Chapter Twelve: Growth.

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~~~~(Point of view: Azrael Sanchez)~~~~

~~~~(Date: 275 AC)~~~~

Getting up from the ground after falling from my horse, I watched as one of the wolves ran and tore apart the Dothraki that had managed to wound me, ending up with its limbs torn off and its body unrecognizable. 

Looking around, I managed to see that my Khalasar had the advantage, and, although he was outnumbered two to one, the increase in potions worked wonders. 

Still, I wanted to finish this fight quickly, especially because I did not want my new Khalasar to lose men, both mine and the one that the other Khal had brought me as a gift. 

So, realizing that the arrow had not hurt me, and had only caused me to fall off my horse thanks to the impact. I got back on my horse; besides, how had a damn arrow managed to make me fall off my horse? I wasn't riding as well as I thought I was. 

From the higher altitude, I could see that the fight was intensifying, and although I could not fully distinguish who were my men and who were not, I decided to see if I could find the Khal of the other Khalasar. 

I didn't have to look long, as I managed to spot a Dothraki more muscular than the others, with long hair from which hung several bells. 

So, making my horse run towards him, I sheathed my sword and, taking a trident from the menu, the new weapon appeared in my right hand, being seawater blue and with a handle nearly two meters long, with three large prongs protruding. 

The Khal, having sensed that I was approaching, turned his horse, ready to face me, only for me to throw the trident with all the force the potion could give me. 

The Khal, once he saw the weapon I had thrown at him, dove, only to be knocked off his horse. 

And the trident was not for the Khal, but for his mount, who now lay dead on the ground with the trident piercing his chest, with only the blunt end of the handle protruding from his body. 

The Khal, perhaps angered by the death of his steed, quickly rose from sleep and picked up his arakh, ready to face me. 

However, I was no Ned Stark, or any other character with queer honor who managed to get himself killed, for that matter, so commanding the wolves, I watched as they attacked the Khal, biting him on the arm with which he wielded his weapon or sometimes his legs. 

Once I knew it was safe to approach, I walked to where the wounded Khal was, and without thinking, I drew my sword and cut off his head. 

At that, I felt a slight pressure on my back, and with an unfamiliar instinct, I watched as a Dothraki raised his arakh ready to slit my throat. 

So in a superior show of speed, I raised my sword and parried the blow, only for the Dothraki to again attempt to cut me now with a feint strike. 

Willing that I had had enough, I did not hold back and began to go on the offensive, watching as the Dothraki lost more and more ground until he could no longer defend himself and ended up with a deep cut to his chest. 

Hearing screams and wails, I turned and watched as my wolves ended the lives of three other Dothraki, these and the one that attacked me being blood riders of the dead Khal. 

Taking the Khal's head, I climbed onto my horse and made it stand on its hind legs, I shouted for all to see, "Your Khal is dead!" as I raised the severed head for all to see. 

With that announcement, it was as if a switch had been turned off, drying up all screaming and sounds of steel clashing against steel. 

I had won my first battle against another Khalasar, won my first bell, something to be... Proud of? 

It was something hard to explain, but still, being surrounded by blood and death on all sides, I didn't feel bad, nor did I feel repulsed that I had killed some people. Sure, in my previous world, this would be defined as being a psychopath, someone who was unaffected by blood and death. 

But now, being here, where if I fell asleep, I could be carried away by the current like a simple shrimp, I knew that I had to detach myself from the social order in which I used to live, and the sooner I did it, the better. 

Seeing that the battle was now over, I took out more than a dozen chests full of health and regeneration potions, while at the same time ordering the Khalasar's women to give each wounded man two potions. 

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After several hours, which I spent checking that my orders were carried out and that all the warriors belonging to my now-greatest Khalasar were healed. 

I set about keeping a count of my Khalasar, and with the help of the women and children who could count, I was able to finish a census. 

And according to the count, I knew that now the Khalasar had about eleven thousand three hundred warriors, along with five thousand women, three thousand children, eight hundred elders, and seven thousand slaves. 

There were quite a few people—people who were now under my power and guidance. It was a euphoric experience to have the command of so many people who would do what you told them—something intoxicating and dangerous. 

After seeing that the situation had completely calmed down, I decided not to wait any longer and set off, although, after a general look, I saw that there were not enough horses and wagons to carry the pregnant women and children. 

After several minutes of thinking about it, I decided to summon more Minecraft villagers, especially because, from what I had in mind, the Dothraki would be of no help. 

So, opening the Minecraft menu, I focused on the generator part. 

Now, after having summoned Maicol I hadn't summoned any more villagers, not because I didn't want to, but because I hadn't had the time. 

Another thing was that I had not experimented well with the villager generator, so willing to stop that, I glimpsed the villager generator. 

Before, whether it was because of my lack of attention, I had not noticed that apart from the symbol of an egg, there was also a symbol on its upper right side, similar to a magnifying glass. 

So, feeding my curiosity, I mentally chose that option. Which changed the symbol of the villager generator to a type of scroll. 

Focusing on the scroll, it zoomed in, and what it showed pleasantly surprised me. 

The scroll showed all the types of villagers available in Minecraft, including farmers, fishermen, masons, and even archers. 

Not only that, but in front of each villager type was a quantity category, starting at x5, x10, x50, x100, and x1000. 

So, if I understood correctly, I could choose which types of villager to summon, along with the quantity I wanted. It was amazing. 

So, wasting no time, I chose the unemployed, masons, tool smiths, and furriers, choosing x100 quantity in each category. 

When I finished, in front of me now stood four hundred people, including men and women, with different characteristics and qualities. 

"Hail to our creator!" 

As if they were one and as if they had agreed, they all greeted me at the same time, while staring at me. 

"Hello, call me Khal! Welcome everyone, however; right now I need your help, so introductions will have to wait, as I need you to help me build at least two hundred large carriages that can hold at least fifty people each." 

I knew it would be a hard task, but with the capable hands of the villagers, along with the labor of the slaves, the two hundred carriages would be ready quickly. 

Now, I also understood that moving those carriages would require enormous strength, but I already had the perfect creature in my head for that. 

That is if I could get it to accept my orders and not eat my Khalasar.