Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Your Grace, two groups arrived from the docks. One consists of fire mages from Volantis. The other has seven people, including two dwarves. The middle-aged man leading them introduced himself as 'Ser Jon Connington,' an old acquaintance of Ser Barristan."

"Ha, fire mages from Volantis? Did they give their names? How many are there?"

Dany chuckled.

"There are fifty-four in total, led by Mage Wood and Mage Bogba. They call themselves the 'Twin Flames of Volantis.'"

"Hahaha..." Dany clutched her stomach, laughing until she couldn't catch her breath. "Familiar names, familiar people, familiar style, familiar vibe."

"You know them?" the little black girl asked curiously.

"Old acquaintances," Dany said with a lopsided smile, slumping back in her lounge chair. "Call them up. I haven't seen them in months—I've missed them."

"And that Jon Connington, too. Since he's a knight and knows Ser Barristan, bring him up as well!"

"Wait—Missandei, hold on a moment." Dany looked up at the sky, noticing it was nearly dusk, and stopped Missandei just as she was about to leave. She waved over to Irri and Jhiqui. "Meeting old friends without showing off is like wearing finery in the dark. Go fetch me some corn kernels, eggs, and bacon."

Once the horse-girl handmaids and the little black girl had gone, Dany smiled and turned to the bewildered Green Grace.

"Those fire mages aren't pure of heart. At least half of them are spies from Volantis. I need to put on a little show—make them revere me like a goddess."

"If they're spies, why meet with them at all? Why not just lock them up?"

"Oh, no, I can't do that," Dany waved her hand dismissively, grinning oddly. "It wasn't easy luring them here. They're going to be very useful."

"Then I should leave," said the Green Grace, rising to excuse herself.

In the past, the Great Pyramid's rooftop garden had hosted feasts for the Good Masters—accommodating two to three hundred guests with ease.

Now, with just over fifty fire mages and fewer than ten people in Connington's group, the space still felt roomy.

"Oh, gods!"

"Seven hells!"

As they stepped out of the stairwell and saw the smiling Dragon Queen under the tree canopy behind a long table, several people's faces changed dramatically, crying out.

Well, only three or four actually cried out—Bogba the bony man, Old Black Wood, and the noseless Tyrion.

Maester Halton was clearly shocked but managed to keep quiet.

The others stood there, dumbstruck—awed by the Dragon Queen's youth and beauty, and embarrassed by their companions' outbursts.

"Your Grace, spare us!" Old Wood dropped to his knees, groveling in fear.

"Your Grace, mercy!" Bogba quickly followed, also kneeling in surrender.

"What's wrong with you two?"

The other fire mages looked completely confused.

"Get up, get up. We're all old friends," Dany waved her hand, and two Unsullied immediately stepped forward to help the mages to their feet.

She smiled and said, "I told you, there's a million-gold-coin project waiting for you here. Seeing that you've brought so many people with you, I couldn't be happier!"

"Your Grace, I... I..." Old Wood's dark face flushed red with confusion. "I'm willing to serve you!"

"So am I," Bogba added quickly.

"Good." Dany nodded with a gentle smile.

Seeing the Dragon Queen's friendly demeanor, Old Wood gradually calmed down and said firmly, "Whatever you need, just say the word. I'll carry it out without question!"

"I'll do the same," said Bogba.

"Great." The Dragon Queen smiled again.

The old black man gritted his teeth and added with resolve, "I swear my loyalty to you and sever all ties with Volantis!"

"Me too!" Bogba echoed hurriedly.

"Excellent." The Dragon Queen grinned, showing her teeth.

Having cut off any possibility of divided loyalties, and feeling confident that his long-standing acquaintance gave him an edge with the Queen, Old Wood turned to the confused group of fire mages with a cold gleam in his eye.

"Your Grace, I'm willing to report the spies hidden among our ranks."

"Same here," Bogba quickly added.

"W-What? Spies?!" The fire mages erupted in alarm. "Archmage Wood, what are you talking about?" Several of them turned pale, eyes darting nervously.

"Very good—but there's no rush," Dany waved the crowd closer. "Come, everyone, take a seat. I've got some free time today and decided to cook dinner myself. Perfect timing—you've arrived just in time to try my cooking."

The crowd didn't understand what was going on, but they obediently stepped forward.

The Dragon Queen had her long hair tied back in a bow. She wore short-sleeved silk and loose pants—a simple, breezy outfit.

She stood behind a thick wooden table five or six meters long, covered with bowls and utensils.

Looking closely, one could see corn kernels, rice, eggs, bacon, cleaned scallions, greens, and more.

She really was cooking?

"Irri, bring a few more tables and benches for the masters, Ser Connington, Ser Tyrion, and the others. We've got quite a crowd today."

Dany glanced over the group, then bent down and pulled a red copper bucket from under the table, pouring a bowlful of corn kernels into it.

"Your Grace, you recognized me that day? Ser Barristan is still at the Merchant's House," the little imp touched his missing nose, looking shocked.

"You're truly brave—daring to infiltrate the lion's den for reconnaissance," he added with a flattering tone.

"Heh, Volantis, a lion's den?" Dany gave a mocking glance to the silver-haired, purple-eyed youth watching her with a complicated expression.

"In the two months you were drifting at sea, I went to Lys and burned dozens of Trade Princes. Then I went to Dorne... and saw your niece's nose had been cut off."

"My niece?" The Imp looked puzzled at first—then a moment later, his face went pale in shock. "Myrcella? Who hurt her?"

"Your old man died in a latrine, and the Princess of Dorne thought it was a good opportunity, so she planned to support your niece's claim to the throne. Well, according to Dornish customs, since your eldest nephew is dead, it should be your niece who succeeds him. And then…"

Dany shrugged and said, "You're a veteran—you should understand. In the game of thrones, once you're in, even passively, it's hard to walk away unscathed."

Tyrion pressed his lips together and frowned without speaking.

Interrupted by Tyrion, the Dragon Queen didn't continue bragging about her adventures in Oldtown, King's Landing, the Wall, or Braavos.

Soon, the Unsullied had already returned, carrying stools and a long table.

They quickly set up the table and chairs by the pool and invited the guests to take their seats.

Seating was arranged according to status—the higher one's status, the closer they sat to the Dragon Queen.

Within the fire mage circle, their hierarchy had long been established. The Twin Talents of Volantis were the undisputed leaders, being the ones who organized the entire group.

Everyone quickly found their seats.

As for Clinton's group, the lowly actor Hugo, who had been pointed out by the Dragon Queen and even addressed as "Ser Tyrion," suddenly found himself elevated.

Well then, as a knight, he should be seated accordingly—at least opposite Clinton.

But among their group, the one with the highest status was Young Griff.

Don't even mention leadership—by rights, he should be seated beside the Dragon Queen.

"Sigh… Lord Griff, I'll sit just below you."

Tyrion glanced at the young man with a gloomy expression, sighed, declined the seat arranged by the Unsullied, and quietly moved to a place farther back.

Clinton looked around at the chaotic crowd, sighed internally, and introduced, as the Dragon Queen looked over curiously, "This is my adopted son, Young Griff."

Dany gave a polite smile, but inwardly she was puzzled: I don't even know who you are—how would I know who your adopted son is?

Jon Connington, former Hand of the King under Aerys and the Earl of Griffin's Roost, was indeed a well-known figure in Westeros, and even Dany had heard of him.

But to the general public, the Earl of Griffin's Roost was long thought dead. And there were far too many foreigners sharing the same names… Look, here's another "Jon" with the same name as the main character—it was normal for Dany not to recognize him.

The Dragon Queen placed her hands at the bottom of the copper bucket and smiled at the group of fire mages. "Let's start with some popcorn to whet your appetites."

The fire mages looked at each other in confusion.

Everyone had seen earlier that the bucket was filled with raw corn kernels—how were they supposed to eat that?

Boom! Just as they were wondering, a sharp crack came from the bucket's opening, followed by a burst of red and yellow flames shooting three feet into the air.

"Gods! This… this is elemental combustion, the fire-gathering technique?" Old Wood exclaimed in shock.

"What? This is fire-gathering? Pure fire elemental combustion?"

The fire mages were full of disbelief. They all stood up, tiptoed, craned their necks—eager to stick their heads into the bucket to see for themselves.

"It really is fire element. I can feel an overwhelming surge of magical energy," Borgba said with difficulty, swallowing hard.

"It's just a little fire mage trick," Dany said with a calm, breezy smile.

Crackle!

In the span of a few words, a rapid popping noise began to echo from inside the copper bucket.

Visibly, fluffy white popcorn started piling up from the bottom and even jumped out of the bucket.

"Illy, serve the popcorn to our distinguished guests."

In less than half a minute, the entire bucket of popcorn had popped. The Dragon Queen was quietly proud, but her expression remained casual and her tone light.

"Khaleesi, aren't you going to have some?" the Dothraki handmaiden asked, holding the copper bucket with a puzzled expression.

"Let the guests have it all," Dany said, waving her hand. Then she bent down and grabbed a small handful of corn kernels from the sack beneath the table, her face calm as she stretched out her hand.

"I can do it like this," she said.

Crackle!

The muffled sound of kernels popping came from her pale little fist.

She opened her palm. The golden kernels had turned into steaming white popcorn.

In front of the wide-eyed, jaw-dropped guests, the Dragon Queen stuffed the popcorn into her mouth, puffed out her cheeks, and crunched loudly.

After swallowing, she grabbed another small handful of raw kernels and popped them into her mouth.

"I can do it this way too."

Crackle!

The kernels exploded in her mouth, puffing out her cheeks.

"Ha—" She exhaled a puff of hot air and started chewing immediately.

Clang— Even Jhiqui, who was setting the dishes, was stunned. The porcelain bowl slipped from her hands and shattered on the table.

"I can do this too," the Dragon Queen added. As she spoke, she flicked a single golden kernel into the air with her finger.

There was no obvious sign, though the most magically sensitive among them, Old Wood, faintly sensed a ripple of fire element.

Pop!

The kernel exploded midair. The popcorn floated down and landed in the Dragon Queen's open mouth.

At that moment, Tyrion and the other non-magical folk felt as though a thousand horses had trampled across their minds, and their heads were filled with a chorus of "What the f—!"

At that moment, the fire mages were stunned speechless. They looked at the Dragon Queen with reverence as if she were a god, and with fear as if she were a demon.

Only they—true fire mages—understood the implications of the Dragon Queen's seemingly comical performance.

Only those with true understanding of magic could comprehend the depth of her power and the sheer skill involved—she had already surpassed the limits of ordinary imagination.

Forget the so-called top talents of the new generation, the so-called Twin Talents of Volantis, or the so-called greatest fire mage of Qohor. Before the Dragon Queen, they all shared one title:

Trash.

She wasn't targeting anyone in particular—she was simply showing through action that in front of her, all of them were nothing but trash.

(End of Chapter)

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