NOVEL NEXT Chapter 64: Chapter 64: Visitors from "Home"
The captain's cabin on Grolay's ship was more spacious than Dany had imagined—an impressive 30 square meters. She instructed the sailors to move out the furniture, including the table, chairs, soft couches, and miscellaneous boxes, leaving only a double bed and a wide open area.
"My dragons will live with me," she told Blackbeard.
"But this place is too small! It can't possibly hold three huge iron cages!" Blackbeard of Pentos replied, puzzled.
"You even prepared cages? They won't be necessary," Dany said, glancing around the cabin. "After we leave Qarth, I'll remove the chains from their necks."
"But what if there's a fire?" Blackbeard's face twisted in distress. Hesitant, he added, "The Hall of Dust had stone walls, and even that was reduced to ash by your dragons. A wooden ship with cloth sails would burn much more easily."
Dany frowned, stepping around a dried puddle of vomit, and asked casually, "Have you heard of the Portrait of Dragon Reverence?"
"The what?" Blackbeard looked confused.
Behind him, Whitebeard's expression shifted, and he exclaimed, "There's a rumor at the docks that Princess Daenerys's black dragon painted a picture for a merchant from the Summer Isles. The painting allegedly depicted the scene of the merchant bowing before you and your dragons in vivid detail. The merchant called it the Portrait of Dragon Reverence, but I thought he was drunk and bragging."
"Oh, I've heard that one too," Blackbeard said, his initial surprise giving way to skepticism. "I've even heard people say the black dragon sings songs and recites poetry for visitors. It's all nonsense—anyone who believes that is a fool."
"Dragons' throats cannot produce human speech," Dany said, shaking her head. "While it's true my dragons can recite poetry, no one but me can understand them. So that rumor is false."
Hearing this, Blackbeard and Whitebeard were stunned. Was she indirectly confirming the Portrait of Dragon Reverence story?
"It's true," Jorah chimed in, his chin slightly raised with a proud expression. "Many people witnessed it back then, and I've personally seen the black dragon paint more than once."
"In summary," Dany concluded, "I can have my dragons paint, and I can control their behavior. At the very least, they won't burn your ship."
"Alright then," Blackbeard relented.
Dany spent over an hour inspecting the ship from the deck to the cargo hold. The conditions were filthy—rats and cockroaches roamed freely, discarded moldy clothing was strewn about, and the floorboards were caked with grime.
Back at the bridge, she remarked, "The crew's quarters are too dirty. They must be cleaned regularly, or diseases will spread."
"We'll do a thorough cleaning before leaving the port," Blackbeard assured her.
"Also, buy a batch of rye to store in the cargo hold. I have 80 horses to feed," she added.
"That seems unnecessary," Blackbeard replied, counting on his fingers to make his case. "A fine horse is worth, at most, two gold dragons. But the space they and their feed take up could be used to store spices or gemstones, which could yield at least 30 gold dragons in profit.
"Besides, the sea journey is long, and animals are prone to dying. Why not sell them all in Qarth? You can easily buy as many fine horses as you want in Pentos."
If they were indeed heading to Pentos, his argument was entirely valid. Setting aside profit margins, surviving a journey of thousands of miles would be a miracle if even 40 of the 80 horses made it alive.
"My horses are special," Dany explained simply. "They are impervious to dragon fear, and their stamina and strength are twice that of ordinary steeds."
Whitebeard gasped. "Do you feed them dragon dung?"
Dany looked at him in surprise. "You know about that?"
The old man nodded, his expression complicated. "It's said that when dragons still existed, the Targaryens built a horse ranch on the plains south of the Blackwater River, specifically to raise dragon-fed horses.
"Dragon-fed horses were said to be fierce. There are even legends of them killing shadow mountain cats. Only the strongest and most skilled riders could tame them. Every generation of the Kingsguard had their own dragon-fed steeds."
"That's just boasting!" Jorah scoffed. "You Southerners probably haven't encountered shadow mountain cats often. They're forest rulers—boasting the claws of a leopard, the agility of a cat, the ferocity of a tiger, and the strength of a bear. They're bigger than horses."
"Legends often have some basis in fact," Whitebeard said mildly.
"Heh," Jorah chuckled, saying no more.
Dany glanced at the two of them, then turned to Blackbeard Grolay. "Do you have fruit onboard? For the sailors to eat?"
"We have lemons and oranges. Sailors would be cursed by demons if they didn't eat fruit at sea," Blackbeard replied matter-of-factly.
It seemed that while this world was primitive in many ways, thousands of years of seafaring had given its people a solid foundation of survival wisdom.
By midday, news of the Mother of Dragons' arrival had spread. Merchants and captains from nearby ships gathered around the Saidurion, eager for a glimpse. It wasn't until Aggo went down and shouted, "The Mother of Dragons didn't bring her dragons today, so stop disturbing her!" that the crowd reluctantly dispersed.
But only for a while. The next morning, when Dany led a procession of horsemen onto the Saidurion, dragon-seekers began arriving one after another, hoping to meet her.
This was the last day; by evening, the ship would set sail with the tide.
Yes, Dany was leaving Qarth.
As she left Xaro's mansion, she even presented him with a parting gift: an oversized Zhongshan suit made of golden silk with black jade buttons.
Long before Xaro revealed his scoundrel nature, back when Dany had first commissioned a Qarth tailor to make her cheongsams, she had prepared this gift for him.
In the guest-host traditions of Westeros, it was customary for guests to present their hosts with a gift as a token of gratitude before departure.
At first, Dany genuinely felt grateful toward Xaro. Back then, he was constantly sending her gifts!
Xaro, however, was a scoundrel. Despite receiving Dany's gifts, he didn't even come out to see her off. Instead, he had his steward deliver a message: the great warlock Pyat Pree would not let her leave in peace.
Dany passed on her thanks through the steward, but she paid it no mind.
Once at sea, with her dragons, she had little to fear.
At worst, Pyat Pree might disguise himself as a pirate and attempt to chase her, but the ship was made of wood, and the sails of cloth—both easily combustible.
"Khaleesi, the captain of the Gingko Maiden only brought you a silver statue about the size of an arm. Should I let him come aboard?" Jorah approached to report.
On the side of the deck facing the sea, there was a tall wooden chair where Dany sat, the black dragon lying at her feet, waiting as sailors and merchants from nearby ships formed a line to visit.
Yes, they came to see the dragon.
According to the rules Xaro had set, every visitor to the dragons had to bring a gift. The order of the visits was determined by the value of their gifts.
By the time Dany was set to visit the warlock's immortal hall, there were still many names on the list of visitors waiting to be crossed out.
Please... collect... the books... 6...9...!
Now, aboard the ship and preparing to leave tonight, Dany's "Dragon Zoo" was briefly open for business again!
The main reason was that the visitors were so enthusiastic, many of them from Essos's western continent. Dany, who had mingled in the west, didn't want to acquire a reputation as someone "reclusive and hard to approach" or "arrogant, cold-hearted, and cruel."
She needed to smile, be approachable, dress beautifully, and let everyone see how perfectly she controlled her dragons. Then the labels of "beautiful, kind, noble, and powerful" would be spread across the free cities by sailors.
Yes, to build her name.
While the main goal was to build her reputation, Dany wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to profit either. Every guest still had to bring a gift.
"What statue?" she asked.
"A young woman," Aggo replied.
"A maiden!" Whitebeard, standing guard, asked, "Is the Gingko Maiden from the Sunset Sea?"
"I don't know, but his accent is a bit like yours," Aggo said.
"Princess, you should welcome him. He's a subject from your homeland," Whitebeard advised.
Dany nodded. "Let him come aboard."
Dany had seen merchants from Lys, Braavos, Pentos, and the Summer Isles, but she had never met a true Westerosi sea merchant.
The silver statue was small and hardly worth a few coppers, but the significance of the visitor's identity was far greater.
The man who arrived was a middle-aged, thin fellow missing a front tooth. His half-long hair was graying, and his narrow horse-face was covered with a fresh layer of stubble. Clearly, he had tidied himself up before his visit.
"Great Mother of Dragons, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, true Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men!" the man with the horse-face said, using standard common speech and knightly courtesy.
"I am Captain Jordan Snow of the Gingko Maiden. Your beauty is like the moon in a tranquil lake—pure, graceful, and beyond the reach of mortals. You are the very incarnation of 'maiden' on this earth."
As he spoke, he knelt on one knee and presented a small silver statue of a "maiden" with both hands.
The dominant faith in the Seven Kingdoms was the Faith of the Seven. They worshipped seven aspects of a single deity, representing seven different virtues. However, the less educated lower classes often believed the Seven Gods were seven distinct gods.
The Father represented judgment, the Mother represented maternal love and nurturing, the Warrior represented strength in battle, the Smith represented craftsmanship and labor, the Crone represented wisdom, the Stranger represented death and the unknown.
The Maiden represented innocence and purity, and people often prayed to her for the protection of virginity. Some, like this horse-faced Jordan, used the "Maiden" to praise a woman's beauty and demeanor.
"Thank you for your gift," Dany said. "I will pray to the Seven, and may the Smith keep you safe and return you to King's Landing."
She paused, then cautiously added, "Captain Snow, you're from the North, aren't you?"
In the Seven Kingdoms, it was a tradition for bastards to take surnames derived from the most common things in the region, symbolizing their low status. For example, in the North, bastards take the surname "Snow" because of the frequent snow; in the Riverlands, it's "Flower" due to the warm climate and abundant plants; in Dorne, it's "Sand" because of the deserts; in the Vale, it's "Stone" due to the abundance of stones.
By the surname of a bastard, one could usually tell from which region they hailed.
If a noble family had a bastard, their arms typically related to the father's house, sometimes with a twist: the color might be reversed, an additional bar might be added, or the arms of both parents were combined into a new crest.
Many experienced people could tell a bastard's origins from a single glance or remark.
(End of Chapter)
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