Unlike modern people who stay up late past midnight, the horsefolk sleep after dusk and wake before the first light of dawn. By the time Daenerys rose, dressed, and stepped out of her tent, Drogo's khalasar was already boiling with activity.
Women shouted at children, warriors barked orders as they pulled down tents, and horses stamped and neighed.
Gray-black smoke, steam rising from iron pots, blurred Dany's vision. Horse meat churned in hot water, fresh warm horse dung lay outside the tents, and crushed green grass snapped beneath hooves—together forming a strange yet vibrantly living smell.
Judging by the yolk-red sun just peeking over the horizon, Dany guessed it was no later than five in the morning. Uh… though she wasn't even sure if that guess was right, since she couldn't tell what season it was here.
In the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, there were no fixed four seasons. House Stark's words—Winter is Coming—were no joke, but the sternest warning.
Here, a single season could last for years on end. If a cold, barren winter dragged on too long, people would die of hunger even if they didn't freeze to death.
Each time a "Long Winter" came, half the people of the North in Westeros would die. If luck was even worse and the "Long Night" descended, it wouldn't be strange for ninety percent of the continent's population to perish.
Breakfast was mutton soup—barley, onions, carrots, turnips, and lamb, seasoned with pepper, saffron, and other spices, simmered for over an hour. Long before Dany woke, her handmaids had already begun cooking.
Using a red copper bowl as big as a cafeteria lunchbox, Dany ate a full bowl. When she finished, even she was surprised at a pregnant woman's appetite.
Or was it because she had awakened the Mother of Dragons physique, because of the soul resonance with the black dragon in last night's dream?
She wasn't sure whether her body had grown stronger, but when she woke that morning she felt refreshed, full of energy from head to toe.
Riding behind Drogo's black stallion, Daenerys lowered her head to look at the black dragon egg cradled in her arms, lost in thought.
Less than half an hour after breakfast, bathed in golden-red morning light, the enormous khalasar began to move forward like a dark cloud. Behind it, it left chaos everywhere, like smearing a brown stain across a green curtain.
Where the khal's horse hooves pointed—that was the direction the khalasar advanced.
Drogo seemed even more sluggish than yesterday. When he rose that morning, he hadn't even recognized Dany. He barely touched the mutton porridge, drank little mare's milk, and his once broad, solid body had visibly shriveled, almost collapsing were it not for the bare bones supporting it.
By noon, lush green grassland and farm wheat fields grew scarce, eventually disappearing altogether. In their place came low hills and yellow-brown gravelly ground.
The merciless blazing sun was like a suddenly rich parvenu, wantonly scattering light and heat.
The ground ahead formed shimmering distortions in the air. Sweat flowed like thin little streams, slowly sliding down from Dany's chest.
Between heaven and earth, the only sounds left were the steady clop of hooves, the rhythmic chime of bells in Drogo's hair, and the low murmurs of conversation behind them.
With his mind clouded, Drogo lost his sense of direction, straying from the Lhazareen river basin and gradually pushing deeper into the southern Red Waste.
Yet where the khal's horse head turned was the path the horsefolk would take.
The horsefolk ate only breakfast and supper. If they were hungry at noon, they gnawed on dried meat atop their horses.
The reddish-brown dried horse meat was light and thin, each muscle fiber clearly visible—completely natural, the kind of food you couldn't buy even with money in a past life. Yet it was so hard it nearly cut Dany's mouth.
She had no choice but to take a mouthful of mare's milk, puff out her cheeks, and let the meat soak until it softened. In the end, she even tasted a strange sweetness.
"Da-da-da."
Hoofbeats drew closer from afar. Dany looked up to see Aggo's warhorse kicking up a thin line of red-brown dust as he galloped in from the distance to Drogo's side.
"Khal. Khaleesi—there is nothing ahead but desolation. No people, no danger, but… the direction seems wrong." After hesitating and glancing at Drogo, Aggo reported to Dany.
The khalasar did not blindly rush forward behind the khal. At every moment, scouts scattered in all directions—both to survey the surroundings and to prevent surprise attacks from other khalasars.
Daenerys rode up beside Drogo, just about to remind him to change course, when suddenly her pupils shrank sharply. She tugged the reins, urging her little silver horse to prance in place and turn once around. In that brief moment, Dany swept her gaze across the surroundings: the horsefolk were trudging through a dark red Gobi-like wasteland.
An idea immediately formed in her mind.
"Don't ask anything. Keep moving. Mm—go ahead and find a place suitable for setting up camp."
After Aggo left, Daenerys looked at Khal Drogo beside her with worry. Their conversation had not been quiet, yet he showed no reaction at all.
Swarms of bloodflies slowly circled Drogo, their buzzing wings echoing at the edge of Dany's hearing.
Bloodflies were as large as bees, heavy-bodied, tinged with purple, emitting a wet, nauseating sheen. They lived in swamps and stagnant pools, feeding on the blood of humans and horses, laying eggs in corpses or in people and animals on the brink of death.
Drogo had once hated them intensely. Whenever a fly came near, he would strike like lightning, catching it without fail. Then he would close his giant hand around it, letting it buzz madly inside, before squeezing tight. When he opened his hand again, the fly would be nothing but a red smear in his palm.
Now, a bloodfly crawled over the hindquarters of his mount. The stallion angrily lashed its tail, trying to drive it away. Other flies circled closer and closer around Drogo, yet the khal did not react.
His gaze was fixed on the brown hills in the distance, the reins hanging loosely from his hand.
Then one bloodfly landed on the khal's bare shoulder. Another circled for a moment before settling on his neck, crawling toward his mouth. Khal Drogo swayed slightly in the saddle, the bells in his hair chiming softly, while his mount continued forward at a steady pace.
Finally, a particularly bold bloodfly crawled up his long beard, onto his cheek, and stopped in the crease beside his nose.
Khal Drogo swayed again in the saddle, tilting to one side. Dany, who had been watching him closely, shot out her left hand like a spirit snake and yanked him back upright.
The swarm of bloodflies scattered for a heartbeat, then hovered back and settled on him once more.
The next moment, the whispers that had always existed among the people behind them erupted into a roaring wave. All the horsefolk were shocked.
"The khal almost fell off his horse!"
"A khal who nearly fell from his own horse—"
The khal was the leader of the khalasar, the direction of its advance, the focus of all eyes. His every move was magnified, as if under a lens.
A Dothraki who could not ride a horse was not even qualified to be a proper horseman—let alone the tribal leader, the khal?
"Silence! The khal is still in the saddle!" Dany turned back and shouted. After speaking, she even released the right hand that had been supporting Drogo.
That moment of terror had startled Drogo awake. Now he could control the reins again.
"My moon of my life…"
For the first time in days, he consciously looked at Dany—and for the first time, he called his "beloved."
Daenerys was awkward for a moment, rummaging through her memories, then replied, "My sun and stars… should we stop and rest?"
At that moment, her face must have been twisted.
But no one paid attention to her expression. Drogo's bloodriders were already spurring their horses toward them.
"Blood of my blood."
"Blood of my blood, how are you?"
Before Drogo could speak, Daenerys immediately announced loudly, "The khal has given the order—today, the day grows late. We will make camp here."
"Here?" Haggo looked up at the sun hanging high in the sky—around two or three in the afternoon—then scanned the surroundings. The plants were withered, everything brown and yellow, unfit for living.
He glared with his ferocious triangular eyes. "We cannot camp here."
"A woman has no right to order us to stop," Qotho said as well. "Not even the khaleesi."
"It is Khal Drogo's command," Dany said, stiffening her neck as she forged the imperial edict.
The old bloodrider Cohollo looked at her deeply, then said to the other two, "Find the nearest water source. Set an oval camp between the khal's palace and the lake."
Qotho froze for a moment, then left with Haggo to carry out the order.
Cohollo then began directing people to set up Drogo's grass-mat palace in the shade behind a hill.
Soon, word came from the front that a stream had been found. The main body of the khalasar passed beyond Daenerys, continuing toward the water source.
"Save me… water… I need water… save me…"
A weak, fragmented cry for help drifted from a wooden cart passing by her side. The voice was feeble, yet it stirred a sense of familiarity in Dany.
Silver-haired Lillith!
After returning last night, Dany had asked Doreah about Lillith.
Like Doreah, she was a prostitute Illyrio had bought in Lys, a gift to Drogo on his wedding day, later given to Jhaqo.
But while Doreah was the current top courtesan, Lillith—nearing thirty—could only be considered a former "number one."
Now she lay alone on a creaking, swaying wooden cart. Blood dripped from her lower body, soaking her dress. One golden sandal had fallen off, and her pale calf swung unconsciously with the jolting of the cart.
"Wait." Daenerys called out to the woman driving the cart. Covering her nose against the sharp smell of blood, she asked, "What happened to her? Why hasn't she been treated? Where is her maid? She's been begging for water—didn't you hear her?"
"Khaleesi, Lady Lillith fell from her horse…" The black woman hesitated, unsure how to continue.
This… Dany froze. Because of that line she had deliberately used to provoke her yesterday, had Lillith really tried to ride a horse today?
In fact, even the fiercest Dothraki women could not continue long journeys on horseback when close to childbirth.
Thus, in horsefolk tradition, pregnant women riding in carts were not discriminated against.
Daenerys was a special case—dragon dreams had been restoring her body all along, making her absurdly tough.
Seeing Dany still looking at her, the woman continued in a vague tone, "Because of improper words, Jhaqo stripped her of her status as wife. Now she is the same as me—a slave. Naturally, she no longer has a maid, and the eunuchs will not treat a slave."
"What did she say?" Dany asked aloud, though she already had some guesses.
Before the emaciated black woman could answer, Lillith on the cart moaned hazily, "My child… Jhaqo Khal's son… save him… he is the future khal of the Jhaqo khalasar… I am the khaleesi… save me…"
Ugh. Was this woman really from the pleasure houses? How could she have no sense of restraint at all?
The black slave woman immediately collapsed to the ground, terror piling onto her numb face. "Spare me, Khaleesi! I—I'll drag her out right now and feed her to the dogs!"
"Feed her to the dogs?" Dany asked in disbelief.
"Jhaqo ordered me to take her to the outskirts of the khalasar to feed the wild dogs," the slave woman said.
"Has Jhaqo gone mad? She's carrying his child!"
"She can't give birth," the black slave woman said, pointing at Lillith's slightly deformed belly. "She fell from her horse this morning. Jhaqo originally sent eunuchs to look after her, but she kept bleeding without stopping. The healer woman said she couldn't be saved. Yet she stubbornly refused to die and kept saying treasonous things…"
...
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"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
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"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
(End Chapter)