When Daenerys regained consciousness, she found the ship beneath her as steady as dry land, without a single tremor.
She blinked. Above her was a low wooden ceiling. She was still in the great ship. *So, has the ship docked?*
At this thought, Daenerys instinctively tried to get out of bed to take a look, but as soon as she moved, she found her body utterly limp, like a patient who had just recovered from a long illness.
*Am I sick?*
The moment the thought surfaced, the last scene she remembered before losing consciousness rushed back: *I blew the Dragonbinder, but I didn't use the Valyrian method to twist the little dragon's consciousness. Then my vision went black, blood streamed from my nose, and I fainted?*
"Hiss—"
Just as she was thinking, three ferocious "snake heads" nudged forward, bringing with them a scalding breath that felt incredibly comforting.
It was Grey Ghost, White Ghost, and Green Ghost. They had been guarding her bedside all along.
Daenerys was overjoyed. White Ghost and Green Ghost had truly recovered. Their golden and emerald eyes shone with vivid life, and their gaze held a deep sense of kinship.
The moment Daenerys touched their warm heads, it felt as if a sudden surge of strength flooded her body—almost like an illusion. Struggling to sit up, she shouted toward the door: "Jeyne, Ely, Doria!"
The three handmaidens, who had been waiting outside the door, immediately rushed in with a flurry of footsteps.
"Khaleesi, you're awake!" Ely's eyes welled with tears of joy.
"Khaleesi, do you want some water? Something to eat? It's been four days!" Jeyne asked, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes.
"Khaleesi, we've reached Slaver's Bay. We're docked at Apostta Dock," Doria said gently, holding a porcelain basin and softly wiping Daenerys's face.
"Four days? That long?" Daenerys was startled. "While I was unconscious... did any trouble break out between the Horsemen and the sailors?"
Doria understood her meaning immediately and reassured her, "Your dragon never left your side. Everyone knew you were merely unconscious and not seriously injured. They were only anxious for you to wake up; there were no conflicts."
"Khaleesi, your nose, mouth, and eyes were all bleeding... it looked so terrifying. We all thought—*sob, sob*..." Jeyne, the Horsewoman, burst into tears.
"Oh, don't cry. I'm fine, I'm fine."
After washing up and changing into a *qipao*, Daenerys walked out supported by her handmaidens and offered Jorah and the others a long-overdue word of reassurance.
"That Dragon Horn is truly a cursed object, Your Highness. Please, never attempt to use it again." After several days, not only did Jorah look disheveled with a scruffy beard and a weary expression, but even the handsome old man, Whitebeard, appeared exhausted, his snowy white beard stained with brown grime.
"Where is the Dragonbinder?" Daenerys asked, her tone unreadable.
"In the lower warehouse, Your Majesty—" Jorah began, his voice urgent with a need to caution her.
She waved him off with a smile. "I'm not foolish. I just want to know if the horn is damaged."
"Damaged?" he asked, bewildered. "Why would it be damaged? It's forged from dragon horn and bound in Valyrian steel. You couldn't break it with a hammer, let alone—"
*That's not necessarily true,* she thought. She hadn't used the proper method to release the horn dragon, and the series of lightning runes was almost certainly a sign of internal structural failure.
Moreover, when she had awakened and attempted to enter the dragon spirit state to restore her body, she discovered a string of gold-red lightning runes etched into her sea of consciousness.
Even though it was her first time seeing them, she knew instinctively that this was a sorcery rune from the Dragon Horn.
Daenerys desperately wanted to test if she could wield sorcery, but reason told her that in her current state, she'd best focus on recovering.
"When did we arrive at Apostta?" Daenerys asked, gazing at the towering red pyramids that rose like the tombs of gods. Her heart swelled with a mixture of awe and bitterness. How could a civilization that created such wonders have fallen so far, reducing itself to a slave-trading economy?
Just how advanced was the technology used to build the pyramids?
Even in the early 21st century, scientists still couldn't determine how the ancient Egyptians built them. Many even suspected the involvement of an alien civilization.
The knowledge involved—architecture, geometry, dynamics, astronomy, and more—was simply too vast and profound.
Though the Ancient Ghiscari Empire was destroyed by the Valyrians, the modern Ghis could still build pyramids 200 meters high. It was said that Meereen's Great Pyramid reached 210 meters.
"We arrived yesterday at noon," Jorah replied. "The Apostta customs officials have already come to ask what kind of slaves we need."
Daenerys sent him to notify the Apostta slave lord first: she wanted to buy Unsullied.
She had rested on the ship for two days before finally stepping onto the dock for the first time.
Apostta sat at the mouth of the Worm River. From the old, dilapidated dock to the crumbling streets and severely weathered city walls, and even the pyramids within the city, everything was a shade of red.
Daenerys found it strangely familiar. The Ghis in Apostta used fired red bricks, just like the brick kiln near her own hometown, where every household built their walls with the same red bricks.
In Apostta, the dock was built of red bricks, the streets were paved with red bricks, and the pyramids were covered in a thick layer of red bricks. The entire city was bathed in a rustic, earthy red.
But the buildings were all too old, and the red bricks had begun to weather on a massive scale. A gust of wind could kick up a storm of red dust.
The fine red dust easily stung the eyes and made breathing difficult. The women of Apostta covered their faces with veils whenever they went out.
Their party set out around seven in the morning. For greater safety, Daenerys didn't ride her Little Silver, but instead sat in a wide oxcart Jorah had purchased for her in advance.
Quolo, Ago, and Bevos stayed on the ship to guard the dragons. Upon arriving at Slaver's Bay, Daenerys didn't dare let the dragons out to roam.
She feared some might try to earn the title of "Dragonkiller," so even Grey Ghost was chained.
Daenerys didn't have her handmaiden accompany her; instead, Whitebeard sat across from her.
Ever since Jorah had obtained that dazzling set of Valyrian steel armor, he wore it every day.
Clad in full armor, he could only ride with Jorah and Rakaro, guarding the oxcart.
The docks were deserted in the early morning. The wooden wheels of the oxcart rattled on the uneven red brick road, their "clatter-clatter" mixing with the sound of horse hooves to create a series of echoes.
"Aren't the Ghis too lazy? The sun has been up for over an hour, and they still haven't come out to work," Daenerys said, peering out the window in confusion.
"Most people come here to buy Unsullied," Jorah replied. "Merchant ships rarely visit. Without commercial trade, there's no need for dockworkers or vendors. Who would the Ghis even work for?"
"Oh, I see."
"Your Highness, your face..." Whitebeard had been staring at Daenerys's smooth, eggshell-like skin, his mind racing with astonishment. He'd tried to speak several times but hesitated, finally finding the chance to ask, "I remember there was a dark red scab there yesterday."
"Hehehe, I have guests to see today!" Daenerys said cheerfully, stroking her own flawless skin. "To speed up my recovery, I spent half the night roasting by the fire. Thank goodness we docked, or I wouldn't have had enough firewood."
"Roasting?" The old man looked even more bewildered.
"Holding it over the fire, like roasting sweet potatoes," Daenerys explained.
"But wasn't your face burned by fire?" Whitebeard exclaimed in horror.
"Burned by *dragonfire*," Daenerys corrected. "Ordinary flames can't harm me."
"Sigh, I'll show you sometime and you'll understand," she said, stroking her cheek and rambling about things the old man couldn't possibly comprehend. "High temperatures speed up blood circulation, boost metabolism, and can even disinfect, kill mites, remove dead skin, burn off fat, slim the face, and tighten the skin... There are so many benefits!"
"Moo-ang—" A loud cry sounded by the carriage window. Daenerys lifted the curtain and saw an elephant, carrying a checkered seat-box on its back, slowly passing by. Leading it was a Ghis man with red and black hair styled to stand straight up.
As they left the dock and reached the streets by the shore, signs of life finally began to appear.
"Is that the Queen Targaryen of the Sunset Sea ahead?" a harsh Common Tongue voice called out from the crossroads up ahead.
Then came a rapid *de-de-de* sound. A dozen horses galloped toward them, kicking up red dust that forced Daenerys to lower the curtain.
"This is the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Great Mother of Dragons, Queen of the First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar, Her Majesty Daenerys," Jorah shouted, riding his horse forward to address the approaching knights.
The riders had amber-colored skin and wore embroidered linen tunics, pleated skirts, and leather sandals.
Draped over their shoulders were yellow silk cloaks, sewn with numerous shiny copper disks that reflected the blazing sun like countless miniature suns.
These Apostta Knights wore no helmets—nor could they. Following the Ghis tradition, their red-and-black hair was slicked up with oil and twisted into bizarre shapes: horns, wings, blades, and even clutching hands.
It was grotesque, utterly devoid of beauty, and made them look like demons crawling out of Hell.
"The Good Lord sent us to the docks to collect you," the leader said impertinently. "We didn't expect you to arrive so early."
As he spoke, he craned his neck, trying to peer through the gap in the curtains to get a good look at Daenerys.
Daenerys felt a flash of anger at his rudeness but didn't show it. Instead, she made a mental note of his insolence and pulled back the curtain, allowing him to see her fully.
To her astonishment, the man muttered in Valyrian, "No dragon!"
*Damn it! If you'd looked awestruck and offered a few words of praise, I would have forgiven you instantly. But now...*
"Which Good Lord sent you to collect me?" Daenerys asked with a faint, unruffled smile.
"Aren't you here to buy Unsullied?" the knight replied. "Of course, it's Good Lord Krazny zo Patik."
The eastern shore of Slaver's Bay was home to three major slave cities: Apostta, which dealt in Unsullied; Kayakayan, which trained pleasure slaves; and Meereen, which sold skilled slaves and elite gladiators on a massive scale.
Despite committing the most heinous atrocities in the world, the slave lords had even given themselves shameless titles: the Great Slave Lords of Apostta were called "Good Lords," the madams of Kayakayan were "Wise Lords," and the masters of Meereen's slave gladiators were "Great Lords."
The Ghis believed that castrating others was "good," that mastering seven kinds of pleasure-training was "wise," and that forcing humans to slaughter each other like beasts was "great"?
"We've arrived. This is the Square of Pride."
The Ghis knight led Daenerys and her party to a vast plaza. The carriage stopped, and as they stepped out and looked around, they saw the square was a hundred meters long and wide, with a massive fountain at its center.
The fountain was also built of red brick, with a circular basin nearly forty square meters in area. In its center stood a six-meter-tall bronze statue of a harpy—the face of a beautiful woman with gilded, long curly hair, eyes and teeth inlaid with ivory. She had no arms but possessed a pair of bat wings, the legs of an eagle with a heavy chain hanging from her talons, and a curved, venomous scorpion's tail.
Yellowish spring water, smelling faintly of sulfur, gushed from the harpy's swollen breasts, bringing a hint of coolness to the scorching plaza.
The harpy was the deity worshipped by the Ghis, the final emblem of their people.
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