By the flickering light of a few candles gathered close together, Drogo slowly traced his finger across the map, carefully following the lin
By the flickering light of a few candles gathered close together, Drogo slowly traced his finger across the map, carefully following the lines drawn by the cartographer.
His lips moved in a near-whisper as he silently recited the plan:
"The fleet will set sail from the Bay of Qarth, into the vast Summer Sea, pass through the Ghiscar Strait toward the ruins of Valyria, then circle the Smoking Sea and anchor near ancient Volantis along the Strait of the Long Summer..."
New Ghis was a city-state on an island near the Gulf of Grief. Populated by Ghiscari — another lineage of the Sons of the Harpy — the city still practiced slavery. Before Slaver's Bay was liberated, New Ghis had been no different from Meereen. The late Great Master Hizdahr zo Loraq had once held influence there.
Drogo saw New Ghis as a potential enemy along the western route, but not one that worried him. If the Ghiscari nobles dared to interfere, he would simply use the island as his first resupply station — and help himself to all their grain and gold.
But beyond New Ghis, another danger lurked — one that concerned Drogo far more: the Stone Men scattered throughout the Valyrian Peninsula.
Stone Men — the name given to those infected with advanced stages of greyscale — lived throughout the damp, foggy ruins of old Valyria. It was said the Triarchs of Volantis sent supply ships to them thrice each year, but those ships often returned with their crews dead or diseased. The Stone Men were said to be led by a mysterious figure known as the "King of Rags," also called the "Grey King" or the "Prince of the Sorrowful Vale." His identity and whereabouts remained so elusive that many believed him to be nothing more than a legend.
When asked which place in the world was the most terrifying, many named the Sorrowful Vale — a cursed stretch of shore swarming with the Stone Men, victims of late-stage greyscale.
There was no real cure for greyscale. Doomed and desperate, the Stone Men were more vicious than pirates, attacking any ship that strayed too close. Drogo did not fear their strength — what he feared was the disease they carried.
To him, the Stone Men were far more troublesome than the Ghiscari. Yet the Sorrowful Vale sat squarely along the route west — there was simply no way to avoid it.
So he could only pray.
After studying the map three times over, Drogo rolled up the parchment and set it aside. He turned in his chair, rested his chin on one hand, and gazed pensively at Missandei.
Because she had served her former masters from a young age, the girl from Naath had never fully developed — she was slender, barely curved, but had a lovely, delicate face.
Feeling the king's intense gaze on her, Missandei grew nervous. Her cheeks flushed, and her body trembled slightly. She imagined what might come next — both frightened and thrilled by the thought.
And why wouldn't she be? This man was too remarkable.
If Drogo showed even the slightest interest, she would go with the flow and betray Daenerys without hesitation. Such was the nature of people — loyalty shifted with the times.
True obedience could only be expected from the Unsullied. They had been taught since birth to follow commands.
But Missandei was overthinking it. Unlike her rising tension, Drogo was entirely relaxed. His thoughts weren't on such things. He was simply enjoying the sight of beauty to keep his mind sharp — pondering matters far more intriguing.
He had already memorized every region marked on the map:
In Westeros: The North, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Iron Islands, the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Reach, the Stormlands, Dorne, and Beyond the Wall.
In Essos, west of the Bone Mountains: The Free Cities, the Stepstones, Andalos, Rhoynar, the Valyrian Peninsula, the Kingdom of Sarnor, the Kingdom of Oros, the Kings of Ifeqevron, the Dothraki Sea, Slaver's Bay, Lhazar, Qarth.
East of the Bones: Yi Ti, the Plains of the Jogos Nhai, the Lands of the Shrikes, N'ghai, the Grey Waste, Mossovy, the Shadow Lands, and Asshai.
In Sothoryos: The Basilisk Isles and the Isle of Naath.
Other known regions included the Summer Islands, the massive Jade Sea archipelagos, Ib, and Ulthos.
These were the famed regions where humanity had set foot. Though Drogo could now list them like the back of his hand, to actually journey through them all would take him at least twenty years — and that only to scratch the surface.
This world was full of the curious, but their vision rarely reached beyond the edge of their maps. Some even believed the world was no bigger than what the parchment showed.
But Drogo — soul-reborn traveler that he was — was not like most men. Few shared his far-reaching gaze. He believed the known world was just the tip of the iceberg.
And even that tip remained largely unexplored. So many secrets still lay buried.
Take the Land of Always Winter, said to be the source of White Walker activity. Or the origin of dragons — shrouded in the shadows of Asshai. From the Dawn Age onward, mankind had sought answers, yet the truth remained elusive.
Perhaps someone knew. But if they did, they left no trace of it for others.
He recalled the final season of the show from his past life: Arya Stark never returned to Winterfell. She didn't become Lady of Storm's End, nor did she return to the House of Black and White in Braavos.
Instead, she sailed west — beyond the maps of Westeros.
A direwolf banner fluttered above her ship. Before her stretched the open sea. No one knew where she'd end up.
It could be a land brimming with magic...
Or a wilderness crawling with beasts...
Or perhaps a great civilization, its glory surpassing that of Westeros!
Suddenly, Drogo had a thought — a hope:
If he could become a Greenseer, with eyes vast enough, perhaps he could glimpse the world's true shape.
The last known Greenseer now dwelled in the Haunted Forest, beyond the Wall — the Three-Eyed Raven. And his chosen heir was Bran Stark.
But what if Drogo found the Three-Eyed Raven before Bran? Might he become the next Greenseer?
He believed he had a good chance. His warging ability already surpassed what Bran could manage at this stage.
Still, it was just a fantasy — not something urgent. If fate allowed, perhaps he'd pursue it.
Before he realized it, night was halfway gone. Drogo yawned and said,
"Missandei, go to sleep."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace," she stammered, blushing.
As she walked, she began to undress — stripping layer by layer as she approached him, graceful and unhurried.
Drogo blinked, caught off guard by her boldness.
Was this girl trying to go back to the days before liberation?
"Stop!"
The Khal shouted — his voice cracking in a rare display of restraint.
Only then did Missandei realize her mistake. Mortified, she covered her face and fled the study.
Drogo rose from his chair, picked something off the ground, and shouted after her,
"Hey! You forgot your shackles!"
Missandei fumed silently in the dark — but there was no helping it. He was her king.
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