The sea breeze blew quietly; the night in Pentos was sweet, the latitude here was moderate, and the temperature was just right.
It was not as cold as Braavos, nor was it as hot as Tyrosh and Myr.
It was said that Lys had the best environment, though Viserys had not yet been there.
Viserys looked at the stars in the sky; they were brilliant, and the stars would also gaze down upon the impending slaughter on the ground.
The lights in the palace villa dimmed, as if it had fallen into a deep sleep, the palace resembling dark behemoths separated by great distances.
To prevent Viserys and the Khal from being too close and causing conflict, the two were located at opposite ends of the palace complex, with a considerable distance between them.
Unfortunately, this was merely wishful thinking on the part of the Pentoshi.
Viserys was still very much looking forward to killing Khal Jilokao with his own hands; these dothraki and the Ironborn of the Iron Islands, like shameless bandit mercenaries and bandit knights, were all extremely cold-blooded and bloody social Darwinists.
If he killed these bastards, the attributes that would drop would certainly be extraordinary.
The attributes of a Khal—this was something Viserys had not previously imagined.
"Streams flow into the sea, and so do nations," Viserys thought to himself.
Viserys had not expected that, as fellow travelers coming to Pentos for money, he had not made a move, yet this Khal Jilokao, in turn, wanted to double-cross and ambush him.
Such actions were already a path to death.
To double-cross and flip the table—only he, Viserys, had the qualifications to do so.
Viserys fighting to the death with Khal Drogo at the beginning was purely a strategic gamble; now, little by little, accumulation and development were the true path of a king.
Since this Khal Jilokao wanted to seek death, let him come; it would just happen to dispel the nonsense that the dothraki were invincible.
The art of war lies in playing to one's strengths and avoiding weaknesses, and adapting to circumstances.
What the dothraki were best at was luring the enemy deep and executing the great maneuver of firing a hail of arrows; ordinary armies simply could not withstand it.
Back then, the Sarnori fell into this kind of ambush; the High King of Sarnor's army of over one hundred thousand entered the encirclement formation of the Khals' eighty thousand cavalry and were completely annihilated.
The fortified defense Viserys envisioned, with the dothraki making a frontal assault, was the most favorable battle scenario for them.
After all, if the dothraki ran wild and fled, the heavy cavalry in their steel cans would never catch up, no matter how exhausted they became.
Viserys had observed the Dothraki Screamers, and their training did indeed have some merits.
First, the dothraki horsemen had been with horses since they were small, so their horsemanship was naturally superb.
The Dothraki Screamers were all unarmored light cavalry, relying on the explosive power of the dothraki horses and their tactical maneuverability.
Warhorses were very expensive, and ordinary nations did not have such large grasslands or so many good horses, which was why the scale of the dothraki cavalry was frighteningly large.
Even the powerful Golden Company of Essos only had about one thousand cavalry.
Moreover, all dothraki men were soldiers; these chaotic races were not afraid of death in their hearts.
By contrast, the armies of Westeros were shaped like a sandwich; only the core knightly units were elite, and the proportion of cavalry was very low.
The elite knights of Westeros had good training and education, but the fighting will and quality of those temporary peasant soldiers were completely indescribable, and they would rout quickly.
"Your Grace, the longbowmen have been arranged!" said the marksman Hugo Rex.
Viserys had pulled out one hundred longbowmen to occupy the high ground of the palace for suppressive fire.
The Andal longbowmen were already in position, determined to show the dothraki a thing or two.
These soldiers were all holding back a breath of anger; after all, from the Andalos to the rhoynar, there were atrocities by the dothraki horsemen everywhere, and they had been bullied terribly.
"I will lead the riders in a frontal assault; I leave this palace to you," Viserys said to Hugo.
"As you command, Your Grace!" Hugo promised.
"No movement for now," said a scout.
"Good, continue to observe the enemy situation," Viserys ordered.
Viserys awaited the bell of fate; if the Dothraki came, this would be a bloody battle.
If they did not come, it was no great harm.
For a commander, caution was better than recklessness.
Viserys trusted his intuition; the Khal was short on money and also looked down on them.
"The Hour of the Wolf has arrived, Your Grace," Argos Blackwood said after another moment.
The Hour of the Wolf was the darkest moment of the day; if the Dothraki barbarians were going to make a move, it would be at this moment.
"No rush, let's see how many of them there are," Viserys said.
Argos had already put on full heavy armor, with chainmail under the plate armor, looking like a mountain of flesh, along with his astonishingly large greatsword.
As for his warhorse, the armor on it was equally heavy.
This was the very traditional Andal heavy cavalry; both the men and the warhorses were extremely expensive.
Such heavy cavalry had cost Viserys a great deal of effort and gold.
Heavy cavalry was excellent for frontal confrontation, though when it came to chasing people and maneuverability compared to unarmored knights, that was another matter.
After all, a horse's load-bearing capacity and endurance were limited, and it could not compete in terms of agility.
Viserys tapped his fingers on his sword belt; according to his understanding, Khal Jilokao still had a Ko guarding the main camp.
Combined with Khal Jilokao's arrogance, it was highly likely that he had just brought a thousand elite soldiers to kill them.
Roars suddenly awakened the silence of the night, followed by the high-pitched roars of the Unsullied Squires, and the sound of torches suddenly lighting up.
Khal Jilokao, he truly could not endure the loneliness.
"Your Grace, we have seen the enemy's formation; it is about a thousand cavalry, and the Khal's Ko has not been mobilized."
"Good."
Out of arrogance and optimism, Khal Jilokao intended to enjoy the sweetness of victory alone, and besides, waking up his Ko would make too much noise.
Khal Jilokao swaggered in to carry out the ambush alone, bringing his thousand-plus warriors.
Viserys looked at the shirtless Dothraki Screamers; this was too much of a joke—once a wound became infected, they would all be finished.
"Do not fire until the enemy is within two hundred and fifty yards!"
"Draw bows!" Hugo ordered; this was the effective firing range of an ordinary longbow.
"Let's go." Viserys walked quickly down the tower, his Squires like a silent forest.
This palace was limited in scale; apart from the longbowmen and those Unsullied guards at the door, the other knights still had to go head-to-head on the battlefield.
Outside the side door, the cavalry in the darkness were ready, and the barracks were already empty.
The silver armor Viserys wore shone with flowing light, like an immortal god of war.
"Today, I lead you to the battlefield. Those who love me, prepare to follow me!" Viserys swung onto his horse, and the black stallion neighed in cheer.
"Revenge!"
"Revenge!"
Five hundred Andal heavy cavalry and two hundred rhoynar light cavalry followed closely behind their commander.
The Andals and the rhoynar had long been filled with anger and needed to vent it.
Viserys was waiting for the first wave of failure of the Dothraki Screamers; his time was tight, and he needed to take out the Khal, with the second step being to block the Khal's Ko and tribe.
This was a critical time difference; the Khal himself was at the luxurious palace on the beach with a portion of his elite, effectively disconnected from the tribe on the grasslands of Pentos.
Viserys had long ago ordered people to scatter spiked caltrops on the roads on both sides; the first wave of dothraki warriors galloping on their horses realized something was wrong, but it was too late to react.
Because the distance was short, and combined with their arrogance, the Dothraki Screamers were confident of an easy victory and had not sent out any effective scouts at all.
The Dothraki warhorses neighed and leaped, throwing the knights wearing painted vests onto the ground.
Many Screamers could not react in time and were trampled to death by the following warhorses.
The faces of the dothraki warriors were trampled into a lump of mud, their heads splattering red and white like watermelons, their bodies torn to pieces.
The wailing and fighting sounds spread across the battlefield; the dothraki did not treat their own kin as human at all—if they died, they died.
The dothraki knights did not care about their dead companions at all, but instead shouted and brandished the long curved swords in their hands, seemingly completely unfazed by the sacrifices and obstacles.
The scene instantly became bloody, and the blood of the dead stained the white gravel on the beach red.
"Draw bows!"
"Loose!"
Taking advantage of the starlight and torches, the Andal longbowmen on the towers of Viserys's palace also began to let their arrows fly.
The ruthless arrows pierced through the bodies of the dothraki, and blood splattered.
The short-range longbow shots were extraordinarily powerful, and the archers calmly delivered their greetings of death.
Furthermore, the Dothraki Screamers were charging as if they were running naked; those hit in the throat, chest, or abdomen had no hope of survival, and many died on the battlefield from these attacks.
A rain of arrows swept across, aiming to strike the enemy's vital points or the faces of their warhorses.
The arrows from Viserys's longbowmen hailed down upon the dothraki like a storm; hundreds, thousands, countless in an instant.
Many dothraki were struck by arrows and fell to the ground, their war cries turning into wails.
At this moment, a second wave of attacks descended from the air, and the archers nocked their third arrows onto their bowstrings.
"Throw spears!" Gaelin also shouted.
"Loose!" In the darkness, the rhoynar spearmen raised their short spears, twisting their bodies like braided dough to exert force, and these short spears were launched from a range closer than the effective range of the longbows.
The short spears ruthlessly streaked across the sky, and the dothraki looked up in astonishment, having never seen such a flamboyant style of combat in their memory.
"Cowards!"
"Cowards!" the dothraki cursed in anger.
The short spears coldly pierced the bronze skin of the Dothraki Screamers, blood staining the horses, the corpses sliding lifelessly from their saddles, and the warhorses whinnied in solitude.
"To die by my combined arms tactic, Khal, is a fitting end for you." Viserys held back his excited black stallion, and his spear, the spear of gaelis, seemed to thirst for slaughter.
"Damn it, these cowards." Khal Jilokao's expression darkened; there had been no leak, so how were the enemies already prepared?
But for the dothraki, courage came first in battle. He had already committed many knights, and the losses were heavy.
If they failed in this battle as well, his position as Khal might be overturned.
"Children of the horse, invincible!" Thinking of this, Khal Jilokao took a deep breath and brandished his long blade.
The Dothraki also raised their bows, returning fire towards the longbowmen on the palace tower.
After the iron-tipped arrows and the longbowmen, it was time for the long blades to be stained with blood.
"Warriors!"
"Great River!"
"Wash away our humiliation!" Viserys raised his spear; he saw everything clearly.
The dothraki had already paid a heavy price for their arrogance, and the advantage in numbers had shifted to the point where Viserys's cavalry held a slight lead.
At this moment, there was only one choice: battle.
Talk of schemes and deceptions was false; only by completely crushing the enemy could the martial soul of this army be forged.
The Andal heavy cavalry, like iron monsters, appeared before the enemy, led by Argos of the "Seven Stars," wielding a terrifyingly ugly greatsword.
Argos roared, raising his greatsword, "Come and fight, you bastards who sleep with cows and sheep, you dothraki."
This time, there was no crescent formation of heavy spearmen to break the horses; it was a straight, head-on cavalry charge.
A dothraki Screamer's long blade struck Argos's armor, but it was useless.
Speaking of experience in breaking armor head-on, the dothraki had some, but not much.
Argos let out an angry roar and directly overturned the dothraki.
The dothraki's upper body flew off at an angle; this time he really became a Half-man, as Argos's immense strength worked a miracle, cutting the dothraki in two.
Viserys, meanwhile, kept his eyes on Khal Jilokao's movements; he was leading the elite spearman reserve.
Seeing the heavy cavalry blooming like iron roses within the enemy ranks, Viserys felt his suspended heart ease.
The Andals and the dothraki clashed in battle, with the rhoynar knights providing support from the side with their bows.
In close-quarters combat, unarmored light cavalry using such a piecemeal tactic was truly foolish.
The Dothraki Screamers swung their long blades, but if they couldn't pierce the armor, the heavy knights found their window to counterattack.
Iron armor, iron spears, iron hammers, and iron blades roared, and the Dothraki Screamers looked at the results in astonishment.
Once their long blades failed to find a gap in the armor or got stuck, death awaited them.
A dothraki rode through the battlefield, slumped limply over his horse's neck, a spear driven into his abdomen and protruding from his back.
Khal Jilokao's gold belt was indeed eye-catching, and Viserys found his target.
"Khal Jilokao, your opponent is me." Viserys roared, then raised his spear, and the reserve force surged like a hurricane.
Khal Jilokao also saw the silver-armored knight wrapped in a black and red cloak and immediately identified him as Viserys.
"Go, tyroshi." Khal Jilokao also attacked.
After all, Dothraki Khals also enjoyed single combat; it was after single combat against other Khals that Khal Drogo had sustained his major wounds.
Viserys's speed was astonishing; the silver spear struck at Khal Jilokao like a viper.
Thanks to The Red Viper, the grandmaster of spear fighting, Viserys's spearwork was also masterful.
"Damn!" Khal Jilokao immediately swayed his body to dodge; this handsome young man's skill was outstanding, not just for show.
The spear grazed the Khal's side and back, rather than piercing directly into his guts.
Even so, the burning pain made Khal Jilokao feel incredibly crazed.
Khal Jilokao's long blade danced in a flurry of iron light, while Viserys calmly watched Jilo's movements.
Jilo also had some experience dealing with armor; after all, experienced Dothraki Screamers facing armored soldiers would prioritize finding the vulnerable points, such as the joints of the armor.
Unfortunately, Khal Jilokao had encountered Viserys's silver scale armor.
Up and down! Left and right! Thrusts, upward slashes, spinning stabs, feints.
Although Khal Jilokao was the elite choice among the two thousand dothraki knights, Viserys's attributes were higher.
Viserys's movements became faster and faster, while Khal Jilokao could rarely touch his enemy.
Khal Jilokao fought desperately to parry Viserys's elusive and sharp spear, but the wounds on his body multiplied, including a deep penetrating wound in his abdomen.
"Go to hell!" Khal Jilokao's eyes turned red, like a roaring lion.
Khal Jilokao decided to try and break through the silver scale armor with his long blade, trading life for life.
But when his long blade fell, Viserys dodged to the side to parry, and the glancing blade had no effect on the silver armor.
Viserys countered with a backhand thrust, the spear striking the Khal's chest, piercing through muscle and lung, killing him instantly.
Viserys twisted his spear in Khal Jilokao's body; the Khal was dead beyond doubt, and his long blade slid to the ground.
"Khal! Khal!" The Bloodriders let out roars; the Khal was dead, and the Bloodriders could not live alone.
Viserys thrust his spear, taking out another Bloodrider, the spear piercing the dothraki's throat.
Argos shouted and charged over, slaying another frenzied Bloodrider with a single strike of his sword.
"Khal Jilokao is dead!" Viserys roared, his voice ringing across the battlefield like iron, shaking the surroundings.
Following Viserys's roar, this dothraki army began to shatter completely, like glass.
They were beaten into confusion, feeling as if the battle was a chaotic game, realizing they had been toyed with and had lost the most critical decisive battle.
They were pummeled by these knights who were like iron cans; after all, not every dothraki possessed the strength of a Bloodrider, and in close-quarters combat, having no armor was fatal.
Viserys pulled over Khal Jilokao's corpse, and with a swift stroke, his dragonbone-handled dagger severed the Khal's head, which was then tied to his horse.
"Everything was fine, why did you go and provoke him?" Illyrio cried out bitterly from the city walls.
Illyrio suddenly felt incredibly depressed; this Viserys was truly too crazy, and yet shrewd and ruthless.
He had long noticed the dothraki's insolence and had even been feigning that he didn't understand.
But once he made a move, he showed no mercy.
The people of Pentos had long noticed the sounds of slaughter below, but not a single Magister had the courage to intervene and stop the killing between the two sides.
Whether it was Viserys or the Dothraki Khals, they were all bloodthirsty monsters.