Chapter 149: She Is Not Alone
Rumors had spread that Daenerys Targaryen intended to bring every slave-dependent city around Slaver's Bay under her rule. That was why Volantis had once considered allying with Ghis to overthrow her.
Glancing back at the three triarchs—still pretending ignorance—Daenerys let out a quiet sigh and stepped toward the elephant carriage.
But the moment she approached, the previously calm dwarf elephants suddenly grew restless, stamping their feet and snorting uneasily.
The triarchs panicked, hurriedly ordering the slave drivers to steady the beasts.
The drivers, confused by the sudden agitation, tugged hard on the reins while shouting commands in their native tongue. Only after several lashes of the whip did the elephants settle somewhat—though they still shifted nervously.
Nyessos, who had originally intended to proudly introduce Volantis's famed elephant carriages, lost all enthusiasm. Now, he only hoped the animals would behave long enough to carry the queen safely.
Watching the uneasy beasts, Daenerys cast a brief glance at the small black dragon on her shoulder.
She understood immediately—
They were reacting to Drogon's draconic aura.
Before his transformation, Drogon's presence had little effect on other animals. But now, any creature that came close would instinctively feel fear or agitation.
Drogon himself was well aware of the cause. This was already with him restraining his aura—otherwise, even Daenerys and her companions wouldn't be riding; they'd be forced to walk.
Only after the elephants gradually calmed did Nyessos dare invite Daenerys aboard.
Tyrion Lannister and the others took separate carriages.
Once seated, Drogon hopped down from Daenerys's shoulder and settled beside her on a plush, luxurious chair.
[This is real leather… more comfortable than a sofa.]
He shifted slightly, testing the softness with visible satisfaction.
Daenerys, long accustomed to his strange "thoughts," simply smiled faintly before turning her attention to the streets.
As a major port city, Volantis was far cleaner than most. Flowers lined both sides of the roads, and statues appeared at regular intervals.
Nyessos explained that each statue depicted a notable figure—past rulers, triarchs, or individuals who had contributed greatly to the city.
"Up ahead is the longest bridge in the world—the Long Bridge of Volantis," Nyessos continued. "It spans the Rhoyne, connecting the old and new districts."
Hearing this, Drogon lifted his head and glanced toward the wide river nearby.
It stretched nearly two kilometers across.
Building a bridge over such a span was no small feat.
Curious, he leapt into the air for a better look.
It truly was immense.
Though not as vast as modern bridges, it could still accommodate three elephant carriages traveling side by side. Its structure appeared sturdy and grand—clearly the result of enormous effort.
Nyessos, mid-explanation, suddenly noticed Drogon hovering above, staring toward the bridge.
He blinked in surprise, then looked back at Daenerys.
Could… the dragon understand him?
"Drogon can understand what we say," Daenerys said calmly, answering his unspoken question.
Nyessos was taken aback.
So his guess had been right.
No wonder the dragon had been watching him so intently earlier.
The entrance to the bridge was built of black stone, carved with images of beasts and dragons. As Nyessos spoke, his gaze unconsciously drifted toward Drogon again.
He couldn't understand it.
Drogon had four limbs—something unheard of in all of Valyrian history.
Yet that didn't change one fact—
This dragon was terrifyingly powerful.
From what they had learned, Drogon could not only change size but also withstand scorpion bolts—siege weapons specifically designed to kill dragons.
That alone explained why they had been willing to part with two entire ships of treasure.
As they moved onto the bridge, Nyessos continued, "It took forty years and over a million gold honors to complete. Without it, the new city would never have flourished as it has today."
Even Drogon was slightly surprised.
Forty years.
The one who began the project might not have lived to see it finished.
Not long after they entered the bridge, Daenerys's attention was drawn to the far side—
A massive black wall rose in the distance.
Over fifty meters high, it exuded a silent, overwhelming sense of pressure.
Perched once more on Daenerys's shoulder, Drogon felt little awe at the sight of the towering black wall.
After witnessing the two-hundred-meter-high The Wall, this structure no longer held the same impact.
"The Black Wall was built during the Valyrian era," Nyessos explained, noticing Daenerys's gaze lingering on it. "Those who live within are of ancient Valyrian blood. No common free man or foreigner may enter without invitation."
Daenerys glanced at him with a faint, knowing smile.
She understood perfectly what he meant.
The people of Volantis prided themselves as heirs of Valyria, even dreaming of uniting the Nine Free Cities.
But in front of a true descendant of Valyria—one of House Targaryen—they would never dare claim legitimacy.
Nyessos's words were nothing more than an attempt to draw closer to her.
Seeing she took no offense, he quickly continued his introduction.
Over twenty minutes later, they passed through the Black Wall.
Inside, everything changed.
The architecture, the streets—every detail reflected immense wealth and effort. The contrast was stark.
Outside the wall was one world.
Inside was another.
If the outer city resembled a slum, the inner city was unmistakably a realm of privilege.
Before long, their attention was drawn to a massive structure on the left side of the road.
The building shimmered with dozens of colors—not gaudy, but richly layered, giving it both brilliance and dignity.
Towers, halls, and spires blended seamlessly together, forming a structure that seemed almost… alive.
"This," Nyessos said with a hint of pride, "is the temple of the Lord of Light—R'hllor."
Drogon couldn't help but feel a flicker of surprise.
This temple was two or three times larger than the Great Sept of Baelor he had seen in King's Landing.
He had always assumed that although R'hllor was powerful, his following was limited—especially in Westeros.
After all, figures like Melisandre served alone at the side of Stannis Baratheon.
And even Thoros of Myr, who aided the repeatedly resurrected Beric Dondarrion, wandered as a lone priest.
But here—
In Volantis—
The scale of devotion was overwhelming.
Perhaps beyond Westeros, the influence of R'hllor was far greater than he had imagined.
As they drew closer to the temple, Drogon sensed something—
A familiar presence.
A strange, divine aura.
He had felt something like it before… in the ruins of Valyria.
Only now did he understand—
That aura belonged to R'hllor.
Led onward, Daenerys and her entourage eventually arrived at a grand inn in the heart of the old city.
Nyessos ordered the carriages to halt and personally arranged accommodations for everyone, ensuring they could rest comfortably after their long journey.