Aemon and Quellys

The Dothraki Great Grass Sea.

Vaes Dothrak — Sacred Mountain

The Dothraki crossed the vast, boundless Great Grass Sea and returned to the sacred homeland of the horse people.

Two enormous bronze horses stood along the main road, symbols of the Dothraki's faith in the Horse God.

Statues of Harpies, dragons, Griffins, and other creatures lined both sides of the road. Some were so lovely they were intoxicating; others were so ferocious they inspired fear.

They were all spoils the Dothraki had brought back from plundering other cities and villages.

Sacred Mountain, at its foot.

The clang of metal rang out.

Clang!

The silver-haired boy in a hide tunic flushed as he launched attack after attack with a Dothraki curved saber.

"Too slow, false dragon."

The scar-faced Bloodsworn blocked each blow with his saber, taunting him in an indifferent tone.

Whenever the Dothraki's saber came down, the other blade calmly intercepted it, then flicked it aside.

"Ah! I refuse to believe I can't beat you!"

Aemon shouted angrily, swinging his saber in a wide circle. It was longer than he was tall.

After months of migrating with the tribe, his once-fair skin had been baked a wheat-brown.

His snug hide tunic left his chest exposed, lending him a wilder air beneath his noble bearing.

At a glance, he even looked the part.

Thud!

A huge foot shot out swiftly, striking the collarbone his hide tunic couldn't cover.

Aemon groaned, his eyes rolling back as he flew through the air.

He tumbled several times, adding fresh wounds to his already battered, bare arms.

"Stupid beyond redemption."

The scar-faced Bloodsworn sneered. With a flick of his hand, he sheathed his saber at his waist and strode back toward Sacred Mountain.

By Dothraki custom, no iron could be used once one entered Sacred