"Doctor, are you also against the High Sparrow?" Dany couldn't help but ask.
The old Maester turned around, saw that the one asking was the "Champion of Arms," and after nodding in acknowledgment, he gave a bitter smile and shook his head. "The Citadel has no 'armed scholars.' We have no right to participate in politics.
It's just that winter is coming. The Citadel has already issued four warnings to the major lords. I even personally wrote several letters to the High Septon in King's Landing, advising him to focus on the bigger picture—stabilizing the situation and planting one last crop of winter wheat—if the heavens are merciful."
It seemed the Citadel hadn't completely failed in its duty. Unfortunately, one's influence determines the weight of their voice, and the voice of the maesters was simply too small—no one listened.
"What did the High Sparrow say?" Garlan asked curiously.
"He completely ignored me, which is why I came to ask Bishop Peter!" The old Maester said awkwardly.
Dickon sighed and said, "I just returned from King's Landing, so I understand the situation there better than you. As for the High Sparrow… I don't know what he's truly thinking, but it's clear that King's Landing has fallen under the Church's control.
The war-ravaged Riverlands and Crownlands are filled with countless bankrupt and unemployed peasants.
Oldtown remains relatively warm, but the Riverlands saw snowfall two months ago. For the Reach, winter is approaching, but for the Riverlands, winter has already arrived. Even though my father has been working hard to clear out bandits and remnants of armies, it will take at least a year or two before the Riverlands can recover.
For the destitute peasants, there is almost no way out. Joining the Church, becoming part of the Poor Fellowships, is their only hope for survival."
"But the war isn't even over yet!" Count Aston of the Harvest Hall said with a bitter smile. "Dragonstone, Storm's End, the Ironborn rebellion, the conflict between the Iron Throne and the Church, Lord Stannis's unknown whereabouts... I've heard—"
Seeing his hesitant expression, another count nearby asked curiously, "Heard what?"
"Well…" Aston rubbed his nose and lowered his voice. "I refuse to believe you haven't heard anything about Daenerys."
"Hiss—" The noble who asked the question visibly tensed, glancing around cautiously. Seeing that everyone else remained silent and expressionless, he let out a long breath—but resolved not to speak further.
"What are you all afraid of? It's just Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons." Dany's eyes flickered, and she deliberately blurted it out boldly.
"You—!" Dozens of eyes glared at her in anger.
It seemed the Citadel was intentionally suppressing information about the dragons and the Dragon Queen, yet the high lords clearly knew something.
Thinking of this, Dany feigned confusion and asked, "What's wrong? Even if she could eat people, she's thousands of miles away. The anti-Dragon Queen alliance is practically a global affair, so why has she become a taboo subject here?"
"Lady Lyra, what exactly do you know?" Baelor frowned.
"The real question is—what do you not know?"
"You are also a Westerosi, so surely you understand why we avoid this topic."
"I truly don't understand," Dany replied honestly.
Baelor glanced at Garlan, who remained expressionless, then sighed. "The Vale, the Riverlands, the North, the Lannisters, the Stormlands—five great kingdoms, five great lords—were directly responsible for the downfall of House Targaryen, even its near extinction.
Highgarden originally stood with Prince Rhaegar, but now it has allied with the Lannisters. Among the Seven Kingdoms, six have an irreconcilable conflict with her—a blood feud.
How could we not be wary?
Legends say that the last Targaryen is vengeful, ruthless, and bloodthirsty, never sparing an enemy. She tortures nobles, massacres civilians.
Bathes in the blood of infants, feeds corpses to her dragons, sacrifices her own kin to hatch dragon eggs, and practices the magic of shadow and blood. Every night, she—
Even if these rumors are exaggerated—exaggerated tenfold—if even a tenth of them are true, she is a monster, a demon in human form!"
Dany's forehead throbbed, but she suppressed her anger and said, "I had thought the nobles of the Citadel would be more rational, but you, Ser Baelor, have greatly disappointed me."
"Oh? And what part of what I said was wrong?" Baelor frowned.
"Who opposes the Mother of Dragons?" Dany asked.
Baelor thought for a moment and said, "The merchants and nobles of the Free Cities."
"And what kind of people are they?"
Baelor barely hesitated, nor did he show any doubt, as he replied matter-of-factly, "Cultured gentlemen."
"This conversation is pointless." Dany rubbed her forehead and groaned. "The Mother of Dragons seeks to abolish slavery, to free the oppressed slaves.
But slavery sustains the maritime trade of the modern world. Without slaves, three-quarters of the Free Cities' sea trade would collapse. It is for the sake of billions of gold dragons that the coalition was formed."
"I see what you mean," Baelor nodded thoughtfully. Then, turning to Maester Perestan, he said flatly, "Maester, all the rumors about Daenerys in the Seven Kingdoms originate from the Citadel. They don't seem to match the Dragon Queen that Lady Lyra describes."
"What? Those assessments of the Dragon Queen came from the Citadel?" Dany was stunned.
She had assumed Baelor was just another noble easily deceived by the Free Cities' merchants. She never imagined it was the Citadel itself that had been spreading slander about her.
And to think she had just been praising the Citadel's wisdom and responsibility in warning about winter!
Maester Perestan pursed his lips in thought, then sighed, "We did not lie. Tell me, did any of the great Ghiscari slave masters survive? I mean the Wise Masters, the Great Masters, the Good Masters?"
"Almost all of them are dead," Dany admitted.
The old Maester shrugged and asked, "The Good Masters were equivalent to dukes. Can you imagine a scenario where all the dukes of the Seven Kingdoms were slaughtered? Isn't that brutality?"
"That's too brutal!" One noble shivered and exclaimed.
Daenerys
The old maester asked again, "Thousands of people witnessed her dragon devouring men, consuming hundreds of mercenaries from the Second Sons—do you think that was fake?"
"But Ser Baelor just mentioned infants. He claimed the Mother of Dragons bathed in the blood of babies and then fed their corpses to her dragons," Daenerys countered.
"Perhaps it's exaggerated, but it's not entirely false. Think about it—dragons eat adults, so why would they spare children? The Citadel has records proving that dragons eating children is nothing new," the old maester said with conviction.
"That's right! When I was little, my old nanny told me bedtime stories about dragons eating children."
"My nanny told me the same thing."
"So did mine."
"And mine."
The gathered nobles were surprised to realize that all their nannies had shared similar stories.
"Then it must be true—dragons eat children," they concluded.
"But did your nannies also tell you that Targaryens bathe in the blood of infants?" Daenerys asked, her face expressionless.
"Not Targaryens, but a certain countess from Harrenhal," the Earl of Harvest Hall mused.
"If a countess could bathe in the blood of infants, why couldn't the Mother of Dragons?" Maester Perestan argued.
"By that logic, if a dock thief steals, does that mean everyone here is a thief too?" Daenerys said with a twitch of her lips.
"I have theoretical evidence," the red-nosed old maester insisted firmly. "That woman personally admitted that hatching dragons requires the sacrifice of one's closest kin.
"And what does that suggest?
It suggests she is a sorceress, a child of shadow, a wicked blood mage! And isn't it only natural for blood mages to bathe in the fresh blood of infants?"
What exactly had she done to offend the Citadel? Why were they so determined to smear her name?
Were they stirring public opinion in preparation for an upcoming power struggle?
But wasn't the Citadel supposed to be an institution dedicated to knowledge and truth? Why did it seem so politically biased?
By now, Daenerys had a clear understanding of the Citadel's stance.
With winter approaching, endless wars raging, and political turmoil spreading, the maesters were genuinely concerned for the people of the Seven Kingdoms. However, they did not see the Dragon Queen as the best candidate to end the chaos. In fact, they were strongly opposed to her.
Daenerys no longer bothered trying to correct the nobles' misconceptions about her. Instead, she got straight to the point and asked, "If the Dragon Queen returns to Westeros one day, seeking to restore House Targaryen's rule, how do the Citadel and the noble houses plan to respond?"
"She'll have a hard time getting past the allied forces, I'd wager," the old maester said indifferently.
"She has four dragons," Daenerys reminded him.
"Wasn't it three?" Baelor asked, puzzled.
"I heard she hatched another one."
"Dragons are not invincible," the historian said, shaking his head with certainty. "I've studied history. I know how high the attrition rate of dragons is in conventional warfare.
"Even before the invention of scorpion bolts, the Valyrians often deployed their armies in great numbers—one hundred dragons, two hundred dragons, three hundred dragons.
"Despite such overwhelming strength, they still suffered nearly a 2% loss rate.
"Take the war against the Rhoynar, for example. Sixty percent of the Dragonlords perished in battle, and nearly ten percent of their dragons died as well, either in combat or in the catastrophic flood summoned by the gods afterward.
"That woman has only four dragons—she can't afford many losses. Before the Dance of the Dragons, House Targaryen had over twenty great dragons. If they couldn't even dream of conquering the world, why should she?"
I've always wondered about the foolishness of the Targaryen ancestors.
They tore each other apart over this broken land of Westeros, fought bitterly, and drove their dragons to extinction.
With that kind of power, why not conquer Slaver's Bay, subjugate Volantis, seize Qarth, and elevate House Targaryen to a world-spanning dynasty?
"Perhaps the Dragon Queen won't make it past the allied forces. But if she finds herself with no other options, she may have no choice but to settle for the throne of the Seven Kingdoms. And when that time comes—"
"Settle?" Baelor bristled at the word.
Wasn't Westeros the heart of civilization? Wasn't ruling the Seven Kingdoms the greatest position in the world?
Daenerys sighed and said helplessly, "My lords, I am a Westerosi too, but we must face reality.
"To the rest of the world, Westeros is nothing more than a remote, backward land—culturally stagnant, politically outdated, isolated, and, most of all, impoverished."
"How are we backward? And poor? Everyone knows that Duke Tywin shits gold!" the Red Apple Lord retorted angrily.
Daenerys glanced at him and said coolly, "It is said that the Dragon Queen seized wealth worth fifty million gold dragons in Slaver's Bay. By weight, that's a hundred times more than Tywin has eaten in his entire life.
"And I refuse to believe the Lannister duke shits out more than he eats."
"Hiss—"
A gasp swept through the room as the nobles' minds filled with visions of golden coins cascading down upon them like a waterfall.
"Of course, Westeros' poverty isn't just about the amount of gold. In global trade, we have three major port cities: King's Landing, Oldtown, and White Harbor. But have you noticed?
"Our biggest export is wine—vintage from Arbor and Dornish reds. And what does that tell you?"
"What?" The nobles stared blankly at Daenerys.
"Sigh. Westeros imports Yi Ti porcelain, Summer Island furniture, Myrish lace and glass, Pentoshi spices (as a trade hub), and Tyroshi crafts."
She turned to the old maester. "Even the poisons used by maesters are imported from Lys, am I wrong?"
Indeed, besides breeding bed slaves, the Lyseni were also world-famous for their poison-making skills.
(End of chapter)
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