Chapter 108: The Dothraki

"Hmm?"

"What's happening?"

Viserys's heart tightened slightly as he observed the scene. He quickly dismounted and hurried to the side of the soldier who had been shot with arrows.

Sir Evan, beside him, also dismounted and rushed over, calling for the medics.

"Where are they?"

"Someone come quickly!"

It wasn't long before an army medic, skilled in herbal remedies, rushed over with his medicine box, treating the injured soldier's wounds.

The soldiers who were searching the abandoned city-state nearby noticed the commotion, whispering among themselves before the disturbance subsided. It was a miracle for anyone in the army to be unharmed.

However, they didn't know who had attacked them...

Viserys, dressed in casual attire, crouched in front of the injured soldier. His black cloak trailed on the ground, covered in wild grass.

"How is the situation?"

He was helping the medic cautiously remove the arrowhead from the soldier's bloody wound. As the arrowhead was extracted, fresh blood gushed out.

Viserys quickly blocked the wound with his hand, preventing too much blood loss.

"Bring it here!"

At that moment, another soldier brought over some wine.

Sir Evan, who had been anxiously standing beside Viserys, eagerly took the wine and helped the medic clean the soldier's wound.

Viserys was replaced by the enthusiastic Sir Evan and withdrew his bloodied hands. He washed them in a basin of water, cleaning off the bloodstains.

The injured soldier's mind cleared instantly due to the strong, stinging effects of the alcohol.

"Hiss..."

Pain caused the muscles in his face to twitch, cold sweat sliding down his forehead. But then he saw Viserys crouching in front of him, struggling to sit up while speaking.

"Your Majesty, we're in trouble!"

"We were ambushed by Dothraki..."

The Rhoynar soldier was part of a scout team sent out by Viserys. They had continued their reconnaissance after leaving the ruined city of Ghoyan Drohe.

They arrived at the Trident River, where the Upper Rhoyne and the Little Rhoyne converged, and encountered a group of Dothraki assailants.

A fierce battle ensued, and the outnumbered scout team killed two Dothraki while losing three of their own. Only the wounded Rhoynar soldier managed to escape on horseback.

The arrows lodged in him were shot by Dothraki archers during the chase.

However, the Dothraki halted their pursuit as they approached Ghoyan Drohe and discovered the amassed Andalosian army. They dared not continue their pursuit and fled.

...

"Dothraki?"

Viserys first pressed down on the injured Rhoynar scout to make him stay still and focus on healing his wounds.

Then he furrowed his brows, not expecting to encounter Dothraki here.

Their current location was far from the Dothraki Sea. Though the nomadic Dothraki often ventured west to plunder wealth from the Free Cities, it was rare for them to penetrate so far inland.

Viserys pondered for a moment before asking, "Did you get a clear look at their sigils?"

The Dothraki had no concept of nation-states, only tribes called Khalasars. The best way to differentiate these Khalasars was to know the names of their Khals.

However, if one is not a Dothraki, it is challenging to distinguish which Khalasar they belong to at first glance. One can only identify them through the totems or painted animal skin vests worn by the Dothraki warriors.

Unfortunately, the scout had always lived in his hometown and was seeing these people from the Dothraki Sea for the first time, unable to discern the differences between them.

"Your Grace, when a Dothraki Khalasar is on the move, there are always scouts patrolling ahead," someone said.

"They are responsible for keeping an eye on various prey and enemy tracks."

At that moment, a familiar voice sounded from behind Viserys.

As Viserys was lost in thought about the Dothraki, Oberyn had approached from somewhere. His arm was draped around his lover, Ellaria Sand, the bastard daughter of Lord Harmen Uller of Hellholt.

"In a Dothraki tribe, the warriors walk in the front, guarding the flanks, while the elderly, women, and children follow at the rear of the Khalasar," Oberyn, dressed in intricate black attire with gold thread patterns, continued.

"Your Grace..."

The exotic and sensuous woman embraced Oberyn's arm, her eyes seemingly full of allure. She looked at Viserys and then slightly bowed, greeting him.

"Oberyn?"

Viserys, hearing the voice, looked up and then stood, asking, "What do you mean?"

The tall man, holding his lover, gazed at Viserys, his dark eyes like those of a venomous snake.

"I think... we might have encountered a Dothraki Khalasar."

"If they have sufficient strength and confidence, they may attack us. If they lack strength, they will—"

However, as Oberyn was speaking, a faint, deep rumble suddenly echoed from the distant ruins outside the city of Ghoyan Drohe.

"Hmm?"

At the same time, Viserys, Oberyn, and the surrounding soldiers all sensed the trembling of the earth.

Simultaneously.

"Your Grace!"

Thud, thud, thud...

Several mounted soldiers returned from the distance, dismounting their horses, panting. They were scouts sent out earlier, now back to report urgent military intelligence.

But now... they didn't need to say anything.

"If you're going to say the Dothraki have arrived, don't bother."

Viserys muttered a curse under his breath, exchanging glances with Oberyn.

They did not know which Khalasar they were facing, but one thing was certain... the newcomers meant ill.

"These Dothraki—"

Viserys clenched his fist, ordering the entire army to be on guard, to tighten their formation on the spot, and to prepare for battle.

"Do they really have the audacity to think they can defeat us?"

His attendants brought out the young king's armor, helping Viserys don it on the spot.

But aside from the Dothraki, no one could answer Viserys' question.