Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"As for Westeros," Jorah said with a bleak expression and a sigh of resignation, "I don't know if you should give up on that dangerous Iron Throne. But what I do know is that the longer you stay in one place, the easier it will be for your enemies to find you. The Targaryen name instills fear in traitors, especially now that they know you have dragons."

"Ser, thank you for being so thorough in your considerations for me," Dany replied sincerely, locking her gaze on his. She then asked, "Westeros is nothing but a dream to me, but what does it mean to you? Without me as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, can a Queen's Guard be trusted to remain loyal?"

Dany had never truly set her heart on seizing the Iron Throne. All her supposed ambitions for Westeros were merely a facade—a calculated deception.

She deceived Xaro, misled the people of Qarth, and tricked the Qharthiks. Even Jorah Mormont was one of her unwitting pawns.

Westeros meant nothing to Dany, but to the exiled bear, it was an irreplaceable homeland.

Jorah Mormont could not deny it—part of his loyalty to Dany stemmed from her strong likelihood of restoring the Targaryen dynasty.

If Dany became queen, as her Queensguard, he could redeem himself of all his past sins, return to his homeland in glory, and bask in honor.

"Daenerys, you can completely trust the loyalty of someone who admires you," he said, addressing her directly by name.

"That's exactly the problem," Dany sighed. "If I can never return your admiration, and I can't bring you home with honor, then what is the point of your loyalty to me?"

"Your Grace, must you be so cruel?" Jorah asked with a bitter smile.

Keeping you as a backup option would be the real cruelty, Dany thought to herself.

"You are like a reliable brother and a trusted friend," she said. "I don't want to lie to you, so please don't lie to me either."

Jorah's face flushed red with emotion at first, but as he listened to her words, it suddenly turned pale. "I haven't lied to you, and I never will," he blurted out.

You are lying to me even now.

Today presented such a perfect opportunity for honesty. If you'd just confessed to being a spy for King's Landing, I would have forgiven you in turn. It would have ended this torturous deception for you. But why couldn't you grasp the moment?

Dany could entrust her safety to this Queensguard, but complete trust? That, she couldn't offer—not yet.

"Ser, tomorrow, take Aggo to the blacksmiths' guild to order some leather armor," Dany instructed. She had initially planned to say "iron armor," but after considering the Dothraki's culture, she changed her mind.

Firstly, traditional views among the Dothraki hadn't shifted. They scorned iron armor, believing that hiding behind metal in battle was a cowardly act.

Secondly, the Dothraki lacked the training and discipline of heavy cavalry. Simply put, they hadn't yet unlocked the "heavy cavalry" skill.

Thirdly, Dany recalled the copper armor used by camel riders and the fact that even Qarth's city guards didn't use iron armor. This made her skeptical of the Qarthik's ironworking techniques.

She explained her reasoning to Jorah. "Given your knightly expertise, select a lightweight leather armor capable of deflecting arrows. Perhaps add a heart guard to the chest and back."

Jorah hesitated for a moment before saying, "Your Grace, you've never been in battle, so you might not understand—there's no leather armor that can meet your requirements."

Dany was displeased by his implication that she was a novice. True, she hadn't fought in battles, but she had watched enough war dramas and read enough historical novels to know that cast-iron pots could stop bullets, and that hardened leather and padded armor could resist arrows.

"My demands are quite modest," she said, her face hardening. "I'm only asking for something that can block arrows in a volley."

"A large-scale volley?" Jorah shook his head, his expression turning graver. "Arrows with steel tips can pierce iron armor, let alone leather."

"That must be a rare occurrence," Dany replied skeptically.

"Let's put it this way," Jorah said with a sigh. "Beyond double-stringed composite bows, the gilded bows from the Summer Isles are the most renowned. A skilled Red Archer wielding a heartwood bow can pierce thin leather armor from 400 meters away. But I understand your intention—you want the Dothraki to charge through volleys of arrows. At that range, no armor can withstand it."

Dany's face turned stiff. "Are you certain about the 400 meters? Not just one person, but an entire group of archers?"

Jorah nodded. "If you don't believe me, you can visit the docks. There are many Summer Isles merchant ships moored there, and each ship has at least one elite archer.

"By the way, that captain of the Windblown Laurel, Khohoru, hails from the Summer Isles. Unfortunately, he's likely been gone for days.

"The seas are rife with pirates, and even if you win a boarding battle, the losses in goods can be considerable. That's why powerful archers are a necessity."

"I see," Dany sighed dejectedly, waving her hand. "Go ahead and get leather armor, then. Add iron plates to the chest—it's better to have some protection than none at all."

The Next Morning

At dawn, Jorah and Aggo headed to the Blacksmiths' Guild.

The guild was an alliance of weapons merchants and numerous blacksmiths. They produced everything from swords, spears, and daggers to kitchen knives, hoes, and sickles. They also crafted leather armor, saddles, and horseshoes.

With only around a hundred warriors in Dany's khalasar, her order was a small one for the guild. It would take just a few days to complete.

During the process, a minor disagreement arose—Jorah and Aggo argued about helmets.

Jorah, understanding Dany's intent to protect her warriors, picked out a "full" iron helmet with features like a faceguard, throat plates, and a protective neck skirt.

However, the Dothraki, with their long, thick braids, found such helmets cumbersome and uncomfortable. Aggo, in particular, was not pleased.

The two quarreled in the blacksmith's shop, and the matter eventually reached Dany. After some thought, she instructed the blacksmith to make a modification—a hole at the back of the helmet to accommodate the braids.

"That's hideous! And adding a hole creates a weak spot," Jorah muttered.

"Well, the leather armor is full of weak points already, so one more won't make much difference," Dany sighed.

In addition to leather armor, Dany ordered a large supply of crossbows—both hand-cranked, single-handed crossbows and heavier two-handed ones that required foot-bracing to load.

Though the Dothraki were skilled archers and most owned bows, crossbows were rare among them. Apart from Drogo, who owned a blackwood and gold-inlaid hand crossbow as part of his collection, none of the Dothraki warriors had one.

Dany equipped each warrior with two crossbows, which they could hang on either side of their saddles. Women, children, and elders were each given one as well, doubling, if not tripling, the khalasar's overall firepower.

Besides weapons, Dany also ordered a batch of camels.

This move immediately caught Xaro's attention. Buying weapons could be explained as bolstering her defenses, but purchasing camels? That suggested plans to leave.

"Oh, Light of the Stars, have I not treated you well enough? Why do you plan to leave so soon?" Xaro lamented, wiping away tears in a show of sorrow.

"You have been a generous host," Dany replied.

Hearing this, her eyes reddened, and with no other choice, she added, "But I must return to Westeros. My people await me. The usurper is dead, and this is my best chance. Yet, here, I have no support."

"Oh, such sadness!" Xaro cried. After weeping for a moment, he asked casually, "My Star of Paradise, do you plan to ride camels back to Vaes Dothrak via the White Cloud City?"

"Perhaps," Dany replied. "If you were to gift me two great ships, I'd sail instead. But if there are no ships, I'll have no choice but to ride camels."

Xaro pondered for a while, dabbing his tear-streaked face with a perfumed silk handkerchief. "My Star of Paradise, there's no need to rush. Perhaps circumstances will change."

"What change?" Dany asked, intrigued. "The royal family has already refused me. The Thirteen, with you as their representative, have consistently disappointed me. Are you suggesting the Tourmaline Brotherhood or the Spicer's Guild will suddenly change their minds?"

"No, no, no," Xaro replied, shaking his head emphatically, his face filled with disdain. "Flattery and lies are all they can offer. The Spicer's Guild is a den of hypocrites and braggarts, while the Brotherhood might as well be called 'pirates.'"

"Who Else in Qarth Could Help Me?"

"Other than these factions, who else in Qarth could possibly help me?"

"Do you remember the mummified warlock I bought from you?" Xaro replied with a question of his own.

Dany's delicate face twisted slightly. She had been quietly observing Xaro's mysterious sorcery birds and had shared her concerns with Jorah and her Bloodriders, urging them to investigate Xaro's dealings.

Jorah, as always, didn't disappoint. He quickly uncovered details about Xaro's situation through the servants in his residence.

"The one assisting Xaro with his sorcery is a warlock known in Qarth as the 'Nightwalker,' Qarroth," Jorah had told her.

"After the ritual, servants reported hearing the cries of a young boy and Xaro's angry shouting coming from his chambers. I suspect the magic worked to some extent, but it likely fell far short of his expectations.

In truth, whether or not the sorcery improved his condition hardly matters. Most of the time, he doesn't actually need it."

Jorah's expression turned contemptuous as he continued, "As for all those declarations of love Xaro showers you with—they're nothing but lies. He doesn't even like women.

I've noticed that his palace is filled with boys of various races, dressed in fine silks, from Dothraki to Summer Islanders. They're painted, powdered, and clad in barely-there garments. It's obscene. By the faith of the Seven, Xaro is destined for the seventh hell."

Dany snapped out of her recollection and studied Xaro carefully. The short, plump merchant's pale, greasy face resembled a freshly baked loaf of bread. His nose was adorned with jade, gold, and gemstones, and paired with his colorful silk robes, he looked like a bald, overfed bird of paradise.

Appearances, however, could be deceiving.

"Are warlocks truly so powerful?" she asked.

Xaro didn't seem to notice her strange expression. In Qarth, his behavior wasn't considered unusual; it was no more surprising than modern men wearing women's clothing in certain places. People had grown accustomed to it and hardly batted an eye.

"They are effective, but only when used with their potions," Xaro replied nonchalantly.

Dany felt her teeth clench slightly. Was the efficacy due to the potions or the magic itself?

"So?" she pressed.

"The warlocks are regaining their strength. It's possible they could soon return to their former prominence," Xaro said gravely.

Dany understood what he was implying. As time passed and their power grew, the warlocks would naturally become one of the major forces in Qarth. If they were willing to help her, then...

"Perhaps the warlocks are deceiving you. Even if they aren't, why would they help me?" Dany asked.

"It's worth trying. Things can't get much worse, can they?" Xaro suggested. "The House of Dust, where the warlocks dwell, is dangerous. I would advise against dealing with Pyat Pree, the leader.

However, I know a more worldly warlock—Qarroth the Nightwalker. He has a weakness for gold, and anyone who loves gold can be trusted... because I have gold!"

(End of Chapter)

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