Unlike modern people who stayed up past midnight, the horse people slept after dusk and woke before dawn.
By the time Daenerys got up, dressed, and walked out of her tent, Drogo’s khalasar was already bustling.
Women shouted at their children, warriors barked orders to strike the tents, and horses stamped and neighed.
Grey-black smoke and steam rising from iron pots blurred Dany’s vision.
The boiling horse meat, fresh warm horse manure outside the tents, and crushed grass beneath the hooves mixed into a bizarre yet vibrant scent.
Judging by the yolk-red sun just peeking over the distant horizon, Dany guessed it was no later than five in the morning.
Well, she wasn’t sure if she was right, because she didn’t even know what season it was here and now.
The world of *A Song of Ice and Fire* had no fixed seasonal changes.
The Stark family words, “Winter is Coming,” were no joke, but the sternest of warnings.
Here, a single season often lasted for years.
If a freezing, harvest-less winter dragged on too long, people would starve to death if they didn’t freeze first.
Every time a ‘long winter’ struck, more than half the population in the North of Westeros would perish.
If they were even unluckier and the ‘Long Night’ descended, it wouldn’t be surprising if ninety percent of the continent’s population was wiped out.
Breakfast was mutton stew—barley, onions, carrots, turnips, and mutton, sprinkled with pepper, saffron, and other spices, simmered for over an hour.
Her handmaids had started cooking long before Dany woke up.
Dany ate a massive copper bowl full of it, about the size of a cafeteria lunchbox.
After finishing, even she was surprised by her pregnant appetite.
Or perhaps it was because she had awakened the Mother of Dragons constitution and resonated with the black dragon’s soul in her dream last night?
She wasn’t sure if her constitution had actually improved, but she woke up full of energy and vigor.
Riding behind Drogo’s black stallion, Daenerys looked down at the black dragon egg cradled in her arms, lost in thought.
Barely half an hour after breakfast, bathed in the golden-red morning light, the massive khalasar slowly moved forward like a dark cloud.
It left a trail of devastation in its wake, like a brown stain smeared across a green canvas.
Wherever the Khal’s horse pointed, the khalasar followed.
Drogo was even more delirious than yesterday.
When he woke up, he didn’t even recognize Dany.
Let alone the mutton stew, he barely drank any mare’s milk.
His once burly, solid body was visibly shriveling, seemingly held up only by his jagged skeleton.
By noon, the lush green grass and farmers’ wheat fields grew sparse and eventually vanished, replaced by low hills and yellowish-brown sandy, rocky ground.
The merciless sun beat down like a newly rich tycoon recklessly flaunting his wealth, radiating light and heat without restraint.
The heat distorted the air above the ground into shimmering ripples.
Sweat trickled down Dany’s chest like tiny streams.
The only sounds left in the world were the steady clatter of hooves, the rhythmic chiming of the bells in Drogo’s hair, and the hushed conversations behind them.
The delirious Drogo had lost his way, straying from the Lhazar river basin and venturing deeper into the Red Waste to the south.
But the direction of the Khal’s horse was the direction of the horse people.
The horse people only ate breakfast and dinner.
If they got hungry at noon, they gnawed on jerky in the saddle.
The reddish-brown horse jerky was light and thin, with every muscle fiber clearly visible.
It was completely organic—something money couldn’t buy in her past life—but it was so tough it nearly cut the roof of Dany’s mouth.
She had to hold a mouthful of mare’s milk, puffing her cheeks, waiting for the soaked meat to slowly soften.
In the end, she actually tasted a strange sweetness.
The rhythmic thud of approaching hooves drew Dany’s attention.
She looked up to see Aggo’s warhorse kicking up a thin trail of reddish-brown dust as he galloped from the distance to Drogo’s side.
“Khal…
Khaleesi, the path ahead is desolate.
There are no people and no dangers, but the direction seems wrong,” Aggo said to Dany, casting a hesitant glance at Drogo.
The khalasar didn’t just blindly charge forward behind the Khal.
Outriders were scattered in all directions at all times, scouting the environment and keeping watch against ambushes from other khalasars.
Daenerys rode up beside Drogo.
Just as she was about to remind him to change course, her pupils suddenly shrank.
She pulled the reins, making her silver filly trot in a tight circle while she surveyed their surroundings: the horse people were trudging through a dark red, rocky desert.
An idea immediately formed in her mind.
“Ask no questions.
Keep moving forward…
Find a suitable place to make camp ahead.” Once Aggo left, Daenerys looked worriedly at Khal Drogo beside her.
They hadn’t been quiet, yet he hadn’t reacted at all.
Swarms of bloodflies circled slowly around Drogo, the buzzing of their wings echoing at the edge of Dany’s hearing.
Bloodflies were as large as bees, heavy-bodied and slightly purple, giving off a wet, sickening sheen.
They lived in swamps and stagnant pools, feeding on the blood of men and horses, and laying their eggs in corpses or dying creatures.
Drogo used to hate them.
Whenever a fly came near, his hand would strike like lightning, snatching it out of the air without fail.
He would hold the fly in his massive palm, letting it buzz frantically, before finally crushing it tight.
When he opened his hand, the fly would be nothing but a red smear on his palm.
Now, a bloodfly crawled across his stallion’s rump.
The horse flicked its tail angrily, trying to drive it away.
Other flies buzzed back and forth around Drogo, drawing closer and closer, yet the Khal did not react.
His gaze was fixed on the distant brown hills, the reins hanging loosely in his hands.
Eventually, a bloodfly landed on the Khal’s bare shoulder.
Another hovered for a moment before settling on his neck and crawling toward his mouth.
Khal Drogo swayed slightly in his saddle, the bells in his hair chiming softly, while his mount continued forward at a steady pace.
Finally, a bold bloodfly crawled up his long mustache, onto his cheek, and actually settled in the crease beside his nose.
Khal Drogo swayed in his saddle and slowly began to tilt to one side.
Dany, who had been watching him closely, shot her left hand out like a striking snake and yanked him back upright.
The swarm of bloodflies was startled, scattering for a heartbeat before circling back and landing on him again.
The next moment, the ever-present whispers from the crowd behind them erupted into a wave of uproar.
All the horse people were shocked.
“The Khal almost fell from his horse!” “A Khal who falls from his own horse…” The Khal was the leader of the khalasar, the direction they marched, the focus of everyone’s eyes.
His actions were scrutinized as if under a magnifying glass.
A Dothraki who could not ride wasn’t even fit to be a normal horseman, let alone the Khal of the tribe.
“Silence!
The Khal is still on his horse,” Dany shouted back, letting go of Drogo.
The terrifying moment had jolted Drogo awake, and he was now able to control the reins.
“Moon of my life…” For the first time in days, he looked at Dany consciously and called out to his ‘beloved’.
Daenerys felt a moment of awkwardness.
Searching her memories, she replied, “My sun and stars, do you want to stop and rest?” Her face must have been twisted in that moment.
But no one was paying attention to her expression anyway.
Drogo’s bloodriders had already spurred their horses over.
“Blood of my blood.” “Blood of my blood, how are you?” Without waiting for Drogo to speak, Daenerys immediately announced loudly, “The Khal commands it!
It is late, we make camp here.” “Here?” Haggo looked up at the sun hanging high in the sky—it was only around two or three in the afternoon.
He glanced around at the withered, brownish-yellow vegetation.
It was unfit for habitation.
He glared with his fierce, triangular eyes.
“We cannot make camp here.” “A woman has no right to order us to halt,” Qotho added.
“Not even a Khaleesi.” “It is Khal Drogo’s command,” Dany insisted stubbornly, issuing a false decree.
The old bloodrider Cohollo looked at her deeply, then turned to his two companions.
“Find the nearest water source.
Set up an oval camp between the Khal’s pavilion and the lake.” Qotho paused, then he and Haggo rode off to carry out the order.
Cohollo then began directing the men to pitch Drogo’s woven grass pavilion in the shade behind a hill.
Soon, word came from the front that a stream had been found.
The main host bypassed Daenerys and continued moving toward the water.
“Help me…
water…
I need water…
help me…” A faint cry for help came from a passing wooden cart.
The voice was weak, but it gave Dany a sense of familiarity.
The silver-haired Lilith!
After returning last night, she had asked Doreah about Lilith.
Like Doreah, she was a whore Illyrio had bought from Lys, given as a gift to Ko Jhaqo during Drogo’s wedding.
However, Doreah was the current top beauty, while Lilith, nearing thirty, could only be considered the former ‘number one whore’.
Now, she lay all alone in the creaking wooden cart.
The blood dripping from her lower body had soaked her dress.
One of her golden sandals had fallen off, and her pale calf swung unconsciously with the bumps of the cart.
“Wait.” Daenerys called out to the woman driving the cart.
Covering her nose to block the pungent stench of blood, she asked, “What happened to her?
Why isn’t anyone treating her?
Where are her handmaids?
She’s been begging for water, didn’t you hear?” “Khaleesi, Lady Lilith fell from her horse…” The black woman looked hesitant, unsure of how to continue.
This…
Dany froze.
Because of the deliberate provocation she had thrown at her yesterday, Lilith had actually tried to ride a horse today?
In truth, even the fiercest Dothraki women couldn’t continue riding on long treks when they were close to giving birth.
Therefore, in the traditions of the horse people, pregnant women riding in carts were not discriminated against.
Daenerys was a special case.
She had always had her dragon dreams to help her body recover, making her incredibly resilient.
Seeing Dany still looking at her, the woman continued in an ambiguous tone, “Because of her inappropriate words, Ko Jhaqo stripped her of her status as his wife.
Now she is a slave, just like me.
Naturally, she has no handmaids, and the hairless men will not treat a slave.” “What did she say?” Dany asked, though she already had a few guesses in her heart.
Before the emaciated black woman could answer, Lilith groaned deliriously from the cart, “My child…
Khal Jhaqo’s son…
save him…
He is the future Khal of Jhaqo’s tribe…
I am Khaleesi…
save me…” Ugh, did this woman really come from a brothel?
How could she be so utterly lacking in tact?
The black slave immediately collapsed to the ground in terror, her numb face suddenly filled with fear.
“Mercy, Khaleesi!
I…
I will drag her out to feed the dogs right now.” “Feed the dogs?” Dany asked in disbelief.
“Ko Jhaqo told me to drag her to the outskirts of the khalasar to feed the wild dogs,” the slave woman said.
“Is Jhaqo insane?
She’s carrying his child!” “She won’t be able to give birth.” The black slave pointed at Lilith’s somewhat deformed belly and explained, “She fell from her horse this morning.
Ko Jhaqo originally sent the hairless men to care for her, but she wouldn’t stop bleeding.
The healing women said she couldn’t be saved, but she stubbornly refused to die, and kept saying treasonous things…”