Hearing the Dragon Mother say that, Drogon probably already guessed her plan. It was time for the Dragon Mother to show off her acting skills.
"Your Majesty, with the Unsullied, we can gradually grow stronger and have the confidence and power to find allies."
Barristan and Jorah both expressed their opinions, wanting Daenerys to listen to them, but Daenerys held Drogon in her hands, swinging him up and down, just as she had taught him to fly when he was young.
She hadn't expected the little dragon to grow so fast and soar through the sky. Fortunately, Drogon could shrink in size and stay by her side at all times.
Seeing Daenerys only focused on teasing Drogon, Jorah and the other man exchanged glances, not knowing what she was thinking.
[I'm being trained like a little dragon again. I didn't shrink to be trained again.] Drogon protested inwardly, flapping his wings and escaping Daenerys's clutches.
Daenerys: "!!!"
"Tomorrow morning, go and discuss the price with Kraznys. Jorah, make an appointment for me."
"Your Majesty..."
Jorah and Barristan wanted to ask more questions, but Daenerys had no intention of listening. She quickly walked ahead, and upon returning to the dock, entered the cabin to rest.
Drogon circled above Astapor, finding no weapons that posed a threat to dragons. He told Rhaegal and Viserion not to fly low, and took a handful of gold and silver hui coins from the treasury he had seized from the Dragon Mother.
He tasted Astapor's delicacies and ate a lot of cooked meat, but it was still not as good as the fat sheep of the grasslands, which greatly reduced his appetite. This was not conducive to his physical development.
He decided to make another trip to the grasslands before dark. In his adult form, he could fly at about 300 kilometers per hour, with a maximum speed of 500. In his juvenile form, his average speed was 500 to 600.
Two-thirds of his adult strength and physical fitness were concentrated in his juvenile form, so a round trip to the grasslands would only take a little over an hour... Upon reaching the grasslands, he grabbed a dinner to replenish his hungry stomach, then flew to a more distant place. He couldn't always shear the same few sheep.
Watching the constantly migrating Dothraki on the grasslands, Drogon's memory fragments once again showed the scene of Daenerys leading a small Khalasar from the grasslands into the Red Waste when he was just born, which made him feel a bit nostalgic.
On the ground, two Khalasars were engaged in a hunt-and-kill battle. The weaker side being swallowed up was only a matter of time. Dothraki warriors were already seizing captured women and taking care of business on the spot.
Drogon was really unaccustomed to the Dothraki custom of liking to witness everything under the sky. He couldn't do anything about it; this was their life.
Just as he was about to fly past, he suddenly saw two familiar figures in the chaotic crowd: the mother and son he had seen last time on the grasslands.
A strong Dothraki warrior blocked the mother and son who were fleeing in a panic, pushed the little boy aside, pulled the mother over, and began to tear her clothes.
The little boy got up immediately after being pushed down and tried to pull his mother. The Dothraki warrior grabbed the little boy's arm, swung him, and threw him onto the grass three meters away. This time, the little boy couldn't get up immediately and struggled to crawl towards the woman; it seemed he had fallen hard.
"Alas... a short mouth from eating someone's food." Drogon sighed inwardly and swooped down.
"Dragon! It's a dragon!" The huge dragon wings blocked a small patch of sunlight. The Dothraki fighting on the grasslands immediately noticed the anomaly and stopped their actions, running into the distance. Some even fled without having time to pull up their pants.
Drogon caught up with the Dothraki warrior who had been tearing the little boy's mother's clothes, hooked him with a claw, flew him up, and then dropped him directly from over twenty meters high.
The man struggled a few times after being thrown down, trying to get up, but couldn't. Even if he didn't die, he would be crippled for life.
Those watching from afar saw Drogon's ferocity and slowly began to retreat in fear, while the timid ones ran even further away.
Most of the fleeing Dothraki were the ones who had won the fight. Almost all the men from the losing side were dead, leaving only women and children. The women could be used for their pleasure, and the children could be sold to slave traders.
Drogon breathed Dragonfire behind the fleeing people, igniting a large area of the grasslands, but not burning anyone. He only intended to act as a deterrent.
Otherwise, after he left, the mother and son would still not escape the fate of being raped and sold.
The winning Khalasar was not wrong; this was simply the law of the jungle, where the strong preyed on the weak, on the grasslands.
After setting a few more fires to drive away the surrounding people and roaring at them, Drogon glanced at the mother and son huddled together, then ascended into the sky.
After flying for a few minutes, Drogon suddenly felt that the white sphere that had been motionless in his mind had changed. It wasn't that it had changed, but rather that pale yellow light spots were gathering around it.
It was as if a sun with only a halo was gradually beginning to emit light. Nourished by the light, the white sphere also seemed to gain vitality, no longer as lifeless as before.
"What's going on? Why is there suddenly movement?" Feeling the changes in his mind, Drogon was puzzled, but he didn't know that shortly after he flew away, the little boy and his mother knelt down and prostrated themselves in the direction he had flown.
Seeing their actions, the surviving women and children also learned from them and knelt down, though their devotion was not as fervent as the mother and son's.
After circling the grasslands, eating his fill, and having scattered most of the hui coins he brought, Drogon returned to Astapor... The next day, Daenerys, accompanied by Jorah and others, met with the Masters Kraznys and another Great Masters again. Drogon was still perched on Daenerys's shoulder.
"Ask this woman from Westeros how many Unsullied she wishes to buy." Seeing Daenerys approach, Kraznys said to the Little Slave.
"I want to buy all the Unsullied!" Before the Little Slave could even ask, Daenerys spoke first.
"You want to buy all the Unsullied?" The Little Slave was surprised.
"You foolish woman from Westeros, do you know how many Unsullied we have? Eight thousand! You can't afford them." After hearing the translation, Kraznys couldn't help but say, feeling that Daenerys was mocking him.
"Yes, I want to buy all of them, including those still in training and the recently castrated little boys."
"What will you buy them with? Even if I gave you myself, you couldn't afford them. And Unsullied who haven't completed their training cannot be sold to you; their combat effectiveness is poor and would damage our reputation." Kraznys gave a lewd smile.
"Your ships and cargo can at most buy twelve hundred Unsullied. Don't even think about the rest," Kraznys continued.
"I have dragons! I need untrained Unsullied to replenish losses," Daenerys replied.
"Your Majesty, dragons cannot be exchanged."
"Queen Daenerys, eight thousand Unsullied are not worth a single dragon."
As soon as Daenerys finished speaking, she heard two voices of opposition. At first, Jorah and Barristan were somewhat puzzled when they heard Daenerys wanted to buy all the Unsullied, but they never expected her to exchange the dragons she regarded as her children for Unsullied.