25: Chapter 25 The Treasury

The underground vault of Yunkai.

It was three levels deep.

The iron doors were thicker than the city gates.

Carved on the doors was the harpy of the Ghiscari Empire.

Its eyes were inlaid with rubies.

When Drogon saw them, his vertical pupils flared for a moment.

The Unsullied had to strike it three times with a battering ram before it burst open.

As the iron doors fell, there was a deafening boom, and dust exploded from the doorframe.

Drogon stood at the entrance.

Before the dust had even settled, he began to walk inside.

His golden vertical pupils were reflected into gold by the radiance before him.

Gold coins. Chest after chest of gold coins. Gold bars. Gold bricks. Gold plates.

Raw gemstones—emeralds, rubies, and sapphires piled into small hills; the uncut stones shone brighter than the cut ones.

Dragon glass. valyrian steel daggers. Gold coins of the Ghiscari Empire. Their collector's value was ten times their face value.

There was also a chest containing something unknown, sealed in a lead box, with seals inscribed in Valyrian on the surface.

Drogon didn't open it. He left it for now.

He took a deep breath. He inhaled air mixed entirely with gold dust and gemstone powder. He choked for a second. Then he kept inhaling. It felt great.

Then, he threw himself into it.

Rolling around in the pile of gold coins. The coins clattered like a waterfall.

His tail whipped back and forth in excitement, sending coins flying to clatter onto the floor.

He grabbed a handful of gemstones and tossed them into the air, tilting his head back to watch them fall and strike his face—a ruby bounced off his forehead, and he caught it in his mouth.

It didn't hurt. It felt good. He grabbed another handful of gold bars and rubbed them against his face. They were cool, yet felt scorching to the touch. That heavy, distinct metallic weight.

"Calculate!"

The system began to count: "Rough estimate: approximately fifteen tons of gold. About two hundred kilograms of various raw gemstones. Approximately fifty thousand Ghiscari Empire gold coins. valyrian steel daggers × 4. Suspected dragon glass artifacts × 6. Lead-sealed box × 1 (contents unknown, high concentration of magical fluctuations detected). Total value—immeasurable."

"Confiscate the gold. It'll serve as military funding for Mother. The gemstones and dragon glass—they're mine."

He dug a ruby necklace out of the pile of coins. The size of the gemstone was perfect for embedding into the crooked hair ornament he had given Daenerys Targaryen last time.

The ruby was pigeon-blood red. It was raw, uncut. But its natural shape was like a heart. Not a perfectly symmetrical heart—the left side was slightly larger than the right. It looked like a real heart.

He played with it in his hand for a while. His thumb stroked the surface of the gem. There were subtle pockmarks on it. Natural. Not artificially polished.

His tail quieted down, swaying slowly behind him. The rhythm was slower than before.

"The hair ornament from last time was worn crookedly. If I swap this one in—it should look a bit better."

He tucked the necklace into the inner pocket of his trench coat. He then picked out the two best valyrian steel daggers. The scabbards were inlaid with rubies. The blades shimmered with the unique dark patterns of valyrian steel—wave patterns. Alternating deep and light grays, like solidified smoke. They matched the color of White Mane's scimitar well.

"Her blade chipped today. Consider this compensation from me."

Two daggers remained. One small one—for Missandei to defend herself. One—for himself.

He packed everything up. He patted the gold dust off his body. The gold dust couldn't stick to his trench coat—the dragon-fire trench coat repelled all foreign substances. The gold dust fell away with a rustle, accumulating into a small pile on the floor.

"Alright. Job done."

The bathroom of the Yunkai palace. Roman-style. Large enough to swim in. The bath was carved from a single block of white marble, with the edges carved with scenes of warfare from the Ghiscari Empire—chariots crushing the corpses of enemies. It was very bloody. Very out of place.

The pool water was diverted from a hot spring. Steam billowed over the water's surface. In the steam was the scent of lavender essential oil. Daenerys Targaryen had brought it. She had to have lavender wherever she went.

Daenerys Targaryen was soaking in the pool. Her long, silver-gold hair floated on the water. The water reached her collarbone. She had her eyes closed. Her brows were furrowed. There were water droplets on her eyelashes. It was unclear if they were from the steam or something else.

The door was pushed open. The sound of the door hinges turning echoed in the empty bathroom.

The footsteps were light. But they were accompanied by the friction of a tail dragging on the floor. The sound of scales scraping against the white marble. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Daenerys Targaryen didn't open her eyes.

"Get out, Drogon. This is the women's bath."

Drogon leaned against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest. His tail swayed behind him. He was still wearing the trench coat stained with White Mane's blood—the blood had dried, forming dark red, hard clumps. His hair was a mess. A tired but smug smile hung on the corner of his lips.

"What does it matter? Back when I used to perch on your shoulder—you never avoided me. I even saw you change clothes in the tent. You're talking about avoidance now?"

He pulled the ruby necklace out of his pocket. He dangled it from his fingertips. The ruby reflected in the steam, casting a small red speck of light onto the water's surface.

"Besides—I brought you something. The gemstone on that hair ornament of yours was too small. I swapped it for a bigger one. Pigeon-blood red. Raw. Uncut. Natural."