Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

The Dragon Queen's show of skill was far from over.

When dealing with fire mages who possessed supernatural powers, only absolute strength could earn their sincere submission and cause them to revere her as a goddess.

And Daenerys had always been decisive. Since she had decided to use her magical power to win over the fire mages, she would do it to the utmost.

Simply popping corn clearly wasn't enough.

While her centaur handmaids distributed the popcorn, she set up a steamer, poured in washed rice, and added water.

"Snap!" With a flick of her left fingers, a snap echoed, and a ball of orange flame rose beneath the firewood-less steamer. Within two minutes, the water began to boil, steam billowing upward.

During this time, the Dragon Queen never paused.

With a kitchen knife that moved as fast as lightning, she skinned, deboned, and trimmed the sinew from a cow's hind leg, skewered the meat on an iron spit, and scored the meat with decorative cuts. She then rubbed in sesame oil, salt, and spices.

Next, she set up a grill beside the steamer and began slowly rotating the spit. The air shimmered, and another long tongue of orange-yellow flame appeared, completely devoid of smoke or smell.

Sizzle sizzle sizzle—the flames roasted the meat from the inside out, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

Gulp. The fire mages' eyes widened as they struggled to swallow their saliva.

It wasn't just the smell—though the barbecue did smell incredible—they were even more shocked by the Dragon Queen's... endurance!

They couldn't help but think of Lisbon, the top talent of the younger generation.

Just lighting Tyrion's beard had left him panting and completely drained of mana.

Now compare that to the Dragon Queen: first, she popped a massive tub of corn; then she used fire elements to cook rice; and before the rice was even done steaming, she lit another fire to grill meat.

What kind of realm was this?

"The Dragon Queen is probably the most powerful fire mage in the world," Old Wood said, his voice trembling.

"She's more than that," said the tall and thin Jeep. "I'd wager even those ancient monsters in Asshai don't have her level of magic."

On Bogba's gaunt face shone the light of devotion. He exclaimed in awe, "Her Majesty is the Goddess of Flame herself!"

For a full five minutes, the sweet scent of steamed rice and the rich aroma of grilled meat wafted through the garden.

Then the Dragon Queen personally scooped 61 bowls of rice, her movements as light and fluid as a master swordsman. She quickly sliced the beef into 61 portions and laid them over the sparkling, glistening grains.

She sprinkled chopped green onions and diced chilies on top.

"One bowl of char siu rice," she said with a slight bow. "Forgive the humble fare."

With her right hand outstretched, she smiled and picked up an egg. She cracked it against the table and deftly opened the shell with her left hand, letting the yolk and white fall into her palm.

Sizzle sizzle sizzle...

It was as though the egg had dropped into a searing iron pan. White steam rose and a sharp searing sound filled the air. The side of the egg touching her palm visibly turned golden and crisp.

The smell was incredible.

Gulp. Even Tyrion, Clinton, Young Griff, and the other six "muggles" stared in stunned silence, dazed and awestruck.

She flipped the egg into a bowl and added a sprinkle of pepper.

And thus, a complete serving of char siu rice with fried egg was finished.

Then came the second egg.

She fried each one in her hand with astonishing speed—each portion took no more than ten seconds.

Soon, every fire mage and member of Clinton's party had a bowl of char siu rice and a cup of orange juice.

Whether it was just psychological or not, nearly everyone felt that this bowl of magically prepared rice, personally cooked by the Queen, was unbelievably delicious—sweet, fragrant, and utterly irresistible.

After licking the last grain of rice from his bowl, "Grease Crumbs" Hancock set down his utensils, stepped away from the table, and with a thundering crash, knelt on the ground. His rotund body trembled as he shouted excitedly:

"Your Majesty, I pledge myself to you—unto death!"

"Good." The Dragon Queen nodded with a smile.

At once, a bald middle-aged man stepped forward. He knelt and kowtowed three times before saying, "Your Majesty, I must confess—I am a spy from Volantis. I accepted 200 gold coins from the allied forces to sabotage your wildfire stores."

"Please, punish me!"

With a wave of her hand, an Unsullied immediately stepped forward to help the bald man to his feet.

She comforted him gently, "No great harm has been done yet. You still have a chance to redeem yourself. Jhiqui, go to the treasury and fetch 2,000 gold honors for this archmage."

Thud! The bald man knelt again, bursting into tears.

"Your Majesty, I don't want gold! I only ask for a chance to atone! I swear my loyalty to you, with all that I am!"

"Your Majesty, I must confess—I am also a spy. I was responsible for transmitting your information through raven messages," said another fire mage, stepping forward to kneel and admit his guilt.

"I... hic... I'm the same," said a fifth mage, finishing off the last of his rice and hiccupping. "I confess. I'm a spy. I was spreading false rumors in the city."

"I..."

Within moments, all of the fire mages were kneeling—some confessing their identities, others swearing fealty to the Dragon Queen.

"Ha ha ha!" Daenerys let out three hearty laughs and stepped away from her seat to stand before the kneeling mages. She raised her hands in a gesture of welcome.

"Esteemed Archmages, please rise. From this moment on, I accept your loyalty. You are all members of the Royal Order of Mages.

From now on, there will always be a place for you beside my hearth and my table. From now on, my glory shall be your glory."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am Wood Woz."

"I am Bogba."

"I am Hancock."

"I am Jeep."

"I am…"

"…and I swear allegiance to my sovereign, Queen Daenerys Targaryen—eternal loyalty, unwavering devotion!"

More than fifty fire mages solemnly recited their most resolute oaths in Valyrian, spoken with a regional accent.

"This..." The Imp looked bewildered.

Maester Sai, Septa Lemore, and Connington were all dumbfounded.

Young Griff's eyes widened, and his fists clenched tightly.

The Dragon Queen personally stepped forward and helped each newly sworn follower to their feet, asking their names and offering a few comforting words.

After over an hour of ceremony, as the sky darkened, Daenerys had gained a general understanding of the fire mages' names and magical abilities.

She could gauge their magical strength and meditation level simply by looking into their eyes.

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"I once infiltrated Volantis in disguise and made a promise to Archmage Pogba and Archmage Wood—that anyone who pledges allegiance to Daenerys of Slaver's Bay will receive a reward of one million gold coins."

"A Targaryen's word is as solid as stone!"

Her expression was resolute, and her voice rang with conviction.

With her hands clasped behind her back, Daenerys paced in front of the mages, then smiled faintly and said, "Jhiqui, fifty-four mages, twenty thousand gold coins each as a signing bonus. That's roughly a million."

"Ah!" The fire mages were stunned, unable to believe their ears.

But when they saw the certainty in the Dragon Queen's eyes, they all cheered in delight.

"Seven save us," muttered the Imp, rubbing his forehead. "Even I feel like shouting 'Long live the Queen.' I wonder if she'll accept my loyalty."

Connington cast a glance at Young Griff, his expression grave. He sighed inwardly—this Dragon Queen's methods might not be sophisticated, but they were practical and precise. She seemed like a seasoned player of the game of thrones. Compared to her, young Aegon was still far too green.

The last rays of the sun vanished beneath the western sea, dyeing the sky a deep indigo. A faint moon emerged high above. Along the coast, Astapor was already aglow with lights.

Jhiqui led the fire mages down from the top level of the pyramid.

The Dothraki handmaidens would arrange accommodations for them, and, per the Queen's command, the 20,000 gold coin bonuses would be distributed that very night.

Connington and his six companions remained. They hadn't even formally introduced themselves yet.

Jorah Mormont removed his helmet and pointed at the dwarf standing by the wall admiring the view. He shouted, "Seven hells, the Imp?! Where's your nose? What are you doing here? How dare you show your face here?"

Even in the Dragon Queen's absence from Slaver's Bay, the agricultural reforms had not come to a halt.

Under a three-days-work, one-day-rest schedule, the White Knight led peasants in collective farming efforts.

Keishan had Belwas, Astapor had the Great Bear, and Meereen mostly used Ghis prisoners—whips alone sufficed.

Today was another day for clearing land and planting sweet potatoes. The Great Bear had been working outside the city until sundown and had only just returned.

Well, just like Daenerys, the White Knight had spent his time on the embankments practicing swordsmanship, not planting a single sweet potato sprout.

"You are..." The Imp stared at Mormont for a long while.

Gleaming white-enamel armor, a pure white cloak as bright as a maiden's dreams...

Something clicked in his mind. He exclaimed, "You're that Earl of Bear Island who lost his wife? Looking good—sharp, even. You're doing well for yourself!"

Predictably, Mormont's face darkened.

Seeing this, Tyrion quickly changed the subject. Rubbing his nose, he said, "Hello, Ser Mormont! I lost my nose in the Blackwater. No idea which turtle ended up with it."

Mormont's face grew even darker.

"Your Grace, he is Tyrion Lannister. Don't be deceived—let me kill him!" he shouted toward the Dragon Queen.

"Ahem, Ser Mormont, Her Grace already knows who I am. She won't kill me," the Imp said with a grin.

"Why shouldn't I kill you?" Daenerys asked curiously.

"I'd like to know that myself," Tyrion said, wrinkling his ugly nose. "You invited me to dine. I had beef and eggs. Unless you want to break guest right, you can't kill me now."

Shing! Mormont sheathed his sword with a slight grumble. "Your Grace, why keep a man like him around?"

Clearly, he too knew the Dragon Queen wouldn't kill Tyrion.

Daenerys gazed into the mismatched black and green eyes of the Imp, a strange smile on her lips. "Because Duke Tywin was the Targaryens' most hated enemy.

And you gave him the most humiliating, absurd, and satisfying death his enemies could dream of.

That makes me happy—perhaps even more than exacting vengeance with my own hands."

Tyrion's pupils shrank to pinpoints. His face turned deathly pale. His lips trembled. He wanted to speak, but not a single word came out.

The scene suddenly fell into a deathly silence. Connington and the others looked at the Dragon Queen with a new trace of fear in their eyes.

The timid dwarf girl shrank back, even turned her head away, no longer daring to look at Daenerys. Instead, she cast a pair of worried eyes on Tyrion.

Daenerys seemed unaware of their reactions. She shrugged and said flatly, "What? Shouldn't I be gloating? Shouldn't I applaud?

In the War of the Usurper, Eddard, Robert, and Jon Arryn all had their reasons to rise in rebellion. Only the Lannisters—only Duke Tywin—are beyond forgiveness.

Even lions repay their debts. Shouldn't the wrath of the true dragon burn hotter and strike harder?"

"Blood and fire... you truly are a Targaryen," Tyrion said bitterly.

(End of chapter)

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