Chapter 41: The Might of the Dragon
Seeing that the moment was right, Drogon dove sharply toward a wounded Unsullied. The tip of his wing sliced past one of the guards attacking the man—blood burst forth instantly. The guard clutched his throat and collapsed, twitching twice before going still.
After claiming his first kill, Drogon streaked toward the guards surrounding Jorah. With a single swipe of his claw, he tore open a man's neck. The ruptured artery sprayed even more blood than a slit throat.
Only after two men fell in quick succession did the guards realize something was wrong.
Drogon was simply too fast. In the darkness, all they saw was a fleeting black shadow—then another comrade dropping lifelessly, hands pressed to his neck.
Now, as they fought Jorah and the others, they also had to fear a deadly shadow that could strike at any moment.
As morale shifted, Jorah and his companions gradually reversed their disadvantage, reforming a tight defensive formation.
Drogon did not slaughter indiscriminately, nor did he breathe fire. He struck only when someone was in danger or close to collapse. He wasn't about to waste such a perfect opportunity to temper Daenerys's warriors—his long-standing habit of training dragons had seamlessly extended to training men.
With Drogon repeatedly saving them at critical moments, the five fighters grew bolder. Within ten minutes, aided by the dragon, they wiped out enemies that outnumbered them dozens to one.
The five sprinted along their planned route toward the main gate, while Drogon flew overhead, scouting the terrain and monitoring enemy movement.
The main gate had clearly received word of the breach at the small gate. Guards were arriving in scattered groups. Knowing Jorah and the others were nearly exhausted, Drogon landed atop a nearby rooftop and triggered his transformation.
In an instant, he assumed his full-grown form.
A fifteen-meter wingspan blotted out the moonlight, plunging the street below into darkness.
Both allies and enemies froze, staring skyward. All they could see was a colossal shadow coiled above them—like a demon descending upon the city.
Only when moonlight reflected off the crimson membranes of the wings did Daario realize the truth.
"That's… Drogon?" he demanded, stunned.
Jorah confirmed it with a grim nod. Daario was shaken. He had never imagined that Drogon could change size—nor that his full-grown form would be this terrifying. Compared to the other two dragons that often flew overhead, Drogon was more than twice as large.
The guards of Yunkai had never seen a dragon of such magnitude. Their charge stopped dead in its tracks.
ROAR—!
A thunderous dragon's roar tore through the night sky, echoing across all of Yunkai. Every guard froze in terror, staring toward its source.
The roar woke the Wise Masters and slaves alike. People spilled from their rooms, scrambling to discover what had happened.
The Masters no longer cared about the women in their beds. Hastily pulling on their trousers, they ran toward the walls in panic. They had never imagined Daenerys would attack without waiting for their reply—nor that she would bring a dragon to the battlefield.
As guards stood stunned, Drogon unleashed a torrent of black-red dragonfire. Dozens were instantly engulfed in flames.
The survivors broke.
Shadow overhead, fire before their eyes—their will to fight shattered completely. Weapons clattered to the ground as they fled. Even the gate guards abandoned their posts.
Drogon ceased breathing fire and skimmed low along the city walls. His massive shadow swallowed the ramparts as his claws passed overhead. No one dared remain on the walls; guards scrambled down to hide.
ROAR!
ROAR!
Two weaker dragon cries answered from afar.
Rhaegal and Viserion, who had been hovering near Daenerys's army, could no longer stay put. Hearing Drogon's call, they surged skyward and joined him, spiraling at high speed above the walls.
The Yunkai garrison collapsed completely. Not a single soldier raised a spear to throw.
Without waiting for the signal, Daenerys knew the moment had come. She ordered the Unsullied and mercenaries forward.
With no resistance, Jorah and the others threw open the gates, welcoming the army into the city.
Daenerys commanded part of the Unsullied to seize the Wise Masters, while the rest eliminated all remaining resistance.
Wherever they encountered slaves, they cut away the collars from their necks and restored their freedom. Mercenaries were strictly forbidden from looting, burning, or killing indiscriminately.
Most of Yunkai's defenders were slaves themselves. Once the Unsullied freed their fellows—and with dragons looming overhead—the slave soldiers threw down their weapons and surrendered.
The siege was over in less than half an hour.
Nearly all the Wise Masters were captured. Slaves were freed one after another. After entering the city, Jorah and the others led troops to seize the Masters' pyramids, calm the frightened populace, and restore order throughout Yunkai.
Once things were more or less settled, Jorah, Grey Worm, and the others finally dragged their exhausted bodies back to the council chamber. Every one of them was wounded. The Unsullied called Little Sparrow was hurt the worst—Grey Worm had to support him just to keep him on his feet.
"Missandei," Daenerys said solemnly as she looked at the blood-soaked five, "record all of their merits in detail. I will reward them properly. When we return to the Seven Kingdoms, I will grant them lands and titles."
"We do not ask for rewards," Grey Worm stepped forward and said. "We only wish to remain by Your Grace's side."
"You will remain by my side," Daenerys replied, meeting his eyes, "but rewards are what you have earned. You are not slaves. Effort must be answered with recompense. You are my officer—the commander of the Unsullied. From now on, do not call yourself 'this one.' Say 'I.'"
"Yes, Your Grace." Grey Worm bowed and stepped back.
Daenerys then walked over to the most seriously injured soldier.
"What is your name? How badly are you hurt?"
"Your Grace… I—I am Little Sparrow. It's only a small wound. I will be fine in a few days."
Seeing that he was two or three years younger than Grey Worm, Daenerys turned to Missandei.
"Find the finest healers in Yunkai to treat my heroes. I will not allow lingering injuries. I expect to see them on the battlefield again."
Watching the five men struggle to contain their emotion, Drogon couldn't help but admire his mother's command of people. This talent really is inherited…
After a night of nonstop work, Daenerys finally rested near dawn. She slept for less than two hours before Irri entered the tent and gently woke her, explaining that the freed slaves of Yunkai wished to see her.
After a quick wash and dressing, Daenerys went with Missandei to the great plaza of Yunkai.
The square was already packed with men, women, elders, and children. Nearly all of them were dark-skinned and painfully thin. Around their necks was a stark white ring—the place where their slave collars had once been.
On the raised platform, Barristan, Jorah, Daario, and the others were already waiting.
When Daenerys appeared—Drogon perched on her shoulder—the crowd stirred. People surged forward instinctively, all wanting to draw closer to her.
Stepping onto the platform, Missandei moved half a step forward and announced:
"Behold the Stormborn, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains…
The Mother of Dragons—Daenerys Targaryen.
It was she who conquered Yunkai, seized the Wise Masters who enslaved you, and commanded that your collars be cut away."
Daenerys then raised her voice and said:
"You are free now. You may go wherever you wish. I will distribute the wealth of the Wise Masters as compensation for the years they stole from your lives. You are free."
Yet after she finished speaking, not a single slave left.
They simply stared at her.
Daenerys frowned slightly in confusion. Those on the platform exchanged puzzled glances as well, wondering why none of them moved.