"What are you crying for?" Aegon asked in confusion.
"Wuuu… I was deceived. They… they were even worse than me. Wuuu!"
The grievance in Tyrion's heart burst forth like a flood breaching a dam. Like a wronged child finally finding his mother, he clung to his little brother and wept bitterly.
"They?" Aegon's body trembled. Something about this felt wrong.
"Yes, them!" Tyrion howled.
"Ugh—ugh!" Aegon shoved Tyrion away as though dodging a pile of foul dog dung. Rubbing his arms covered in goosebumps, he said in disgust, "Don't come near me!"
"I'm a victim too, wuuu…" Tyrion cried in grievance.
"I… I'm small and weak, unable to resist. In truth, I never wanted that!" Tyrion covered his ugly face and sobbed uncontrollably.
Aegon, who had been full of disgust a moment ago, suddenly brightened. It was clear that Tyrion had not wanted to stay at the inn. Since he still lingered there for three or four hours, it meant…
"Hahaha!" The Dragon Queen covered her mouth, laughing with delight.
"Karma! Truly, it is karma. This is the punishment of the Seven. The Wildfire General defied the king's command and sought to steal pleasures. He deserved this calamity!"
Yet upon reflection, everything about it seemed perfectly reasonable.
And so, Tyrion had fallen into their trap.
Noticing the strange looks from the ministers and guards in the hall, Tyrion flushed with embarrassment and shame.
In truth, he had not spent the past two days simply sitting by the sea, letting the wind blow over him.
That very night, the more he thought about it, the angrier he grew. He summoned Tysha and set out to sea in search of Xaro's ship.
At that time, Xaro had only left Astapor by a few dozen miles. By dawn, Tyrion caught up.
But when he finally did, he had no idea what to do.
Kill Xaro? The man hadn't actually lied.
"This really is…" Aemon's old face twisted, then he tried to comfort the dwarf: "Don't take it too much to heart. Among Westerosi nobles, especially those in the South, such things are quite common."
"All right, this is the Small Council." Dany waved her hand, ending the discussion.
"Northwest of Meereen, the nomads under Jhogo have already begun to retreat. They encountered the vanguard scouts of Khal Lhazar's riders.
There was a brief skirmish. Those riders belonged to Khal Jhaqo and Khal Moro, invited by the Qohorik to raid and burn the estates outside Meereen."
Quaro was the first to step forward. "Your Grace, you are the Khaleesi destined to unite the horse tribes. I suggest you immediately ride your dragon to Vaes Dothrak.
Under the witness of the dosh khaleen, be crowned as the sole Horse Queen of the Dothraki Sea.
Then, in the name of the Horse Queen, rally the khalasars. If Jhaqo and Moro submit to you, so be it. If they resist, you hold the rightful cause and the strength to defeat them. Slay the two khals, and the remaining tribes will easily fall under your khalasar."
Quaro was indeed wiser than most horsemen. His "Conquer the Dothraki Sea Plan" was almost exactly what Dany envisioned for the future.
But only for the future. She would not act on it now.
The reason was simple. The main allied forces were still gathering toward Mantarys and would need another half year to reach the Meereen battlefield.
Was it better to strike head-on and inflict greater casualties, or to stab in the back for an even deadlier blow?
Clearly, the backstab was far more terrifying.
"Is it really that easy to subdue the horsemen? Just with dragons?" Tyrion asked doubtfully.
"Very easy, but only Her Grace can accomplish it."
Jorah nodded and explained: "Her Grace is a Khaleesi witnessed by the gods. Among the horsemen, in Vaes Dothrak, in the temple of the dosh khaleen, everyone knows this.
Her Grace is a Khaleesi and commands her own khalasar, which grants her the right, under Dothraki tradition, to annex any khal's tribe—simply by fairly and openly killing the khal and his sons."
"She must kill them herself? The White Knight can't do it in her stead?" Aemon frowned.
"Maester, Westeros is already xenophobic enough, but the horsemen are even more so than the Seven Kingdoms.
No one but a horseman can conquer the horsemen. They do not fear death, but they are bound to their traditions," Jorah said with a bitter smile.
"Does that mean… Her Grace is considered a horseman?" Tyrion asked strangely.
"Of course. No horseman can deny it." Quaro's eyes flashed as he swept his gaze across the hall. "Just as the King of Westeros holds the full title 'King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men,' Her Grace is your queen, but she is also our Khaleesi. There is no contradiction."
"In that case, let us wait a little longer. Once Her Grace's armor is forged, with Valyrian steel plate and a Valyrian steel sword, she will be much safer when fighting a khal." Old Aemon spoke.
"Ugh, truly victories without defeats." Tyrion's mouth twitched.
"Yes, there is no rush. We can wait until the armor is ready." Dany cast a glance at the dwarf, then continued, "But we cannot let our guard down. Until Ser Clinton brings back more wyverns, the current fourteen wyvern riders must work harder.
In addition to raiding the enemy supply ships, they must also patrol Meereen.
A dereliction of duty like the Wildfire General's last time must never happen again."
That last remark was directed specifically at the dwarf.
After today's meeting ended and everyone dispersed, Tyrion caught up with Dany, who was heading down to the smithy, and said with a grin, "Your Grace, lately our allied merchant ships crossing the Free Maiden's Western Strait have often had wyvern riders escorting them.
At first, I managed to bring down one or two riders with my 'Tyrion Crossbow,' but later they learned to copy the idea and began equipping themselves with bows and crossbows. Just the other day, I even got an arrow stuck in my back!
It was an armor-piercing bolt that pierced right through my mail. Luckily, it wasn't poisoned—just a scratch, some bleeding, nothing too serious."
The "Tyrion Crossbow" was a large arbalest that used the flapping force of a wyvern's wings to draw its bowstring.
Tyrion had spoken of this theory before, and soon enough he turned theory into reality, even applying it in battle.
The joints of dragons and wyverns were not smooth like chicken wings. Around the wing bones grew thick, root-like tendons, with long barbs the size of a man's arm.
Tyrion picked one barb from each side, drilled through them, and ran an iron chain across. One end of the chain had an iron ring. Normally, the two arms of the arbalest functioned by elastic tension, but in his design,
the "Tyrion Crossbow" had a simple yet ingenious mechanism that converted the wing's flapping power into the tension needed for cocking.
Once cocked, even if the wyvern kept flapping its wings, it wouldn't affect the crossbow.
A wyvern's wingbeats generated several tons of force, while drawing the string only required two to three hundred kilograms. The impact on flight was negligible.
This was how combat looked:
The dwarf rode on the dragon's back, hands gripping a crossbow the size of a Gatling gun, chasing after enemy wyvern riders, "biubiubiu!"
The opponents would draw their hand crossbows, dodging the bolts while shooting back at the dwarf.
In theory, the dwarf was like a man with a fully automatic machine gun, with overwhelming firepower, and should have been unbeatable.
But they rode dragons, not fighter jets. Jets cannot collide, while wyverns fought at close quarters as a norm.
Small crossbows could not kill dragons—and Tyrion had misfired more than once, even hitting Tessa on the back of the head.
So, when outnumbered, Tyrion could not hold his ground. On his flight to New York Town, stray arrows genuinely could have killed him.
"Could you also make me a set of Valyrian steel armor?" the dwarf asked with a flattering smile.
Dany considered it. Wyvern riders were indeed at risk in dragon battles. Once Old Turtle delivered the iron ingots, giving a wyvern rider a set of armor wasn't too much. She asked, "Do you want plate or chainmail?"
Seeing her agree, Tyrion was overjoyed and quickly said, "Thank you, Your Grace, you are truly generous and caring for your people. I'll take plate—plate is sturdier and better against high-speed impacts."
"No. You misunderstand. You may wear the armor, but it will not be given to you for free," Dany shook her head.
"I've earned some merit, haven't I?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow.
"Not enough. Titles are given for merit. When you've earned the rank of count, then we can discuss this again."
At the smithy, while Tobho measured his height and arm span, Tyrion was stunned to see the Dragon Queen take off her brocade gown and change into a white shirt and deep blue canvas trousers.
Her silver hair was tied high, showing her delicate ears. The top two buttons of her shirt were undone, revealing her swan-like neck. The hem was tucked into a brown leather belt, the trousers hugging her strong, straight legs. She wore knee-high low-heeled riding boots. She looked dashing and stylish, with a unique charm. But—
She was holding a hammer!
She walked to the blazing forge, raised the hammer, and began pounding.
By the Seven, the Dragon Queen was smithing!
"The Queen is smithing," the dwarf muttered.
"Oh, Her Grace forges her own armor. Many magical arrays must be incorporated during the process, and only she can perform the enchantments while forging."
Tobho had already passed the stage of being shocked. He spoke calmly now.
"But… how does she know how to forge?" Tyrion asked in confusion.
Tobho glanced at Dany with reverence and sighed. "She didn't before. I taught her everything. What can I say? The Queen's gift for smithing is as extraordinary as her gift for magic."
"Your Grace, what enchantments are you putting into the armor?" After his measurements were done, Tyrion walked behind Dany, trying to sound ingratiating.
"You wouldn't understand even if I told you," Dany replied without turning, still swinging the hammer.
Standing behind her, Tyrion caught the scent of her fragrant, sweat-dampened perfume. Feeling a little uneasy, he shifted to the side of the anvil and smiled fawningly. "No need for the principles, just tell me what the spells do."
Dany glanced at him from the corner of her eye and said coolly, "Don't even think about it. I won't be enchanting anything for you."
The dwarf rubbed his nose awkwardly and chuckled. "Just say it, let me broaden my horizons."
"Two simple effects. First, like the Wall, it boosts resistance to magic, wards off evil, and reduces damage from sorcery and divine power. Second…"
"Battle Qi Wings!" Dany said with a strange expression.
Tyrion trembled and muttered, "Battle Qi Wings… sounds powerful. What is it?"
(End of Chapter)
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