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In the year 292 AC, the War of Viserysgrad officially began.
After leaving the lands of Westriver, Viserys crossed back to Viserysburg and personally climbed the city walls at the foot of the mountain.
The Golden Company didn't all need to be packed into the City of Viserys; Viserys only took four hundred archers with him.
Flags with a red dragon on a black field fluttered atop the walls. The soldiers of the Golden Company were still somewhat curious upon seeing the red dragon banner, finding it a strange coincidence.
"What a magnificent city," Hakeem marveled.
"After this war, this fortress will be even more magnificent," Viserys said confidently to Hakeem.
The walls of Viserysburg were now double-layered; the inner wall was high, and the outer layer was relatively lower, but both were actually very tall. Outside the outer wall, there was also a moat.
The megaliths from the Velvet Hills had all been dedicated to the outer walls, serving as foundation stones.
Standing atop the wall, Viserys also saw the captives lying dead not far away—Lhazareen or escaped slaves.
Before their deaths, they had been humiliated by the dothraki, fleeing after being whipped or intimidated, only to be killed by arrows in the end.
The dothraki's atrocities, far from frightening the residents of the Andalos, only made them more and more furious.
This was the residents of Viserysburg witnessing the dothraki's brutality once again; they had to face this tragic reality.
The dothraki began their first charge, the ground trembling as if about to be split open by cracks.
The Screamers brandished their longswords, cold light glinting off the blades.
No one could doubt the martial prowess and ferocity of the dothraki, but their protection was indeed very poor.
The dothraki still wore their traditional attire: bare chests covered by painted leather vests, horsehair leggings, and bronze medallions around their waists.
"Catapults!"
"The catapults are firing!"
Within Viserysburg, the arms of the giant catapults—one, two, three, four—rose one after another.
Hundreds of stones climbed into the blue sky, each as large as a human head.
They plummeted down, some splashing into the river, others smashing through mounted cavalry, turning the dothraki into shattered bone, mash, and gore.
The soldiers affectionately called the catapults the Four Goddesses of Viserysgrad, delivering kisses of death to the Dothraki.
Some Dothraki riders were lucky enough to bypass the rain of boulders, but angry arrows were also falling from the city as longbowmen guided a relentless rain of shafts.
"Lord Hakeem, your men can wait a moment; our archers from the Andalos will take the field first," Hugo said to Hakeem.
Hakeem nodded. "No problem!"
Hakeem had brought four hundred archers as reinforcements. A third of his men used crossbows, another third used double-curved horn and sinew bows from the East, and among the remaining third, those of Westerosi descent used yew longbows that were even finer than the others.
Of course, the most formidable were the twenty Goldenheart archers Hakeem had brought, with another thirty remaining with the Golden Company; these fifty black archers from the Summer Isles were Hakeem's personal guard.
Only Dragonbone Bows in the world could rival Goldenheart bows.
Hakeem watched the longbow unit of the Andalos with interest; they seemed equally well-trained.
"Draw!"
"Loose!" Hugo commanded.
The longbowmen of the Andalos exerted their strength; the elite archers of the entire Andalos had gathered on the walls of Viserysburg.
The effective range of a longbowman was two hundred and fifty yards, and now, firing from a height, it was somewhat extended.
The bare-chested Dothraki once again met the kiss of death; wherever the arrows passed, they left bleeding holes.
Hakeem's expression grew increasingly solemn.
The walls were crowded with longbowmen of the Andalos, whose numbers even exceeded those of the Golden Company's archers, and they were just as sharp-eyed and skilled.
Hugo, serving as the commander of the archers, was also an extraordinary marksman.
Horses galloping at high speeds collapsed to the ground, neighing in pain, while the riders atop them were trampled to death by the following hooves.
The corpses left on the battlefield were a sorrowful sight; both horses and men were riddled with arrows like hedgehogs.
The road leading to Viserysburg had become a path of death, permeated with the stench of mortality.
"Do you see, Drogo? This is the gift I prepared for you." Viserys gripped the wall, wondering if Khal Drogo would still lead the charge in person.
"Cowards!"
"tyroshi hiding behind stones," the dothraki cursed; this storm of an attack had cost them dearly.
Khal Drogo's men also relied mainly on recurve bows and arakhs; it was like a fist hitting an iron wall, leaving them bloodied and broken.
On the other side, the Captain-General of the Golden Company, Myles Toyne, climbed the watchtower and used a myrish lens to watch the whistling stones fall like rain, like iron fists.
"It seems that if they continue to charge like this in this war, Khal Drogo will suffer," Mace mused.
"But how it will turn out is hard to say," the Paymaster, Harry, said cautiously.
Harry had always been cautious; rather than a warrior, he was more like a broker and a man who liked making friends.
"It's fine, Hakeem has already gone with the archers," Mace said.
"Marching is too hard; my feet blister so easily," Harry said. "Besides, is it necessary for us to participate in such a dangerous mission? We could clearly just wait and see."
"Don't you want to go home?" Mace said patiently to Harry.
Though his Paymaster was not a proper warrior and was more like a gossiping old woman, Mace had to rely on him.
After all, the Strickland family had been core members of the company since the day the Golden Company was founded.
Harry's great-grandfather had fought for the black dragon banner during the First Blackfyre Rebellion and lost all his lands because of it.
"I want to go home, but we could be a bit more cautious," Harry said.
"What do the brothers think?" Mace asked.
"The brothers think this is a risk; after all, the dothraki are not to be trifled with. By choosing the unfamiliar Andalos, we've essentially given up easy work in the Disputed Lands. But for the sake of the thought of going home, they compromised," Harry said with some doubt.
The tyroshi did not hire the Golden Company; after all, the price of hiring them was very high, but the Golden Company never lacked for clients.
Coming to the Andalos to fight also felt like an adventure to them.
"Home—I have never forgotten that word. I once swore to the banner, and I have not forgotten," Mace said, and Harry fell silent.
"Roar!"
The dothraki ranks began to scatter, trying to stay out of the catapults' range as much as possible.
But the longbows, Scorpions, and Ballistae also began to roar.
The dothraki left a vast carpet of corpses on the ground, yet they still hadn't reached the moat, let alone the main city of the Andalos.
The dothraki scouts advanced again; besides a tattered banner, their longswords were impaled with the heads of escaped slaves, some of whom were Rhoynar or Andalos.
"Cowards, come out and fight us!"
"A final battle!" the Dothraki demanded.
"Bring me my Dragonbone Bow," Viserys requested, and then the massive, double-curved dragonbone longbow was brought to him.
The arrow glided like smooth silk, forward and forward, until it pierced through a Dothraki.