A warrior of the Sheep People pushed his way hurriedly through the Dothraki and knelt before Khal Kerse. His voice was trembling, but solemn.
"The priestess who serves the Great Shepherd in the temple wishes to speak with you."
The murmuring was immediate.
The Dothraki warriors frowned; some spat on the ground, others laughed with contempt.
"Priestess…" Kerse murmured softly, calmly turning the small dagger between his fingers. In his eyes gleamed a mixture of caution and curiosity.
Daenerys turned pale.
She remembered the stories Jhiqui told around the campfire—tales of witches who spoke with demons, women who stole souls and twisted fate with words whispered to the fire.
"Mph… she's just a witch. Let me go and burn her…" Maegor growled with a savage grin.
"Hey!"
Before he could finish, Rhaenys struck him sharply on the head. She glared at him, and the boy shrank back, rubbing his skull.
Khal Kerse rose to his feet.
His voice was firm, deep, impossible to ignore.
"Thor Horse-Head commands us to respect the beliefs of other peoples, even those of the Lamb Folk. Whoever shows disrespect to foreign gods must apologize."
As he spoke, his mind went much further.
I spent years studying the god of the Dothraki before daring to shape their faith, he thought. Before acting, I must know whether this Great Shepherd is merely a statue… or something more.
Kerse turned to the sheep warrior.
"Show me the way."
"Wait, my khal! I will go with you," Molegro intervened at once, stepping forward.
"There is no need," Kerse replied without looking at him. "Stay here. Protect my wives and my children."
Molegro clenched his fists, on the verge of protesting.
He never did.
Kerse moved suddenly, grabbed him with one hand, and hurled him several steps back as if he were a child.
The impact kicked up dust.
Kerse bent down until he was face to face with him and spoke softly, but with heavy authority.
"Believe me when I say that I can face anyone who stands against me. That is precisely why you will protect my family."
Molegro swallowed and nodded.
From a few steps back, Ser Jorah watched the scene with his stomach tightening. He had seen strong men before, but never anyone lift another adult with one hand and no visible effort.
Kerse followed the sheep warrior to the temple.
The building stood out even among the finest structures of Lhazareen.
Its sun-baked brick walls were worn by time, yet solid. Delicate reliefs covered the walls, telling ancient myths: shepherds guiding endless flocks beneath benevolent stars. The tiled roof gleamed in the sunlight, as if it still retained divine favor.
Before the entrance stood an enormous statue.
Half human, half goat.
The Great Shepherd.
Its torso was human, with a wise face, short beard, and serene eyes. From the waist down, the body of a powerful sheep, covered in wool carved with unsettling realism.
Kerse studied it carefully.
"The statues of Thor Horse-Head are more imposing," he thought with a hint of arrogance as he crossed the threshold.
The interior of the temple was spacious and silent.
An eternal flame burned at the center of the hall. Murals of vivid colors covered the walls, depicting cycles of life, sacrifice, and rebirth.
A woman awaited him there.
Old. Fat. Wrapped in a light woolen robe with intricate patterns that spoke of status and ritual.
"My name is Mirri Maz Duur," she said in flawless Dothraki. Her voice carried a strange, almost ethereal tone. "I am the priestess of this temple."
Khal Kerse did not answer at once.
He studied her closely.
He knew her story.
In another line of fate, her people had been massacred, her temple profaned, and she raped by three men. In that future, Mirri had paid blood with blood, and Khal Drogo had died from a wound that should never have killed him.
But this was not that world.
Lhazareen had not burned. The temple still stood. She had not been touched.
She had no reason to hate him.
"Why did you ask to see me?" Kerse asked at last.
"I have no ill intentions toward you," Mirri replied, looking him directly in the eyes. "I wish to guide some priestesses to heal your warriors. To mend their wounds. To ease their pain."
Interest flashed in Kerse's eyes, but he restrained it.
"Why help me?"
"All living beings are lambs of the Great Shepherd," she answered calmly. "My faith taught me that I was sent into this world to heal, regardless of where or whom."
Kerse narrowed his eyes.
"You have not answered."
Mirri's voice trembled slightly.
"We hope to follow in your steps… and spread the gospel of the Supreme Shepherd to the ends of the world."
Kerse watched her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"I will not interfere in your affairs," he said. "And I expect the same respect. I honor all gods… even the Lamb God."
The eternal flame crackled.
And, for the first time, two faiths regarded one another without blood between them.