"Old Path?" Daenerys hadn't yet resolved her doubts about Jorah when Drogon suddenly brought her up. Had she done something bad in the past or would she in the future?
What should have been a rigorous analysis ended anticlimactically with the two people and one dragon lost in their own thoughts... Drogon, while soaring over the sea, didn't forget to train the two dragons. They had long grown accustomed to Drogon's training methods, evolving from initial evasive maneuvers and getting beaten, to later engaging in full-blown, scar-inducing battles with Drogon.
Now, the two dragons' fights were no longer limited to simple biting; they would claw, tail-whip, and hook with their wings, often battling from the sky down into the sea.
When the crew had free time, they would watch the three dragons fight on deck. They hadn't expected dragons to be so fierce and combative from such a young age, even fighting each other to the death, and using Dragonfire.
Drogon had already experimented with the degree of damage Dragonfire inflicted on dragons. Short-term Dragonfire burns were tolerable, resulting in only superficial injuries, but prolonged scorching was unbearable. Moreover, the power of Dragonfire would increase as the young dragons grew. Drogon's Dragonfire, for instance, sprayed more, reached further, and was hotter than the other two dragons'.
While Drogon and the others were having a blast fighting, Daenerys and Jorah began discussing their destination.
Daenerys advocated going to Pentos, a place she was familiar with. She believed that with five large ships and her connection to Magister Illyrio, she could establish a foothold there and slowly develop. Jorah, however, disagreed with her idea.
"Khal Drogo, Magister Illyrio is, in the end, a merchant driven by profit. Although we now have five ships, we have very few warriors. Going there would be like a lamb inviting trouble."
"I hear the Unsullied in Slavers Bay are rigorously trained and powerful in combat. It wouldn't be too late for you to go there, purchase some Unsullied, and then proceed to Pentos."
"Aren't the Unsullied the guards I saw at the Magister's mansion? They don't look like they can fight at all." Daenerys had a terrible impression of the Unsullied.
"Those are ordinary guards trained by Slave Masters, cheap and often the discarded products of true Unsullied warriors."
"You must know the ferocity of the Dothraki on horseback. Can you imagine the Unsullied defeating Dothraki several times their number?"
"Impossible!" After hearing Jorah's words, Daenerys immediately denied it.
"Yes, you know their ferocity, and I have heard that the Unsullied once used spears and shields to withstand continuous charges from Dothraki five times their number, eventually forcing the Dothraki to cut their braids and retreat."
"You have five large ships and a full cargo of goods. Taking them to Slavers Bay would allow you to make a huge profit. Buying a thousand Unsullied with that wouldn't be a problem, and then you would have confidence wherever you go." Jorah spared no effort to persuade Daenerys.
Hearing Jorah's account, Daenerys's heart fluttered. Her biggest concern before was her weak position, with only Jorah, the Bloodriders, and a dozen Dothraki Screamers capable of fighting.
After the battle at the estate, the young dragons displayed immense power, killing many invaders, further highlighting her lack of fighting warriors. If the Unsullied were truly as formidable as Jorah claimed, she would no longer have to beg everywhere and face constant setbacks as she did before.
So Daenerys ordered the small fleet to proceed at full speed, heading straight for Slavers Bay... Growing ever larger and now with powerful wings, Drogon was no longer content to simply fly around the five large ships at sea. Moreover, he had grown tired of roasted fish for several days, and the fresh meat on board was barely enough for Rhaegal and Viserion, certainly not enough for his enormous appetite.
These past few days, he had been almost exclusively hunting on the coastal land. This world, with its vast and sparsely populated areas, allowed him to sample many wild delicacies.
The only downside was the lack of Jeyne's service. While he was accustomed to using his claws and wings, disemboweling prey was quite challenging for him, and he couldn't adopt Rhaegal and Viserion's method of swallowing whole, which made eating very uncomfortable.
Flying in the direction of the fleet, he could both search for food and scout ahead, detecting storms or pirates in advance.
The crew mentioned that some places had giant sea monsters, but Drogon flew for several days without finding any. However, he did encounter an unlucky pirate ship, carefully exhaling a few breaths of fire, thus adding another ship and a crew of sailors to the Dragon Mother's assets.
At this moment, he was flying somewhat anxiously, his stomach aching with hunger, yet he still hadn't seen land. Had he flown in the wrong direction?
Experienced crew members said they might reach Astapor tomorrow, but he had flown for over an hour without seeing land, which clearly indicated a problem.
Instead of flying further forward, he ascended directly, soaring into the cold, high altitude. Looking ahead, he not only saw land but also a vast green sea further in the distance.
That was... a great grassland? But he hadn't heard that Astapor was a grassland. Had he really flown in the wrong direction?
Drogon's eyes then lit up. Grasslands were good! There was plump mutton and chewy horse meat. Thinking of this, Drogon no longer cared if he had flown in the wrong direction; if he had, he would just consider it familiarizing himself with the terrain and exercising. Eating was the most important thing now, so he swooped down with effort towards the grassland.
Ten minutes later, as he got closer to land, an endless green ocean appeared before him. The Dothraki Sea truly deserved its name; this grassland was simply too vast. Drogon felt as if countless lambs awaited slaughter were waving at him.
Gliding over the lush grass, a scent of fresh grass wafted to him, greatly uplifting Drogon's spirits after smelling salty sea air for days.
He hadn't flown far when he saw a large flock of sheep grazing leisurely in the distance. Just as he was about to catch two and find a spot to roast them for a good feast, his nose suddenly caught a familiar aroma of roasted meat, a smell even better than Jeyne's cooking.
Following the scent, he looked to his right, where tendrils of smoke drifted from beside scattered tents. Indeed, they were roasting meat.
Ready-made, seasoned roasted meat was far superior to his own crudely roasted fare. Drogon flapped his wings and flew to the right. Before he even reached the roasting spit, he was discovered by the Dothraki who were roasting meat, and they scattered, shouting.
"It's a giant bird, run!" As a powerful future dragon with a strong lineage, Drogon had long mastered Dothraki. He was quite happy to watch them flee, so as not to disturb his meal.
Having scared away the roasters and the people in the tents, Drogon sat down and began to feast. Besides large chunks of roasted meat, there was also half a lamb sizzling with fat on a roasting spit.
After several large bites of roasted meat, Drogon grabbed a nearby wineskin and took a gulp of Mares Milk Wine. It was sweet and sour, though a bit gamey.
The fleeing crowd in the distance ran for a while before realizing the giant bird wasn't chasing them. They stopped and boldly looked back at Drogon.
"It's not a giant bird, it's a dragon, a real dragon!" The onlookers exclaimed in astonishment.
"The dragon has been reborn!" More people recognized Drogon's identity. They no longer cared about the eaten roasted meat, but rather marveled at the miracle of rebirth from nothingness.
In the time of Aegon the Conqueror, the Dothraki also had records of dragons, but dragons had been extinct for over a hundred years. They never expected to see one again.