Vaes Dothrak, 300 AC
Arthur
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Here they were at last, after many days of non-stop riding and killing a dozen parties- the heart of Dothraki country. The region was dry and filled with tall hills, which in turn had large caves. Their forces had taken shelter in many of those caves, with riflemen posted on the entrance to watch for any rider that picked a bad time to get lost. Six people exited their hiding spot, dressed in clothes that helped them blend in with the people in these parts. Arthur, Charles, Barristan, Rakharo, Asher and Beskha followed the trail that led to the lone mountain. It stood over the countryside, casting a large shadow on the city in front of it- Vaes Dothrak. There was a lake in the background, perhaps the only source of water for miles.
"Alright, Rakharo." said Arthur. "What can ya tell us about this place?"
"Vaes Dothrak is…sacred city, gathering place for Khals." Rakharo replied. His English was much better after months of staying with them "They will take… John to the Dosh Khaleen."
"What is that?"
"A gathering of crones. The Khaleesi of dead Khals." Beskha answered.
After a few minutes of riding, they reached the top of a hill, where the view was much better. Vaes Dothrak did not have the look of a city, more like an overgrown town. The grass was drier, which made it resemble Armadillo or Tumbleweed. Looking through the binoculars, Arthur noticed that the houses were made of mud and straw, not wood and bricks. At the entrance, there was a statue of two rearing horses, with guards posted.
"That the place?" Arthur pointed at the largest tent in the middle.
"Yes. Dosh Khaleen."
"What's the plan?" Charles asked.
"We have to go in first." said Arthur. "Charles and Rakharo, you come with me. The rest of you, hide somewhere safe and wait for our signal."
"They…recognize me." Rakharo reminded them. Of course they would. One of them had already sent the head of Daenerys' man long ago.
"Well, in that case Barristan can come. We'll have to go in blind."
"What do we have to do?" Barristan asked, getting his sword ready.
"Sneak in. Three riders are less suspicious than six."
With that, the three men ride down the hill, looking for a way to enter the city. Arthur looked around with his binoculars but found that the security was much tighter. There were many guards at every point of entrance, making the city impenetrable. He was of half a mind to come back after the sun set, but an opportunity presented itself. In the form of a broken wagon of a merchant.
"Look there." he instructed his companions. The merchant was alone, trying to fix a broken wheel on his own. "That gentleman is our ticket inside."
"Do you think he'll help?" Charles asked.
"He will if he owes us something. Now listen. We need to put up an act, like the one you did back in Qarth, old man."
"I understand." Barristan laughed.
"We will need different names. You will be Arstan, my grandfather and a frail old man. Charles, you will be…" he struggled to think of a name. "Mossador, our local guide." he remembered the name of Missandei's brother.
"What will you be?" they inquired. Arthur grinned.
"I'll be Tacitus Kilgore." Old Dutch and Hosea had taught him a few tricks. Time to put them to use. They rode towards the wagon, hiding their weapons and playing their part. The merchant had given up on moving the wheel, so they took the opportunity to sneak up behind him. He looked like a white man, so he might know some English, or the Common Tongue.
"Good morning, sir. I see you have a problem there." Arthur began.
"Oh! I seem to have rode my wagon into a ditch, and I do not have the strength to pull it out." the merchant said.
"No worries, we'll help." He got off and Charles followed. "Ready Mossador?"
"Ready."
Charles pulled the wagon up, just enough to get the wheel free, and Arthur aligned it into the cart's wooden rod. Then they pushed it out of the ditch.
"Here ya go."
"My thanks to you, good man. I should have taken my wife's advice and brought my son with me." the man mused. "I suppose you will be wanting some payment."
"Oh no, not at all. It was just basic courtesy."
"Is that so? It is rare to find honest men in this part of the world, with all that war business in the south. Are you bound for Vaes Dothrak by any chance?"
"Yes, I am travelling with my grandfather. We come from Qarth." said Arthur. "We can travel together if you don't mind. The roads can be treacherous."
"I agree. Let us be off then."
The cart and three horses followed the dirt road towards the horse statues. From this angle, there was a certain wild appeal to the city, one untouched by civilization. They spent the time chatting with the man, to avoid any suspicion.
"I am Gessio of Pentos, currently conducting business in New Ibbish."
"I'm Tacitus Kilgore, and he's my grandfather Arstan. We are just some travellers looking for adventure. You have already met Mossador."
"That I have, quite a strong man." Gessio said. "How fares Qarth? I have not come across any Qartheen to tell me of the dragon queen. Are the tales true?"
"We were not in the city at that time, but my sister writes that the tales are indeed true."
"Gods be good! The return of the dragons never bodes well for anyone."
They passed through the gates, under the watchful eyes of the guards. Arthur and Charles had hidden their pistols and revolvers under the merchant's wagon when he wasn't looking, only leaving their knives and swords. The Dothraki checked the wagon, only to find some whale oil and other things, and allowed them to pass. Beyond the gates, there were many interesting things to be seen. There were rows and rows of statues, made of marble and bronze, depicting animals, nude ladies, insects. Some were a work of art, others just a poor attempt by amateurs. Arthur sketched some of them in his journal, including the horse statues at the gates.
"The idols of fallen kingdoms." Gessio told them. "The Dothraki are fond of bringing them here."
"Do you see any of your own?" Barristan asked.
"Not yet fortunately, but I can see a few of the Ibbenese."
After the sight of the idols, they went straight towards the market districts, which were quite busy. Lots of slaves on auction and wine sellers, just like Qarth before they had made some major changes. A few riders were making their way towards the largest tent in the middle.
"Khal Jhaqo has returned to the city." the merchant continued. "And I have it on good authority that the masters of Slaver's Bay will be arriving any time."
"The masters?" Arthur was surprised, but then thought hard. That entire plot of stealing John and their rifles seemed to make much more sense now. Those slavers had been out of business ever since Daenerys entered the scene. They could never beat their guns, so they had made a deal with the hordes. Interesting.
"Well, I'm afraid we'll have to take our leave now. It was nice talking to you."
"I say the same. I hope we meet again soon."
They took their leave and began exploring the city on their own, retrieving the guns from the wagon. "The plot thickens. At least we know who's behind this now." Arthur told his companions.
"Should we wait till it gets dark?" Charles asked. "Much easier to get close to that tent."
"Sounds good."
The city had uneven buildings, and no two ever looked the same. Most were empty. In fact, the entire city seemed abandoned except for a few soldiers here and there. Hiding their horses nearby, they scouted for a place to rest, near the large tent. They soon found one, and sneaked in. The hut smelled of shit, and they had to cover their noses with their scarves.
"So, we have had a good view of the place." Arthur began, showing them a map he had quickly drawn from memory. "After we find John, we can head back and bring in the cavalry."
"You mean to sack this city?" Barristan asked.
"Only the bad guys."
"The Dothraki with us will not agree." Charles added.
"We'll leave them out of it then, but we need to send a message to the Dothraki and those slavers."
They heard the sound of horses outside and looked out through the window. A procession entered the city through the gate, and the men in it looked rich. Arthur figured they must be those slavers. Riding alongside was a Dothraki man who wore the same braids as the Khal whom Charles had killed in their first encounter. And behind them…
It was John, stripped of his shirt and tied to a horse. There were marks on his body, possibly from lashes. People were throwing stuff at him and laughing at his state.
"They've messed him up." Charles remarked.
"We'll return the gesture, in time." said Arthur, anger boiling up. Those sons of bitches will pay for what they've done. For now, the three men rested in the hut, taking turns standing guard. Finally, the sun had set and they could move out.
The Dothraki knew how to party, that was certain. There was a celebration out in the streets, with men and women getting drunk and making love in the open. It was hard to move unseen in conditions like these, but the gang had been sneaking in and out of places for years. They kept to the shadows and small alleys, while the sounds coming from the party covered the noise of their steps. The tent was not that far away.
"Who were those ladies again? Widows?"
"Of dead Khals. Rakharo told me they aren't allowed to leave. Even Daenerys' was supposed to come here after her husband died." Charles told her. "They are like some kind of priests for the Dothraki."
There was a sound of footsteps. "Watch out!" whispered Charles as two men came their way. They quickly hid inside an opening. The men stopped nearby and refused to leave.
"I'll take the one on the right. You take the other. Just don't use your knife."
Sneaking behind, Arthur and Charles grabbed them by the neck and dragged them to their hiding spot. The men struggled, but they were no match for their strength and soon their necks were snapped.
"Quick. Hide them." Barristan instructed and they stacked the bodies on top of each other, hiding them in the dark shadows. The tent was very near, and they could hear voices from inside. They went closer, out of sight of the other guards and listened in.
"…tell us how they work, you mongrel." someone was saying. "What magic do they have?"
"Shove it up your ass, motherfucker." John's voice said, defiantly. Someone hit him, and he groaned. Then they talked amongst themselves in their own language.
"What're they saying?" Arthur asked Barristan.
"It is Valyrian. They mention Yi Ti."
"Those people that sell us the powder?"
"Yes. They are trying to make a deal with the empire, but they will not negotiate with them unless the dragon queen dies." the old man translated. "Now they…oh, by the gods!"
"What is it?"
"They talk of Volantis hiring a Faceless Man to kill her."
"Those assassins from Braavos?" Arthur remembered.
"Yes. We need to send a message to her Grace immediately!"
"We do, but first things first." he reminded him, and then they heard the people inside leaving the tent. A sizeable number of men came out, and now was their chance.
"I'll go in. You watch my back." he said and looked inside through a window with wooden bars. He saw John tied up naked and bloody, with only a small piece of cloth on him. There were no guards inside, only two old women. He pulled the bars out and the window was large enough to get him inside. He landed with a sound that alerted the women. One was old, but the younger one tried to run to the door. Arthur ran after her and tackled her to the ground, covering her mouth.
"That was not a wise move, miss." he told the woman, with his machete on her throat.
"Arthur? How did you…?" John noticed him.
"Nice to see you again, Marston."
"Why you here, stranger?" the old crone interrupted, speaking in a heavy accent. "This is sacred place."
"I have every intention of letting it stay that way, ma'am, if you won't stop me."
"You…you speak like this man. Are you servant of dragon queen?"
"I ain't nobody's servant." Arthur said. "Now, listen to me carefully and no one will die."
The crone pondered for a moment and then spoke. "What do you say?"
"You will keep quiet and tell this girl to do the same. You never saw me. Promise me this and I'll set you free."
The crone laughed. "The riders tear you apart, fool."
"I'm hard to kill ma'am. You'll see. Do what I say, and I'll give you your freedom, on behalf of Queen Daenerys." then he turned to John and cut his binds off. "Can you walk?"
"Barely. They messed me up pretty good."
"I have a plan. Stay here for a while."
"You sound a lot like Dutch right now." John tried to laugh, but then groaned in pain. "Those idiots took the rifles when they snatched me but forgot the powder."
Arthur took the cut ropes and bound his hands again, this time in a much looser knot.
"Take this." he handed him his pistol. "Eight bullets. You'll know when it's time." and hid it inside John's makeshift trouser. Before leaving, he made a gesture to the women, telling them to keep quiet.
"I'll be back."
The next stage of the plan could now begin. Sneaking back to their horses, they rode out of the city quietly, arousing no suspicion from the guards. Well, many of them were drunk anyway. They rode up the hill and met their other three companions.
"We found John." Arthur declared. "Now, bring out the barrels."
"What you doing, Andal?" Rakharo asked. "You cannot burn the city!"
"We have to. Your Khaleesi's enemies are in that city." he said.
"This is sacred city!"
"Are you loyal to Daenerys? Are you?" he yelled at Rakharo. The man nodded.
"Then help us. We won't kill the widows."
Rakharo grudgingly agreed. It might become a problem in the future. They rode back to their caves and began preparing for the assault. The air and ground both were very dry, so their plan had a great chance of success. With a single stroke, they would eliminate that Khal's army and put the fear of God in the other Dothraki. The carts were loaded with the small gunpowder barrels. It was one of Dutch's favourite stories. An Englishman tried to blow up a building using gunpowder barrels but failed. With any luck, it would not happen to them.
Under cover of the night, they made their way towards that hill again. The celebrations had not ended yet. Arthur took a small team down with the barrels and placed them near the hut and dry grass. They were empty anyway, so it would create the perfect distraction.
"I do hope we get out of this alive, mister Morgan." said Syrio Antaryon.
"Oh we will. Just have some faith."
Arthur ignited the barrels with a match and then the team ran away as fast as they could. In a few seconds, the barrels exploded in a huge bang, destroying the huts and setting everything on fire. People in the streets screamed and chaos overtook everything. On the hill, the riflemen and the Braavosi swordsmen were in position, and upon hearing the explosion they charged towards the city on their horses, some on foot. The fire kept on spreading.
The Dothraki warriors came out, half drunk, only to be killed off easily. The prowess of the Dothraki was exaggerated, it seemed. They wore no armor and charged into battle without thinking, making them easy targets, while the merchants and the slaves tried to keep out of the line of fire. Once again, they had taken the city by surprise, and once again the soldiers would fall. The Braavosi swordsmen led by Captain Antaryon were exceptional in their skills, killing many riders on horseback. As the houses caught fire, any inhabitants came out in the open and they had to figure out who to kill and who to spare. The riflemen kept firing from the rear lines and scaring anyone still unused to the voice.
As the battle went on, Arthur and Charles broke formation and rushed towards the tent, shooting any soldier that came in their way. Time was of the essence . Once at the crone's tent, they opened the door to find the Khal and the slave masters holding John hostage. Without waiting for a word, Arthur focused on the Khal and time slowed down. He pulled the trigger and the next moment, the Khal's brains were on the wooden walls. John broke free of the knot and pulled out the pistol, shooting the other Dothraki and slavers. It was a massacre, and everyone but the gang and the widows were dead. Instead of just two like before, there were tens of them now.
Then Arthur remembered something. He grabbed a master, who was bleeding to death. "Where is that assassin?" he asked. The master only laughed.
"The dragon whore will die soon. You cannot save her." he said, then breathed his last. That was not what he wanted to hear. Daenerys could be at risk any moment and they had no clue where to look.
"Let's get you back Marston." he turned towards John and picked him up. The women in the tent were watching him curiously.
"You're free now. You can come with us."
"What magic was that?" the old crone asked.
"That was not magic. Hurry up."
The streets were filled with bodies. The Braavosi and the riflemen would have had fun killing their mortal enemies. Arthur came out with John and the widows, and anyone still alive was assembled outside the tent. That included the warriors and the non-fighting folk, including the merchants. The Dothraki were bowing to him, which he found confusing.
"You are the Stallion, young man." The crone said in her heavy accent.
"What?"
"The Stallion who Mounts the World. I was too blind to see it." then she and her widows too started bowing.
"What is all this?" he asked Charles.
"You conquered their city, which now makes you a Khal. They will ride with you."
Well, shit.
"Then tell everyone that we need to ride now. We need to get back to Daenerys before the assassins do." he said. "And get John some damn clothes."
Vaes Dothrak burned throughout the night, and their group became a lot larger. As the words of the widows spread, the Dothraki in their camp shed away all resentment and followed all his orders, even Rakharo. Apparently, this Stallion business was very serious among the people. Arthur found himself thrust into an even greater role of leadership, one which he wasn't sure he could handle. Were the widows wrong? Well, the Dothraki didn't think so. In any case, they now had more people to help Daenerys. Every slave had been freed on his orders, and everyone who could walk or ride was with them, including the widows.
Khal Arthur? Or maybe, Khal Tacitus.
.
