Chapter 545: I Will Ride Him Over Again

Chapter 545: I Will Ride Him Over Again

Qohor

One of the nine Free Cities, a rare inland city.

“Roar!” The brown dragon’s wings cut through the sky as the ugly mud dragon shrieked.

“Steady, Sheepstealer,” Aemond commanded, displeasure evident in his voice. He held a trembling, delicate figure in his arms.

Celine's face was pale, and she whispered, “I’m fine.”

Aemond frowned and slowed Sheepstealer's pace. He probably shouldn’t have brought his paramour along. A Celtigar, with their typical sea-faring background, was not accustomed to the dragon of blood and fire.

“Prince, are we almost there?” Celine asked, her eyes dizzy and barely open.

Aemond looked down at her and said confidently, “After crossing the Thenn River, Qohor is not far away.”

Celine nodded in relief. The destination of this trip was Qohor.

“Close your eyes for a while. I’ll wake you when we get there.” Aemond hugged Celine’s slender waist, resting his pointed chin on her silver-blonde curls, fully enjoying the moment of tranquility.

Celine was the best woman he had ever shared a bed with. She was younger than the brothel madam and more mature than Floris. When he spent his first night in High Tide in Celine’s bed, she was still a virgin. Thank the Sevens for the late Laenor, his cousin.

It was his alternative orientation that allowed him to pick up a Valyrian woman who looked so much like his sister.

Such a good catch.

“Roar!”

Sheepstealer leapt through a vast forest, suddenly lowering its head to roar in warning. Aemond opened his eyes wide, peering down with great caution.

Below lay the Forest of Qohor, the largest primeval forest on the continent of Essos. Among the lush, towering trees, the noise of people and horses was evident. A cavalry unit advanced slowly along a winding path that stretched for more than ten miles.

Aemond’s one eye widened, focusing on the barbaric attire of the cavalry. They wore animal skins and carried curved swords and bows. Men, women, and children all rode tall horses, following the procession in an orderly manner.

“These are the Dothraki!” Celine opened her eyes and said weakly.

“Yes, a bunch of wild men from the Great Desolation,” Aemond replied, his expression grim. He suddenly noticed the carts mixed in with the cavalry. Several horses were pulling carts covered in rags. From their towering bulges and the shape of the crossbows, it was not difficult to guess what they were.

“Scorpion crossbows from Qohor, escorted by Dothraki?” Aemond’s eyes lit up with excitement. “The weapons were purchased for Slaver’s Bay, and the wildlings were hired.”

He had been exiled for half a month and had heard nothing about the war. But judging by this Dothraki tribe of over 10,000 people, the family must have declared war on Slaver’s Bay.

“Should I take this news back?” Aemond’s eyes flashed with excitement but quickly dismissed the idea. He patted the dragon’s back and urged, “Hurry up, Sheepstealer!”

“Roar!” Sheepstealer snarled, flapping its tattered brown wings and disappearing into the forest in an instant.

Aemond smiled and muttered, “First, I’ll have the Crab Claws remade, then I’ll gather a group of mercenaries. Who can stop me now?” He was determined to make his name known throughout the continent of Essos.

...

Time passes slowly...

Rhaenyra was shocked. "They'll sell you their weapons?"

The Unsullied trained in Astapor were world-renowned. In the midst of war, how could the Wise Masters sell their strongest army?

"They didn't say how many, but I don't think it will be more than half of the city's total," Rhaegar half-sat on the table, his eyes slightly narrowed, and said slyly, "But I want them all."

...

At night, the sky was pitch dark.

At the base of the red-gray wall, burnt and dismembered corpses were piled haphazardly, forming a gruesome mound. Grey Worm's face was pale as he sidestepped a few bodies with blackened armor fused to their flesh, making his way to the base of the wall to search with the others.

“Here,” a fellow Unsullied called out, digging into a muddy drainage hole. The hole was not large, resembling a dog hole rather than one made for humans.

Grey Worm took out a chisel and began hammering away at the drainage hole, enlarging it to a size that could fit a person. The light flickered as a group of Unsullied soldiers patrolled the city walls. The night wind blew, and the moon was covered by dark clouds.

“Hurry up,” Grey Worm urged. He first shoved a jingling sack into the hole, then led the way through it. Back in this old purgatory, he never thought he would have to find another way.

A moment later, several figures moved through the city under curfew, skillfully avoiding the patrolling soldiers. After a while, they blended in with a pyramid's shadow. Shortly after, they quietly slipped out.

Grey Worm lifted the sack, which was more than half empty. “Next,” he whispered, his voice low but filled with excitement.

...

For three days, everything seemed calm.

The Wise Masters, after careful deliberation, opened the city gates and requested negotiations. With a bang, five thousand Unsullied marched out of the Free Cities, accompanied by three thousand mercenaries paid for by the Wise Masters. A dozen Wise Masters, dressed in their finest attire, set up a temporary pavilion outside the city gates. Behind them, a huge bronze statue of a Harpy loomed over the city gate, its talons appearing to clutch hundreds of huddled slaves like prey.

“Roar!” A thunderous roar echoed through the sky as a black dragon the size of a mountain slowly took flight. Two golden dragons of similar size flanked the black dragon. The Second Sons cavalry followed, escorting a convoy of carts loaded with boxes.

After a while, both sides took their seats. The Wise Masters sat at the head of the pavilion, each one plump and well-fed, resembling well-dressed pigs. The leader was a mature woman with dark skin, wearing only a light beige veil that highlighted her long, bouncy legs.

“Wow, she's a real beauty,” Aegon smiled, his eyes fixed on the woman.

The mature woman tilted her head and suddenly spread her legs, revealing a generous patch of black hair. Aegon was shocked, his smile vanishing. Rhaegar brushed past him, completely ignoring the rip in his sackcloth.

Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed, and her voice was low: “You're a disgrace.”

The first meeting between the two sides was obviously not very pleasant. The three siblings stood in the center of the gazebo, looking up at the Wise Masters gathered there. Each Good Master had a slave girl at their side, occasionally holding a whip. The mature woman sat in the middle, staring straight at Rhaegar.

Rhaegar, with his silver hair braided into a plait, looked around with interest. The mature woman was clearly intrigued by him. Regardless of his status, he was nothing more than a tall, handsome man to her. The inhuman beauty of the Targaryens was perfectly embodied in him. She wondered how comfortable it would be to ride him.

“Take your eyes off him, slave master!” Rhaenyra's face grew cold as she warned in High Valyrian.

The mature woman looked at her in surprise and replied in the same language: “Your husband is very handsome. When you were brother and sister, did you ever ride him secretly?”

Slaver's Bay was built on the ruins of ancient Ghis, which was once a slave of ancient Valyria. Today, people of status were proud to speak fluent High Valyrian.

Rhaenyra smiled, her most gentle expression delivering the most ruthless words: “When I cut off your head, I will put it by the bed so you can watch me ride him.”

“Puff!” Aegon couldn't help but laugh.