"Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo." The mournful sound of bugles echoed across the plains, the earth repeatedly torn apart by the iron hooves of warhorses, those of the Twin Cities' cavalry and the Dothraki Screamers. The battlefield was scarred deeply, corpses strewn across every inch of land.
"Khal is dead."
"The Khal is dead!" With Khal Drogo's death, his khalasar had completely fallen apart.
The Dothraki had wasted too much time behind their sturdy shield wall, now, the Khal's death had utterly shattered their morale. They wanted nothing more than to flee.
"It's on fire." Even more terrifying to the Dothraki Screamers was the sight ahead: flames rose before Myr, thick black smoke curling and surging into the blue sky. The cavalry led by Red Viper charged into the rear camp of Drogo's khalasar, killing and setting fire.
The rear camp held Dothraki women, children, and slaves, along with the wealth the Dothraki had painstakingly amassed. Once attacked, the Screamers locked in combat at the front were thrown into utter chaos, completely unsure of what to do.
The Twin Cities' cavalry swept forward like a black tide, slicing through the Dothraki lines. Seven thousand heavy cavalry, four thousand light cavalry, and over a thousand vassal Dothraki Roaring Knights, this was the strongest cavalry force in Gendry's army.
The infantry led by Greywolf and Steel Fist, the main cavalry under Gendry, and the reserve knights led by Gylo advanced together in a crescent formation, crushing all opposition. Some Dothraki Screamers fell to swords, others were trampled under hooves, and others were struck by arrows, their defeat was swift and total.
Facing them, Gendry watched the enemy's chaotic formation. The panicked Dothraki had no thought left to claim Khal Drogo's body, in this battle, he would emerge victorious in spectacular fashion.
The advantage lay in the battlefield and initiative. Heavy cavalry excelled in head-on clashes, while the Dothraki thrived on speed and mobility. Had this fight taken place on the open plains, Gendry could not have expected to defeat Drogo so easily. But with fortified defenses, scorched earth, and a surprise attack, he wielded the perfect tactic.
"Surrender and live!"
"Surrender and live!" the standard-bearers shouted. The four banners on their bamboo poles, the warhammer, the three-headed dragon, the freed slave, and the Wolf Pack, fluttered vividly.
Yet the Dothraki were a cruel and brave people, many chose death over surrender.
The cavalry led by Gendry, Longspear, and others cut through them like farmers harvesting wheat, wave after wave, but these harvests claimed lives, not crops.
Gendry wielded two weapons: a spiked warhammer and an Arakh curved blade. He had started with the warhammer, but later came to prefer the savage sharpness of the Arakh. Forged from Valyrian steel, it gleamed like a cold waning moon as it swept across the terrified faces of the Dothraki, leaving only death behind.
"Along with Drogo, the finest Dothraki Screamers have perished," Gendry thought. Many young, strong Screamers fell to his weapons, yet these young men remained loyal to Khal Drogo to their last breath.
"Kill! Kill the fighters," Gendry said coldly. The battlefield allowed no mercy, the fight had to end swiftly.
"Long live the Warhammer!"
"Long live the Warhammer!"
"Long live Lord Gendry!" The battlefield roared, a brutal symphony of clashing steel, cries of the dying, and pounding hooves.
Gendry rode across the field. Horses on their last legs lifted their heads and roared, the wounded groaned or prayed. Medics with white badges appeared, bandaging the injured.
He comforted soldiers where he could, holding their hands and asking their final wishes.
Gendry instructed the military judge to record the names of these warriors, men who had fought for his cause and for the future of the Twin Cities Alliance. He needed to remember them. In a strict army, respect and care were all he could give these soldiers.
After the battle, the area before the Myr Wall had become a meat grinder. Every inch was soaked with blood, which darkened after flowing for so long. Dying horses, men gasping for life, Arakhs and arrows stuck in the earth, severed heads and braids of Dothraki, all bore witness to the war's brutality.
Gendry removed his helmet, revealing jet-black hair and deep blue eyes. With helmet and visor off, he was a handsome, well-groomed young man, eyes clear and captivating, his body radiating strength.
"Maintain discipline on the battlefield. I brought out the Wolf Pack, the Free Company, and the Second Sons, their order is beyond question. Only my vassal knights and the Dothraki warriors may still retain their wild nature," Gendry said to Jorah. "If there is any burning, killing, or plundering, you know how to handle it."
"Yes, Lord." Jorah nodded. "I understand." He wore a dark green cloak over his armor, his iron gauntlets, knee guards, and greathelm forged from black steel. When it came to the Dothraki, he was the most knowledgeable.
Anguy grinned, holding a double-curved Dragonbone longbow, the weapon of Qotho, one of Drogo's Bloodriders, now given to him by Gendry, along with the Bloodrider's steed.
Gendry had gained even more. War was the quickest path to wealth, Drogo's steed, the golden belt, the gold-handled whip, even his own head, all now spoils of Gendry's victory.
The battle had raged for nearly half a day, and by evening, Gendry could finally see the fruits of his labor. A Longspear was planted in the ground not far from him, and Khal Drogo's head, now riddled with holes, still hung from its tip.
What was jarring, however, was the sight of several gallows erected behind Drogo's head, upon which the Dothraki vassal knights who had disobeyed orders and engaged in wanton killing and plundering had already been hung.
Myr, the bureaucrat from Tyrosh, the envoys from Qohor, Norvos, and the Free Cities of Saath, and Ordello, the governor of Pentos, all arrived on the battlefield trembling. The battlefield was bloody, cold, and merciless, but what struck them with even greater dread was the head of Khal Drogo.
Though Drogo was dead, his legacy remained, still as mighty as a lion in its prime. More terrifying than Drogo himself were the warriors before them, the highest peak beyond the mountains. One Khal had already struck fear into their hearts, yet here stood someone who towered even above him.
"We're missing the people of Braavos and Lorath, as well as the Lyseni and Volantenes." Gendry looked at the subordinates and neighbors before him, all wearing forced smiles. He held sway over Tyrosh, Myr, and the Stepstones. No one dared to offend Pentos. Although Norvos and Qohor also had slaves, they were far from the Twin Cities. The Dothraki posed the greatest threat, and among the Free Cities with slavery, these two did not rank highly, nor were they central to the slave trade.
As for the Free Cities that had not arrived, Lys and Volantis, they enslaved many people and had taken in noble fugitives from the Twin Cities. Now they were deeply concerned about Gendry's attack, so the two sides were at odds. Braavos's silence and ambiguous stance was mainly due to the Old Sealord being gravely ill and likely preoccupied with other matters.
"Lord, congratulations on your great victory," said the obese Magister Ordello, his face beaming like a humble servant or steward.
"Indeed, indeed. This is truly a victory without parallel in history," the envoy from Saath added, fawning.
"Indeed."
"Indeed. Only a great man like Lord Commander Gendry could achieve such a feat," the Qohorik continued, offering flattery.
Gendry cast a glance at them, his gaze sweeping the assembly with unmatched grandeur. Whether it was the Magister of Pentos with his crossed beard and gem-studded rings, the sullen Qohor envoy, or the bearded Norvos priests, all stood before him with utmost deference, not daring to utter a word out of turn.
The high officials and nobles of these Free Cities felt a wave of weakness and powerlessness in his presence, an involuntary urge to kneel. Pirates like Bloodbeard, Horselords, and Magisters, these failures had forged Gendry's reputation. It was a brutal display of raw power and authority. The old king had fallen, and the new king had ascended.
"I am delighted to work with you all," Gendry addressed the assembly. "I am confident that the civilized Free Cities will support my noble cause against the barbaric Dothraki."
"Yes. Yes. Yes."
"Pentos is willing to offer the Lord Commander the necessary provisions and gifts," Magister Ordello spoke on behalf of Pentos. "I guarantee the Lord Commander will be satisfied."
"We are willing as well."
"We are willing as well," the envoys from Qohor, Norvos, and Saath replied. For these Free Cities, spending wealth to ward off disaster was customary. Just as they had once offered gifts to the Dothraki, they now offered gifts to Gendry.
"Should the Lord Commander journey to Westeros to assert his and Princess Daenerys's claim to the throne, Pentos will offer its full support," Magister Ordello promised generously.
"So will we."
"So will we."
Gendry also appreciated their attitude. Who would turn down money and supplies? Everyone understood the unspoken truth. Moreover, the Free Cities' tolerance stemmed from Gendry's intention to claim the Iron Throne. In that sense, having already absorbed two Free Cities was a sign of his growing ambition. Cities like Pentos were willing to offer wealth and supplies to lure Gendry into the quagmire of war in Westeros, thereby easing the pressure of his expansion in Essos.
A series of soft, rhythmic hoofbeats shattered the flattery of the Free Cities' envoys. The surrendered Dothraki warriors rode up to the front of Gendry's lines, cut off their braids, and tossed them at his feet. The Dothraki had lost with true conviction, not to the Unsullied, but to a new Khal.
"Riders of the world's finest steeds."
"Warhammer Khal." The dejected Dothraki Screamers leapt from their horses and knelt not far from Gendry. Khal Drogo had already fallen, defeated by a stronger, more powerful Khal. Submission to the strongest, that was Dothraki law.
Gendry looked at these Dothraki. With training, the Screamers could be formidable, but like Drogo, many were stubborn and narrow-minded, useful only as cavalry and cannon fodder on the battlefield.
"Khal, Khal." Following the Screamers, the "Jaqqa rhan," those wielding heavy axes to relieve the wounded, also came forward to surrender, followed by young girls who had been pulling arrows from corpses for reuse.
"Since you have acknowledged me as Khal, you must heed my commands and obey my orders," Gendry told them.
"Yes, Khal."
"As you command."
These spoils were what Gendry found most satisfying: a fully organized force of Dothraki Screamers. Even though some of Drogo's Screamers had fled, died, or were wounded, after a strict purge, he could still field a Screamer Cavalry of about ten thousand men. The remaining wounded and children would have to wait until they were trained before being incorporated into his forces.
Later, Red Viper drove a large number of prisoners to Gendry's side; these had been taken from the main khalasar camp. Even in defeat and enslavement, the women and children of Drogo's khalasar walked with a defiant dignity. There were few men among them, and those who remained were cripples, cowards, or elderly men. Drogo's rear khalasar camp had been poorly defended, making it impossible to withstand the surprise attack led by Red Viper.
"I have captured Drogo's rear khalasar camp and taken most of the people under my control. But I'm sorry—I failed to stop two of his Ko from escaping. Drogo's two Ko, Pono and Jhaqo, took some women and children with them as they fled," Red Viper said apologetically.
"It matters not. You have done well enough, Prince," Gendry replied. Red Viper's raiding force numbered only two or three thousand men; securing a rear camp was already a formidable task, and if the Dothraki had fled at full speed, they could not have been stopped. After all, the Dothraki Screamers wore no heavy armor, and their horsemanship was unmatched.
The Dothraki under Drogo had been cowed by their defeats. Even Pono and Jhaqo likely dared not look westward; they fled only across the Dothraki Sea.
"I offer this to you, Lord Commander," Red Viper said, then had his men present a white lion pelt, hunted by Drogo in the Dothraki Sea.
"This white lion pelt is fine; it would make a splendid tapestry for the walls," Gendry said, accepting the gift with a smile.
"I have already sealed away the gold, grain, horses, and other supplies in the khalasar camp," Red Viper added in a low voice, showing true integrity.
"I will be grateful for the Prince's friendship," Gendry said, regarding Red Viper. The man was indeed honorable.
"Do you think I would treat you as slaves?" Gendry asked the defeated women and children. Many mothers wore expressionless, lifeless faces, staggering as they dragged their sobbing children along.
A look of terror immediately spread across their faces. The Dothraki were used to accepting their fate, yet they realized that this Khal would grant them a different destiny.
"No, I will not treat you with brutality. You are my people, and you shall be free."
As darkness fell, the soldiers continued to celebrate west of the Wall at Myr, building bonfires to honor this great victory.
Soon, however, Gendry received a new visitor. Qyburn had come personally from Myr.
"What has happened?" Gendry asked.
"It is urgent; you must see for yourself," Qyburn whispered. "Prince Viserys, Prince Viserys may have…"
…
On the road from Myr to the Dothraki Sea, the defeated Dothraki wandered like stray dogs, living in constant fear. Pono—now known as Khal Pono—stood there.
Khal Pono glared furiously at the priestess before him. "You deceived us. You tricked Drogo into believing he could win the war."
The sorceress had been taken as a prize of war by Drogo's khalasar when it raided a small tribe. She had also prophesied Drogo's great victory at the Battle of Myr, foretelling that he would ride the world's finest steed.
The witch gazed coldly at the sky. "You plundered my village; I could only give you this answer."
"I'll kill you," Khal Pono said furiously, his eyes seeming to spit fire.
This poor, nameless village witch was dragged behind the horses until she was dragged to death while still alive .