Daenerys understood that as their leader, she must project confidence and strength, showing no fear or weakness.
Just as a surgeon can never reveal doubt or worry to a patient before entering the operating room.
"Are the horses unwilling to drink from the water pit?" Daenerys asked again.
"Yes, they won't even approach it," Avanti replied, his face pale with fear. "It's cursed water, water that livestock cannot drink. Everyone knows it's cursed by demons."
"Everyone knows," a voice came from behind Daenerys. It was Aggo.
Daenerys's Bloodrider, Cloudscatterer and Rainstopper, emerged from the tent, bare-chested and wearing only silk trousers.
Though the Horse People were primitive, their survival instincts were still commendable.
"I'll tell you a little trick to solve this problem."
Soon, Daenerys was busy. She had her large red bronze basin carried out of the tent.
It was a bathtub even larger than a modern family bathtub, used by the two-meter-tall Drogo for bathing—a massive, hundred-pound object.
Then, they dug a trench beside the water pit and placed the bronze basin inside—the tub was too high to be convenient for pouring water into.
Next, a sheepskin blanket was spread over the surface of the bathtub, with a bowl-sized hole in the center. The sheepskin prevented the hot water in the tub from evaporating.
The next step was to erect a two-meter-high triangular frame above the bathtub. This frame was divided into four layers, each with a cotton bag hanging from it.
From top to bottom, the first bag was filled with a thick layer of coarse sand, the second with fine sand, the third with half a bag of cotton wadding, and the fourth with a full bag of charcoal.
Finally, because the weather was so hot, Daenerys had a tent erected above the wooden frame.
"Now, fetch water from that stagnant pool and pour it into the wide-mouthed bag at the top. Do it slowly and carefully, without spilling."
Soon, water began to seep through the layers, dripping and clattering. At first, it dripped slowly, but as the contents of the bags became saturated, a thin, silver stream of clear water flowed from the bottom of the last bag into the bathtub.
Aggo, crawling at the base of the frame, exclaimed in astonishment, "The water is so clean—cleaner than what we got from the Sheepman River!"
"This..." Even the knowledgeable Ser Jorah was speechless. He had never seen such a simple yet ingenious method of water purification.
Could the Princess truly be an unparalleled genius?
He knew that her brilliant idea had been sparked by a single remark from a maid.
The Red Waste wasn't a vast desert; it contained numerous shallow pools and muddy pits. What it lacked were clean water sources.
If this filtration technique could truly remove the "demon's curse," they might be able to lead most of the Khals across the waste.
Thinking of this, Jorah grew even more excited. "Princess, we should melt down the bathtub and forge it into large water cauldrons.
The waste is scattered with shallow pools and muddy areas, but no single pool is large enough to fill such a cauldron. The pools are too far apart to collect them one by one—it would be a waste—and collecting them individually would be too time-consuming and labor-intensive.
Instead, let's select dozens of elite cavalrymen, forming groups of three. Each group will have two horses, one cauldron, and several empty water skins. They can spread out as scouts, exploring the terrain while gathering water from the waste."
Daenerys studied the burly, bald man before her in surprise, realizing for the first time that he possessed such a sharp mind.
"Agreed," she nodded, approving his plan.
"Khaleesi, the water has stopped flowing! What's happening?" Rakharo cried out in panic, having been pouring water into the upper cloth bag.
Daenerys stepped forward, leaning close to the wooden rack and pulling back a corner of the cloth bag.
"Ugh, it stinks!" She recoiled three steps in surprise, the foul odor overwhelming her.
The once bright red gravel was now coated in a messy, sludgy layer, its filtering system completely paralyzed.
"We have to replace the sand, charcoal, and cotton wadding regularly. If we run out of cotton, we can use weeds instead."
Remembering the tough demon grass that even the sturdiest horses couldn't chew, Daenerys added, "First, knead the grass into a ball and pound it into fibers. Or, stuff it into the horses' mouths and let them chew it for a while before removing it."
"Can we actually get it back out, Avanti?" she asked the old man.
"Yes, the horses won't swallow it if it's not chewed to bits. But..." Avanti hesitated, his face twisting into a grimace. "The mares are docile, but some stallions are wild. They'd even dare to bite a lion."
"You'll have to handle that yourselves."
Even after filtering through the charcoal, Daenerys insisted on boiling the water before distributing it. This time, considering how sweat depletes body minerals, she added salt and dried figs.
The water had a faint sweetness, a hint of saltiness, and was refreshingly cool. Doreah absolutely loved it.
On the second evening, Daenerys's Khals only traveled eighty kilometers before stopping around midnight.
Besides encountering a large sewage pond, Daenerys wanted to conserve her horses' strength.
Each member of her group had at least one horse, and they traveled at a steady pace of ten kilometers per hour. This level of exertion was not too taxing for either the horses or the people.
The key was supplies. Even the strongest horses couldn't endure such demanding marches without food and water.
This time, Daenerys also adjusted the camp's setup.
While filtering water late into the night, she ordered a group of strong warriors to build a low, curved wall from rocks and mud. The wall was flimsy, but by sunrise, it blocked seventy percent of the direct sunlight.
When they departed on the third day, Daenerys again modified the Dothraki's hairstyles.
The Dothraki only cut off their braids in defeat. The longer the braid, the greater the respect one commanded. Even Avanti, the old horse keeper, braided his sparse, thinning hair.
Though they had no saying like "The hair and skin are gifts from our parents," the Horse People never cut their hair.
The weather was sweltering, and without showers, the risk of infection and illness was high. The greasy feeling in their hair was unbearable. Even though the Dothraki themselves were used to it, Daenerys couldn't stand the stench.
If not for her heat-resistant constitution, she herself would have cut off her silvery-gold hair.
So she suggested Aggo shave his head. As for the bald Jorah, there was no need for a haircut—he had so few hairs left to manage.
"If I cut off my braid, everyone will look down on me," Aggo said, shaking his head vigorously.
"Then I'll make everyone shave their heads," Daenerys replied.
"Everyone knows how important braids are to the Dothraki. After we leave the Red Waste, how will others see us? As cowardly failures? As slaves from Slaver's Bay?" Jhogo also firmly objected.
"I've heard that Horse People slaves would rather be killed by their masters than have their hair shaved—unless they're Dothraki slaves raised from infancy. The long braid and the bells on it are a more distinctive Dothraki symbol than the Bialak scimitar," Jorah interjected.
Daenerys hesitated for a moment, then gritted her teeth and said, "Then we'll leave only the hair around the braid!"
It was a bit ugly, but undeniably cleaner and cooler.
Jorah struggled to push the dagger through Aggo's fingers, like shoveling shit in an outhouse without a proper toilet. The blade scraped against his scalp, peeling away thick layers of black grime.
This was a peculiar concoction of hair oil, sweat, dandruff, dust, and flea eggs, fermented for months.
Aggo, now bald on top and at the temples, resembled a turtle shedding its shell—a truly hardened, crusty shell!
"How does it feel?" Rakharo asked curiously from the side.
"How does it feel?" Aggo's face lit up with the exhilaration of someone who had finally been relieved after weeks of constipation. He murmured, "It's like taking off a sheepskin blanket I've been wearing all day in the summer heat—I feel so much lighter, almost as if I've shed a great burden."
"It's not an illusion," Daenerys chimed in, exaggerating. "Your head is at least three pounds lighter now."
"The braid is still perfectly intact!" Quo exclaimed, pointing to the patch of hair left at the back of Aggo's head. "Look, the length hasn't been affected at all. This hairstyle is absolutely brilliant! It's a gift from the Horse God, bestowed upon us through the Khaleesi. It should be adopted across the entire Great Dothraki Sea!"
"Khaleesi, could we get our hair cut like that too?" Jhiqui, a Dothraki handmaiden, asked enviously.
Daenerys nearly choked on her own saliva.
"You'd be better off just cutting your hair short."
In the end, all her Khals, male and female, had their hair cut by more than half. The men, including the boys, adopted new styles. The women had also intended to follow suit until they saw the ear-length bob Daenerys gave Doreah.
Daenerys herself didn't cut her hair. She didn't need to. First, she was heat-resistant. Second, cleaning her hair was simple—she just needed to roast herself in a bonfire.
Dandruff, grease, lice, and bacteria couldn't survive the 1000-degree flames.
Every time she bathed in the fiery heat, her three young dragons would flutter over, like toddlers following their mother into the women's bathhouse.
Watching Daenerys and the three dragons play in the flames, her handmaidens would gaze at her with expressions of awe, as if facing a deity.
It was through these fiery baths with her dragon-babies that Daenerys learned how to feed them.