Cragg's eyes swept over his colleagues suspiciously. He was the first to stand and say, "Perhaps the Dragon Queen guessed that the wyvern knights would launch a surprise attack on the three cities of Slaver's Bay.
But she couldn't possibly know our exact target. Meereen, Yunkai, Astapor? Any of them could have been the choice.
She should not have had full knowledge of the wyvern knights' precise raid route either.
And then look at the way she arranged the assassination of Commander Benny. How could all of this be a coincidence?"
"There is a traitor among us!" declared Prince of Lys with a firm and resonant voice.
The chamber fell into silence. Eyes darted back and forth, filled with doubt and wariness.
The previously harmonious and friendly atmosphere of the meeting had become heavy and awkward.
The God of War cast a subtle sidelong glance at Cragg and said in a deep voice, "I believe in the character of the representatives here. None of you could be spies for the Mother of Dragons.
Too many people know about the raid. Most likely, the leak came from lower-ranking officers."
"Exactly. We are all targets of the Dragon Queen's revolution. Only a fool would act as her spy," said the magistrate of Volantis.
"Yes, others maybe, but us? The Mother of Dragons would never spare this group."
Even Cragg seemed convinced, nodding. "That makes sense."
Very soon, everyone reached an agreement: there may indeed be a spy, but it had nothing to do with the representatives present.
The chamber once again filled with a lively and sincere atmosphere.
Sanetti shook the letter in his hand and said, "Priestess Jennie also demands that we send someone of sufficiently high rank to Astapor, to ask about the possibility of ransoming prisoners of war.
Preferably, we should ransom the captured wyvern knights. Wyverns are easy to find, but riders are rare. It takes months to train a single knight.
The elephant cavalry and horsemen are already preparing to leave Mantarys and march east on Meereen. Time is short, and we can't afford delays. Who will go?"
"It won't matter who goes. The Dragon Queen is too shrewd. Why would she release captives, only to face them again on the battlefield?" Cragg shook his head.
"It's worth trying. Ransoming noble prisoners is a custom of Westeros. Besides, even if she wins every battle, some of her men might fall into our hands. Exchange requires reciprocity," said Grazdan.
"I'll go! At least I share a past with her, one not so fondly remembered. Even if the negotiations fail, I won't be in danger," volunteered Xaro from his stretcher.
"You had a past with the Mother of Dragons?" the representative from the Isle of Elephants asked, eyes wide in astonishment.
"It was a very beautiful time."
Xaro's eyes grew dreamy, his face intoxicated with memory. "That year, guided by fate, I traveled through a thousand miles of crimson hell with only two attendants at my side.
All for the miracle of dragons.
In the ruins of a place called 'White Cloud City,' I found her. I saved her and her horsemen.
I brought them a caravan of camels laden with water and food.
After that, we journeyed south together.
By day, she was like a little bird, full of curiosity, chirping questions about the lands and customs of the world.
Fortunately, I was well-traveled and learned, able to answer every one of her tricky questions.
At night, we sat around the fire, gazing at the stars and moon, sharing fantastical tales—such as the legend that dragons came from the moon's explosion.
When we reached Qarth, she and I lived together for several months, drinking the finest wines, tasting the most exquisite foods, and dressing her in gowns I sewed from the most splendid silks.
If not for her constant obsession with returning to King's Landing to reclaim her throne, while I loathed dealing with the cunning Westerosi, we would have been married long ago.
Alas, the past is smoke. Looking back now, a former lover has become a stranger.
Before parting, she personally made me a golden riding coat.
Wearing that coat when I see her again, no matter what she has become, she will not help but be stirred by memory."
Everyone stared, dumbfounded, their worldviews shattering.
This bald man with jeweled nose studs had such a glorious history?
Where was justice, where was law? They were ten times more handsome than him, ten times wealthier than him, yet never encountered such fortune.To marry the Dragon Queen?!What an astonishing, immortal feat that would be!
"You're not exaggerating, are you?" asked the Pirate King, smacking his lips in doubt.
"Heh, who in Qarth doesn't know of it?" Xaro sneered proudly.
Cragg looked at him enviously. "If it were me, I'd give up everything just to… ahem, to correct this world-class mistake and guide her onto the righteous path of order."
"If I had known it would come to this ending, I would have sacrificed myself for the cause," Xaro sighed with regret.
The War God looked down at himself. His body was tall and powerful, his build strong. He touched his face—square, angular, and well-defined.
Thinking of his wealth and status, he was superior to Xaro in every way.
And yet—
"Sigh!" The War God let out a long, dejected breath.
After the meeting, the War God quietly sought out Xaro. "Cragg is suspicious. He may be the Dragon Queen's spy."
Xaro was shocked. "What? But you said—"
"To maintain stability, to avoid alerting the enemy, I had to say that," Grazdan waved his hand solemnly.
"But why? Cragg is a Prince of Lys, a great slave master!" Xaro asked in confusion.
The War God shook his head. "I don't know why. But my suspicion is not without reason.
First, he was the first to stand up and accuse the assembly of having a traitor.
Most likely, he was shouting to catch a thief.
Second, Galys Hightower is Rhaenys's brother, which makes him Cragg's brother-in-law."
"By the gods, I never noticed that."
Xaro slapped his forehead and said with sudden realization, "Cragg's wife died in the Pleasure Gardens of Lys—burned alive by the Dragon Queen."
Then he formally married Liness Hightower.
And Garth was Daenerys's White Knight, as well as Liness's second brother.
Now Liness is in New Ghis. She most likely already knows of our plan.
Ah, we were careless. Secrets like this should never have been discussed in front of so many people.
Yes, Liness managed to rise in status, promoted from mistress to Prince Trig's principal wife.
The last time Daenerys passed through Lys, she unexpectedly landed on Trig's Sky Tower.
In order to save her own life, Liness revealed nearly all the locations of Valyrian steel weapons she knew to the Dragon Queen.
At that time, she played a clever trick, borrowing Daenerys's blade to have Trig's principal wife killed.
The Dragon Queen then set fire to several of the highest-class pleasure gardens, burning alive more than a dozen princes and dozens of nobles who had been indulging in group entertainments.
Trig's wife happened to be in one of those pleasure gardens.
Do not doubt it—such is the "simple" life of the Lyseni nobility, brimming with their most primal pleasures.
"Sigh, the web of relationships among Westerosi nobles is far too complicated, impossible to guard against," Xaro lamented.
Grazdan said in a low voice, "The way Trig rose to power is rather suspicious, as if the Dragon Queen had a hand in it."
"How so?" Xaro asked in surprise.
"Trig's bloodline is not noble, he had no qualification at all to become a representative of Lys. Yet nearly all the princes ranked above him in status have died at the Dragon Queen's hand.
Moreover, when the Dragon Queen descended upon Lys, the very first place she went was Trig's Sky Tower.
I will have people keep watch on Trig and his wife. When you go on your embassy to Astapor, you may also discreetly sound out Daenerys. With your wit and charm, you should be able to manage it, yes?"
"Of course!" Xaro agreed without the slightest hesitation.
Astapor, steelworks in the southern part of the city.
By the forge, Tobho shouted loudly as the apprentice smiths swiftly added charcoal to the six furnace mouths, then vigorously pumped the bellows. Fresh air roared through the iron pipes into the furnace.
In the center of the furnace, orange-red flames surged seven or eight meters high, like a spear piercing into the heavens.
The heat spread like a tidal wave, unceasing, radiating outward and forcing the apprentices' cheeks to burn red and their bodies to drip with sweat.
"Almost ready." Tobho licked his parched lips and looked expectantly at the Dragon Queen.
The furnace had been built in a spacious courtyard.
It was a regular hexagon made of red brick, each side one and a half meters long, two meters high, with a window-sized charcoal inlet on each side, each connected to a bellows nozzle.
On one side there was also a smelting chamber, pressed from natural graphite, inside which lay a Valyrian steel sword.
In essence, six ordinary furnaces had been built together to heat the central smelting chamber.
According to Tobho's ritual, at this point several living people should have been thrown into the central fire, the incantation recited, a black goat sacrificed, and its divine power used to smelt Valyrian steel.
But Daenerys firmly rejected the method of human sacrifice.
She had gone to great lengths to secure for Drogon the title of "Smith." Now the time had come to test the results.
"Hiss—crack—"
Drogon ignored the blazing heat of the bricks and sprawled directly on them, his maw aligned with the central fire opening.
The Smith took his place. Faith and magic fused into the divine power of the Smith.
"BOOM!!!"
A jet of brilliant glazed-red dragonflame shot forth like a pillar of water, surging into the smelting chamber.
Daenerys stepped forward.
The heatwave whipped through her loose, silken silver hair, while she recited the incantations for smelting Valyrian steel. Her own magical power remained intact.
But Drogon's divine power began to burn away faster and faster, flowing like a stream into the Valyrian steel sword within the chamber.
Indeed, the smelting incantations of Qohor required no personal magic. Tobho the smith had none to begin with. The spells merely borrowed and channeled the power of a dark god.
And the Valyrian steel sword seemed like a deep reservoir, greedily swallowing every drop of divine power.
"The Smith labors day and night, all things arranged in order. The hammer and bellows, the fire burning bright, forging the world for little children."
Daenerys began chanting aloud the Song of the Seven—Smith's Hymn, and the divine power within the Valyrian steel sword began to boil.
The song itself carried no magic, but it was like a spark dropped into a pot of boiling oil.
"Singing the Smith's song can smelt Valyrian steel?"
Tyrion twitched at the corner of his mouth and glanced at Tobho, whose face was grave.
"If this actually works, the Black Goat of Qohor may as well retire. The Smith requires no sacrifices at all!"
Tobho turned his head and said calmly, "The Black Goat of Qohor has existed since Valyria, and it will continue to exist."
"Ah, my aunt is wonderful in all things—except that she is far too devout!"
Remembering how she had refused his marriage proposal, remembering how she threatened to build a "virgin's house" to lock him inside if he dared harbor impure thoughts, Aegon could not help but cover his forehead with a sigh.
"Your Highness, you should learn from Her Majesty. To devoutly worship the Seven is the best and truest path to becoming a great knight," Clinton said solemnly.
"That's not wrong. Faith in the Seven is far more beloved among the people of the Seven Kingdoms than blasphemy. Even if you fake it, you should pretend as well as the Queen," Tyrion said with a grin.
"No matter how devout, what use is it if the Seven have no power?" Tobho shook his head.
"You mean, it failed?" Aemon asked with a frown.
"Most likely—"
Suddenly an apprentice cried out, cutting him off. "It melted! The Valyrian steel sword has melted!"
(End of Chapter)
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