Legend of the Dragon King of Ice and Fire

v2 Chapter 292: Taste of the Tempest Dothraki

Zhuo Ge walked through the rolling door without squinting, and walked up the luxurious aisle with Mill carpet in the middle, everyone's eyes were focused on him.

"Kaoh."

"His Majesty."

The people at the banquet stood up and raised their glasses to him.

The low square table was full of dishes, the figs, dates and pomegranates on the plate were piled up high, and there were large chunks of half-cooked horse meat and beef, and the coolly-dressed women danced smartly and shuttled between them.

Many people have long been drunk with mare cumin, and some people have quarreled because of the alcohol's strength and yelled at each other.

However, everyone knows that there can be no **** conflict tonight, because in the new law, both weapons and fighting are absolutely prohibited.

Zhuo Ge leisurely sat on the highest stool.

Cao's gaze swept across the crowded dining table by the wall, and those with braids shorter than fingernails were sitting on the tattered and flat cushions at the bottom, surrounding the low table.

Almost every face he saw was black eyes and bronze skin.

Because of him, the status of Dothraki is much more respected than other races.

Zhuo Ge only recognizes strength, but he will not break this status quo. Those who have the guts to live, and others who have no guts to compete with Karratha, deserve to fall into the lower ranks.

In the middle of the hall, by the brazier in the middle, he caught a glimpse of Tyrion Lannister.

The dwarf who couldn't understand Dothraki seemed very lonely, and drinking and watching the performance in silence was his way of covering up his embarrassment.

Although that position is not a lofty position, it is at least envied by many people.

The Dothraki only respected the strong and powerful. Cao saw Romo swaying to pull the dwarf and asked him why he let the chef put too much pepper in the soup.

In order to relieve him, Zhuo Ge sent a maid to bring him to his table.

The little devil came immediately and knelt down on one knee in front of him.

"Your Majesty," he said, "I am waiting for you."

Ago, Qiaogo, and Rakalo are now greeted by the lion army in a storm, so the old Mosuo and the heroes are placed in honor positions on the left and right sides of Zogo.

Zhuo Ge patted the cashmere cushion beside him.

"Sit down and talk to me."

"It's a great honor for me," the little devil couldn't wait to step up, and sat cross-legged on the chair cushion.

A sommelier rushed over immediately and presented a wooden tray full of ripe figs.

The little demon picked one and bit it in half.

Zhuo Ge asked thoughtfully: "Sir Tyrion, as my former prime minister, why do you do something to deepen the conflicts among the soldiers?"

The little devil trembled slightly, but his expression was calm, and he pretended not to ask clearly: "Your Majesty is talking about diet problems? Soup?"

The Dothraki can't stand the heavy soup that the Westeros are accustomed to. Zogo understands this, so he often goes to the kitchen to make instructions.

"Yes," Zhuo Ge confirmed, and he said with some disappointment: "There are many people who want to go to the logistics department to mess around. It is not a lot of trouble to make two different flavors of soup. It is easy to solve the problem, you Why don't you ask the chef a few more words?"

The little devil replied with an apologetic look: "What your majesty said is that I thought the former prime minister's business was to deal with political affairs, so I didn't care too much about the kitchen. Please forgive me."

Zhuo Ge said suspiciously: "Of course, the Prime Minister is not a chef. He only needs to deal with political affairs, but from this incident, I can see that you seem to want to use such a mistake to relieve your bad mood."

Kao's eyes were unusually deep, as if seeing himself transparently, making the little demon secretly palpitations.

"Your Majesty, my loyalty to you is beyond doubt, and I will pay attention to my words and deeds in the future."

Zhuo Ge pointed to Romo and said, "Your loyalty depends on hatred. Have you seen it? Our Jakalang seems to want to tear you in half, and only I can restrain him."

Romo looked at this place, as if he was looking at a dead person, extremely cold.

Tyrion had already noticed this point, and he dared not face it at all.

Zogo reminded him: "No one is allowed to carry weapons, and no bloodshed is allowed here, but I can't guarantee that no one will die, because someone like Romo's tyrannical Dothrack example, someone will sell his life for him. If he kills people without blood, he won't anger those **** gods in the sky."

Tyrion hadn't thought of this level, he hadn't thought of it at all.

He reluctantly said: "Then, then I will apologize to him?"

"No need, because you are the former prime minister of one person and more than 10,000 people. As long as you do something that convinces the Dothraki people, maybe even Romo will die for you!"

His Majesty's words meant something, and Tyrion knew that he must be included among the Dothrakis he was talking about.

Zogo is reminding the little devil that even if he kills James Lannister, it is in conformity with the military's will, and if the dwarf follows the crowd, he will be respected by righteousness and kinship.

Otherwise, you will lose your life.

Tyrion wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and stood up and asked: "Your Majesty, I understand, please allow me to retire for the time being."

Zhuo Ge waved at him indifferently.

The little demon bowed, and under the gaze of Romo who was like a thorn in his body, he tremblingly left the straw-woven palace.

Without a voice, Old Mosuo sitting on Zhuo Ge's right side commented: "That's an excellent half-man, just a little inexplicable arrogant."

Zhuo Ge raised his wine glass, and the maid filled him with sour, tangy, fermented mare's milk.

After taking a sip, Kao said faintly: "This is the characteristic of a born superior person, but arrogance doesn't mean that he doesn't understand smoothness. Wait and see if he really is in harmony with us~www.mtlnovel. com~ come, drink."

Time is slowly passing by, and people forget the time between cups and greets, but the rush of alcohol is reminding everyone that it's time to rest.

But Zhuo Ge didn't call the end, no one dared to withdraw first.

Just as Zoge was about to stage the finale, the little devil walked in with a team of chefs.

"Everyone, today's final dish is braised lion's head and mare's milk soup that can't smell the pepper. This is a dish prepared by the chef who I personally supervise and I hope everyone will like it."

After speaking, he instructed the chef to cut a piece of lion head meat and a bowl of Nunaixiang soup on each table.

The dishes and soup tasted strange, but the Dothraki people ate very happily.

Even Romo, who had been verbally insulting the little devil with Karratha, stopped, and reluctantly took a few mouthfuls, because he felt the little devil's favor.

No matter how muddled the others were, it was clear that the little demon was now the big red man next to Kao.

Tyrion's arrangement made Zhuo Ge quite satisfied, and he did not forget to chat with the old Mosuo on one side.

"Look, I'll just say he's very smooth."

Old Mosuo, who was dizzy with drinking, nodded as if understanding.

Before and after delivering the dishes and soup to everyone's eyes, Tyrion sat down next to Zogo again.

Old Mosuo, who was puzzled, asked him, "Where did this lion head come from? Wouldn't you cut the snowball?"

Of course, this is a joke, because Snowball's head is as big as a huge shield, and this lion head is obviously normal.

The evil aspects of the Dothraki people converged, and Tyrion's voice in the atmosphere became louder, and he talked more.

"Mosoko, the rich and powerful like to play, stab, and excite things, Night Song City is close to the ridiculous Dorne, isn't it strange that someone raises a lion?"

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