Chapter 186: Whoever Gives the Milk Is My Mother
EssosPentos
"Damn it! Damn it! Still no luck!" Player Marco roared as soon as he returned to the camp. Perhaps due to spending too much time with the Dothraki, he had picked up this speaking habit. "The kos, under Drogo's orders, searched the entire city of Pentos, but still couldn't find Daenerys.
Not only Daenerys, but that player named Darren Grafson is nowhere to be found either. We brothers prepared so many traps for them, and they didn't even step into a single one! Instead, they caused such chaos in Pentos!"
"Don't worry, I found a clue." Player Folgo said this, but his expression wasn't encouraging.
Marco guessed that what he found wasn't good news either.
"I've captured a spy who used to serve Prince Hazan," Folgo began to explain. "He claims to have witnessed the Targaryen siblings being taken away in a luxurious four-horse carriage, accompanied by a group of Unsullied guards.
Although he didn't know the carriage's destination, I found another lead near the port. Many civilians saw a group of Unsullied desperately trying to save a burning inn, and the two carriages matching the spy's description were parked in front of that inn."
"You mean Daenerys and the others were burned to death in that inn?"
"I don't know, but that possibility exists," Folgo said, his expression suddenly changing. He shook his head. "No, that possibility has been ruled out."
"What are you looking at?" Marco looked bewildered, turning to gaze at the eastern horizon. Against the black curtain of the sky hung a comet scattering crimson light through thick clouds.
"That bastard not only stole Daenerys away, but he also hatched a dragon." Folgo's tone was somewhat hollow.
"So what do we do next?" Marco asked, bewildered. "Our entire plan has been disrupted, and all our previous preparations have gone to waste."
"When can you beat Drogo? Within six months?" Folgo forced himself to calm down and asked.
"What nonsense are you talking about? There are no more players to kill, the third main quest is nowhere in sight, and we can't climb the leaderboard. At our current resource acquisition rate, even beating Jaqo or Pono within six months is a stretch, let alone beating Drogo? Dream on!" Marco snapped.
Because they hadn't participated in any of the major conflicts, the resources they received were far less than those of the Anders and Poole brothers in Pentos.
"Uh..." Folgo was taken aback and speechless for a moment.
To beat Drogo using the Dothraki fighting style, they would probably need to max out all their stats except for spirit.
"By the way, why did you suddenly ask that?" Marco broke the awkward silence first. "Did you think of something?"
"If you were Darren Grafson, and you stole Daenerys and got the dragon, where would you go?" Folgo didn't answer directly, but asked instead.
"Astapor," Marco answered without hesitation. "With players' time so limited and almost no time to train troops, readily available elite soldiers like the Unsullied are definitely worth acquiring."
"And then? What would he do?" Folgo continued.
"Take Astapor? And then expand through Slaver's Bay?" This time Marco thought for a moment before speaking. This was basically the original storyline.
"Possibly, but not necessarily," Folgo shook his head. "If they had followed Daenerys through the original timeline to Astapor, the abolition of slavery and the sacking of the city might have been inevitable.
But since he took Daenerys away beforehand, he probably wouldn't choose such a radical method to seize Astapor. Such an act would completely destroy his credibility, and the abolition of slavery would offend almost the entire eastern world.
Darren is too cunning. He's manipulated all of Pentos—even Illyrio and Hazan have fallen into his hands. I don't think he'll be so crude and brutal."
"Then what will he do?" Marco asked hastily.
"If I could have guessed, we wouldn't be in this situation where he stole Daenerys and all our efforts have been in vain!" Folgo was immediately exasperated. "If possible, I really don't want to be his enemy."
"Forget it," Folgo sighed. "We'll find a way to tell Drogo that the man who cuckolded him went to Slaver's Bay. No matter what, we can't let Darren find a peaceful place to build his strength. He has a dragon—we can't let it grow up."
The Narrow SeaBreeze's Kiss
"Not eating?" Ian, Daenerys, and the others around the table exchanged bewildered glances as they watched the black dragon Ion crawling around a small piece of roasted meat.
"Perhaps we should find it other food," Daenerys frowned, "but I don't know what dragons eat."
"Perhaps... milk?" Ian suddenly remembered that in the original timeline, the first thing the three dragons did after their birth was nurse from Daenerys. It was quite strange—they were egg-laying creatures, yet they insisted on nursing.
"Milk?" Daenerys didn't understand Ian's meaning.
"Is there milk on the ship?" Ian didn't answer her but turned to ask Darren, but then he slapped his forehead. Right, how could there be?
With the preservation conditions of this era, who would keep that kind of thing on a ship for no reason?
"How could there be?" Sure enough, Darren replied strangely, but his next sentence surprised Ian. "However, there are a few dogs on this ship, and one of the bitches just had a litter. She should be producing milk."
What kind of luck is this? Ian subconsciously looked at Daenerys. Is this the legendary protagonist's luck? Even if you yourself aren't pregnant and can't produce milk, since you hatched the dragon, fate won't let it go hungry?
"Go and milk it! Hurry!" Ian quickly gave the order.
This dog had really been a lifesaver. If it weren't for her, Ian would have had to order the ship to make landfall and go ashore to find milk for the dragon.
Pentos wasn't far away—there were many villages and a dense population, so Ian wasn't worried about not finding a place, but he was afraid of running into a Dothraki raiding party, which would inevitably lead to a fierce battle.
Soon, Darren returned to the table with a small bowl of dog's milk.
Ian had subconsciously wanted Daenerys to feed it, but he suddenly remembered an old saying: Whoever feeds you is your mother.
If he personally fed Ion its first mouthful of milk, would it increase its affection for him? Or even make it see him as its parent?
Thinking this, Ian quickly snatched the wooden bowl from Daenerys's hand before she could reach out to take it, causing the girl to show a confused expression.
"Let me handle these chores, Your Grace. You are of noble birth." Ian said dismissively, then held the wooden bowl to Ion's mouth.
Sure enough, this time the little black dragon didn't ignore the food as it had before. Instead, it quickly got up, flapped its translucent wings a couple of times, and buried its head in the bowl to drink.
"It drank! This is exactly what it needs!" The girl, seeing this, instantly forgot her frustration at having her feeding opportunity stolen and exclaimed happily.
In no time, the black dragon finished the milk in the bowl. It pulled its head back out, crawled forward a couple of steps, and stared longingly at Ian.
"It's not full," Daenerys said quickly.
"I can tell," Ian nodded. "Is there more?" he asked Darren.
"If you want to milk her, of course you can, but those puppies..." Darren said, but Ian glared at him, so he quickly changed his tune. "This dog produces plenty of milk. No problem at all."
What are those puppies? Are they more important than a dragon? Don't bring this up in front of Daenerys, lest she get all sentimental. That's what Darren read in Ian's eyes just now.
Spending so much time with Ian, he felt he was developing that skill too.
(End of Chapter)
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