At dusk in Essos, above the towering walls of Myr Fortress, the four-quartered banner still flew proudly in the wind.
The soldiers' morale was high. It was not merely because the defenders were well supplied or protected by strong walls, but because their leaders and commanders were present among them. In theory, a commander-in-chief could remain safely behind the lines, issuing orders from the rear. Yet there was an undeniable difference between ruling from afar and standing at the forefront of danger. Leading from the front forged cohesion, strengthened resolve, and inspired courage in a way that no written command ever could.
From the battlements, Gendry and the others watched as the Dothraki began a measured withdrawal, retreating just beyond the effective range of the catapults. Though the horse-lords were famous for their fearlessness, they were not fools. They would not waste lives charging headlong into stone and iron.
Below the walls lay a grim sight. The field was littered with the corpses of sheep-men, their bodies crushed and torn apart by catapult stones. Blood soaked the earth, turning the ground a dark, glistening red.
"Loose flaming arrows. Burn the bodies," Ser Jorah said gravely, staring down at the carnage.
Moments later, flaming shafts rained from the walls, hissing through the air before embedding themselves among the dead. Fire spread quickly, sending thick smoke curling skyward.
"That's wise," the Red Viper said in agreement. "We must guard against the blood plague."
If corpses were left to rot, disease would follow. Military camps and cities were fertile breeding grounds for pestilence, and the blood plague had haunted armies since the Dawn Age. Once it spread silently through the ranks, it could destroy an army more completely than any blade.
Gendry felt a measure of relief. The Free Cities, for all their flaws, maintained better standards of hygiene than many places in Westeros. Myr and Tyrosh did not reek like King's Landing. More importantly, Gendry had pushed for the widespread use of medics within the legions. In Westeros, monks and nuns often filled this role, but they lacked proper training. Countless soldiers died not from wounds, but from infection and malnutrition.
"Fortunately," Gendry said, watching Khal Drogo's khalasar in the distance, "the Dothraki lack technical skill."
For that, he was deeply grateful. The Dothraki relied on brute force. Had they possessed siege engines of their own, they might have hurled diseased corpses into the city to spread plague.
"The catapult fire is fierce," Ser Jorah said uneasily, "but today the Dothraki only sent sheep-men to fill the trenches. Drogo's real assault will likely begin tomorrow."
"The Dothraki have no real tactics for storming fortresses," Anguy said. "If we hold Myr long enough, we can seize the initiative. Like archery—victory lies in timing."
"I doubt Drogo will withdraw," Ser Jorah replied, shaking his head. "If a Khal retreats without victory, he is branded a coward. He would never survive such shame among his people."
"I agree," the Red Viper said. "Our priority should be to pin Drogo here. If he escapes back to the Dothraki Sea and scatters his forces, defeating him will become far more difficult."
"Don't worry," Gendry said calmly. "Drogo will stay."
Drogo embodied the Dothraki ideal of fearless, relentless assault. In the histories, Khals who hesitated or retreated rarely lived long. Gendry remembered how, in another tale, Drogo had died not in grand battle but from a festering wound—a victim of his own recklessness.
"Should we strike their granaries?" Anguy suggested. "Cut off their supplies."
"That won't work," Ser Jorah replied. "The khalasar guards its stores closely, and their scouts are vigilant. Even if we succeeded, the Dothraki can survive on horse meat."
"Then we hold the fortress," Gendry decided. "I will send light cavalry to harass their scouts at night."
"I can do that," the Red Viper offered. "I've fought the Dothraki before."
"Not yet, Prince," Gendry said, shaking his head. "Your cavalry will be more valuable elsewhere. Dornish horses endure where others falter."
He turned to the Red Viper. "Have the Ghiscari made contact?"
"In Lys, yes," the Red Viper replied. "But the Sarrabi are terrified. They can offer little support." He sighed. "Once, their kingdom ruled the Saarne basin and the Silver Sea. Now fewer than thirty thousand remain, hiding in a single city."
"That explains their fear," Gendry said with a short laugh. "Those thirty scythed chariots they sent are likely all they have left."
The Ghiscari and their allies—Qohor, Norvos, Pentos—were cautious. They would only commit fully once victory seemed assured.
"Scythed chariots are obsolete," the Red Viper muttered. "Better to dismantle them and give the horses to cavalry."
The Ghiscari way of war was rigid and outdated. Their chariots, once fearsome, had been annihilated on the Great Grass Sea.
"If Drogo keeps attacking like this," Gendry said, "we'll draw him into a war of attrition. After five days, reduce the catapult fire. I want to test his patience."
"Yes, Your Highness," Ser Jorah replied.
"Anguy," Gendry continued, "send word. Spread reports of Dothraki atrocities. Strengthen the Two Cities and the Stepstones. Place elite forces on standby."
Anguy nodded, already thinking of ravens.
Fear, Gendry knew, was as powerful as steel. To unite the cities, the people had to believe they faced monsters.
The Red Viper studied Gendry quietly. Despite his youth, he understood both war and politics. Some men, it seemed, were born for such burdens.
---
Far away, above the mountain stronghold of Gold Tooth, the lion banners of House Lannister flew proudly.
Jaime Lannister stood upon the walls, golden armor gleaming, gazing down at the Riverlands forces below.
"I see trout banners," he said coolly. "Idiots and chickens."
"They have four thousand men," Lord Lefford said disdainfully.
"Then they're already dead," Jaime replied. "Wait for my father's command. When it comes, we will crush them—and then march on Riverrun."
Jaime rested his hand on the sword that had slain a king, confident that war was finally upon them—and that the Riverlands would soon learn the price of defiance.
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