War
Hooves beat a steady rhythm through the plains, the sands soaked red with blood.Swords clashed. Men screamed. Limbs fell.They bled for their way of life.
"Earth was a haven once — in the Middle Ages. The later years were... disappointing," said a figure clad in armor, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a Spartan helm. Only two red eyes glowed from within.
"War has always been a means for mankind to advance," he murmured. "It calls for innovation. It demands movement. It forces growth."
Earth had grown. It had moved.And then it had stopped.
Killing had become too easy. Ravens starved as Valhalla fell silent. Warriors were no more.
The armored figure reflected on this in silence — until a voice broke through, sickly sweet yet melodic. It came from a skeleton draped in a robe shaped like a woman.
"Melancholy does not suit you, brother," Death said, her tone soft but laced with amusement.
The figure — War — turned his gaze through the darkness that surrounded them, the void between realms where he and his siblings resided. War was the antithesis of stagnation. It kept life moving. It culled and balanced populations.
Who better to control man than War himself?
From the darkness of their liminal space, War and his siblings peered at the world — one resting on the fringes of the universe. They heard the screams of women, saw children wither in hunger, watched fathers fall in battle and temples overflow with the sick.
Then, from these visions, a gaunt man emerged. His skin was painted with war marks, twin swords hung at his sides. His presence alone was unnerving as he strode down a corridor that led into a vast hall.
MC's POV
The Dothraki are a warring, nomadic people.Keeping most of my khalasar behind walls was making them restless.
The pyramid grew taller each day, but I could feel their hunger — not for food, but for battle. They needed to move. So did I. My body had begun to grow weary, and the constant stream of assassins from the western kings was becoming… irritating.
I was not a man to let such things slide.The time to move west was near.
Before that, I needed the remaining khals under my command. I already led the largest khalasar — now I wanted the fringe khals.
One was descended from a people known as the Grey Men — tall, almost inhumanly so. The other had ridden far east, beyond the mountains to Yi Ti. I wanted them both: their people, their skill, their strength.
I wanted to be the largest moving army on this continent.I wanted it all.
Whatever god or gods had chosen me did not choose me for peace. They wanted me to lay waste.
As my thoughts wandered, I heard voices speaking Dothraki. I walked toward the great doors at the end of the hall and pushed them open.
There they were — the Grey Khal and the Mountain Khal. Each surrounded by his own bloodriders.
The Grey Khal was massive, nearly seven and a half feet tall. The Mountain Khal stood slightly shorter, about the height of Jogo, one of my fiercest riders.
The Grey Khal was the first to speak, his gravelly voice echoing through the hall."You have taken well to the walls of the lamb men, Khal of the Lambs," he said — a jab at my lighter skin.
I didn't mind. I wasn't here for pride. I was here for power.
"These are my tents," I replied calmly as I approached my seat. "They keep the rain out, shield us from storms, and bar intruders. I am Khal of the largest known khalasar. I killed Drogo and took a dragon princess as my Khaleesi."
I sat and gestured to the seats before me. They watched me in silence, though I could see the Grey Khal's curiosity flicker — he wanted to see the dragon princess for himself.
I continued, "The lamb men, the Braavosi, the sellswords, the slavers — they build cities while we roam the plains. Why shouldn't we have walls of our own? No, the Dothraki do not sow… but the lamb men do. Why not make them do it for us?"
The Grey Khal leaned forward. "The people you speak of have walls and armor," he said. "They fight like cowards in the open field, yes, but their walls remain an issue."
As servants entered with wine, fruit, and roasted meat, the Mountain Khal finally spoke."So, you want us to ride with you… to take these walls?"
I nodded, biting into a pear.
He continued, "And after we take them? How do we keep them — and how do we share the spoils?"
Fair questions. Khals were kings in their own right — men who would not bend easily.So I spoke plainly.
"Our khalakars — our sons — will be the future Khals who ride across the world. We can fight each other now to see who is strongest, or we can be like the lamb men and the slavers, and join together as one. One khalasar."
I leaned forward."We will ride to each other's aid. We will bring the grasslands to the cities. We will lead with strength and take what is ours."
My tone never faltered — calm, monotone and emotionless.i was not meerly speaking of war and killing that was easy but dothraki politics where non existant the power was with the individual a weak khal meant death.