Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: The Rights of a Guest



Zaro, one of the Thirteen of Qarth, truly lived up to his reputation. The mansion he had prepared for her left even the well-traveled Daenerys in awe.

A vast garden blooming with exotic flowers, a sprawling marble bathing pool, a towering crystal observatory—essentially an astrological tower—and even a garden maze.

The entire palace was larger than the market they had visited earlier. Not only could it accommodate the 200-strong khalasar, but it could house twice as many with ease.

In fact, Zaro had provided 200 servants just for her use.

Once the khalasar was settled in the palace, Daenerys reclined by the pool, enjoying the sensation of fish nibbling at her toes. She marveled at the Qartheen's ingenuity, even having fish for this peculiar kind of enjoyment.

Suddenly, the sky darkened overhead. Startled, she turned to find Quaithe silently standing beside her.

"You…"

"I must leave," Quaithe said.

"Oh. Farewell," Daenerys replied, startled but relieved it was nothing serious.

"Be careful!" Quaithe said abruptly, without context.

"Uh…" Daenerys hesitated before asking, "Careful of what?"

"Careful of everyone. From now on, they will come to you day and night, seeking an audience with this miracle reborn into the world. Their greed will soon follow, for the flesh and blood of dragons are made of fire, and fire is power. Dragons are the source of all mystical forces."

Although Quaithe's red lacquered mask concealed her expression, the solemnity in her tone was unmistakable.

After delivering her warning, Quaithe disappeared as quietly as she had arrived, leaving Daenerys uneasy.

The allure of palace luxury now dulled, Daenerys summoned Jorah and her bloodriders to the poolside. While they experienced the gentle kisses of the fish, she recounted Quaithe's warning.

"I don't like her," Jorah began. "She's unreadable. All shadowbinders warrant caution, but she didn't threaten us this time. Since we entered this city, I've sensed an unwelcoming air—a subtle hostility that's hard to ignore."

"I don't like how the milkmen look at us," Rakharo said, his face heavy with disdain. "Like they're watching rare animals captured from the wild."

The Qartheen, with their unnaturally pale, milky-white skin, were referred to by the Dothraki as milkmen.

Daenerys glanced at Rakharo, surprised by his sharp perception.

He wasn't wrong. The Qartheen had indeed welcomed them warmly today, but there were different kinds of welcomes. Inviting honored guests was not the same as hosting a rare panda in a city zoo.

This was why, as Daenerys walked through the streets of Qarth earlier, she couldn't help but envision herself as Arthas.

In Lordaeron, the bells of victory, cheers of the masses, and flower petals showered down to celebrate Arthas's triumphant return—only for him to unleash the Scourge that same day and massacre the city.

"They want to see the dragons," Daenerys said, turning to Rakharo. "Arrange two layers of guards, one visible and one hidden, to watch over the dragons. As long as we remain here, vigilance must not waver for even a moment."

"Aggo, Jhogo," she continued, "organize scouts—men and women—to map the terrain around our residence, the layout of nearby buildings, and the palace's security details."

Finally, she turned to Jorah, her tone heavy with significance. "Ser Jorah, I am well aware of our current situation. I need you to visit the markets, the docks, the taverns, even the brothels. Learn what the common people of Qarth think of us and gather intelligence about the city's elite."

She paused, considering her words carefully before adding, "This city is a hub connecting the East and West. There are bound to be Westeros and merchants from other Free Cities here. While gathering information, you can also spread word of me and my dragons."

"This…" Ser Jorah hesitated, concern evident in his expression. "You've always worried about assassins sent by the usurper. Now, openly declaring your intent to return to Westeros with dragons, even if the usurper is dead, his son still lives."

"Ah, times have changed," Daenerys sighed. "The hatching of my dragons is no longer a secret. If King's Landing has been keeping tabs on me, they'll know about it immediately. Rather than hide it, I'll make it a focal point—one that protects us while also…"

That night, Daenerys indulged in the luxurious feast that came with the grand palace, including an extravagant dish: stir-fried peacock tongues.

Mmp, using peacock tongues as an ingredient? Even the most gluttonous gourmets of ancient civilizations wouldn't have imagined this.

The next morning, just as Quaithe had warned, the real power brokers of Qarth arrived at Xaro's palace in grand processions, carried in sedan chairs and surrounded by a throng of servants.

Xaro accompanied them to Daenerys's quarters. They declared themselves captivated by her beauty and noble lineage, offering her gifts of silk, jewelry, exotic animals, and dwarves skilled in unique arts. While tearfully praising the greatness of dragons, their eyes darted eagerly, scanning every corner for the creatures.

Ah, the Qartheen did love to cry. They considered tears a hallmark of their refined civilization.

Understanding their intent, Daenerys didn't refuse. She promptly brought out one of her small dragons, tethered by a chain, which only caused the Qartheen nobles to weep even more fervently.

The power structure of Qarth consisted of three main factions: the royal family, merchants, and warlocks.

In an era where dragons had vanished and magic had faded, the once-mighty warlocks had lost their strength and, consequently, their influence. The royal family commanded Qarth's camel cavalry and city fleet, holding nominal authority over the city.

The merchants, however, wielded the real power through three dominant guilds: the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers. In a city built on trade, true authority inevitably lay with the merchants.

However, intense rivalries between the three merchant guilds kept them from gaining uncontested control. Were it not for their mutual need to keep the royal family in check, they would have long torn the city apart over their disputes.

On the first day, Daenerys was visited by the other twelve members of the Thirteen. On the second day, the Tourmaline Brotherhood arrived.

After seeing her dragons, the gem traders took an entire week to craft her a crown: a three-headed dragon with a golden, coiled body, silver wings, and heads fashioned from emerald, ivory, and onyx.

On the third day, the Ancient Guild of Spicers gifted her seventy-seven chests of rare spices from across the world.

Hmm, Daenerys thought, when House Targaryen unified the Seven Kingdoms, they abandoned the Valyrian gods to assimilate as foreign conquerors by adopting the Faith of the Seven. In theory, I should also worship the Seven.

For followers of the Seven, numbers like "seven," "seventy-seven," and "seven hundred seventy-seven" were considered auspicious.

By the fourth day, Daenerys began receiving visitors from the mid-tier and lower echelons of Qarth's power structure: minor merchants, government officials, fleet commanders, and camel cavalry captains.

When she asked Xaro if the royal family would visit her, he scoffed dismissively, saying, "The current royals have nothing left but supreme dignity and ancient glory. If you want to meet them, you'll have to make the effort yourself."

However, meeting the royal family wasn't as simple as asking for an audience. One needed "qualifications" to be summoned, and these qualifications were controlled by several influential figures.

To put it plainly, it was like a pilgrimage to retrieve sacred scriptures where bribes were necessary at every step. For Daenerys to meet the royal family, she would have to navigate a web of gatekeepers, offering the right gifts to the right people.

Even trying to take shortcuts required insider knowledge. Randomly giving gifts without understanding the channels would only waste time and resources.

Xaro, with a self-righteous air, assured her that he knew the system inside out. He offered to guide her, explaining who to approach, what to give, and how much to offer each person.

Daenerys wanted to retort, Go to hell, I don't play these games.

However, Jorah had already gathered enough intelligence over the past few days. While the royal family had indeed lost actual control over the city, they still commanded the camel cavalry and the city fleet.

Daenerys couldn't understand why the royal family, which controlled the military, had lost their ruling authority. Perhaps this was simply the nature of trade city-states? Or maybe merchants, being wealthier, could afford to hire larger armed forces, such as mercenaries?

Xaro's advice to Daenerys to use connections to secure an audience with the royal family was no secret among the upper echelons.

The royals had likely been waiting with open hands for her to throw gold into their laps. If she refused, it would be seen as disrespecting them, and disrespecting the royals meant they weren't allies.

And if we aren't allies or guests, Daenerys thought grimly, then I'm fair game for their schemes.

Jorah counseled her, "This is the custom in Qarth. Even in Westeros, visiting someone's home doesn't automatically grant guest rights.

Guest rights are only established when a guest accepts bread and salt from the host under their roof. If the host places a drawn sword across their lap, it signifies they have no intention of offering guest rights, and such protections do not apply."

"But demanding bribes outright feels so crude! Do people in the Seven Kingdoms also expect guests to give gifts to their hosts?" Daenerys retorted, frustrated.

"Cough, cough." Jorah's sudden fit of coughing and his reddening face—despite the cover of his beard—betrayed him.

"No way," Daenerys gasped, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Not as blatantly as in Qarth," Jorah quickly clarified. "In Westeros, a guest might offer the host a 'guest gift' as a gesture of gratitude for the food and shelter provided. Similarly, when the guest departs, the host might give them a parting gift.

This tradition typically occurs when the guest is in a weaker position, fearing that the host might deny them guest rights otherwise."

Daenerys recalled a detail she had overlooked in her experiences. What Jorah described was particularly evident in the dealings between the Night's Watch and Craster beyond the Wall.

Craster—the most infamous father of the North—married his own daughters, who bore him more daughters that he also wed. This cycle continued until he had dozens of wives who were both his daughters and granddaughters.

He had sons too, but every male child was offered as a sacrifice to the White Walkers immediately after birth.

It could be said that nearly all the White Walkers, except the Night King, were his offspring.

White Walkers were different from wights. The former were living beings transformed, while the latter were corpses reanimated by the White Walkers.

Without Craster's shelter and supplies, the death rate for the Night's Watch men venturing north of the Wall would likely double. Because of this dependence, the Night's Watch turned a blind eye to his incestuous practices and frequently allowed him to extort iron weapons, which he called 'guest gifts.'

Thanks to guest rights, even Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, who knew of Craster's dealings with the White Walkers, couldn't harm him.

Guest rights were a two-way bond. Just as hosts couldn't harm guests, guests couldn't harm their hosts—even if the host was collaborating with monsters.

Seeing Daenerys lost in thought, Jorah pressed her again, "The First Men honored the tradition of guest rights, and the Andals had similar customs. Perhaps guest rights are universal, with only the forms differing."

"Fine," Daenerys sighed. "I'll send gifts to the royal family and hope they return the favor with some 'guest gifts.'"

(End of Chapter)

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