Vaes Tolorro, 299 AC

Arthur

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Arthur took a spoon and tasted the meat soup made by Charles. They lacked the ingredients for a proper stew, but no one was complaining, for their meeting with the Khaleesi had gone much better than any of them expected.

Dragons. The mere thought of them fascinated him. When he first laid eyes on the three beasts, his whole world turned upside down. It was the ultimate confirmation of this divine intervention, and everyone had reacted to it in their own way. Dutch and Hosea were born-again in their faith, while Charles had also accepted his new reality pretty well. John was a different matter, but he would come around eventually. As for Arthur himself, he had thought on what the girl had said, about them having a purpose. He was ready to find out what it was.

The gang had spent the better part of the last two days speaking with Daenerys and the knight Jorah Mormont on various topics, eager to know more about this new world. It was a cruel land of lords and kings like Europe, where slavery was still practiced, people lived in poverty and the aristocrats played politics without any principles. The entire world hadn't been discovered, but there were two major lands- Westeros and Essos, they happened to be on the latter. Mormont was from Westeros, and a well-travelled man. He talked of countless kingdoms and free cities, while Dutch regaled them with tales of America. Now, about that.

Dutch had always been full of enthusiasm and stern in his beliefs, but now he had an energy that Arthur had never seen before. He was always capable of charming people and turning them to his side, having brought Arthur, John and Charles into his personal war for freedom from the government. In a world like this, his resolve would only grow stronger. He was more a teacher than an outlaw, never using that term to describe what he was and what he did. From the looks of it, he was already trying to turn the queen Daenerys into another student.

The people in the city were called Dothraki, a group of horse-riding nomads who lived in a country of grasslands and had a reputation for war, though the ones with them had seen better days. Daenerys had been married to their king, practically sold to him by her brother, when she was only sixteen and now led them. Arthur wondered about the kind of brother he must've been to treat his own sister like that. But he was disturbed when he heard of the method she used to hatch dragons, something that involved burning a witch to death. It was a dangerous world they had come to where this was common, and if they found themselves on the wrong side of the law, they could easily be subjected to medieval torture.

On second thought, it wasn't so different than his own world, where people still killed each other for sport. Just because they used guns instead of blades didn't make it any less cruel. Speaking of guns, they hadn't revealed them to their hosts yet, and Dutch was planning to do it when the time was right. The people here didn't have firearms, so the gang had a big advantage.

"It's ready, Charles." he said, putting the spoon back into the pot. The man poured it into small bowls they had been provided and served them to the people. On the queen's orders, children and elderly were to be fed first, though they had managed to stretch their rations to feed everyone. The soup was thin, but they were grateful to get anything at all. It was enough for the people to proclaim the five Americans as their saviors and were now friendlier to them.

After everyone was served, the higher-ranking folk took their turn. Rakharo and the queen's handmaidens went first, followed by Mormont. Daenerys was nowhere to be seen though.

"It's a good thing we're doing." Charles said. "But we can only stretch for five more days."

"We can shoot the birds and put them in the soup. That'll buy us some time until the girl's messengers arrive." Arthur replied, watching the crows and vultures flying over the ruins.

"That might work, though there is the question of what we feed the babies. Did you try that milk they offered us yesterday?"

"I did, and I won't be trying it again anytime soon." Arthur remembered the foul taste of the mare's milk.

After the meal, he took a bath near the wells and washed his clothes, donning a spare shirt and jeans. The ruins were not that large, which made them easier to explore should he want to take a stroll. To pass some time, he climbed to the top of the lone watchtower where he could see the entire city. It had a certain beauty to it, even if it involved the desert, doom and depression. Taking his journal out, he sketched the entire thing.

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They call it Vaes Tolorro, the city of bones. I still can't understand a word they say.

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In the distance, he noticed a horse without a rider, making its way to their position and climbed down.

"We have spotted a rider, Mister Morgan." Daenerys said, having finally come out with Mormont. "One of my bloodriders is returning."

"There's no man on that horse, Khaleesi." Arthur revealed.

"Are you certain?" asked Jorah.

"Here, see for yourself sir." Arthur handed him his binoculars. After some trouble, the knight figured out how to use them and looked at the horizon.

"It is Aggo's horse Khaleesi, covered in blood." Upon hearing those words, Daenerys ran towards the gates while others followed her. The horse came closer and now they could easily smell the stench of blood. John and Charles had come out too, while Dutch and Hosea were resting inside.

Ser Jorah went forward and put his hands inside the saddlebag. Out came a severed head of an olive-skinned man, along with a long braid that had been cut. Irri, one of the Khaleesi's handmaidens let out a shriek and started crying, muttering a few sentences in her own language. She was comforted by her queen, who then moved closer to examine the head.

"What kinda animal would do that?" Arthur asked, disgusted. "Kill a messenger?" Though he had killed countless people and was in no position to judge a murderer, even he wouldn't stoop that low. That man, like Rakharo, was just a desperate feller asking for help.

"Khal Pono perhaps, or Khal Jhaqo." the knight answered. "They took offence to the idea of a woman leading a Khalasar."

"They will take even more offence when I am done with them." Daenerys replied furiously, violet eyes burning with rage. "Build him a funeral pyre, so he may join his ancestors in the night lands."

"I'm glad we didn't run into those guys." John whispered and Arthur agreed. It was a reminder of how dangerous this world is. The fury in the girl's eyes made him think she intended to do whatever she vowed to do.

She means business.

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Daenerys

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Aggo's remains had been burned an hour past. For the first time in days, Dany found herself thinking about her husband's former kos. They were respectful to her when Drogo lived, but now thirsted for her blood. Her anger soon turned into guilt. Had she unknowingly sent her loyal bloodrider to his death? She could only pray for Jhogo's safe return.

Wishing to be alone, she sent Ser Jorah out for a walk while she picked up one of the books Dutch Vanderlind had given her, written by a maester named Evelyn Miller. It was a fine tome titled 'The American Inferno', made of very thin paper and the writing was unnaturally clean to read, though some words were foreign to her. The maester talked about human character, and with every word Dany was fascinated with his mind.

"…Men are fixated on greed, on desire, and on the acquisition not of experiences or pleasures but the ability to acquire. People are fixated on wealth. Man is reduced to the desire for desire. Wanting is all that matters. Not loving, not being, not having, but wanting. We are killers for desire. Even sport would be preferable. This is the grand sickness, the eternal sickness of this land - it is, man unleashed. Man unleashed and turned into he knows not what..."

Man unleashed. Those words sent Dany's mind into deep thought.

One of her earliest memories was of a red door in a house in Braavos. That was her home when she and Viserys escaped the Usurper's men and was the only place she ever felt safe in. The highborn of the free cities would welcome them and entertain Viserys as the rightful king of Westeros, but what if they had their own designs? The cities owed no fealty to the Iron Throne, so why even bother to treat with them at all?

Desire.

They did not welcome them out of the goodness of their hearts, they did not see two helpless children, but an opportunity to fill their coffers. Magister Illyrio Mopatis talked of Westerosi smallfolk drinking toasts to the Targaryens and supported Viserys as king, but at the same time treated with the Usurper's men whenever they showed up. Would he treat Robert Baratheon with the same respect he showed her brother if he came to his manse? Somehow Dany thought he would. He was a merchant through and through, motivated by his pursuit for wealth. If Viserys had not promised to bring him wealth and name him to his small council, he would have no reason to entertain him.

What of her husband's Khalasar though? They had once welcomed Dany into their fold and proclaimed her son as the Stallion who mounts the world. Drogo's life had not even left his body when his loyal men attacked her and left. Now they lusted for power, hunted their Khaleesi and killed their own brothers for sport.

All men have their desires, after all. It trumps love and loyalty. The maester was correct.

"I see you have taken an interest in Mr. Miller, Khaleesi." Arthur said as he entered. "Sorry for entering unannounced. Just needed to get you something to eat." He was holding a bowl of soup. Dany took it.

"Thank you, Arthur." she said. "I have vowed to not eat before my people have."

"That is commendable, but if you plan on leading them, you must be in proper health."

She drank the soup, filled with various meats and pleasant flavors. After days of surviving on scraps, even thin meals felt like feasts.

"Dutch used to talk a lot about Miller when John and I were kids, but we were never sharp like him." said Arthur.

"His ideas are…unorthodox, but not without meaning." Dany replied. "It is hard to imagine a land whose customs are so queer, but the gods sent you here for a purpose. Tell me, how did you rebel against the governors?" she asked, remembering a word Dutch had mentioned.

Arthur looked uneasy for a bit before talking. "I guess there's a fine line between rebellion and crime. We were always treading on it."

He went on to explain how they rescued poor young men and women from worse fates. Some of them were people known as blacks and Indians, who were constantly put down by those in power. They would organize raids and rob establishments, sometimes kill people who meant others harm. Dany understood what he meant by 'a fine line'. Any lord or king would call them bandits, accusing them of breeding chaos and anarchy. But these five men did not fit the image she had of such men. They were learned and articulate in their opinions. They had saved her people from starvation. They were respectful, not only to her but everyone. Arthur told her of an event when they robbed a bank but gave all the money to the poor. Would a common lowly bandit do that?

Her own people were not immune to vices. They pillaged, raped and enslaved when Drogo still lived. Yet she accepted them as her blood. Perhaps she could give a chance to the men from America as well. The doubt in her mind remained, though she remembered that the gods brought them here for a reason.

Arthur soon left and Ser Jorah returned, having scattered Aggo's ashes according to proper Dothraki custom. The next two days were slow, for all they could do was wait for a sign. The soup turned thinner, and their stores were running dry. Charles Smith had gathered a few able-bodied men to shoot birds from the sky, which soon found their way into their meals. Dany was kept occupied by comforting her Khalasar and listening to their grievances. In her free time, she read more of Maester Evelyn Miller's book and had discussions with Dutch and Hosea. One such conversation brought an idea in her mind.

"In my vision, I saw men using powerful weapons that looked just the ones you carry." she said. "But you have not used them during your stay here."

"They are powerful weapons Khaleesi, but they require ammunition." answered Dutch.

"Like a crossbow?" asked Jorah.

"Yes, but much more powerful. They are called firearms, or guns."

"A fitting name." Dany said, remembering how they shot fire from their barrels. Such a power could be a great asset in her journey. Dutch and Hosea removed their strange sheaths, called holsters, and put the weapons on the table. They were finely crafted instruments, looking considerably harmless. Names like revolver, shotgun and rifle were mentioned.

"How powerful are they?" she asked.

"Can put a large hole in the knight's armor, this one." replied Hosea, picking up a short gun with two barrels. "One shot to the head is enough to kill."

They then brought the ammunition, which were small cases of metal in different sizes.

"Khaleesi, my information on this is rather limited, but the containers are called bullets and filled with a substance called gunpowder. The mechanism of the gun ignites this powder and sends the bullet in the direction you point. The bullet travels so fast that it pierces through everything, even metal or stone." Dutch explained. "It is a common weapon in our land. We are trained in its use but never learned much about them."

"Can you give us a demonstration?" Ser Jorah began. "The claims you make are hard to believe, but they can be put to rest this way."

"I could, but the bullets are in limited supply. We would rather use it in important situations only."

"Just one bullet, then." she said.

"As you wish, Your Majesty. What do you want us to shoot?" Dutch asked. Dany pointed towards a stone statue in the distance, at the very end of the building. What happened next would bring the same reaction on her face as the Americans had when they saw her dragons.

Hosea picked up his 'revolver' and aimed at the statue's head. Ser Jorah was skeptical for it was so far away from their position. Then, a loud voice cracked, like the sound of thunder and the head was obliterated.

"By the gods…" Ser Jorah exclaimed, holding Dany close.

Regaining her composure, she saw Rakharo, Arthur and John enter, ready for battle.

"Where's the intruder?" John asked.

"No intruder!" Dutch answered. "Calm down! It's just a demonstration of our guns." Dany commanded Rakharo to put his weapon away.

"You didn't think it would be better to mention it beforehand?" Arthur frowned. "The folks are scared out there."

While Dutch and Arthur argued, Dany thought of the sight she witnessed. The weapons gave a soldier the power of fire in the palm of his hand. Ideas crossed her mind and she made them known.

"How many guns do you have?" she asked.

"Twenty-one." said Arthur.

"Is it possible to make more?"

The men looked at each other before Dutch spoke.

"I'm afraid we don't know how to do so, but the materials they are made of are pretty common."

This was an opportunity that she could not let slide. It could make her people strong and untouchable.

"Would a skilled craftsman or blacksmith be able to fashion a thing like this?" she asked.

"The person in question would have to be extremely skilled but I think it's possible. As I said, they are made from commonly available materials."

"Is it what I suspect it is, Khaleesi?" asked Ser Jorah.

"It is." she replied. "These weapons, combined with the might of my dragons would make us an unstoppable force. Fire and Blood." The words of her house were never truer.

"Jhogo is back, Khaleesi!" Doreah announced as she ran into their meeting. It was something everyone wanted to hear. "The guards saw him with camels."

As if on impulse, Dany ran outside and climbed the walls with her companions following. Her last bloodrider was riding from the southeast, in the company of three queerly garbed strangers on three camels. Two more camels followed them carrying what looked like provisions. They stopped at the gates before Jhogo started speaking. "Blood of my blood, I have been to the great city of Qarth and returned with three who would look on you with their own eyes."

Dany looked at them before replying. "Here I am. Tell me your name strangers."

"I am Pyat Pree, the great warlock." A pale, blue-lipped man spoke in Dothraki.

"I am Xharo Xhoan Daxos, a merchant prince and one of the Thirteen of Qarth." A tall, black-skinned man replied in Valyrian.

The third was a woman donning a red mask, who spoke in the common tongue. "I am Quaithe of the Shadow. We come seeking dragons."

Dany considered her words carefully. These were powerful and undeniably dangerous people they had met.

"Seek no more." she declared. "You have found them."

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