Chapter 214: The Khal's Provocation
Three Demon Dragons streaked across the sky, and the atmosphere in Ghoyan Drohe was far from optimistic.
Ghoyan Drohe was originally a small town, and now vegetable gardens were everywhere. The docks on the edge of the city were also being slowly cleared, and Black City would only grow better and better.
Previously, the population here had consisted of three groups: the native inhabitants, runaway slaves, and Prince Oberyn Martell's roughly one hundred Dornish guards and retainers.
Rhaegar and Ser Barristan Selmy had brought five hundred Dragon Guard cavalry across the sea to Ghoyan Drohe, serving as the main strike force in the coming war.
The Valyrian Road was ideal for cavalry charges, and this heavily armored iron fist was the gift Rhaegar had prepared for the Khals.
The soldiers looked at everything with curiosity—a city of the eastern continent, Ghoyan Drohe, seemingly reborn from history.
"It seems the Prince is already prepared for battle."
Rhaegar noticed Prince Oberyn Martell polishing his spear, its blade shining like a star.
Oberyn wore a jeweled belt, and his armor was richly decorated with polished copper plates, glittering silver inlays, and soft red gold accents.
Beside him rested a shield engraved with House Martell's sun-and-spear sigil.
His attendants were also fully prepared, ready to defend Ghoyan Drohe at any moment.
"To be honest, I really like your Black City. It has a lingering Rhoynar feel to it. But if it weren't for those damned horsemen provoking us, life here would be far more comfortable.
"These jabbering barbarians keep harassing us. In the past few days, several Screamers have come to provoke us. I haven't gone out, but my hands are already itching."
Oberyn complained as he spoke.
"When those horse barbarians crossed the river, the land turned green for miles. It's said these Dothraki Screamers worship the earth as their mother and hate anything that cuts into it with axes and sickles, so they despise all towns.
"In the entire Great Grass Sea, only Vaes Dothrak remains as their sacred city. Ghoyan Drohe standing here must be an eyesore to them."
Rhaegar chuckled.
Old Valyria and the Dothraki—two of the great civilization-destroying forces of the known world.
At least the Valyrian dragonlords left the Valyrian Roads behind.
But in the Dothraki way of life, there was only slaughter and destruction—an extreme form of "returning the world to nature."
"Speaking of this Khal, he might even be an acquaintance of yours," Oberyn said.
"Khal Drogo. He used to be a Ko under that unfortunate Khal Mosso you killed. He served under that unlucky Khal before rising."
"Mosso's strength was decent, but his Ko could only command a fraction of the Screamers. Drogo shouldn't be particularly strong either. So how does he dare provoke us?"
Rhaegar sounded slightly surprised.
Currently, the most powerful force on the Great Grass Sea was Khal Balbo, Khal Drogo's father.
How could a minor Khal like Drogo dare to provoke him?
"I don't know," Oberyn replied after thinking. "According to runaway slaves who fled into the city, Drogo's khalasar is too small to challenge other Khals. He may be planning to go to Pentos to extort wealth.
"But according to Dothraki custom, they destroy every settlement they encounter."
"Is he seeking death?" Rhaegar said slowly, beginning to understand.
The Khals' mentality was fundamentally different from ordinary men. They found joy in conquest and slaughter, and rarely retreated unless forced by death.
"Prince, what do you think of the Dothraki's combat strength?" Ser Barristan Selmy asked.
He was also curious. Barristan was a legendary knight with a brilliant record, yet he had never truly fought the Dothraki in full war.
"I have seen them from city walls before," Oberyn said after a moment's thought. "Their strengths and weaknesses are both very obvious. Defeating them depends entirely on the commander."
"Their advantage is their numbers of excellent horses. Their horsemanship and archery are strong. Their longbows often outrange the typical bows of Westerosi armies.
"Most Westerosi archers fight on foot, behind shield walls or palisades of sharpened stakes.
"Moreover, their Screamers are numerous. Unlike the mixed armies of knights, peasants, and mercenaries in Westeros, Khal Balbo alone can likely field thirty thousand Screamers.
"They can ride and shoot, charge and retreat freely. And they do not fear death. If they launch a suicidal charge, even disciplined Westerosi forces could struggle to hold."
"But they don't wear armor. Isn't that just asking for death?" Ser Barristan said after considering it.
He knew a little of their customs.
The Dothraki were natural riders, superior horsemen to even most knights.
Light cavalry formed their main strength. They fought with arakhs, bows, and whips.
They considered armor cowardly, preferring painted leather vests and horsehair leggings.
"In truth, their tactics are somewhat similar to those of Dorne," Oberyn said.
"Dorne also relies heavily on light cavalry, due to heat and sparse population. But the scale is completely different.
"The Dornish forces are small. Even at full strength, they cannot compare in numbers.
"A powerful Khal can raise forty thousand Screamers. They are wealthy in horses and mobility.
"Their tactics are also different. Dornish forces rely on hit-and-run harassment, while the Dothraki can directly clash using sheer cavalry strength."
"Fighting without armor is courting death," Barristan said.
"But their mobility is terrifying. Back then, Mazor Alequo, the last High King of Sarnor, gathered six thousand chariots, twenty thousand cavalry, and one hundred thousand infantry outside Sarnath to face eighty thousand Dothraki under four Khals.
"That battlefield became known as the Field of Crows.
"The Sarnori had armor and numerical superiority, yet they were utterly defeated. One hundred thousand died, and Sarnath fell shortly after."
Rhaegar spoke calmly.
This occurred during the Century of Blood.
The Dothraki had overwhelmed the Great Grass Sea.
Their strength lay in horses, mobility, and fearlessness.
To claim they had no strengths would be foolish—it was simply that their way of war lacked structure and discipline.
Against true heavy armored cavalry, the outcome would be uncertain.
But cavalry itself was already the domain of knights and the wealthy.
Westeros would struggle to assemble comparable forces in sufficient numbers.
However, Rhaegar had dragons.
And dragons inspired no fear in Dothraki horsemen—only oblivion.
"If that is the case, Prince, I will go observe the enemy formation," Barristan said.
But before anyone could act, Rhaegar called out—and a Silver Dragon descended from the sky.
Rhaegar mounted it and flew toward the Khal's encampment beyond Ghoyan Drohe.
Khal Drogo's khalasar was camped across the Upper Rhoyne.
It was a small khalasar.
In truth, Rhaegar already knew this Khal.
He had once killed Khal Mosso in Pentos.
After that khalasar collapsed, one of Mosso's former followers—Drogo—had gathered remnants and declared himself Khal.
"So small, yet they dare to provoke me."
From above, Rhaegar looked down at tents scattered across the grasslands.
The Dothraki lived in crude grass-woven structures that mimicked palaces.
They were tall, bronze-skinned, with dark hair and pale yellow-brown eyes.
Drogo likely had a little over three thousand Screamers.
The rest were slaves, women, and children attached to the khalasar.
On the grasslands, warriors dueled with curved arakhs in brutal dances of blood.
The Dothraki maintained strict scouting systems when moving.
After battle, axe-men scavenged the dead, while others collected arrows for reuse.
Scouts ranged ahead of the main host, tracking enemies and prey, while vanguards protected the flanks.
"Good cavalry, strong horses… but no real technology."
Rhaegar observed coldly.
No trebuchets.
No siege engines.
No physicians worth mentioning.
They simply fought, killed, and moved on.
Fortunately, the Great Grass Sea could sustain such a lifestyle.
Historically, great cavalry empires often relied on more than mobility—they valued craftsmen, logistics, and siege power.
The Dothraki remained a simplified form of mounted warfare.
No armor.
No medicine.
No infrastructure.
No wonder Drogo later died from an infected wound worsened by witchcraft.
"In the end, they're still valuable horses."
Rhaegar's gaze sharpened.
Each Dothraki horse alone was worth a fortune.
He could almost see them as spoils waiting to be claimed.
He could have struck from the air immediately.
But instead, he decided to wait.
To crush them head-on.
"Let's wait," Rhaegar said after returning. "Once we defeat this Khal, the others will lose all courage."
He looked toward Oberyn and Barristan.
"After the Demon Dragons are deployed, all that remains… is collecting the horses."
Not long after, Khal Drogo once again led several Dothraki Screamers to the edge of Black City, shouting incoherently in challenge.
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