Chapter 113: Challenge

Not long after,

Toot—

The horn for retreat was finally blown, and the countless Dothraki warriors, who had been fighting to exhaustion on the front lines, finally let out a sigh of relief. Then, like the receding tide, they slowly withdrew from Ghis Dohe, the sturdy fortress.

Dothraki command was very simple, roughly simple enough for everyone to hear the Khal's orders.

Charge or retreat.

And failing to take down the enemy in one wave was a relatively rare situation for the Dothraki.

The free trade city-states surrounding the Dothraki Sea seldom engaged in active combat outside their cities.

They holed up within their walls, and their soldiers had long lost the courage to fight the Dothraki in the open.

They would only use money to send away these westward pillaging horse lords, as in their view, problems that can be solved with money are no problems at all.

And indeed, the Khals who had accepted the "gifts" wouldn't return for a short time, but how long that time was depended on the greed of each Khal.

After Khal Drogo united his father's old forces, he successively defeated two weaker Khalasars in the Great Grass Sea, killing their Khals and expanding the size of his tribe.

This was why the Dothraki were the most brave and skilled warriors, as they were constantly fighting. Only through fighting and killing could they grow stronger.

This time, Khal Drogo led his Khalasar westward, preparing to harvest some Rhoynish villages, capture some slaves for their own use or sell them to Slaver's Bay in exchange for food and weapons.

However, Khal Drogo led his Khalasar along the Qhoyne River to the abandoned city of Nysar, which was once the capital of the Rhoynar. Here, they harvested a wave of villages and towns.

They continued along the Rhoyne River to the upper reaches of the river, only to find that the place had long been deserted and completely swept clean.

All the Rhoynish people had left their homes, heading in the direction of Andalos. Viserys had provided them with shelter and a series of preferential policies, just in time to avoid Khal Drogo's sweep.

The horse lord, who had gained little, naturally couldn't bring himself to give up. So, he continued to track down these villages and eventually cornered the culprits in the ruined city of Ghis Dohe on the banks of the Trident.

It was these people who dared to pull teeth from his tiger's mouth.

So, without a second word, Khal Drogo led his Khalasar to attack, demanding the blood of these lambs to extinguish his anger.

However, he initially thought that these soldiers would be as rotten as the other free trade city-states' defenders, with little fighting power. But to his surprise, after several near collapses, they finally held on to the end.

Seeing that the heavy losses from the fierce attack were becoming too much, Drogo had no choice but to order his men to sound the retreat horn.

...

Dothraki warfare was very simple. The stitched animal hide tent was the Khal's dwelling, with lamps lit inside. The rest of the tribe would dig holes in the ground and use grass mats as roofs for resting.

Boiling horse meat in the pot emitted an unpleasant smell. These were the deceased horses, and the Dothraki did not shy away from eating horse meat and drinking fermented mare's milk.

Inside the Khal's animal hide tent, there were black sausages, blood pies, and beet soup, with the aroma wafting out.

Thump, thump, thump—

At that moment, a series of hurried footsteps approached from outside. Then, a man lifted the curtain and entered. He was the leader of a Khalasars.

Shortly after, a chaotic commotion erupted within the tent.

It turned out that he was questioning Drogo about why he suddenly ordered a retreat when it seemed that the "lambs" on the opposite side were on the verge of collapse.

However, several bloodriders standing behind Drogo heard the challenger's insolent words and drew their arakhs from their waists.

For the first time, anger appeared on Drogo's usually indifferent face, and he stood up from behind the table inside the tent.

Whether victorious or defeated, no one could question the Khal's authority and orders. Otherwise, it would be considered a challenge to the Khal's position, an attempt to become the Khal themselves.

This was the rule of the Dothraki people.

Moreover, Drogo had only suffered a slight setback and hadn't been defeated, yet someone was already eager to challenge him.

Naturally angered by the challenge, Drogo's dark eyes filled with a clear murderous intent.

The challenger's face showed signs of unease. He indeed wanted to challenge the Khal, but he was also somewhat apprehensive facing Drogo's fearsome reputation.

However, Drogo had already accepted the challenge. He spread his hands, holding no weapons, and walked toward the challenger in a seemingly defenseless state. He then gestured for the challenger to draw his arakh.

Unable to bear Drogo's humiliation and being a warlike Dothraki, the leader of the Khalasars finally drew his arakh and roared.

He pounced on the unarmed Drogo, intending to kill him and become the Khal.

But not much time passed.

Perhaps only a few seconds.

Splatter—

Blood suddenly sprayed on the animal hide tent, and a bloody streak slowly slid down.

From outside the tent, one could see a tall figure still standing in place.

The challenger who had tried to defy Drogo had his own arakh plunged into his neck. His body fell to its knees, his back arched, and his body twisted into an unnatural angle. His wrist bones were crushed.

Several Dothraki men entered from outside and dragged the challenger's corpse from the tent, tossing it into the wilderness.

After some time had passed, two Dothraki men emerged from the tent. One was Drogo's bloodrider Qotho, and the other appeared to be his attendant.

They mounted their horses and headed in the direction of Groleo.

...

Night.

Among the Andal soldiers was a young warrior named Myles, who had once been a close friend of Ser Barristan, the knight who served as Viserys' personal guard.

However, their fortunes differed. His brave friend had been knighted by the king, rising to nobility, while he remained an obscure captain in the army.

The gap between their families was evident. As Barristan's mother had also entered the castle to live, managing some servants and caring for the princesses.

Myles, however, had nothing because of his timidity. Yet, because of this, many familiar faces around him had vanished, and he still lived, becoming an old, seasoned soldier.

Now, he was leading some soldiers who had recently been rotated out to dig holes in the soft soil at the frontlines.

Digging holes?

Myles was unclear why the king would give such an order, but that was the reality of the situation.