As dawn broke, rumors in the main camp spread like the morning mist over the Mother River.
"Khal's wound is getting worse; I heard he was in so much pain last night he couldn't sleep a wink—all because of that foreign kid!"
"And Khaleesi, she actually listened to an outsider, didn't use Mormont's witch doctor's herbs, and now Khal is almost gone!"
Several tribesmen wrapped in animal skins squatted by the campfire, their voices very low, yet they still drifted into Mr. Illyrion's ears. He had just come out of Drogo's main tent, still clutching a cloth strip stained with herbal juice—although Drogo's wound had been covered with anti-inflammatory herbs all night, the redness and swelling had not receded at all, and his body temperature was higher than usual, clearly indicating a fever had begun.
"Don't spread rumors!" Kohol's voice suddenly rang out. He held a scimitar in his hand and stood behind the tribesmen with a somber expression. "Khal's affairs are not for you to discuss! Mr. Illyrion is someone Khaleesi trusts, and everything he does is for Khal!"
The tribesmen were so scared they immediately shut up and quickly left. Kohol walked over to Mr. Illyrion and lowered his voice: "The people I sent on patrol last night reported that in a tent on the west side of the main camp, there's a strange Dothraki man holding a lion sigil ring, just like the previous assassin's. He might be an accomplice of the Lannister."
Mr. Illyrion's heart tightened—sure enough, there were still some who slipped through the net! "Where is he now? Did you get anything out of him?"
"He's being held by my men, very stubborn, refusing to say anything." Kohol frowned. "Also, Mormont has been inciting the tribe all morning, saying that you and Khaleesi 'offended the spirits of the grassland,' which caused Khal's severe illness. Many elderly tribesmen have already started to believe her."
Mr. Illyrion looked back towards the main tent. The tent flap was tightly closed; Daenerys should still be taking care of Drogo. He knew that he had to solve two problems first: one was the Lannister accomplice, and the other was Mormont's incitement, otherwise the main camp would fall into chaos from within.
"First, take me to see that strange Dothraki man." Mr. Illyrion clenched his fists. "As for Mormont, once we have evidence, we'll expose her plot publicly."
The two walked through the dense tents and arrived in front of a dilapidated tent on the west side of the main camp. Two Blood Riders guarded the entrance. Seeing them approach, they immediately lifted the tent flap. Inside the tent, a dark-skinned Dothraki man was tied to a wooden stake, with a long knife scar on his face, glaring fiercely at the people who entered.
"Speak, who sent you? What benefits did Lannister give you to infiltrate the Khalasar?" Mr. Illyrion squatted in front of him, holding the lion sigil ring that had been found on the assassin. "You recognize this ring, don't you?"
The scarred man's eyes flickered, but he still stubbornly said: "I don't know any Lannister. I'm just a herdsman who came to join Khal Drogo!"
"Join?" Kohol kicked him in the knee. The scarred man grimaced in pain. "A herdsman joining would carry a Lannister ring? And hide in a tent secretly observing the main tent's movements?"
Mr. Illyrion looked at the scarred man's reaction and suddenly remembered Mormont's earlier words about "soaking herbs in the holy water of the Mother River"—Dothraki herdsmen never trusted Lannister, unless someone was pulling strings. His heart stirred, and he deliberately raised his voice: "Do you know Mormont? Did she make you infiltrate the Khalasar, waiting for a chance to harm Khal and Khaleesi?"
The scarred man's body stiffened abruptly. Although he quickly regained his composure, this subtle movement did not escape Mr. Illyrion's eyes. "It seems I guessed right." Mr. Illyrion stood up and said to Kohol, "Keep a close eye on him, don't let him commit suicide. We're going to find Mormont now."
As soon as the two walked out of the tent, they saw a slave running over in a hurry, his face pale: "Mr. Illyrion! Lord Kohol! This is bad! Mormont has brought a group of old tribesmen and is blocking the entrance of the main tent, saying that Khaleesi must hand you over, otherwise they will 'ask the grassland spirits to punish' us!"
Mr. Illyrion's heart sank. Mormont had indeed begun to act. He and Kohol quickly ran towards the main tent. From a distance, they saw dozens of people gathered at the entrance of the main tent. Mormont stood at the forefront, holding a totem made of animal bones, shouting loudly: "Khaleesi! You let an outsider interfere with the Khalasar's affairs, offending the grassland spirits! Now Khal is gravely ill, it's all his fault! Hand him over, let the spirits appease their anger, and Khal will recover!"
The old tribesmen echoed her, their voices growing louder. The main tent's flap was lifted, and Daenerys emerged, supporting a pale Drogo—although Drogo was still feverish, he insisted on coming out to manage the situation when he heard the commotion outside.
"Mormont!" Drogo's voice was hoarse but powerful. "I am not dead yet. The Khalasar's affairs are not for you to decide!"
Mormont hadn't expected Drogo to come out and was stunned for a moment, then became defiant again: "Khal! You have been deceived by this outsider! He doesn't understand the rules of the grassland, he has offended the spirits! If you continue to protect him, the Khalasar will suffer!"
"You're talking nonsense!" Daenerys stepped forward, blocking Mr. Illyrion, her eyes as firm as the bedrock of the Mother River. "Mr. Illyrion is trying to save Drogo. It was your herbs that were problematic, which made Drogo's wound worsen! You say he offended the spirits, what evidence do you have?"
This was the first time Daenerys had been so assertive in front of the tribesmen. The old tribesmen immediately fell silent, all looking at Mormont. Mormont's face was a bit ugly, but she still argued: "My herbs were soaked in holy water, how could they be problematic? He must have switched my herbs and deliberately harmed Khal!"
"Whether it was deliberate or not, we'll know if we investigate." Mr. Illyrion stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding tribesmen. "Mormont says her herbs were soaked in the holy water of the Mother River, so there should be a container for holy water in her tent. We'll search her tent now. If we can find holy water with the same ingredients as her herbs, I'll plead guilty; if we can't find it, or if there's something else in her herbs, then she's lying!"
The tribesmen nodded one after another. Even some of the old tribesmen who had previously sided with Mormont felt this method was fair. Mormont's eyes became flustered, and she instinctively took a step back: "I... I don't have holy water in my tent, the holy water is used up!"
"Used up?" Kohol sneered. "Yesterday you said the herbs were soaked in holy water, and today it's used up? I think you're just afraid to let us search!"
Before Mormont could retort, Kohol had already waved for two Blood Riders to go to Mormont's tent. Mormont tried to stop them, but was restrained by Drogo's gaze—although Drogo was gravely ill, the Khal's authority remained, and no tribesman dared to defy his orders.
Not long after, the Blood Riders emerged from Mormont's tent, holding a black pottery jar and a rolled-up parchment. "Lord Kohol! The jar contains a black liquid, with the same ingredients as the herbs Mormont applied to Khal, and there's a strange smell inside; on this paper, there's a lion sigil, and some words written in the Common Tongue!"
Mr. Illyrion took the parchment and unfolded it—on it was written in the Common Tongue: "After the deed is done, you will receive one hundred gold coins. Kill Drogo and Daenerys, support other leaders, and prevent the Dothraki Riders from moving south." Although there was no name at the bottom, the lion sigil explained everything—it was a Lannister order!
"Mormont! What else do you have to say?" Mr. Illyrion handed the parchment to Drogo, his voice filled with murderous intent. "You were not for the spirits at all; you took Lannister's money and deliberately harmed Khal and Khaleesi!"
Mormont's face turned pale, her legs gave way, and she knelt on the ground: "I... I was forced! Lannister's men captured my grandson and said if I didn't comply, they would kill him..."
The tribesmen were in an uproar. The old tribesmen who had previously believed Mormont now all showed expressions of anger. Drogo looked at Mormont kneeling on the ground, his eyes icy: "According to the rules of the grassland, those who betray the Khal have only one path: death. Kohol, take her away and deal with her according to the rules."
Kohol nodded, signaling the Blood Riders to drag Mormont away. Mormont's cries gradually faded, and the air in the main camp finally returned to peace.
Drogo's body swayed, and Daenerys quickly supported him: "Drogo, don't stand, go back to the tent and rest."
Drogo nodded, and with Daenerys's help, walked back to the main tent. Mr. Illyrion watched their retreating figures, a sigh of relief in his heart—Mormont's plot had finally been exposed, and the Lannister accomplice was under control. The internal crisis was temporarily resolved. But he knew that Drogo's condition had not improved, and Viserys had not yet been dealt with; the troubles were not over.
Indeed, that afternoon, a slave ran over in a hurry to report: "Mr. Illyrion! This is bad! Prince Viserys secretly sneaked into the tent where the scarred man is being held, it seems he wants to talk to him!"
Mr. Illyrion quickly ran towards the west tent. From a distance, he heard Viserys's voice: "As long as you can help me contact Lannister and have them send troops, I will let you go! When I reclaim the iron throne, I will grant you a title!"
The scarred man was tied to a wooden stake, a mocking smile on his face: "Are you that useless Targaryen prince? Lord Lannister wants Drogo and Daenerys dead; you are useless to them!"
"I am useful! I am the rightful King!" Viserys excitedly grabbed the scarred man's collar. "As long as I cooperate with them, they will definitely help me! Quickly help me contact them, or I'll kill you!"
Just then, Mr. Illyrion rushed into the tent and pulled Viserys away: "Viserys! Are you mad? Lannister is our enemy; cooperating with them is betraying Targaryen!"
"I haven't betrayed anyone!" Viserys pushed Mr. Illyrion away, his eyes bloodshot. "As long as I can reclaim the iron throne, I'm willing to do anything! Drogo refuses to send troops, and you're stopping me, so I can only find Lannister!"
As he spoke, he suddenly drew the dagger from his waist (snatched from a slave) and lunged at Mr. Illyrion. Mr. Illyrion was prepared, sidestepping and grabbing his wrist, disarming him. "Tie him up and lock him in the small tent next to the main tent. He's not allowed out without my order!" Mr. Illyrion told the Blood Riders who had followed him in.
As Viserys was dragged away by the Blood Riders, he was still screaming wildly: "I am the King! You can't do this to me! Mr. Illyrion, you wait, I will definitely kill you!"
Mr. Illyrion watched his retreating figure, a heavy feeling in his heart—Viserys's madness had reached an incurable point; keeping him was always a hidden danger. But he didn't have time to think about these things now; Drogo's condition still needed his attention.
When he returned to the main tent, Daenerys was wiping Drogo's sweaty forehead with a wet towel. Drogo's fever had subsided a bit, but he was still very weak. Seeing Mr. Illyrion enter, he said weakly: "Viserys... how is he?"
"I've locked him up; he won't cause any more trouble for now." Mr. Illyrion walked to the bedside and touched Drogo's forehead. "The fever has gone down a bit, which is a good sign. We'll continue to apply anti-inflammatory herbs to the wound, and have a slave brew some fever-reducing herbal soup. With careful recuperation, he should recover."
Drogo nodded, closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep. Daenerys looked at his sleeping face and whispered: "Mr. Illyrion, thank you. If it weren't for you, I really don't know what I would do—Mormont's plot, Viserys's madness, Drogo's illness..."
"We are family; helping each other is what we should do." Mr. Illyrion interrupted her. "Now that Mormont's problem is solved and Lannister's accomplice is under control, as long as Drogo recovers, we can continue to plan the expedition."
Daenerys nodded, hope rekindled in her eyes. She walked to the tent entrance, looking at the gradually darkening sky outside. The shimmering light of the Mother River sparkled in the night, like countless stars falling on the water. She knew that although there were still many difficulties, as long as she was with Mr. Illyrion and Drogo, there was no obstacle they couldn't overcome.
Mr. Illyrion stood beside her, watching the distant campfires gradually light up, but his mind was on another matter—although Mormont had been dealt with, Lannister would surely have other moves; although Drogo's wound was temporarily stable, whether there would be complications later was hard to say; and Viserys, his madness had reached its peak, and a thorough solution had to be found.
Just then, an elderly tribesman rushed over, holding an egg-sized stone whose surface glowed faintly red. "Khaleesi! Mr. Illyrion! This was found on the banks of the Mother River. The stone is hot, as if there's fire inside!"
Mr. Illyrion took the stone. It was warm to the touch, and the red glow on its surface was particularly noticeable in the night. His heart stirred—could this be the companion ore of a dragon egg? In the original story, Daenerys's dragon eggs needed high temperatures to hatch. This hot stone might come in handy.
"Keep it safe, put it in the corner of the main tent." Mr. Illyrion handed the stone to Daenerys. "It might be useful later."
Daenerys took the stone and carefully placed it in the corner of the tent. As night deepened, the main camp's clamor gradually subsided, with only the sound of patrolling hooves echoing across the grassland. Mr. Illyrion knew that although they had temporarily weathered the crisis, new challenges awaited them—Drogo's recovery, Viserys's disposition, Lannister's subsequent plots, and the impending "fire and rebirth" belonging to Targaryen.