"Sss-kkk!"
The dragons feasted with glee. Only Drogo found them adorable—everyone else thought their screeches unbearable and their appearance terrifying.
The fish on the ships seemed to disagree with the dragons' stomachs, so they turned their attention to the shops along the riverbank.
"Boom! Boom!"
Upon spotting more desirable food, the dragons unleashed torrents of fire, then dove in with their claws, tearing through rubble to enjoy their meal.
They were on track to burn down the entire riverside district—perhaps even all of Volantis. Who would dare stand in their way?
The Volantene spearmen, adorned in steel-clawed gauntlets, elephant-helmed masks, and green-striped tattoos, looked menacing—but they were cowed like the beggars they bullied daily. None dared approach the dragons. Instead, they stood at a safe distance, ready to flee at any moment.
Drogo watched them and scoffed. Those neatly armored elephant soldiers, who had proudly stood on either side of the riverbank just moments ago, had clearly been placed there by the Triarchs to suggest that proud Volantis could hold its own against him.
As he advanced, Drogo felt like he was inspecting troops. But under the dragons' shadow, the legions that once made the Valyrian Freehold tremble seemed pathetic—no more than chickens and dogs.
Old Dofas and Naesiso, both visibly terrified, pleaded desperately:
"Drogo Kao, Father of Dragons, please… call off your children!"
The dragons, thanks to recent training, understood many more commands than before. But getting them to stop eating? That was something even Drogo couldn't do. Feeding was instinct—one that no amount of discipline could override.
He couldn't stop them, but he wasn't about to show weakness either. With a half-smile, he replied,
"If I recall, you two promised that my entire army would enjoy your grand feast. My dragons are my mightiest warriors—you wouldn't dare go back on your word, would you?"
"Hmph!"
That comment didn't sit well with Roman, the mountain-like giant. He glared at the feasting dragons, his eyes burning with challenge.
Suppressing his anger, Dofas said darkly,
"But Kao, their appetite is too great. I fear all of Volantis might end up as their meal."
Drogo could tell this old man knew a thing or two about dragons. He was right—their stomachs were bottomless.
Still, the two Triarchs knew how to bow and bend like true lords. Drogo decided to give them a way out.
With a sly grin, he offered:
"Well then, perhaps you might try stopping them yourselves. A volley of well-placed arrows might scare them off."
That grin, that tone—it was wicked. But not a bad suggestion. Of course, the dragons were princes. Naesiso hesitated:
"And if by chance the dragons are harmed… would we have offended you?"
Drogo nodded coolly.
"No matter. Those unruly children need some discipline anyway."
With his knowledge of this world—and his past life—Drogo knew that only the scorpions of King's Landing, the Night King, or the sea-witch Nagga had any real chance of killing a dragon. Everyone else, with their primitive weapons, didn't stand a chance.
If he was going to intimidate, he would do it thoroughly. Let Volantis understand: an army with dragons is utterly unstoppable.
That was all Dofas needed. His mind had long flirted with the idea of dragon-slaying. Now, he saw an opportunity.
The old man bellowed,
"Whoever drives off the dragons shall be named an Iron Elephant Guard! You'll receive one hundred Yunkai slave girls and ten thousand Valyrian gold coins!"
The Iron Elephant Guard was akin to the Kingsguard of King's Landing or the Bloodriders of the Dothraki—a personal bodyguard to the ruler, with the potential to join the small council if they proved capable.
Dofas hadn't said "kill the dragons," but arrows have no eyes. Everyone knew what he meant. If chasing off a dragon could launch you to power and riches, who wouldn't try?
Greed eclipsed fear. At least one in every ten elephant soldiers loaded their crossbows and charged toward the dragons.
Once they reached ideal firing distance, they took aim and pulled the triggers.
"Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!"
A thousand bolts whistled through the air—swift and fierce. But the moment they struck dragonhide, they slid off like raindrops. The mighty beasts didn't even flinch.
But when their bellies were full and the idiot soldiers kept pressing their triggers, the dragons grew angry. Ignoring the arrow storm, they turned and lunged at the fools who had dared provoke them.
"Aaaaah! Aaaaah!"
The dying cries of the would-be dragon slayers were all alike—just a repetitive "Aaaah!"
Legend had it that a dragon's scales were as hard as iron, and only grew stronger with age. This botched, ridiculous attempt to slay them convinced the Triarchs that the legends were true. Deep in their hearts, they felt powerless.
Overwhelming strength had once again triumphed over politics, gold, and even beauty. Dofas and Naesiso realized that inviting the braided warrior into their city—and feeding and entertaining his men—wasn't such a bad deal after all. They'd bought themselves a future.
The area had become a sea of fire. Drogo had no intention of lingering. The dragons had eaten their fill—now it was his turn.
"Let's go. I want to see more of this 'greatest of the Free Cities.'"
Without waiting for a reply, he spurred his horse forward.
Snapping out of their daze, Dofas and Naesiso shouted in unison:
"Put out the fires! Don't let the flames spread!"
Then they rushed ahead to resume their role as guides.
"Sss-kkk!"
Realizing their father was leaving, the dragons abandoned the last of the elephant soldiers and flapped their wings to catch up.
Feeling the sudden wind at their backs, Dofas and Naesiso winced as though they'd swallowed dung. Stopping the carnage had been so simple—just let Drogo move on and the dragons would follow.
Now they realized the truth: Drogo had been mocking them all along—letting his "children" stretch their wings and settle their stomachs.
As they passed beyond the riverside, Drogo's nose wrinkled. The deeper they entered the "greatest Free City," the worse the stench became.
Before Drogo could complain, Argo blurted out,
"Gods! The First Daughter of Valyria—why does she stink so bad? The farther we go, the worse it gets!"
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🐉 Dragon King of Ice and Fire
📢 Fire and Blood! 📢
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