Chapter 217: The Grand Anti-Dothraki Alliance
In the town of Ghoyan Drohe, the black embroidered dragon banner fluttered, the Silver Dragon soaring as if ready to spew silver flames at any moment. Outside Ghoyan Drohe, the severed braids of the dead Dothraki Screamers were piled up like a small hill, slick and black, some still adorned with copper bells. The corpses of those poor horsemen were stacked in another direction. The Dragonlord had tested his mettle, killing Khal Drogo and about three thousand Screamers beneath the Black City, turning their black braids into a small mountain.
"The customs of the Dothraki are deeply ingrained and truly difficult to change."
Rhaegar considered that Khal Drogo's khalasar had been settled by him near the Upper Rhoyne, not far from Ghoyan Drohe. The main reason was that this group genuinely disliked living in cities, and Rhaegar couldn't force them. It was already good enough that this Silver Dragon Khalasar agreed to stay briefly in one place. For the Dothraki Screamers, farming was a painful task, but for the Dothraki women, herding and farming were much more acceptable, as they still needed to eat.
"Hang up my Silver Dragon banner properly. It won't be long before the visiting guests arrive!"
Rhaegar stood on the battlements of the Black City, full of confidence.
"Then we shall polish our eyes and wait to see how many gifts those wealthy magisters of the Free Cities are willing to present to us!"
Oberyn smiled. Extracting gold from the Free Cities was a very enjoyable affair, especially from Pentos, which everyone considered rich and weak.
There were still fugitives from Drogo's khalasar, and the news of Khal Drogo's destruction would spread throughout the continent of Essos, serving as a small lesson to the Dothraki khals. As for the khals uniting their armies to attack, Rhaegar wasn't afraid. If the people remained, the city remained; if the people were gone, what value did the city hold? People were the most important asset. As long as the fighting strength was preserved, they could return at any time. At worst, Rhaegar would flee, and Pentos might have to suffer, because although the khals dared not cross the sea—they hated the ocean—their ambition to thoroughly beat Pentos and extract profit from it was great.
"The five hundred Screamers who miraculously survived should be incorporated into Ghoyan Drohe's garrison. These five hundred Screamers form a respectable security force."
Rhaegar looked at the lingering Screamers who had survived the flames. Some might still bear ugly burn scars. The fire had made them loyal to the Dragonlord. They had to submit, to the King of Fire, to the master of dragons.
"As you command, Prince!"
Oberyn said. In front of Rhaegar, he naturally didn't display any arrogance, because Rhaegar seemed perfect in every aspect. Considering the greatest events of the Century of Blood—the destruction of ancient Valyria, the rise of the Dothraki khals, and the conquest and collapse of the Tiger Party in Volantis—Oberyn felt that Rhaegar was manipulating the world and changing the entire historical landscape.
"And the horses! There are indeed many fine horses on the Dothraki Sea. Even Khal Drogo, whose power wasn't particularly vast, had many good steeds. Now that we have defeated Khal Drogo, the soldiers will be able to acquire some excellent mounts! The lads are all very happy."
Ser Barristan also looked very pleased. Warhorses were quite valuable in Westeros, where horses were scarce and precious, serving as symbols of wealth and status. By extracting wealth from the Dothraki khals, the soldiers received fine horses as rewards. The Dornishmen and the royal guards accompanying them were all delighted, as Dothraki steeds were renowned.
"Why do the Dothraki grow so tall? This Dothraki Sea manages to sustain so many people. Is this Dothraki Sea truly so fertile and rich?"
Rhaegar asked Oberyn and Barristan.
"It has to do with the land and the climate. The Dothraki Sea isn't particularly dry; one could even call it humid and abundant. The grass in the Dothraki Sea is tall and thick, rolling like waves in the breeze. This is how it sustains the Dothraki people. Back when the Dothraki hadn't destroyed the Tall Men, the Kingdom of Sarnor, the kingdom of the Tall Men, was said to have had a population of over a million. The population sustained now is much smaller!"
Oberyn commented on the land and climate of the Dothraki Sea. It truly was a fertile region, but it had been ruined by the khals—that group of extreme destroyers masquerading as protectors of the grasslands.
"Exactly! It's because the Dothraki environment, climate, and land are relatively good. I heard that another nomadic tribe beyond the Bone Mountains, the Jogos Nhai, are very ugly, short and stout, with large heads, small faces, and sallow skin. That's because the Jogos Nhai Plains aren't as humid and fertile as the Dothraki Sea; it's dry there and the pasture is sparse."
Ser Barristan added.
"The Jogos Nhai once annihilated the armies of the God-Emperor of Yi Ti. Whether East or West, these barbarians and horsemen are always terrifying enemies."
Magister Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos arrived at Ghoyan Drohe first. The fat magister emerged from his purple velvet palanquin, still panting heavily. The litter was suspended by heavy leather straps between eight tall warhorses, protected on either side by four large, stout Unsullied guards, with more warriors following behind to manage the supply train. The fat man had sped along the road, which was a heavy burden for his physique. The news that Khal Drogo's Screamers had been almost completely wiped out struck Illyrio like a thunderbolt, filling him with fear.
At the gate of Ghoyan Drohe, five hundred Dothraki Screamers, clad in leather armor, roared as they swept past the Unsullied from Pentos. These roaring horsemen represented the immense light cavalry strength of the Dothraki. Magister Illyrio Mopatis's expression remained unchanged. As the leader of a city of several hundred thousand, he naturally possessed the necessary composure and demeanor.
Illyrio knew in his heart that this was Rhaegar's display of military might directed at him.
Following the arrogance of the Dothraki Screamers, three knights slowly rode out from the gate: the Black Knight Rhaegar, the Yellow Knight Oberyn, and the White Knight Barristan. Three men, three different styles, armors, and appearances.
"Standing before me are the peerless figures of Westeros! Prince Rhaegar, this is Prince Oberyn, and this White Knight must be Ser Barristan the Bold!"
Illyrio said with feigned exaggeration, starting with a round of compliments. In truth, he had reservations, but he kept them hidden for now.
"Please."
Rhaegar made a gesture, inviting Magister Illyrio Mopatis inside. Oberyn and Barristan also offered welcoming gestures.
"How truly magnificent!"
Magister Illyrio Mopatis exclaimed, observing the changes in Ghoyan Drohe. The town had begun to take on a new appearance. Previously, it had been desolate, dilapidated, and lifeless, inhabited only by poor natives and peasants. The Pentoshi plains originally had many towns, but sadly, they had all been ruined by the khals later on.
Military force was, after all, a form of truth in the world. Although Magister Illyrio Mopatis trusted gold, he understood this principle.
In the center of the Black City, Rhaegar had cleared a small, tidy square. Magister Illyrio Mopatis arrived there, where tables and chairs had already been set up.
"My young friend, Prince Rhaegar, you have caused me great trouble!"
Magister Illyrio Mopatis recalled the pile of braids outside the city stacked like a small hill, his face long and displeased. Illyrio's sparkling gem rings had now lost their luster.
The destruction of Khal Drogo sounded like a death knell. Although khals would not mourn the death of a comrade—they might even laugh and mock Khal Drogo for his clumsiness and failure—the feeling of shared danger meant that it was possible these khals might take drastic action, uniting to cross the river and raid.
"What is wrong, my fat friend? With my protection, Pentos is impregnable, so why do you worry?"
Rhaegar countered.
"A lesser khal is not terrifying; what is terrifying is a great khal, or even a union of many khals. Khal Balbo is currently the most powerful khal. He could summon a coalition of khals to attack this place. Seventy or eighty thousand Screamers—it's terrifying just to think about it! We could have solved this with gold originally!"
Magister Illyrio Mopatis said with a bitter expression.
He trusted the dragon, but he couldn't trust the dragon completely. If the dragon fled or was defeated, the one who would ultimately suffer would always be poor Pentos.
"It's simple. We just need to replicate the Battle of Qohor. If these khals dare to provoke me, I don't mind slaughtering them until not a single man remains. Horsemen fear danger but hold no gratitude."
Rhaegar replied emphatically.
"My fat friend, there's no need to worry. I am already notorious among the Dothraki; I hear many call me the Khal Slayer. I don't mind killing the most powerful khal. My dragons are still hungry and greedy!"
Rhaegar reassured Magister Illyrio Mopatis.
Illyrio dared not say anything more.
The man before him was a harbinger of death, having killed his way from Westeros to Essos. The last person like this had been Daemon Targaryen, and this man was an even more terrifying version. Illyrio seemed vaguely to sense Rhaegar's killing intent and unpredictable power, as if he were being stared at by the eyes of the Silver Dragon itself.
Many rumors claimed that this true dragon studied dark arts and was a master of blood and fire magic, having sacrificed his soul to earn the rewards of triumph and lasting victory. He used to scoff at such talk, but now he had to believe it.
"My young friend, we have prepared gifts for you and your subordinates!"
Magister Illyrio Mopatis first specified the bribes: gold and jewels. Drogo was dead, and it was best that his share now belonged to Rhaegar.
But Illyrio had another idea in mind.
"Is there a possibility—if we severely defeat the main force of the khals all at once—that these khals will temporarily lose their ambition, allowing us to reopen the overland trade routes? This time, Prince, you only eliminated one khal, which might make the khals feel even more fearful!"
Illyrio looked at Rhaegar and voiced his terrifying plan.
The people of the Free Cities feared, dreaded, or appeased the Dothraki khals, but compared to the Dragonlord, the khals seemed beatable.
There is only one disease in the world: the disease of poverty.
Before, they worried about the endless stream of horsemen, like locusts, but if the dragons joined the fight and severely crushed the khals' forces, the trade routes might be reopened. This immense possibility of profit led the radical merchant faction to decide to try.
"My fat friend, you truly surprise me!"
Rhaegar looked at Illyrio, amazed that a cheese merchant and trader now possessed such immense courage and ambition.
"My young friend, you don't need to mock me. Do you know how massive the profit is from opening the overland routes? Since the destruction of the Tall Men, these trade routes have been controlled by the Dothraki, and they despise trade. In the past, when the Tall Men still existed, the prosperity of Qohor and Pentos could have been three, even five times greater than it is now.
We are weary of war and prefer to fight with gold. But when it concerns trade routes and profit, we will also consider the possibility of war: crushing or hurting the Dothraki to reopen the overland trade routes.
Previously, it was difficult for the entire Free Cities to muster the ability to severely defeat the Dothraki, but in you, my young friend, I have found hope."
Magister Illyrio Mopatis's eyes gleamed with ambition.
Merchants value profit above all else. These horsemen prevented them from making more money, and now, with the rise of the Dragonlord, the ambitious merchants of Pentos were calling for massive bribes and sponsorship in exchange for reopening the trade routes.
"I intended to do this anyway. Let us cooperate happily!"
Rhaegar's smile was like a clear, bright blade.
While Magister Illyrio Mopatis was staying in Ghoyan Drohe, secret envoys from Qohor, Volantis, and Norvos also arrived, and even an envoy from the last remnants of the Tall Men traveled far and wide to reach this place.
These Free Cities had all been exploited by the khals, and they longed for the return of the overland trade routes to make them wealthier.
The Dothraki were indeed universally disliked.
An alliance.
A secret grand alliance against the Dothraki.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 40+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics