"Wah… cough, cough, cough." With the fire mana and curse power inside his body forcibly removed, Tyrion suddenly spat out a mouthful of pitch-black, foul-smelling congealed blood. A hint of clarity gradually returned to his eyes.
"Your Majesty's methods are indeed brilliant. Even Jon didn't realize I was cursed," the dwarf said, half in flattery and half in sincere admiration.
Daenerys' expression remained calm as she leaned back into her chair. While putting her iron gloves back on, she asked, "What happened? Tell me everything in detail."
The dwarf sighed deeply and, with Maege Mormont's cooperation, recounted everything from the outbreak of the incident to the outcome of the negotiations.
"Hiss… there are illusions that powerful in this world?" The Great Bear's face turned pale as she exclaimed in shock. "I've heard that some sorcerers know illusion magic, but they need potions to assist them, and even then they can only affect a small number of weak-willed people."
"I wonder if specially trained mongrels could tell the difference," said the centaur maid, Jiqi, tilting her head toward the doorway.
Everyone followed her gaze and saw two dogs, led by Unsullied, patrolling back and forth in the stairwell.
"Since it's magic, there should be magical fluctuations," Daenerys said thoughtfully.
"Sigh, that woman may not necessarily be stronger than you in raw power, but she has too many tricks. She's a pure sorceress, while you're more like a spellblade.
"This loss was disastrous. One wrong move, and the entire game was lost," the dwarf said bitterly.
"You deserve it. I told you not to provoke her, yet you insisted on going anyway. Which sorcerer doesn't have a few signature tricks? Not to mention she's a demigod," Daenerys sneered coldly, without the slightest sympathy.
"I didn't want to provoke her either, but Sansa…" The dwarf sighed helplessly. "Forget it. I also bear responsibility. I planned the entire assassination operation."
"Your Majesty, Stannis wants a wyvern as ransom. Will you give it to him?" Maege asked.
Daenerys curiously examined the Great Bear's aunt. She stood just over one and a half meters tall, with gray-white hair and a sallow face carved with deep, knife-like lines. She looked about fifty years old and wore an old set of black armor.
Short, yet solidly built and strong, she was clearly a seasoned female warrior.
"One wyvern is nothing, but Stannis probably has no use for a wyvern now."
Daenerys then explained how the allied wyvern squad had appeared, and how Euron and Randyll Tarly had worked together to drive back the Golden Company and the Dornish cavalry.
"It seems there's a traitor among us," Tyrion said suspiciously. "Someone is passing messages back and forth between Stannis and the Iron Throne, and he isn't loyal to Stannis at all. He's serving the Iron Throne."
In the next moment, the image of a red-faced, fat man surfaced in his mind.
Maester Theomore, his cousin!
"Seven save us. The one who ruined my plan turned out to be a Lannister!"
The dwarf's face was burned pitch-black, making his expression impossible to see, but his eyes and tone were filled with absurdity and despair.
"Who is the traitor?" Maege demanded angrily.
"Maester Theomore. He was born in Lannisport and is a cadet branch of House Lannister. My father even sponsored him back then.
"It was precisely because he was a Lannister that he was able to secure the lucrative post of maester in White Harbor."
The dwarf muttered bitterly, "If he hadn't passed on the information, then even if Aegon was captured, the core forces of the True Dragon Alliance could have withdrawn in an orderly fashion before King's Landing uncovered our details. We could have retreated back to Storm's End and the Vale. There might still have been a chance to regroup in the future, but now…"
The Golden Company had been crippled, Dorne had been crippled, the Stormlands' nobles had lost all cohesion, and it was unclear what state the Vale was in now.
"Since he's a Lannister, how did he become the maester of Winterfell?" Jorah asked in confusion.
"Maesters have given names but no surnames," old Aemon frowned. "Lord Manderly should have known his background!"
Lord Manderly not only knew his background, he even suspected that Theomore had colluded with King's Landing. As a result, many confidential matters, such as the alliance with Davos and the contact with Lady Stoneheart, were all kept from him.
That was why Lord Manderly was able to carry out so many covert actions under Bolton control without ever being exposed.
When Jon was searching for a maester for Winterfell, Lord Manderly had also warned him. However, Lord Manderly had no evidence to prove that Maester Theomore had ever betrayed him.
In fact, Theomore had always worked hard for House Manderly, managing White Harbor in perfect order. He had never betrayed Lord Manderly before, simply because he had never had the opportunity.
"It seems that the Citadel, which has existed for thousands of years, has truly reached the point where it must either reform or perish," the Great Bear sighed.
"Maester Aemon, first help Tyrion clean off the herbs and filth on his body. When I return this evening, I'll use holy healing to treat his injuries.
"As for Countess Maege, stay in the pyramid for now. For Tyrion to recover, it will take at least a week. Jiqi, go prepare a bedroom.
"Ser Jorah, take half a day off and accompany the countess to familiarize herself with Meereen."
After making arrangements for the dwarf and Maege, Daenerys immediately summoned Drogon and flew away from the Great Pyramid.
Once Aemon directed the Unsullied to carry the dwarf away, Jiqi and several maids also left the garden.
Maege tugged at her collar and said, "It's already winter in the North at this time, yet it's still summer here."
"Winter is coming here as well. The temperature is ten degrees lower than two years ago. There's already light snowfall on the northern Dothraki Sea."
"Degrees?" Maege asked blankly.
Jorah found an outdoor thermometer under a persimmon tree in the garden and explained it to his aunt.
"At the current rate of temperature decline, Meereen's average temperature will reach zero in ten months. The Long Night will probably arrive around then."
"Bah, the Long Night hasn't even shown a shadow yet. Anyway, winter in the North hasn't gotten any colder. The past few months have been full of bright sunshine," Maege said, waving her hand dismissively.
She then examined her grand nephew closely. His complexion was ruddy, his energy abundant, and his eyes bright. He wore a brand-new smoke-black matte plate armor, with brilliant white glazed porcelain on the chest, and a wide, spotless white cloak flowing behind him.
He looked every bit imposing and extraordinary.
"Not bad at all. You're a hundred thousand times better than when you fled the North in a panic back then. Looks like Alysane was right. You've truly remade yourself in Slaver's Bay." The she-bear patted her grand nephew's chest a few times, laughing warmly.
Big Bear's face darkened, and he said awkwardly, "That was so many years ago. Why bring it up now?"
"Why don't you go take a walk in the streets?" he added quickly, changing the subject.
Meiji walked over to the low wall and looked toward the distant military camp. "They're fighting outside. What is there to see inside the city?"
About ten kilometers outside Meereen, the allied camp appeared hazy. The fortifications and tents were hard to make out, yet they nearly filled her entire field of view.
Faintly, she could see a matchstick-sized spark flare against the azure sky. Meiji guessed it was dragonfire, but the distance was too great. The dragons themselves were not even the size of broad beans, and the dragonfire looked even more insignificant.
When Jorah fetched a high-powered telescope and handed it to her, Meiji confirmed her earlier guess.
The camp, enclosed by wooden palisades, was laid out in a neat square. Inside ran broad loop-shaped avenues, and outside the camp there were deep trenches.
Because the camp was built by the sea, seawater had been diverted into the trenches, making them resemble a crude moat.
Colorful yurts dotted the camp like mushrooms sprouting in a field after spring rain.
The soldiers' tents and the stables for the warhorses were all arranged in orderly rows.
Dozens of wyverns were locked in battle in the sky. From time to time, a wyvern would drop a fire-oil bomb, smashing into the ground and erupting into flames more than ten meters high. Red fire and green fire bloomed like bewitching flowers.
However, the way the wyverns fought was somewhat beyond Meiji's expectations.
In her mind, it should have been like the dragon battles in The Dance of the Blood Dragons: two dragons tangled together, one biting the other's neck, the other tearing at a wing, scales falling like snow, blood pouring like rain, roars piercing the clouds. In the end, a corpse would crash to the ground, shaking the land in all directions.
Instead, the wyverns were clearly divided into two distinct layers. The upper layer flew above four hundred meters, not many of them, only seven or eight. Their wings were painted with bright red seven-pointed stars, and they were dropping fire-oil bombs on the camp. These were likely the Dragon Queen's riders. The lower layer flew between two hundred and three hundred meters. Their broad leathery wings bore no markings and belonged to the allied forces.
The allied wyverns numbered over forty. They formed squads of five, periodically climbing higher as if to attack the seven-pointed-star wyverns that were dropping bombs. Then the Dragon Queen, riding her black dragon, would rush over and unleash dragonfire. But before the flames could reach them, the allied wyverns would immediately dive, lowering their altitude and reentering the safe zone below two hundred meters.
Meiji finally understood. The camp had many dragon-scourging ballistae, not fixed emplacements, but mounted on open wagons, each carrying a single ballista. They raced along the roads between the tents, dodging falling fire-oil bombs and chasing dragons that descended into the lethal range of bows and bolts.
If the Dragon Queen's black dragon pursued allied wyverns into airspace below three hundred meters, slender bolts gleaming with metallic light would immediately shoot into the sky.
At the same time, an allied wyvern squad from another direction would seize the chance, climbing higher once the great dragon left, preparing to encircle and kill the seven-pointed-star wyverns that were bombing the camp.
Then the Dragon Queen would rush off again to rescue them.
Uh, the scene was like a game of whack-a-mole. The black dragon was the hammer, the allied wyvern squads were the moles, and the seven-pointed-star wyverns were the cheese on the ground. The mice tried to crawl out of their holes to steal the cheese, and the hammer would smash down immediately.
At first, the mice all rushed out together, hoping to overwhelm the hammer. But once the cheese dropped its fire-oil bombs, it too became a mouse. They would climb higher and flee toward Meereen, and the Dragon Queen would always manage to kill a few of the little mice that dared to dash out of their holes.
And so, the situation had settled into this strange stalemate.
"This…" Countess Meiji was seeing such a dragon battlefield for the first time. She stared in astonishment. "What exactly is this supposed to be?"
"Routine strategic bombing," Jorah replied calmly, explaining slowly. "Didn't you notice? Fires are breaking out all over the allied camp. Many tents and mercenaries are burning in the flames."
"You only have seven wyverns?"
"Of course not. There are dragons in the lairs behind us, and the town of New York on Free Maiden Island also has dragons leading wyverns to raid the allied supply fleets."
"Then why not gather together and act on a large scale?"
"Seven is the most efficient number, and also the limit of what the queen can personally oversee. If we send more, they might be shot down."
"What if you had the same numbers as the other side?" Meiji asked, puzzled.
"Then it would turn into a massive melee." Jorah's expression flickered with a moment of embarrassment, and his tone grew unnatural. "Aunt Meiji, you know this. Every wyvern rider has an extraordinary status. For example, both I and Gales Hightower are White Knights."
"So what?" Meiji still did not understand.
"Sigh. Our way of selecting dragon riders is different from the allies'. They can expend their riders freely. For us, if one dies, that is one fewer noble, one fewer commander. It simply is not worth it."
"You're afraid of dying?" Meiji asked in disbelief.
(End of chapter)
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09