Daenerys's eyes sparkled as she asked, "Captain, how far is it from Qarth to King's Landing, and how long does the journey typically take?"
The black captain, assuming she intended to return to Westeros on his *Laurel Wind*, considered for a moment before replying, "Your Majesty, you must understand, we are merchants. We can't simply sail directly to King's Landing. Along the way, we'll likely stop multiple times in Slaver's Bay and the Free Trade Cities.
We sell our Far Eastern goods at high prices, then buy local specialties at low prices, before moving on to the next city and repeating the process.
This way, a merchant's profits snowball rapidly.
Thus, the journey from Qarth back to King's Landing could take a year and a half, or even longer.
Moreover, Qarth isn't my final destination. My ship will traverse the Qarth Strait and circumnavigate the Jade Sea along the trade routes. This will extend the journey even further—the next time we reach the Sunset Sea, it will likely be three years from now.
Assuming I don't end up at the bottom of the sea, of course."
"If we didn't stop to trade and instead sped directly to King's Landing, how long would that take?" Daenerys pressed.
"Even if we don't trade, we'd still have to resupply food and water mid-journey and allow the crew to rest. That would take at least three to four months, and that's assuming we don't run into any storms."
Daenerys nodded and thanked him. "You've brought me precious news. I wish you fair winds and prosperous trade."
"I should be thanking you, Your Majesty. You've bestowed upon me the most generous reward." The captain's eyes gleamed.
"Oh? What reward?" Daenerys asked.
"Dragons!" He stared intently at the dragon lying at Daenerys's side, gnawing on a bone. "I've seen a True Dragon. This is the most miraculous moment of my life."
"I have more rewards for you," Daenerys said with a smile, beckoning him closer. "Come and touch them."
"This..." Kuhuru was both thrilled and terrified. He stood up, took three steps forward, then two steps back, hesitating in his tracks, his tension palpable. "Is it really allowed? Won't they bite me? Won't they breathe fire at me?"
"They won't. I am the Mother of Dragons. They all obey me," Daenerys reassured him.
The black captain, now drenched in sweat, shuffled closer, his eyes questioning as he looked at Daenerys.
"I'll grant you the highest honor," Daenerys said, pointing to Big Black in front of her. "You may touch the fiercest one—him, Black Diamond."
If he dared touch the White Dragon or the Green Dragon, a catastrophe would unfold that even she couldn't predict.
Yet she could never admit to others that she couldn't control the dragons.
Instead, Daenerys wanted everyone to believe she was the true Mother of Dragons, perfectly capable of commanding her dragon children.
This way, when people revered the dragons, they would also revere her.
It also served to deter ambitious schemers from thinking, "If I kill that woman, I can claim the dragons for myself."
In truth, the Green Dragon and the White Dragon were highly vulnerable to being stolen.
The prophecy foretold that dragons would have three heads.
Daenerys was only one of them.
Over three and a half months had passed. Big Black had grown to the size of an adult German Shepherd, his torso already as thick as his own leg. When he spread his wings, they could cover her entire bed.
Since arriving in Qarth, Daenerys dared not let them fly freely. For days, iron chains as thick as her wrist had bound their necks.
To soothe their restless moods, she had to feed them endlessly.
Now, Big Black lay sprawled on the marble floor, gnawing on a charred bison thigh bone.
"Big Black, don't hurt him. He admires you greatly and wants to touch you," Daenerys said, relaying her message to Big Black while gesturing for Kuhuru to approach.
The man's face was etched with longing, yet he cowered back, paralyzed by fear.
Finally, after Daenerys's repeated encouragement, he trembled as he crept closer to the black dragon. He extended his trembling right hand, lightly brushed Big Black's wing, and snatched it back as if shocked.
Big Black ignored him, continuing to suck the marrow from the bone.
Emboldened, the captain reached out again, stroking the dragon's back with a touch as light as a falling feather.
"Wow, it's just like the legends say! True Dragon scales are searing hot. Only a True Dragon can tame a True Dragon," Kuhuru said, his dark face flushed with excitement.
"You've heard many legends about True Dragons?" Daenerys asked with a smile.
The black captain stroked the dragon for only a moment before retreating several steps, standing with his hands at his sides, his demeanor even more respectful than before.
"I've heard Maesters at the Citadel in Oldtown mention dragons many times," he said. "They say only those with the True Dragon blood of the Targaryen family can subdue Great Dragons. Others can't even withstand the heat they radiate."
At the time, I didn't believe it—how could an animal's temperature be so high that a rider couldn't bear it?
*At most, you'd just add a saddle.*
But today I understood: if a Great Dragon grew to Balerion's size, even a saddle couldn't shield you from its furnace-like heat.
Though the Maesters may consider Great Dragons little more than wild beasts with limited intelligence, they remain the most legendary creatures in all the world.
"The Maesters even know how intelligent Great Dragons are? They've truly delved deep into their study," Daenerys said, her curiosity piqued.
"If they don't even research Great Dragons—the marvels of the world—what purpose do the Maesters serve?" Kuhuru asked, his voice complex and philosophical.
"Did the Maesters ever determine Balerion's level of intelligence?" Daenerys asked.
Before the captain could answer, Jorah spoke up. "My Maester told me he had the intelligence of a seven or eight-year-old child."
"Indeed, Balerion possessed greater intelligence than other Great Dragons," Kuhuru confirmed.
"Heh." Daenerys chuckled softly. Looking down at Big Black, she said, "Mr. Kuhuru has gifted me three barrels of wine. You should paint him a picture in return."
"Draw?" Kuhuru looked bewildered.
Without Daenerys's command, Lys the handmaiden immediately brought over a large wooden tray bearing a rolled-up parchment and a small bowl of ink.
The handmaiden showed no fear of Big Black. She knelt beside him, unrolled the meter-long, half-meter-wide parchment, and pressed down the edges with paperweights.
Then, she placed the porcelain bowl of ink to the lower-left of the parchment.
Big Black glanced at Kuhuru before extending his right claw. Like humans, dragons have five fingers.
He clenched his other four claws into a fist. After dipping his dagger-sharp index finger into the ink, he began to "paint" like a dragon in flight. Lines rapidly appeared on the snow-white parchment.
At first, the lines seemed chaotic, like a child's random scribbles. Kuhuru, who had expected little, felt no disappointment at this predictable outcome. *At least it didn't just press its claw prints on the paper,* he thought.
But as the minutes passed, he began to perceive something different.
Lines of varying thickness and depth gradually outlined one, then two figures. Among them...
"By the gods, I'm not hallucinating," he gasped, his mouth gaping wide enough to swallow a goose egg. "This is me... me talking with Your Majesty. Even the sheer curtains by the palace window seem to carry the breeze. This..."
"Even the court painter of Braavos couldn't match this," Kuhuru said, swallowing hard. His gaze toward Big Black was no longer one of awe, but of pure reverence, devoid of fear.
In his heart, the black dragon before him had been deified, possessing a will akin to a deity's, incapable of harming others like a wild beast.
In truth, he was overthinking. While Big Black's intelligence might be relatively high, it still fell far short of that of an eight or nine-year-old child, let alone a deity.
At this point, Big Black could even perform simple arithmetic. If Daenerys asked Kuhuru to solve a few addition and subtraction problems within 100, Big Black could likely answer them—by scratching the answers into the floor with his claws. But that was the extent of it; it paled in comparison to the breathtaking impact of a live painting of the "Queen's Audience."
It was during art class that Daenerys unexpectedly and astonishingly discovered the dragon's spatial perception gave him an extraordinary advantage in drawing.
Anyone who has taken a drawing class knows that the most crucial skill is the three-dimensional analysis of an object's structure.
Why did Leonardo da Vinci constantly draw eggs from different angles?
To cultivate a "sense of form," of course! And the black dragon, born with innate spatial talent, saw things with a completeness far beyond human perception.
Kuhuru left, clutching the parchment, his expression dazed. The sights and sounds of the day had shattered his worldview.
The visit of the captain of the *Laurel Wind* set a precedent for ordinary visitors. Merchants from around the world began to converge, first as a trickle, then as an overwhelming flood, their numbers growing at an unimaginable rate.
The merchant captains brought lace from Myr, cases of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragon crystals from Asshai, and even bags of silver coins from poorer traveling merchants.
Beyond the merchants came a host of artisans, wandering poets, and singers.
Silversmiths presented rings and necklaces. Blacksmiths, taking measurements of Daenerys's figure and arm length, forged her a personalized Arakh and a two-handed sword.
Dyers and weavers gifted her vibrant fabrics, the richness of the colors making her marvel at the ingenuity of the ancients.
Soon, countless tailors swarmed the palace, volunteering to stitch her the most exquisite garments in the world.
Flute players serenaded her, acrobats performed to amuse her, and conjurers demonstrated their tricks.
Two dwarves, riding a sow and a large dog, staged a jousting match, mimicking Westerosi knights.
A young Volantene man with blue eyes and blonde hair pleaded with Daenerys to take him as a personal attendant. He promised to write poems about her that would be sung for centuries to come.
Throughout their conversation, the man repeatedly hinted at his mastery of the "Seven Spring Moans" of Kaiyuan City.
Unable to stand his leering gaze, Daenerys ordered her Bloodriders to throw him out.
Later, even the Jogos Nhai from north of Yi Ti arrived, presenting Daenerys with a black and white zebra.
Ah, Yi Ti—the Great Celestial Empire of the *Ice and Fire* world.
For easier understanding, you can think of it this way: Westeros = Britain, the Ghis city-states of Slaver's Bay = Ancient Egypt, the western continent of Essos = Europe, the Dothraki Sea = Russia, the Dothraki = Cossacks, Qarth = Suez, Yi Ti = the Great Celestial Empire, and the Jogos Nhai = the nomadic tribes north of the Celestial Empire.
Like most Western writers, those who write about my Great Celestial Empire... *A Song of Ice and Fire* isn't too harsh, but Yi Ti is far too small, while Westeros is far too large.
Anyway, I've gotten sidetracked.
Daenerys invited the two Jogos Nhai to stay, and they accepted with overwhelming gratitude.
During the night's feast, she told them, "Like the Dothraki, you are warriors of the horse. I wish to learn from you both the wisdom of leading a tribe."
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(End of Chapter)