Whether to go to Qarth or not was, in truth, much like the question back then of "whether to lead the khalasar south." It seemed unpredictable, not a decision to be made lightly—yet there was no real alternative.
"Princess, it's obvious they came here seeking dragons, and their concern for your dragon goes beyond mere interest. Once any of them decides to seize it by force, staying here would actually put you in greater danger," Jorah said after a moment of thought.
"Oh?"
"All trade cities are the same. Whether common merchants or trade princes, they value profit over honor, care little for righteousness, and possess no sense of glory—but there is one thing that everyone can trust," a sharp glint flashed through Jorah's eyes. "That thing is the very foundation on which they survive, and the foundation upon which trade cities exist in this world: credit."
"Simply put, on the open sea or the wild roads, any merchant might turn into a bandit and use force to seize what he desires.
"But inside a trade city, they will skillfully use deception, extortion, temptation, and other methods to gain profit—yet they will never openly seize another's property by force."
Seeing the thoughtful look on Daenerys's face, he smiled and continued, "The greater the merchant, the more sinister and subtle his methods. But this world is vast, and information flows freely.
"If Xaro and the other two have extended an invitation to you, then in theory, they have also taken on the responsibility of protecting your safety.
"It's not because they are noble, but because their reputation among other merchants is far more valuable than any immediate gain.
"Princess, you've wandered through the great city-states of the western continent for a long time. You should understand this more deeply than most."
Daenerys nodded. The usurper's bounty on the Targaryen siblings had never ceased, yet not a single trade prince or governor who had hosted them had chopped off their heads to claim the reward.
The利益 were not equal.
But the only three dragons in the world were enough to make anyone willingly abandon both honor and credit.
"Even the guest right so revered in the Seven Kingdoms has been trampled before, hasn't it?" she said.
Jorah looked as though he'd been struck dumb, eyes wide with disbelief. "Aside from the legendary Rat Cook, who has ever violated guest right? Even the stupidest, most insane, most ignorant person wouldn't deliberately destroy guest right!"
Heh. In a couple of years, when news of Robb Stark's death arrives, you won't be so surprised.
"Who was the Rat Cook?" she asked.
"The Rat Cook was a member of the Night's Watch, serving as a cook at the Nightfort. He bore a deep hatred toward the King of Casterly Rock at the time. When that Andal king came to inspect the Wall with his son and his bannermen, the Watch received them as guests.
"One night, the Rat Cook seized his chance and assassinated the king's son. Then he baked the prince's flesh together with onions, carrots, mushrooms, and other seasonings into a huge meat pie, sprinkling it with pepper and salt, serving it with bacon and dark red Dornish wine.
"He presented the pie to the king. The king ate his own son's flesh and loudly praised its taste, even asking the cook for another slice.
"Even the gods could not tolerate this. They transformed the cook into a white rat as fat as a sow, and from then on, he could eat only his own children.
"The Rat Cook wandered the Nightfort ever since, driven by an eternal, unquenchable hunger, endlessly devouring his own descendants."
Under the dim lamplight, Jorah's indistinct features carried an indescribable eeriness. Daenerys's two Dothraki handmaids huddled together, almond-shaped eyes filled with panic as they looked around, as if searching for a white rat that might leap out at any moment.
"Ahem, a very fine bedtime story," Daenerys said lightly, clearing her throat. "But isn't it a bit lacking in deterrent power?"
"It's true! In the North, even children know this story!" Jorah protested indignantly.
"The first half of the story is probably true, but the divine punishment at the end…" Daenerys shook her head and asked, "Which god do you think punished the Rat Cook?"
Jorah replied at once, "The gods are the gods, of course—all of them couldn't stand his wanton trampling of guest right!"
"Heh. The North—especially the lands around the Wall—belongs to the Old Gods, while the Andals worship the Seven. Humans may, for the sake of political harmony, accept the coexistence of the Seven and the Old Gods.
"But the Faith of the Seven recognizes only itself as the one true faith. If their god truly existed, why would He cooperate with the Old Gods to punish a single human?"
Jorah sighed, looking helpless. "Princess, the purpose of this story is to warn the world: a man may have the right to vengeance, but if he murders a guest beneath his own roof and tramples guest right, the gods will never forgive him."
"Whether the gods exist, or which god punished the Rat Cook, doesn't matter," he concluded in the tone of someone lecturing a naughty child. "What matters is that we learn from this story to respect the sacred law of guest right."
Sigh… the one who doesn't understand is you, Great Bear.
Precisely because the moral lesson of the story was so blatant, its authenticity was greatly diminished.
The story taught the clever a different lesson altogether: by exploiting others' trust in guest right, one could exact revenge easily and thoroughly—and the gods would never punish him for it.
The Rat Cook's end may indeed have been miserable, but the one who punished him would only have been that grief-stricken king, not the gods.
To the Rat Cook, a mere commoner exiled to the Wall, vengeance was almost impossible to begin with—let alone vengeance against a king.
Guest right meant absolutely nothing to someone like that.
Still, such thoughts were better kept to herself. If she spoke them aloud, others would surely look at her in a very different light: So Princess, you're that kind of person.
As if she had already done something unspeakable.
So Daenerys simply asked, "You suggest we go to Qarth?"
Jorah nodded seriously. "Qarth is a great city linking the eastern and western worlds. It has what you need—ships and sailors. If we find the Qartheen harbor ill intent, we can leave by sea immediately."
"Robert Baratheon is dead. Do you truly have no thoughts about that?" He stared at her intently, as though trying to pierce the violet mist before him and look straight into her heart.
Let the Others go be king of the Seven Kingdoms!
Daenerys complained silently, but her expression showed none of it. Instead, she revealed a look of yearning and said, "Do I have a chance?"
Westeros was Jorah's homeland. He had only agreed to spy for Robert so he could return home.
There was no doubt that between Baratheon and Daenerys, the balance in his heart had already tilted heavily toward Daenerys.
But if he learned that Daenerys had no intention of returning to the Seven Kingdoms, then the other side of the scale would no longer hold "loyalty to King's Landing and the current king," but instead "the temptation of going home."
Homesickness and love stood on equal footing.
Not to mention that someone had already handed the poor knight a good person card long ago.
"Out here, we receive no information at all, so I can't judge the current situation in the Seven Kingdoms. But one thing is certain—even if the usurper is dead, he still has two sons, and the queen is a Lannister!
"At the very least, the Baratheons and the Lannisters will obstruct your return.
"Eddard Stark regarded Robert almost as a true brother; he wouldn't support you either.
"And the Arryns of the Vale, the Tullys of the Trident, and the Starks are bound by marriage—they also…" Jorah said, his face twisted with conflict.
He didn't know that none of the queen's sons were Baratheons, nor that Eddard had already been imprisoned by the queen—perhaps even already beheaded by the new king, Joffrey.
In recent years, Westeros's political landscape had been more unpredictable than a storm at sea. Qarth was still far too distant from King's Landing, with severe delays and distortions in information.
"Sigh, Princess. Let's avoid Westeros for now and wait peacefully for the dragons to grow," Jorah offered a cautious, seasoned suggestion.
Daenerys nodded. Jorah had always been careful—and realistic.
"What do you suggest?" she asked, turning to the Dothraki who had been spectators all this time.
"Khaleesi, you are my blood of my blood. Wherever you say we go, we go!" Qotho scratched his bare head, saying irritably.
The Dothraki didn't want to go far from the grasslands. They believed seawater was poisoned water and should be avoided at all costs. But their simple minds couldn't come up with a better idea, leaving them restless and helpless.
Seeing that the other two bloodriders shared the same stance, Daenerys turned to the elder representatives. "Afanthi, Solomon, what do you think?"
"How about we sneak away tonight and head west into the mountains?" Afanthi offered a rather foolish suggestion.
The old man from Qohor immediately shook his head and advised, "If we deceive the Qartheen, then we are no longer their friends and honored guests, but their enemies. Have you thought about this—how did they find us in the first place?"
"Prophecy! The shadowbinders can see the future!" Jhiqui cried out in fear.
Irri corrected her. "It was the stars guiding them. I heard that blue-lipped warlock say it myself this afternoon."
"They'll find us even if we go west," Doreah nodded.
"Quaithe, from tomorrow onward, you are not to leave my dragons' side for a single moment," Daenerys said, having made her decision, addressing her "dragon guard."
"Khaleesi, as long as I live, no one will steal your dragons," Quaithe said solemnly.
With a consensus reached, early the next morning Daenerys informed the three guests of her decision.
Quaithe's expression remained unreadable as ever. The warlock and the merchant openly expressed their joy and welcome, both solemnly promising that in Qarth, Daenerys and her khalasar would be under their protection.
That same morning, Daenerys sent riders to notify the herders of the other two White Cities to bring the khalasar's horse herds to Cloudwhite City. Those hunting in the western mountains were also informed.
Thus, four days later, Daenerys's khalasar set out once more.
Their destination: Qarth, to the southwest.
Of course, during those four days, Daenerys wasn't idle. She arranged for Aggo to ride ahead alone, with three horses, carrying sufficient food and water, to reach Qarth first.
Xaro wrote a letter for Aggo. Upon arriving in Qarth, he only needed to hand it to Xaro's steward, and a group of servants would lead a camel caravan out toward the Red Waste.
The camels would carry vast quantities of food and fresh water. More importantly, the khalasar would no longer need to spare their horses. Once the camels arrived, the Dothraki could switch to the far more comfortable camels.
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
"Game of Thrones: Political Life"
"Game of Thrones: Holy Flame"
"The Game of Thrones Upgrade System"
"Game of Thrones: Lannister Kingdom"
"Game of Thrones: Godzilla vs. Dragons"
"Game of Thrones: Ruler of the Deep Seas "
"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
"Game of Thrones: The Most Powerful Dragon Queen"
" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
"Game of Thrones: Rise of a Lord with the Army-Building System"
(End Chapter)