"He said he could cure your illness?" Davos knew how difficult it was to treat Greyscale; Stannis had searched half the continent and enlisted numerous maesters just to keep the condition under control, yet traces of the disease still remained on her face. He couldn't imagine who else possessed such great power to cure Greyscale.
"Did he say when he would treat you?" Davos continued to ask.
"He said it can't be cured yet and told me to wait a little longer."
Shireen was unwilling to say who the messenger was. Davos didn't know if the other party was deceiving him and Shireen. The letter stated that Shireen's uncle would be burned to death and that he himself would soon be out of the Dungeon. These claims would be verified in the near future; he would soon know if the other party truly wanted to save Shireen or had other designs.
Davos planned to wait until the messenger contacted him again before considering whether to send Shireen away... Leaving Dragonstone, Drogon headed straight for the grasslands. Coming to Westeros, he could only eat small amounts as a juvenile and had never been full; now, he barely had the strength left to fly.
Gritting his teeth, he crossed the Narrow Sea and passed through the Free Trade City-States, finally seeing the beautiful Dothraki Sea.
Deep into the grasslands, he ignored a small Khalasar that wasn't even enough to fill the gaps between his teeth and chose a large Khalasar of tens of thousands. Drogon found that his arrival did not cause much panic, and driving away the Dothraki near the food was more difficult than usual.
It seemed they already knew he was a good dragon who only sought food and did not kill people, Drogon thought to himself.
After driving the others away, he ate while observing the surrounding crowd. There was indeed no fear in their eyes; most of them watched him eating and drinking as if looking at a curiosity, occasionally pointing and whispering.
Since Drogon had visited the grasslands several times, the stories of him snatching meat had spread throughout the Dothraki Sea. They knew he not only snatched meat but also drank Mares Milk Wine and ate Dothraki Blood Pies.
However, he would leave coins behind every time he finished eating. According to the Khal, those coins could be exchanged outside the grasslands for several times the amount of meat the dragon ate.
Now, not only were they not afraid of Drogon coming to eat meat, but they also looked forward to his arrival, hoping to witness the miracle of a True Dragon while making a huge profit.
Having eaten and drunk his fill in this ten-thousand-man Khalasar, Drogon left two gold coins as usual. Scanning the crowd, he saw several women actually kneeling toward him, muttering something under their breath.
Drogon hadn't expected to receive such high treatment just for giving a few gold coins. Just as he was about to flap his wings and fly away, he suddenly felt several creamy-yellow light spots converging in his mind.
Sensing the yellow spots and looking at the kneeling women, a term came to Drogon's mind: Faith Power.
Light spots had gathered during his last trip to the grasslands, but he hadn't figured out what was happening; now, he finally knew.
He had once studied the white spots absorbed from The Immortal and the converging creamy-yellow light spots, finding that the yellow spots could nourish the white spot and make it grow. However, the growth was so minuscule that it would go unnoticed without careful sensing.
Seeing the anomaly after the Dothraki women's worship today let him know the way to collect yellow spots, and he also vaguely understood what exactly he had absorbed from The Immortal.
After some thought, Drogon named it Divine Light. With that white light spot, he could absorb the yellow light spots, which were Faith Power.
Faith Power nourished the Divine Light, which in turn fed back into his physical body.
Having figured out the connection, Drogon found another way to strengthen himself besides eating.
It seemed he should give them a bit more gold in the future, Drogon thought as he looked at the kneeling women.
Nodding to the women kneeling before him, Drogon gave a powerful flap of his wings and soared into the high sky, letting out a deafening dragon roar from his throat: "Ang!!!"
He then breathed out a blast of fierce Dragonfire toward the vast sky.
Flexing his muscles at the right time was probably necessary; for the sake of collecting Faith Power, Drogon didn't mind putting on a fire-breathing performance.
Seeing Drogon show his power, the Dothraki on the ground didn't know where they had offended him. They didn't dare run, fearing that Drogon specifically caught those who fled.
The smarter ones recalled Drogon nodding to the kneeling women just now and followed suit by kneeling. Seeing others kneel, the rest followed regardless of whether they understood, as long as they didn't anger the dragon.
In a short while, a large, dark mass of people was kneeling. Those standing immediately stood out like cranes among chickens and hurried to kneel down. Finally, even the Khal of this large Khalasar knelt on the ground.
After his roar, Drogon felt intermittent yellow spots surging in again. As the number of kneeling people increased, the Faith Power grew more and more.
Drogon hadn't expected that simply flexing his muscles would have such a great effect. He circled the Khalasar in the sky, nodded toward the Khal's direction, and then flapped his wings to fly away.
Seeing that their kneeling had gained Drogon's approval, the Dothraki and the Khal became even more devout in their hearts, allowing Drogon to harvest a large amount of Faith Power.
Two hours later, feeling waves of creamy-yellow light spots, Drogon returned to Astapor contentedly.
Observing the positions of the two dragons from the sky, he located Dragon Mother's new residence. Finding a hidden spot to drop his backpack, he took off again and charged toward the golden dragon, Viserion, beginning their daily dragon training.
Viserion, who was flying happily with Rhaegal, suddenly felt something was wrong. Turning his head, a small black dot was crashing toward him at high speed. He only had time to swerve slightly before his wing was struck, the pain nearly causing him to plunge downward.
This collision was the result of Drogon holding back his strength; otherwise, with his current sprinting speed, hitting Viserion would have punched a hole right through him, and Drogon himself wouldn't have been able to withstand the impact.
Drogon had originally intended to hit Viserion's flank but didn't expect him to dodge, only grazing the wing. However, Drogon was even happier; his training of the two hadn't been in vain if they could detect him at such high speed and make an evasive maneuver.
Having been frequently ambushed and dragged into fights by Drogon, the two dragons had long since grown accustomed to it. Every time they soared in the sky, they would keep an eye on their surroundings, especially today when they hadn't seen Drogon; they were even more uneasy and looked for him from time to time.
Inside Daenerys's room, after finishing discussions with Jorah and the others this morning regarding the future governance of Astapor, she had nothing much to do. She had planned to head to Yunkai, the next city in Slavers Bay, this afternoon, but since Drogon was nowhere to be found, the group had not set out.
Daenerys wasn't in a great hurry to go to Yunkai, but not seeing Drogon for so long made her somewhat restless.
Drogon had never been out for this long. If it weren't for Jeyne's flint bag being taken, she would have already sent people to find him.
"Khal Drogo, Drogon is back!" Daenerys was just about to go for a walk when the maid Jeyne suddenly ran in to report to her.
Jeyne knew Daenerys had been worrying about Drogon. Having seen the three dragons fighting in the sky upon returning from buying things outside, she rushed over to report.
"Where is he?" Hearing news of Drogon, Daenerys's spirits lifted.
"Right in the sky." After Jeyne spoke, Daenerys quickly walked out of the room. Looking up at the sky, she saw the three dragons locked in a fierce battle.