Barristan's eyes widened as he looked at the fat merchant in disbelief. "Are you sure Duke Renly died at Stannis' hands?"
Ever since Slaver's Bay began strengthening intelligence gathering, news of Renly's death had long reached them. However, aside from Dany, no one was certain of Renly's cause of death.
Dany had once hinted that whoever stood to gain the most was likely the culprit.
Clearly, Stannis profited the most from Renly's death—gaining twenty thousand soldiers from the Stormlands and becoming the sole heir to the Iron Throne. (Renly was the Duke of the Stormlands, while Stannis' domain was Dragonstone—the ancestral seat of House Targaryen.)
But neither Barristan nor Jorah Mormont agreed with her speculation.
"Stannis is a man so upright he's rigid to the point of stiffness. It's hard to imagine why Eddard Stark never became his sworn brother," Jorah said with a complicated expression.
Stannis was extremely unpopular because his adherence to laws and traditions was so uncompromising it bordered on inhuman. If not for the fact that he was married and had a daughter, many would have thought he was the reincarnation of Saint Baelor—such was Barristan's assessment of the second Baratheon brother.
In short, to the common folk of Westeros, Stannis was an upright, unyielding, and resilient man—completely disconnected from scheming villains, let alone capable of committing fratricide.
Westeros had three unforgivable sins: violating guest rights, breaking sacred oaths, and spilling the blood of one's kin.
The fat merchant pursed his sausage-like lips and confirmed with utmost certainty, "I received news that Lady Catelyn Stark, née Tully, saw with her own eyes a shadow of Stannis slitting Renly's throat—slicing through his gorget as if it were tofu."
"Such magical power... how is that possible?" Jorah Mormont muttered in a daze.
He was reluctant to believe the merchant's words, yet he knew the man would spare no effort to gather the most accurate information to secure a discount from the queen.
Hmm, this fat man was one of Dany's informants, tasked with gathering information west of Volantis—especially concerning Westeros.
—Almost every day, ships from the Seven Kingdoms docked at Volantis' port.
"You seem overly surprised. Her Majesty has dragons," the fat man said indifferently.
Then he continued, "Not long after Renly's death, his newlywed wife, the Little Rose Margaery Tyrell, married Joffrey—secretly arranged without anyone's knowledge beforehand.
In other words, House Tyrell, who once supported Renly, had now allied with the Lannisters.
Duke Tywin's methods are truly remarkable!
With a wave of his hand, he turned the tide—almost single-handedly changing the Lannisters' dire situation of fighting five kings.
After that, everything became simple. Stannis attacked King's Landing by land and sea, only to have his entire fleet burned by wildfire set by the Imp. Then Tywin and the Tyrell coalition ambushed his rear, forcing him to retreat miserably back to Dragonstone.
House Baratheon was out of the game."
"They didn't even shoot down the goose before arguing over roasting or steaming it—what an idiot!" Dany sneered.
If the second and third Baratheon brothers had joined forces, with Dragonstone's powerful navy and Renly's seventy thousand mixed infantry and cavalry, who in Westeros could have stood against them?
Seizing the Iron Throne would have made them both winners—no matter who wore the crown.
Yet the second brother was brain-dead enough to start infighting before dealing with the Lannisters.
And to think Jorah and Barristan had both insisted that Stannis ranked among the top three commanders of the Seven Kingdoms.
Hmm... Tywin Lannister, who had been humiliated by greenhorn Robb Stark on the battlefield, was also considered among the top three.
According to Barristan's "subtle" hints, he himself was naturally the number one commander, followed by Stannis second, Tywin third, Randyll Tarly fourth, and Brynden Tully (the Blackfish) fifth.
As for Robert Baratheon—he didn't count. He was universally acknowledged as the greatest warrior, not a great commander.
Hearing the disdain in Dany's tone, Barristan frowned and argued, "In the face of the Iron Throne's temptation, how many could remain calm?"
"Alright, that makes some sense," Dany reluctantly conceded, nodding to the fat man. "Continue."
"With Stannis out, only Robb Stark remained," the fat man sneered, shaking his head. "But that fool broke off his engagement with Lord Frey's daughter over a woman, getting his entire family killed."
"That Snow... the bastard from the North..." Barristan furrowed his brows, trying to recall the name.
"Captain of the Ginkgo Maiden, Jordan Snow," Mormont said grimly.
"Right, him. What's that guy up to? Did he run into a shipwreck?" the white-bearded knight asked curiously.
Mormont looked at the fat man and asked, "How many Northern nobles died?"
"You know?" the fat man asked in surprise.
"Was it Lord Frey at the Twins? He killed Robb Stark at the wedding feast?" Barristan asked.
The fat man grew even more astonished but stopped questioning. He simply replied, "Indeed. The Young Wolf broke the engagement but still wanted Frey's strength, so he let his uncle marry a Frey girl on his behalf.
Though Lord Frey agreed, he'd secretly conspired with Roose Bolton and Tywin. That night, five thousand drunken Northern soldiers were slaughtered to the last man."
"Bang!" Jorah Mormont slammed his palm on the table, cursing with an ugly expression, "I always said that red-haired boy would get everyone killed.
And that old leech Roose Bolton—how could he murder his own liege? Does he have no sense of honor?"
Dany stared blankly at this knight who had lost his own honor.
"Oh, you're a Northern noble too," the fat man suddenly realized and consoled him, "Don't get too worked up. The Lannisters didn't fare well either. Just after pacifying the War of the Five Kings, King Joffrey was poisoned at his own wedding feast."
Jorah Mormont's eyes widened in disbelief. "What about the Kingsguard? Isn't the king's food inspected by designated personnel?"
He himself was a Kingsguard. Though Barristan didn't think highly of him, he still did his best to teach him the skills necessary to protect the royal family.
"It's said that the king's uncle, the Imp, Tyrion, poisoned him. The poison was administered during the wedding feast when no one was on guard," Fat Pate said.
Barristan sighed sorrowfully. "I never expected the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to fall to such a state—killing kin, violating sacred marriage vows, and murdering guests at a wedding. Morality is crumbling, and order is collapsing."
He couldn't help but turn to Dany, his melancholic blue eyes flickering with anticipation. "Your Majesty, only you can save Westeros now. Why don't we find an opportunity to return?"
"Hah! The coalition is currently assembling an expeditionary force, and you want to return to Westeros at a time like this? Are you giving up on Slaver's Bay?" the fat merchant exclaimed.
Dany smiled and said to the merchant, "Pate, your news is valuable. How about an 85% discount on white sugar for you?"
"Heh heh, thank you, thank you, Your Majesty!"
The fat man was perceptive. After a few words of gratitude, he promptly excused himself.
Once all outsiders had left, Dany furrowed her brows and said to Whitebeard, "I don't take the coalition seriously, but autumn only has a few months left. After that comes a winter that will last for years. If we return to Westeros, Ser, what is your plan?"
"I don't know. The current state of the Seven Kingdoms is beyond my imagination. But one thing I am certain of," the old knight said, his eyes carrying the same sorrowful confusion as a mother who had just lost her child, "The Seven Kingdoms are definitely not prepared with enough grain reserves!"
It was only after seeing Dany's frenzied farming efforts that he realized the significance of the eleven-year-long summer—it meant at least four years of harsh winter ahead. Yet war-ravaged Westeros had done nothing to prepare for the coming cold.
As for Dany's slogan—"Prepare for the Long Night, ten years of war readiness"—he had thought she was merely overestimating the enemy. He hadn't actually believed a ten-year winter was possible.
"Ser Jorah, what do you think?" Dany turned to the man who looked as though he had lost his father.
Well, he had lost his father. Not only his father, but his entire aunt's family as well—who knew if any had survived?
"I... If possible, I want to go home and see it," Jorah said, his eyes shining with a strange light. "Your Majesty, how long would it take to fly from Slaver's Bay to Bear Island?"
"Hmm..." Dany crossed her arms and tilted her head in thought.
A dragon could reach speeds exceeding 300 kilometers per hour at its fastest, but it wasn't sustainable for long distances.
If gliding at high altitudes, the speed would be only about 100 kilometers per hour, but maybe it could be maintained for an entire day and night?
She hadn't tested it before.
If they flew at a high-speed glide, meaning occasional wing flaps to accelerate and then gliding again, it should reach around 200 kilometers per hour.
She called Irri to fetch the world map from her quarters, preparing to estimate the size of this world.
Slaver's Bay was 2,200 kilometers from Volantis, over 4,000 kilometers in a straight line from Pentos, and Bear Island... Well, it was separated by two continents and an ocean—roughly 9,000 kilometers away?
Lying on the map, Dany measured carefully with a ruler.
"If Drogon doesn't suffer any major issues, we should reach Bear Island in about four days," she said.
"Four days?!" The two Kingsguard were first stunned, then overjoyed. "By the gods, dragons are too powerful! No wonder the Valyrians were able to conquer the world!"
"Before the coalition attacks, let's make a trip back to Westeros!" Barristan said, reinvigorated.
"Traveling to Volantis, or even Qohor and Pentos, isn't an issue. But Westeros..." Dany hesitated.
"Because of the sea route?" Barristan asked.
Dany walked to the northern wall of the pyramid. Under the golden morning sun, the deep blue sea was dotted with white sails. Ships were following the coastline toward Astapor, while merchant vessels loaded with sugar, copperware, liquor, and olive oil were slowly leaving the port.
Once, only a few ships came to buy Unsullied here. Now, the maritime trade at the docks seemed to have been reborn, pulsing with vitality like the city itself.
Even though the "United Nations" formed by the Ghiscari had been trying to blockade Slaver's Bay's sea trade, they dared not send their fleets into the bay under the threat of dragons.
Without entering Slaver's Bay, they couldn't truly block the trade of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen.
The reason was simple—the coalition couldn't intercept merchant ships leaving Slaver's Bay.
First, it was impossible. The bay's outlet was too wide. A full blockade would require too many ships, an expense the coalition couldn't afford.
Second, even if they did block it—so what?
Most of the ships coming to Astapor to trade were from Volantis. As sugar, high-proof liquor, and other goods entered the global market, Qarthian merchants had also started coming to Slaver's Bay.
But Qarth and Volantis were both key members of the coalition—would they really plunder their own merchant ships?
As for issuing stern verbal warnings...
If they dared to challenge dragons for the sake of the slave trade, wouldn't those merchants, who had gained immense profits, dare to challenge their own governments for the sake of Slaver's Bay's goods?
But all of this relied on one crucial factor—Slaver's Bay had dragons.
Barristan assumed Dany was worried that if the dragons were absent for too long, the coalition fleet would charge into Slaver's Bay.
After all, Westeros was too far. A round trip would take over half a month.
"It's not just about protecting the sea trade route—Westeros is... special."
(End of Chapter)
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