"Woo woo woo woo woo woo woo." The desolate sound of war horns echoed in all directions, the earth torn apart repeatedly by the iron hooves of warhorses, those of the Two Cities' cavalry, and the Dothraki Screamers. War left layers of scars on the land, with corpses strewn everywhere.
"The Khal is dead."
"The Khal is dead." With Khal Drogo's death in battle, Drogo's Khalasar had completely disintegrated.
The Dothraki had wasted too much time against the solid shield wall. Now, the Khal's death completely crushed the Dothraki's confidence; they only wanted to flee the battlefield.
"It's on fire."
"It's on fire." An even more terrifying sight for the Dothraki Screamers was yet to come: Myr Fortress was burning directly ahead, thick black smoke billowing and surging into the clear blue sky. The cavalry led by The Red Viper had charged into Drogo's Khalasar's rear camp, killing and setting fires.
The Khalasar's rear camp contained Dothraki women, children, and slaves, along with the wealth and slaves the Dothraki had painstakingly accumulated. Once attacked, the Dothraki Screamers, who were fighting desperately at the front, became completely disoriented and utterly lost as to what to do.
The cavalry of the Two Cities, like a black flood, completely cut off the dothraki. Seven thousand heavy cavalry, four thousand light cavalry, and over a thousand auxiliary dothraki Screaming Warriors—this was Gendry's most formidable cavalry force.
The infantry formation led by Gray Wolf and Steel Fist, the main cavalry led by Gendry, and the reserve knights led by Gilo advanced together. The crescent-shaped formation pushed forward with irresistible force. Some Dothraki Screamers were killed by sharp swords, some were trampled by horse hooves, and others were shot by arrows; their defeat was like a mountain collapsing.
Face to face, Gendry looked at the enemy's chaotic formation. The panicked Dothraki no longer had any thoughts of reclaiming Khal Drogo's body. In this war, he would win a very decisive victory.
The key was still the battlefield and the initiative. Heavy cavalry excelled in head-on collisions, while the Dothraki excelled in their light and swift movements. If it were on the vast Dothraki Sea, Gendry would not have been so confident in defeating Drogo so easily. But fortifying walls and clearing fields, then striking with a sudden attack—this was Gendry's favorite tactic.
"Surrender and live!"
"Surrender and live!" The standard-bearers shouted loudly, the quartered banners on the bamboo poles even more distinct: the warhammer, the three-headed dragon, the liberated slave, the Wolf Pack.
But the Dothraki were, after all, a cruel and brave people. Many Dothraki preferred to die in battle rather than lay down their weapons.
The cavalry led by Gendry, Longspear, and others were like farmers harvesting wheat, cutting down stalk after stalk, but what they were taking now were lives.
Gendry carried two weapons, a spiked warhammer and an arakh. Gendry originally used the warhammer, but later preferred the sharp and wild arakh. The valyrian steel arakh in Gendry's hand was like a cold, pale moon, sweeping across the panicked faces of the Dothraki, leaving only death in its wake.
"Dying with Drogo were the elite warriors of the Dothraki," Gendry thought. Many of those who fell under his hammer and blade were young and robust Dothraki Screamers, but these young men were loyal to Khal Drogo until death.
"Kill, kill the combatants," Gendry said coldly. The battlefield was no place for a woman's compassion; the battle needed to be resolved quickly.
"Long live the warhammer!"
"Long live the warhammer!"
"Long live Lord Gendry!" The battlefield became a symphony of all sounds: cries of battle, wails of agony, the thunder of hooves, all merging into a cruel, decisive, and cold music.
Gendry rode across the battlefield. Dying horses lifted their heads and screamed at him. The wounded groaned or prayed. Medics with white badges began appearing on the battlefield, bandaging the wounds of the injured.
Gendry tried his best to comfort the injured taxi soldiers, holding their hands and asking about their wishes.
Gendry had the military judges record the names of these brave warriors. These soldiers fought for his great cause, for the future of the Triarchy. He needed to remember their names. The army was a strict and rigorous organization; good treatment and warmth were the only things he could do for these warriors.
After this engagement, the area in front of Myr Fortress seemed to have become a meat grinder. Every inch of land was soaked in blood, which turned black after flowing for a long time.
Dying horses, barely living men, arakhs stuck in the ground, arrows, and severed Dothraki heads and braids all attested to the brutality of the war.
Gendry removed his helmet, revealing his dark hair and deep blue eyes. With his helmet and visor off, he was a clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and charmingly heroic young man, full of vigor.
"Pay attention to battlefield discipline. The Wolf Pack, the Free Cities, and the Second Sons Legion were all brought out by me; their order is unquestionable. Only my auxiliary knights, the Dothraki warriors, might still be wild," Gendry said to Jorah. "If there is any burning, killing, or looting, you know how to handle it."
"Yes, my Lord," Jorah nodded. "I understand what you mean." Jorah wore a dark green surcoat over his armor. His gauntlets, knee guards, and great helm were now made of black refined steel. Jorah was perhaps the most familiar with the Dothraki.
Anguy, beaming, held a double-curved dragonbone longbow. This was the weapon of Qotho, Drogo's Blood Rider. Gendry had now gifted it to him, along with the Blood Rider's warhorse.
Gendry gained even more. War was indeed the easiest place to get rich quickly. Drogo's warhorse, golden belt, gold-handled whip, and even his head were now Gendry's spoils of war.
The war lasted for most of the day. By evening, Gendry could finally see the fruits of his labor. A Longspear was thrust into the ground not far from him, with Khal Drogo's head, complete with a hole, still hanging from its tip.
The discordant part was that behind Drogo's head, several gallows had been erected. Those dothraki auxiliary knights who had disobeyed orders and engaged in indiscriminate killing and looting were already hanging from them.
The officials of Myr and Tyrosh, the envoys from Qohor, Norvos, and the Ghiscari city-state of Lys, and Magister Oldero of Pentos all arrived at the battlefield, trembling. The battlefield was bloody, cold, and merciless, but what terrified them even more was that head of Khal Drogo.
Although Drogo was dead, his lingering prestige remained, still like a proud lion. More terrifying than Drogo was the warrior before them, the highest mountain beyond all mountains. One Drogo had already instilled great fear in them; they hadn't expected there to be someone even greater than Drogo.
"Braavos and Lorath are missing, as are Lys and Volantis," Gendry said, looking at the smiling faces of his subordinates or neighboring states. He held Tyrosh, Myr, and the Stepstones. Pentos was someone no one dared to offend. Norvos and Qohor also had slaves, but they were far from the Two Cities, and the Dothraki were their biggest problem. Moreover, among the slave-holding city-states, they didn't rank high, and neither city-state was a core of the slave trade.
The city-states that hadn't arrived, Lys and Volantis, because they themselves enslaved many people and harbored fugitive nobles from the Two Cities, were now very worried about Gendry's attack, so the two sides were now subtly at odds. Braavos's silence and ambiguous attitude were mainly because the old Sealord was gravely ill and likely plotting other matters.
"My Lord, congratulations on your great victory," the corpulent Magister Oldero said with a fawning smile, like a humble slave or steward.
"Yes, yes, this truly is an unprecedented victory," the envoy from Lys also began to flatter.
"Yes."
"Yes, only a great man like Commander Gendry could achieve such a great feat," the Qohor man continued his sweet talk.
Gendry glanced at those people, looking around with unmatched poise. Gendry watched them—whether it was the Pentos Magister with his forked beard and jeweled fingers, the gloomy Qohor envoy, the bearded Norvos monk-envoy, and so on—all were respectful and dared not speak presumptuously in front of him.
These high-ranking officials and nobles from the city-states felt a sense of weakness and powerlessness in his presence, instinctively wanting to kneel. Pirates, Bloodbeard, Khals, Magisters—these failures forged Gendry's reputation. This was a naked display of power and authority, the old king fallen, the new king ascended.
"I am very pleased to work with all of you. I believe that many civilized city-states will also support my great endeavor to resist the barbaric Dothraki," Gendry said to everyone.
"Yes. Yes. Yes."
"Pentos is willing to offer the Commander-in-Chief appropriate grain and gifts," Magister Oldero quickly answered for Pentos. "I guarantee the Commander-in-Chief will be satisfied."
"We are also willing."
"We are also willing." The envoys from Qohor, Norvos, and Lys also quickly replied. For these Free Cities, spending money to avert disaster was a normal approach. They were once willing to offer gifts to the horse people, and now they were willing to offer gifts to Gendry.
"If the Commander-in-Chief wishes to go to Westeros to claim his and Princess Daenerys's inheritance, Pentos will also provide strong support," Magister Oldero promised with a grand gesture.
"We are the same."
"We are the same."
Gendry also appreciated their attitude; who would complain about too little money and supplies? Everyone understood this unspoken agreement. Moreover, one underlying reason for the Free Cities' tolerance of him was that Gendry would claim his rights to the iron throne. To conquer two Free Cities was already a huge appetite. Pentos and other city-states were merely willing to offer wealth, allowing Gendry to get entangled in the war in Westeros, thereby reducing his expansion in Essos.
A series of faint hoofbeats crushed the flattery and ingratiation of these Free Cities' envoys. The surrendered Dothraki warriors rode before Gendry's lines, cutting off their braids and throwing them at Gendry's feet. The Dothraki were truly convinced of their defeat; they were not defeated by the Unsullied, but by a new Khal.
"Riding the world's horse."
"Khal warhammer." The dejected Dothraki Screamers dismounted one after another and knelt not far from Gendry. Khal Drogo had failed, defeated by a stronger and more powerful Khal. To obey the strongest, that was the Dothraki rule.
Gendry looked at these Dothraki. If reorganized, the Screaming Warriors could be a formidable force, but many Dothraki, like Drogo, were stubborn-minded and could only serve as cavalry and expendables on the battlefield.
"Khal, Khal." After the Dothraki Screamers, the "Jaqarans" who carried heavy axes and put the wounded out of their misery also came to surrender, followed by the little girls who pulled arrows, who were originally meant to retrieve arrows from corpses for reuse.
"Since you honor me as Khal, then you must obey my commands and follow my lead," Gendry said to these people.
"Yes, Khal."
"At your command."
These spoils of war were what Gendry was most satisfied with: organized Dothraki Screamers. Even if some of Drogo's Screamers had fled, died, or were wounded, with strict reorganization, he could still obtain a Screaming Warrior order of about ten thousand men. The remaining wounded and children would have to wait until they were trained before being incorporated into his army.
Afterward, The Red Viper also drove many captives to Gendry's side. These people were all driven out of the Khalasar's main camp. Even in defeat and enslavement, Drogo's Khalasar's women and children still walked with a kind of indignant pride. There were few men among them; if any, they were cripples, cowards, and elderly grandfathers. Drogo's Khalasar camp left behind was already poorly defended, and even less able to resist the surprise attack led by The Red Viper.
"Drogo's rear camp has been captured by me, and most of the people are under my control. But I am very sorry, I failed to stop two Ko, Drogo's two Ko, Pono and Jhaqo, from escaping. They also took some women and children with them," The Red Viper apologized.
"It's not important. You've done well enough, Prince," Gendry said to The Red Viper. The Red Viper's surprise force was only two or three thousand men; controlling a rear camp was already very difficult. If the Dothraki had accelerated their escape, they truly couldn't have been stopped. After all, Dothraki Screamers had no heavy armor, and their horsemanship was first-rate.
The Dothraki under Drogo were killers whose courage had been broken by him. Even Khal Pono and Khal Jhaqo probably didn't dare to look back west, only daring to wander the Dothraki Sea.
"I present this to you, Commander-in-Chief," The Red Viper said, then had his men present a white lion's pelt, which Drogo had hunted on the Dothraki Sea.
"This white lion's pelt is quite good; it would make a suitable tapestry for a wall." Gendry naturally accepted this gift with a smile.
"The gold, grain, horses, and other supplies in the Khalasar camp have been sealed," The Red Viper whispered, truly showing noble integrity.
"I will remember the Prince's friendship," Gendry said, looking at The Red Viper. This man was indeed straightforward.
"Do you think I will treat you as slaves?" Gendry asked the defeated women and children. Many mothers were expressionless, lifeless, and stumbled as they pulled their constantly sobbing children.
An expression of terror immediately appeared on the faces of those women and children. The Dothraki were willing to accept their fate, but now they found that this Khal would give them a different fate.
"No, I will not treat you barbarically. You are my people, and you will be free."
As dusk gradually darkened, the soldiers still celebrated west of Myr Fortress, building bonfires and commemorating this great victory.
But Gendry soon received new guests: Qyburn had personally traveled from Myr to this place.
"What happened?" Gendry asked.
"Urgent, you need to see it yourself," Qyburn whispered. "Prince Viserys, Prince Viserys might..."
...On the road from Myr to the Dothraki Sea, the defeated Dothraki were like stray dogs, living in constant fear. Ko Pono, now considered Khal Pono.
Khal Pono angrily looked at the witch before him, "You lied to us, you deceived Drogo into believing he could win the war."
The witch was a spoil of war from when Drogo's Khalasar had plundered a small tribe. The witch had even prophesied a great victory for Drogo in the Battle of Myr, and that Drogo would become the Khal who rode the world's horse.
The witch looked coldly at the sky, "You plundered my village; I could only give you such an answer."
"I will kill you," Khal Pono said furiously, his eyes seeming to spit fire.
This poor witch from an unknown village was dragged behind a horse until she was dragged to death.
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