Chapter 357: The Battle to Defend the City

Outside Meereen, hundreds of Yunkai'i soldiers stared at the blood-red eye that had appeared in the western sky, then vanished beyond the eastern horizon.

The sky had returned to normal, the blazing sun shining down as it always did, yet its light could not banish the icy dread lingering in their hearts.

That terrifying, apocalyptic gaze had silenced the entire battlefield.

"The Gods of Ghis are watching us!" someone shouted.

More voices joined in, their cries rising in intensity.

The battlefield, momentarily paused, came roaring back to life—but the soldiers no longer focused on the city before them.

The horrific vision haunted their minds, filling them with fear, trembling, and unease. These emotions eventually gave way to fervent zeal.

Countless soldiers threw down their weapons, dropping to their knees to worship the sky, offering loud prayers to their gods.

Confusion in the Command

On a hill overlooking the battlefield, the 24 Wise Masters of Yunkai exchanged uneasy glances, uncertainty etched into their expressions.

All eyes eventually turned to the supreme commander of their forces: Grand Marshal Grazdan zo Erraz.

Grazdan shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. The terror from witnessing the blood-red eye had made him wet himself, and now the damp fabric clung unpleasantly to his skin.

"Perhaps... we should consider retreating?" he ventured tentatively, the lingering dread gnawing at his courage.

Most of the Wise Masters nodded in agreement.

But one voice rang out:

"Retreat? Now?"

Grazdan frowned instinctively. When he saw that the speaker was the tattered prince, leader of the Windblown mercenary company, he forced himself to respond politely:

"The soldiers are frightened. If we press the attack now—"

"Why should Ghiscari fear their own gods?" the tattered prince interrupted. "It's the foreigners who should be trembling."

Grazdan hesitated, considering the words.

A Wise Master asked skeptically, "How do you know that... thing... was a Ghiscari god?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the tattered prince replied matter-of-factly. "This is Slaver's Bay—the domain of the Ghiscari gods. Seeing foreign invaders here, especially those with dragons, the gods naturally manifested their wrath. For all we know, the dragons in the city may already have been destroyed by that red light."

"Exactly! Divine punishment from the Ghiscari gods!" Grazdan exclaimed, seizing the opportunity to rally the council.

Though he himself wasn't entirely sure what they had witnessed, it was enough to sway the soldiers.

"The gods are protecting us!" Grazdan declared. "It's time to exact vengeance on the Valyrians! Order the troops to launch an all-out attack!"

"At once!"

The tattered prince finally exhaled in relief. He had been genuinely worried the Yunkai'i would retreat.

Though he cared little for Meereen itself, as a mercenary leader, he had invested heavily in this campaign, planting spies within the city and bribing key nobles. If the Yunkai'i abandoned their siege, all his investments would go to waste.

Mercenaries had no honor, but they valued profit above all else.

The orders spread quickly through the ranks.

As Grazdan and the tattered prince anticipated, the soldiers' morale surged. Reassured by the gods' protection, the Ghiscari soldiers were consumed by a zealous fervor.

They roared with vengeful determination, storming toward Meereen's towering walls, intent on avenging their ancestors' ancient defeat with the blood of dragons.

The battlefield turned into a maelstrom of chaos and bloodshed.

Yunkai'i soldiers swarmed the walls like ants, arrows and spears darkened the skies, and scimitars and war hammers gleamed menacingly in the sunlight.

The clamor of war was deafening, mingled with the anguished cries of the wounded.

Amidst the cacophony, banners of all colors waved in the scorching wind, though none were as vivid as the ever-flowing rivers of blood.

Six massive trebuchets loomed in a crescent formation, bombarding Meereen's eastern walls. But they weren't launching stones—they were hurling corpses.

Thud!

A rotting body slammed into a watchtower, its putrid remains splattering like a grotesque rain.

Fragments of flesh and bone landed near Ser Jorah Mormont's feet, forming a sticky, gory mess.

"We must stop them!" cried Skahaz mo Kandaq, known as the "Shavepate."

Once a minor Ghiscari noble, Skahaz had pledged loyalty to Daenerys early on, even shaving off his distinctive Ghiscari hairstyle to prove his commitment.

Now, as commander of the Beast Men, Skahaz pointed to the rotting remains and pleaded, "These corpses will bring blood plague! The army's morale will collapse! Unlike the Unsullied, my men still fear death and disease. If this continues, they'll flee!"

"The Unsullied do not run," Grey Worm replied coldly.

Because the Unsullied have no brains! Skahaz scowled internally, though he dared not voice his frustration aloud.

The Unsullied of Meereen only obey the queen's orders and are inflexible, so reasoning with then is futile.

As more rotting bodies sailed through the air, a massive shadow suddenly swept across the battlefield.

"A dragon!"

Someone shouted, and heads turned skyward.

Flames engulfed a corpse mid-flight, while another was swatted aside by a massive white wing, crashing into a group of Yunkai'i cavalry.

"It's Caesar's white dragon!" Cheers erupted from Meereen's defenders.

Cleopatra descended upon the trebuchets, unleashing torrents of fire. One by one, the wooden siege engines burst into flames, their operators scattering in panic.

Skahaz felt his spirits lift as he watched the inferno consume the enemy's war machines. Victory was in the air.

Behind him, the heavy clatter of boots announced the arrival of Ser Jorah Mormont. Clad in armor and armed with a sword, Jorah shouted, "By order of the queen, the Beast Men will continue guarding the gates. The Unsullied will join me in a counterattack!"

Grey Worm saluted sharply.

Once the Unsullied had assembled in the shadow of the city's iron gates, Jorah turned to the small band of Dothraki riders under his command.

"When we charge, stay close to me! Aim for their nobles, but don't throw yourselves blindly into the Yunkai'i ranks."

The Dothraki nodded, their murmured affirmations chaotic but eager.

"May the gods watch over us," Jorah muttered before shouting, "Charge!"

Boom!

The third trebuchet was reduced to ash under Cleopatra's fire.

Samwell guided the white dragon in a relentless assault, spreading terror through the Yunkai'i ranks.

After failing to find Viserion, he did not get entangled with the Iron Fleet, but returned to Meereen to help defend the city.

Arrow volleys and spear throws failed to pierce Cleopatra's impenetrable scales.

The Yunkai'i had underestimated the dragons, thinking they would face only Daenerys's smaller creatures, not a full-grown beast like Cleopatra.

Without large siege weapons like scorpions, the Yunkai'i stood no chance against the white dragon.

Wherever Cleopatra flew, Yunkai'i soldiers scattered in panic, their morale crumbling with every fiery pass.

By the time the final trebuchet was reduced to rubble, the city gates opened.

A squad of Dothraki riders, led by a knight in gleaming armor, charged out with a ferocity that belied their small numbers.

Though their forces were few, they exuded an aura of unstoppable might.

The Yunkai'i retreated in disarray, paying no heed to the Unsullied who calmly marched out to form their disciplined ranks.

As Samwell watched from above, he knew the battle's outcome was decided.

(End of Chapter)