Game of Thrones: The Black Dragon King

As dusk fell, the harbor of Meereen was bustling with activity, the docks teeming with activity. Green flags with silver seahorses fluttered in the warm Meereen wind. Colorful banners hanging from the city walls shimmered in the golden light of the setting sun, and crowds surged forward on tiptoe along the streets, petals mingling with olive and laurel leaves falling in a soft rustling sound.

Rhett and Saladin stood side by side, ready to welcome this distinguished guest from afar.

"So this is your reason for abandoning official duties and riding dragons to fly around every day?" Saladin's voice carried a hint of resentment.

"Don't look so glum, old man. Don't you think the arrival of the grain ships is more effective than me signing a hundred decrees on my desk?" Reed said with a cheerful expression.

Saladin glanced at the emaciated yet jubilant crowd around him and shrugged helplessly. "You're right."

As Wymond and Cobbry stood on the ship's railing, they were momentarily stunned by the cheers that erupted across the hills as the ocean-going sailboat docked. Petals clung to Cobbry's shoulder armor, and the young man's ears turned red. They had expected Reed to greet them politely, but they hadn't anticipated such a city-wide celebration.

"Don't be surprised. They just heard the good news: the Giscali coalition's cavalry has been annihilated, the Lazarin region has been expanded, and the sea blockade has been broken. Everyone's celebrating." Reed greeted them, glancing at the mountain of grain sacks behind him. "Besides, your ships arrived laden with a massive amount of food. Before this, the city was nearly starving. You're saviors!"

As long-unemployed dockworkers lined up with joyful expressions, carrying enormous sacks of grain—so heavy they could crush them—from the ships, the deafening cheers directly confirmed Reed's words.

Cobley, still clutching his petal-stained gloves, remained silent. Reid, however, turned to Saladin and asked with a smile, "Are the taverns and brothels in town still open? We should treat our distinguished guests well, as they've come from afar."

Saladin lowered his eyes, his tone somewhat embarrassed: "Although this goes against doctrine and morality, these two industries do indeed improve the stability and livability of the city, and can reduce crime to some extent, so they are not prohibited."

"That's how it should be. Give the order to protect and entertain these lovely sailors well." Reed smiled slyly, rubbed his fingers together with Saladin, and winked. "These men have been at sea for so long, their burning desires and pockets full of silver coins deserve a good home!"

Wei Mengde laughed loudly, "Sir, you truly understand the mind of men from the sea."

"Let's drink and party tonight, and forget about everything else." Reid waved his hand and was about to lead the group into the city when Wei Mengde raised his hand to stop him.

Wei Mengde stopped laughing, his eyes darkening and becoming more composed. He glanced at the noisy crowd around him, then at the guards standing behind him, and turned slightly to Reid: "Let the sailors go have their fun. I'd like to find a quiet place for you to talk privately."

The wind carried cheers and the scent of flowers as it swept by. The smile in Reed's eyes faded slightly. He glanced at Weimond's solemn expression and nodded in agreement: "Follow me."

Cobley and Reid's servants stood guard outside the door. The wooden door to the study was closed, completely shutting out the commotion outside. Only the candlelight flickered gently in the bronze lamp, casting a warm glow on the shelves full of parchment scrolls, swords, and spears.

A waiter brought in a fruit platter and poured two glasses of wine, then bowed and left the room. Wilmond sat down immediately, picked up a juicy orange, and began to eat it, peel and all. Reid casually dragged over a wooden chair, sat down, propped his elbows on the table, and pushed a glass of wine toward Wilmond.

After finishing the oranges and quenching his thirst from the long sea voyage, Wei Mengde cut straight to the point without any pleasantries: "My lord, the primary reason we've come here is to discuss the agreed-upon army on behalf of the Valerian family. The battle on the Steppes is at a stalemate, and we can't afford to relax even for a moment. The Valerian fleet is blockading the Steppes, but we lack land-based support. As you know, Meereen is surrounded by enemies on three sides and has just finished a major battle. I need to ascertain the strength of your forces and how many you can actually spare to fulfill the agreement and fight."

Swiss said confidently, "There is absolutely no problem with troop strength, and the troop configurations are diverse, so you can choose whatever you like."

As he spoke, Reed raised his hand and tapped his temples, as if taking count. His voice was crisp and clear, carrying the familiarity characteristic of a mercenary leader: "Currently, we have about two thousand Unsullied available. They are not slaves; they were all handed over to me by our former lords after their surrender. They have regained their freedom and are now receiving a salary and performing their duties, but their discipline and combat effectiveness remain intact."

"There are still 1,700 mercenaries being held in the POW camp. These men value their lives and are eager to escape POW life. We can get them out and use them by signing new contracts with them."

"There are also 1,500 heavy cavalry; 3,500 horse archers; 3,000 heavy swordsmen among the infantry; 3,000 chain hammer soldiers; about 3,000 crossbowmen among the ranged units; 4,200 archers; 1,000 mechanics; and eight types of large siege engines, including engineering machines, catapults, and giant crossbows. They are readily available, you can choose whatever you like."

As soon as he finished speaking, Reed bent down and pulled out a thickly dusty leather booklet from under the table. He brushed off the dust and pushed it in front of Wei Mengde. The gold foil patterns on the cover were worn and faded, clearly indicating that it was an old book from when he was a mercenary.

Reid opened the book, his fingertips tracing the dense text and diagrams on the pages. He instantly switched to a highly professional demeanor as he returned to his old ways: "Look, this page is the table of contents for each type of unit. Each unit has a detailed introduction on its page. They each have their own characteristics and strengths. For example, the heavy cavalry's strong defense and charging ability, the archer cavalry's unique mounted archery skills, the chain mace infantry's attack capabilities and melee skills, the crossbowmen's accuracy and penetration, and the archers' range of projectiles. All of these are clearly marked in this booklet."

"You can choose the most suitable combination from this list based on the actual terrain of the battlefield, the enemy's troop composition, and tactical objectives. I will ensure that each selected troop type can exert its maximum combat effectiveness. I recommend the Chain Hammer Infantry; it is well-suited for assault and mopping-up operations, making it very suitable for the Bloodstone Island combat scenario."

Wei Mengde lowered his head and flipped through the booklet, his brows furrowing more and more with each page. The details were so meticulous, down to the thickness of armor for different troop types and the standards for supplying troops on the march—far exceeding the instructions his uncle Corliss had given him before departure. Even with his extensive experience in naval conflicts, he was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of detail. He closed the booklet, his fingertips pressed against his brow, and said in a deep voice, "The proportions and combinations of troops to be deployed need to be carefully considered. I'll go back and sort it out."

"no problem."

"Besides, this is all on paper. I'd like to visit your military camp in person to see for myself."

"That would require daytime; how about we schedule it for tomorrow morning?"

I overheard it by accident.

Reid had anticipated his reaction, smiled, leaned forward slightly, and offered another suggestion: "After we finish discussing your business, let's talk about mine. When your fleet returns, do me a favor and transport troops! There are signs that Valantis and the Gith are forming an alliance, and I don't want to go by land anymore. The Valerian's navigation skills are reliable; transport my cavalry to the disputed lands for a landing."

Wei Mengde immediately looked up and said bluntly, "This was not in the original agreement. Moreover, the capacity of my fleet was originally prepared for transporting grain and supporting the agreed-upon army. There is no extra space available."

"I'll make up for the transport capacity," Reed immediately replied. "The warships from Astapor and Yunkai that we captured earlier, plus the merchant ships and warships that Meereen already had, are all under your command. That should be more than enough ships to transport troops."

"Having more ships is useless. Meereen doesn't have that many experienced sailors. When sailing on the open sea, you can't afford to make even the slightest mistake." Wimund's words hit the nail on the head. The Valerian sailors had been at sea for a century, and he knew this all too well.

Reed laughed upon hearing this, his tone carrying a deliberate flattery, yet he spoke frankly: "Isn't that what we have? The sailors of Valerian, throughout Westeros and even Essos, who doesn't call them experienced and professional? If you spare some men from your side to supplement the fleet, this matter is a piece of cake for you."

Wei Mengde glanced at him, knowing exactly what was going on: "You're still trying to use this opportunity to train ocean-going sailors, aren't you? Going through all this trouble!"

"Learning from outstanding individuals is also a fine tradition of ours."

Wei Mengde picked up the wine on the table, took a sip, and said slowly, "This is an extra service beyond the agreed obligations, so it costs extra!"

Reid was prepared. He raised his hand and gestured, his tone straightforward: "I'll give you extra security—dragon escort. From Meereen to the disputed lands, dragons will accompany you the entire way. Pirates at sea and the remnants of the Three Bitch Kingdom's fleet will have to hide from dragons, ensuring your fleet's safe journey."

"You were going to set up defenses in the disputed lands anyway, and the dragon was following you. What kind of extra protection is that? It can't make up for the extra work of the fleet." Wei Mengde didn't budge an inch. His uncle had asked this guy for favors before and had been ripped off quite a bit. Today, he was going to get his revenge.

Reid choked for a moment, then laughed and cursed, spreading his hands: "Fine, you win. Add two hundred more mercenaries, free of charge, at your disposal, to bolster your fighting strength on the Stone Steps Islands."

"Two thousand," Wei Mengde announced the number, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"You're asking for the moon!" Reed frowned. "Three hundred is the limit; after all, your transport capacity is limited."

"Eighteen thousand! And don't you still have your ship?"

"Five hundred? I already added three hundred for you, and you only lowered it by two hundred?"

"One thousand and five!"

······

"Eight hundred!" Wei Mengde relaxed slightly, "but I'll decide the type of troops. They need to be elite, able to go straight to the battlefield. If even one is missing, I won't take on this troop transport job."

The study was silent for a moment. The candlelight flickered, reflecting the gazes of the two men. Finally, Reid laughed first, patting the table: "Eight hundred it is! You can choose any type of troop, as long as your fleet safely delivers my cavalry to the disputed territory."

Wei Mengde nodded slightly and shook hands with him. Both of their palms were calloused, and the handshake was quick and easy, thus finalizing this additional deal.

With the deal settled, Wei Mengde's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. He picked up his wine glass and downed the remaining wine in one gulp. The wine's tartness and fruity aroma diluted the tension of the negotiation. "In that case, I will go to the military camp tomorrow. If the number of soldiers is accurate, the troop transport can be finalized."

As he spoke, he stood up, his gaze sweeping across the window. The night was deep, and although the distant clamor had faded, faint sounds of music and laughter could still be heard—the sailors' revelry.

Reed stood up, walked to the window, and opened it a crack. The evening breeze, carrying the scent of wine and the sea breeze, poured in, dispelling the stuffiness in the study. "Don't worry, the troop numbers will be even more complete than those in the brochure."

"Is there anything else?"

"Speaking."

"My uncle ordered a Valyrian steel sword from you. Is it finished yet?"

"This..." Reed stammered, scratching his head. He'd almost forgotten about the client's request—it was so important! Where had he put the drawings the sea serpent had given him? He'd have to look for them later...

"May I be permitted to observe this ancient and mysterious Valyrian art?" Wimund asked expectantly, his eyes gleaming.

"How about tomorrow afternoon?" Reed reluctantly asked, pondering how to use his master blacksmith to intensify Ham Black's power.

"It's an honor. Please rest assured, I'll only wear glasses."