The Dothraki often say, "Everyone knows." When they use this phrase, it doesn't mean that everyone present is aware of a particular fact, but rather that they are expressing a widely accepted tradition.
The Horsemen's "everyone knows" actually embodies profound survival wisdom. For example, now, Daenerys's maids and Bloodsworn, fearing the demons, are urging her to avoid the City of the Dead, a place that could save her life.
Ji Qi says, "Once the gods depart, demons will roam at night to hunt." Does this reasoning hold any weight?
For herders who follow the grasslands and rivers, it holds considerable truth.
Why would a city die?
In this era and world, there are typically only two reasons: first, plague; second, war.
Plague goes without saying—it must be avoided. As for war, the massacres it leaves behind result in corpses piled high throughout the city, and these decaying bodies can trigger plagues.
The Horsemen aren't afraid of war, but when faced with the nearly irresistible germs that cause plague, they refer to them as the "demons" Ji Qi mentioned.
Through millennia of bloody lessons passed down by their ancestors, the primitive Dothraki had developed a set of survival rules perfectly adapted to this harsh land.
"I have a dragon," Daenerys could only reassure the Horsemen. "Any demon will instinctively avoid a dragon."
She didn't need to be reminded that the fresh City of the Dead was dangerous—everyone knew that, and she would instinctively avoid it herself. But who knew how many centuries had passed since that ruin's destruction? Whatever had caused its downfall back then could no longer harm them today.
Without delay, Daenerys immediately gave her orders: Recall the knights searching for water ahead, change the Khal's course, and send the leading twenty warriors to the White City to find food and water.
To soothe the worried Horsemen, Daenerys also dispatched the Black Dragon to accompany them.
*Hmm, she would enter Dragon Dream state and command the young dragon.*
Things progressed more smoothly than she had anticipated. An hour later, the Black Dragon arrived at the White City with the vanguard.
It was a white city, radiant as the moon and graceful as a maiden. Its white walls and towers shimmered in the hazy afternoon light, so beautiful it seemed like a mirage.
As they approached the outskirts of White City, at Daenerys's request, the Black Dragon struggled free from the bamboo basket on Aggo's back and soared into the sky.
With a single glance through Big Black's eyes, Daenerys saw a patch of vibrant green within the city walls.
As they drew closer, Daenerys, overcome with joy, involuntarily broke free from her Dragon Spirit state.
"There's an orchard there—fig trees, grapevines, even peach trees!" She stood up, grasping Doreah's hand, her face beaming. "Our group is saved! We can settle there and keep farming until the little dragon grows into a great dragon. Hahaha!"
In the afternoon, with the sun still hanging at a 45-degree angle in the sky, Daenerys impatiently urged Khal's to break camp and set out.
"No need to conserve energy this time—it's only a two or three-hour journey. Aggo and the others have prepared fresh fruit and sweet well water. Let's press on—hope is just ahead!" Daenerys longed to spur her horse into a gallop.
When they were still five kilometers from White City, Big Black flew over and landed on her shoulder. As the sky deepened into the hazy gold of sunset, Daenerys and her Khal's finally arrived at the base of the white city walls.
"I never thought we'd see such a magnificent structure in the barren Red Waste," Ser Jorah said to Daenerys with a tone of disbelief. "Even in our Westeros, cities like this are rare."
*That's your Westeros,* Daenerys thought. *This is my White City.*
Her violet eyes curved into crescents as she smiled. "I declare this city conquered!"
Seeing her joy, Jorah playfully added, "Then may I ask Your Highness to name your new city?"
She tilted her head in thought, then giggled and said, "White Cloud City," before spurring Little Silver into a gallop through the gates.
From a distance, it was a breathtakingly beautiful all-white stone city, its thirty-foot walls keeping out all the decay beyond. But once inside, they found a scene of utter ruin: demon grass grew between the cracks in the flagstones, and vines crept through collapsed houses. In the center of what should have been the main street, Daenerys even spotted a jujube tree as thick as her thigh, its branches bearing sparse clusters of small, green, shriveled fruits.
*Perhaps it grew from a date pit decades ago?*
"How long do you think this city has been abandoned?" she asked the people around her.
"Judging by how well it's preserved, I'd say thirty years, maybe forty," Jorah said uncertainly.
Daenerys shook her head. "Definitely longer than that."
She turned and called out to the old man, who was leaning against a branch, standing in the stirrups of his saddle and plucking jujubes: "Avanti, come here."
"Yes, Khaleesi. My horse is coming."
*Clip-clop, clip-clop* The horse's hooves rang sharply against the gray stone floor. In moments, it arrived before Daenerys.
"How old are you? Have you heard any news of this city over the years?"
"Khaleesi, have some jujubes." Avanti obsequiously offered seven or eight small, thumb-sized green jujubes to Daenerys.
"Eat them yourself," Daenerys said, shaking her head.
Avanti carefully tucked the jujubes into the saddlebag like precious treasures. After a moment's thought, he said, "Khaleesi, I don't know how old I am. On the Great Grass Sea, the seasons often stay the same for several years in a row. In my muddled state, I can't distinguish them clearly. I only remember seeing about eight or nine winters."
Not only among the Horsemen, who had never developed a calendar system, but even among the nobles of Westeros, few could keep track of the seasons and years. They relied entirely on the ravens sent by the Maesters of the Citadel each year to remind them.
In the world of ice and fire, there were no fixed seasons. For Daenerys, snow was a distant memory from her early childhood. Like many of her generation, she was a child of summer.
"When was the last winter? What season is it now?" she asked, turning to the most learned knight present.
*Uh, this is awkward.* Jorah Mormont, the rough-and-tumble warrior of Bear Island, had somehow become the resident intellectual under Daenerys.
Jorah scratched his sun-reddened scalp, pondering for a moment. "When I was still Lord of Bear Island, I think I heard a Maester say this summer was unusually long. That was... about six years ago, I suppose. So, it should still be summer. Ten years."
He glanced at the stifling, dark red sky and couldn't deny that it was still summer.
"You need a Maester," he sighed, suggesting helplessly.
"If a Maester ever came to my side, it wouldn't be long before every noble in Westeros had a detailed report on me and my dragons on their desk," Daenerys said softly, her tone noncommittal.
"It wouldn't be that bad," Jorah muttered weakly. "Maesters swear loyalty to those they serve."
He suddenly remembered himself.
Noticing the Khaleesi's questioning gaze, Avatar paused before saying, "In my memory, the Red Waste has always been an forbidden land, a place one cannot tread."
"Khaleesi, look!" As the group walked toward the palace at the city center, they reached a six-way intersection. Aggo suddenly cried out, pointing at an empty marble pedestal. "The Horsemen have taken the gods of the White City. A Khal must have passed through here, likely one of the Khaos who plundered this city."
"Hmm?" Old Avatar rode forward, circling the marble pedestal in the center of the street. He also exclaimed in surprise, "There really are Dothraki here. When could this have happened?"
"How do you know?" Daenerys asked, puzzled.
"Khaleesi, have you noticed?" Avanti gestured around the surrounding streets with his riding crop. "This is the central intersection of six streets, the heart of the city. The pedestal should have held the gods worshipped by the White City."
Daenerys nodded in agreement. "And then?"
"Don't you remember? Only the Dothraki have the habit of stealing the statues of other peoples' gods," Jorah interjected.
His reminder suddenly brought a memory to Daenerys's mind: after destroying a city, the Dothraki would steal its gods or statues of heroes.
The Dothraki's holy land began at Vaes Dothrak, with a main artery running through the city: the Avenue of the Gods.
Along this avenue stood countless statues, crafted from stone, bronze, iron, wood, and even Valyrian steel.
There were statues of gods, kings, and heroes, as well as effigies of the evil gods and demons of the Shadowlands.
"It seems this place is older than we thought, at least a century. The Dothraki must have come here when the river was still flowing. A few hundred Horsemen could never have taken this fortress," Daenerys mused.
As she spoke, Daenerys and her Khal's had already passed through the residential blocks and arrived at the ruins of the central palace.
The Horsemen refused to dwell in the stone houses, haunted by ghosts. Helpless, Daenerys allowed them to pitch their tents at the base of the towering palace walls, where the walls provided shade from the sun.
Once everything was settled, the Khal's gathered in the square before the palace. The warriors sent ahead had gathered a bounty of fruits: figs, grapes, peaches, and apples.
Though the fruits were generally stunted and lacked flavor, her people greedily snatched at them, shoving them into their mouths and chewing with satisfied grunts.
"The walls are white, the towers are white, the buildings on the streets are white, the palace remains a monotonous white, and there are even white skeletons scattered throughout the streets. The whole place is a sea of bleached bones. We should call it the City of Dry Bones," Jorah said in a peculiar tone, stroking his furry arm.
In truth, the city bore traces of countless fires, but the black marks left by the city-burning flames had faded and become mottled with time.
In the darkness, illuminated by the bloody glow of the red comet, only the wind howled like the wails of ghosts through the city's alleys, creating a truly eerie atmosphere.
The two Dothraki maids, already uneasy, began to tremble violently at the knight's words.
Ji Qi, her voice choked with tears, pleaded, "Khaleesi, we can't stay here! This is the domain of demons! Listen—they're cursing us from the corners!"
"What City of Dry Bones? Nonsense!" Daenerys glared at Big Black, her voice firm. "This is White Cloud City. I am its Lord. This is my territory."
"Hiss!" Big Black, receiving her command, opened his mouth and unleashed a stream of bright red dragonfire—30 centimeters long and as thick as a thumb—intertwined with black smoke. The sight was terrifying.
The two maids fell silent.