"As for Westeros..." Jorah said, his expression darkening with resignation. "I don't know if you should abandon the dangerous Iron Throne, but I know this: the longer you stay in one place, the easier it is for your enemies to find you. The Targaryen name strikes fear into the hearts of traitors, especially now that they know you have dragons."
"Sir, I'm truly grateful for your thoughtful concern," Daenerys said sincerely. She met his gaze directly and asked, "Westeros is merely a dream to me, but what does it mean to you? Without me as queen, could I still have a completely loyal Queen's Guard?"
Daenerys had never truly intended to claim the Iron Throne. All her displays of ambition for Westeros were merely a means of deception.
She sought to deceive Xaro, the Qarthi, Quaithe, and even Jorah Mormont was a crucial target of this deception.
To Daenerys, Westeros meant nothing, but to the Great Bear, it was an unshakeable homeland.
Jorah Mormont couldn't deny that his loyalty to Daenerys was partly because she held such a strong hope of restoring the Targaryen dynasty.
With Daenerys crowned queen, Jorah, as her Queen's Guard, could finally wash away the stains on his name and return home in triumph.
"Daenerys, you can completely trust the loyalty of a devoted admirer," he said, using her given name.
"That's precisely the problem," Daenerys sighed. "If I can never reciprocate your feelings, nor allow you to return home in glory, what meaning does your loyalty hold?"
"Your Highness, why must you be so cruel?" Jorah asked with a bitter smile.
*Keeping you as a backup is the real cruelty,* Daenerys thought.
"You're a reliable brother and a trustworthy friend. I don't want to deceive you, so please don't deceive me either," she said.
Jorah's face flushed crimson with emotion. At the last sentence, his complexion suddenly paled, and he blurted out, "I haven't deceived you, and I never will."
*You're deceiving me right now.*
*Today was the perfect opportunity to confess. If you'd just seized the moment and revealed your identity as a spy in King's Landing, I would have forgiven you. That would have ended your torment as a double agent. How could you have missed it?*
Daenerys could entrust her safety to this Queen's Guard, but complete trust remained elusive. At least for now.
"Sir, tomorrow you'll take Aggo to the Blacksmiths' Guild to order some leather armor," Daenerys said. She had initially wanted to say "iron armor," but considering the Dothraki's circumstances, she quickly changed her mind to "leather armor."
First, traditional views hadn't changed. Dothraki warriors rejected iron armor, viewing combat while hidden behind metal as cowardly.
Second, light cavalry warriors lacked the combat discipline and awareness of heavy armored cavalry. In simpler terms, the Dothraki hadn't yet invested in the "heavy cavalry" skill.
Third, Daenerys recalled the camel cavalry's bronze armor. The city guards didn't even use iron armor, which made her doubt the Qarthians' ironworking technology.
She explained these three reasons to the Great Bear. "Given your knightly expertise, select a lightweight leather armor that can defend against arrows. Hmm, you could add a breastplate and backplate for extra protection."
"This..." Jorah hesitated for a moment before saying, "Your Highness, you haven't experienced battle firsthand. I'm afraid you don't understand that no leather armor can meet your requirements."
Daenerys bristled at being called a war novice. While it was true she hadn't fought in battle, she had devoured countless anti-Japanese war dramas and historical novels on certain websites. Everyone knew that iron pots could stop bullets, and that hardened leather and cotton armor could withstand arrows—it was common knowledge!
"My requirements are quite modest," Daenerys said, her face impassive. "I only need something that can withstand a barrage of arrows."
"A mass of archers?" Great Bear shook his head, his expression growing more bitter. "Arrows forged from fine steel can pierce iron armor, let alone leather?"
"That must be a rare few, then?"
"Li Guang could even shoot through boulders, but how many such heroes are there?"
"Ah, let me put it this way: aside from the double-strung dragonbone bow, the Goldenwood Bow of the Summer Isles is the most renowned. An elite Red Arrowman wielding a goldenheart wood bow can pierce thin leather armor at 400 meters (ps). But I understand your needs. You want the Dothraki to charge into a hail of arrows, and at that range, nothing can truly stop a barrage."
(ps: This is from the original setting. The Summer Isles' swan ships often carry a group of Red Arrowmen to defend against pirates. Goldenheart wood is the finest material for making bows and arrows. Kuhuru, the captain of the *Laurel Wind* and the dragon-tamer who received a painting from Big Black, has a daughter who is a Red Arrowman and can hit targets at 360 meters.)
Daenerys asked, her face still impassive, "Are you sure about 400 meters? Not just one person, but an entire group?"
Jorah nodded. "If you don't believe me, go to the docks. You'll find many merchant ships from the Summer Isles docked there, each with at least one elite archer.
By the way, Kuhuru of the Laurel Wind comes from the Summer Isles, but he's likely been at sea for days.
Pirates roam the seas. Even if we win a boarding battle, we'll still lose a significant amount of cargo. That's why skilled archers are so essential."
"Ah, I see," Daenerys sighed dejectedly, waving her hand. "I'll just get a leather armor set with iron plates on the chest. Some protection is better than none."
The next morning, Jorah and Aggo went to the Blacksmiths' Guild.
It was an alliance of weapon merchants and blacksmiths, offering everything from swords and spears to kitchen knives, hoes, and sickles. They also stocked leather armor, saddles, and horseshoes.
The Little Khal's fighting force numbered just over 100, a small account for the Blacksmiths' Guild. They could complete Daenerys's order in a few days.
During this time, a minor dispute arose between Jorah and Aggo over the helmets.
The Westerosi knights understood Daenerys's intention to protect her warriors and therefore selected an "full-body" iron helmet.
The helmet had a face guard, gorget, and a neck guard that extended like a skirt.
For the Horsemen, wearing such a helmet would be a great burden due to their long, thick braids at the back of their heads. They disliked it intensely.
The two men argued at the blacksmith's shop, and the dispute eventually reached Daenerys. After considering the matter, she instructed the blacksmith to drill a hole in the back of the helmet to accommodate the braids.
"It's ugly, and the extra hole creates a vulnerability," Jorah grumbled.
"Ah, that leather armor is already full of holes. What's one more?" Daenerys sighed.
In addition to the armor, Daenerys ordered a large batch of hand crossbows, including single-handed ones that could be cocked by hand and heavier two-handed ones that required the user to step on a lever to cock them.
While nearly every Horseman carried a bow and arrows, hand crossbows were rare. Only Drogo owned a gold-inlaid black wood single-handed crossbow; none of the other Horsemen possessed any.
Daenerys equipped each warrior with two crossbows, one on each side of their saddle. Women, children, and elders also received one each, instantly doubling the group's combat effectiveness.
Beyond weapons, Daenerys ordered a large number of camels.
Her actions immediately drew Xaro's attention. Buying weapons could be justified as strengthening their defenses, but buying camels... that clearly signaled an intention to leave!
"Starlight, have I failed you in some way? To leave so soon?" the merchant asked, tears streaming down his face.
"You've been a most hospitable host," Daenerys replied, her own eyes reddening. "But I must return to Westeros. My people await me, and with the usurper dead, this is my best chance. Yet I can find no aid here."
"Ah, this is most sorrowful," Xaro said after a moment of weeping. Then, as if casually, he asked, "My Starlight of Heaven, do you intend to ride a camel back to White Cloud City and then return to the Great Dothraki Sea?"
"Perhaps. If you would lend me two large sea ships, I would sail immediately. Without them, I'll have to take the camel route."
Xaro pondered for a moment, dabbing his tear-streaked face with a silk handkerchief that exuded a rich perfume. "My Starlight of Heaven, you needn't be so hasty. Perhaps things will turn around."
"What turn? The royal family has explicitly refused me, and the Thirteen have been a constant disappointment. Have the Tourmaline Brotherhood or the Spice Guild reconsidered their stance?" Daenerys asked, her curiosity piqued.
"No, no, no," Xaro said, shaking his head repeatedly with a look of disdain. "They'll offer you nothing but flattery and lies. The Spice Guild is nothing but a den of hypocrites and blowhards. The Brotherhood? They're just pirates in disguise."
"Hmm, besides these factions, who else in Qarth could help me?"
"Do you remember the warlock's corpse I bought from you?" Xaro countered, avoiding her question.
Daenerys's delicate face twisted slightly. She had been keeping a close watch on Xaro's magical bird and had shared her suspicions with Jorah and the Bloodriders, tasking them with discreetly investigating Xaro's condition.
Jorah proved as capable as ever. He quickly learned about Xaro's physical state through the mansion's servants.
"The warlock who performed the witchcraft on Xaro is Euron, a minor warlock in Qarth known as the 'Nightwalker'," Jorah reported. "After the ritual, servants heard a young boy's cries and a merchant's curses coming from Xaro's room. I suspect it had some effect, but it fell far short of expectations."
Whether the witchcraft had actually improved his physical condition didn't really matter; he rarely needed it anyway.
He sneered. "All those sweet words he whispered to you were lies. He doesn't like women at all.
I've noticed his palace is filled with boys from all races, dressed in fine silk. Even Horsemen and people from the Summer Isles. They're all painted and powdered, wearing flimsy robes. By the teachings of the Seven Gods, Xaro is destined for the Seven Hells."
Snapping out of her thoughts, Daenerys carefully examined the short, stout Xaro before her. His pale, greasy face was like a freshly baked loaf of white bread, and his nose was adorned with emeralds, gold, and jewels. Combined with his colorful silk robes, he looked like a bald, plump bird with vibrant feathers.
*Never judge a book by its cover.*
"Could it be that warlock magic is exceptionally peculiar?" she asked.
Xaro remained oblivious to Daenerys's peculiar expression, primarily because his situation wasn't considered unusual in Qarth. Much like how some men wear women's clothing in modern society, everyone had grown accustomed to it. No one looked at you differently anymore.
"It works, but it must be combined with warlock potions," Xaro stated plainly.
Daenerys's teeth ached. Was this truly the potion's effect, or had witchcraft actually worked?
"So?" she asked.
"The warlocks' power is recovering. They may very well regain their former influence," Xaro said gravely.
Daenerys understood his meaning. As time passed and the warlocks grew stronger, they would naturally become one of Qarth's influential figures. If they were willing to help her...
"Perhaps the warlocks are deceiving you. Even if they're telling the truth, why should they help me?" Daenerys countered.
"We should at least try while we have the chance. Things can't get much worse," Xaro suggested. "The Warlocks' Dust Palace is extremely dangerous. We should avoid Pyat Pree, their grand warlock, for now.
I know a more worldly warlock, Nightwalker Euron. He's driven by greed. You can trust anyone who loves money, especially since I have plenty!"
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(End of Chapter)