Chapter 4: The Plan

James stood up from his seat, gripping his massive arakhs with golden-threaded blades that shimmered in shades of blue.

Tall and muscular, he possessed a streamlined physique reminiscent of a poised cheetah, ready to unleash immense power in an instant.

In contrast, Moro, who had initially appeared strong, now seemed comparatively slender.

Tension filled the air as the potential battle between the two chieftains loomed.

However, reality intervened, and the fight never erupted. Moro may have been fierce and skilled in combat, but he was not foolish.

He understood that he stood no chance against James in a one-on-one confrontation. Drogo was ten years younger, in the prime of his youth, while Moro was entering middle age.

Moreover, over the past two years, Drogo's tribe had constantly raided the resources of other tribes, fueling their war machine. They targeted ordinary villages, the Lazarene people, and even the Dothraki themselves.

The number of Kao who fell by James's hand was beyond count.

If a battle were to take place here, it would undoubtedly be Moro who perishes.

"Hmph! Drogo, we shall see!" Moro stepped back, glared at James with a sinister look, and decisively led his men in retreat.

Though Moro might not match Drogo in strength, he was confident that his cunning would enable him to outmaneuver James, whom he perceived as a reckless fool.

Among the Dothraki on the Dothraki Sea, Moro was one of the few Khals who possessed strategic thinking and employed tactics.

"You know nothing," James murmured, momentarily allowing Moro to escape. He chose not to kill him on the spot, considering it was his wedding venue, and he did not wish to frighten Daenerys.

However, this did not mean he was soft-hearted.

James already contemplated how to eliminate Moro with minimal effort after the wedding, how to annex his tribe without undue expenditure.

With Moro's forty thousand riders and eight thousand screamers, James's tribe would become the undisputed ruler of the entire Dothraki Sea in one swift stroke!

A grand army of one hundred thousand!

Unless the other tribes chose to unite against James, his unification of the entire Dothraki was just a matter of time!

And then there were the Free Trade Federation of Pentos and Bravos.

The entirety of the Essos continent lay within James's sights!

However, what James desired most at this moment was to marry the mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen, and bring her home. She was still a fledgling, perfect for training.

At that moment, a sharp voice rang out.

"The King of Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and the Protector of the Realm."

"Viserys III of House Targaryen and his sister, the Princess of Dragonstone, Daenerys Stormborn."

"Their sponsor, Governor Illyrio Mopatis of the Free Trade Federation of Pentos, has arrived!"

In an instant, all eyes turned towards the door, fixated on the radiant protagonists.

James also gazed towards the entrance and immediately noticed the distinguished and beautiful Daenerys.

Her long hair, a beautiful blend of silver and gold, cascaded down. Clad in a deep purple silk gown that accentuated her violet eyes, she wore golden ornaments that glimmered in the light.

The actor who portrayed Daneryes in the show did her justice.

Beside her stood Viserys, her elder brother, with restless hands and a feverish expression in his pale lilac eyes.

Although he shared the same hair and eyes as Daenerys, their temperaments couldn't be more different.

Governor Illyrio Mopatis, a portly man, adorned in luxurious attire that barely concealed his bulging belly, was also present.

A serene, Maitreya Buddha-like smile constantly graced his face. However, those who truly knew Illyrio understood that beneath the smile lay a cunning and sly merchant, far more dangerous than he appeared.

As James assessed the three of them, they, too, scrutinized him.

Viserys' eyes sparkled with intrigue. "My dear sister, have you seen the length of his hair? Every time the Dothraki suffer defeat, they cut off their braids in shame. Khal Drogo has never known defeat in his life. He can be called the living Dragon King, and you shall be his Queen!"

Daenerys looked up at James, her voice as soft as a frightened rabbit. "Viserys, I do not wish to marry him. I want to go home."

"Go home?" Viserys sneered, his words filled with anger. He tightly gripped Daenerys' arm, his nails nearly piercing her skin. "Daenerys, tell me, which home shall we return to? Our home was long taken from us!"

Daenerys burst into tears, her voice choked with sorrow. "I do not know..."

Viserys laughed coldly. "Then let me enlighten you. We shall reclaim our home with an army, and only if you marry him shall we secure that army!"

"I would agree even if he, along with the forty thousand riders of his Karasa tribe, took you one by one, if it means obtaining that army. If necessary, we shall even take their horses."

"Now, consider yourself fortunate that only one person claims you. Wipe away your tears quickly. Illyrio is about to bring him over, and I do not wish him to see you weeping."

Daenerys turned her head, and indeed, Governor Illyrio approached with a smile, bowing as he accompanied James toward them.

Daenerys hastily used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Do as I say, or face the consequences!" Viserys spoke, his voice betraying a nervous and trembling undertone.