44: Chapter 44 Temperature on Obsidian

Daenerys sat on the throne, her fingers tracing the obsidian armrest unconsciously.

Cold. Rough. There was a tiny groove on it—worn down by the tip of Drogon's tail when he was in his dragon form.

Every time he dozed off on this armrest, his tail would tap against it unconsciously.

She rubbed the groove repeatedly with her finger pad. The morning court had already dispersed, leaving only her and Missandei in the throne room.

Missandei was organizing the meeting minutes for the day, the quill scratching busily.

Jorah and Barristan had just spent half an hour arguing over the plan to incorporate the surrendered soldiers.

Grey Worm had remained expressionless throughout, only saying at the very end, "The quota for the Unsullied reserves is full," before thumping his spear and retreating.

The relatives of the Great Masters from the surrendered city knelt in a row, their foreheads pressed to the ground, not daring to let out a breath.

One old man's wig fell off, but he didn't dare pick it up, remaining kneeling the entire time with his bald head exposed.

"Your Majesty." Missandei closed her notebook. "For tonight's dinner—do you need to instruct the kitchen to prepare anything special?"

"No need. He shouldn't be coming tonight."

As Daenerys said this, her fingers were still resting on the groove.

A wave of warmth came from her chest—he was in the treasury. Satisfied. Content.

Like a cat lying on a radiator. This guy hadn't left the treasury since last night. He claimed the newly acquired gold coins needed to be counted. Counting gold coins was more important than having dinner with her.

"...Just prepare some bread and fruit. Add a portion of roast lamb. In case he comes and there's no meat, his tail will knock over the vases again."

Missandei lowered her head to write it down, a tiny trace of a smile at the corner of her mouth. She had learned not to expose this kind of "convenience" in front of the Queen.

In the treasury.

Drogon lay on his bed of gold—not a metaphor.

It was a bed truly paved with gold coins. Half a foot thick, occupying two-thirds of the treasury's area.

The solid gold statue of the Ghiscari Empire emperor had been pushed over by him, face-planted in the corner with its rear end sticking up.

The torches on the walls had all been replaced with shards of dragon glass—scraps chipped from the raw ore of Dragon Tooth Reef—emitting a soft, dark golden light.

He lay on his back on the gold bed, hands behind his head. He held a small diamond in his mouth. His tail was raised leisurely, the tip swaying slowly from side to side.

Dozens of specially selected gemstones were scattered around him. Some had been toyed with by his claws. Others had been held in his mouth, tasted, and then discarded in disdain.

Tasting gemstones was how dragons identified their quality—humans used magnifying glasses, while dragons used their tongues. Gemstones with insufficient purity had an earthy, fishy taste.

"System. Tally the new collections from last night until now."

The system popped up: "New additions from last night to today: 3,200 Ghiscari Empire gold coins. 176 pieces of raw gemstone ore. Two valyrian steel daggers. Three dragon glass artifacts. One mithril ingot. One piece of unknown metal—trace amounts of stellar energy detected, suspected to be star metal."

Drogon spat out the diamond in his mouth. He wiped the saliva away with his thumb, holding it up to the light of the dragon glass shards to inspect its fire.

"Star metal? Where did it come from?"

"It was the filling inside the scepter of the Ghiscari Empire emperor's statue. When the host pushed over the statue, the scepter broke, and it fell out."

"That old emperor stuffed a piece of star metal inside his scepter?"

Drogon sat up, gold coins sliding off his chest with a clatter.

"He used star metal as a counterweight? What a waste. Keep it safe. I'll forge a sword with it later."

His tail curled up a particularly large ruby—the one pried from the statue's eye socket, fist-sized, crudely cut but with a perfect color—and brought it before his eyes. His slit pupils scanned the surface of the gemstone.

"I'll make a necklace for her with this. The ruby in that hair accessory from last time was stained by Ice Scum's blood; it needs to be replaced."

He brought the ruby close to his nose and sniffed. A dragon's sense of smell for gemstones was different from a human's—humans could smell the coldness of a gemstone, but dragons could smell its age. This gem had been embedded in the statue's eye socket for over a thousand years, soaked in the despair of the last emperor of the Ghiscari Empire. It had a rotten, sour smell. No.

"The smell of blood is too strong. And that black scale armor of hers paired with a ruby is too tacky."

He curled up a sapphire. Pear-shaped. Perfectly cut. The size was just right for a necklace pendant. He stared at it for two seconds, then tossed it aside.

"No. White Mane already has a sapphire. If I give another blue one, it'll look like I'm wholesaling gifts. Cheapens the value."

His tail rummaged through the pile of gemstones for a while, then curled up an emerald. Teardrop-shaped. The size of a fingernail. Extremely pure quality. Inside was a tiny ice crack, refracting a faint, elusive blue-green halo in the light.

He stared at the ice crack for a long time. A scene flashed through his mind—Dragonstone. On the sea cliff. She was standing on the edge of the cliff in that green dress, the sea breeze whipping the hem of her skirt. It wasn't a green dress. She said it was blue. But in his memory, the moss on the sea cliff was green, and her dress was green too.

"...It is green."

The system popped up: "Host. You have been picking out a gift for Daenerys for forty minutes."

"Jorah and Barristan are at the morning court. They'll help her deal with those old fogies. My mission—" Drogon carefully tucked the emerald into his trench coat's inner pocket, "—is to turn this treasury into a dragon's nest capable of resisting the second sneak attack from the Abyss Demon Realm. That's the real business."

"The host has reached the realm of perfection in rationalizing your own greed."

"Shut up."

He stood up. His tail flicked twice behind him, sending a spray of gold coins flying. The coins landed on the ground with a clatter, a few rolling onto the rear end of the Ghiscari Empire emperor's statue and bouncing off. He looked down at the gold covering the floor. The dark golden light in his slit pupils was brighter than the shards of dragon glass.