A few days ago, Daenerys visited the Temple of Memory to research the history of Qarth.
From thick parchment books, she obtained three crucial pieces of information: First, a world map centered on Qarth, revealing the global scope of this world. Second, her suspicions about White Cloud City were confirmed.
Before Valyria's destruction, the Slaver's Bay region was connected to Valyria's major city-states by the Valyrian Road.
The Valyrian Road was a monolithic stone highway, forged through magic and molten rock, even more durable and wider than modern highways. Combined with the Norne River Basin on the Western Continent, it nearly linked all the city-states together.
*To prosper, build roads first.*
There was no safer or faster passage than the Valyrian Road. Merchants often took routes like "Far East—Jade Sea—Qarth—White Cloud City—Slaver's Bay—Valyrian Road—the world," which is why desert wonders like White Cloud City could exist.
Daenerys had been slightly mistaken. The dry riverbed she had seen was not natural but an artificial river.
The Valyrians had slaves dig an artificial river from the source of the Rhoyne River, a channel nearly a thousand kilometers long that passed through two White Cities before ending at the third.
Over three hundred years ago, Valyria was destroyed in the Great Cataclysm. The entire Land of the Long Summer was shrouded in a bizarre curse, and the Valyrian Road, stretching from Slaver's Bay to Volantis, became a demon-haunted path feared by all.
Thus, the Silk Road, which had connected east and west for millennia, came to an end. Merchants could only bypass Volantis by sea, taking routes to Qarth.
The White Cities lost their purpose, and the river channels, which had required constant maintenance by vast labor forces every few years, gradually dried up.
In less than a century, the White Cities, weakened to their core, fell to the passing Horsemen.
Ah, but back to the matter at hand. The third piece of information Daenerys obtained from the Temple of Memory was related to Valyria.
If the Valyrian Dragonlords could enslave people all the way to the Jogos Nhai Plains in the Far East, how could they have overlooked Qarth, right next door?
On the day the great dragons descended upon the city, the ancient Qarth royal family was annihilated, leaving only a princess to become the wife of a Valyrian Dragonlord. These two were the ancestors of the royal family that now stood before Daenerys.
Daenerys guessed that the Qarth royal family must be both covetous of her dragons and deeply wary of them.
As the Mother of Dragons, she had the power to become the ancestor of the next Qarth royal family, just as the Dragonlord had done in the past.
So, Daenerys turned to the royal family seated at the head of the hall and pleaded, "Great rulers of the Immortal City of Qarth, I implore you to lend me a fleet so I may return to the homeland I have yearned for day and night. The people of Westeros will be forever grateful to you for bringing back their queen."
As she finished speaking, she began to weep, tears streaming down her face.
*Quarthian onions are truly potent!*
The situation grew awkward. Her soft sobs echoed in the vast, empty hall—too spacious, too silent. No one responded.
"Waaah..." Perhaps the royals found the awkward silence unbearable. A whimpering sob rose from the high platform.
It was that same stooge.
Windro, the man who had taken 777 gold Hui Coins from Daenerys.
"Daenerys, your words are deeply moving. Your emotions have touched me profoundly," he said, wiping away his own tears.
Daenerys's eyes widened in anticipation. *If he could just give me dozens of warships, that would be fantastic.*
"But I am devoted to music and have no interest in business, unlike the Thirteen Great Masters, each of whom commands vast fleets. Though I am as wealthy as a king, I lack the large sea vessels you require."
Daenerys's heart sank. *You bastard! You claim to be as wealthy as a king, yet you're so stingy.*
"Khaleesi, your attire, your manners, the way you speak—it all moves me deeply," another bribe-taking royal, known as "Elegant Aegon," replied in a tearful tone, his refusal veiled in poetic language. "I am a royal, but I am first a poet. I wish to compose a poem about your plight."
With that, he began reciting a poem in rhythmic High Valyrian, tears streaming down his face.
The poem told the story of the last princess of an ancient kingdom, who endured countless hardships only to be blessed with the support of her people, overthrow the Usurper, marry a valiant prince, and rise to become a legendary queen.
*If I can't send a fleet to help Daenerys reclaim her throne, at least I can fulfill her dream this way!*
"Waaah, how touching! I too wish you success, Your Majesty, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." Many spoke up for the first time—ah, to refuse.
Some, following the example of Elegant Aegon, declined with polite words, while others remained silent, their refusal unspoken.
At some point, the portly steward, who had been standing quietly at the lower left corner of the steps with his hands clasped, suddenly shifted several steps toward the center. He didn't disturb the royal family on the five-meter-high platform, but he managed to catch Daenerys's eye.
Daenerys noticed him subtly gesturing, signaling that today's petition session was over.
*What? It's already over?*
*Even if they didn't send warships, shouldn't they at least offer some return gift?*
She had spent over ten thousand Hui Coins on bribes and gifts. To raise the funds, she had even sold most of the presents given by visitors.
*These Qarth royal brutes are truly something else! They have no regard for guest etiquette and are utterly stingy!*
Daenerys cursed the royal family's ancestors through and through in her mind, but on her face, she maintained a sorrowful expression, wiping away tears as she thanked the royal family before politely requesting to take her leave.
After exiting the palace, she waited another hour in the training yard of the side hall. As dusk settled, her three dragons landed beside her. She fastened their collars back on, and her retinue followed the path they had taken earlier, leaving the Hall of a Thousand Seats.
When Daenerys had arrived by oxcart at noon, the sun had blazed high in the sky, making the streets nearly deserted due to the sweltering heat. Now, as dusk approached, the wide thoroughfares were choked with a dense, shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
Ahead, Jhoggo was forced to crack his whip in the air with sharp *cracks* as he shouted loudly from horseback, "Make way! You milk-suckers, clear the road! Make way for the Mother of Dragons!"
But his clumsy High Valyrian only drew curious glances from the crowd, doing nothing to ease the congestion. The oxcart could only inch forward, step by step.
The great merchant Xaro seemed unperturbed, leaning casually against the padded backrest of his couch, which was covered in cool *mahjong* mats. He poured ruby-red wine into a pair of matching jade and gold goblets and steadily offered one to Daenerys across from him. "My light of love," he said, "I see your swollen eyes filled with deep disappointment. Did they refuse you?"
Daenerys took the goblet and gulped down more than half of it. "Your eyes see through to the heart of things," she replied. "Yes, the Qarth royal family rejected me without mercy."
"Or rather," she continued, "they never intended to help me at all. They summoned me purely out of curiosity about dragons and their own boredom."
Xaro showed no surprise at her words. Pouring himself wine, he casually asked, "What did they say?"
"Windro claimed he had no ship and couldn't help me. 'Elegant Aegon' wept and recited a poem for me, while Mathos, who took 500 Hui Coins, didn't even bother to refuse. I sighed. 'Could I ask Ser Jorah to demand the money back?'"
"Ah, these Quarthians are utterly untrustworthy," Xaro scoffed. "Dishonest people can't survive in the business world, yet Qarth is the greatest trading hub. That's why the royal family's power continues to wane and their reputation grows worse." He then turned to Daenerys, his tone becoming serious. "Do not mention reclaiming the gifts again. Unless you want the Grief Guest to sneak into my palace one night and murder you while you sleep."
Daenerys nodded at the mention of the "Grief Guest" and dropped the matter of demanding the money back from Mathos.
Beyond their tendency to weep at the slightest provocation and consider tears a sign of civility, Quarthians had another trait: excessive politeness.
Even Quarthian assassins would politely inform their victims, "I am sorry," before killing them. This historical assassin guild was world-renowned under the name "Grief Guest."
*Hmm, self-important courtesy.* The encounter in the Hall of a Thousand Seats this afternoon had done little to convince Daenerys of the Quarthians' politeness.
"Ah, my love, don't be too disheartened. Your experience today is far from unique," Xaro said, spreading his arms wide and resting them on the back of the soft couch. He gently swirled the wine in the goblet held between his right index and middle finger. "There's a Quarthian saying: asking the royal family for money is harder than milking the stone bulls of Pharos."
"Do you know Pharos? An island in the Jade Sea where people worship stone bulls. Isn't that peculiar?
"If you'd marry me, my luxurious yacht could take you there to explore the local sights. In fact, my merchant caravans travel throughout the Jade Sea; you could go anywhere your heart desires.
"We could journey to Yi Ti, seek out the City of Dreams mentioned by poets, or visit the Jogos Nhai Plains and drink the wine of wisdom from the skulls of dead men."
"I'm sailing for Westeros to drink the wine of vengeance from the Usurper's skull. Why not join me in King's Landing? The Sunset Continent's landscapes are more beautiful and mysterious than the Jade Sea," Daenerys said, winking at him with a mischievous smile. "Besides the awe-inspiring Great Wall Beyond the Wall, I hear there are Others in the far north!"
"Do you know about the Others? Those terrifying creatures that could bring eternal night to the world? They're far more interesting than that ridiculous stone bull you keep going on about!"
"Let the Others come. Even eternal night wouldn't be more chilling than being rejected by you again." The fat man wiped his face, somehow squeezing a few more tears from his eyes.
*Indeed, every Quarthian can weep under any circumstances.*
"I've told you many times, I'm a merchant. All merchants are pacifists. War is the killer of stable trade. We may hope for war to break out elsewhere, but we never participate in it ourselves.
Besides, I don't understand what's so great about that Iron Throne in King's Landing. I've heard it was forged by your ancestors from thousands of swords—it's cold, hard, and sharp. A veritable iron monster!
Aren't you afraid those jagged spikes will tear your toned buttocks apart?" The merchant refused Daenerys once more.
*Boom!*
On the street outside the carriage, countless citizens suddenly roared in unison, their massive wave of sound threatening to overturn the ox-drawn carriage Daenerys was riding in.
*Creak—* The carriage came to an abrupt halt.
"What's happening?" Daenerys shouted through the gauze curtain.
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