Chapter 118: Blood Boiling
Early the next morning, Jhiqui began helping Daenerys bathe and dress. This would be the first time Daenerys attended a grand public event as queen, so every detail had to be perfect.
A special white linen ceremonial dress had been prepared for the occasion, designed in the traditional Meereenese style. Wearing it, however, was rather complicated.
Golden fringes and tassels wrapped around the waist, chest, and shoulders. Jhiqui had practiced several times with the wives of Meereen's Great Masters before finally learning how to arrange the garments properly.
Though Daenerys felt extremely uncomfortable in such attire, she knew she had to follow Meereen's ancient traditions if she wanted to gain recognition from the former slave-owning elites of Slaver's Bay.
After spending a considerable amount of time dressing and arranging her appearance, Jhiqui brought over Daenerys's queen's crown.
It was a magnificent circlet forged from gold, ivory, and emerald, shaped into the form of a three-headed dragon.
The crown had been crafted for Daenerys by the royal artisans of Qarth, yet she had never worn it before. Today, however, as she attended the arena games at the invitation of Meereen's nobles, she finally chose to place it upon her head.
The Meereen fighting pit stood on the western side of the city—a massive circular structure covering an enormous area.
By the time Daenerys and her entourage arrived, the arena was already filled to capacity. Tens of thousands of spectators packed the stands, leaving hardly an empty seat.
Among them were not only the people of Slaver's Bay, but also nobles and merchants from across the known world.
Other cities possessed arenas or fighting pits as well, yet none rivaled the scale or reputation of Meereen's. Some people had traveled thousands of miles just to witness the spectacle, seeking thrills and release in the roar of the crowd.
As Daenerys entered the arena, the deafening shouts of the spectators crashed over her like waves.
She felt deeply uncomfortable.
Maintaining a stiff expression, she took her seat on the central viewing platform alongside her advisors.
Not long after she sat down, a man dressed in lavish clothing entered the arena floor. His hair and beard were carefully groomed, every strand perfectly arranged—the unmistakable appearance of the arena's master of ceremonies.
Stopping at the center of the arena, he raised his voice and formally introduced the honored guest of the day to the roaring crowd.
Queen Daenerys.
Most of the people from Slaver's Bay had already seen Daenerys before, but the nobles and merchants who had traveled from distant lands were seeing the queen for the first time.
They had long heard stories about a woman descended from the Valyrian Freehold—the last of House Targaryen—who had liberated Slaver's Bay and shattered the slave masters' rule that had lasted for centuries.
Many of them had come not only to witness Meereen's end-of-month championship in the fighting pits, but also to see the Targaryen queen herself—and her three dragons.
They wanted to behold with their own eyes the creatures that had vanished from the world for more than a hundred years.
Yet to their disappointment, they saw neither of the two great dragons that often circled above Meereen, nor the small dragon that usually perched on the queen's shoulder. Their enthusiasm for the games faded somewhat.
After the arena master finished introducing Queen Daenerys, the matches officially began.
The first fighters to enter the arena were a Dothraki screaming warrior wielding an arakh and a heavily armored warrior carrying a spear and shield.
The moment the Dothraki stepped onto the sand, he immediately caught the attention of Daenerys and her two bloodriders. Even Daario—who had recently returned from Yunkai—leaned forward with interest.
Daario himself had once fought in Meereen's arenas and had even won a monthly championship. His weapon of choice had also been the arakh.
When he first learned martial combat, he had tried swords and spears, but none suited him. Only after watching a Dothraki warrior fight in the arena had he found the weapon that truly fit him—the curved arakh.
With it, he had won battle after battle, cutting down countless opponents.
Seeing that the first contestant was a Dothraki, Tyrion couldn't help glancing at Daenerys as she watched the match.
Clearly, the Great Masters had taken great care in organizing this championship in honor of the queen. Knowing she had once been khaleesi of the largest khalasar on the Dothraki Sea, they had deliberately arranged for a Dothraki fighter to compete.
Though Dothraki warriors were most formidable on horseback, their skill on foot was far from weak.
Facing the heavily armored spearman, the Dothraki fighter used his agility to its fullest, circling around the man's flank. Each time he found an opening, the curved arakh flashed, striking the spearman again and again.
The two fighters traded blows. The Dothraki warrior took a hit from the spear, but it missed any vital point. Meanwhile, the spearman suffered repeated cuts from the arakh. After several exchanges, his helmet was knocked away—and in the next instant, the Dothraki warrior swept his blade across the man's neck.
The head flew into the air. Blood sprayed upward like a crimson fountain.
The crowd exploded.
Excited howls, furious shouts, and vulgar curses filled the arena. One woman in the stands even tore off her upper garment and waved it wildly, completely ignoring the countless eyes staring at her.
Seeing the Dothraki claim victory, Rakharo and Aggo shouted loudly in celebration, cheering for their fellow tribesman.
Daario watched with equal excitement. The victory reminded him vividly of the time he himself had claimed the monthly championship.
Daenerys, though clearly uncomfortable watching the spearman's head severed so brutally, felt a slight sense of relief.
The Dothraki warrior's methods were undeniably savage—but she had still hoped he would win.
After the Dothraki left the arena, three more pairs of fighters entered one after another.
Some wielded greatswords with both hands. Others fought with spears and single-handed blades. Every match ended the same way—with death.
One fighter was stabbed through the chest. Another had his throat slit. The most gruesome death came when a man wielding a massive two-handed sword nearly cleaved his opponent in half.
After the three victors departed, the arena master returned with the four surviving champions and announced the start of the final match.
It would be a free-for-all melee.
Whoever survived until the end would be crowned the monthly champion and receive a lavish reward.
After watching four people die one after another, Daenerys was already struggling to remain seated. When she heard the rules of the final match, she felt even more uneasy—but she forced herself to stay.
Looking at the twisted faces of the crowd in the circular arena, listening to their excited howls, curses, and roars, Daenerys could not understand why they loved such bloody spectacles.
She glanced at her advisors.
Jorah and Tyrion both seemed uncomfortable with the brutality of the fights. Missandei looked much the same as Daenerys herself.
But the two Dothraki bloodriders, who had always viewed life and death lightly, were filled with excitement. They looked as though they wished they could leap into the arena themselves.
Daario also watched eagerly, clearly itching for battle.
What puzzled Daenerys even more was Yara Greyjoy. Though also a woman, she seemed thoroughly thrilled by the violence. It reminded Daenerys of the Ironborn saying: "What is dead may never die—what is taken is better than what is earned." Clearly, Yara had done plenty of raiding in her life.
As the melee continued, two more fighters fell—including the Dothraki warrior who had won the first match.
Seeing him die almost made Daenerys unable to endure the rest of the spectacle.
Just as the final two fighters in the arena finished their duel and a winner was decided, an Unsullied guard responsible for the outer perimeter suddenly ran toward Daenerys's viewing platform.
Grey Worm, standing alert behind her, immediately sensed something was wrong.
He rushed forward to meet the soldier.
After hearing the report, his expression changed instantly.
Without hesitation, he began summoning the nearby Unsullied to gather around Queen Daenerys.