Chapter 402: Reclaiming the Giants

Viserys dismounted from his horse.

Clank—

The sound of his sword chain echoed. He wasn't wearing armor, but like the Dothraki warriors around him, he was simply wearing a thick fur cloak.

The Dothraki were extremely averse to wearing armor, but the North was too damn cold. The Dothraki, who had never experienced such a climate, were freezing, their faces pale and even shivering as they walked.

Fortunately, Jon Connington had foresight. As the former Hand of the King, he was very familiar with the conditions of the North.

When the royal army planned to attack the North, they had stockpiled a large amount of fur and cotton to prepare winter clothes for the soldiers going to quell the rebellion in the North.

Unfortunately, the royalist army was defeated before they even reached the North, and these stockpiled supplies became useless. They were probably looted by the Lannister army when King's Landing was breached.

Now that winter had come, the North was inevitably a hell of ice and snow.

As the Hand of the King, Jon Connington demanded that the Dothraki wear fur and armor, but he encountered strong opposition from Khal Qhogo, who claimed that this would destroy the traditions of the Dothraki, and even wanted to complain to his own Khal.

However, Jon didn't argue with Qhogo. He had anticipated this outcome.

The Dothraki refused, but he still took the time to prepare plenty of fur and asked tailors and craftsmen to make them into fur cloaks. The boiled leather armor lined the inside, and metal plates were equipped at some key parts for protection, making it an enhanced version of scale armor.

Then these warming fur armors were brought to White Harbor by ship.

Viserys knew about this, but he didn't ignore the traditions of the Dothraki and force the warriors of Khalasar to wear armor.

However, less than half a day later, Qhogo, representing his fellow Dothraki, came to the Khal himself, cautiously asking if they could wear something warmer.

The Dothraki were barbaric but not made of steel. They lived in the warm Great Grass Sea all year round. How could they have experienced such a freezing climate?

Therefore, these Dothraki warriors voluntarily put on the fur armor that Jon Connington had customized for them, and they treasured it so much that they didn't want to take it off even when they slept.

The Dothraki experienced the benefits of armor for the first time.

The cold wind of the Riverlands was biting, and although it wasn't snowing, the perceived temperature was very low.

Viserys was dressed in black, with a metal dragon head badge on his chest, a black and red cloak, a gray-white wolf skin cloak on his shoulders, the fine fur fluttering slightly in the wind, a long sword hanging at his waist, and a Valyrian steel dagger on the other side.

The Giant King, Mag, was ready, raising his huge head to look at the little guy in front of him.

And Viserys, standing in front of the giant, was equally fearless. His light purple eyes were very calm. He had seen the Night King, let alone a giant.

Then he smiled slightly and nodded.

"Come on."

Viserys spoke in the Old Tongue.

As soon as his words came out, the giant Mag was slightly stunned, seemingly not expecting that he had mastered the Old Tongue in just a few days.

But he didn't think too much about it. Now was the key opportunity for him to escape, and he roared and rushed up.

"Roar—"

The Giant King was four meters tall, almost two and a half times taller than Viserys. His huge size brought a very strong oppressive feeling.

But Viserys, who had been with the tens of meters long Balerion for years, didn't feel uncomfortable facing the giant.

Hoo~ Mag threw a punch, but it was cleverly dodged by Viserys. The punch hit the ground and stirred up dust.

"Large size, but not slow at all." Viserys was slightly surprised.

And the surrounding Dothraki formed a huge circle.

They saw their Khal face the giant without fear, and immediately raised their arakhs and cheered.

And the Giant King Mag was angry, a change from his silent and taciturn character just a short while ago. He pounded his chest in anger, and then pounced on the slippery little guy again.

However, the silver-haired youth was very agile, almost as if he was playing with the big guy in front of him, and once again dodged.

The cheers of the Dothraki became even more enthusiastic, and the wildling translator and the female giant, Gentle Wun, were almost dumbfounded. They had never imagined that Mag would be played around by a weak human one day.

The Giant King tried desperately to catch the opponent but was in vain. Then Viserys didn't draw his sword but pulled out the Valyrian steel dagger from his waist, and with a roll, he stabbed it into his knee.

Mag let out a deafening roar, knelt down on one knee, but then fiercely opened his arms and hugged Viserys.

However, he was once again dodged by the silver-haired youth with a roll on the spot, and then the dagger was once again stabbed into his lower back.

The giant's blood spilled all over the ground, and the Dothraki, seeing their Khal gaining the upper hand, killing this big guy, their howls became even more fanatical.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him!"

"Cut off his head! Skin his scalp!"

They were looking forward to a more bloody scene, to see their Khal personally hunt down a giant wildling, to show his bravery.

However, unfortunately, Viserys stepped on the shoulder of the giant Mag, and the sharp dragon steel dagger was already at the back of his neck.

With a little effort, he could kill the giant in front of him, but his hand stopped in the heavy and hurried breathing of Mag.

"You lost, Mag."

The silver-haired youth spoke to the Giant King in the Old Tongue.

Thud—

Then Viserys put the dagger back into the sheath and jumped down from Mag's shoulder.

This giant was too tall, so much so that even when he was kneeling, Viserys couldn't reach his throat.

And Mag, seeing that Viserys didn't kill him, his heavy breathing relaxed a bit. Viserys jumped off him, and he clenched his fist as if he wanted to take this opportunity to punch the person in front of him.

However... in the end, Mag let go of his fist.

"I lost, human."

Mag, with blood flowing from his body, his voice low like a muffled thunder, then shakily stood up from the ground.

But he didn't stand firm and once again knelt on one knee, slightly lowering his head to Viserys, indicating submission.

In the year 283 AC.

The mighty Dothraki army arrived at the battlefield, allowing the allied soldiers to see the terrifying barbarian tribe for the first time.

And the White Walkers, after resting for a while, once again emerged from the Neck.