"Don't worry, old man."
Mora stood up with his wine glass. Many Dothraki elders and Northmen elders gathered around him.
These old men drank wildly without distinction whenever they raised their cups.
Only by their skin color and appearance could one tell they were not compatriots, but the First Men elders, like the Dothraki, had also taken off their shirts, revealing bodies tempered by ice and winter.
"Just with all those scars on you, there will definitely be no shortage of young men challenging you."
Mora let out a sharp battle cry, and the Dothraki around him echoed it with cries of their own.
Robb Ryswell stood up, unwilling to be outdone.
The old Northman let out a wolf-like howl, which only made the Dothraki even more excited.
This old man of House Ryswell was very popular among them—not because House Ryswell's sigil was a horse, but because this old man was indeed a warrior.
The Dothraki respect warriors.
They do not respect the old and weak, but if they are brave or wise elders, they will also place them in positions of honor.
This was also a new change within Khal Ago's khalasar.
His khalasar did not need to deal with the plunder and attacks of rival khalasars that might appear at any time.
The old and the children were no longer burdens, and experienced elders still possessed great value.
All of this was due to the nomadic range Dragonzel had designated for Khal Ago's khalasar, which stretched across the entire northern region of the Borderland Principality, from the westernmost territory of Balance Fort to the easternmost territory of White Tower City.
Khal Ago's khalasar could migrate to established settlements for grazing at fixed times.
If it was within Dragonzel's direct domain, Khal Ago's khalasar did not need to pay anything.
If it was on the lands of other lords, they only needed to provide some cattle, sheep, and warhorses as compensation.
Experienced elders had already traveled throughout the entire Borderland Principality several years ago on behalf of the tribe.
They knew where the water and grass were plentiful, where Silver Blood Army estates were located near the pastures for easier access to supplies, and where local villages were more welcoming.
The thousands of Dothraki who migrated to Westeros gradually abandoned many old traditions, especially after the addition of the First Men from the North.
They brought with them the equally rough and generous customs of the First Men, making these foreigners far from the Great Grass Sea feel a strong sense of familiarity.
The two ancient peoples blended together remarkably well.
There was even a man from Bear Island named Jorah who, through his martial prowess, became one of Ago's three bloodriders.
Now he also spoke fluent Dothraki and Valyrian.
This settlement, whose name meant "City of the Khal's Tent" in Dothraki, became increasingly lively as the sun gradually rose.
Ago's three bloodriders, Zhomoro, Dahan, and Jorah, stood shirtless around an old man who was clearly a Northman and lit the bonfire at the center of the settlement.
An ancient weirwood had been transported from Dragon Nest City several days ago and transplanted here.
Its enormous canopy did not obscure the rising bonfire. Instead, it made the flames appear even brighter.
They almost rivaled the rising sun itself.
"Roar~"
A long and powerful dragon roar came from afar.
At that moment, whether Dothraki, Northmen, invited villagers from nearby settlements, or passing merchants, all knelt on one knee to welcome their lord and king.
The Kingsguard and the seven Bloodsworn Brothers who had already arrived waited respectfully.
Tigaro and Sebastian were responsible for guarding the castle. Of course, they had also entrusted Aslan and Hofa with gifts for their former brother: a dragonbone arakh and a large bottle of fine Lysene wine.
Among the guests were two familiar faces.
Stannis Storm, the bastard of House Caron from Nightsong.
This bastard, who had originally come as a spy for House Caron to gather intelligence when Dragon Nest City and Summerhall were first being built, was now Count Royce Cullen's right-hand man.
His purpose in coming to Summerhall this time was to protect House Caron's heir, young Baylan Cullen, who was fostered in the Purple Palace and now served as Hofa's squire.
The person beside Stannis was another familiar face.
Erik Storm, the bastard of House Swann of Stonehelm.
Unlike Stannis, who had risen rapidly after House Caron swore allegiance to House Varezes, Erik remained House Swann's intelligence gatherer.
He had struggled as well.
King Aegon's candidate list for the Kingsguard had once included him, but unfortunately he encountered Ser Harrold Darke, who had already donned the white cloak, and was unhorsed with a single lance thrust.
As a result, he could only continue serving as a spy.
"Listen, Erik."
Stannis watched several black dots growing larger in the distance and quietly reminded him.
"A Dothraki wedding lasts an entire day. It is said that death at a wedding is considered good fortune. These grassland barbarians used to publicly mate during weddings and fight fiercely over women. So if you want to stay alive, just wait until Khal Ago and Khaleesi Agatha refuse the ceremonial dishes, then focus entirely on eating. The Dothraki do not harm unarmed people, nor do they harm guests who are focused on enjoying their food."
"Oh."
Erik replied somewhat dejectedly.
His mission had essentially been declared a failure.
House Swann now ignored him and had even stopped sending his annuity.
The only reason he had not starved to death was because he still possessed a horse, a sword, and armor, allowing him to earn a living escorting caravans.
Stannis would also occasionally give him some money to keep his old friend from starving.
But just then, Stannis noticed Erik's pupils suddenly dilate.
The bastard sighed again.
"It's just dragons, isn't it? You see them every day. Is it really that big of a deal?"
Of course it was.
After all, every Westerosi boy dreams of riding a dragon and soaring through the skies.
Likewise, every Dothraki boy dreams of conquering the world atop a flying winged steed.
The sky, which had only just begun to brighten, darkened once more.
Vermithor's enormous wings covered the entire tent city.
Beside him, Silverwing released a thunderous roar as she accompanied Vermithor in landing upon the hill overlooking the gathering grounds.
Closely following the two dragons came Stormcloud and Shadow Nightmare.
These young dragons roared as they swooped down, circling once above the crowd before descending beside the larger dragons.
The two young and agile dragons left a deep impression upon the spectators.
Especially Star Song and Dawnfire, who landed immediately afterward.
Today was Samantha's second time riding a dragon into the sky.
Unlike her brother's confidence, the little girl rode very cautiously, remaining pressed flat against the saddle.
Dawnfire also seemed to sense its rider's nervousness and specifically extended two tentacles to help secure her body.
However, its remaining tentacles fluttering in the wind, combined with its unusual appearance, caused many of those kneeling below to exchange puzzled glances.
Of course, they only wondered silently what might be wrong with this dragon.
They would never question its beauty or ugliness.
After all, a dragon was a dragon.
And power was always beautiful.
As all the dragons landed, the crowd finally saw the riders upon their backs.
Dragonzel and Diana carefully climbed down from Vermithor.
To help Diana descend safely, Vermithor even stretched out a wing, allowing her to dismount more steadily.
Ray and Rhaenyra, Valarr and Leira also descended from their dragons.
Among the ladies, Rhaenyra was the most excited.
She had dreamed of riding a dragon since childhood, but unfortunately her Dawn was still too small.
Therefore she could only ride upon Ray's companion first.
When she dismounted from Shadow Nightmare, she even circled the black dragon several times, causing Shadow Nightmare to grumble in annoyance.
Viserys followed behind Aegon, holding Lingor's hand with one hand and Samantha's with the other.
The three boys had discussed their clothing for a long time and finally decided to wear sleeveless painted vests to the wedding.
Only after arriving at the Dragonpit and seeing Dragonzel and the others did they regret their decision.
Dragonzel and the adults wore perfectly normal clothing and had not changed their attire according to Dothraki customs at all.
Unfortunately, it was already too late.
The three boys could only fly to the wedding in their sleeveless vests, causing the White Knight's eyelids to twitch repeatedly.
However, Ser Steffon Darklyn, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, felt greatly relieved.
This showed that Aegon, like his brother, was a king who cared deeply for his people.
"Great Khal, may we begin?"
As Ago's elder, Mora dared not continue drinking and quickly returned to his position, glancing toward the sky.
Dawn had arrived.
"Yes."
Dragonzel crooked a finger.
Vermithor, who had been enjoying the horse meat and venison offered by the Dothraki, raised his head.
A pillar of flame shot skyward.
Beside them, the shirtless nomadic warriors blew their horn trumpets.
Two steeds slowly entered the center of the tent city.
Ago and his Khaleesi, the warrior Agatha, slowly rode toward the central bonfire.
After seeing the dragonfire pierce the heavens, the young khal and the silver-haired warrior circled the bonfire again and again.
Finally, Ago rode his horse directly through the flames and swept Agatha from her mount into his arms.
The crowd immediately erupted into howls.
Even Aegon and Viserys could not help shouting.
"Samantha, how about I marry you like this someday?"
Aegon smiled at the little girl who was completely absorbed in watching Ago lift Agatha.
She immediately glared at him.
A moment later, Aegon noticed Dragonzel's half-smiling gaze behind him and obediently sat back down.
"Ago, my companion."
Dragonzel looked at the khal atop his horse.
"Congratulations on marrying your moon and stars."
"My Blood of My Blood, your arrival is a great honor for me."
Ago replied excitedly.
"My blood will always beat for you, my Blood of My Blood."
Dragonzel smiled and gestured for Valarr to hand his gift to Mora before quietly observing the ceremony.
"Khaleesi of my Blood of My Blood."
The old bloodrider Zhormoro stepped forward first.
He presented a dragonbone whip.
"May your horse always gallop across the endless grasslands."
"May his horse always gallop across the earth."
Agatha was a fiery woman.
She remounted her horse, accepted the whip, and immediately lashed it toward Ago.
Ago laughed, caught the whip, and pulled it back with a powerful tug.
"Just like that."
The warrior woman laughed heartily as she accepted the arakh handed to her by Jorah.
After exchanging several blows with Ago, she naturally returned the curved blade to her husband.
The final gift was Dahan's longbow.
Agatha drew it effortlessly, displaying her strength before returning it to Ago.
"By the Great Stallion."
The Northman elder stood beneath the heart tree and raised his voice.
"And in the sight of the heart tree, witness the union of the khal and his Khaleesi. The children of Khaleesi Agatha shall take up the arakh and ride across the earth beneath the dragons. The heart tree bears witness. The gods bear witness!"
The howls of the crowd surged like a tidal wave, instantly overwhelming everyone's ears.
With the addition of the First Men of the North, the already reformed faith of Khal Ago's khalasar had once again absorbed new influences.
The heart tree was regarded as the observer of the gods and was worshipped accordingly.
To be honest, much of the Old Gods faith was simply nature worship.
Even the First Men themselves did not truly know what they worshipped.
Then the fighting began.
The people of Ago's khalasar no longer fought over women.
Instead, they fought in pairs, reveling in the joy of battle.
Some women joined the contests as well, eager to prove their bravery equaled that of men.
Robb Ryswell roared as he defeated three Dothraki warriors, only to finally be thrown to the ground by Dorko through sheer strength.
The honorable death he longed for still did not arrive.
The old man could only return in disappointment to drown his sorrows in pepper wine.
Some Dothraki warriors even challenged the Kingsguard and the Bloodsworn Brothers.
Yet because they lacked comparable equipment, they all eventually lost.
The children watched excitedly, eager to join the fighting themselves.
Naturally, they were restrained.
The battles continued for an entire day.
The Dothraki wedding slowly came to an end.
No one died during this wedding.
But hundreds bled.
No offspring were conceived either, because those customs were far too barbaric.
Instead, hundreds of warriors—both men and women—proved their courage.
Dragonzel rewarded them on the spot.
Perhaps that had been the true purpose of the grand melee all along.
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