The hot air balloon rose higher and higher.
The earth below spread out, so wide its borders were invisible, so flat there were no undulations, stretching to the very edge of sight.
The wind blew from afar, and waves of grass surged layer upon layer.
Drogo thought to himself, this truly was a green “ocean.” At this moment, the Dothraki Sea became so tangible.
The winding procession on the grasslands was like a long snake, its body swaying as it swam forward through the sea.
A falcon suddenly appeared beside them.
It flew right next to the hot air balloon, wings spread wide, gliding motionlessly.
It turned its head, its bright black eyes glancing at them.
Daenerys held her breath and slowly reached out her hand.
Closer, closer.
The falcon banked, its wing tilting slightly, gliding past her fingertips and flying off into the distance.
She looked at Drogo happily.
“It’s so green.
I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight.
The feeling of flying in the air…
it’s wonderful.” Drogo reached out, tucked a stray lock of hair blown by the wind behind her ear, and gently stroked her face.
“It is the season of green now.
You should see it when the flowers bloom; dark red across the hills and fields, like a sea of blood stretching to the horizon.” “When the dry season arrives, the whole world turns grayish-brown.” Daenerys frowned.
“Then I don’t like the dry season,” she said.
“Grayish-brown is the color of withering, the color of death.” Drogo looked at her.
“I don’t like it either.” She continued to look down.
The hot air balloon drifted with the wind, floating further and further away.
After a long time, the firewood in the furnace burned out.
The hot air balloon began to descend slowly.
A group of people was already waiting below; the Bloodriders, leading dozens of riders, followed far behind the hot air balloon.
Seeing it descend, they reined in their horses and looked up, waiting.
The basket jolted slightly as it touched the ground.
Drogo didn’t let the hot air balloon sit idle.
Over the next few days, the Bloodriders and the six Bloodriders took turns going up in the hot air balloon to see.
To reduce weight, it carried two people at a time and flew twice a day.
Those who came down still had weak legs, but their mouths wouldn’t shut.
“Khal,” Koso said as he steadied himself, looking at him, “how…
how is that done?” The others all wore expressions of wide-eyed wonder, surrounding Drogo and talking incessantly.
Later, even the foreigners couldn’t stay still.
They were captured slaves: Lysene, Myrish, Tyroshi.
Among them were merchants who had traveled far and wide and seen the world; there were also craftsmen who built structures, ships, and wagons—men with calloused hands who had crafted many exquisite items.
But now, even they craned their necks, watching the hot air balloon take flight.
“The Khal of the grasslands,” an old craftsman murmured, looking up, “actually managed to tinker together something like this…” Drogo tried various ways to make Daenerys happy; he made a windmill and handed it to her.
Daenerys took it; as the wind blew, the blades began to spin with a whirring sound.
She stared at it for a long while before saying, “Thank you.” Then, holding the windmill in her left hand, she galloped on her horse.
The windmill whirred as she laughed like she had found a precious treasure.
In modern times, she would still be at an age where she’d be holding a candied hawthorn stick; how could she not love such a little trinket?
Daenerys always loved being by Drogo’s side; it made her feel comfortable, happy, and safe.
Drogo knew this well.
With him around, Viserys wouldn’t dare approach Daenerys.
If Viserys had no chance to bully Daenerys, her hatred for him wouldn’t increase.
Drogo needed Daenerys to see how mad Viserys was, to see how poorly he treated her.
So, he began to consciously avoid Daenerys.
“I’m going to continue selecting Bloodriders,” he said before riding away.
He knew Viserys would go to her.
Daenerys nodded and didn’t follow.
She mounted her White Dragon Horse and rode deep into the grasslands.