Little Mist was a newly born life. Everything in the outside world stirred in her an irresistible curiosity and a desire to explore.
Because of this, she was nothing like the lifeless Ah-Fu, who preferred to remain still in Dany's sea of consciousness. She longed for sunlight, reveled in the touch of fresh wind, and never tired of frolicking among the flowers.
At dawn, she would wake atop the apple tree. While the Dragon Queen practiced her swordsmanship, Little Mist stood on a persimmon branch and sang a soft, melodious tune. By midmorning, her translucent wings beat rapidly in the sun as she worked like a diligent little bee, carrying a tiny watering jug the size of an apple to water flowers and pull weeds.
Whenever she encountered pests, she would point a finger and shoot out a thin streak of fire, cleanly incinerating the target.
At noon, she would leave the pyramid to chase birds and butterflies across the sky.
In the afternoon, she transformed into a raven and joined the shapeshifter animal spy network, circling above the marching column of the western allied forces.
By dusk, she would return to the Great Pyramid and chirp away like a lively sparrow, telling the Dragon Queen everything she had seen and all the intelligence she had gathered about the allied army.
After nightfall, she would patrol around the pyramid once more before returning to the tiny wooden house hanging from the treetop in the garden to rest.
Many times, when Dany needed to deliver messages or issue formal orders to her subordinates, Little Mist acted as her herald. She would verbally relay the Queen's instructions or carry a scroll of "royal decree" to the intended recipient.
Not just Jorah — even the common folk of Meereen knew that the Dragon Queen had captured a tree spirit on the distant continent of Sothoryos.
Aside from those close to Dany, no one knew Little Mist's true origin. With creatures like giant apes roaming Sothoryos, seeing a tree spirit did not seem strange at all.
At first, everyone was dazzled by Little Mist's delicate features and adorable appearance. But in a world where dragons and giants were commonplace, even such a fantastical pixie only dominated the headlines for four or five days before people simply got used to her.
Except for those who truly understood who she was.
For example, old Aemon, who always suspected that Dany was bragging.
He believed Little Mist wasn't created by her at all. Instead, she was likely a pet Dany had found in the rainforest while searching for wyverns — much like her claim of having a thirty-meter-tall gorilla companion.
Big Bear had the same doubts at first.
But the Dragon Queen had single-handedly taken on twenty-six khals. Compared to that, creating a fire spirit didn't seem impossible.
"The souls of the Children of the Forest differ from those of ordinary men. If our souls fail to enter the divine realm after death, they quickly unravel and scatter between heaven and earth. Theirs, however, remain preserved through a strange and enduring method."
Dany paused, her expression uncertain, her tone wavering. "Perhaps 'enduring' still has a limit. Otherwise, only three thousand ravens wouldn't remain.
"But your father's soul is certainly less resilient than that of a Child of the Forest. That much is undeniable.
"Unless my ability of 'Creation through Fire' advances several more times, there's a very real chance I could destroy your father's soul entirely."
"How long would that take? Will my father's raven die of old age?" Jorah asked, visibly anxious.
"Your father's raven definitely won't live as long as a Child of the Forest. Its lifespan should be about the same as that of an ordinary raven."
Jorah's father had simply been lucky to encounter Jon before his consciousness completely faded. Otherwise, he would be no different from any common bird now.
"When will your creation power advance? Will it happen in time?" Big Bear pressed with growing worry.
"I'm not sure."
At present, Dany could only guess at two possible ways to improve her "Creation through Fire" ability: finding more Child-of-the-Forest ravens and converting them into fire spirits to gain experience through practice; or killing the Sheep-Egg and chanting her own Song of Fire.
Fundamentally speaking, "Creation through Fire" was one attribute of the Song of Fire, and mastering the song would certainly amplify that attribute.
Dany had even vaguely realized why R'hllor and the Sheep-Egg coveted her bloodline so much.
They wanted to seize this unique attribute of the Song of Fire.
Aemon hesitated, half doubtful, and asked, "If you can resurrect the dead, then you're no different from the Holy Mother, are you?"
Isn't the Holy Mother just me? Dany grumbled in her heart, though the corner of her lips curved into a smug smile. "The Holy Mother can only revive devout followers who have just died and whose bodies remain intact.
"I, however, can grant a soul an entirely new life. In theory, that is a higher form of power."
"Dany, you're the High Septa of the Seven. Don't blaspheme the Holy Mother!" Aemon protested anxiously.
"Old man, I'm a deity too," Dany said with a wide grin.
Two hundred thousand screaming warriors were marching in mighty formations, moving south from Vaes Dothrak toward the Rhoyne in batches of forty thousand. The allied forces were neither blind nor deaf, and no one was foolish. Everyone understood exactly what this meant.
Four hundred kilometers west of Meereen, in a hilly coastal region, a narrow man-made earthen tunnel housed the gathered high command of the allied forces' eastern and western armies.
At an oval conference table, Jenny sat closest to the inner part of the cave, occupying the seat of honor. On her left and right were the War God of Yunkai (commander of the eastern army) and the triangular-faced Sibelio (commander of the western army).
Below them sat the Ragged Prince, now clad in a full suit of fine steel armor; the Long-Nose King commanding five thousand war elephants; Triarch Craig of the Three Sisters Fleet; Zaro, commander of the allied Third Fleet; Sanetti, commander of the Second Fleet.
In total, nearly twenty people had gathered — all because of one person: Dany, the Horse-Emperor.
"Everyone, Daenerys has already been crowned as the King of the Khals. The horsemen who should have been our allies have instead submitted to her. A force of two hundred thousand is now advancing toward the Rhoyne. What do you make of this?" the War God of Yunkai asked first.
"Two hundred thousand… more troops than our entire allied force. How are we supposed to fight that?" Sanetti said with despair.
"We're finished. There's no hope," Craig sighed helplessly. "Before the horsemen arrive, we should disband the alliance and return home individually. At least we can cut our losses."
"And then what?" Zaro arched a brow and pushed back.
"What do you mean 'then'?" Craig asked, confused.
"Why did we form this alliance?"
Zaro straightened his back and fixed his sharp gaze on the Prince of Lys — the very man who had previously accused him of being a traitor.
"This war has nothing to do with honor. And it has little to do with money either."
It concerns nothing less than our survival.
Qohor, Volantis, Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and the cities of the Jade Sea are all slave-holding states.
And it is not only because of the slave trade.
In these cities, the ratio of slaves to freefolk is as high as four to one. Our wealth, our rule, and our privileged way of life are all built on the bones of slaves.
Without slaves, it would be like a house losing its foundation, a forest withering without roots, or a river cut off at its source. Our glory would disappear completely.
Either Daenerys swears to abandon her plan to "liberate all the slaves in the world," or we relinquish our current ruling status. Otherwise, the conflict between us and her will never be resolved.
Escape?
Where could we escape to?
If we do not eliminate her this time, once Slaver's Bay recovers and she leads the Mother of Dragons Guard to sweep across the great city-states, what walls can stop dragons? How many guards can stop two hundred thousand Screaming Warriors?
When that time comes, what end do you think awaits us?
Do you intend to accept the same fate as the Ghiscari nobles in Meereen's labor camps, losing your wealth and status, spending every day mining in the mountains or cutting lumber, planting potatoes in the fields?
Quhogo sighed helplessly and said, "I understand everything you're saying. Otherwise, I wouldn't have dipped into my own funds and spent a million in gold to take part in this war. But against two hundred thousand Screaming Warriors—tell me, how do we win?"
"That's right. We were already at a disadvantage. Now their strength grows while ours shrinks. Our chances are almost zero. What Prince Quhogo said hurts morale, but it is also the only thing one can say when driven to desperation."
Everyone else was like wilted gourd vines scorched under the June sun: heads drooping, spirits defeated.
The War God Yuan Kai also frowned deeply.
He was the supreme commander of the eastern army and should have been stationed at the Rhazash River.
The only reason he traveled thousands of miles to attend the coalition meeting was that the two hundred thousand Screaming Warriors targeted him first.
He glanced at the expressionless Rag-Cloaked Prince and the Long-Nosed King, then studied Jennie closely. Her small, plain face was solemn, yet she did not show the slightest hint of panic.
It seemed she still had a trump card.
A thought stirred in his mind. Yuan Kai lowered his voice and said, "Lady Jennie, the vanguard of the horsemen will enter the Rhazash River basin within twenty days.
The eastern coalition is made up of Jade Sea slavers, pirates, bandits, and mercenaries. The soldiers are a chaotic mix, their resolve is weak, and there are only forty thousand of them. They cannot withstand even one charge from the Screaming Warriors.
On the night the news arrived that Daenerys had become the Khaleesi of all khals, a pirate group fled the camp.
I sensed something was wrong beforehand. After capturing them, I had them all beheaded and displayed, just barely keeping morale steady.
Even so, these past few days I can clearly feel the camp is unsettled. The mercenaries look at me strangely.
The closer the horsemen get to the Rhazash River, the greater the chance the troops will mutiny. Does Lady Jennie have a solution?"
The Rag-Cloaked Prince glanced at Jennie and said, "Abandon the original eastern plan. Either go downstream and force your way into Slaver's Bay, or take the mountain trails and meet our western army beneath the walls of Meereen."
Grazdan's pupils contracted. He was now certain: Jennie still held a killer move.
But what kind of killing move could deal with two hundred thousand horsemen?
No one present was a fool. They immediately came to the same conclusion as the War God: the Valyrian survivors still had a hidden card.
Quhogo was about to question her sharply, but he suddenly met Jennie's cold, inhuman eyes. A shiver ran down his spine. He turned his head and muttered to the mercenary leader, "If even we have no confidence, how can we reassure the soldiers beneath us?"
"You guessed right. I have kept something from you," Jennie finally said.
Her expression was cool, but her attitude was frank. "I have a secret method to deal with Daenerys. I can even kill her with a single strike. But there is one condition: the secret must not be leaked beforehand."
Sanetti frowned, glanced at the mercenary leader, and asked, "Does the Rag-Cloaked Prince know?"
"He is a devout follower of His Grace Balerion and is fully trustworthy," Jennie replied calmly.
The group exchanged complicated looks. They were delighted that the Valyrians indeed wielded extraordinary methods, yet also frustrated that they ranked lower than a mercenary.
"Lady Jennie is right," Quhogo said, slanting a glance at Zaro across the table and sneering. "Some people are supposedly part of our coalition, yet their hearts have already flown to Meereen. Lady Jennie cannot be too cautious."
"So this is what it feels like to be bitten by a dog—it goes straight to the bone!"
Zaro could no longer contain his rage. The ruby set in his nose trembled as he growled, "You are the one who betrayed the coalition, yet you slander me!
When New Ghis fell, your wife admitted it herself. You were the one who leaked the information—"
Quhogo's face twisted with fury. He cut him off. "That was Daenerys's scheme, meant to make me the scapegoat!
If not for Sanetti helping me gather the correspondence of the coalition commanders in New Ghis, and comparing their handwriting, we wouldn't have identified you as the real traitor!"
"Fool, shut up!" Jennie roared. "I told you long ago that the spy was a skin-changer's animal companion.
Daenerys deliberately pitted the two of you against each other. And now you've actually fallen for it?"
(End of chapter)
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