Barely a month had passed since Meereen's walls hoisted the black-and-scarlet banner of the three-headed dragon, and the city was still adjusting to its new order and laws. Freemen busied themselves clearing rubble, some queuing for freshly issued deeds to land and houses.
The markets were beginning to echo with haggling. Goods were scarcer than before, yet the footing between buyer and seller felt—if only a fraction—more equal.
Atop the ruling Pyramid, once the palace of a now-crucified Great Master, now stood the residence of Lord Governor Arthur Dayne. He stood on the broad terrace, gazing toward an empty horizon, brow slightly furrowed.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
"Are the scouts back?" he asked without turning.
The officer behind him—an Unsullied commander—answered, "My lord, the third company has just reported. It is a Dothraki Khalasar, large—close to forty thousand, over ten thousand of them fighters. They drive many captives, Lhazarene by the look, and they ride straight for Meereen. At their pace they will reach the walls by the afternoon after tomorrow at the latest."
"Dothraki." Arthur's fingers drummed the stone balustrade. These horse-lords seldom ventured deep into Slavers Bay; their timing felt suspiciously precise.
"Do we know which Khal?"
"The scouts dared not draw close, but they saw the device: a blood-dripping arakh. From caravans we learn it is likely Ogo Kao's Khalasar."
Ogo—a Khal famed for ferocity and bloodlust, whose Khalasar bore a savage reputation on the plains.
"Keep them under close watch. Heighten the gate vigilance; rotate Unsullied onto the walls. Assign the Freemen regiments to their sectors. And—" he paused "—dispatch a courier to Valyria at once; inform His Majesty of the situation."
"Yes, my lord."
Arthur feared the Dothraki little. Meereen's walls were mended, tall and strong; within stood two thousand elite Unsullied and twenty thousand newly drilled Freemen.
Dothraki were cavalry, superb in open fields, yet siegecraft was not their strength. What worried him lay elsewhere: whose shadow lurked behind this Khalasar? The Free Cities? Westeros? A probe of the newborn Empire's strength, or a blade of horsemen to bleed it dry?
While Arthur arrayed his defenses, far away on the Valyrian Peninsula, Dragonwing Fortress—Satheryn Castle—basked in quiet ease. With Valyria still rising from its foundations, Viserys and his court lingered here, treating the fortress as a retreat.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows onto a dark-carpeted study. There, Daenerys and Rhaenys practiced High Valyrian script under Ashara's tutelage.
Daenerys frowned, tangled in knotty grammar. By rights she should have mastered this long ago; idleness had left her only half-literate.
Rhaenys wrote fluently. She had begun early and studied diligently; review was all she needed now.
Missandei sat quietly nearby, an open book across her lap, ready to answer any princess's question. In these weeks the clever Naathi girl had slipped seamlessly into their circle; her poise and learning won Daenerys's affection and Ashara's approval.
Viserys occupied the main chair, an eastern-Essos map of parchment spread before him, pondering future moves while part of his mind rode the eyes of seabirds that wheeled above the Free Bay, watching the approaches.
It was his daily vigil.
Suddenly, a faint tang of blood reached him through one of those birds. He veered along the scent and a vision flashed across his mind.
Sky-darkening dust. A swarm of riders like locusts, arakhs and whips in hand, herding haggard, ash-faced folk. Their banner: a blood-dripping arakh.
Dothraki—and a great host—riding straight for Meereen.
"Ashara." Viserys rose, voice gentle. "Watch over them; I'm riding to Meereen."
He offered no further explanation, merely nodded to Ashara—who looked up inquiringly—and to Daenerys, who sensed the shift, then strode out.
"Brother?" Daenerys called uneasily.
"A small matter. I'll return soon." Viseris glanced back with a reassuring smile.
He reached Ghidorah's platform. Lately she preferred the old volcanic crater, but today fortune favored him; she lounged upon the stone, dozing. Sensing his thought, the three-headed dragon lifted her heads. Without ceremony Viserys swung up her neck.
When he was settled the dragon loosed a low roar. Wings beat, fierce wind lifted them from the platform, and they shot skyward—a golden streak arrowing toward Meereen..
Dear Reader,
A special 60% discount offer available Don't miss this opportunity to enjoy your favorite stories at a greatly reduced price.
The offer is available for a limited time only — grab it before it ends!
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898