Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

Moon Pool.

Inside the purple ship, fifteen Maesters and nine Iron Bank Watchers (including the fat Bessaro) were still seated in a circle, but their postures had noticeably changed.

Three of them remained as before, sitting on high-backed chairs facing the center of the circle.

However, the other twenty-one—including the Chief Maester—had turned their chairs around, backs to the circle's center, facing the window, with veils draped over their faces.

Uh, they weren't death shrouds. No one was dead.

It was simply a form of protest—against the actions of Copernicus and his rebel faction, who had broken their sacred oath.

"Why is it taking so long?" The Chief Maester's veil fluttered slightly with each breath, and his anxious voice emerged from beneath the cloth.

"You know why. King Frego must die tonight, but it's hard for the Purple Guards to make a move on him," sighed another veiled Maester.

"Could something go wrong? Daenerys may be reckless, but she's escaped danger countless times. Not even the trap at the Citadel managed to kill her. Maybe... sigh!" the Chief Maester said worriedly.

Bessaro paused for a moment, his breath rippling his veil, and said, "Last time, the Citadel underestimated her. They thought poison and a crossbow from the adjacent room would suffice, and only assigned a ten-man squad to guard the door.

But no one expected Barristan to have Valyrian steel armor. He forced his way through with Daenerys.

We've learned from that. This time we've deployed two hundred elite soldiers, all armored and armed with crossbows.

Even if both Daenerys and Jellor Dayne were wearing Valyrian armor, even if Jellor had his great-uncle Arthur Dayne's sword skills, they wouldn't survive."

"It's best not to kill her," a Watcher interjected hastily. "We need her secrets—Valyrian High Magic, the secret to hatching dragons, the technique to tame them. We might even indirectly control her four dragons."

"Four dragons! With them, Braavos could rule the world—not just financially, but from the throne itself," he emphasized.

"Don't worry, Copernicus understands the stakes. He'll try his best to capture Daenerys," Bessaro said.

"I'm not afraid of failure. At worst, the woman resists and Copernicus kills her. Then the dragons come for revenge. We've got dragon-slaying crossbows—being a dragonslayer isn't so bad.

The problem is, she didn't follow the plan and go to the Sea King's palace. Instead, she publicly revealed our oath to negotiate. What will the citizens and the world think of us now?" one Maester said.

The Chief Maester fell silent for a moment before saying, "We stick to the original plan. Copernicus, Busby, Charlton, and Johanssen will step forward and form a temporary council, taking full responsibility for the coup.

And we will loudly proclaim that the Dragon Queen murdered Sea King Frego. We must make everyone understand the threat she poses to world peace."

Busby, Charlton, and Johanssen didn't wear veils or turn their backs. Like Copernicus, they had betrayed the council.

Hearing that they were to take the blame for everything, their already pale faces grew grayer. Their mouths opened and closed, but not a single word of protest came out.

It was all part of the script. Since they had accepted their assigned roles, they had no choice but to perform them to the end.

Otherwise, both the director and the audience would be dissatisfied.

"What if we fail?" Bessaro suddenly asked.

"How could we fail?" everyone responded at once.

They spoke over each other, urgently, as though the mere delay in speaking might summon failure upon them.

"I have a bad feeling," Bessaro sighed. "That woman's not stupid. After what happened at the Citadel, she shouldn't be risking herself like this again."

"How did she deal with the Citadel?" the Chief Maester asked with a sly smile.

"She burned it down," said a Maester with a shovel-shaped face.

"No, the Grand Hall of the Citadel was the battlefield, but it wasn't badly damaged. Not many scholars died either—just a dozen or so Maesters and apprentices. Even the towering Hightower remained intact.

And she didn't kill Stannis," the Chief Maester said with a grim smile.

"What do you mean?" the shovel-faced Maester asked in confusion.

"The Citadel rebellion involved the Maesters and the Hightower. If you replaced Daenerys with any other Targaryen, the Citadel, the Hightower, and most of Oldtown would have been reduced to ash by dragonfire.

All she had to do was explain that the Citadel had violated guest rights. Even if her dragons had burned all 200,000 citizens of Oldtown, the lords of the Seven Kingdoms wouldn't call the Targaryens cruel—they'd condemn Oldtown for getting what it deserved.

But Daenerys let her mortal enemies go, practically for free."

"Then there's Stannis and Jon Snow on the Wall. They both have blood feuds with House Targaryen.

All she needed to do was swoop down on dragonback and unleash fire. That would've ended all grudges. But she still didn't strike."

"What does that prove? That she's stupid?" the shovel-faced Maester asked.

"Maybe. But more likely, she's awakened the 'Sacred Blood' of House Targaryen," said the Chief Maester.

"Sacred Blood? I've only ever heard of the 'Mad Blood' and 'Fool's Blood.' Now there's Sacred Blood too?" The shovel-faced Maester was so shocked his veil nearly fell off.

"Have you forgotten about Baelor the Blessed?"

'Baelor the Blessed…' Bessaro murmured softly. After a moment, he said in shock, "You mean Daenerys, like Baelor, is a devout follower of the Seven Gods? That she... she…"

"…wants to convert her enemies with love?" His facial muscles twitched as he forced the words out with great difficulty.

"Strictly speaking, with love and faith!" A glint of cunning flashed in the Chief Maester's eyes as he declared, full of confidence and pride, "There's a saying in Westeros: Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin to decide if they'll be great or mad. Which side do you think Daenerys landed on?"

"Uh, Chief Maester… I must say, I never thought Baelor was great. If 'madness' is like a coin with two faces, two forms of expression, then Baelor and Aerys are just two sides of the same coin.

In essence, there's no difference. Both belong to the 'Mad King' coin." The shovel-faced Maester's mouth twitched as he voiced his dissent.

"You're right," the Chief Maester nodded in agreement. "I've studied House Targaryen for over thirty years in my quest to hatch dragons. And I've concluded: Their bloodline is inscribed with a madness ordinary people can't comprehend."

The so-called "Holy Blood" and "Foolish Blood" are all descendants of "Mad Blood." It is this "Mad Blood" that evolves into all kinds of bizarre personalities.

But there's no need for us to figure out how "Mad Blood" evolved. After all, we're sane people—how could sane people possibly understand madmen?All we need to understand is that Daenerys also carries a "Holy Mad Blood" similar to Saint Baelor. With that, everything she did in Westeros can be explained."

"Hmm, I've studied her actions in Westeros as well. It's hard to understand.The upheaval at the Citadel, wandering the Riverlands, the expedition to the Wall, dueling the White Walkers—none of it reflects the temperament, decisiveness, or ruthlessness of a true monarch.

If it were me, I'd have raided King's Landing straight away, burned the Red Keep to the ground, wiped out the Lannisters, then marched on the Eyrie and ended House Arryn for good.And as for Stannis—I'd make sure to kill him too. If I encountered him, I'd roast him with dragonfire on the spot. What would be the point of letting him survive the winter?

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Sigh. Now I understand—she's like the "Mother" among the Seven Gods. Seems like she caught a case of the 'Holy Mother Daeny' madness," Besallo said with sudden clarity.

"Uh, but when she dealt with the Ghiscari in Slaver's Bay, she was brutal. Not a single Great Master, Wise Master, or Good Master survived once they fell into her hands. How do you explain that?" asked the man with the shoehorn-shaped face.

The Chief Scholar replied, "She does carry the 'Holy Mad Blood,' that's true. But being a 'Mad Saint' doesn't mean being foolish—Saint Baelor wasn't foolish either.

If she hadn't killed those powerful slave masters, how else could she have appeased the people's anger? How else could she have taken control of the three city-states of Slaver's Bay?

And now, look—she's planning to buy up grain on a massive scale, hoping to profit enormously during the Long Night."

"Sigh… The Targaryen family's 'Mad Blood' truly takes many forms. Chief Scholar, your thorough analysis is most impressive!" said Shoehorn Face admiringly.

"Hmph. Otherwise, why would I be the Chief Scholar, and you just a regular one?"The Chief Scholar nodded proudly and said, "So, do you all understand now?Even if there's a one-in-a-billion chance that woman manages to escape death again, we don't need to worry too much.

After all, this is a coup. The Sea King even sacrificed his life for her, and the council has been imprisoned by rebels.

How innocent we are. How innocent Braavos is!If Saint Daeny could spare the Citadel and the Baratheons, why would she target us, the innocent?"

"Well… what about us?" Basbi, now without a veil, finally couldn't hold back.

"Basbi, don't you have any sense of responsibility?" Before the Chief Scholar could speak, another guard shouted, "If you're unwilling to sacrifice for Braavos, why did you even apply to become a scholar? Why join the council?"

Basbi's expression twisted, his mind swirling with a thousand silent curses.

The Chief Scholar consoled him, "Don't worry. I've accounted for every possible scenario. She won't actually escape—"

"The Dragon Queen has escaped!"

"Don't let the Dragon Queen get away!"

Suddenly, a commotion broke out from across the Moon Pool. The shouts made everyone on the ship jump in shock.

"I'll go take a look."Fat Besallo lifted the scarf from his face and ran to the edge of the deck with surprising agility, like a nimble monkey.

Boom-boom-boom!A muffled, thunder-like roar echoed from the distant canal. The water beneath turned red, like a million candles had been lit under the surface.

The river churned like boiling water, white steam rising to cover the surface, splashing high into the air—seven or eight meters.

Amid the steam and the splashing water, a bright red flame column shot up—like a sword, like a blade—ten meters long, piercing from the riverbed straight into the sky.

The River God, wielding a flaming demon blade, slashed rapidly across the water. Waves exploded, steam hissed, and cries echoed from the river and its banks.

BOOM!Another galleon with purple sails and purple hull burst apart, splinters flying as the fire sword sliced through it.

The flaming demon blade cut through the ship's underside like a blowtorch cutting through thin steel.

One strike split it in half. The two halves drifted apart.

The river burned with the broken remains, fire blazing. The crew members who fell into the water were scalded by steam, boiled by the river, or struck by the fiery blade—their screams were ghostly and heartbreaking.

The crowd watching from the banks fled in panic, but nothing could stop the demon god's blade from moving forward.

Forward—BOOM!

The fourth warship was cleaved in two with a single strike.

Yes, the fourth already.

The demon blade under the river moved terrifyingly fast—one strike per ship. After each blow, the flaming sword would vanish for a moment, only to flare up beneath the next ship, rising, piercing, splitting it apart.

"Demon Dragon!" Besallo's teeth chattered. "A demon dragon… under the river!"

"The Demon Dragon is coming!"Seeing the red glow rapidly slicing through the riverbed, the fat man screamed in madness.

(End of Chapter)

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