Chapter 95: The Opening of the Academy
The newly sprouting spikes on Drogon's body were something Daenerys had never seen on Rhaegal or Viserion. She could only assume that Drogon was growing too quickly—developing faster than the other two dragons.
Fortunately, Drogon was able to soften those bony spikes at will. Otherwise, even touching him would require extreme caution.
"—Sss."
Drogon's leg twitched, and he let out a soft hiss.
"Drogon, did I hurt you?"
Only then did Daenerys realize that, lost in admiration of his exquisitely formed body, she had accidentally touched his wound.
She had indeed brushed against the deepest part of the injury, causing Drogon to reflexively flinch.
After Daenerys finished cleaning the wound, the healer took out a box of pitch-black ointment and prepared to apply it to Drogon's leg.
At the sight of the dark salve, Daenerys suddenly remembered Mirri Maz Duur, the maegi who had treated Khal Drogo—she, too, had used a similar black paste.
Daenerys raised her hand, stopping the healer, and studied his face closely, searching for any sign of something amiss.
The healer, confused by her reaction, didn't understand why he had been halted.
Drogon, for his part, wanted nothing to do with that black ointment. No matter how effective it might be, once applied it would likely fuse with the flesh as it healed. He had no desire to carry a lump of hardened medicine inside his body.
The wound looked frightening, but with his physique, it would heal quickly on its own. There was no need for ointment at all.
Seeing Daenerys stop the healer, Drogon seized the opportunity, slipped free of her hands, and took to the air.
Daenerys, having found nothing suspicious in the healer's expression, was about to allow him to continue when she realized Drogon had already flown up.
"Drogon… will you be alright without medicine?" she asked softly, guessing he didn't want the salve.
Drogon nodded in midair.
Seeing that, Daenerys didn't insist. She knew she couldn't force him anyway. All she could do was keep a close eye on his injury—if it failed to heal properly, there would still be time to apply medicine later.
With no patient to treat, the healer packed away his ointment, having essentially made the trip for nothing.
Once the healer left, Drogon flew back to Daenerys's shoulder. Missandei immediately leaned in and said, "Your Grace, the opening ceremony is about to begin."
She had wanted to remind Daenerys earlier, but seeing how focused she was on tending Drogon's wound, she hadn't dared interrupt.
Daenerys knew she had delayed the ceremony, but compared to the opening of the academy, Drogon's injury mattered far more to her. Only now, after confirming that his wound wasn't serious, could she finally set her heart at ease.
As for the mysterious "he" Drogon had mentioned in his thoughts—
She would find a way to learn more about that later, piece by piece.
Outside the pyramid, the crowd gathered in the square began to stir when the appointed time for the opening ceremony arrived and Daenerys still had not appeared.
Though there was some restlessness, the Unsullied maintained order, and no pushing or chaos broke out.
Just as people began to wonder why the ceremony was delayed, Daenerys emerged from the pyramid together with Tyrion and the others, taking their seats behind the long table set atop the raised platform.
When the crowd saw Tyrion and Shireen appear alongside Daenerys, many were puzzled as to why they had taken the stage with her.
Accustomed to such curious looks, Tyrion and Shireen paid the crowd no mind and calmly took the seats arranged for them.
Besides the two of them, Huntley—the painter who had once created portraits for Daenerys—was also seated at the long table.
The art discipline, originally planned for a later date, had been brought forward due to the academy's immediate need for illustration and manuscript work.
Once everyone was seated, Missandei and Daenerys stood together.
Missandei spoke first:
"Before you stands the Stormborn… Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Daenerys Targaryen."
When Missandei finished, Daenerys continued:
"People of Meereen, and friends who have come from afar—today, I formally announce the founding of the Academy."
"Regardless of gender or age—whether commoner, noble, merchant, or Great Master—any talented individual from any of the four continents who meets the Academy's standards may teach or study here. No oaths are required."
As soon as she finished speaking, a wave of murmurs swept through the square.
Until now, the Academy's admission rules had been little more than rumor.
Especially beyond Slaver's Bay, many had refused to believe such claims.
In this world, knowledge was monopolized by great powers and noble houses. Even wealthy merchants often lacked proper access to education—let alone the poor.
No one believed that someone would cultivate talent for strangers, asking only a modest fee in return.
Many had come today precisely to hear what Queen Daenerys herself would say.
Now that she had spoken, they felt both elated and stunned.
She truly intended to offer knowledge at a low cost to anyone admitted into the Academy.
After Daenerys sat down, the murmuring below continued for several minutes without subsiding.
Missandei did not wait longer. She rose, scanned the crowd, and only spoke once the noise had quieted:
"At present, the Academy offers courses in governance, history, languages, medicine, and painting. Additional disciplines will be added based on enrollment and demand."
"Now, allow me to introduce the Academy's principal members."
"The Academy's High Chancellor will be Her Majesty herself."
"The Director of Governance is Tyrion Lannister, former Hand of the King in King's Landing."
As Missandei finished, Tyrion stood and inclined his head slightly toward the crowd.
Only then did many realize that the dwarf on the platform had once governed the capital of the Seven Kingdoms—the largest city in the known world.
Instantly, any trace of condescension vanished.
"The Director of History is Shireen Baratheon—niece of the late King Robert and daughter of Lord Stannis Baratheon."
Another wave of discussion rippled through the crowd.
No wonder such a young girl sat upon the platform—she was of House Baratheon.
Shireen rose calmly, her expression steady, and nodded politely to the people.
"The Director of Painting is Master Huntley Vico, a renowned artist."
Huntley stood with practiced grace and offered a small bow.
"The Director of Languages is myself," Missandei said simply. "My name is Missandei."
Those with sharp eyes immediately grasped the significance.
Queen Daenerys had appointed a former slave as a department head—once again overturning everything they thought they knew.
"If you wish to join the Academy or register a talent," Missandei concluded, "you may do so now."
With the formal ceremony complete, on-site registration began.
The Unsullied removed the long table and replaced it with several smaller desks.