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The army of the dothraki was like a wildly blooming black torrent, while the White City of Viserysburg stood as an insurmountable white rock.
Atop the walls of Viserysburg, a black banner like a midnight ocean was embroidered with a three-headed red dragon.
Seeing this banner, the people cheered the name of their King.
Whether they were Andals, Rhoynar, or escaped slaves.
The Andals painted the symbol of the seven-pointed star on their faces, representing the protection of the Warrior (one of the Seven).
Argos presented the longbow; the double-curved Dragonbone Bow was as black as eternal night, its dragonbone hard as iron, yet the material was extremely light and flexible.
Dragonbone, naturally, was also unafraid of fire.
The Dragonbone Bow was the finest bow in the world, and its price was extraordinarily high.
Equipped with a Dragonbone Bow, an archer could easily exceed the range of wooden bows. Even the dothraki regarded the Dragonbone Bow as a rare treasure.
As the premier mercenary company of Essos, the Golden Company possessed very wealthy financial reserves from years of warfare.
But the best archers were Hakeem's fifty Goldenheart longbowmen from the Summer Isles, who had rarely seen the power of a Dragonbone Bow.
The bow sounded like a sudden clap of thunder as Viserys raised his hand and exerted his strength.
Hakeem and his archers, seeing the King's calm and composed manner, could not help but anticipate the result.
The first arrow!
The second arrow!
And then the third arrow!
Before Hakeem could even recover his senses, the second and third arrows had already flown out, humming like bees.
Hakeem watched the direction of the arrows; without fail, they pierced directly through the chests of the Dothraki.
Every single arrow took the life of a dothraki savage.
The dothraki were bare-chested, wearing only painted vests with no helmets or visors on their faces; such moving targets had virtually no defense to speak of.
A sharp arrow pierced through the throat of a Dothraki who had been laughing and cursing; he opened his mouth to shout, but only blood gushed out.
These Dothraki Screamers, howling as they brandished their arakhs, watched helplessly as their companions fell one by one, the arrows retaining their force and even passing straight through their bodies.
"You possess true divine strength, His Majesty Viserys," Hakeem said with great admiration.
The people of the Summer Isles were also excellent longbowmen, and the performance of Viserys and the archers of the Andalos' army had successfully earned their respect.
Even though the range of a Dragonbone Bow was far superior to ordinary bows, hitting every mark at such a distance was not just a matter of the bow; the archer's own strength and skill had reached a level of perfection.
The soldiers on the walls began to cheer, shouting: "Long live Viserys! Long live Viserys! Long live King Viserys!"
The dothraki knights fell into a gloom; their initial attacks shattered like waves against a reef, yet they had not even touched Viserysburg.
The horn sounded again, and the dothraki launched a new charge; once more, the knights galloped forward, trampling the ground beneath them.
However, all they gained was death.
The massive arms of the catapults began to swing again, and stones as large as human heads whistled through the air, crashing ruthlessly onto the ground.
"Now it's your turn to show your skill," Viserys commanded.
"It is our honor, Your Majesty." Hakeem no longer declined; as reinforcements, they had to act the part.
"Draw bows!"
"Loose!"
The sound of bowstrings tightening and then whistling was like a pleasant melody, representing a dance of death.
Viserys watched as the Screamers who were lucky enough to escape the falling stones were picked off by the Scorpion operators and archers at the murder holes and along the walls.
The Screamers desperately drew their recurve bows to fire at the battlements, but the Andalos' walls held a strategic advantage from their height, and the Goldenheart and Yew Longbows were extraordinarily powerful.
The corpses of the dothraki lay scattered across the battlefield, staining the earth brown—a color of utter tragedy.
The open ground in front of Viserysburg was littered with all kinds of corpses.
Some had their heads smashed by catapult stones, some were shot down by arrows or scorpions, and others lost control and fell from their horses after being wounded, only to be trampled to death.
The battle between the two sides lasted from noon until dusk, and the dothraki were never able to advance very far.
At dusk, the battle came to a temporary halt.
"Once there was a Khal, named Khal Drogo."
Some warriors proficient in the dothraki language mocked and jeered from the walls; this time, it was their turn to taunt the dothraki.
Khal Drogo's knuckles turned white from gripping; he didn't understand how to break this turtle-shell formation and might still need to wait for those Tyrosh allies he had originally looked down upon.
Open field battles were the strength of the dothraki; when it came to a siege or a fight to the death, they lagged far behind, even lacking any clue how to proceed.
"Withdraw and camp in the rear!"
"Withdraw."
The dothraki camp moved back slightly, but they still maintained a vague standoff with Viserysburg.
"They are waiting for someone." Viserys observed Khal Drogo's deployment; although they had left behind some bodies, Khal Drogo's main force remained intact.
"It should be the Tyrosh reinforcements, Your Majesty..." Hakeem said.
Viserys looked at Hakeem. "Perhaps I'll need your help. Tell Commander Mace that the situation is ripe."
"As you command, Your Majesty." Hakeem nodded.
If the Andalos' army was the main force, the Golden Company, wishing to board the ships, should also demonstrate its own value.
Viserys looked at the Dothraki camp where lights were beginning to flicker in the distance; without finding Khal Drogo's great tent, a night raid would be useless.
Furthermore, the Dothraki gathered and dispersed unpredictably; only by completely crushing Khal Drogo could this barbarian army be controlled.
At night, Viserys dined with the soldiers on the walls of Viserysburg.
Accompanied by the aroma of roasted beef, fresh bread, and grilled fish, the soldiers did not fear the ongoing war.
Even late into the night, Viserys did not return to the White Keep to rest; instead, he stayed at his temporary headquarters at the foot of the hill, using his large field tent.
On the second day, the dothraki continued their attack in the same manner as before, though the number of men they committed had significantly decreased.
On the third day, a new camp was erected not far from the Dothraki.
Various banners were raised within the camp; although Viserys requested the Golden Company to be on guard, he did not force them to commit their entire strength.
Considering the Dothraki were still in the outskirts, the Golden Company only conducted reconnaissance with scouts.
"It's Bloodbeard's men," Viserys saw through his myrish lens.
"Company of the Cat."
"Brave Companions."
"Brave Companions."
"And the mercenaries from the city of Tyrosh."
Viserys saw the banners: a blood-red cat representing the Company of the Cat, a black goat with bloody horns for the Brave Companions, and four crows separated by a shining arrow for the Stormcrows.
These newly arrived reinforcements numbered about six thousand.
However, the most surprising thing was not the mercenary companies, but that they had also assembled two massive catapults.
At this point, the reason why the Company of the Cat had arrived relatively slowly became clear.
Due to their sheer size, these massive catapults were not enough to launch attacks deep into the city, but they still posed a certain threat.
"Wait, it's not stones."
Viserys looked at the impact points of the Company of the Cat's catapults; they were likely using corpses as projectiles.
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