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Chapter 268: Victory or Defeat Hangs in the Balance

The Targaryen army assembled outside their camp, banners bearing the three-headed dragon fluttering in the wind. Soldiers stood in neat ranks, their armor gleaming, shouting loud battle cries.

"Ha!"

"Ha!"

Meanwhile, the Dothraki began to emerge from their rudimentary encampment.

The Dothraki camp was extremely crude, without even wooden walls, just some animal skin tents and fire pits dug into the ground. Many Dothraki didn't even have a tent, sleeping under a simple straw mat.

This was bearable during the long summer, but now winter had come. Although Grafton wasn't as cold as other places, the temperature had dropped significantly.

This place was at a higher latitude than the warm Dothraki Sea.

Therefore, the common Dothraki were not comfortable. While they weren't freezing to death, many were getting sick from the cold. They could only try to move around more during the day and put on more clothes in hopes of staying warm.

However, they didn't expect the Targaryen army, which had been holed up in the castle, to suddenly issue a challenge. They lined up outside the city, looking ready for a decisive battle.

Many Dothraki, who had received the order from their Khal to assemble, were a bit confused.

"Have these lambs lost their minds?"

That was the only way they could understand it.

Then the Dothraki army assembled. For this barbaric race, their tactics were all about burning, killing, and looting. After all, few armies could withstand a Dothraki attack in the open field.

Usually, just one charge would cause the enemy's morale to collapse. Soldiers would flee in disarray, and then the Dothraki would mercilessly harvest their lives like cutting down leeks.

"Hmph."

"These audacious lambs."

The tall Khal Jhogo rode his high-headed horse at the front.

He seemed unafraid of the cold, his upper body bare, his body covered in dark tattoos. His deep eyes stared at the Targaryen army lined up outside the city.

Khal Jhogo was not a fool to become a leader. He knew the enemy was trying to lure him into an attack, perhaps with some plan in mind. However, Jhogo had full confidence in his people.

Every four or five years, he would raid Qohor. Although Qohor had once successfully resisted the Dothraki, that was over four hundred years ago. Now, when Jhogo's army arrived at Qohor, they would obediently offer up gold.

He knew the enemy had some plan, but Jhogo didn't care. He believed his khalasar could directly crush them!

Then Jhogo, sitting on his horse, drew his gilded arakh from his waist and gave the order to charge.

"Ohharat!"

The next second.

An endless sea of Dothraki let out a deafening roar, rushing towards the Targaryen army in the distance.

"Ohhh!"

Under the protection of the distant formation, the commander, clad in bright silver armor, held the reins with one hand. His posture on horseback was a bit strange.

His face was covered with a metal mask, his body covered in steel, with only a small gap between the mask and his neck where his skin could be seen.

It was a sight that made one's heart palpitate. His skin was charred and even rotten, like a ghoul walking out of a sea of fire, but his eyes were still bright.

Bessie Joyce looked at the imposing Dothraki in the distance, then raised his hand. His voice sounded somewhat weak, but his words were filled with determination.

"Raise shields, prepare for battle."

His adjutant stiffened, quickly passing down the order.

"Raise shields!"

"Raise shields!"

Commanders at the base level of the legion, clad in bright armor and riding on war horses, shouted loudly.

"Raise your shields, lads!"

"Ha!"

"Ha!"

In an instant, countless shields bearing the emblem of the three-headed dragon were raised, with long spears resting in the gaps between the shields.

The soldiers tightly gripped the shafts of their spears, their throats rolling slightly, their palms sweaty.

This formation of spears and shields was the most basic formation in the Targaryen army, mainly to counter the charge of cavalry units.

Bessie, leading the First Legion stationed here for over a year, had spent a lot of time practicing this formation in addition to building the castle.

Moreover, many of the over ten thousand soldiers he now led were Andal warriors who had participated in the Battle of Grafton on this land.

A spear and shield formation was quickly assembled, while the Dothraki, like a tide, were rushing in from the distance.

The thundering of countless horses made the ground beneath the Targaryen soldiers tremble.

An overwhelming momentum was pressing down on them.

"Is this the Dothraki?"

Many of the Targaryen soldiers who had never seen such a spectacle were already thinking of retreating.

This was the Dothraki's survival skill, scaring the enemy half to death before the battle even began, causing morale to plummet. After a slight impact, they would not be able to withstand the pressure and would scatter and flee.

This was also why Jon Connington desperately tried to stop Viserys from wanting to go out and fight the Dothraki.

If Viserys led an elite force, it would be fine, but the Pentos city guard, such a rotten fish and shrimp, would not be able to withstand such a momentum.

It was likely that there would be deserters before the battle even began, and the collapse of the battle line was often a snowballing disaster, likely affecting everyone and ultimately turning into a rout.

"Archers, steady!"

"Close ranks!"

Command after command came from Bessie's mouth, and the base-level commanders rode their horses in the rear, shouting loudly.

"There's nothing to be afraid of with these damned bastards."

In the spear and shield formation.

An old Targaryen soldier who had followed Viserys, spoke proudly to the new soldiers beside him who had never seen such a spectacle.

"I've personally killed three Dothraki."

"Really?"

The new soldier, listening to the approaching hoofbeats from the distance, looked a bit pale. Hearing the old soldier's words, his face looked a bit better.

Then he heard their general's voice.

"Archers!"

"Hurry up!"

Myles sat on his horse, his hand tightly gripping the reins, looking at the overwhelming Dothraki in the distance, feeling a bit of a chill.

However, he didn't show his fear on his face, because too many people were watching his expression.

Then Myles turned his head to look at his good friend.

Going out to fight was a very risky move, and Myles had privately tried to persuade Bessie to change his mind.

The two boys came from the same Andal village and were among the first to join Andalos.

However, their fates were different. Bessie, who had been calm and brave since childhood and was even chosen as a warrior's son by the village, joined Andalos and was selected to become Viserys's Kingsguard.

Later, he was sent out to lead troops, eventually becoming one of the most powerful people in the kingdom.

Myles, on the other hand, had been struggling in the army.

Fortunately, both boys had good fortunes. They survived through many trials and tribulations and achieved their own successes.

And now... victory or defeat hangs in the balance.

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