Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

The old Qugosnai man continued boasting about the legendary deeds of his ancestor, Jahata, who had annihilated the Kingdom of the Gigantic Giants of Jegowen.

Dany was utterly stunned. "You even wiped out a kingdom of giants? That's just defying the heavens!"

Especially when the zebra man described that the Jegowen giants were seven to eight meters tall.

"I've heard from maesters that there might be giants beyond the Wall in the far North, but they're no taller than four meters," Jorah added, clearly shaken.

"Those are snow giants. Jegowen giants were stone giants," the old man explained. "It's like the difference between you and me. Both human, but of different races. And you're almost half a body taller than I am."

The old Qugosnai man's words were so full of wisdom that both Jorah and Dany were convinced.

When Dany, speaking with admiration, asked if they had captured any giant prisoners, the elder replied, "There were only three, and they couldn't reproduce. Even if they had surrendered, they would've long since died of old age after a thousand years."

Three? Three? Three?

Sir, did you just claim you destroyed the entire Kingdom of Jegowen giants?

Dany's expression at that moment must have been priceless.

After a few more tales of exceptional Jahata heroes, Dany felt she had a good grasp of the zebra people's societal structure. She decided to ask about their religious beliefs.

"We worship the Church of the Moon Singers," the elder said, shocking her with his first sentence.

The Moon Singers were known as the Song of the Moon, the very sect Mirri Maz Duur had studied to learn her birthing chants.

Even more importantly, Dany knew that the Moon Singers held a significant position in Westeros.

"I've heard that the founding of Braavos was foretold by the Moon Singers," she remarked.

"That's correct. When the Valyrian Freehold ruled the world, countless races were enslaved. The Qugosnai Plains were within the Dragonlords' domain, and the Dragonlords were far more terrifying than any emperor from the East—they had dragons," he said, casting a wary glance at the three dragons perched near Dany's table.

"Sigh, slavery is a terrible thing. Under the Seven, we should all be equal," Dany said, casually portraying herself as a devout follower of the Seven.

The old Qugosnai man neither agreed nor disagreed, but his expression softened noticeably.

"The Valyrians were utterly insane. They insisted on mining beneath the 14 Flames—active volcanoes spewing smoke and molten lava. Every slave sent into those mines didn't survive a month.

As a result, slave ships sailed endlessly to Valyria from all over the world, like fish streaming upstream.

About 800 years ago, a rebellion broke out on a fleet of slave ships in the Summer Sea. The slaves successfully revolted but were left even more desperate, knowing they could never escape the sight of the dragons.

Fortunately, one ship carried a group of Qugosnai women—Moon Singers from the Qugosnai Plains.

Through prophecy, they found a place that could serve as a refuge for the slaves: behind mist-shrouded pine-covered hills and coastal reefs lay a lagoon. The constant fog would shield them from the Dragonlords' aerial gaze.

The fleet rerouted north, sailing towards the extreme northwest of Essos. That place became Braavos.

The Moon Singers' prophecy came true, and in gratitude, the people of Braavos built them the grandest temple to honor their contribution."

"I see. The Moon Singers truly earned that temple. I've visited Braavos before," Dany replied casually, though her thoughts shifted to another matter. "Do you happen to know what the Valyrians were mining in those volcanoes?"

"Red gold, gold, silver, and other minerals. The Valyrians' greed knew no bounds. In the end, they dug their way into hell itself. It was poetic justice—hellfire and poisonous fumes destroyed all of Valyria."

Dany was a bit disappointed. She'd hoped it was some magical material but found out it was just gold.

She abandoned her idle fantasies and returned to the topic. "What role do the Moon Singers play in your tribes?"

"They handle prayer, healing, judgment—everything not related to battle. Thanks to the Moon Singers, we avoid wars among different clans," the elder explained.

Hmm, this is worth noting, Dany thought.

"Sigh, we Dothraki could learn a thing or two from your ancestors," she said to the zebra man.

A listener of Dany's noble status, skilled at praising and encouraging, was rare. The old zebra man had never encountered such an audience in his lifetime. He talked tirelessly until the moon hung low in the sky and most of the night had passed, finally stopping with a contented smirk.

The next morning, Dany had Aggo present the elder with a chestnut foal as a return gift.

The foal, born in Whitecloud City, was only two months old but had managed to survive the arduous journey across the Red Waste. Its resilience was proof of its exceptional quality.

Over the next few days, Dany welcomed dozens of other visitors. She discovered that beyond receiving gifts, she also gained a wealth of knowledge.

The diverse peoples of the world of ice and fire, the unique craftsmanship of each city-state, the rich array of global resources, and all kinds of personalities—or, to put it bluntly, eccentric individuals.

For instance, a widow from Qarth wept as she presented Dany with the mummified corpse of her husband.

The corpse, coated in a layer of silver leaf, was said to possess immense magical power, especially since the deceased was a male sorcerer.

Rejecting a gift was far ruder than silently ridiculing it, so Dany, with a stiff smile, had the specially preserved mummy placed in her treasury.

Afterward, the wealthy merchant Xaro took her aside to a secluded spot to discuss buying the corpse.

When Dany curiously asked for his reasons, he was candid. He explained that the body of a male sorcerer held far more magical power than a dwarf's member. Through specific blood magic rituals, a sorcerer could transfer that power to other places.

"For example," he said bluntly, "my own... needs some enhancement."

The plump merchant spoke sorrowfully about his journey. Starting as a penniless errand boy, he had climbed to his current status as one of the Thirteen. But his success came at a great price—his health, strength, and youthful appearance.

"When I had no money, I drooled over lavish feasts but couldn't afford them. Now that I have money, my teeth can't chew them," he lamented. His tone turned mournful as he admitted that his vitality, specifically that part of him, needed magical reinforcement.

"This could benefit you too," he added slyly, seeing Dany's hesitant expression. "You know I've always adored you. Marrying me is the best choice for you. With a healthy body, it would make the 'best' choice the best of the best."

Oh, now she understood—he wasn't just making sly expressions; he was outright flirting! Dany felt a surge of disgust.

"I'm not interested in the sorcerer's body," she said carefully. "But what about the poor widow? That was her husband, after all. What if she regrets it or misses him and comes back for the... uh, corpse? What should I do then?"

"She won't," Xaro dismissed with a shake of his smooth, egg-like head. "A gift given is like spilled water—you can't take it back! Besides, you're the great Mother of Dragons, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the most honored guest of Qarth, and, of course, the woman I adore. Why worry about an ordinary widow?"

"I don't like to use my status to intimidate others," Dany replied coolly.

This man must think I'm easily fooled, she thought bitterly.

"Then just tell her the truth," Xaro suggested shamelessly. "Say, 'I love you, I want to marry you, and I need your husband's magical energy to fix my... problem.' She should feel honored to help you—it's probably why she gifted you the body in the first place!"

His brazenness was astounding.

Helping him fix that would somehow benefit her?

Dany wanted to slap him. No, a single slap wouldn't suffice—she wanted to kick him ten more times and have Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion incinerate him into ash.

"How much are you offering?" she asked.

Xaro, adopting an "we're all friends here" expression, replied, "Market price is about 200 gold honors, but I'll offer you 100. Fair?"

"Friends shouldn't talk about money," Dany said with a pause. Xaro's face lit up with hope, but she added, "Let our steward negotiate."

She discreetly instructed Jorah to fleece him for as much as possible.

Ever since she had rejected Xaro's overt and subtle marriage proposals, the once-abundant fried peacock tongues at her table had vanished.

At first, she had merely tolerated the dish, but over time, she had grown to appreciate it, eventually even craving it. Just as her taste for the delicacy was fully cultivated, Xaro had cut off her supply. With her current finances, Dany couldn't afford such extravagance on her own.

It wasn't just the food—her servants had dwindled too.

The number of beautiful maidens who once danced and sang for her at meals had shrunk from 24 to just 4.

To win over a woman who had never experienced luxury was, in fact, simple. Shower her with wealth, let her live like a princess for a while, and make her realize that only by staying with him could such a life continue.

This was why domineering tycoons were so popular. Their domineering attitude didn't matter; what mattered was their wealth.

Undoubtedly, Xaro was one such tycoon. He didn't truly love her but wanted her dragons.

Jorah had warned her about a peculiar Qartheen marriage custom: on the wedding day, the bride could request a gift from her groom as a token of love, and the groom was obliged to grant it, no matter what. However, the groom could also request a gift in return, which the bride could not refuse.

"Xaro will undoubtedly ask for your dragons," Jorah said with a sneer. "Even a single dragon would elevate him to unmatched power, making him the sole ruler of this city."

A few days later, Xaro excitedly approached her, holding a pair of blue, braided slippers.

"Guess what this is?" he asked gleefully.

"Slippers," Dany replied, puzzled.

"Your persimmons have been accepted by the Opener of the Door! The last gate to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones is now open to you." He waved the slippers proudly. "This is the royal family's way of inviting you—a Qartheen tradition! Tomorrow, you'll wear these to meet the royals!"

The Temple of Memory represented the religious authority of Qarth, the Register Keepers were its administrators, and the Door Openers served as the stewards of the palace.

Though she had indeed sent persimmons, five thousand golden honors had also been discreetly delivered to the steward's estate.

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09