Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

At dawn the next morning, the charred remnants of the burned-down barricade lay scattered across the muddy ground. Wisps of white smoke curled up from the smoldering blackened wood, carrying a choking stench of burnt flesh and acrid decay, blending into the thin mist that veiled the outskirts of Yunkai.

Through the mist, faint figures in yellow capes could be seen moving in small groups, rummaging through the debris. Their hushed voices and the rustling of footsteps occasionally broke the silence.

Soon, the first rays of golden sunlight pierced through the fog, bringing warmth and light to the ravaged land and illuminating the gathered Yunkai generals standing at the camp's perimeter.

A trail of scorched earth stretched for ten kilometers. Except for the first kilometer at the front, the land beyond was relatively open and orderly, marked only by neat rows of blackened patches—like the burn scars on a monk's shaved head—remnants of countless campfires.

"Sigh… It's quite clear now. The front and middle camps barely had any tents at all, and those countless burn marks couldn't possibly have been soldiers' cooking fires. Empty fire pits."

"General Grazdan, we've been fooled by a clever little trick."

The Ragged Prince sat tall and straight in his saddle, his voice carrying loudly across the entire battlefield.

He was mounted on a towering, muscular gray warhorse, its hind legs trailing countless strips of cloth—trophies cut from enemy robes after he personally slew them in battle.

"Prince, we need a victory. At this crucial moment, when Meereen has fallen, our soldiers need a victory to restore their confidence," Grazdan murmured in a low voice.

"We all understand the importance of morale, which is why no one exposed your lie," the Ragged Prince said, lowering his voice after scanning their surroundings. "The soldiers in the city are loudly proclaiming your glorious achievement—burning down twenty miles of enemy camps, annihilating ten thousand foes with just five hundred elite Yunkai cavalry, and even claiming that the Mother of Dragons, now with only three thousand Unsullied left, is besieged by the grand Yunkai army."

Cough, cough. Grazdan's face flushed. "Well… we did surround the rear camp," he admitted awkwardly.

"Five hundred cavalry besieging fifteen hundred Unsullied and twenty-five hundred militia?" The Ragged Prince cast a glance at Yunkai's so-called God of War and said flatly, "In reality, you spent last night cutting down, burning, and killing ten thousand straw dummies, forty-seven mercenaries, and three hundred sixty-four Ghiscari guards.

Had you brought more than just five hundred men, our nine hundred captured soldiers, tied up in the front camp, wouldn't have all perished."

"At the very least, we've now gathered intelligence on the enemy's numbers, and we've given the people of Yunkai renewed confidence in victory over that woman," Grazdan insisted stubbornly.

"So, you're saying we must take the rear camp?" Zidane asked.

"Of course." Grazdan nodded firmly. "We don't know when that woman will return with her main force and supplies, so we can't afford to maintain a long siege.

If we leave the rear camp alone, it will not only deal a heavy blow to our morale but also embolden the enemy. Worse still, the soldiers and siege equipment inside the camp will be at her disposal."

The Ragged Prince nodded in agreement. "From a tactical standpoint, Yunkai and the Mother of Dragons are bound to clash head-on eventually. We should seize this chance, while her main force is away, to eliminate part of her elite troops.

I imagine that when the Mother of Dragons returns and sees the heads of fifteen hundred Unsullied mounted along the roadside, she—proud as she is—will be consumed by rage, making her reckless."

Meris and Denzo, standing nearby, visibly paled at these words. They had never expected their commander to resort to such ruthless methods against the Mother of Dragons.

After all, they had signed a contract beforehand—The Windblown mercenary company was allowed to stay in Yunkai, but they were only to make an appearance, not actually engage in battle or spill the blood of the Mother of Dragons' soldiers.

What had changed?

The two of them exchanged puzzled glances.

"Hahaha, exactly! Five thousand freed slaves couldn't shake her resolve, but the heads of four thousand of her warriors surely will! Whether she truly cherishes her soldiers or merely wants to protect the reputation of her 'legendary warrior,' she won't be able to maintain that ice-cold composure. In her anger, she'll make mistakes—and that will be our chance for victory!" Grazdan laughed heartily.

"Brilliant insight, my lord! You have read that woman's mind completely," one of the Ghiscari generals praised.

"Naturally. I am a God of War, after all," Grazdan said, tilting his head to gaze at the rising red sun in the east, striking a forlorn yet heroic figure. "Only heroes understand heroes. Though she and I are enemies, I cannot deny that we are both lonely souls.

When you stand atop the world, how can you not feel isolated?"

"For decades, I have fought in hundreds of battles, never tasting defeat. I have been both lonely and proud.

That's why, after my loss at the White Poplar Slope, my mind was nearly shattered. It took me a long, long time to recover.

That turmoil led me to a series of misjudgments in the following days… until last night's great and sacred victory—"

The Ragged Prince's face remained expressionless: I have a big slap waiting. Do you want it? 

Completely unaware of the constipated expressions around him, Grazdan continued reminiscing, filled with emotion. "I understand her feelings better than anyone. After winning several consecutive victories, she must be both proud and arrogant. But all it takes is one major setback—like falling from the peak into the abyss—and she'll never recover."

"My lord, the enemy is not weak. They have over four thousand troops, including fifteen hundred Unsullied. I fear we won't be able to take them down quickly," Meris interjected.

"Hmph, are you saying our two thousand elite Windblown mercenaries can't handle fifteen hundred Unsullied?" The Ragged Prince shot the interrogator a cold glance before turning to Grazdan. "My lord, how many troops do you intend to deploy?"

"All of them!"

"All of them?" The Grand Wise Master slammed both hands on the table, his voice rising in disbelief. "Grazdan, are you insane? Our goal is to defend Yunkai! If you take all our forces out of the city, what will happen to Yunkai?"

"Grand Wise Master, please hear my analysis."

This time, Grazdan, having already prepared his argument, systematically explained the principles of The Psychology of the Ever-Victorious Warlord to the gathered Wise Masters and Great Masters.

Seeing their expressions shift into contemplation, he concluded, "Perhaps her will is stronger than mine, but she is only fifteen. She has just achieved a miraculous victory over Meereen. If she suddenly sees the severed heads of four thousand of her most loyal warriors, could she not be driven to rage?

And let's not forget the 'mad blood' that runs in the Targaryen family! Once she loses control, we will have our chance to win."

"Are you out of your mind?" Yazan glared at him with his yellow eyes and shouted, "If the city falls, that enraged Dragon Queen might slaughter everyone!"

A collective gasp filled the room as the others hesitated.

The Grand Wise Master suddenly spoke, his tone indifferent. "Do it."

"What?"

"Grazdan, fifteen thousand newly recruited Yunkish militia will remain in the city. They are fresh recruits—adequate for defense but completely useless in open battle.

You may take ten thousand gladiators, ten thousand Yunkish warriors, and thirty-five hundred mercenaries out of the city. The remaining fifteen hundred mercenaries will assist the new militia in holding the city.

I have only one command—kill every last Unsullied!" The Grand Wise Master locked eyes with Yunkai's War God, his voice cold and ruthless, spitting out each word through gritted teeth.

"Mourinho, are you mad?" Yazan exclaimed in disbelief.

"I'm not the one who's mad. You are. All of you are."

The Grand Wise Master pointed a finger at Yazan, then slowly scanned the faces of the Wise Masters and Great Masters. "You all seem to have forgotten something—we have already slaughtered fifty thousand slaves!

If she follows the same approach she took in Astapor, once Yunkai falls, nearly all the men in our families will be executed.

That is already the worst possible outcome. Even if she goes completely mad, what can she do? Kill us twice? Three times?"

"This..." Even Yazan fell silent.

For a long moment, he could only let out a bitter sigh. "I told you not to go this far. Yunkai is not Astapor. You… sigh, it's too late for regrets now.

Grazdan, can you take that camp of four thousand within a day?"

Yunkai's War God waved his hand confidently and declared, "I won't need a day. With overwhelming force, by nightfall, you will receive my messenger."

—Messenger—

By three in the afternoon, the Wise Masters and Great Masters were seated in the hall, lost in silent contemplation. Suddenly, a yellow-cloaked figure sprinted frantically up the steps of the pyramid, braving the scorching sun.

"So soon?!" The slavers leaped to their feet, their faces lighting up with excitement as they turned toward the palace entrance.

The Grand Wise Master stepped forward a few paces and called out from a distance, "Are you Grazdan's messenger?"

"I… I am…" The yellow-cloaked man's face was flushed, sweat streaming down his forehead. He was so out of breath from running that he could barely speak.

"Excellent! I understand!" The Grand Wise Master turned around, raised both hands high, and shouted, "Honor to Yunkai's War God, Grazdan!"

"Grazdan! Grazdan! War God Grazdan!"

Inside the palace, the Wise Masters, Great Masters, Yunkai's commanders, and the yellow-cloaked guards all raised their hands and cheered fervently.

Even Yazan, though reluctant, lifted his right hand and murmured to the concubine beside him, "I may not like the man, but Grazdan deserves this title. Strong in body, fearless in battle, unyielding in spirit, and quick-witted—he is one of the greatest generals Yunkai has seen in nearly a thousand years.

The War God of Yunkai, the towering white jade pillar of our city!"

Incidentally, the name "Grazdan" belonged to a great figure from the ancient Ghiscari Empire.

"War God Grazdan!"

The chant spread, rippling outward. Even the guards stationed around the pyramid joined in.

Everyone had seen Grazdan lead tens of thousands out of the city. They all knew what he had set out to do.

Now, hearing the triumphant cries echoing from the Grand Pyramid, the citizens understood—Yunkai's War God had once again triumphed over the wicked Mother of Dragons.

And so, "War God Grazdan!" resounded through the entire city.

Yunkai was swept up in celebration. Young men in flowing tokar robes danced in the streets with unfamiliar women, laughing in pure joy.

But amidst the revelry…

"Uwaaaah…"

The messenger suddenly burst into tears.

The Grand Wise Master was momentarily stunned. Then, realization dawned.

Though Grazdan had won the battle, their enemy still had fifteen hundred Unsullied. Surely, this young man had lost family in the fight.

"Don't cry," the Grand Wise Master consoled him. "To die for Yunkai is the greatest honor for the sons of the Harpy."

But the yellow-cloaked man only sobbed harder.

The Grand Wise Master chuckled and turned to a fellow Wise Master. "Look at this boy. He lacks experience. He should follow our iron-blooded War God and learn from him."

Then, the messenger wailed in despair:

"Grand Wise Master! The Dragon Queen is here! We're doomed! Grazdan's army… they… they're about to be completely annihilated!"

(End of Chapter)

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