Chapitre 40: Chapter 40
Beyond Qohor
"What shall we do, Khal Drogo?" asked one of the most influential men in the khalasar, speaking in pure Dothraki.
Drogo, son of Bharbo, was barely under thirty, yet he was perhaps the most powerful Khal of the Dothraki Sea. His khalasar boasted ten thousand men, four thousand of whom were warriors.
Drogo was so wealthy that even his slaves wore golden collars, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak housed two hundred rooms with doors made of cast silver. A strong and fearless warrior, Drogo was an excellent rider.
Standing a head taller than any of his men, Drogo moved with the grace and ease of a panther. His skin was the color of polished copper, his eyes black, and his long mustache framed a braid that fell to his thighs, adorned with bells. Drogo had never lost a duel, and thus had never cut his braid.
"By next morning, we will annihilate these limbless slaves," he said with a smirk, continuing, "We will accomplish what Khal Temma could not, and demonstrate the might of the Great Stallion!"
His words sent a thrill through those around him, but the khal of these people continued:
"We will kill all the men! We will enslave their children! And we will violate their women! We will destroy their temples! We will show them the might of the Dothraki!"
"YESSSS!!!" the crowd of fairly mad horse lords echoed.
At that moment, Khal Drogo pondered how he had achieved all this.
A khal's son, after his father's death in a clash with another khalasar, usually faced a grim fate. Such children could pose a threat to future generations, and given the Dothraki mentality... Slavery was the best of all outcomes, as surviving in slavery was far easier than alone in the endless steppes and deserts of the Dothraki Sea.
Khal Drogo remembered the day he was cast into the Dothraki Sea as if it were yesterday, on a day as scorchingly hot as today. His father, Khal Bharbo, had been killed in a skirmish with another khalasar, and knowing the fate that awaited him, the young Drogo fled into the steppe.
That such a young boy, though a Dothraki, managed to survive was a miracle and a blessing from his ancestors and the Great Stallion. At first, young Drogo licked his wounds among the "haesh rakhi," the most humiliating years of the future khal's life.
Haesh rakhi is a derogatory term used by the Dothraki for the Lhazarene, meaning "lamb people."
The Lhazarene are agrarian, engaging in sheep herding and vegetable cultivation. They are non-warlike, and neighboring peoples regard them with disdain. Yet, in Lhazarene lands, there are cities.
The Supreme God of the Lhazarene is the Great Shepherd. According to their belief, all the people of the world are his flock.
The temple of the Great Shepherd is a massive windowless square building made of raw brick, topped with a dome. In the central hall of the temple, there's a stone altar carved with images of shepherds and flocks. The women serving in the temple are considered the wives of God. They offer prayers to God and burn incense made from leaves, roots, and berries.
The Lhazarene closely resemble the Dothraki, which is unsurprising given the violent nature of the latter... It would be surprising if it were otherwise.
As Drogo grew older, his rise in the hierarchy of the Dothraki began, and quite swiftly, the son of the former khal became a khal himself. Gathering his blood riders, and now commanding a sizeable khalasar, Drogo had never faced defeat and was unlikely ever to... At least, so believed Drogo himself.
Blood riders are the closest bodyguards of Dothraki khals, bound to them by oaths of loyalty. There is a special address used between khals and their blood riders — "Blood of my blood."
Blood riders are not only guards but also constant companions and close friends of the khal, with whom he spends all his time. At feasts, blood riders sit at the places of honor next to the khal, and the khal exchanges commands and jokes with them.
They protect the khal's wife — the khaleesi — and never stray far from her. In some khalasars, a khal may share even his wives with his blood riders, but not his horse. According to ancient customs, blood riders must kill themselves after the death of the khal to accompany him in the Afterlands — as the Dothraki say, "A man and his blood live one life."
If the khal is slain by enemies, the blood riders must first avenge him, then meet their own end. Unfortunately, the blood riders of Drogo's father failed in this task.
They are also duty-bound to fulfill another obligation to the Dothraki people — to escort the khaleesi to Vaes Dothrak, so she may join the dosh khaleen. Blood riders also partake in religious rituals alongside the khal.
"Khal, when shall we begin the attack?" asked Drogo's blood rider named Haggo.
"Blood of my blood, we shall start at dawn," replied Drogo, surprised that Haggo had decided to speak up.
As Haggo was a huge and typically silent Dothraki, he usually did not inquire about the khal's actions. This role was reserved for Kohollo, a man who had sworn fealty to Drogo at the birth of the future khal. Often, Kohollo served as the voice of wisdom among the seasoned.
"We have to wait so long..." grumbled Qwoto, who was the most ruthless of Drogo's blood riders. And this time, he likely dreamt of slaughter.
"Do not worry, you will soon quench your thirst for blood," said Drogo, certain of victory, for the Great Stallion had told him so.
Drogo's first encounter with this mythical figure occurred in his youth when his father died. Then, the Great Stallion showed him the path to greatness, and thus he became a khal who knew no defeat.
A more recent encounter had given him explicit directions and declared that Qohor would be the next step in his ascent to becoming the greatest khal. Specifically, the Great Stallion had said, "After your victory in Qohor, you will become the khal who has broken one of the greatest barriers before your people. Then, by adding the blood of dragon riders, you will sire the one who shall become 'The Stallion Who Mounts the World'."
Mulling over these words again in his mind, Drogo simply smiled contentedly.
"To me is promised greatness..."
Meanwhile, in Qohor
From Daeron's perspective
"Daeron, a vast army is assembling here," Tun, who had been monitoring the entire city situation from above, said to me. His destructive ability would now be merely a hindrance.
"What army?"
The image conveyed by Tun made the blood in my veins freeze, as hostile Dothraki were not part of my plans...
"Damn!"
"Dothraki?!" Dia asked me, having heard the information I received from Tun.
"Yes, these 'horse lords' seem displeased and quite resolute."
Everyone in the room was slightly, or rather, shockingly surprised, for if the Dothraki decided to attack, only ruins would remain.
"But perhaps what has happened could even be to our advantage," I muttered.
"What do you mean?" Avus inquired.
"The city's elite are after us, and if most of them are preoccupied with defense... then we will attract much less attention. Consequently, our chances of slipping away are much higher. The key is to bribe or pass through the guards unnoticed."
My plan had many flaws, but overall, my company agreed with the idea.
After a relatively short time
Soon, we began to quietly move in the opposite direction from the Dothraki horde.
Here and there, people whose fear was beginning to take root could be seen. They believed that the Unsullied would handle the Dothraki as their predecessors had handled Temma, yet a small clot of fear was already forming in their souls. With Empathy, I could distinctly feel this but tried not to focus on it.
It was surprising that there were so many people out at such a time; apparently, all the townspeople understood what was happening.
"Mom, where are we going?"
"Son, I told you we're going for a walk," the mother obviously lied, unable to tell the truth.
"Listen, son, we're just changing cities," the father replied.
The boy, clearly understanding that arguing was futile, silently agreed. It was evident that these people were not poor. If they had been from the lower social strata... they wouldn't even think of fleeing, as the guards simply wouldn't let them through. These people apparently had connections with those in command of the guards.
We then saw how another child, catching the mood of his mother, also transmitted sadness.
"Mom, where's dad?"
"Can I just leave them here and now? How can I be sure that the cultists and others won't abandon the whole city?" I thought, troubled.
"Daeron, are you thinking about these people?" Dia asked me unexpectedly.
"Huh?" I didn't understand the question. "Can you repeat that?"
Dia, looking concerned, repeated:
"Are you worried about what's happening here?"
I just smiled awkwardly and said:
"Was it that obvious?"
Receiving three nods, I sighed in resignation and continued:
"I'm thinking about what will happen to them if we leave here."
To which Avus replied:
"Are you sure you can change anything in this situation?"
"Exactly," supported the target of all cultists, slightly worried. "How can you be sure that your presence here can change anything? Besides, the Unsullied will surely repel these barbarians."
"Maybe it's just my intuition, or maybe I've convinced myself of this, but it seems to me that this time the Dothraki will be able to break through your slaves."
At my words, the woman just looked at me bewildered, probably wondering why I rely on my intuition.
"And besides, how can I call myself a human if, having the ability to help the defenseless, I ignore this opportunity?"
I still couldn't fully discard the teachings from my past life. Moreover, the upbringing by Eddard Stark only reinforced these principles. Of course, my code had been slightly hardened, or more precisely, hardened after all the killings.
"I sometimes don't understand you," Dia sighed.
"Haha... I sometimes don't understand myself."
"In that case, I propose we split up, and one of us will take Feylina, while the other group will ensure the city survives. How does that sound?" Avus asked.
"I don't think it's the best solution... But in the current situation, it's all we have," I thought for a minute then decided who would go where. "Tun will stay with me, and you, Avus, take the rest with Feylina."
"Okay."
Dia clearly wanted to stay with me, but my convincing eyes conveyed the main idea to her.
"Be careful, Daeron."
"Okay, and I almost forgot," I said, pulling out a bracelet for Feylina. "With this, we can communicate with each other even over long distances. You'll be able to use it thanks to that child who has a gift for magic."
Feylina just nodded, clearly tired of being surprised, and she had seen me pull out my weapons before.
"Take care of yourselves too," I managed to say before the others went in the opposite direction from me.
"And the city walls await me..." I thought as I closed the distance to my goal.
Three hours later
For two hours, I had been using birds to observe the situation, and so far, there was a grave silence, as if the calm before the storm.
"Do you really think you can help them?" Tun asked.
"What do you think? If the Dothraki get inside... there will be nothing left of this city. All children will be enslaved, and women, having been violated, will be sent the same way. I'm not ready to be indifferent to such a situation."
Tun said nothing, but through our connection, I could tell that my words had reached him.
"Do you feel that on the wall, besides ordinary people, there are a couple of terrifying ones?"
"Are you talking about the very frightening magic?"
"Exactly. It reminds me of the Black Goat, only I don't know what this magic provides?"
"We just have to wait..."
Meanwhile, as Tun and I were having a rather casual conversation, Fate apparently decided to see some action. For just at that moment, I heard the following:
"THEY'RE ATTACKING!"
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