Dany said, "Jon, your mission isn't just to form an alliance with the Lhazareen. I want them to migrate collectively to Slaver's Bay—not only as allies but also as my subjects.
I will swear a sacred oath to ensure their safety and provide them with fertile, expansive lands.
In return, they must swear loyalty to me, to House Targaryen, and fulfill their duty by farming and paying tribute."
Jon Bolton asked, "What if they refuse? After all, the Lhazar River Valley has been their homeland for thousands of years."
"Tell them this: if the coalition army marches from Jade Sea to Slaver's Bay, they will inevitably forage along the way and might even capture Lhazareen to use as slave labor.
Secondly, the Lhazar River borders the Dothraki Sea to the north, a place every khal hunts after leaving Vaes Dothrak. They should know this even better than I do.
But in Slaver's Bay, with me here, no khal—except for mine—can pass Meereen. In the White River region, the Lhazareen will enjoy a peace they've never known.
Lastly, the Long Night is coming. They've been harassed by the horsemen every year. They have no food reserves and no way to store them.
Only by allying with me and swearing fealty can the Lhazareen avoid annihilation during the Long Night.
Tell them. Tell all the Lhazareen—I, Daenerys Targaryen, am their savior!"
Jon Bolton nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "You want to settle them in the White River region? You're not planning to bring them to Astapor?"
"Relocating the Lhazareen to the Worm River would take too long—maybe one or two years. But they already live upstream of the HLJ. If they follow the river downstream, they'll reach the confluence of the White River and HLJ in just a week—the place where I asked you to build a city.
From there, they can continue south along the White River. Water travel is easy and fast. Within two months, the Lhazareen can begin clearing land and farming along the river."
After assigning the Royal Guard their tasks, Dany turned again to the Dothraki and said, "Qhoro, work with Rakharo. Starting now, construct three fodder fields on the outskirts of Meereen, Astapor, and Kayenne. Each one must accommodate at least ten thousand dairy cows."
"Cows?" Rakharo asked, puzzled. "Why not strong horses?"
"If the Long Night truly comes, warhorses will be useless. We'll end up slaughtering them for meat. What we really need are cows—for milk, cheese, and butter."
"Ten thousand cows—will that be enough?" Qhoro asked doubtfully.
"Barely enough to supply the cities. From today, I'll begin stockpiling unlimited amounts of butter and cheese. The city's pyramids will be used as warehouses.
Also, farmers outside the city already raise cattle. I'll issue a decree so they can start preparing now. At the very least, we must be self-sufficient."
"How long can Slaver's Bay's food last?" Clinton suddenly asked.
Jorah gave him a long, deep look and replied, "Have you heard of the 'Great Leap Forward in Agricultural Production'? Over a million people opened up tens of millions of acres of farmland, and they still haven't stopped.
Rice yields three harvests a year. Barley and turnips can be harvested twice a year.
At maximum capacity, the annual food output of Slaver's Bay is enough to feed two million people generously for ten years."
"Ten years? That's insane," Clinton said, stunned.
Dany smiled faintly. "That's why it's called a 'Great Leap Forward.' A million people farming nothing but food, working five and a half days a week, continuously reclaiming land, planting crops, and then harvesting rice that was planted three months ago—then starting the cycle all over again."
"Are they really that obedient? Isn't it exhausting?" Clinton asked in disbelief.
Simon "Scarback," commander of the Free Wings cavalry, said, "It's a lot easier than being a slave. Plus, there are performing troupes putting on shows for everyone. Life now is more vibrant than ever."
Morono the "Fat Scholar," commander of the Free Wings infantry, said proudly, "Even if the Long Night really does come again, like last time and lasts for 20 years, we won't let a single person starve."
"Twenty years? Just two years of winter would wipe out more than half the North. If it lasts four years, 70% of Westeros will die. After 20 years, probably only a few lords holed up in their castles will survive," Clinton said in despair.
"Dany has already prepared a stockpile of about 200,000 tons of food on Dragonstone,"
As Archmaester Aemon spoke, his voice grew fainter until he finally sighed and fell silent.
If the Long Night this time lasts a whole generation like last time—nearly 20 years—then even two million tons of food won't be enough to save Westeros.
"This Long Night definitely won't last 20 years," Jorah Mormont said confidently, gazing at Dany. "With Her Majesty here, five dragons, over twenty Valyrian steel swords, and two sets of Valyrian steel armor—we will kill the Night King."
"There's also Lightbringer—that sword restrains the White Walkers. After Stannis falls, Dany can inherit it," Aemon added excitedly.
"Why are you so certain Stannis will die?" Dany asked, twitching at the corner of her mouth.
"He's not the true wielder of Lightbringer, yet he holds the sword. If he doesn't die, where will the prophesied child get their blade?" Aemon declared, righteous and sure.
That actually…kind of made sense.
"Lightbringer isn't such a big deal," Dany said with a smug smile. "I've already recorded about seventy percent of the magical runes engraved in the sword. In a few days, Big Black will bring the blacksmith Butor back.
Once I've mastered the spell to reforge Valyrian steel swords, I'll melt down all twenty-plus of them and reforge them anew. Every one of us will have a Lightbringer forged from Valyrian steel. We'll all be saviors!"
"Uh…" Everyone was both shocked and delighted—except Aemon, who fell into dazed silence.
If everyone had their own Lightbringer, then what value would the prophesied child still hold—the one whose only distinction was wielding a unique sword gifted by prophecy?
"Can ordinary people wield magic swords?" Jorah asked doubtfully.
"I'll test it and see if you can change class to become magic sword wielders. First we test for talent. If anyone has supernatural aptitude, they'll learn fire magic. If not…"
"Maybe," Dany said, uncertain, "we can try using blood magic to create talent."
"Blood magic? Dany, do you even understand blood magic?" Aemon asked with a frown.
Dany shook her head but said seriously, "I saw Jeyne in Matalis. She has the divine soul of Balerion inside her. I plan to find a way to kill him and steal his power. He definitely knows the most advanced blood sorcery."
Clinton, Aemon, Jon Bolton…
Everyone was dumbfounded, staring wide-eyed at the Dragon Queen's serious expression.
"Kill Balerion?" Aemon's face turned pale. He staggered and grabbed the table for support, his voice trembling. "That's the ancestral god of Valyria. House Targaryen has worshipped him for six thousand years!"
"He's already meddling with the enemy. Of course he has to die," Dany said firmly.
"But... he's a god," old Aemon muttered in near collapse. "How can a man fight against a god?"
"You say that, but have you forgotten the Rat Cook?"
"Uh…"
...
The meeting ended, and everyone dispersed.
Just as Dany was about to return to her room to rest, young Aegon came to the top floor looking for her.
Having just arrived in Slaver's Bay, both young Aegon and Tyrion were unfamiliar with the situation and held no military command, so they hadn't attended the "war mobilization conference."
Aegon glanced around at the people packing up maps and preparing to leave. He said, "Aunt Dany, I'd like to speak with you alone."
"Your Grace, I'll be off then. Take your time chatting."
Old Aemon led the way in bidding farewell. The others, though curious, quickly followed suit and left.
Soon, only Dany and Aegon remained on the top floor—along with Little Green, Little Gold, and Little Red, who were dozing on the thick parapet.
"What is it you want to say?"
Dany picked up a glass bottle from the table and poured herself a cup of pink peach blossom wine.
Aegon stood stiffly, staring at the relaxed Dragon Queen in her chair. His voice was rigid. "I want a dragon. I want to be a dragonrider. A Targaryen without a dragon has no right to be king!"
"Heh." Dany chuckled with layered meaning and asked, "Didn't we agree to worry about the Iron Throne after the Long Night? I already promised that if we really face the Night King, I'll let you take his head."
"That doesn't contradict me becoming the Dragon King. With a dragon, I won't need your help. I can kill the Night King myself," Aegon replied stiffly, pressing his lips together.
Dany shook her head and sighed. "That's a very dangerous mindset. You have no idea how terrifying the White Walkers are, nor how dangerous Westeros can be."
"I know Westeros has scorpion ballistas. I'll be careful," Aegon said.
"Scorpions? Heh."
The Dragon Queen's scornful laugh made Aegon's handsome face flush red.
Seeing this, Dany didn't press further and asked curiously, "I never forbade you from interacting with the dragons. Haven't you been helping Maester Aemon feed Little Red lately?"
"He doesn't like me."
"I think he treats you quite well. He lets you join Missandei and Rhaella in his little classroom, and even gives you private tutoring every morning on Targaryen history."
"Maester Aemon is great. It's Little Red who doesn't like me," Aegon said awkwardly. "Whenever I try to touch him, he bites my fingers. He's clearly closer to Maester Aemon.
A dragon only bonds with one rider. Maybe... Little Red has already accepted Aemon."
Dany's violet eyes narrowed. She asked softly, "He really bit you? Did you try a few more times?"
"I did, but he wouldn't let me touch him."
Being rejected by a hatchling dragon filled Aegon with a strange sense of shame. Now, repeatedly questioned by the Dragon Queen, he said irritably,"I told you, a dragon only has one rider—and Little Red met Maester Aemon first. Don't forget, Aemon is a Targaryen too."
Dany's gaze flickered. She gently advised, "You're agitated right now, and that's not good. I suggest you stay calm and spend more time bonding with Little Red. Try again later."
This Aegon… even a purebred Targaryen dragon finds him distasteful. Is he really Rhaegar's son?And Jon—Jon could earn Ghost's affection!
Aegon scratched his head anxiously and blurted, "Little Red is still too young. I can't wait any longer. Aunt, you said it yourself—the Long Night is coming. I don't want to just sit idle in Astapor."
"Then which dragon do you want?"
The warmth faded from Dany's eyes, though her smile grew even gentler.
You want one of my dragons?Let's see if I don't take your head first!
"Have you bonded with Drogon yet?" Aegon asked.
"I'm not like other Targaryens. No dragon would ever reject me."
This foolish boy—he has his eye on Drogon?
"Then… can I choose the black dragon as my companion?" Aegon asked hopefully.
"Drogon's away on a trip. Try again when he returns," Dany replied coolly.
"Then can I try the green one first?" Aegon sighed and turned his gaze to Little Green on the parapet.
As if sensing his gaze, Little Green's emerald slit pupils suddenly opened.
"Ah—!" Aegon recoiled in panic.
"Giggle giggle." Dany took a sip of peach blossom wine, her laughter like the tinkling of bells.
He can't even handle the pressure of a true dragon, and he dares dream of taming one?
Aegon's face turned red. A flicker of determination flashed in his purple eyes. He strode forward and declared loudly,"Little Green, I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Elia. I carry the blood of the true dragons—be my partner!"
(End of Chapter)
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