The joy of new birth was fleeting, but the harsh reality of hunger was cruel.
The three newly hatched hatchlings, after their initial affectionate curiosity, soon manifested the most primal instinct of apex predators—an insatiable appetite.
No longer content to nestle quietly in Daenerys’s arms, they began to emit anxious, high-pitched shrieks, gnawing at her clothes with their tiny but remarkably sharp teeth.
They were hungry.
Daenerys looked up at Victor Vance, her face filled with helpless anxiety.
Comet also slunk over at just the right moment, nuzzling his massive head against Victor and transmitting a crystal-clear thought of hunger.
Feeding four children caused their logistical pressure to surge instantaneously.
“Leave the food to me.” Not a trace of panic showed on Victor’s face.
He patted Comet’s neck and issued an order.
“Take to the skies, buddy.
We need an eagle’s eye.” Comet uttered an excited roar, unfolded his wings, and shot into the sky like a silver missile, circling hundreds of meters in the air.
Through the shared vision with Comet, the terrain of the entire Red Waste unfolded clearly in Victor’s mind like a satellite map of the highest precision.
“Found them.” In less than five minutes, Victor’s eyes lit up.
In a vast rocky area several kilometers from their camp, he spotted a small herd of about a dozen creatures grazing on a stubborn lichen.
Similar in build to goats, their coats were a reddish-brown that blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding sand and stone.
They were desert antelopes, among the few surviving fauna in this wasteland.
“Ser Jorah,” Victor turned to the nearby knight, “it’s time for your sword to drink blood.
Three kilometers ahead at the pass, I need you to prepare today’s dinner for the Queen.” Jorah paused in surprise.
Though he didn’t understand what Victor was planning, he accepted the order without a moment’s hesitation.
“As you command, my lord.” Watching Jorah’s departing figure, Victor swung onto Comet’s saddle and strapped himself in tight.
“It’s our turn to perform, Comet,” he chuckled through the mental link.
“Today, we’re playing a game of modern air-to-ground coordinated hunting.” A hunt that would shatter this world’s understanding had begun.
Riding Comet, Victor climbed silently to an altitude of a thousand meters, hovering like a phantom directly above the rocky outcrop where the antelopes hid.
Calculating wind speed, shockwave radius…
Victor’s mind raced, precisely calculating the optimal dive angle and point of entry.
“Now!” He yanked down hard on Comet’s neck.
Man and dragon plummeted vertically like a bird of prey with broken wings!
Three hundred meters above the ground, Victor gave the command: “Level out and skim the ground—supersonic!” Comet pulled in his massive wings as brilliant light burst from their tips.
Guided by Victor, his giant frame shifted from a vertical dive to low-altitude flight in an unfathomable display, skimming the ground like a silver razor and flashing over the rocky terrain faster than the speed of sound!
A flash of red light vanished into the distance, and only moments later did the thundering roar catch up—BOOM!
The delayed sonic boom exploded like the wrath of the gods!
The terrifying shockwave struck the rocky terrain like an invisible sledgehammer.
Several desert antelopes grazing peacefully were instantly knocked unconscious by the sudden blast.
The rest bolted in terror, fleeing aimlessly like headless flies as they ran out from the cover of the rocks and onto the open wastes.
And the direction of their panic-stricken flight was straight toward the pass where Jorah Mormont lay in ambush.
Everything after that was simple.
Jorah needed only to stand his ground and swing his blade.
One after another, the utterly terrified antelopes walked right into his trap and collapsed at his feet.
By the time Victor landed smoothly aboard Comet, Jorah was staring dumbfounded at the five antelope carcasses on the ground, then looking up at the sky with a complex mix of shock, awe, and disbelief.
Once again, he was thoroughly awed by Victor’s godlike methods.
The food crisis had been perfectly solved in a manner as efficient as it was dramatic.
That night by the camp bonfire, the three hatchlings tasted bloody raw meat for the first time, tearing into it excitedly with satisfying shrieks.
Having resolved their most pressing survival problem, Victor gathered Daenerys and Jorah for the small team’s first Small Council meeting.
“We cannot stay in this wasteland forever,” Jorah spoke first, his tone far more respectful than before.
“Your Grace, we should head to Qarth.
The Thirteen are rich beyond measure.
They will surely be interested in your true dragons, providing you with wealth and ships to help you return to Westeros.” This was the advice Jorah had given in the original timeline, and seemingly the most logical path.
However, Victor rejected it without hesitation.
“No.” His voice was soft, but sharp as steel.
“Ser, your thinking is flawed.
Those merchants in Qarth are not allies; they are jackals.” Victor’s eyes were razor-sharp, as if piercing through the future.
“They will not help the Queen; they will only covet her dragons.
They will trap us there with sweet words, then lock the Queen and her children inside their palaces like exotic playthings until they wring out every last drop of value.” His words sent a chill through both Daenerys and Jorah.
Giving them no time to digest it, Victor unrolled a simple map and jabbed his finger firmly onto the other side of the Essos continent—a region infamous for blood and brutality.
“Slaver’s Bay.” “What we need is not the charity of wealthy merchants, but an invincible legion loyal to you alone.” His voice carried a magnetic, persuasive power.
“We are going to Astapor.
There, soldiers undergo the harshest training from the day they are born.
They know no pain, fear no death, and are the most perfect soldiers in the world.
They are called the Unsullied.” Jorah was struck speechless by Victor’s earth-shattering plan.
“But…
my lord, those slave masters…
they won’t part with all their Unsullied easily!
That is their foundation!” “They will.” A confident smile curled at the corner of Victor’s lips.
He looked toward Daenerys, looking at the queen who had just been reborn from the flames.
Daenerys’s purple eyes flickered with deep thought.
Beg for help from others, or seize power with her own hands?
After Illyrio’s betrayal and Victor’s sharp breakdown, the choice had become crystal clear.
She slowly stood up, her small body casting a towering shadow in the flickering firelight.
She looked at Jorah Mormont and issued her very first decree since taking the throne, speaking in an undeniable, queenly tone: “Ser, we shall beg no longer.” “We will go free the slaves and forge them into our sword to sweep across the continent.” “This is an order.” Jorah Mormont bowed his head deeply and dropped to one knee.
“As you command, my Queen.” Victor looked at the young woman with resolute determination in her eyes and nodded in satisfaction.
He knew that under his guidance, this dragon—once destined for destruction—had now flown onto the correct trajectory.
Yet he knew in his heart that to take the Unsullied army from those cunning, greedy slave masters without shedding a drop of blood required a bargaining chip far heavier than Valyrian steel, gold, or silver.
He glanced at the hatchling sleeping soundly in his arms, a mysterious smile touching his lips.
With their goal clear and morale soaring like never before, they packed their gear, boarded a sea vessel, and sailed swiftly under the morning light away from the Red Waste—the land that had witnessed miracles and rebirth—heading toward Slaver’s Bay, a place brimming with civilization and wealth, but intertwined with blood and sin.