"Your Grace, are you sure it's appropriate to dress like this?"
Dany's horse-rider attire made Whitebeard's old face scrunch up, resembling a conservative father who just saw his beloved daughter adopt a rebellious look.
"I think the qipao you designed is beautiful and perfectly befitting royalty," he hesitated before suggesting.
Since that day they met Dany, Whitebeard and Davos had not left her side.
The two claimed that ensuring Dany's safety was their responsibility and vowed to follow her wherever she went.
Dany believed neither of them was deceitful or treacherous. Even if they had other motives, she trusted they wouldn't harm her, so she agreed to their request.
Ser Jorah, however, was far from pleased. He constantly warned Dany that Arstan (Whitebeard) was suspicious and nothing like a regular attendant.
Although Dany acknowledged his concerns, she countered that they would all eventually have to cross the sea together. More time together was inevitable, and it was impractical to keep the two separated indefinitely.
Thus, Ser Jorah resumed fulfilling his role as the Queen's sworn protector, becoming one of her bodyguards.
"Since we're at the stables, we'll naturally be riding out. My qipao isn't suited for this occasion," Dany said as she led her silver mare out, saddled it, and mounted it with graceful ease.
"This warrior-like outfit suits the little queen well. Davos approves," said the eunuch, who did not ride but walked protectively by her side with confident strides.
"Ahem, everyone, including you, Ser Jorah, please stop calling me 'Queen.' While we can use the title to intimidate strangers, among ourselves, there's no need for pretenses!"
Her mare's light steps crossed the threshold and onto the street.
"You are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the true queen," Whitebeard said sternly.
He and Ser Jorah rode alongside Dany, while Rakharo and four other Dothraki knights formed a protective perimeter around her.
"My brother Viserys always proclaimed himself the Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and King of Westeros, yet people mocked him as the 'Beggar King,'" Dany explained. "From now on, you may call me Khaleesi, Princess of Dragonstone, or simply Daenerys."
When Daenerys was born, the Targaryen dynasty still smoldered in its ashes, not entirely extinguished. Her title as Princess of Dragonstone was a historical fact that no one could deny—at most, she was a princess in exile.
Qarth was built on the northern shore of the straits, with the harbor district located in the southern part of the city.
Xaro's mansion stood in the affluent eastern district. It took crossing eight streets before they reached the impoverished southern slums.
There were no grand marble palaces or fragrant gardens here. Instead, old brick and tile houses lined the streets, most without even windows facing the road.
The dirty, chaotic streets teemed with naked children, beggars with grime-covered faces, emaciated sand-colored dogs, and pale-skinned Qartheen residents.
Not everyone could live as extravagantly as Xaro, wearing the elaborate traditional attire of Qarth every day. The commoners here dressed in shabby, grimy linen tunics—plain and unadorned.
As Daenerys passed through, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to watch her leave, their numb gazes following her.
They all knew her. Everyone knew the Mother of Dragons.
Gone was the fervor that had emptied the streets when she first entered the city. Now, their indifference toward her was tinged with fear.
The House of the Undying had collapsed in a great eruption of smoke and fire, witnessed by nearly all the people of Qarth.
At first, many were deceived by Daenerys's explanation, believing her claims that the warlocks had burned down their own ancient halls. After all, the House of the Undying had truly become the House of Ashes, and it did seem due for demolition and rebuilding. Everyone knew of the warlocks' madness, and burning down their own house seemed well within their nature.
One ambitious contractor even approached the warlock Pyat Pree, hoping to secure the construction rights for the new House of the Undying. He didn't even ask for payment—he merely wanted the street-facing premises as compensation.
The merchant was later seen running naked out of the black tree forest, screaming, "Where's my tail? I need my tail!"
The incident was deeply unsettling.
Other merchants, initially regretful for missing the opportunity, were terrified. The people of Qarth stopped discussing the warlocks' supposed madness in public altogether.
They began to wonder: had the Mother of Dragons lied? Could the warlocks' extreme reaction be proof of her deceit?
Overnight, the Qartheen remembered the danger of dragons. The crowds that had once eagerly visited Daenerys's residence disappeared, and her palace became eerily quiet.
Daenerys, however, was unbothered. She was preparing to leave, and the opinions of the Qartheen meant little to her now.
As they passed through the slums of Qarth and entered the harbor district, the streets grew busier. Carriages, palanquins, camel caravans, merchants of all colors, sailors, and street vendors filled the roads.
The air was thick with a strange blend of scents—perfume from merchants' wives, the aroma of roasting meat, and the sharp odors of leather, dung, sweat, and fish. This peculiar mix, accompanied by the clamorous chatter and the salty sea breeze, gave the city a chaotic vitality, a reminder of life's vibrancy.
Daenerys realized she had grown fond of Qarth. She regretted spending so much time confined to Xaro's garden-palace, nearly missing the true beauty of this bustling hub of trade between East and West.
"Clear the way! Make way for the Mother of Dragons!" bellowed the hulking Davos, shooing away a mule that had wandered into their path.
"I can smell it—the stench of poisoned water," Doreah, one of her Dothraki handmaidens, called out to Daenerys.
The Dothraki distrusted the sea and everything associated with it. To them, any water unfit for a horse to drink was unclean.
"What poisoned water?" Daenerys laughed. "Aggo and the others have been bathing in the sea for days. Have any of them been poisoned?" She turned to Aggo, who was riding beside her. "Tell her, is the sea poisoned?"
"It is poisoned, Khaleesi," Aggo replied earnestly. "I drank a few mouthfuls and nearly died. Everyone tried it—sea water cannot be drunk. If it cannot be drunk, it must be poisoned."
What kind of logic is this?
Qarth, one of the largest ports in the world, was lined with taverns, warehouses, and gambling dens. Cheap brothels stood next to temples dedicated to strange gods.
Beneath the massive canopy at the docks, traders and customers from every corner of the world bustled about. Thieves, scoundrels, and swindlers mingled freely with the crowd.
Whitebeard Arstan, riding beside Daenerys, explained, "The harbor district is essentially a massive marketplace. It operates around the clock, with goods constantly flowing in and out from both continents. Nearly anything in the world can be found here."
He paused, then sighed. "But it is also a haven where laws and morals hold no sway. Slaves are traded openly, illicit goods are sold without scrutiny. As long as no one questions the source of the goods, you can buy them here for a fraction of their value elsewhere. Do you understand why, Your Grace?"
A few thoughts flashed through Daenerys's mind. Surprised, she said, "Pirates and raiders openly sell their plunder here?"
A faint trace of approval flickered in Whitebeard's melancholy blue eyes. "This is both the trade capital of the world and its most sinful haven."
"Mother of Dragons, Mother of Dragons!"
Daenerys turned her head and saw a gaunt man with dark, gleaming skin and a white linen cloth wrapped around his head like a turban. He was jumping up and down, waving at her enthusiastically from across Ser Jorah.
The man was small and scrawny, his skin coal-black and shining with oil. His eyes, with their prominent whites, stood out starkly against his dark face.
"Mother of Dragons, Mother of Dragons! I have dragon eggs! Do you want to buy them?" he called out in a heavily accented Valyrian.
Hearing the words dragon eggs, Daenerys instinctively reined in her silver mare and gestured for Jorah to let the merchant approach. She asked, "Are you sure you're not deceiving me?"
"How could I dare deceive the Mother of Dragons? Come and see for yourself!" the scrawny man declared confidently. Without waiting for permission, he started tugging her horse toward his stall.
On a crimson woolen blanket, a variety of bottles and jars were displayed, but at the center lay two vibrantly colored stone eggs, wrapped carefully in soft Asshai silk.
The eggs were the size of pineapples, their surfaces covered with intricate, scale-like patterns that shimmered with a glaze-like texture. Sunlight streamed through a latticework canopy above, casting dappled rays that made the eggs glow with a reddish-copper hue.
Daenerys let out a soft sound of intrigue, gracefully dismounting and walking briskly to the stall. She leaned down, picked up one of the eggs from its silk nest, and began inspecting it closely.
"Mother of Dragons, don't let old Baukhan fool you," said an elderly woman at the neighboring stall. Unlike the seated merchant, she stood upright, though her hunched back was weighed down by two strings of pottery-shaped milk jars slung over her shoulders. A rich aroma of goat's milk wafted faintly from the wooden corks sealing them.
The white-skinned, bent-backed Qartheen woman smiled with a gap-toothed grin as she met Daenerys's gaze. "If those were real dragon eggs, this Asshai savage would have already presented them to royalty!"
"You—!" Baukhan, the scrawny merchant, practically jabbed his finger into the old woman's eyes, hopping with rage. "You wretch, you hag, you Kira! I've never wronged you. I even buy your goat's milk every morning. Why slander me now?"
The old woman rolled her eyes and retorted sharply, "I don't want to lose a regular customer, that's all."
"What did you say?"
"I don't want you to be cut in half by the Khaleesi's Dothraki riders for deceiving her," the old woman replied with a mocking laugh. "You fool, do you even know who you're talking to? This is the Mother of Dragons. If there's anyone in the world who can tell a true dragon egg from a fake, it's her."
The elderly woman's sharp wisdom impressed Daenerys.
Baukhan fell silent, his dark face turning a pale, waxy shade. The nearby onlookers nodded in agreement, murmuring among themselves.
"These are indeed dragon eggs," Daenerys declared, her calm statement leaving the old woman stunned.
"What? They're real dragon eggs?" Baukhan himself was no longer composed.
"Dragon eggs! The Mother of Dragons says they're dragon eggs! Baukhan's dragon eggs are genuine!" The nearby merchants erupted in astonishment.
"Your Highness, are you certain?" Whitebeard stepped closer, picking up the other egg and examining it carefully. Even he found it difficult to verify. He had once encountered real dragon eggs in his youth—those of House Targaryen—but even with his expertise, he could not be sure.
"Ha! I told you they're dragon eggs. I wasn't lying!" Baukhan cheered, leaping like a man who had just struck gold. Laughing loudly, he waved to the crowd. "You all saw it! The famous Mother of Dragons, the woman who birthed three dragons, confirmed it—these are dragon eggs!"
"They are indeed dragon eggs," Daenerys repeated with a serene smile. She looked at Baukhan and asked, "If I were to buy them, what would the price be?"
(End of Chapter)
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