The Dothraki Slayer I

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POV of Tybero third moon 285 AC

How the hell did I end up here? I fell from grace for refusing to join a group of incompetents whom their parents believed were ready to be the future leaders of Myr. Demoted from my position as one of the advisors and officers of the general, I am now just an interpreter for a group of mercenaries and to coordinate a defense against the Dothraki. A punishment for an unruly officer with a high probability of dying in service, yet I cannot escape, as betrayal is severely punished and they could go after my family.

My death was inevitable; only a matter of time, as so far the mercenaries who have arrived are far from impressive. Newly formed companies or those with little experience, enticed by the astronomical payment offered for such madness. The city leaders hope that if we manage to cause the defeat of some large khalasar, it might deter other khals from seeking gifts from the city and avoid paying exorbitant fees to the Dothraki.

So far, we have achieved nothing more than preventing small groups of Dothraki or very young khalasars from raiding the farmlands. But when it comes time to fight against a great khal, well, we just have to remember that this plan has failed three times already, with thousands of mercenaries dead and all the people sent by the city dead.

When I obtained authorization to travel to the city and visit my family, I encountered something very interesting. A mercenary company had arrived in Myr, and it was incredibly numerous, perhaps even more so than the Golden Company. According to rumors, they were people from Westeros who had already proven themselves in combat in Essos, having served previously in Tyrosh.

Everything I heard about what they did indicated that they were an unscrupulous mercenary company; they practically devastated Lys in some areas and even looted an important city, deceiving the general of Lys. We were aware of their arrival, but we didn't give it much importance; if Tyrosh had sent them to us, that chaos would have befallen us.

For mercenaries, their cavalry maintains considerable uniformity, especially in their armor, which seems quite expensive. But the infantry had many problems, as many seemed almost like children and carried a bit of everything, possibly looted from the dead.

With this, Myr could try to win the war. We had several of the most famous mercenary companies, and now this one had arrived that seemed quite competent, but only time will tell. It's a pity that I won't be there if the conflict ends soon.

When my time with my family was ending, and I had to return to my post, the mercenary companies that would throw themselves against the Dothraki must have finally gathered. When I was leaving my home, I encountered three men waiting for me, dressed in a black uniform with white ornaments and a hat adorned with a metal skull.

Seeing me, one of them pointed at me, and another turned to look at me. I was a little scared when I saw the face of that man. He had part of his face burned, missing part of his lips, allowing his teeth to be visible, and his face was full of scars.

"Are you Tybero?" the man with the deformed face asked in High Valyrian.

"Yes... it's me," I said a little scared.

"Follow us," the man replied, pointing the way.

"I have to return to my post, so I can't," I replied, trying to free myself from them. But I felt his hand pressing firmly to prevent me from escaping.

"I didn't ask; I ordered. Follow us," said the man, throwing me to his companions who grabbed my arms and started pushing me.

We walked through the streets of the city until we started approaching one of the city exits, where we finally turned into a street that was full of mercenaries dressed in the same black uniform.

They quickly made me enter a tavern where many knights in their armor predominated, which I recognized as the new mercenaries who had arrived in the city. The men continued to escort me to a chair in front of two people: a knight who was incredibly tall and had a stern look, and another who wore wolf skins and looked at me with curiosity.

The knight pointed to the chair, and the men who had escorted me forced me to sit in the chair. The man with the wolf skin raised three fingers, showing them to the tavern keeper.

There was an awkward silence between us while there was a festive atmosphere among the other mercenaries who were drinking and laughing. The staring competition ended when the tavern keeper placed large beer jugs in front of us.

"Tybero, I understand that you were assigned as a coordinator and interpreter to fight against the Dothraki. We asked Myr's magisters about both mercenary contracts, and we were not interested in the original contract, but regarding fighting the Dothraki, it caught our attention, didn't it?" said the knight, looking at his companion in High Valyrian.

"That's what they said in our negotiation, but they didn't want to give us much information about how the chain of command would be. They were very ambiguous, as if they truly knew nothing about what happens there, as if there were no control. They told us that if we waited a few days, you would come to give us explanations. But we thought that time could be used to prepare a speech of promises, so we preferred to ask you personally. I hope our guys haven't been too hard on you," said the masked man also in High Valyrian.

'Mercenaries from Westeros who speak High Valyrian?'

"Eh... well, what do you want to know?" I said very nervously. The knight drank his beer in one gulp and looked at me again.

"What can we expect? How bad is the situation that they are trying to deceive us?" said the knight, wiping his mouth and taking another jug that belonged to his companion.

"Well, the situation is stable, and..." I tried to say.

"You're lying. We don't want lies, or we'll have to get serious," the masked man interrupted.

"I'm not lying..." I tried to speak again.

"Now you give excuses, you're nervous, avoiding eye contact, there are constant changes in your tone of voice, clear signs that you're lying... Now speak the truth, or I'll have to visit your family," said the masked man with a less friendly tone this time.

I sighed in defeat.

"Now I'll have problems with the council. If these mercenaries considered fighting against the Dothraki, they're leaving due to the terrible conditions."

"The situation is bad. We have to recruit around forty thousand mercenaries, and we're barely halfway there, as we must be vigilant for the Dothraki incursions that should start in the next two months and, subsequently, the visits of the largest khalasars that usually arrive at the end of the year to receive the city's gift," I said, looking at the jug in front of me.

"About the chain of command, who commands that group?" asked the masked man.

"Nobody... The plan has so little chance of success that nobody wanted to risk being the leader of a plan that was stillborn. That's why we simply let the mercenary captains coordinate what they should do. So, as you might think, with mercenaries organizing everything, it's total chaos because everyone fights over who is the 'leader' of all, but it only generates more and more fights among those mercenaries," I continued speaking, and I noticed how they started talking among themselves in their strange language, which was not the common tongue of Westeros.

"What can we expect from those mercenaries? Do they have experience, good equipment, or decent leaders?" asked the knight.

"Fairly new mercenary companies, almost without any merit deserving the payment they receive, only for the risk of fighting against the Dothraki. And the other companies are not famous, just run-of-the-mill. None of the famous companies have joined, as it is known that every time the city of Myr tried to face the khalasars, it ended very badly," I said, looking at the duo from Westeros.

"How did you end up there? You said it yourself, no one wants to be responsible for the defeat, and there you are, being the interpreter for everything... Aren't you afraid that, if everything fails, you'll be blamed for it?" said the masked man.

"I fell from grace. Powerful families wanted their children to rise quickly in the army so they could vie for the general's position. I refused because those kids had no experience; they only had the shiny armor their parents bought them, and they already wanted to be veteran advisers to the general. Well, those families were very powerful, and they took me out of my trusted position and sent me to a place for officers who don't know their place... to die, obviously, either by the Dothraki or as punishment for failure," I replied, quite angry.

Again, they started talking among themselves in their strange language.

"If you are going to reject Myr's request, at least don't say it was my fault. That would take days off my life, and I want to spend at least that time with my family before they execute me," I said with a pleading tone.

"Reject?... I liked the idea of having independent command. What I truly want is to be able to use tactics that work against the horse lords. And if there's an officer in charge who will try to prevent my tactics, that would be what truly scares me about the deal... But if I can 'convince' those captains, I can lead the battle as I like and have new victories against steppe nomads," said the knight.

"Victories? No one has defeated the Dothraki. They have defeated everyone who has faced them," I said incredulously.

"For now, I have plenty of experience fighting against that type of army, steppe nomads. I've defeated them several times, and I know what is necessary to achieve victory. So, that autonomy is perfect for me. So, we'll accept the deal and join," said the knight, drinking the jug again in one gulp and leaving the tavern.

The masked man observed me.

"Be careful with him. Lothar von Ruppin has more than ten years fighting against a culture similar to the Dothraki, and his record is impeccable. He only lost two battles and won more than fifty. So, we expect a great victory if Lothar achieves his goal," said the man with the wolf's head.

This mysterious man took something from his clothes and threw a bag of coins to the tavern keeper, who began to smile as he took out the silver coins.

"I have a formal request for you... I need to learn the Dothraki language. I've looked for some books, but it's so basic that I don't think I can have a normal conversation with a khalasar, and for my profession, it's necessary to understand the language of my... guests to be able to... understand their needs," said the man with the mask with a disturbing tone of voice.

"Sure, I don't think it will be a problem... he... he," I said, laughing nervously.

"All right, you can go... we'll follow in your footsteps tomorrow. Lothar must already be accepting the contract, and we'll use the gold to get supplies and equipment, as well as some slaves in good shape to be trained," said the man with the wolf's head, leaving.

I was left alone and drank the beer... it was very strong and thick for my taste.

'How the hell did he drink it in one gulp?'

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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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