Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"What do you mean?" The Grand Wise Master frowned.

The Ragged Prince replied coldly, "Send out all the cavalry to strike. Cut through the enemy's ranks at the city gates and charge north to slaughter the Mother of Dragons' militia and laborers."

"This…" The Grand Wise Master hesitated and turned his gaze toward the Supreme Commander of the Allied Army—the greatest warrior, military strategist, and general of Yunkai—Grazdan mo Ullaraz.

Ah, Grazdan, the so-called greatest warlord of Yunkai, who had been effortlessly crushed by Dany's forces. Yet, his reputation remained intact. He had even studied in New Ghis.

For ten years, he served as an Iron Legion battalion commander. Only after his father's death did he return home to inherit his title and transition into the role of a Grand Wise Master.

His impressive military background earned him recognition as the leader of the allied forces in both Meereen and New Ghis.

After a moment of contemplation, Grazdan spoke: "I've carefully observed the enemy's banners—the Unsullied's white flag, the Mother of Dragons' Guard's 'Wings of Freedom,' and the newly established Royal Guard's red banner. All of them have already passed.

The three dragons haven't gone to Emerald Lake three kilometers to the north. Instead, they flew eastward, over twenty kilometers away, possibly hunting. They've been gone for about an hour and a half.

If we can complete the assault within an hour, we should be safe. If the commander leading the charge is brave enough to delay until the dragons appear and then rush toward the city gates…"

A cold gleam flashed in Grazdan's eyes as he slashed his right hand downward like a blade. "Prepare ballistae near the gates in advance. Perhaps today, we can slaughter those wretched dragons."

The Ragged Prince studied Grazdan in surprise before exclaiming in admiration, "Great minds think alike! Would you be willing to be the warrior who lures the dragons?"

The smug expression on Grazdan's face froze. Damn it! I paid a fortune to hire you mercenaries in Yunkai—wasn't it so you'd be the ones risking your lives?

But he had no choice. Just two weeks ago, he had lost fifty thousand allied troops. He had to atone for that failure.

"No problem." He declared with fighting spirit.

Moments later, the city gates creaked open. Clad in fresh armor, Grazdan led a thousand elite cavalry in a furious charge.

"Kill!" He roared, raising his Valyrian steel scimitar high.

The earth rumbled as their horses thundered forward, kicking up a yellow dust storm that surged toward the enemy column a kilometer away.

In the lazy afternoon sun, the militia riding north toward Yunkai were caught off guard. With a single shout, they frantically whipped their horses and scattered in all directions.

The thousand-strong force of mercenaries and Yellow Cloaks ignored the fleeing militia. They emerged from the east gate, curved in an arc, and slammed directly into the main body of the enemy's column from the south.

"Spread out! Drop the supplies and disperse!" a militia captain shouted.

Thousands of sacks of wheat, bronze pots, and tents were thrown onto the road as mounted riders galloped away in sheer panic. Not a single arrow was loosed—they seemed utterly terrified.

"Do not break formation! Hold steady and cut through their ranks!"

At the spearhead of the formation, Grazdan swung his scimitar high and roared. Seeing the militia dissolve like butter before a hot knife, he felt triumphant.

Never before had Grazdan felt such exhilaration in battle. He could sense his very soul soaring with the charge, the humiliation of his past defeat wiped away. The terrifying roars of dragons would haunt him no more—

"SKREEEEEEEE—"

Suddenly, the mounted "militia" ahead stopped fleeing. Instead, they stood motionless. Then, the nightmare returned. A blood-curdling roar echoed from behind the militia ranks.

"NEIGH—"

The fierce warhorse, Black Dragon—famed for its bravery, even against wolves—suddenly went weak in the knees.

The next moment, Grazdan felt his world spin. Light vanished from his vision, the deafening shouts and the nightmarish dragon's roar all faded. His mind clouded, and he lost consciousness.

Who knew how long had passed?

Grazdan became aware of someone touching his waist.

He wanted to shout—who dared to be so insolent?

But in an instant, reason returned.

He was alive?

Captured?

No—someone was stripping off his armor.

Grazdan cautiously opened his eyes just a sliver and saw two men wearing dragon-emblazoned short-sleeved tunics tugging at his iron boots. Nearby, a pile of naked corpses lay stacked like firewood, the air thick with the stench of blood.

Why hadn't they taken him as a prisoner?

Then he understood. His eyes, barely opened, had been sealed shut by dried blood. His face felt numb—coated in a thick scab.

Some unlucky soul's blood had drenched him, making the battlefield scavengers assume he was dead.

Fantastic!

No—wait. They were taking off his boots. Once they stripped away his armor, they would reach his undergarments and soon realize he was still warm—still breathing.

With that thought, his mind sharpened.

Just as the two men yanked his boots off like uprooting carrots, he suddenly pulled his legs back.

In their moment of shock, both were met with his feet—kicking their faces like twin battering rams.

Using the momentum, Grazdan pushed himself off the ground. Without sparing a glance at the dazed scavengers, he bolted toward a nearby grazing yellow warhorse.

"Enemy feigning death!" A nearby militia soldier shouted.

Grazdan had already noticed there were more than just two scavengers. Killing them all was impossible.

Luck was on his side. Even as a dozen mounted scouts fired arrows at him like shooting stars, not a single one struck a vital point.

Well… he took three or four arrows to the legs and rear, and even his horse was struck seven or eight times—but instead of collapsing, it only ran faster.

After galloping for just four or five miles, he spotted the city walls.

But he dared not call out.

Dusk had just passed, and the dim light made it hard for the soldiers atop the walls to recognize him. Worse, he saw glints of iron arrowheads reflecting in the torchlight.

In a moment of inspiration, he flipped his body and clung to the horse's belly.

The next second—

"WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!"

Arrows rained down from the city walls.

His horse neighed in agony and collapsed.

The mounted scouts behind him cursed but pulled back.

Grazdan remained still, hidden beneath the fallen horse, waiting.

Rescued!

Grazdan, who was trapped under his horse, let out a sigh of relief.

Nightfall.

Inside a wooden palace on a low hill, five kilometers north of Yunkai.

"What? Grazdan was among that cavalry unit, and he still managed to escape?" Dany was furious upon hearing the report from the horseman.

The afternoon's operation was meant to lure the enemy, vent some frustration, and intimidate the Yunkai slave masters. And what could be more effective than taking the head of the Ghiscari coalition's commander?

"Grazdan has such distinctive features. Were you all blind?"

"Khaleesi, you can't blame us for this. If we hadn't interrogated the prisoners, I wouldn't have even known that bastard left the city." The horseman, Qhono, protested loudly.

Qhono was the same horseman who had once provoked Jorah outside Drogo's tent.

Back then, Dany had defied tradition by sparing his life instead of letting him lie on the ground waiting for death.

As a result, he had joined her khalasar—Qhono originally belonged to Pono's tribe.

Aside from the Bloodriders, the capable horsemen of her khalasar were given important roles. Qhono, for instance, had become one of the militia captains.

"The Wise Master has such long black hair and wears such a tall helmet. How could he not stand out?" Dany snapped back.

"He didn't wear the tall helmet," Qhono shouted.

Only the straightforward horsemen still dared to raise their voices at Dany.

Dany waved her hand dismissively. "Bring me the highest-ranking prisoner."

A short while later, two Unsullied standing guard at the entrance lifted the leather door curtain. Red-haired Lyra personally escorted a golden-haired prisoner inside, accompanied by a guardsman.

Under the bright torchlight, Dany saw that the prisoner was a tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed Westerner.

Stripped of armor, they wore a white shirt and black trousers.

It was difficult to determine their gender. They were well-built, standing over 1.8 meters tall, with somewhat feminine curves at the chest and hips. Their long, disheveled golden hair fell over their face, but their large, square jaw remained exposed.

Their nose looked as if it had been chewed by a dog, with torn flesh revealing two dark, gaping nostrils. Deep, cross-shaped scars ran across both cheeks, and their icy blue eyes were filled with an unyielding coldness.

They seemed to be missing their ears as well.

"Who is this?" Dany looked at Lyra.

"The interrogation officer of the Windblown, 'Pretty' Meris," the red-haired knight said with a complicated expression.

Dany frowned, thinking of "Beauty" Brienne. It seemed that the word "pretty," cherished by many women, had become a blade that cut deep into those considered ugly.

"A friend of yours?" she asked.

"Not exactly a friend. She's from Westeros, though. We've met a few times, just acquaintances. She's difficult to talk to," Lyra said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, a fellow countrywoman," Dany nodded and smiled. "Unlock Meris's shackles."

Glancing at the armored queen, Lyra and the guardsman released Meris from her chains.

"What happened with Grazdan?"

Meris rubbed her wrists and looked at Dany indifferently. "He was the cavalry commander. When he escaped from Astapor, he cut off his long, upright hair and removed his tokhar robes to avoid drawing attention. Since he was dressed like us in armor, your people didn't recognize him."

Her voice was hoarse but not as rough as her appearance suggested.

Perhaps because of her role as an interrogator, she understood exactly what Dany wanted to know and answered matter-of-factly.

"I see." Now that she understood Grazdan's situation, Dany asked, "Do you think your leader, the Rags Prince, would consider joining me?"

She was just as direct.

"Our commander only sides with the victors. He doesn't believe you can win."

After speaking, Meris glanced at Lyra and sneered. "What about your Rose Company?"

"There is no Rose Company anymore. Jon and I are now knights under the Queen's banner—official knights!" Lyra said proudly.

"I mean, have you considered the consequences? If the Dragon Queen falls, the Rose Company will be truly finished." Meris scoffed.

"Fall?" Lyra smiled faintly. "We have Yunkai surrounded. You don't even dare to leave the city gates. Who do you think will fall?"

"The war isn't just about Yunkai, or even Slaver's Bay. The Dragon Queen is at odds with the entire world." Meris sighed.

"We'll take it one step at a time." Dany raised her hand, ending the conversation.

The carefree Lyra may not have noticed, but Dany realized that the Windblown's interrogator was cold and calculating, clearly probing for weaknesses.

"Meris, tell me—how should I deal with your group of prisoners?" Then she turned to Lyra. "What are the casualty numbers?"

"We lost thirty soldiers, while the enemy lost three hundred. Seven hundred were captured—three hundred mercenaries and four hundred Yellow Sashes. Aside from the dead and disabled, we also gained over nine hundred fine horses," the red-haired knight reported.

Dany nodded and looked at "Pretty" Meris. "Have you decided?"

"I believe our commander would offer you a hefty ransom."

Clearly, the scarred woman had no intention of switching sides.

Dany's eyes flickered with thought, but her expression remained calm. "Very well. Tomorrow afternoon, have the Windblown send an envoy to negotiate with me. If the price is right, I will release you after the war."

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09