Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

In the chaotic warring eras of the Celestial Empire's history, if Jon had been granted the position of Commander of the Kingsguard, he might have developed ambitions of rebellion against Empress Dany.

However, in this world, the chances of Jon doing such a thing were incredibly slim—if not impossible. He only had a small number of direct subordinates, and the captains within the Kingsguard under his command were all direct vassals of Dany.

To illustrate this, take the example of Robb Stark. When he led his cavalry to ambush Jaime Lannister, he left the command of the Northern infantry to Roose Bolton.

Seeing that Robb was courting disaster and that the North was on the verge of losing the war, Roose Bolton began to harbor thoughts of betrayal.

But even though he commanded the infantry, those troops were made up of soldiers from over a dozen noble houses. Bolton could not directly control their leaders, as they were all direct vassals of the King in the North, just like him.

Thus, Roose could only use underhanded tactics—sending other nobles' soldiers to die at Tywin's hands—until only his own men remained.

Only then was he able to successfully betray the North.

As for the other members of the Rose Company, their loyalty to Jon Bolton was not absolute—because there was no direct fealty between them. The mercenary company elected its leader rather than following a hereditary system.

Lyra Umber, Bruce Wayne, and Hermann Tohar's fathers had all served as captains of the Rose Company before.

In fact, the previous captain was Bruce Wayne's father, while Jon's mother—a woman with a notorious reputation for her promiscuity, to the point that Jon never even knew who his real father was—had not even held a squad leader position. She was merely an ordinary member, a burden to the group.

The members of the Rose Company might band together for survival, but they would never betray their sworn liege, Dany, for a single individual.

Unless, of course, the Targaryen family's so-called "Mad Blood" flared up, and Dany became as tyrannical as the "Mad King" Aerys, provoking universal outrage.

Despite the advantages of a feudal system, Dany had no intention of copying Westeros' structure entirely. She would adopt policies flexibly based on the actual situation.

But all of that was still far off—she hadn't even taken Yunkai yet, so it was too soon to be dreaming of "Empress Dany."

Just as Dany was hesitating between launching a swift assault on Yunkai with her 50,000-strong army or conducting a traditional siege by gathering supplies and manpower, a new report arrived from the city that very night.

Dany handed the parchment made of sheepskin to Jon and sighed.

"You guessed correctly. The Great Masters of Yunkai have ordered a scorched earth strategy. The estate owners of the Yunkai Plains are gathering within the city. All available grain, livestock, and resources are being moved inside, while whatever cannot be taken is being burned. The wheat, corn, and other crops in the fields have also been set ablaze. Wells are either sealed or poisoned."

Jon's expression darkened.

"If our assault fails, even if we aren't completely wiped out, this northern campaign for liberation will end in failure."

"Your Majesty, we have a superior army. Why not fight the slavers head-on?" Barristan Selmy said gravely. "We can conscript the newly freed slaves as laborers to transport our supplies. That way, Astapor's agriculture and industry won't be affected."

The Yunkai and Ghiscari coalition had provided Dany with nearly 70,000 enslaved captives. She had selected 15,000 of the strongest to form her Kingsguard army.

As for the rest, they were granted Astapori citizenship. Those with trades settled in the city, while those unable to find work were given 30 acres of land each in the Worm River Plains to become farmers.

Dany frowned. She knew that the "Long Night" was coming, and that focusing on production was the true path to survival.

She couldn't afford to divert all her resources into war, nor could she allow the northern campaign to drag into a prolonged conflict.

After staring at Yunkai's position on the map in deep thought for a long while, a sudden idea struck her. She burst into laughter.

"Heavens! How foolish of me! Why not use Tian Ji's strategy?"

She had spoken in Valyrian, yet none of the commanders around her understood what she meant.

"Your Majesty, what are you saying?" the red-haired knight Lyra Umber asked.

"The plan remains unchanged. Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow morning, we march north!" Dany commanded with determination.

"With only half a month's worth of supplies?" Scarback Simon frowned. "Do you have absolute confidence in a swift victory, Your Majesty?"

Dany smirked and tapped a particular spot on the map.

"Heh… Here's how my plan works—"

---

By the following evening, the golden sunset bathed the ancient city of Yunkai in a crimson hue, as if foreshadowing the impending bloodshed and fire.

Yet, within the grand palace atop the Great Pyramid, the atmosphere was one of merriment and laughter. The Great Masters were in excellent spirits, thrilled by the reports they had received:

The Mother of Dragons had been reckless, marching forth with 50,000 troops carrying only half a month's worth of rations on a 600-kilometer-long campaign toward their fortified city.

"Hahaha! That woman is still too young and inexperienced!" Grazdan mo Ullhor laughed heartily, seemingly having recovered from his recent humiliating defeat.

Of the seven Great Masters from Yunkai, three Great Masters from Meereen, and ten high-ranking slave owners who had joined the Ghiscari coalition, only three Great Masters and one Meereenese Lord had managed to escape the battlefield alive.

Among them, Grazdan of Yunkai was particularly fortunate. Unlike his Astapori counterpart, he had survived the complete annihilation of the coalition army—despite being its supreme commander—without so much as a scratch.

With a lean and wiry frame, he possessed exceptional endurance. While the other two Great Masters were still on their way back, he had pushed his horses to the limit, riding four to death, and crossed the 600-kilometer stretch in just three days to return to Yunkai.

After resting for only a day at home, he shamelessly attended the council of the Great Masters the very next day—without the slightest hint of guilt.

"Inexperienced?"

A fat man draped in a yellow silk tokar with golden tassels glanced disdainfully at the increasingly gaunt and dark-skinned Grazdan with his yellow eyes, then sneered, "May I ask how our esteemed supreme commander of the allied army ended up fleeing back alone after being defeated by an 'inexperienced' woman? You took the entire fifty-thousand-strong army that we spent half a year preparing, didn't you?"

The fat man was not seated at the round table. Instead, he lounged alone by the massive stained-glass window, basking in the multicolored glow. His body, like a boneless slab of fat, sprawled across an enormous two-meter-wide bamboo chair.

The nearest wise masters sat four or five meters away. Even so, those closest to him had grim expressions, covering their noses with handkerchiefs, as if the man exuded an unbearable stench.

"This wasn't my fault. She has dragons. Warhorses turn weak-kneed at the sound of a dragon's roar. Dragons are nearly invincible in open-field battles—whoever replaces me would face the same result." Grazdan defended himself.

The fat man curled his lips, swept his gaze around the room, and said indifferently, "Which is why I originally said there was no need to provoke her. Let her stay peacefully in Astapor while we continue our comfortable lives. Wouldn't coexistence be a better choice—"

"Pffft—"

A revolting sound came from the fat man's rear. Almost immediately, a thick and pungent stench of rot spread throughout the hall.

His doughy face turned red, and the nearby wise masters, unable to endure the smell, covered their noses and hastily retreated.

Yes. The fat man had soiled himself mid-conversation.

Some wise masters fled their seats, while others grimaced and fanned the air, but none seemed surprised. Clearly, this was not the first time the fat man had done something like this in public.

"Apologies, my brothers! A chronic issue!" The fat man forced an awkward smile.

—No mistake, no omission. Read it first at 69Shuba!—

The Grand Wise Master, Mourinho, spoke coldly, "Yunkai's richest man or not, Yezan, if not for your wealth and ability to fund our resistance against the Mother of Dragons, I would never have allowed you to pollute my palace in the first place.

So, if you can't control your bowels, at least control your mouth. Don't spew filth more foul than what's in your trousers."

Yezan's rear continued to make squelching noises. Several slaves quickly approached to lift his massive body, while two young, attractive servant girls knelt down to clean him.

Hearing Mourinho's words, Yezan, enjoying the ministrations of his servants, chuckled lazily, **"Mourinho, my wisdom compels me to speak wise words. You lack such wisdom, which is why you can't comprehend what I say. Bringing me here was a waste of time.

If you need contributions for military expenses or to hire the Faceless Men, speak with my steward. Don't waste my time."**

A glint of coldness flashed through the Grand Wise Master's eyes. He sneered, "Very well. You need not come tomorrow. The Quagaz family estate on the Yunkai Plains will be seized by the alliance."

"What do you want my estate for?" Yezan Zo Quagaz asked in confusion. But the moment the realization struck him, his expression changed drastically. "You're really going that far? The Mother of Dragons only demands the emancipation of slaves—she's not trying to exterminate the Ghiscari! Why do this?"

"Heh. Without slaves, who will clean up your filth?" Grazdan sneered.

"You—" Yezan shot him a venomous glare, then turned to his attendants. "We're leaving. This place isn't fit for the living—only ghosts reside here."

Mourinho's face darkened instantly. The other wise masters cursed Yezan's entire family under their breath, though one simple-minded fool still turned to his companion in confusion. "What does that shit-pig mean?"

The Grand Wise Master's gaze turned icy. In a chilling voice, he declared, "Today's topic: how to enforce a complete scorched-earth policy."

Half a month had passed since Daenerys' assassination attempt.

It was near dusk. The setting sun, like a wounded beast slashed open, wobbled as it sank beyond the horizon, painting the vast plains in a flood of crimson.

Two hundred kilometers outside Kayakyon, along the main road, the thorny stems of wild red roses trembled ever so slightly. A cricket nestled within the heart of a flower suddenly stopped sipping its sweet nectar. Its antennae twitched, as if listening intently.

Moments later, as if struck by lightning, the cricket tensed, pushed off with its powerful hind legs, and arced through the air before burrowing into the cracks of a nearby rock.

At first, a faint drumming noise echoed from the distant horizon. Then, gradually, the earth began to quake. A massive wave of yellow dust surged forward like a roaring dragon.

"Boom—boom—boom—"

A robust silver stallion charged down the road like the wind, its hooves kicking up clouds of golden dust.

Upon its back sat an armored female knight, her crimson cape billowing fiercely in the wind, resembling a battle flag rallying the warriors behind her.

Fifty thousand cavalry. One hundred thousand oxen and horses. The mightiest force ever assembled on this land.

The earth trembled beneath them, an endless cloud of dust stretching for miles.

The flowers and grasses of the fields shuddered—just like the hearts of the wise masters—under the relentless pounding of hooves.

"Screeeech—"

"Screeeech—"

"Screeeech—"

Three battle-scarred dragons, stronger than ever, circled in the sky, their roars brazenly announcing their dominion.

(End of Chapter)

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