Early morning, the plains outside Myr.
The sky was as blue as polished lapis, and the plains beyond Myr stretched endlessly. The sunlight at this hour was gentle, not harsh, filling the air with a refreshing calm.
Yet the plains of Myr carried the unmistakable scent of blood. The bodies of Dothraki and their warhorses, slain in battle, were scattered everywhere before the walls of the city.
Gendry stood on the ramparts of Myr, flanked by Anguy, the Red Viper, Jorah, Greywolf, and others.
The Dothraki had launched relentless assaults for days, yet they had been unable to breach the fortress of Myr, let alone the city beyond. Small-scale night raids by the Myrmans made the Dothraki's efforts even more painful.
The moment for action came suddenly. Gendry sensed that the Dothraki were utterly exhausted, their morale gradually crumbling, holding out only from fear of Khal Drogo.
"The defenses of Myr are formidable. I entrust them to you, Ser Jorah."
"Rest assured, Lord Commander," Jorah replied crisply. Ser Jorah was no handsome man; his neck and shoulders were like a bull's, his arms and chest thickly covered with coarse black hair, while his head was bare. Yet on the battlefield, he inspired confidence.
"How are the preparations coming along?" Gendry asked Greywolf.
Greywolf, commander of the Free Company, had very short brown hair. His face was stern, expression resolute, his build stocky and of average height. Though only in his twenties, Greywolf was already a highly loyal and capable Unsullied officer.
"Ready, Lord," Greywolf answered. The orderly ranks of the Twin Cities infantry were in position.
Though Greywolf still wore his spiked helmet, he had donned fine black scale armor and a quarter-flag cloak. His spear was sharp and gleaming, casting a cold, shimmering light.
"We now have fifteen hundred Unsullied, plus Lord Steel Fist's two thousand heavy infantry."
"Very good." Gendry was satisfied. These over a thousand Unsullied had been gathered with difficulty—some had defected to him, some were Dothraki Unsullied, and others had been sent by the Qohorik and Pentos.
"Since Khal Drogo wants to face us in open combat, I'll grant him his wish, but on my terms."
After receiving his orders, Greywolf and Steel Fist marched down from Myr. Moments later, the gates opened slowly, and three thousand five hundred infantry emerged, forming their prepared rectangular formation.
The soldiers wore uniform black scale armor and black-backed quarter-flag cloaks, though their helmets differed. The Unsullied at the front wore spiked helmets, while the other heavily armored soldiers wore flat-topped helmets.
Gendry looked down at the scene. For Khal Drogo, seeing the Unsullied shield wall was a formidable challenge. He could not be unaware of what had happened years ago: at the foot of Qohor, Khal Temmo had failed to break the Unsullied shield wall and had ultimately died, his clan wiped out.
"If Khal Drogo leads the charge himself, cease firing the catapults and keep them fully engaged on the battlefield."
"Yes," Jorah replied.
After a tense moment of silence, a thunderous roar erupted from the Dothraki camp. Khal Drogo could not resist the temptation, nor could he endure the loss of prestige from retreat; he would go all out.
Khal Drogo strode ahead of the Dothraki knights on a blood-red steed. The Dothraki roar grew ever louder.
True to his reputation as the mightiest Khal, Drogo towered above the others. His mere presence bolstered their morale. His braids were black and glossy as midnight, anointed with oil so they seemed heavy, adorned with small metal bells that jingled with every move. His hair fell past his waist, brushing lightly against his thighs.
"Kill them! Kill these cowards!" Drogo shouted, brandishing his Arakh scimitar. The Dothraki knights surged forward, charging toward the rock-solid shield wall.
...
Drogo had seen through Gendry's deployment, yet he was still willing to confront the Unsullied cavalry again. At Myr, he had already wasted considerable time, suffering heavy losses without even glimpsing the city gates. To leave now would ruin his reputation.
"Let's go, Prince. Our battle isn't here," Gendry said to the Red Viper. Seeing Khal Drogo charge forward like a wild beast with his cavalry, Gendry felt his own tension ease.
The Red Viper was taken aback. He had expected Gendry to follow the tactics of the Battle of Qohor, letting the Unsullied shield wall wear down the Dothraki, yet Gendry had devised a new stratagem.
The Red Viper moved with Gendry and Anguy as they descended from the walls, more cavalry waiting below for them.
"So many horsemen." The Red Viper first saw a forest of armored riders—the hidden killers. At the forefront were cavalry clad in black heavy armor, their plates gleaming in the sun like Steel Fists. The armor was thick and commanded by a Longspear officer. The standard-bearer unfurled a black banner adorned with four different crests.
Red Viper also spotted some light cavalry, numbering roughly four thousand, led by Gylo Rhegan, former captain of the Long Lances. There was also a contingent of Dothraki savages—Khal Zekko's men—now pledged to Gendry.
"All these cavalry combined amount to over ten thousand," Red Viper roughly calculated, awed by the sheer scale of the force. Just the seven thousand heavily armored riders before them must have cost a fortune, and judging by Gendry's demeanor, reserves were still ready to support. Mobilizing ten thousand heavy cavalry was an almost unimaginable number; the limitation lay not in armor, but in training.
"Lord Commander." Longspear, Gylo, and the others had been waiting.
"Khal!" "Khal!" A thunder of Dothraki shouts rose from the remaining barbarians. They remained unarmored, a headache to command.
"You will follow Lord Gylo's orders," Gendry commanded.
"Yes." "Yes." The Dothraki, fearing him like a predator, now obeyed without question.
"Gylo, lead a thousand light cavalry and a thousand heavy cavalry here. Command these Dothraki as a reserve. Once we encircle them from both flanks, you will strike."
"Yes, Lord Commander."
"Move out."
The remaining knights followed Gendry along the long wall to a temporary dock north of Myr, by the sea, long out of the Dothraki's view.
The Dothraki had always feared the sea, and with ships moving daily, their scouts had lost interest. This was a critical moment for their assault on the Unsullied shield wall; naturally, they could not imagine a fleet arriving.
Red Viper saw a striking fleet of warships, large and small, like a constellation. Quarter-flags fluttered as the ships slowly approached the dock.
"Is this the gift you've prepared for the Dothraki?" Red Viper asked, taking in the imposing fleet and realizing the counteroffensive plan: a combined land and sea assault.
"Yes," Gendry replied. "Victory at Qohor was sweet, but I aim to do even better."
The Unsullied shield wall was, at best, static and immovable. True mobility and striking power relied on cavalry charges.
Adhering to tradition while striking with innovation—this was Gendry's strategy. The fleet would split into two columns at close range, ferrying cavalry to flank behind Khal Drogo and the khalasar.