Chapter 192: Traitor and the Dragon’s Horn

Mirri Maz Duur.

When Viserys heard the name, a rush of memories flooded his mind. After the Horselords had sacked Lhazareen, the Mother of Dragons had saved Mirri Maz Duur. But instead of gratitude, she repaid the kindness by turning Drogo into a vegetative state and killing her child, Rhaego. Her reason? Drogo had destroyed her home with the Dothraki. Her motive was pure revenge.

Viserys had believed this narrative until he learned that she wanted to meet with him. Connington had finally agreed to arrange the meeting after she had persistently requested it for nearly two months.

But what puzzled Viserys was the sudden appearance of this priestess—a woman who had learned about herbs from the Dothraki, studied medicine in Asshai, mastered the birth songs of the Moonsingers, and explored human anatomy in the Citadel of Westeros—in Tyrosh.

'If her arrival had triggered a chain of events leading to the Horselords plundering her homeland, that would be understandable,' Viserys thought. 'But why does she want to see me?'

The more he pondered, the more suspicious this all seemed. Given her mastery of blood magic, which in the original story allowed her to use Rhaego's life to save Drogo, Viserys couldn't help but wonder. Even though he had reached the level of a master in blood magic, he couldn't perform such feats without direct contact.

According to his understanding—and confirmed by Shiera—the use of blood magic required physical contact. This revelation made Viserys suspect that Mirri's real target had been the Mother of Dragons all along. 'It's the only explanation that makes sense,' he reasoned. 'Otherwise, how could a woman as knowledgeable and powerful as Mirri have been captured by a group of horsemen? Someone who has traveled the world should have been able to defend herself.'

'Yet, if her goal had been to harm the Mother of Dragons, why didn't she take her after killing Rhaego? Why leave her behind? This woman was far too suspicious.'

"Take me to her," Viserys ordered.

Crack!

A bright orange flame ignited the match, lighting a red spark on the cigarette. In the quiet, secluded hall, Viserys lit the cigarette, took a deep breath, and exhaled white smoke through his nostrils. The fat witch, Mirri Maz Duur, standing before him, watched his movements with curiosity. She sniffed the air with her broad nose, finding the scent harsh but betraying no discomfort.

Cigarettes were still a rarity, popular mostly in the Disputed Lands. It was no surprise that Myr, hailing from the other side of Essos, had never seen one before.

"I hear you're a godswife of the Great Shepherd. What brings you to Tyrosh?" Viserys asked, deliberately adopting a casual tone to throw her off guard.

"Prince Viserys," she began, "I have studied the art of healing in Asshai, the birth songs of the Moonsingers among the Dothraki, and the secrets of the flesh in Westeros. I hope to be of service to you."

Viserys took another drag on his cigarette, recognizing that she was testing him just as much as he was testing her.

"Is that all? You traveled thousands of leagues from the far east to the far west of Essos for this?" Viserys asked, skepticism lacing his voice.

The fat witch responded, "Prince Viserys, I hope you will accept my people. The Dothraki destroyed our homeland, and we have nowhere else to go."

She explained that they had hoped to settle in a Free City that did not practice slavery. Braavos was their first choice, but to reach it, they would have to pass through Qohor and Norvos—an impossible journey with only a thousand people. So they had set their sights on Tyrosh instead. Though Tyrosh was a Free City, the conditions for slaves now were better than in other places.

"Many of my people are skilled in herbal medicine and healing. They can serve you," she added, carefully choosing her words to avoid disrespect.

To the average person, her reasoning might seem flawless, but Viserys knew better. He sensed that she wasn't telling the full truth. The safest course of action would be to kill her or imprison her and have Meris interrogate her. But after some thought, neither option seemed wise. He couldn't be certain of her true motives or who she might be working for, and killing her wouldn't necessarily solve the problem. As for interrogation, he remembered how, in the original tale, Mirri Maz Duur had faced death on the pyre calmly—death held no fear for her.

After careful consideration, Viserys decided to keep her alive for the time being. He called for a servant to bring a cage containing a carrier pigeon. "This is a carrier pigeon I've trained. You can use it to contact me."

The fat witch, seeing that Viserys had accepted her, bowed her short, stout body in gratitude.

"I will also assign six Unsullied to protect your safety," Viserys added. The fat witch understood that by 'protection,' he really meant 'surveillance,' but she accepted it without protest.

Mirri's arrival unsettled Viserys. He knew Dany was the Princess of the prophecy, the one reborn in the land of smoke and salt, the one destined to awaken the dragons.

If the fat witch was here for the Mother of Dragons, it could be part of a greater struggle between the Red God and the Cold God. Who said the Cold God only raised the dead beyond the Wall? Perhaps he had agents on the mortal plane as well.

Viserys decided he needed to keep an eye on Euron. He was determined to obtain Valyrian armor for Dany, something that could protect her from magic. Putting his doubts aside for now, he resumed his close monitoring of Euron.

In his Dragon Dreams, Viserys found himself hovering around the outskirts of the ruined city of Valyria, unable to enter. He had observed this through his dreams dozens of times, circling the ruins for nearly a month without finding a suitable entrance. Following Euron's perspective, he and his puppet stand-ins climbed a high mound that resembled a crater. It was clear that this mini-crater had formed alongside the ruins of Valyria. From his vantage point, Euron noticed, three or four hundred paces away, what seemed to be a dozen giant skeletons.

Judging by the ribs of these skeletons, it was possible to roughly determine the postures in which they died. Some lay on their backs, others on their stomachs, and a few on their sides. Rows of dark ribs jutted toward the sky, resembling a forest of dragon skeletons. In other words, these dozen dragons were shot down in a short period of time.

Euron was cautious and did not approach himself. Instead, he controlled his puppet to move closer to the nearest skeleton. Judging by the orientation of the ribs, this one must have been lying on its side. As the puppet approached, Viserys realized that the torso alone was as wide as a train carriage—perhaps even wider. Including the tail and head, the dragon would have measured around 60 to 70 meters in length. To support such a massive body, each rib must have been as thick as an adult's leg, indicating that it was indeed an adult dragon.

The question then arose: what could have killed such a powerful creature? And more importantly, what could have wiped out a group of them?

Viserys began to recall the injuries sustained by the Black Dread. It was said that when the Black Dread returned with Princess Aerea, it bore jagged, torn wounds. Such injuries could only have been caused by an animal bite or contact with a sharp object. In other words, the dragon was either bitten before it took off or was shot down after taking flight.

Euron continued to guide his puppet toward the largest skeleton. This one was two sizes larger than the previous. The ribs alone extended over ten meters, suggesting that the dragon's body length must have exceeded 100 meters, placing it on the same scale as the Black Dread.

Two rows of ribs pierced the sky like twin rows of black pillars. Euron searched around the largest skeleton, and when he entered the space between the ribs, he discovered a bulge resembling a crouching human figure. He drew his sword and poked at it, finding a hard object beneath the dust. Brushing it off, he revealed a skeleton clad in armor.

"Valyrian armor!" he exclaimed, noting the precious patterns that adorned it. The armor also revealed the identity of its owner—a Dragonlord of Valyria. This Valyrian must have been riding on the dragon when it fell to its death.

Regardless of how he died, the sight of Valyrian steel armor filled both Euron and Viserys with joy. Euron was elated because his three months of searching had finally paid off, while Viserys was thrilled because he knew that this treasure would eventually be his.

Euron ordered his sailors to drag the corpse out, but they discovered that the Dragonlord was still clutching something in his arms. When they pried his hands apart, they found a horn.

'The Dragon's Horn!'

The horn was unexpectedly long, almost 1.6 meters. It was a gleaming black, with a shimmering dark light, and was wrapped in red gold and Valyrian black steel stripes. The stripes were inscribed with strange ancient runes, like some kind of spell.

Euron carefully examined the horn, noticing his distorted reflection on its shiny surface. As he looked at his reflection, he touched the scars and holes on his face. He felt an urge to blow into the horn but resisted.

'Valyrian armor, the Dragon's Horn, and there should be a dragon egg as well, right?' Viserys thought. Remembering Euron's return from Valyria in the original tale, Viserys expected him to continue the search.

However, he found nothing else until he had stripped the corpse completely.

'Maybe it's somewhere else? Or perhaps others managed to escape from here?' Viserys thought, his gaze drifting over the dozen dead dragons surrounding him. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

The Valyrian who held the horn must have seen the end coming. He had fled with his family and a dozen dragons, but they likely encountered some danger shortly after taking flight, causing the dragons to die en masse. The Valyrian himself had fallen and died along with them. Judging by the number of dragons around, it was likely he hadn't fled alone—there might be other family members and friends nearby.

It was clear that Euron had reached the same conclusion. He ordered his mute sailors to spread out and search for any suspicious traces. With dozens of dragons having fallen across an area the size of two or three football fields, it would take a while for even a dozen people to comb through it all. Euron, however, seemed less concerned about finding dragon eggs. Unlike in the original tale where only three eggs existed, Viserys now had five in his possession and knew the whereabouts of two more. Whether Euron found the eggs or not, it didn't matter to him.

Just as Viserys was about to end the Dragon Dream, a sudden commotion erupted. The mute sailors were making strange "ee-ee-ee" noises, their faces pale with terror. Euron sensed something was wrong and ran toward them.

In the next instant, about a hundred paces away, something as thick as a water tank burst through the ground. It was like a black and red stone pillar, but it slowly bent like a tentacle. The tip of the tentacle was covered in white bone spines. The sailors, startled and fleeing, had little chance to react as the tentacle suddenly exploded open like a blooming flower, each thick petal lined with razor-sharp spines. It was a Firewyrm!

The wyrm reared back as if inhaling, then unleashed a torrent of flames, incinerating the sailors around it. The orange flames ignited the mute sailors one by one, turning them into human torches.

Euron, seeing this monstrous creature, immediately dropped the armor and dragon horn he had been holding. He no longer wanted anything except to escape. But where could he go in this desolate place?

'Yes! The pit!'

Realizing this, Euron turned and ran back the way he had come. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the Firewyrm had already bitten a mute sailor in half, leaving only the legs still twitching outside its jaws.