Valyrian steel was shrouded in mystery. Ordinary people might never encounter it in their entire lives, but anyone who had heard the legends could easily recognize a genuine Valyrian steel weapon upon seeing one, even without prior experience.
Its hardness was legendary, making it virtually indestructible. A single strike with an iron weapon would be enough to confirm its authenticity.
Krazny was no ordinary man. He didn't need to resort to such crude methods. He approached, observed the armor up close, and felt the weight and texture of Jorah's helmet. He immediately concluded: *This is the real deal!*
Although even House Targaryen possessed only two Valyrian steel swords and no armor, a group of minor Valyrian nobles had survived in Volantis. They weren't Dragon Kings, yet they owned numerous Valyrian steel weapons, including one or two sets of armor.
But Krazny was certain: the armor Jorah wore was none of those sets.
More importantly, as rare masterpieces, Valyrian steel armors were too few and too distinct for a seasoned collector like him to fail to recognize their unique characteristics.
A flash of burning greed crossed Krazny's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. He returned to his wide wooden chair by the pool and said coolly, "Give me this armor, and you can take all the eunuchs in Apostta."
"Don't even think about it! The armor—" Jorah's face flushed crimson as he roared at the slave owner, then turned to Daenerys with a pitiful gaze, his reluctance painfully obvious.
Daenerys patted his arm, a look of resignation on her face. She turned to the slave owner and said, "Besides the armor, Euron also found a dragon egg in the Governor's Mansion of Triya. A Dragon King resided there, and both the egg and the armor belonged to him. I've discovered that the egg still retains some vitality, but..."
She hesitated for a moment before sighing. "I already have three dragons. I can sell the egg to you."
"Triya? A dragon egg?" Krazny stroked his fat chin, muttering, "Triya is one of the most prosperous cities outside Valyria. It's only natural they'd assign a Dragon King as its governor. That Red Demon is truly lucky—not only did she cross the Sea of Smoke, but she also found the Dragon King's Residence. Well, perhaps it's the whore queen who is lucky."
"Slave, tell her," he snarled at the Little Translator, "a single dragon egg isn't even worth 1,000 Unsullied. I refuse to believe the Dragon King's Residence held only armor and an egg. I want more. More!"
Hearing the Little Black Girl's words, Daenerys shrugged and said, "Before I hatched my dragons, dragon eggs were merely ornaments. But now that the Magic Tide has returned, a viable egg represents a dragon."
"A True Dragon is worth only 1000 eunuch slaves? Or perhaps Lord Benevolent is simply ignorant of the Magic Tide?"
"I know," the Fat Slave Master said, his expression complicated. "Those damned Red God Priests are spreading the word everywhere, attributing it to R'hllor's awakening. Cohor recently suffered a religious rebellion. A group of Red God believers, their power surging with their newly acquired sorcery, even attempted to burn the statues of the Black Goat God—the God of Death."
"Hah, those lunatics. All they know is burn, burn, burn. I heard a Red Priestess went to Westeros and even tore down and burned the statues of the Seven Gods on Dragonstone. Slave, ask that bitch—isn't she the Princess of Dragonstone? Hahaha, her family's statues were burned!"
The mainstream faith in Cohor was the Black Goat God; the Lord of Light, R'hllor, was a minority.
"They even tore down and burned the statues of the Seven Gods?" Whitebeard showed no interest in Cohor, but his brow furrowed when he heard that the Red Priestess had abolished the faith of the Seven Gods on Dragonstone.
"Stannis has gone mad. He must have been bewitched by that Red Priestess," Jorah sighed. "He's finished, the first to be eliminated from the War of the Four Kings. Even Aegon, who possessed three dragons, had to convert to the Faith of the Seven. What chance does Stannis have?"
The Valyrians had their own faith. Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes were all names of gods, and the Targaryens had worshipped them for generations.
To integrate into Andal civilization, Aegon had paid a steep price.
*However...*
Daenerys recalled the visions she had seen in the Hall of the Undying. The Valyrian Grand Maester had revealed that the Valyrians were no longer content with ruling the mortal realm; they sought to ascend to the Divine Realm. They had sealed R'hllor and created their own gods—Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes, three Faith Spirits, three demigods.
When Valyria was destroyed in the Cataclysm, Balerion and the others must have perished with it. Aegon's conversion to a new faith was only natural. *Or perhaps...* it dealt the final blow to the dying demigods—completely severing their source of faith power.
*Wait, that's not right!*
Because the Targaryens' three dragons—Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes—had been sung about by millions in Westeros for generations, this...
She couldn't help but shake her head with a wry smile. The information she had about the gods came from the Grand Maester, and it was fragmentary and unreliable. Besides, the gods were too distant from her to be worth wasting any energy on.
But the others misinterpreted Daenerys's expression, thinking she was grieving and feeling helpless over the fate of her ancestral lands.
"Stannis is acting against heaven and earth. He will surely face retribution," Whitebeard comforted her gently. "When you rule the Seven Kingdoms, you can invite the Archbishop to Dragonstone to personally consecrate the new statues."
"Stannis might already be dead," Jorah added, trying to console her.
Daenerys rolled her eyes inwardly. *You're all overthinking this. Even if Stannis desecrated the Targaryen ancestral tombs, let alone the statues of the Seven, I wouldn't feel a thing.*
Besides, Stannis wouldn't die so soon. Aside from King Balon, who was sneaking around and striking from the shadows, there were four kings on the surface: Joffrey, the Lion-Hearted with Deer-Skin; Robb Stark, the Third-Generation Broken-Engagement Man; Stannis, the second son of House Baratheon; and Renly, the third son of House Baratheon.
Despite Two-Antlers' reckless and tyrannical behavior, one would expect him to be the first to fall. Yet, his hired help—the Red Priestess—is truly formidable. With centuries of cultivation, she could be called the number one mage in *Game of Thrones*.
By the time the Second Mad King Joffrey, the jilted groom Robb, the gay lord Renly, and even King Baratheon had all met their ends, Two-Antlers was still very much alive!
"These Westerosi keep droning on and on. Are they going to buy the Unsullied or not?" Though he had started the conversation, the Fat Slave Master cursed and urged the Little Translator, "Tell that whore queen that no matter what the Magic Tide is like, a single dragon egg is not worth a dragon—unless she helps me hatch it."
"Your Majesty, Lord Benevolent does not believe he can hatch a dragon with an egg. Or perhaps... could you help him hatch it?" the Little Black Girl asked tactfully.
"Alas, the price of hatching a dragon is too high. I cannot bear it," Daenerys said, shaking her head bitterly.
"Master, hatching a dragon requires a great sacrifice. The Queen of Westeros seems very sad; she is unwilling to hatch a dragon for you."
The Fat Slave Master's interest was piqued. He grinned, his large mouth open, and asked, "Ask her, how are dragons hatched? What price did that whore pay?"
"I'm not entirely sure myself," Daenerys said, her expression deepening with grief. "A witch-woman from Asshai told me that life must be traded for life. The birth of each dragon represents the death of one of my closest kin, their lives used to bring back the departed dragon souls from the Realm of Death. So, my dragons are my kin, children I can never abandon."
"Life for life?" Krazny murmured. "That sounds familiar. It seems to be the doctrine of R'hllor, the Lord of Shadows."
Daenerys continued, "The witch-woman's words seemed to make a lot of sense. Everyone believes my black dragon is the reincarnation of Balerion, reborn from the Realm of the Undead!"
"Is it truly that similar?" Krazny asked, his voice laced with doubt.
"If you don't believe me, you can ask my subordinates."
It was indeed remarkably similar. Jorah had said more than once, "Black Diamond might be Balerion's reincarnation." Later, after Whitebeard witnessed the great black dragon hunting a whale, he had exclaimed, "It *is* Balerion."
After receiving a consistent confirmation from Jorah and the others, the slave owner pondered for a moment before asking, "Was that witch-woman a follower of the demon in the shadows—Rahlo of the Shadows?"
"The witch-woman Mirri does indeed seem to be able to command shadow demons," Daenerys nodded.
"So it is Him. R'hllor has two faces—light brings shadow, which is why the King of Light, R'hllor, is also called the 'God of Shadow and Flame,'" the fat slave owner said, stroking his chubby chin thoughtfully. "So a shadow priest can help hatch dragons... I never knew before..."
His voice grew lower and lower, but his eyes shone brighter, as if he had reached a decision.
"Tell the Little Queen," Fatty said to the Little Translator with a wave of his hand and a toothy grin, "that if she can prove the dragon egg is real, I am willing to persuade the other Good Lords to trade 3,000 Unsullied—at a sky-high price—for it."
"I heard Apostta has over eight thousand Unsullied? All their wealth plus the dragon egg only exchanged for 7,100. If I tell the Lord Benevolent about a safe route to the Valyrian Ruins, I wonder if I can exchange it for the remaining eunuchs in the city?" Daenerys asked.
"Are you sure it's a safe route?" the fat slave merchant asked skeptically.
"I'm not sure," Daenerys shook her head. "Since I knew Euron had successfully explored Triya, I naturally wanted to try my luck. I offered to set him free in exchange for a sea chart."
"I see!" Krazny said to the Little Translator with a smile. "I didn't expect that little bitch to be so clever. But she's still not clever enough. The sea chart could be a fake. It would be better to have the Red Demon herself guide the way."
The Little Black Girl had just opened her mouth to translate his words when the fat slave owner suddenly roared, "Fool! Shut your mouth, you brainless sheep! No matter how much treasure and arcane knowledge the ruins of Valyria hold, the more people we share it with, the less I will feel there is. Tell that bitch that I will convene all the Good Lords tomorrow to discuss this matter. If the Red Demon herself can prove the route is real, then I will agree to her deal."
(PS: At this time, Westeros is embroiled in the War of the Five Kings. However, Balon may have learned from his disastrous defeat ten years ago and has been proceeding cautiously in the early stages, only secretly plotting for the fringes of the North, not daring to move south. The Lannisters, Highgarden, and Oldtown in the south are the real prizes.
Joffrey nominally bears the name 'Baratheon', but he is actually a Lannister. The Baratheon sigil is a stag, the Lannister's is a lion, and the Stark's is a wolf.)
**Chapter 92: The Deal Struck**
Valyrian steel was shrouded in mystery. Ordinary people might never encounter it in their entire lives, but anyone who had heard the legends could easily recognize a genuine Valyrian steel weapon upon seeing one, even without prior experience.
Its hardness was legendary, making it virtually indestructible. A single strike with an iron weapon would be enough to confirm its authenticity.
Krazny was no ordinary man. He didn't need to resort to such crude methods. He approached, observed the armor up close, and felt the weight and texture of Jorah's helmet. He immediately concluded: *This is the real deal!*
Although even House Targaryen possessed only two Valyrian steel swords and no armor, a group of minor Valyrian nobles had survived in Volantis. They weren't Dragon Kings, yet they owned numerous Valyrian steel weapons, including one or two sets of armor.
But Krazny was certain: the armor Jorah wore was none of those sets.
More importantly, as rare masterpieces, Valyrian steel armors were too few and too distinct for a seasoned collector like him to fail to recognize their unique characteristics.
A flash of burning greed crossed Krazny's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. He returned to his wide wooden chair by the pool and said coolly, "Give me this armor, and you can take all the eunuchs in Apostta."
"Don't even think about it! The armor—" Jorah's face flushed crimson as he roared at the slave owner, then turned to Daenerys with a pitiful gaze, his reluctance painfully obvious.
Daenerys patted his arm, a look of resignation on her face. She turned to the slave owner and said, "Besides the armor, Euron also found a dragon egg in the Governor's Mansion of Triya. A Dragon King resided there, and both the egg and the armor belonged to him. I've discovered that the egg still retains some vitality, but..."
She hesitated for a moment before sighing. "I already have three dragons. I can sell the egg to you."
"Triya? A dragon egg?" Krazny stroked his fat chin, muttering, "Triya is one of the most prosperous cities outside Valyria. It's only natural they'd assign a Dragon King as its governor. That Red Demon is truly lucky—not only did she cross the Sea of Smoke, but she also found the Dragon King's Residence. Well, perhaps it's the whore queen who is lucky."
"Slave, tell her," he snarled at the Little Translator, "a single dragon egg isn't even worth 1,000 Unsullied. I refuse to believe the Dragon King's Residence held only armor and an egg. I want more. More!"
Hearing the Little Black Girl's words, Daenerys shrugged and said, "Before I hatched my dragons, dragon eggs were merely ornaments. But now that the Magic Tide has returned, a viable egg represents a dragon."
"A True Dragon is worth only 1000 eunuch slaves? Or perhaps Lord Benevolent is simply ignorant of the Magic Tide?"
"I know," the Fat Slave Master said, his expression complicated. "Those damned Red God Priests are spreading the word everywhere, attributing it to R'hllor's awakening. Cohor recently suffered a religious rebellion. A group of Red God believers, their power surging with their newly acquired sorcery, even attempted to burn the statues of the Black Goat God—the God of Death."
"Hah, those lunatics. All they know is burn, burn, burn. I heard a Red Priestess went to Westeros and even tore down and burned the statues of the Seven Gods on Dragonstone. Slave, ask that bitch—isn't she the Princess of Dragonstone? Hahaha, her family's statues were burned!"
The mainstream faith in Cohor was the Black Goat God; the Lord of Light, R'hllor, was a minority.
"They even tore down and burned the statues of the Seven Gods?" Whitebeard showed no interest in Cohor, but his brow furrowed when he heard that the Red Priestess had abolished the faith of the Seven Gods on Dragonstone.
"Stannis has gone mad. He must have been bewitched by that Red Priestess," Jorah sighed. "He's finished, the first to be eliminated from the War of the Four Kings. Even Aegon, who possessed three dragons, had to convert to the Faith of the Seven. What chance does Stannis have?"
The Valyrians had their own faith. Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes were all names of gods, and the Targaryens had worshipped them for generations.
To integrate into Andal civilization, Aegon had paid a steep price.
*However...*
Daenerys recalled the visions she had seen in the Hall of the Undying. The Valyrian Grand Maester had revealed that the Valyrians were no longer content with ruling the mortal realm; they sought to ascend to the Divine Realm. They had sealed R'hllor and created their own gods—Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes, three Faith Spirits, three demigods.
When Valyria was destroyed in the Cataclysm, Balerion and the others must have perished with it. Aegon's conversion to a new faith was only natural. *Or perhaps...* it dealt the final blow to the dying demigods—completely severing their source of faith power.
*Wait, that's not right!*
Because the Targaryens' three dragons—Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes—had been sung about by millions in Westeros for generations, this...
She couldn't help but shake her head with a wry smile. The information she had about the gods came from the Grand Maester, and it was fragmentary and unreliable. Besides, the gods were too distant from her to be worth wasting any energy on.
But the others misinterpreted Daenerys's expression, thinking she was grieving and feeling helpless over the fate of her ancestral lands.
"Stannis is acting against heaven and earth. He will surely face retribution," Whitebeard comforted her gently. "When you rule the Seven Kingdoms, you can invite the Archbishop to Dragonstone to personally consecrate the new statues."
"Stannis might already be dead," Jorah added, trying to console her.
Daenerys rolled her eyes inwardly. *You're all overthinking this. Even if Stannis desecrated the Targaryen ancestral tombs, let alone the statues of the Seven, I wouldn't feel a thing.*
Besides, Stannis wouldn't die so soon. Aside from King Balon, who was sneaking around and striking from the shadows, there were four kings on the surface: Joffrey, the Lion-Hearted with Deer-Skin; Robb Stark, the Third-Generation Broken-Engagement Man; Stannis, the second son of House Baratheon; and Renly, the third son of House Baratheon.
Despite Two-Antlers' reckless and tyrannical behavior, one would expect him to be the first to fall. Yet, his hired help—the Red Priestess—is truly formidable. With centuries of cultivation, she could be called the number one mage in *Game of Thrones*.
By the time the Second Mad King Joffrey, the jilted groom Robb, the gay lord Renly, and even King Baratheon had all met their ends, Two-Antlers was still very much alive!
"These Westerosi keep droning on and on. Are they going to buy the Unsullied or not?" Though he had started the conversation, the Fat Slave Master cursed and urged the Little Translator, "Tell that whore queen that no matter what the Magic Tide is like, a single dragon egg is not worth a dragon—unless she helps me hatch it."
"Your Majesty, Lord Benevolent does not believe he can hatch a dragon with an egg. Or perhaps... could you help him hatch it?" the Little Black Girl asked tactfully.
"Alas, the price of hatching a dragon is too high. I cannot bear it," Daenerys said, shaking her head bitterly.
"Master, hatching a dragon requires a great sacrifice. The Queen of Westeros seems very sad; she is unwilling to hatch a dragon for you."
The Fat Slave Master's interest was piqued. He grinned, his large mouth open, and asked, "Ask her, how are dragons hatched? What price did that whore pay?"
"I'm not entirely sure myself," Daenerys said, her expression deepening with grief. "A witch-woman from Asshai told me that life must be traded for life. The birth of each dragon represents the death of one of my closest kin, their lives used to bring back the departed dragon souls from the Realm of Death. So, my dragons are my kin, children I can never abandon."
"Life for life?" Krazny murmured. "That sounds familiar. It seems to be the doctrine of R'hllor, the Lord of Shadows."
Daenerys continued, "The witch-woman's words seemed to make a lot of sense. Everyone believes my black dragon is the reincarnation of Balerion, reborn from the Realm of the Undead!"
"Is it truly that similar?" Krazny asked, his voice laced with doubt.
"If you don't believe me, you can ask my subordinates."
It was indeed remarkably similar. Jorah had said more than once, "Black Diamond might be Balerion's reincarnation." Later, after Whitebeard witnessed the great black dragon hunting a whale, he had exclaimed, "It *is* Balerion."
After receiving a consistent confirmation from Jorah and the others, the slave owner pondered for a moment before asking, "Was that witch-woman a follower of the demon in the shadows—Rahlo of the Shadows?"
"The witch-woman Mirri does indeed seem to be able to command shadow demons," Daenerys nodded.
"So it is Him. R'hllor has two faces—light brings shadow, which is why the King of Light, R'hllor, is also called the 'God of Shadow and Flame,'" the fat slave owner said, stroking his chubby chin thoughtfully. "So a shadow priest can help hatch dragons... I never knew before..."
His voice grew lower and lower, but his eyes shone brighter, as if he had reached a decision.
"Tell the Little Queen," Fatty said to the Little Translator with a wave of his hand and a toothy grin, "that if she can prove the dragon egg is real, I am willing to persuade the other Good Lords to trade 3,000 Unsullied—at a sky-high price—for it."
"I heard Apostta has over eight thousand Unsullied? All their wealth plus the dragon egg only exchanged for 7,100. If I tell the Lord Benevolent about a safe route to the Valyrian Ruins, I wonder if I can exchange it for the remaining eunuchs in the city?" Daenerys asked.
"Are you sure it's a safe route?" the fat slave merchant asked skeptically.
"I'm not sure," Daenerys shook her head. "Since I knew Euron had successfully explored Triya, I naturally wanted to try my luck. I offered to set him free in exchange for a sea chart."
"I see!" Krazny said to the Little Translator with a smile. "I didn't expect that little bitch to be so clever. But she's still not clever enough. The sea chart could be a fake. It would be better to have the Red Demon herself guide the way."
The Little Black Girl had just opened her mouth to translate his words when the fat slave owner suddenly roared, "Fool! Shut your mouth, you brainless sheep! No matter how much treasure and arcane knowledge the ruins of Valyria hold, the more people we share it with, the less I will feel there is. Tell that bitch that I will convene all the Good Lords tomorrow to discuss this matter. If the Red Demon herself can prove the route is real, then I will agree to her deal."
(PS: At this time, Westeros is embroiled in the War of the Five Kings. However, Balon may have learned from his disastrous defeat ten years ago and has been proceeding cautiously in the early stages, only secretly plotting for the fringes of the North, not daring to move south. The Lannisters, Highgarden, and Oldtown in the south are the real prizes.
Joffrey nominally bears the name 'Baratheon', but he is actually a Lannister. The Baratheon sigil is a stag, the Lannister's is a lion, and the Stark's is a wolf.)
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)