Chapter 114: The Emissaries

At this moment, they were standing in the night breeze, smelling the stench in the air, using the corpses of Dothraki and their horses as barricades.

And on the ground, they were digging holes the thickness of an ordinary arm... no, thicker than an arm, perhaps the size of a horse's foreleg.

Huh...

The Andal youth with disheveled hair from the wind stood on the land outside Ghaston Grey, surrounded by more soldiers like him, all working on digging holes in the ground.

He felt that he seemed to vaguely understand the reason behind the King's command.

At that moment.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

A faint sound of horse hooves approached, growing closer and closer.

Myles's ears twitched as if he had heard something, and he was the first to look up. As an experienced veteran who had escaped death several times on the battlefield, his alertness was always a top priority.

In the distance.

On the pitch-black wilderness, the young Andalos soldiers, aided by the dim moonlight, could vaguely see two Dothraki riders rapidly approaching.

"Who goes there!"

The nearby Andalos soldiers who were digging holes also noticed the strangers, immediately becoming alert, putting down their shovels and drawing their shortswords from their waists.

"Halt!"

But as the Andalos soldiers were startled and on high alert,

Under the faint moonlight, they saw the two unidentifiable Dothraki riders suddenly vanish before their eyes.

"Huh?"

"Where did they go?"

Myles scratched his head, suspecting that his eyes were playing tricks on him. How could two living people suddenly disappear? However, when he looked around at his comrades, he found that they also seemed somewhat puzzled.

But then, they heard the painful neighing of the horses and some incomprehensible grumbling, which didn't sound like anything friendly, more like cursing.

The sudden peculiar situation quickly attracted the attention of the soldiers in the rear, carrying torches.

"Torches!"

Myles adjusted his helmet and took a torch from a comrade. A group of Andalos soldiers drew their swords and cautiously approached the source of the noise.

When they got closer, they discovered two injured horses with broken legs, lying on the ground and neighing in pain.

Their riders had been thrown off, disheveled and injured. At that moment, two Dothraki men with braids were sitting on the ground, rubbing their heads.

"It's the Dothraki!"

The faces of the Andalos soldiers were instantly filled with anger and hatred. They didn't know how many of their brothers-in-arms had died at the hands of the Dothraki during the day's fierce battle.

Among them were both Andals and Rhoynars. The Andals were somewhat better off, as they were farther away and had hardly suffered any attacks from the Dothraki.

However, the Rhoynar villages were closer to the Dothraki Sea, and many Rhoynars had experienced the barbarians' assaults.

Even without considering the day's battle, they already harbored deep hatred, and the eyes of the Andalos soldiers turned red in an instant.

"They must be here to gather intelligence!"

"Kill them!"

A group of Andalos soldiers drew their shortswords from their waists, ready to pounce and kill the two Dothraki scouts.

.

And among the two Dothraki, Drogo's bloodrider Qotho had just been thrown into a disoriented mess, his head still dizzy.

He had been riding his warhorse and humming a tune when he suddenly fell into a pit.

Who could've reacted to that?

Not to mention him, even Drogo himself would have taken a tumble.

Before Qotho could fully regain his senses, they were surrounded by a group of Andals wielding torches and weapons.

Although he couldn't understand their chattering, Qotho wasn't a fool. From their agitated expressions, he knew they weren't saying anything friendly.

Then, these "lambs" seemed to become bloodthirsty, as if they wanted to pounce on and devour them alive.

Although Qotho was still feeling a bit dazed, he snapped back to attention, quickly scrambled to his feet, drew the curved blade from his waist, and assumed a defiant stance.

However.

Just as a clash was about to erupt, the other Dothraki with Qotho suddenly spoke in broken Westerosi Common Tongue.

"Hey, stop!"

"We are envoys of Drogo. Take us to your..."

The Dothraki's Common Tongue sounded a bit awkward, but the Andal soldiers present understood him.

As the man seemed unfamiliar with Andal culture and didn't know how to address the Andals' ruler, he continued, "Take us to your... Magister."

Finally, with a red face and strained neck, the Dothraki managed to utter what he thought was the correct title.

However, although the Andal soldiers stopped upon hearing they were envoys, they exchanged puzzled glances upon hearing the request for the "Magister."

"Magister?"

"Where did we get a Magister?"

Fortunately, Myles understood the man's words and stepped forward to translate and defuse the situation.

"Alright."

"It seems these two envoys are here to negotiate with His Majesty, our King."

With that, the misunderstanding was truly resolved.

Myles then escorted the two Dothraki envoys back to Gunthor Baratheon's camp.

The Dothraki translator was fine, as he could barely understand what the Andals and Lannisters were saying, so his mental stress wasn't too great.

However, Drogo's bloodrider Qotho remained highly strung, like a startled cat, vigilantly observing his surroundings. The slightest rustling would prompt him to reach for the hilt of his blade.

Before long, the two Dothraki envoys were brought into Viserys's tent.

Night had fallen.

However, the young king hadn't rested yet, and his energy surpassed that of others.

A half-burned white wax candle lay on the table.

At that moment, he was in his tent, pondering over the battle strategy as he examined the map on the table. To an outsider, it appeared as if Viserys was daydreaming while staring at the map.

Just then.

The guard standing outside the tent walked in and whispered a few words into Viserys's ear.

"Hmm?"

The young king raised his head slightly, his pale purple eyes sparkling.

Then, he lowered his gaze back to the map, contemplated for a moment, and finally nodded.

"Let them in."