If the Dothraki had no ambition, the title of Khaleesi would be worth nothing; but if one wished to rule the Dothraki, the title of Daenerys Khaleesi was the first step toward becoming the Great Khal.
Don't assume that because ordinary Dothraki do not marry, a Khal can choose his Khaleesi at random.
In truth, once a Khal took a wife, he would return to Vaes Dothrak and have the marriage "certified" in the Mother of Mountains.
Only after receiving the acknowledgment of the Dosh Khaleen would a Khaleesi be considered a true Khaleesi.
And Daenerys was the one recognized—and most favored—by all the Dosh Khaleen.
Especially since she had once accomplished a feat rarely achieved even among the Dothraki: eating a raw horse heart.
Fresh from the belly of a wild stallion, the heart still throbbed, its dense muscle requiring her to tear at it with all her strength, until her cheeks ached from the effort. She had to chew it slowly before swallowing, each bite splattering her face with scalding horse blood.
That taste…
Daenerys felt grateful that all the worst hardships had been endured by her predecessor, leaving her to enjoy the advantage now.
When she brought gifts and requested an audience with the one-eyed crone, the old woman received her without the slightest hesitation.
Daenerys and the crone were old acquaintances. The prophecy of Rhaego and Drogos decision to lead the khalasar across the Narrow Sea to conquer Westeros had both been confirmed by this very woman.
The tent was a blue, open-topped pavilion of about a hundred square meters, with a great fire burning at its center and four or five eunuchs busying themselves around it.
As soon as she lifted the hide curtain, Daenerys smelled a thick, strange odor—a mixture of blood and herbs.
She looked around and saw a variety of medicinal ingredients laid out on nearby boards: myrrh, saffron, ox knee root, teasel, sourleaf, tansy, and more.
Clearly, the old woman also served as a true "Mongol doctor."
The crone examined Daenerys and her bloodriders' waists and backs with her single eye, then nodded. "Good. You have set aside your weapons."
The Mother of Mountains was sacred, and Vaes Dothrak was the holy city; within its bounds, carrying metal blades was strictly forbidden.
A returning Khal, once arriving at his palace, would remove his weapons, hand them to the palace slaves for safekeeping, and only then freely move around the city.
Daenerys likewise followed the rule before visiting the Dosh Khaleen, leaving her greatsword and daggers at camp.
"Aggo, bring in the gifts," Daenerys said with a smile, turning to her bloodrider.
Soon, lines of Dothraki filed in, each carrying a large wooden chest on his shoulder.
Her five hundred screamers had set out ahead of her, riding straight for Vaes Dothrak. Once they neared the city, she caught up on her dragon, her bloodriders on their wyverns. The dragon and wyverns also carried several tons of gifts.
With a crack, the first chest was opened, golden light shimmering together with the red of the bonfire.
The one-eyed crone remained unmoved.
The Dothraki withdrew; another entered and placed a wooden box the size of a travel bag before them. It opened—another blaze of gold.
Chest after chest, one after another, until the entire pavilion seemed draped in a golden cloak.
At last, the crone's expression shifted.
Nearly ten chests of gold—five hundred thousand gold dragons—half a lifetime of wealth for the old woman.
And still it was not over. More Dothraki came bearing ten chests of flawless trading beads, ten boxes of gemstones, ten sets of master-crafted jewelry, ten hen-egg-sized colored diamonds, ten bolts of the finest Yi Ti silk, ten massive sections of dragonbone (from wyverns), ten rolls of wyvern hide large as bedsheets, ten jars of miraculous medicine that cured greyscale, and ten casks of fine wine from the world's top brewing regions.
A total of one hundred Dothraki entered, each bringing a gift. From the central fire out past the open tent flap, the offerings stretched more than ten meters.
Every time a Dothraki set down a gift, he loudly announced its name and approximate value.
The one-eyed crone, who prided herself on a lifetime of experience, stood stunned, mouth agape. Eunuchs and other Dosh Khaleen gathered at the doorway, drawn by the commotion, each new gift provoking waves of astonished cries.
In sheer wealth, the Dragon Queen could not match the Iron Bank, but in luxury, none in the world surpassed her.
Others displayed wealth for show; she displayed it because she simply did not regard money as money.
Indeed, Daenerys never missed any opportunity to spend her wealth.
For example, buying grain to save lives. Or offering "gifts" to the Dosh Khaleen.
The Dothraki had no concept of bribery; they accepted gifts openly and proudly.
Gift-giving was their tradition.
In the end, the Dragon Queen personally presented a tin box the size of a tea caddy—ten boxes on a tray—containing cinchona bark.
As the one-eyed crone swayed in near-dizziness, Daenerys looked around at the other Dosh Khaleen quietly gathering at the entrance and proclaimed, "This is a divine medicine discovered on an island across the sea. A blessing of the Khaleesi, capable of driving out many demons, including the Pale Mare!"
After testing it, Daenerys had been astonished to discover that perhaps due to its origin in Sothoryos, the so-called "Land of Plague," cinchona in this fantasy world had become fantastical itself. For any plague presenting symptoms akin to malaria, it had powerful effects.
"Gods! Is it true? It can even cure the Pale Mare?"
"It must be. She already brought out 'Khaleesi's Endurance' to treat greyscale!"
"Greyscale is said to be incurable. Blood fever you might survive, but to treat greyscale means it can surely drive away the Pale Mare."
"By the gods—is she a deity of medicine?"
The appearance of "Khaleesi's Blessing" nearly caused the crowd to erupt.
The Dothraki did not particularly fear greyscale; its symptoms were too obvious, and they could simply run, abandoning the afflicted far behind.
But blood fever was like the flu—hard to detect and following like a nightmare.
In many cases, you could not even confirm that the Pale Mare had entered your tribe until people began dying in great numbers.
The one-eyed crone snapped out of her daze and first ordered the eunuch slaves attending her to move all the chests into her treasure vault beside the mound house. She then waved away the onlookers who had gathered out of curiosity.
Only after everyone left did she shakily sit back down on the fur-covered chair by the bonfire and sigh. "If you have the ability, it isn't impossible for you to become the steed that rides the world."
So she was relenting?
Well, this was the power of gifts. No wonder backdoor dealings are nearly impossible to eliminate among mortals.
Even Tang Sanzang, when he traveled west for the scriptures, had to offer the purple-gold alms bowl to Kāśyapa and Ānanda as a courtesy.
If even the Buddha accepts such things, what can ordinary people do?
"I do have the ability," Dany said immediately.
"I've heard about what you did in Slaver's Bay. You defied the world, so you certainly have ability. But to become the steed that rides the world requires more than commanding armies and governing a country," the crone said slowly.
"Don't worry, I can fight wars, I can rule a kingdom, and I'm more than capable of defeating a hundred men on my own. As for the power of money, you saw for yourself just now. That happens to be one of my specialties," Dany said confidently.
The crone's wrinkled old face twisted slightly.
"If you are willing to swear two solemn oaths to all horselords, I will lead the Dosh Khaleen to issue a summons to every Khal."
"What oaths?" Dany asked.
"First, according to the horselords' tradition of Khal combat, you will use blades to fight a battle of flesh and blood. There will be no magic, no dragons, and no armor fit only for cowards."
"No problem." Dany agreed without hesitation.
"Are you certain?"
"Why else would I travel thousands of miles to Vaes Dothrak? Meereen is waiting for me with a world war," Dany said.
The old woman stared at Dany with her dark, gloomy eye for a long moment before reminding her, "Do you know why the Zorsh people often have female Jaha, but the horselords never have a female Khal?
"The Zorsh tribes are held together by bloodlines, and the firstborn daughters of each family naturally have the advantage of inheritance.
"But we gather our people through the Khal's strength and wisdom. That forms a vast Khalasar not bound by blood.
"The Zorsh tribes are small but numerous; we are more populous, yet each generation produces far fewer Khals, and our Khalasars are many times larger than any one of their tribes.
"The Zorsh are bullied by the Ghiscari, but the horselords have only ever bullied others.
"We roam the continent freely. No one has ever dared bully us."
Tell that to the Valyrians, Dany grumbled inwardly.
Before the Century of Blood—the hundred years of chaos after the Doom of Valyria—the horselords had never taken even a single step near the Forest of Qohor.
They had always obediently pastured around Vaes Dothrak, and at most rode east to harass the tiny peoples in the mountain kingdoms.
Still, Dany had to admit that the horselords were far more domineering than the Zorsh.
Just look at the statues lining both sides of the Gods' Road—thousands of them.
Each one represented a city or town that had been destroyed.
Tywin once despised the Free Cities for being so cowardly that they paid tribute to any passing Khalasar each year.
He believed that if they simply united and crushed one or two Khalasars, the horselords would never dare move west again.
It sounded reasonable, but Tywin still did not fully understand the horselords.
Horselords do not win every time; they have been annihilated more times than anyone can count.
For example, when three thousand Unsullied defended Qohor, half of the Khalasar was wiped out. The Khal, the Khal's son, the bloodriders, and the Kos—every leader was killed.
The horselords cut off their braids and surrendered to the few hundred surviving Unsullied.
But did they stop pushing into Qohor afterward?
This had everything to do with their system.
Fear can be etched into genes and passed down.
But the ones who feel fear—the dead Khals—cannot pass on their genes.
The new Khals are always the bravest, fiercest, and least afraid of death, and their Khalasars inevitably share those traits.
If Tywin's plan were actually carried out, the first to collapse would be the Free Cities. Fighting open-field battles against horselords is far costlier than defending walls.
The crone continued, "A Khal's strength may not always remain the greatest in the Khalasar, but to become a Khal, he must defeat countless powerful challengers.
"Even a Khal's son must survive dozens of deadly combats to inherit his father's place.
"A woman's swordsmanship might surpass that of ten, a hundred, or even a thousand men, but sooner or later there will be a thousand-and-first man who defeats her.
"That is why the horselords have never had a female Khal. The strongest warrior will always be a man."
"Today, I will change that," Dany said with a faint smile.
The crone sighed. "The second oath is this: unless you marry another horselord or take a horselord lover and bear a child of horselord blood, you may not pass the title of Khal to your offspring.
"The horselords accept you because you were a Khal's wife, but your child…"
At this point, the crone's wrinkled, unsightly face trembled, and she said with deep regret, "What a pity, such a pity. If only Drogo had lived. If only we had succeeded in bringing Rhaego to Vaes Dothrak back then. Everything would have been so much simpler."
(End of chapter)
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