Chapter 146: The Origin of the Conch
When the fleet first saw Drogon, most soldiers believed he had gone to the Valyrian ruins—but some still doubted he could have gone deep into the Smoking Sea in such a short time.
Now, seeing him carrying two massive sea monsters—
There was no doubt left.
He hadn't just gone to the Demon Lands—
He had fought there.
---
As Drogon flew over the fleet, Daenerys had already spotted him from afar and heard the soldiers' cheers.
When he reached the lead ship, she and the others saw clearly what he was carrying—the giant octopus and the sea serpent—and quickly cleared space on deck for him.
Once placed on the deck, the sea serpent moved slightly, then looked at Drogon—now back in his smaller form—with pleading eyes.
Hoping to be spared.
Drogon hadn't planned to kill it in the first place.
He let out a series of low growls and gestures, making his meaning clear—
Submit. Obey. Follow his commands.
A sea serpent that had grown this large was no ordinary beast.
Its intelligence was definitely high enough to understand.
In fact, Drogon had already sensed its submission on the way back. This was just to make it clear—and to warn it, in case it tried anything after returning to the sea.
The serpent seemed to understand.
The moment it realized it wouldn't be killed—only required to submit—
It perked up immediately, nodding its massive head repeatedly.
Submission.
Satisfied, Drogon allowed it to slip back into the water, following alongside the lead ship.
---
Once back in the sea, the serpent came fully alive again.
Its huge body circled the ship once before staying close by.
From time to time, it leapt slightly above the surface—
As if to show it was still there.
Still loyal.
Not running.
The soldiers watching from the other ships were stunned.
They had thought the serpent was dying—
But now it moved freely through the sea, its twenty-meter body rolling beneath the waves.
One after another, they rushed below deck to call their companions to come see this rare sight.
---
On the lead ship, everyone watching Drogon tame the sea serpent was amazed.
Especially Yara.
When she first saw the giant octopus, she thought Drogon had killed the Drowned God they worshipped.
Only after a closer look did she realize it wasn't.
But what excited her more—
Was the sea serpent.
She knew how terrifying a creature like that could be in the ocean.
At the right moment, it could even change the outcome of a battle.
---
Seeing Yara's excitement, Drogon suddenly thought of the conch.
As someone who had lived her whole life on the Iron Islands, she might know something about it.
He flew to Daenerys's room, grabbed the conch, then returned to the deck and handed it to her.
Yara took it, confused at first.
After examining it for a moment, her expression changed.
"This… this is a Tidecaller Conch?"
Tidecaller Conch?
Drogon hadn't expected her to recognize it immediately.
Hearing the name, Daenerys also walked over. She wanted to know what made this conch—worth five gold coins—so special.
"It's said to be a sacred relic of the Iron Islands," Yara said, unable to put it down. "It can control the tides. But no one has ever actually seen one used—or even seen the real thing."
"Drogon… did you bring this back from Valyria?"
"It was bought on the Godsway in the Dothraki Sea," Daenerys answered for him.
She didn't doubt Yara's judgment.
Anything Drogon took interest in was never ordinary.
"Do you know how to use it?" she asked.
Yara glanced around, then nodded.
"I do."
As long as it can be used, that's enough, Drogon thought.
Daenerys also understood—this kind of knowledge was likely a secret of the Iron Islands. Yara wouldn't explain it openly here.
After holding it a while longer, Yara reluctantly handed the conch back.
Even if it was a sacred relic of her people—
It wasn't hers.
Drogon didn't take it.
He had already studied it enough.
Keeping it meant nothing.
Better to leave it with Yara—
At least it could be used when needed.
If he really asked, Yara would probably tell him how to use it—but there was no need.
She had already submitted to Daenerys and was one of her key supporters.
Better to just give it to her directly.
"Keep it for now," Daenerys said when she saw Drogon didn't take it back.
"Yes!" Yara was overjoyed. As a sacred relic of the Iron Islands, she naturally wanted to keep it.
---
The octopus had already been cut apart.
It would soon be turned into another batch of high-defense soft armor.
With things settling down, Daenerys curiously asked Drogon about the Valyrian ruins.
Everyone nearby leaned in, watching as he tried to explain with gestures.
Watching him struggle like that, they all wished Daenerys would hurry up and teach him how to write.
His gestures were hard to follow—it was frustrating to watch.
After asking several times, Daenerys finally managed to piece together what he meant.
Roughly—
The sea was boiling.
Smoke filled both the sky and the surface.
There was lightning overhead.
And massive spinning winds.
As for the part about illusions in the ruins—
No one understood.
All they saw was Drogon squinting and shaking his head.
No one realized he was trying to say that illusions could occur there.
As for another well-known feature of the Demon Lands—
There were sea monsters in the water.
---
After getting a general idea of the ruins, everyone couldn't help but sigh.
In such an environment, survival alone was difficult—let alone exploration.
Only a dragon like Drogon could go in and come out safely.
Back in the cabin, Daenerys prepared ink and parchment and resumed teaching Drogon to write.
After watching him struggle earlier, she decided to speed up his learning.
Drogon, still a bit tired from the trip, didn't resist.
Instead, he was already thinking—
Another good nap.
---
In the slums of King's Landing, Cersei Lannister stepped down from her litter.
Covering her nose and mouth, she carefully avoided the dirty puddles on the ground, lifting her dress as she followed the Gold Cloaks toward an open space at the end of the alley.
On both sides of the narrow street, ragged, emaciated men, women, and children either sat or lay on the ground.
Seeing the well-dressed noblewoman escorted by guards, they shrank further into the corners, afraid of getting in her way.
In the center of the open space stood a man in his fifties, with graying hair and a steady expression.
He wore a worn wool robe stained with dirt.
At that moment, he was ladling yellow porridge from a large pot with a strange smell, handing it out to the poor.