At dusk in Essos, atop the towering Myr Fort, the Quartered Arms still flew proudly.
The soldiers' morale was high, because the front line was held not only by ordinary troops, but by their leaders and commanders as well. In theory, a commander could remain in the rear to direct the battle, or lead from the front. Compared with commanding from behind, however, nothing matched the unity and surge in morale that came from fighting at the forefront.
Gendry and the others watched as the Dothraki began pulling their forces back, withdrawing beyond the range of the catapults. The Dothraki might not fear death, but they were not willing to throw their lives away for nothing.
The Dothraki left the field strewn with the corpses of Lamb Men, a ghastly mess. Bodies smashed apart by the catapults made for a brutal sight, and the ground itself seemed stained red with blood.
"Fire flaming bolts. Burn the bodies," Jorah said, looking down at the corpses below. Burning arrows fell like rain, tearing through the stillness of the battlefield.
"That's the right call. We have to be careful of blood plague as well." The Red Viper approved of Jorah's decision. If the corpses were left to rot, they could easily spark an epidemic, especially in places as crowded as military camps and cities. Since the Dawn Age, blood plague had been the bane of armies. Once it spread silently through the ranks, it could bring about the destruction of an entire host.
What reassured Gendry somewhat was that the Free Cities had better sanitation habits. Myr and Tyrosh were not like King's Landing, reeking to high heaven. He had also introduced dedicated medics into his legions. In Westeros, that work was often done by septons and septas, but they were no substitute for trained medical troops. Many soldiers did not die in battle at all, but from infection and malnutrition.
"Luckily, the Dothraki don't have much in the way of technical skill," Gendry said, looking toward Drogo's khalasar in the distance. He was grateful for that. The Dothraki way of war was blunt and straightforward. If they had siege engines like catapults, the horselords could have hurled corpses into the city to spread plague.
"The catapults are hitting hard, but today the Dothraki only sent out Lamb Men to fill the trenches. Khal Drogo's real attack will probably begin tomorrow," Jorah said uneasily.
"The Dothraki don't know how to assault a strong fortress. As long as we can hold Myr Fort for a while, we'll get our chance," Anguy said. "It's like archery. You wait for the exact right moment."
"I don't think he'll withdraw," Jorah said, shaking his head. "From what I know, the Khals have always favored fighting boldly. If he loses heart in battle and flees back to the Dothraki Sea, Khal Drogo will return as a coward in the eyes of the Dothraki."
"I think so too. The only thing I'm considering now is how to keep Khal Drogo pinned here at Myr Fort. If he escapes to the Dothraki Sea and scatters his forces, he'll be much harder to deal with," the Red Viper said.
"Do not worry. I think Khal Drogo will die nailed here," Gendry said confidently. Khal Drogo's habits and tactics were much the same as the Khals before him, the sort who favored bold fighting and brute force. In the original course of events, he had suffered a serious blade wound while dueling another Khal, then died in a muddled and senseless way afterward.
"Should we burn the Dothraki grain stores now?" Anguy suggested. With the Dothraki camped beneath the high ground, the cruelest and trickiest tactic for the defenders would be to cut off their supplies.
"I'm afraid not," Jorah replied. "The khalasar usually stays right behind the Dothraki, and they make good use of scouts. We probably can't strike their grain stores. Besides, if it comes to it, the Dothraki can always eat horseflesh."
"Ser Jorah needs to hold Myr Fort. I'll send out light cavalry at night to harass the Dothraki scouts."
"That task can be left to me," said the Red Viper. "I dealt with the Dothraki before, though not often." He had spent two or three years as a sellsword, so the Dothraki were no strangers to him.
"Wait a bit, Prince. I'll use this special force of yours where it belongs," Gendry replied. Dornish horses were small, but tougher and more enduring, and they ought to be used where they would matter most.
"Has the Tall Men contacted you?" Gendry asked the Red Viper.
In Westeros, the Tall Men had a more famous name: the Sarnori, a title derived from the once-glorious Kingdom of Sarnor. The Tall Men shared the features of the Sarnori: slender, long limbs, brown skin like the Zoqora, and eyes and hair as dark as the deepest night.
"I did make contact with envoys from Saath, but the Sarnori are like spooked birds now. They simply can't offer much support," the Red Viper said with a dismissive snort, then sighed. "Still, I understand their predicament. At their height, the Kingdom of Sarnor ruled the Sarne basin and the three lakes that once formed the Silver Sea, with fifty cities guarding their capital. But after the Century of Blood, they've been reduced to fewer than twenty or thirty thousand survivors, holed up in a single small town."
"That's why the Tall Men fear the Dothraki so much. Those thirty blade-wheel chariots they sent are the last of what they have," Gendry said with a laugh. A fallen phoenix is no better than a chicken. After being slaughtered down to just twenty or thirty thousand by the Dothraki, how could they not be afraid?
Like the Sarnori, the supporters from Qohor, Norvos, and Pentos could provide aid, but only after the situation became clear would they dare to commit. If the tide of battle turned for the worse, none of these reinforcements could be relied upon.
"I can understand their fear, but even with bloodred horses pulling blade-wheel chariots, it's still an outdated tactic. We'd be better off dismantling the chariots and assigning those bloodred horses to the cavalry," the Red Viper said, unable to resist the jab.
Compared to the Dothraki, the Sarnori's tactics were indeed rigid. Their signature formation centered on chariots. Their knights wore armor woven from steel and spider silk, riding coal-black warhorses. Their most elite warriors fought from blade-wheel chariots drawn by bloodred horses, with the reins typically held by the warriors' wives or daughters. This was a Sarnori tradition, women going to war alongside men.
In practice, however, it proved ineffective. The Tall Men's last great army was ambushed on the Great Grass Sea by the Dothraki, and more than a hundred thousand were wiped out to the last man.
"If Drogo keeps attacking like this, we'll just wear him down. Five days from now, start reducing the frequency of catapult and crossbow fire. I want to see whether Drogo is truly unyielding and incapable of adapting," Gendry said to Jorah. "If he really intends to grind this out for months, then we'll show weakness."
Gendry was testing the Dothraki's resolve. With fortifications this strong, they could hold out for months. He intended to keep Myr Fort standing and trap Khal Drogo in a position where he could neither advance nor withdraw.
It had been the same in the Battle of Qohor. Khal Temmo likely realized that the three thousand Unsullied were unbeatable, but the cost already sunk was too great. The Dothraki do not respect cowardice. The price forced him to launch eighteen charges, until he died on the battlefield.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Anguy, write this in the letter. First, tell Qyburn, Little Silvertongue, and the Handsome Man to spread the battle reports across the Twin Cities as quickly as possible, along with the Dothraki's atrocities. The Dothraki treat people like livestock, using slaves and captives to fill their trenches. Second, strengthen the defenses of the Twin Cities and the Stepstones. Third, ready the elite forces of the Wolf Pack and the Free Company. Fourth, keep Tyrosh's reserves on standby," Gendry said.
The Red Viper sharply picked up on a gap. The fleets of the Stepstones and the Twin Cities had made no significant moves. Before the war, such a massive fleet had remained hidden. It seemed they had a more important task elsewhere.
"Yes, Your Grace." Anguy nodded. The ravens raised by Qyburn were finally proving their worth, perfectly suited for a war like this.
What the Dothraki were truly like didn't matter. What mattered was making the people of the Twin Cities understand that they were facing war, facing demons. The Dothraki would destroy cities, enslave the populace, and violate women. They were the embodiment of violence itself. Only through war could the people's passion and loyalty truly be ignited.
That was why, among all achievements, war stood above the rest. Only through victory could greater honor be won.
The Red Viper looked at Gendry. Though still young, he already handled war and politics with ease. Some people were simply born for it.
"Am I really getting old?" the Red Viper thought, touching his white hair. "And yet my grand plan for revenge rests on the shoulders of the young."
Doran had made him wait far too long. The Red Viper could not afford to wait any longer. If this war against Myr was won in a brilliant and decisive fashion, then Doran would understand that he had chosen the right path.
...
The Westerlands, Golden Tooth. This stronghold belonged to House Lefford. It controlled the main road that cut through the mountains from the Riverlands straight into the Westerlands.
Under normal circumstances, anyone seeking to invade the Westerlands would have to take Golden Tooth first.
Atop its walls, the lion banner of House Lannister flew higher than all the others. Around it were the banners of many Westerlands houses, House Banefort, House Westerling, House Crakehall, and more. The forest of banners spoke of the Westerlands' unity and preparedness, far surpassing that of the Riverlands.
"As far as I can tell, the lords that Trout sent are nothing but fools and idiots," said Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, standing atop the walls of Golden Tooth as he looked down at the Riverlands forces.
"House Tully, House Piper, and House Vance." Jaime identified the three banners at a glance. For a Westerosi noble, recognizing heraldry was essential, and Jaime was well trained in it.
House Piper's banner showed a pink maiden dancing with a length of white silk on a blue field. House Vance's was even easier to recognize, quartered: a black dragon on white, and on black, a pair of golden eyes within a golden ring, arranged diagonally. As for the trout banner, that belonged to House Tully, though Jaime knew they had also called upon their vassals.
"Yes, my lord. Ser Edmure has sent Lord Clement Piper and Lord Vance to garrison the pass below Golden Tooth, to prevent our forces from advancing east into the Riverlands."
From a strategic standpoint, this was a terrible deployment. But there was little choice. The Riverlands lacked natural defenses, leaving any advantageous terrain in the hands of their enemies.
"How many men do they have?"
Jaime gleamed in gold from head to toe. He had removed his lion helm, and at his waist hung the gilded sword that had slain the Mad King.
After escaping King's Landing, Jaime had returned to the Westerlands. Tywin had swiftly decided to split his forces. He would personally lead the main army, while the Kingslayer commanded a vanguard to hold Golden Tooth and threaten Riverrun. The mobilization had begun even before Jaime left King's Landing, and Golden Tooth had already gathered fifteen thousand men with ease.
"About four thousand," said Lord Leo Lefford of Golden Tooth with a dismissive tone.
"We hold the high ground, and they're camped at the pass below. That's a death trap," Jaime said confidently. Once the Golden Tooth forces attacked, they would strike downhill with overwhelming force, and their numbers would be nearly four times that of House Tully's troops.
"It seems the Old Trout is truly near death, and his son is a fool," the lord of Golden Tooth added. "The Vance and Piper men may be obedient, but they're clumsy when it comes to war."
"The Old Trout has been sickly for years."
"This Edmure is a complete fool, and the men he's sent are fools as well. That whole Trout household is full of idiots." The knights of the Westerlands burst into laughter. Riverrun had sent only four thousand men to hold such an awkward position. This was no mere probing tactic, it was practically a death sentence.
The Westerlands held the advantage not only in numbers, but also in leadership. Though Jaime the Kingslayer's reputation was infamous, his personal prowess ranked among the finest in Westeros, while the enemy had nothing comparable.
"I'll wait for my father's orders. When the time comes, I'll lead a charge down from Golden Tooth. I'll wipe out this Tully force and then move to encircle Riverrun," Jaime said with absolute confidence. He favored bold action, and his strength in battle meant he rarely needed to rely on elaborate strategy.
"Send out scouts. Keep a close watch."
"Yes, Lord Jaime."
"Keep an eye on the ravens as well. Not just those from Casterly Rock, but from King's Landing too."
Jaime was waiting for orders from Casterly Rock. He was certain he would soon take the field and teach the Riverlands a lesson they would never forget.
Beyond Casterly Rock, what concerned him more was King's Landing. Though he had left, Cersei and the children remained there, which still weighed on his mind.
Still, Eddard's nature, rigid to the point of foolishness, also meant he was unlikely to be particularly cruel or cunning. That offered Jaime some small measure of reassurance.
"What news of my brother?" Jaime asked his squire.
"Lord Tyrion is returning with his sellswords from another direction. He said he has a surprise for you."
"This is reckless," Jaime said uneasily.