The Mountain of Ice and Fire

“Pegi, you’ve lost!” Daario raised his eyebrows, exuding confidence and unrestrained, dashing charm.

“Pegi, cut off your long hair,” Daenerys commanded.

Pegi's long hair was braided into a whip that dragged behind him, adorned with many small golden, silver, and bronze bells.

“Kha, Daario needs your long hair and bells as a reward of honor,” Daario laughed.

“Take it!” Pegi's face turned green. He forcefully thrust his scimitar back into its sheath.

Long hair and bells, symbols of honor for a Dothraki warrior.

The defeated cut their hair, the victors tie bells; the longer the hair, the more it proves their bravery in battle.

Daario had no intention of killing Pegi. He could have taken Pegi's head, but that would have been too risky. Once this group lost its Kha, it would split that very day. Perhaps a Ko would establish himself as Kha, which wouldn't be too bad; but if no leader capable of commanding respect emerged, great chaos would ensue.

Chaos would bring many uncertainties! In the chaos without a Kha, many cruel generals would want to seize Daenerys and make her their wife or concubine. Daenerys was too beautiful, and her status as queen made the generals fantasize.

Only a Kha would obey the ancient teachings and rules, responsible for safely bringing Daenerys to Vaes Dothrak and handing her over to the dosh khaleen, as tradition dictated.

*

Daenerys asking Pegi to cut his hair was also her way of telling Daario not to kill Pegi.

What she needed now was safety, for this legion to be orderly, not bloody chaos.

Daario understood this principle as well.

Their monarch and subject understood each other perfectly.

Daario still didn't know that one of the stable slaves in the army was Jorah Mormont, the Great Bear. Daenerys hadn't told Daario about Jorah Mormont. It was better for Daario not to know, so he could focus more on facing the decisive battle.

*

Whoosh!

Daario's arakh flickered, a cold light flashed, and the blade severed Pegi's long hair, which was full of bells, a symbol of his honor. The long hair fell, the bells jingled. Daario's arakh flicked, the tip of the blade lifted the long hair, he grabbed it in his left hand, then raised it high to show everyone, he smiled, slowly turning in a circle.

The entire scene quieted down instantly, countless bright eyes fell on the long hair, on the bells, on Daario's arrogant face.

Thousands of people were silent at that moment!

The soldiers and people were filled with admiration, they regarded Daario as a true hero.

Pegi's expression was stern, his face as hard as black iron, he snorted, turned and left!

The many layers of the circle automatically separated, leaving a wide passage.

*

In a Dothraki battle, the loser had three possible outcomes: cutting hair; beheading; cutting hair and beheading. Whichever the outcome, it conformed to ancient teachings and traditions.

Many highly skilled and proud warriors, after having their long hair cut after defeat, chose to commit suicide.

They couldn't bear the humiliation of having their honor stripped away.

But more warriors chose to accept it, and then practice their martial arts diligently. If they lost in swordsmanship, they would practice swordsmanship; if they lost in archery, they would practice archery. They longed to win back their honor in the next challenge.

Daenerys and Daario only hoped that the taciturn Pegi wouldn't choose to commit suicide. Of course, given Pegi's personality, if he wanted to commit suicide, he might immediately turn his scimitar back and cut his own throat.

*

“Daario, you have earned your freedom,” Pegi's voice came from outside the crowd, still strong and powerful, “You can choose a horse from my steeds. If you want to leave, you can leave at any time.”

“Pegi, wherever my Queen goes, I will go,” Daario shouted back.

“Daenerys must go to Vaes Dothrak, she is our future dosh khaleen.”

“Then I will also go to Vaes Dothrak. I will not leave her, ever.” Daario's eyes were as bright as shining stars, he looked at Daenerys with passion.

He had spent many nights by the Queen's side, he always made the Queen very happy, and she constantly shouted 'Oh, Daario!' Because of this, he had a nickname, jokingly called 'Oh, Daario' by the soldiers.

*

As night fell, the mute stable boy, taking advantage of the opportunity to graze the horses, rode a warhorse and quietly left the group with a spare horse. He didn't know the rhythm of how to blow the Dragon Horn, but he knew that as long as the Dragon Horn was blown, it would increase the hope of the dragons returning.

The soldiers could basically blow the horn with a 'wooo wooo wooo' sound! So could the stable boy!

What he and the Queen he served now had left was precisely hope.

Three days later, Pegi's two bloodriders, Jaspar and Jhosua, returned wearily with more than three hundred cavalrymen. After sacrificing dozens of lives, they had successfully lost Ago.

On the dark night of the previous day, according to the traces left on the grassland, they split up to pursue Ago. After dawn, they would reunite, but everyone had lost Ago's direction.

Jaspar and Jhosua had no choice but to bring their brothers back.

Ago seemed to have completely disappeared on the grassland. He might have gone further south, or east, or sneaked back towards Dragonstone Mountain...

Jaspar and Jhosua returned, and were surprised to see that Pegi had shaved all his hair. Although they had seen many nobles in the kingdoms with bald heads, and many heroes of foreign races also liked to keep a bald head, the Dothraki never shaved their heads. Their long hair was their honor.

Early the next morning, Pegi ordered the army to advance north, destination: Vaes Dothrak.

The annual gathering festival was approaching, and they were still two thousand miles away from the holy city.

As Pegi's army had just left Dragonstone Hill, a man and two horses slowly returned here. The knight on horseback restored his original appearance - he was Jorah Mormont.

Jorah was dressed in Dothraki clothes, he followed the road up Dragonstone Hill, and came to the dragon cave on the hillside where the three dragons had lived. Outside the dragon cave, besides the scorched rocks, there were also many animal bones.

Jorah moved into a very simple small stone house built by Daenerys and Drogo Kha themselves. This stone house was built three years ago, at that time, he was following Daenerys.

Traces of dragons remained here. Pegi had also come to see it, many soldiers had come to see it. Although Daenerys didn't have dragons by her side, the way Pegi and his soldiers looked at Daenerys was already different.

Jorah tethered the horses, took out the carefully wrapped Dragon Horn, climbed to the top of the mountain, and blew it with a 'wooo wooo wooo' sound...

The horn sounded melodious, extremely penetrating, containing a metallic texture... He had blown it countless times in other places... Whether it was day or night... But the three dragons still had no sign of appearing...

This was where the three dragons had left, even if the horn wasn't blown, the three dragons would return to find their master, but, no one could be sure when they would return...

In the distance, several black shadows appeared, the black shadows were rapidly moving towards Dragonstone Hill. Jorah stopped playing, the approaching black shadows were a small group of cavalry. The speed of the cavalry was extremely fast, the wind also carried the sound of hooves, faintly.

Jorah crouched down, quickly descended the top of the mountain, first hid the two horses in the small woods, and then hid himself behind the rocks that were easy to observe.

A group of cavalry quickly arrived, the leading general was Daenerys's bloodrider, Rakharo.

Jorah Mormont was overjoyed, he revealed himself: “General Rakharo, it's me, I am Jorah Mormont.”

Rakharo roared and rode up the mountain!

At dusk, another bloodrider, Ago, also arrived on horseback.

On Dragonstone Hill, within a day, a team of less than fifty people gathered, led by Rakharo, Jhogo, and Jorah Mormont. They stayed on Dragonstone Hill, taking turns blowing the Dragon Horn, waiting for Daenerys's dragons to return.

The bloodriders and Jorah had experienced the entire process of the three dragons' birth, growth, and battles. They were three old friends of the three dragons. Jorah was also the first person to learn the word 'dragonfire' from Daenerys.

In the blink of an eye, more than twenty days had passed. On Dragonstone Hill, there were three generals looking forward to the return of the dragons. As the annual celebration festival approached, Jorah, Rakharo, and Ago decided to leave Dragonstone Hill and head towards Vaes Dothrak.

They didn't have the burden of civilians, their marching speed was extremely fast, running hundreds of miles a day, day and night, about seven days, they could reach the holy city. And on the other side of the Narrow Sea, in the depths of the Mountains of the Moon, on the cloud-shrouded mountains rarely visited by people, there was also a group of warriors looking forward to the dragons, this team was led by the Mountain, Jennea, Old Chief Teague, and the Red Priestess Melisandre.

This time they came again, perhaps thanks to Melisandre's prophetic abilities, they were lucky, the Sheepstealer was indeed in his dragon cave, and, without waiting for the praise songs to summon him to appear, he took the initiative to come to the entrance.

*

“Is that the Sheepstealer?” Jennea was incredibly shocked, her beautiful eyes widened.

She looked up at a ferocious dragon head at the mountainside cave, that head was very, very big, although they were far apart, it felt like that dragon head was still larger than the body of an elephant.

The dragon Balerion the Black Dread, the mount of Aegon the Conqueror, was rumored to be able to swallow a wild bull or an elephant in one bite, so how big was his head? In the dragonpit under King's Landing, an adult could walk into the mouth of Balerion's bones, and stretch out his hand to barely touch his upper jaw bone.

Beside Jennea stood Melisandre, Brienne of Tarth, Ser Zellweger the Bull, Redhand One-Eye Teague, Captain Aylin, and Captain Joyce. Behind them were five hundred of the Mountain's sworn guards. Behind the guards were hundreds of raggedly dressed people from the Burned Men.

Everyone widened their eyes, looking up at the cave entrance on the mountainside. At the cave entrance, a ferocious and terrifying huge dragon head was revealed, the light from those dragon eyes, even from far down the mountain, could feel the invisible force of oppression sweeping over like a tide.

At the edge of the black zone at the cave entrance, there were two figures, one large and one small, the tall one was the Mountain, the short one was Old Chief Teague. The two generations of Red Hands of the Burned Men were bringing two live goats for the first time.

In the past, when the Red Hands of the Burned Men came to sacrifice, they would kill the sheep and bring them, and because the mountain road was steep and their strength was limited, they could only bring one fat sheep at a time. But the Mountain, as the new generation of chief Red Hand, had set a precedent, carrying a fat live goat in each hand.

The entrance of the dragon cave had been repeatedly scorched black and shiny by dragonfire, and the surrounding rocks had also been baked by dragonfire as if they had become black crystals. The area within three hundred meters of the cave was a black zone, scattered with countless animal bones, the Mountain and the old man Teague stood at the edge of the black zone, without stepping into the black area.

Nothing grew in the black area!

This time, without waiting for the old man Teague to sing the sacrificial hymn of the fire wizard, the dragon revealed a huge head from the deep cave - the terrified cries of the live sheep were an irresistible temptation for the Sheepstealer, although he ate all the animals he could find, he liked sheep the most.

Live sheep were the most delicious food that the Sheepstealer couldn't resist, even more enticing than the Red Hand Teague singing beautiful praises to his master.

Every time the Red Hand Teague came to sacrifice, he had to sing first, the song was passed down from the fire wizard Marwyn, the Sheepstealer knew that the person who came was a believer of his master when he heard the singing.

The Sheepstealer noticed that a stranger had come this time, but he recognized the red wizard's robe worn by the stranger, although the robe was not worn on his body, but hung on his strong body. On the stranger's neck hung the small ax of the Burned Men chief Red Hand, this robe and small ax were the symbols of his master Marwyn, the person holding these two things was the new generation of the tribe's highest Red Hand who had come to sacrifice.

For one hundred and fifty years, the Sheepstealer had experienced the succession sacrifices of more than a dozen generations of Red Hands, he knew this process clearly, the one who would come to serve him would be this tall stranger.

“Sing the praises quickly.” The old man Teague's voice trembled slightly. It was unknown if this was because of fear or excitement, or both.

Although the Mountain didn't move, he was already soaked with sweat.

The Sheepstealer only revealed a head, the pair of huge dragon eyes like black crystals looked at him, causing him to feel a pressure like a mountain peak pressing down, overwhelming. In that instant, he felt like he had already turned and fled, but his body actually hadn't moved.

Before this, the Mountain had been building himself up psychologically for more than a month, but the power of a two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old dragon, once he truly faced it at close range, the Mountain still collapsed the carefully constructed psychological preparation in that instant, the dragon's incomparable majesty was not something that ordinary people could calmly face with reason.

Although the old man Teague had been coming here for decades, he was still trembling every time he faced the giant dragon, unable to be calm and relaxed.

Reminded by the old man Teague, the Mountain opened his mouth, and a distorted and out-of-tune praise song rang out from his mouth.

This was the song that Marwyn used to sing and chat with the Sheepstealer when he was alive, it had accompanied the Sheepstealer for one hundred and fifty years. The Sheepstealer was eighty years old when he recognized Marwyn as his master.

With the ugly singing, the Mountain's wildly beating heart gradually calmed down, he saw that the Sheepstealer's gaze seemed to only notice the live sheep in his hand that were constantly wailing and struggling.

The Mountain found that he suddenly raised his hand and threw out one of the live sheep.

When he realized it, the Mountain was severely frightened.

“What the hell am I doing? This is not the sacrificial rule that Old Teague taught!”

Old Teague was also greatly startled, his face turned pale, he had sacrificed for decades, and had never thrown the sacrifice like this, would this anger the son of the Fire God: the dragon.

The two generations of Red Hands who came to sacrifice were both frightened and apprehensive.

The Demon Mountain's strength was unmatched. In his nervousness, he subconsciously hurled the plump, bleating sheep into the air, sending it flying towards the cave entrance.

The sheep thief, who had been scrutinizing him, suddenly moved. Its dragon head was like a tightly compressed spring waiting to be released. The moment the pressure was off, the spring shot out with a 'whoosh'. In the blink of an eye, the sheep thief lunged out of the cave, extending its long neck. Yellow scales glinted, and its massive jaws opened. From its throat, a blinding golden-red light erupted, as if a dazzling sun had appeared. With a deafening boom, a ball of golden-red light surged from the sheep thief's maw, engulfing the airborne sheep.