The Mountain of Ice and Fire

“Black dragon Drogon, named after Drogo; bronze-green dragon Rhaegal, named after Daenerys's eldest brother Rhaegar Targaryen; white dragon Viserion, named after Daenerys's second brother Viserys. You know Viserys, you've even met him. Drogo gave him a crown of molten gold. He was the beggar king three years ago,” Rakharo said.

“Beggar King—of course, I know the illustrious Beggar King,” Motley said. “Rakharo, I want you to swear in the name of the sacred city of Vaes Dothrak and the dosh khaleen that the three dragons you spoke of are real.”

“I, Rakharo, swear in the name of the sacred city of Vaes Dothrak and the dosh khaleen that the three dragons I spoke of to Motley are real. Her Majesty will lead us to unite the Dothraki Sea. She is the Stormborn princess of Dragonstone, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Her Majesty's dragons are invincible and ever victorious.”

Motley and his generals were deeply moved.

“Rakharo, we didn't see any dragons when we were on the hill.”

“Her Majesty's black dragon Drogon burned the Dornish Prince Quentyn Martell. Her Majesty blew the dragon horn to punish the black dragon. The black dragon and his two brothers, fearing the Queen's punishment, flew far away and escaped. But they will return. The three dragons are Her Majesty's three children, and I am certain they will return to find their mother.”

Motley looked at his bloodriders. The three bloodriders were of one mind with him. Poggio would not kill Daenerys. According to the traditions and ancient teachings of the grasslands, Poggio could only take Daenerys to the sacred city and hand her over to the dosh khaleen. As long as Daenerys did not die, and the dragons returned to seek their master, Daenerys would be the most powerful Khaleesi on the grasslands.

The Dothraki only follow the strong!

“Rakharo, we are willing to follow Her Majesty,” Motley said. “But to swear allegiance, we must first see Daenerys's dragons. Real dragons.”

It is difficult for the Dothraki to maintain consistent loyalty to the weak. Even if they swear an oath, they will break it. The kao their soldiers follow must be the strongest kao. Once their kao becomes weak and no longer strong and mighty, most of the soldiers will abandon him, except for the bloodriders.

“Motley, Her Majesty's dragons will return.”

“Rakharo, I will let you go now. We will go east first, gathering men along the way, and then we will go to the sacred city in a month. If Daenerys's dragons return, you can send someone to find us. Or, we will meet in the sacred city.”

Before seeing the dragons, Motley decided to strengthen himself first.

“Good, it's a deal.” Rakharo held out his hand to Motley.

*

Night.

The grasslands are not quiet.

The howls of distant wolves, the faint roars of night lions further away, the sounds of grassland eagles in the night sky, and the chirping of many unknown insects in the grass are all ringing out.

Below Dragonstone Hill, the Dothraki tents were connected, and the lights illuminated half the sky. A force of more than ten thousand cavalry would be followed by no less than thirty thousand people. Dothraki children and women were the manpower for cleaning up the battlefield after military operations, and they were also skilled arrow makers.

Outside the outermost marching tent, a soldier came out to relieve himself, drunk. Suddenly, he felt a chill on his neck, and a dagger was placed against his throat. A voice, low but full of ferocity, said, "Don't make a sound, I won't kill you."

The soldier's alcohol instantly turned into cold sweat, and he sobered up.

“Where is Daenerys?”

“Aggo?!”

“It is I. Is Daenerys here?”

“Poggio took three thousand men to chase her.”

“Direction?”

“South!”

“Swear in the name of the sacred city of Vaes Dothrak that you are not lying to me.”

“I swear in the name of Vaes Dothrak, what I said is true.”

“Good, don't make a sound, don't move, I won't kill you.”

“Thank you, General.”

Aggo tied the soldier's hands and feet, then took off the soldier's shorts and stuffed them into his mouth. Under the cover of night, he sneaked into the grass and quickly left.

*

When the sun rose again, a black dot appeared on the southern horizon. The black dot slowly increased, grew larger, moved, and slowly stretched into a long black line. It was a cavalry force on the march.

In the formation, the soldiers in the front held up arakhs, with human heads stuck on the blades. Some of the heads had wide, angry eyes, some had ferocious faces, some were stained with blood, and some had their eyes closed... more than a hundred heads, more than a hundred grassland warriors...

Behind the heads, three horses carried three prisoners with their hands tied. Leading the way was Daenerys Targaryen, followed by Daario, whose face had several scratches, and then Victarion, who had knife wounds on his shoulders, arms, and chest. The three men's lips were grayish-white, chapped, and their faces haggard.

Beside the prisoners, Poggio rode in silence. His hair was very long, and small golden and silver bells were tied to his hair. As he moved, the bells collided with each other, ringing incessantly.

Each bell represented a life, a badge of honor.

The former Drogo had very long hair, and his hair was tied with bells of various colors. On the grasslands, whenever a leader was defeated, he would cut off his hair to show his shame. The longer the leader's hair, the more outstanding his record. Drogo, who had never been defeated, had very long hair, which he had to wrap around his waist when fighting.

Long hair and bells were a symbol of awe and loyalty for the grassland people, and also a symbol of an invincible warrior.

Poggio also wore a horn around his neck, with ancient writing and flame patterns on it. It was the dragon horn that Victarion had given to the Mother of Dragons, Daenerys. Daenerys blew the dragon horn in a moment of crisis, but the dragons did not appear.

Perhaps the dragons had heard her plea, but were too far away to return immediately; perhaps the dragons had not heard their mother's plea at all.

The sky was blue, and the clouds were inlaid with a circle of gold by the sunlight. The grasslands in the morning, whether the sky or the earth, were beautiful and breathtaking.

“Hey!” Victarion laughed. “Poggio, untie my hands, and I'll teach you how to blow this horn.”

Poggio was expressionless. He suddenly raised his hand and knocked Victarion off his horse. Victarion fell to the grass, his lips were split open, his teeth were broken, and blood spurted out.

“Fool!” Victarion laughed. He spoke in the Common Tongue, which Poggio understood. “The dragon horn you obtained is a treasure for controlling dragons. Whoever possesses it can control those three terrifying dragons. Poggio, don't you want to become a dragon rider?”

“Victarion!” Daenerys shouted.

“Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I don't want to die,” Victarion laughed, his mouth full of blood. "Poggio, I am willing to swear allegiance to you and tell you how to use the dragon horn to control dragons."

Poggio stared at Victarion, still silent.

“You don't trust me, it doesn't matter. I also have a dragon horn in my arms. You can take it out and you'll know. The dragon horn was my gift to Her Majesty. I exchanged a dragon for my horn. If it weren't for my horn, Her Majesty would not have rewarded me with the dragon horn. I am Victarion, a Westerosi who has newly joined the Queen's army.” Victarion struggled and rambled on, not caring about the blood in his mouth.

“Where are your dragons?” a bloodrider beside Poggio said coldly.

“Released to hunt. Dragons have an amazing appetite, with lions and wolves as snacks. Brother, give me a sip of water, and you will have good luck.” Victarion looked at the waterskin around the bloodrider's waist, his eyes full of thirst.

“You want a drink?” Poggio suddenly spoke.

“Yes, a sip of water for a dragon-riding command. I'll give you one for free first: Dragonfire!”

Dragonfire, the pronunciation syllables of High Valyrian, ancient and unique, with a single tone.

“Dragonfire!” Poggio mechanically repeated.

“Yes, Dragonfire.” A smile appeared on Victarion's face, as if a teacher was looking at his worst-performing, stupidest student.

Clang!

Poggio's arakh was drawn, the blade emitting a faint cold light under the sunlight.

Poggio killed people, always at will. Maybe it was a look, maybe it was an irrelevant bird chirping, maybe a word, and he would draw his sword to kill the prisoner.

Victarion praised, “Good knife!” He looked at Daenerys, “Your Majesty, this fool doesn't want to be fooled, he doesn't want to ride a dragon, and he has no intention of blowing the dragon horn at all...” Victarion's eyes were full of apology... “Your Majesty, Daario, you fool, I'm going to take a step ahead. Remember, Dragonfire.”

“Dragonfire!” Daenerys bit her lip, and blood flowed into her mouth, with a hot, faint salty taste.

Dragonfire, this is a signal for the Queen to take revenge!

The blade flashed, Poggio's scimitar fell, and struck Victarion's chest. Then, with another blow, he cut off Victarion's head. A bloodrider drew his scimitar, stabbed it into Victarion's head, and then raised it high.

The cavalrymen burst into roars of cheers!

Daario shook his head. “Daenerys, Victarion is not suitable for the grasslands. He couldn't hold on anymore.”

“Don't talk, don't provoke, I don't want to lose you, Daario,” Daenerys said softly in the Astapori dialect of Slaver's Bay.

“Your Majesty, my soul and body, my heart and faith, are all yours. But I don't want to be killed casually like this. I want to challenge Poggio to earn my freedom, and then lead troops to the sacred city to save you.”

“Don't!” Tears welled up in Daenerys's eyes. Her khalasar had all died in battle, and she only had Daario by her side.

“If Poggio still has honor, he will let me go. I can defeat him,” Daario said proudly.

“Are you sure?”

“More sure than taming a dragon.”

“Okay, let me speak.”

“I listen to you, my Queen.” Daario bowed gracefully, still dashing despite his haggard appearance.

Daenerys's gaze was as cold and sharp as a knife.

“Poggio, I see that your swordsmanship is very clumsy, and you are no match for my General Daario. If you are afraid of death and dare not accept the challenge, then cut off your long hair, or kill me. Because if you don't kill me, when I get to the sacred city, I will, as a dosh khaleen, proclaim to everyone I meet that you are a coward who dares not accept the challenge of a wounded warrior. You will be ridiculed by the warriors on the grasslands forever.”

Daenerys said loudly in the Dothraki language, which hundreds of cavalrymen around her could hear clearly.

Her throat was dry, and she moistened her throat with the blood from her lips. Her voice showed strength that was completely disproportionate to her haggard expression.

Poggio didn't mind killing Daenerys, but this would arouse resentment from the generals around him, and perhaps a general would abandon him with his troops at night.

The wife of a dead kao must be brought back to the sacred city and handed over to the dosh khaleen.

Since he couldn't kill Daenerys, he would kill the last follower by her side.

Poggio loved to kill people, and he also loved duels. He had established his prestige and status through battles, and finally became a kao supported by the soldiers.

Dare not accept the challenge?

Poggio knew that Daenerys was provoking him, but he didn't care at all.

He loved fighting! Even more, he loved killing.

Daario had four arrow wounds and three knife wounds, had not eaten for two days, and had only drunk water once a day ago. He only needed to reach out a hand and gently knock him down.

Poggio looked at a bloodrider beside him. The bloodrider drew his arakh with a clang, and with a flash of the blade, cut the rope tying Daario's hands. With a flick of his wrist, the arakh flew towards Daario's face. Daario quickly reached out to catch it. The arakh almost slipped out of his hand, causing the surrounding soldiers to laugh.

Daario also smiled. His arms were sore and numb, and he needed to move them to allow the blood to circulate. He gently moved his wrists and arms, and found that the knife was of moderate weight and the handle was comfortable.

Poggio untied the waterskin from his waist and threw it to Daario. Daario reached out to catch it, unscrewed the lid, and then brought the waterskin to Daenerys's mouth. “My Queen, have some water.”

Daenerys's beautiful eyes moved across Daario's face. She was moved, and her gaze was rare and gentle for a moment. This moment was captured by Daario at close range. In the eyes of others, Daenerys had always been as tough as steel and as cold as ice. She gulped down most of the water. The delicious water mixed with the blood from her lips flowed down the corners of her mouth, wetting her clothes.

The scimitar in Daario's hand shook slightly, cutting the rope on Daenerys's wrist. “Poggio, if I win, I will not kill you, nor will I ask you to cut off your long hair. My bet is that my Queen will no longer be bound. If you still have honor, give me freedom. If you are not willing to give me freedom, I will accept it, but be sure not to bind my Queen again.”

“Daario, win or lose, Daenerys will no longer be bound by ropes,” Poggio said indifferently. His emotions were unwavering, as if he was stating a trivial fact.

Only then did Daario begin to drink water. He drank very slowly, completely different from Daenerys's way of drinking.

He was very weak and needed time to recover his strength. In fact, he had no certainty at all, but Poggio killed people entirely at will. Maybe in the next moment, he would find Daario unpleasant and kill him.

Rather than constantly teetering on the brink of death, living worse than a dog, it's better to fight. At the very least, he has won Her Majesty the freedom to no longer be bound!