Chapter 220: The Khal Crosses the River!
In the Council Hall of Ghozai, the atmosphere seemed to solidify. This small city of Ghozai was surging with hidden currents of power, between the Dragonlord and the Sealord. The last time the Dragonlord and the Sealord were at loggerheads was a century ago when King Jaehaerys sent people to Braavos to inquire about the three missing dragon eggs.
The envoy from Braavos wore black and dark clothing; in Braavos, the truly wealthy, powerful swordsmen, and Faceless Men all dressed this way. The three people on Rhaegar's side appeared more colorful. Rhaegar wore a black Silver Dragon Shirt, Barristan wore white armor, and Oberyn wore a yellow Dornish silk robe.
"I advise Prince Rhaegar not to be too forceful; what is too rigid breaks easily. Revealing all your sharp edges is not a good thing. You are too greedy and too cruel; you must be wary of your enemies!" said Fergo.
"Master Fergo, even if you are the son of the esteemed Sealord, you should know proper etiquette," Prince Oberyn glared.
"I hold a strong grudge. Master Fergo, please relay this to your great Sealord father. It's not just me; if anyone from House Targaryen or anyone near me is harmed—if such a thing truly happens—I wouldn't mind rivers of blood! I have crushed the crowns of the King-Beyond-the-Wall, the Pirate King of the Stepstones, the Archon of Tyrosh, and the Dothraki khal; crushing one more is trivial!" Rhaegar looked at Fergo. He didn't hate Braavos, but a powerful and secretive opponent always required careful attention and vigilance.
"You!" Fergo's face twitched slightly, his complexion even turning pale. He had a congenital weakness hidden since birth, which he usually concealed well, but it surfaced during times of extreme stress. The atmosphere was currently like a fiery purgatory, and fury burned in Fergo's heart. He wanted to flip the table and leave, or immediately send the Faceless Men to assassinate Rhaegar, but he couldn't. The Dragonlord wasn't terrifying; what was terrifying was a Dragonlord who could wield magic. This was the true dread of the Valyrian Dragonlords: they were proficient in the magic of blood and fire, capable of awakening great dragons with runes and horns. Braavos had its own trump cards, and the Sealord suspected Rhaegar possessed different ones.
"Patience prevents great mistakes," Fergo thought of the words of the Moonsinger Priests. The Long Night might be approaching, and the troubles for the Westerosi were still ahead; he did not need to rush this moment.
"Killing ordinary House Targaryen members is useless, only inviting fire and fury, unless the greatest threat, Rhaegar the Silver Dragon, is poisoned or killed. Without the Dragonrider, the others would be helpless. But Rhaegar is fearless; I can sense the flow of magical will. How much magic he controls, or how powerful he is, is impossible to guess. Judging only by the current Stepstones War and the Bloodstone War, the man and the dragon are unharmed. It truly seems like the resurrection of an ancient Dragonlord. If the Faceless Men fail, it will be a disaster of bloodshed."
The atmosphere instantly became extremely heavy. War and peace, the eternal dilemma of humanity. If the flames of war ignited between Westeros and Braavos, it would be a repeat of the Century of Blood.
"In fact, if you think about it, the Known World is vast enough to allow different civilized nations to coexist, and I personally advocate for peace. Undoubtedly, the Dothraki are the common enemy of our civilized world. The existence of the Rhoyne Alliance is solely aimed at the Dothraki barbarians, and its members are friendly nations who love each other." Rhaegar calmed his emotions, trying to persuade Fergo. Although his words sounded high-minded, Rhaegar himself didn't trust his flowery rhetoric. But this was also giving Braavos a way out; Rhaegar guessed that Braavos was currently holding back due to constraints. Braavos wasn't ruled solely by the Sealord; with so many factions, communication was necessary for each, creating a window of opportunity.
"The sincerity of peace is not proven by words; currently, you are the ones being aggressive and constantly expanding your sphere of influence," Fergo said. Braavos practiced a policy of glorious isolation, suppressing the existence of great powers in the Known World. For a long time, the sphere of influence Braavos envisioned for Westeros was just Westeros and the Stepstones, because for many years after the establishment of the Targaryen Dynasty, time and blood were spilled on the lands of Dorne and the Stepstones. But they hadn't anticipated the resurgence of the Dragon. Now the Three Daughters have been subjugated, Westeros's power has crossed the Narrow Sea, and they have even established the Rhoyne Alliance. This is a complete loss of control.
"I think your understanding is mistaken, Master Fergo. We are not expanding; rather, we are striving for peace and the civilized world. It is not Westeros expanding, but the great Free Cities requesting our protection. My presence here is to protect the civilized world, not to compete for hegemony!" Rhaegar stated, enunciating every word. He was indeed trying to create a new confederation of nations, which sounded appealing on the surface but was actually a military protection racket for the Rhoyne Alliance. As for which nations were uncivilized or should be stripped of humanity, that would naturally be decided by the host.
"I hope everything you say is true! Braavos will not forget!" Fergo looked at Rhaegar and the people around him. There was no better alternative right now. More words were useless; Rhaegar was refusing to yield an inch, and on the surface, he truly looked like a high-minded protector of peace. This was not expansion, nor invasion, but the True Dragon of Westeros maintaining peace on the eastern continent.
"Master Fergo, why not stay a few more days? I still have excellent wine and delicacies here! Prince Oberyn could also accompany you for a walk and some relaxation in the new Ghozai. I hear there are no flowers or plants in Braavos."
"Happy to oblige, Master Fergo!" Oberyn added.
"No, thank you! Thank you for your generous hospitality, dear Prince Rhaegar!" A smile actually appeared on Fergo's face, though behind that smile might have been deep hatred.
The negotiations broke down. Rhaegar and Fergo maintained a basic level of decorum before parting ways unhappily. The Braavosi quickly left Ghozai, as if they had never arrived.
"He truly is a ruthless character!" Oberyn said, watching Fergo's departing figure. "Patience, rigidity, and planning—he can endure until the end. He is your perfect enemy, Prince. No wonder the Sealord values this son so highly. His Sealord father is willing to invest effort in cultivating him; in a few decades, Fergo will be the new Sealord. The Fergo family's power is extraordinary, and this man is both brave and shrewd."
"Indeed! Fergo's furious arrival here proves that we have provoked Braavos!" said Ser Barristan.
"Prince, then you must be careful. It is said that the most formidable opponents are the Faceless Men of Braavos." Oberyn's face also held a trace of worry; he had heard the godlike and ghostly legends of the Faceless Men.
"Just keep a calm mind. I'd like to see what the Faceless Men's assassination skills are worth. The fact that Fergo was willing to come shows that Braavos hasn't reached a firm decision yet. As you know, Braavos currently has several layers of power: the Moonsinger Priests, the Iron Bank moneylenders, the maritime traders, and the Braavosi navy. To commit to war, all four groups must agree." Rhaegar knew the Faceless Men were few in number and extremely expensive. Furthermore, the Faceless Men likely had strange taboos. Otherwise, they should have appeared during the bloody war between Aegon the Conqueror and Dorne, but they did not. This suggests two things: first, the price of the Faceless Men is an unimaginably astronomical figure, and second, they use money as a threshold and weigh the pros and cons; they are not without constraints.
"Prince Oberyn, you will be responsible for managing the trivial affairs of the Rhoyne Alliance. Khal Drogo can only be counted as a lesser khal. I am worried that once the news of Drogo's death spreads, other khals might come looking for trouble!" Rhaegar steered the conversation back to the khals, which was the current pressing matter.
"That's hard to say. Khals are rash and impulsive; perhaps more khals will come later to attack this city."
"I have prepared a new tactic for the khals!" Rhaegar said mysteriously. "We need the axemen of Norvos, or at least their assistance; they will serve as an ambush force."
"Additionally, we need blacksmiths to forge iron hammers, iron axes, or great sabers!" This was Rhaegar's second command. These weapons might not be effective against the Ironclad Knights of Westeros, but they are perfect for dealing with these unarmored barbarians.
A few days later, across the Upper Rhoyne River, another, larger, darker, and more ominous khalasar appeared. Another khal's army had arrived.
Rhaegar saw it in the flames. Rhaegar thought it was Khal Drogo's father's army, but after careful distinction, it turned out to be another khal's. Khal Ogo, a rising star among the khals. This young man was so arrogant, even more presumptuous than Khal Balbo. Khal Ogo was tall, with reddish-brown skin. His long, drooping beard was interlocked with metal silver rings. His black hair was dark and glossy, tied into countless braids, with silver bells hanging within them. Ogo was younger than Khal Balbo, and throughout the entire grassland, he only feared Balbo. He was determined to become the Khal of Khals.
Khal Ogo raised his arakh and roared. His soldiers began to slowly cross the Upper Rhoyne River, heading toward Ghozai.
"I wondered who it was—turns out it's this unlucky fool!" Rhaegar realized who the arriving khal was: Khal Ogo, who was later slaughtered by Khal Drogo in a skirmish. Drogo killed Khal Ogo and his son, but received a wound on his chest that eventually festered and killed him.
In truth, the khals had a point. They originally made their living off the vast grasslands of the Dothraki Sea and by extorting the Free Cities. They never expected that now, someone would be seizing their livelihood.
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