Chapter Three: Journey through Essos

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The Dothraki Sea, 300 AC

Arthur

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"It was about time, Marston." Arthur laughed as he watched John trying to maintain his balance in the water. The boy was the only one in the gang who didn't know how to swim, and they had decided to do something about that when they reached the river.

"Give me a break, Morgan!" John yelled, trying to come up for air. At least he could float now, he had to give him that.

The attack on Qarth more than a month ago had forced them to get on the offensive, to rally their soldiers and march on the slaver cities. From what Dutch and Hosea told him, a city in the west called Braavos had decided to send troops to assist them, unofficially of course. Then they were divided into groups with a plan to attack the cities from two directions. Daenerys would take the majority of the forces and her dragons towards Astapor and Yunkai, while Arthur's group would meet up with the Braavosi soldiers in the Dothraki country and then move towards Meereen. The ships had dropped them off on a ruined city called Orvik, and from there they made their way north, avoiding the Red Waste and human settlements, eventually reaching the river called Skahazadhan. The names kept getting longer and more difficult to pronounce.

Arthur had a thousand sellswords, some young Dothraki fighters, two hundred riflemen and John and Charles on his side. Barristan and Rakharo had joined as well. Daenerys had given the latter a test to prove his loyalty, which he accepted without question. Dutch and Hosea would stay with the queen, as their brains would be better utilized in organizing the war.

He also met some new and interesting characters among the sellswords. There was Asher Forrester, an exiled lordling from Westeros, and his friend Beskha, the only woman swordfighter in their group. Asher was sent to Essos by his father after having an affair with their enemy's daughter, just like a retelling of Romeo and Juliet, while Beskha was a former slave eager to get back at the masters. They would often go hunting and foraging for supplies, exchanging stories along the way. After living in a desert for the last few months, it was nice to see a river, grasslands and forests for a change. The grass sea looked no different than the prairies back home.

As for Doreah, he had slept with her a few more times after the attack, but she had to remain with her queen. He had come to think of Missandei as a daughter, but she couldn't come as well and went back to being Daenerys' scribe for the time being. Arthur would often think of them both.

"If God wanted me to swim, he would've made me a fish, you know." John dried himself up after his daily lesson.

"Doesn't hurt to know how. Now get ready." he said. They had a long ride ahead of them.


What puzzled Arthur was that there were no proper countries, kingdoms or the like in Essos. Back home the governments guarded their borders, and one couldn't visit other countries without proper documents, at least not legally. Here, you could easily ride hundreds of miles in the open plains without encountering anyone at all, not knowing whose land you ended up on. Even a rich city like Qarth's territory was confined to the walls and the small hinterland. What could be the cause of that?

The other strange thing were the seasons. His friends back in the city had told him that summers and winters could last years at a time, and the current summer had lasted nine years. It was hard to believe, but then again, an unbelievable thing did happen to them months ago. Speaking of that, Arthur's mind went back to the strange white tree for the first time in a long while. He had forgotten the name, and upon asking, Asher Forrester reminded him that it was called a 'weirwood'. He was a 'first man' of a kingdom called the North, just like Mormont, and his people worshipped those trees.

"I don't suppose they grow in these parts." he asked.

"No, my friend. The Old Gods have no sway in the east, and the southron bastards back home cut them all down long ago. Though outside the North, you can find them in Braavos. Those folk keep all kinds of gods." Forrester replied. Arthur made a note to visit the place if he ever got the chance.

"Do ya miss home?"

"I miss my family, but the lawless eastern lands suit me better."

Everything was the other way round in this world. The east was wild and untamed while the west was civilized. Arthur chuckled at the thought.

"Where do your people really come from?" Beskha asked. "I have never heard of a realm called Amerika."

"It's the truth, believe it or not."

"Alright then, keep your secrets." Asher laughed as he took a sip of ale. Arthur missed whiskey and Guarma rum, but all they had was beer, ale and a whole lot of wine. He also had to struggle with a lack of cigarettes and cigars when he first arrived, though the itch to smoke was all gone now. Same was true for everyone in the gang.


After three days of riding, they finally crossed the river. They were now in a dangerous territory, where hordes of the Dothraki roamed freely, ready to attack any unsuspecting traveler and take them as slaves. Though the queen's khalasar was different, Arthur remembered the severed head of her messenger back in the desert and decided to be on his guard, just in case.

North of the river, they encountered a ruined city where they made their new camp. Its walls were torn down, the homes destroyed and pillaged, and the tall grass and vines had consumed all the buildings. It was obvious that it had once been a sprawling settlement filled with activity but was now just a ghost town. In the distance, they could see a few structures that resembled the Egyptian pyramids that Arthur saw on the covers of dime novels. He drew the scene in his journal.

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Three pyramids. Wonder if there's treasure inside.

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"Anybody wanna go inside one of those?" he asked the group.

"Why in seven hells would you want to?" Asher remarked.

"A man's gotta kill time somehow. Besides, I've heard that there's treasure to be found inside pyramids." That got the attention of a few sellswords.

"Count me in." said Charles. Soon, there were ten people in their expedition. Asher, Beskha and John were quick to be persuaded. They might be fighting for a good cause, but outlaws and mercenaries weren't the kind of people to pass up on a good money-making opportunity. At the very least, they wouldn't be robbing from poor folk this time. They left old Barristan to keep their soldiers in check.

They rode towards the largest pyramid, which was thrice as large as the other two.

"It is possible that the Dothraki plundered this pyramid when they laid waste to this city." said Beskha.

"True, but who knows. We might be surprised."

"Why do they go around destroying cities anyway?" John asked.

"The Dothraki don't like settlements. They believe its sinful to plough the earth." Charles answered. He had gone native with the khalasar and could now even speak their language properly.

"And yet they have their own city further up north. So much for sins." Beskha added.

"How much north does Essos go?" It was Arthur's turn to ask.

"Beyond Vaes Dothrak is the Forest of the Ifeqevron, home of strange beings. Then comes the Shivering Sea and the islands of Ibben." Too many names to remember.

"But how much of it is inhabited?" he asked. Somehow, he already knew the answer to that.

"Not much. This part of the world is a warm wasteland. Most people in Essos live in the western cities." said Asher.

"And I suppose the Dothraki are to blame?"

"That is correct. The hordes have waged war on every kingdom in existence, ever since the dragonlords died out. Even the fat, perfumed merchants in the west pay tributes to keep them off their lands."

The threat of a horde won't be good for Daenerys' new country. They had to address this problem at some point. For now, they focused on the task at hand.


The pyramid was a well-made structure and had stood the test of time, though all the glory it might've had in the past was gone. Their group took an hour to find the entrance, which was hidden behind walls of overgrown vines. Once the path was clear, they lit their torches and entered.

"God, the smell!" John covered his nose, and everyone followed suit. It was undoubtedly the smell of rotting carcasses. The air inside was damp and many staircases were broken. They made sure to leave markers whenever they took a turn, for one could easily get lost inside this maze-like structure.

"Will this ever end?" asked Yantel, a captain of the riflemen.

"It must lead somewhere." Arthur replied. "What was this place built for again?"

"The Ghiscari kept them as palaces." the man said. Arthur had expected it to be a tomb like the ones back in Egypt, but a palace might have more treasure, he thought. Soon, they heard someone talking and stopped in their tracks.

"It's coming from that way." Charles pointed at the left turn nearest to their position. Everyone crouched and walked slowly towards it, and at the end they saw light. Someone was there. Arthur pulled his knife out.

"I see five of them." said Charles. The men in front of them were of a large, stocky build, but they couldn't see their faces.

"Alright, we'll take the ones on the right." Arthur looked at two figures in the corner. "Marston! With me."

The men sneaked up on them, using the walls as cover and narrowly avoided getting caught. As it turned out, they weren't prepared for what they were about to see.

"Arthur, look at this!" John exclaimed quietly as they got a closer look at their targets. The men were eating something on the ground. It seemed like an animal carcass at first, but upon further inspection they were horrified. It was a person, being consumed raw. And the men eating the corpse, they were covered in thick fur which wasn't a coat or the like. Their faces resembled beasts more than humans. Just what had they gotten themselves into? Out of nowhere, someone got a jump on Arthur and tackled him to the ground. They had been discovered.

The man attacking him looked like a hell spawn face to face, completely unnatural. His hairy arms tried to strangle Arthur, but he got hold of his knife out and stabbed him in the leg while John pulled him back. The beast shrieked in pain but was not incapacitated. Looking over his shoulder, Arthur could see his companions fighting with the others with their swords, while he and John were left to face this one on their own. He took his revolver out and concentrated hard, marking all the targets in his mind.

Arthur had a strange secret he never told people about, something he was made aware of when he first started out as a gunslinger. If he concentrated hard enough in the heat of a fight, time seemed to slow down for him, as if he had a supernatural power. No one would believe him even if he was to tell them, but that didn't matter.

As time slowed down further, he could hear his own heartbeat getting faster and his vision getting redder. He stretched his arm out and aimed at the beasts, five in the open and one close to him, and began counting as he pulled the trigger.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Six…

When he was done, they all were dead, shot clean in the head. The others looked at him with fascination and fear, the natives that is.

"What the fuck was that?" yelled Asher, clearly not believing what he saw.

"It's a thing he does." John answered for him. "Don't ask how."

"I will never get used to your dragons." Beskha remarked, sheathing her sword.

"Who were these guys?" Arthur asked. "They don't look anything like men."

"These are the brindled men." the woman replied. "They live in the lands far south, but how did they come here?"

"Let's just look for what we came for." said Charles. "We don't want to stay here any longer than we have to." Agreeing with that, the group moved on. They saw a few more corpses eaten by these strange folk, along with some bones left over. If dragons and man-eating monsters were real in this place, what else could be real? Arthur didn't even dare to imagine that.


They walked past a few more corridors until they reached a large chamber.

"This must be their master's chambers." Yantel said. The room was empty save for a bed without covers and was full of dust and cobwebs.

"Check everywhere, see if there are any hidden compartments."

They began tapping on the walls and scanning the floor. The large volume of dust made their hands dirty, but they eventually found something.

"Here, help me with this." Charles had discovered a hatch on the floor when he moved the furniture to the side. It took four of them to open it using a rope, as it was made of stone. It revealed a staircase that led further down. It looked cramped, so only those four entered. The flight of stairs didn't go too deep, and they were met with what they hoped for.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we found it."

The room was filled with gold and silver items, along with a large chest. The wall was decorated by a fresco, depicting a formation of soldiers with spears and shields. On instinct, Arthur drew the scene.

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Thanks to whoever was kind enough to leave all this for us.

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Asher, Beskha and Charles gathered the treasures in their bags while Arthur broke the chest's lock with his knife. It was not much, only a book and a few pieces of jewelry which he put in his own bag. There was one thing at the bottom though, covered with a fine cloth. He took it out to reveal a beautiful blade. It was too short for a sword, though it looked like one, but too long to be a dagger. A machete, more like it. Though what made it special was how light it felt in his hand, and the steel had a unique pattern of ripples.

"Let's go." came the voice of his friend and he collected the things.


Their group was annoyed at first, but the sight of treasures made them change their tunes really fast. It had been a few hours since their departure and they reached back to the camp just in time before noon. On their way, they saw bodies of a few more of those brindled men, and the sellswords were cleaning the blood off their blades. There had been a fight.

"What happened?" he asked Barristan.

"We were ambushed." the man replied, looking over at the carnage. "Nothing we could not handle, but this place is not safe."

"How many did we lose?"

"A few. We buried them close."

"Alright everyone. Let's pack up and leave." Arthur commanded the soldiers, and some commanders translated the order in their own language. In an hour, they were mounted up and rode out in speed. It was a strange city, and no one wanted to visit again.

"I wanted to ask you something." Arthur asked Barristan as they rode side by side. He took out the strange blade and handed it to him.

"This is Valyrian steel!" the knight was shocked. "I suppose you found it in the pyramid?"

"That's right. Know anything about it?"

"Weapons of this kind are very rare, and new ones have not been made since the Doom of Valyria. You will not find a better blade anywhere. Men have been known to pay a fortune for them."

That was interesting.


After the incident back in the city, they decided to stay away from even abandoned settlements as they moved further northwest. Who knows what dangers would be lurking around? The army from Braavos could be arriving any moment, and they had yet to receive a message from Daenerys.

As they went deeper into Dothraki country, the forests disappeared entirely to give way for grasslands as far as the eye could see. The ground was completely flat, covered in short and tall grass. They had only encountered a few herders on the way, who fled at the sight of an approaching army. They did manage to convince a few to trade with them, offering gold or wine in exchange for some goats.

Arthur decided that he liked this place. Without the hordes it would be a perfect place for people to settle down. It wasn't like the wild west with all its snowy mountains, scorching deserts or gruesome forests.

He ventured further from the camp one day, accompanied by John and Charles. They needed a moment away from the noise.

"Sometimes I still can't believe what we've gotten ourselves into." Charles began.

"Yeah, the feeling is mutual. What do you really think about this place?"

"It's better than the desert, that's for sure." John answered. "And we don't have to worry about the lawmen on our ass all the time."

"Us, on the legitimate side of things for once. Who would've thought?" Arthur snorted.

"It's good to not have folk who call you a savage." said Charles. "But are we gonna do this all our life? Fighting in wars for the queen?"

"I suppose we can just retire after this war. If God brought us here, it has to be for a reason. We can't just leave those slaves like that."

"Where will we go then?" John asked. "We can't go back home, if Dutch and Hosea are right, and we don't know anything about this new land."

Arthur hadn't thought about that yet. Maybe Daenerys would compensate them for their service when it was all done, but the question remained.

"What do ya'll wanna do?"

"I could start a family here." Charles replied. "Find a woman, have children. They won't grow up like I did."

Arthur too had grown attached to some people here, namely Missandei and Doreah. Would he go back to them?

"You can't leave." John said to Charles. "We have to stick close." There was logic in that. They might've come from different places and met under less-than-ideal circumstances, but they were in this together. Deciding to change the topic, he talked about other things.

"I used six bullets last time. We need to be careful with our old ammunition."

"You don't need to do all the fighting yourself." Charles stated. "We have an army now. We can just command."

"That's well and good, but…" he was interrupted by a distant sound. "Listen."

The trio stopped talking and listened. The sound was getting louder by the second, and it sounded like galloping horses. They knew what it was.

"We need to warn the others! Let's go!" he pulled Boadicea's reins and they sprinted towards the camp. It took them a few minutes.


"Get ready!" he yelled at the people when they arrived. Asher and Beskha had already gotten into battle formation with their men, while the others were on their way.

"Any tips for fighting a horde?" Arthur asked his companion as the sound grew louder, adding the screams of the riders in the mix. Living as an outlaw, he only had to face ten or twenty people at most during a fight, but this would be different.

"The Dothraki are a superstitious lot." said Asher. "Their Khal and his bloodriders ride at the front. Kill them and the horde will scatter, though it will not be much of an issue with your dragons."

"They can still kill us while we reload." Charles added. "Better not take any chances."

The sellswords had formed a shield wall and picked up their lances. The riflemen took their positions, aiming at the direction of the sound. Some of them were shaking with fear, they had been enslaved once by the Dothraki after all.

"Don't get frightened now." he told Yantel and a few other riflemen. "They can't stop your bullets." The man nodded.

On the horizon of the grass field, they could now see the horde. It was a big one, unlike the queen's khalasar. The riders were screaming and ululating as they approached. Arthur took his binoculars out and spotted archers among them. They couldn't let them get too close.

"Alright everyone, remember your training and don't lose hope." Arthur instructed the riflemen. "Wait for my command."

The riders came closer…and closer…and closer…

"FIRE!"

Fifty men in the front fired at the horde. They couldn't see how many were hit, but the sound sent the horses in the front in a state of panic, following which they toppled their riders off and ran away. Soon, the riders in the back collided with their fallen brothers and fell off as well.

It was a golden opportunity for their army.

"March forward!" a captain yelled in Valyrian, and the spearmen ran towards the fallen riders, impaling them before they could stand. The archers rained arrows on them, killing some riflemen and sellswords. The horde warriors were on their feet now.

Another fifty riflemen fired on their targets, taking care to avoid any friendly fire. While some were unfazed, many warriors were running away, shouting some words in their language.

"They are calling us demons." Charles translated. Forrester was right, the Dothraki were a superstitious lot after all.

The battle was far from over. The ones who stayed behind were still a sizeable force, and the sellswords had to do most of the fighting now while the riflemen reloaded. Rakharo and Charles were engaged in single combat, and Barristan was fighting three riders at once, his skills outmatching theirs. Arthur took a rifle from a soldier and took aim at the largest ones. The matchlock guns were not completely accurate, but they dealt more damage than their old guns. He had seen the bodies of the fallen slavers back in Qarth, and it looked like the bullets had smashed their ribs inside.

The Dothraki fought like men possessed, with no fear of death. It was like sport to them. But the sellswords had armor on, and larger swords.

Arthur pulled two pistols out this time, each contained eight rounds and he had to make every shot count. He focused on six archers behind their shield wall, five warriors attacking the gang and five men on horses who were cutting their men down. He took a deep breath and concentrated again. Time slowed down, and he could see their heads clearly, painted red as if they were targets. Then he pulled the triggers.

The sixteen targets fell one by one. They never knew what hit them. Arthur felt dizzy, as he had never killed so many people at once before. It took a minute for him to regain his composure.

"AH!" he heard John's scream and turned towards him. It looked like he had been hit by an arrow and was lying on the ground. A warrior was walking towards him, ready to strike. Arthur ran as fast as he could and tackled him to the ground. This man looked different than the others, as his hair was braided in many different ways.

Without their weapons, the two men engaged in a brutal fist fight. Arthur was strong, hitting him hard in the chest and face, but the Dothraki was fast and dodged many strikes, landing some hits of his own. He was in a bloodlust, yelling and hitting like a madman whenever he got the chance. Arthur grappled him before he reached for his knife and bound his hands, but the man was too strong and quickly broke free from his grasp, punching him again in the ribs. Arthur felt fatigue take over him, but he stood his ground and grabbed the man's throat, trying to suffocate him. He was hit again at this sides but refused to let go.

Then a blade ran through the mouth of the Dothraki, and blood gushed out in a large volume. Someone had stabbed his head from the back. As his now lifeless body fell down, Arthur got a look at Charles, who held his hand out and picked him up.

"Thanks for that. I thought he had me for sure."

"Don't mention it." said Charles. "Let's check on John first."

They went over to John's position and found him still breathing. The arrow had narrowly missed its mark and grazed the right side of his face, leaving a long scar. He would live.

Behind them they heard the fighting stop. They had lost a more than a hundred men in the fight, while the Dothraki lost more. The members of the horde were looking at their direction, where the braided man fell. Rakharo went towards the body and laughed.

"Andal…This is Khal Pono."

Arthur was sure that he had heard that name somewhere, but he couldn't recall where. Rakharo talked with Charles who then translated for him.

"He was once a bloodrider to the Queen's husband. Then he turned on her. Rakharo says he might have killed Aggo, her messenger."

"I see. What happens next."

"We killed his other bloodriders as well, so I guess his people are now ours."

In the distance, the warriors were cutting their braids off and leaving them on the feet of their opponents. Charles explained that it was a custom when a khalasar was defeated. The Dothraki followed the powerful, and after their leader's death they would switch sides.

"How many are they?" he asked.

"More than five hundred. The rest fled away."

"Can we trust them?"

"Not completely, but they are like common soldiers. Without their Khal they won't have any reason to attack us." Charles answered. "Though this was only a small part of his khalasar. We need to be on the lookout for more of them."

The addition of five hundred more men wouldn't hurt, Arthur thought.

"Very well, but let's keep an eye on them for the time being." Charles nodded.


They took time to burn the bodies of their fallen soldiers. Many of them were riflemen, who had finally overcome their fear and died for what they believed in. John was sent to their healer's camp. He had come very close to dying as well.

"All in all, a successful battle." Barristan said. He had killed his share of Dothraki riders. How a man of his age could still fight so well, Arthur didn't understand.

"Daenerys would like to know about this Khal. Let's send her the message."

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Notes: Please do leave a review on any chapter you read, even if it's criticism. It will make the story better in future.