Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

Queen Dany once explained to her people that the True Dragon script for "Cining Palace" meant "Palace of Compassion and Tranquility."

As the "Mhysa" of hundreds of thousands of former slaves, their benevolent Queen provided them with homes, land, and even wives—her kindness knew no bounds.

Clearly, under Queen Dany's rule, all her people lived happily and peacefully… or so it seemed.

Thus, the beautifully symbolic name "Cining Palace" was quickly accepted by the people of Yunkai. In their leisure time, citizens were more than happy to gather in the grand plaza before the pyramid for entertainment.

No, they didn't dance in public squares.

Jugglers claimed their own space to perform, shirtless wrestlers grappled under the cheers of hundreds of spectators, and merchants loudly peddled their wares.

Two months passed, and Yunkai not only regained its former vibrancy—it became even more lively. A mysterious force seemed to have transformed the spirit of its citizens.

Dunzo noticed this change.

"Who are Borlao and Hill?" Redbeard asked curiously.

Bill smirked proudly and began to explain, "Borlao—"

"Borlao, you are a slave! Do you even know what a slave is?"

Before the Minister of Culture could finish his explanation, a loud shout from nearby cut him off.

Redbeard Edward and the old mercenary Dunzo turned their heads in surprise and saw a wooden stage set up at the base of the pyramid, nearly level with the first stone step—practically attached to it.

The stage had a blue curtain as a backdrop and was adorned with common stage props. A few actors in exaggerated costumes stood upon it—some dressed as Tokar-robed slave masters, others wearing bronze collars to signify slaves.

The stage was surrounded on three sides by a dense crowd of spectators, numbering over a thousand.

The three men stepped closer, and the actors' voices grew clearer.

The stage was about three meters high, and in the golden-red glow of the setting sun, Dunzo and his companions could clearly see the expressions on the performers' faces.

A fat "slave master," dressed in a gold-fringed Tokar robe, his black-red hair standing upright, pointed a whip at an elderly man kneeling before him and shouted, "Let me tell you what it means to be a slave!"

The slave master was grotesquely obese, his makeup exaggerated to the extreme—red lips, white teeth, and a face twisted into a cruel sneer, the very image of a villain. The old slave, in contrast, was emaciated like a piece of frayed rope, his face etched with suffering, evoking immediate sympathy from the audience.

As the slave master lashed the old man with a Harpy's Whip, he bellowed, "Your life is not your own! The money you earn is not yours! Even your daughter is not yours! As your master, I, the great Good Master, own everything about you—everything! Do you understand?"

"But Hill is only eleven! She's still a child! Please, merciful Good Master, spare her!" The old slave, wearing his bronze collar, clutched his head and wailed.

"Oh? You want my mercy?" The fat slave master grinned wickedly and gestured to the "Yellow Cape" guards standing beside him. "Tomorrow, I will take Hill to the fighting pits. Old Borlao can rest well tonight—my mercy isn't so easy to come by."

Dunzo was captivated by the actors' performance and did not immediately enter the pyramid. Instead, he stood still, watching intently.

The scene soon shifted to the fighting pits. It turned out that the Good Master's mercy was, in fact, a one-eyed direwolf.

Yes, its name was literally The Good Master's Mercy.

In the arena, before Hill's anguished cries, the beast bit off one of Old Borlao's arms. As the direwolf gnawed on the severed limb, the Good Master laughed and claimed Hill for himself.

However, he did not make her his concubine. In fact, within just two days, the now-maimed Borlao and the defiled Hill were completely forgotten by him.

Scene after scene unfolded. Perhaps fortune finally smiled upon Hill, as she gradually grew up and recovered from her childhood trauma. She met a handsome young slave named Mota.

Mota and Hill became acquainted, then grew close, and eventually fell in love. For the next ten years, their relationship remained sweet and tender, with even the background music turning cheerful and romantic.

Edward, having been subjected to an overwhelming dose of sentimentality, sighed with relief, "Mota is a clever young man. The gods be praised, at least Hill has found a happy ending."

Redbeard had been clenching his fists and grinding his teeth throughout the performance, his muscles tensed with fury. If the stage had been just a little lower, he would have charged up and smashed the wicked Good Master's face.

"This part of the story was added at Her Majesty's request," Bill said, his expression complex as he gazed toward the stage. "I didn't understand her reasoning before, but now…"

"Just keep watching," the Minister of Culture sighed.

Ten years later, the young girl Hill had grown into a woman. Witnessed by Borlao, she married her childhood sweetheart, Mota.

The following year, they had an adorable baby.

But their journey was not without hardship. Over the years, both Hill and Borlao faced numerous life-and-death situations. Many times, Hill's beauty drew the wrong kind of attention.

Luckily, Mota was exceptionally clever and always managed to defuse the dangers with ingenuity.

In fact, on stage, Mota seemed to be the smartest person Redbeard had ever seen in his life. That was why he felt so happy for Hill.

Unfortunately, when their child turned five, the Good Master took him away and had him castrated to become an Unsullied.

No matter how cunning Mota was, he could not save his son—for the Good Master's primary business was breeding Unsullied warriors.

Redbeard clenched his fists again, his teeth grinding harder, his rage even greater than before—he was utterly furious.

And this… was only the beginning.

In the 16th year, Old Burlow was hanged in the Punishment Square by the Benevolent Lord for secretly visiting his grandson.

In the 17th year, Mota and Hill had a daughter. However, before Hill could even finish her postpartum confinement, an Unsullied warrior approached her, tossed a silver coin at her feet, and beheaded the infant right in front of her.

Mota and Hill wailed in agony as they were pinned to the ground by soldiers in yellow cloaks, forced to watch as the Benevolent Lord gleefully pocketed the coin.

Behind the stage curtain, musicians played a somber, mournful tune, reminding the audience once more of the Benevolent Lord's infamous words:

"A slave's life belongs to the master. A slave's possessions belong to the master. A slave's children belong to the master. Everything a slave has belongs to the master."

Mota, sharp and capable; Hill, diligent and kind; Old Burlow, honest and enduring—after more than a decade of careful, cautious living, their fragile peace crumbled in an instant, more brittle than a sandcastle on the shore. A mere whim from their master was enough to shatter it all.

Slaves could not control their own fate.

Slaves must control their own fate!

"Let go of me! I'll kill that bastard!"

Redbeard felt as if he had become Old Burlow, and Hill was his own daughter. His rage consumed all reason. He struggled, roared, and tried to charge onto the stage to kill the Benevolent Lord.

He had even drawn the dagger from his belt.

"Edward, calm down! It's just a play!" Danzel grabbed his companion and shouted.

Edward panted heavily, his bloodshot eyes gradually regaining clarity. He shook off the old mercenary's grip and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Slave masters deserve to die."

But the play wasn't over yet—Hill's tragic fate had not reached its end.

Three years passed. Hill gave birth to two more children.

Having learned from past experiences, Mota no longer wished for family reunions. As long as the children could survive, he would accept any fate.

Thus, their second daughter was sold to Yunkai, where she would be trained as a bed slave. Their second son—without Hill's knowledge—was offered up to the Benevolent Lord by Mota himself.

When Hill discovered that her son would become an Unsullied, she went mad. In her frenzy, she stabbed Mota to death with a pair of scissors.

And then—Hill truly lost her mind.

Even when her eldest son failed the puppy-killing trial and was butchered to feed the dogs, she merely sat there, giggling blankly, without a single tear or protest.

"I'll kill that bastard! Don't try to stop me—"

Uh… Redbeard Edward had lost it too.

Not only was Edward shouting like a madman, but even the old poet—renowned for his wisdom and rationality—had turned red with fury, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

The audience erupted in a frenzy, the situation nearly spiraling out of control.

Fortunately, the Dragon Queen arrived.

A silver-haired, violet-eyed woman rode onto the stage atop a great black dragon.

When the final judgment came, the Benevolent Lord was engulfed in dragonfire, burned to death in an instant. Redbeard felt as if a valve had opened inside his chest, letting out all his pent-up rage and hatred in one cathartic release.

What a relief!

"Justice is served! Long live the Dragon Queen!" Edward shouted.

"Burn the slave masters! Long live the Dragon Queen!" The crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, as if they had all tasted the divine fruit of immortality, their bodies and souls utterly refreshed.

Even after the Benevolent Lord's death, the play was not yet over.

In the final scene, the Dragon Queen held the hand of a young Unsullied and asked, "Why are you here instead of taking care of your mother?"

The boy answered, "I want to join the Northern Liberation Army. I want to help Her Majesty take Yunkai. I want to go there and bring my sister home."

The actors took their final bows. The play had ended.

"Wait… That's Hill's son?!" Edward exclaimed in surprise.

"So this is 'Bug'? Not a bad story," Danzel said, glancing at the middle-aged man beside him.

"Yes. That's Bug." Bill's expression was complex as he nodded. "You think this is just a story? Heh… If you ever get the chance, go to Astapor and see the real Hill. Not just one, but countless Hills."

Redbeard Edward and Danzel fell silent.

The sun had fully sunk below the horizon, and the sky darkened. But on the high stage, the performance had not ended. One by one, tallow torches were lit, their flames illuminating the figures on the stage.

Soon, another play began.

Danzel watched for a while and realized it was similar to Burlow, Hill, and Bug—another tale of the suffering endured under slavery.

"The stage is built so high… I guess it's to stop people like Edward from rushing up and killing someone?" He smirked at Redbeard.

"Heh, you're not wrong. The first time a play like this was performed in the streets, the actor playing the Benevolent Lord had his leg broken," the deep-eyed middle-aged man chuckled.

"They don't charge for these performances?" Edward asked, fiddling with a handful of copper coins but seeing no sign of any theater members collecting payment.

"The audience here is mostly newly freed people—they don't have much to spare. The Queen subsidizes the troupes based on the number of performances."

Danzel's eyes flickered as he probed, "The Queen must be spending a fortune then. I bet there are a lot of troupes like this all over Slaver's Bay."

"Not a lot," Bill looked him in the eye and said flatly. "There are countless troupes. So many that among the 1.3 million people of Slaver's Bay, nearly everyone knows the stories of Twenty Years a Slave."

(End of Chapter)

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