After the battle, Griffith rode at the head of his men toward the merchant caravan. Wherever he passed, there were corpses everywhere. The heat was suffocating, and the smell of rusty blood was extremely unpleasant. Silence reigned among the caravan, its members trembling with fear, feeling as if they had escaped the mouth of the wolf only to enter the tiger's lair.
Each step of the horses' hooves echoed in the desert, a reminder of the power that had been manifested just minutes before.
When Griffith arrived at the front with his soldiers behind him, the leader of the merchants approached cautiously. Now that he was so close to this knight, his eyes widened as he contemplated Griffith's shining armor and the aura he exuded. The merchant, astute as ever, knew that this was no ordinary person.
Perhaps he was the son of a lord exiled from Westeros. It was not surprising that this had happened. It is said that after the first failed rebellion, Darkfire, many of these descendants remained in Essos and formed what is now called the best group of mercenaries, "The Golden Company".
The fat merchant calmed his fears, bowed deeply, and made a reverence, causing his large belly to sway up and down. "Thank you very much for rescuing us from the savage Dothraki. Your saving grace will be remembered by me. May I know the virtuous name of my savior?"
Griffith, upon hearing the fat man's words, did not respond. He calmed his mind and prepared to speak carefully. After all, it was well known that in ancient times, these bourgeois merchants were known for being cunning.
He brought his hands to his helmet and calmly removed it. In the next moment, his long silver-blue hair fell over his shoulders. Under the rays of the sun, his hair shone brightly. Everyone present opened their eyes in surprise at Griffith's angelic appearance. The fat merchant who was closest to him was the most surprised.
He swore by all the gods that existed and would ever exist that he had never seen such a beautiful man. His beauty even put the women he had slept with to shame.
Seeing everyone's reaction, Griffith felt a slight chill run down his spine, shaking him to his core. That his beauty captivated women was a good thing, but that even men were attracted to him was something that made him shudder. Griffith calmed his persistent fear and responded to the merchant in an indifferent voice.
"There is no need to thank me. It is my duty as a faithful believer in the true God to help those most in need. My name is Griffith."
........
"Ah, this..." The merchant was stunned. He had no problem with the name, but what he had said earlier left him speechless. Although it was not unusual to find religious fanatics in Essos, he had never thought that this handsome young man would be one of them.
"I see, sir. Thank you very much for saving our lives." The fat merchant quickly dispelled his thoughts and thanked him again, but this time all the members of the caravan bowed in gratitude.
"Since you insist, I will accept your thanks. Currently, my men and I are lost. Could you tell us where the nearest city is?
.....
Upon hearing Griffith's words, the fat merchant had an idea, so he quickly said, "If you go straight in this direction, you will see the road that leads to Myr. If you follow this road, you will arrive in a few days by horseback."
"I see. If that is the case, then this is where our paths part." Griffith nodded and prepared to leave.
At that moment, seeing his savior about to leave, the fat merchant panicked inside. He quickly stepped forward and said hurriedly, "Wait, my lord, I have a proposal for you."
"Oh," Griffith stopped his horse and turned around, looking at the fat merchant with scrutinizing eyes. "Tell me about this proposal."
The fat merchant sighed with relief, thought of his best words, and after a few seconds finally spoke. "My lord, you cannot leave just like that. As our savior, we must thank you for your saving grace, so how about accompanying us to Myr? My brother, one of the city's Magisters, will undoubtedly give you a generous reward."
Griffith frowned and narrowed his eyes. This fat merchant was not being honest; he was using the reward as an excuse. What he was really looking for was an escort without paying anything. Feeling Griffith's penetrating gaze, the fat merchant panicked, and nervous sweat ran down his chubby cheeks.
He quickly waved his hands and added, "My lord, do not worry, since you will be accompanying us, it could count as an escort, so we will add more as payment. What do you think? Do you agree with this?"
Griffith thought about it for a moment and found it feasible. Besides, he needed supplies for himself and his men. He hadn't eaten in a long time and was already quite hungry. Griffith smiled softly and replied, "Very well, then lead the way."
The merchant visibly relaxed, sighed with relief, and smiled broadly. "I see you are short on provisions. The journey will be long. Would you like some water and bread before you leave?"
Griffith's eyes lit up after hearing the merchant's words. With a slight smile on his lips and a soft voice, Griffith replied, "Then I won't be polite."
This warm smile and soft voice caused some of the women in the caravan to blush, fascinated by the beautiful face of the White Falcon.
After a quick meal, the group moved on. The Teutonic knights took off their helmets due to the suffocating heat. Seeing this, Griffith said nothing; after all, the tight metal against their heads was unbearable for long journeys.
Griffith looked at the enormous caravan that had grown.
"Earlier, the merchant from Myr suggested that we take the surviving horses, and if we didn't use them, that he sell them, since these Dothraki horses are sold at extremely inflated prices.
According to him, they are the best horses available in all of Essos. These horses are fierce by nature, and the cruel environment in which they live makes them even more formidable in battle.
So he suggested that I sell them. If I couldn't find buyers, he offered to act as an intermediary, which I accepted without hesitation, since it would be quite difficult to do it on my own. I might get cheated, so it's better to have a professional take care of it.
On the other hand, he already has an idea of the world in which he has been reincarnated. At first, when he saw the vast desert, he thought he had arrived in a Middle Eastern area such as Arabia or, in the worst case, North Africa, which is characterized by these desert climates.
At that moment, I relaxed, thinking that I had traveled to the past of my previous world, which, although not good, was not entirely bad. However, when I heard the merchant say the word "Dothraki," I understood what world I was in. It was undoubtedly the chaotic world of Game of Thrones, a series of books he had read in his previous life.
Griffith sighed. If it was the television series he was in, it would be fine, but if it was the books, he would have to think carefully about his every move. He looked at the fat merchant beside him and decided to ask him for some information for the time being. "Excuse me, could you tell me the most relevant events that have occurred recently?"
The merchant nodded when he heard Griffith's words. His face became solemn, he took a sip of water from his canteen, and began to recount
"Essos has been very restless recently. A powerful Dothraki horse lord has emerged among them, which is making all the free cities very nervous. It is estimated that his forces number between 100,000 and 200,000 men, of whom it is not known for certain how many are soldiers."
"If it's not too much trouble, my lord, may I ask a question?" At that moment, Alaric, one of his soldiers, who acted as Vice Master of the Teutonic Order, spoke up, interrupting what the fat merchant was about to say.
"Go ahead, Alaric, you may ask," Griffith replied as he listened attentively. Alaric looked at the fat merchant hostilely and asked, "Why are the so-called Free Cities nervous? These so-called Dothraki are just a bunch of savages, so why be nervous?"
...
The fat merchant was not bothered by being interrupted by another, but instead sighed and his gaze turned helpless.
"Certainly, Ser, these Dothraki are a bunch of savages from the steppes. They only know how to plunder, kill, demand tribute, rape women, and ride horses. Of that, you can be sure. But this is why the Free Cities fear them. Before we talk about why, we must understand the reason they are feared."
The fat merchant paused and took his canteen to wet his throat. After a few sips, he began to recount
"It is said that the ancestors of the Dothraki people came from the lands beyond the Bone Mountains in the Far East of the continent. At first, no one paid them any attention. after all, when the people of that time saw how the Dothraki dug holes in the ground and covered them with a roof of woven grass as a settlement, they looked down on them. They were just another nomadic tribe; that was their opinion of these barbarians.
But everything changed four hundred years ago when the Dothraki rode toward the Free Cities from the east, looting and burning every city that stood in their way. It was at that moment that the Kingdom of Sarnor was destroyed by this barbarian tribe.
But before that, the horsemen of the eastern steppes, who had previously been divided into dozens of warring tribes that killed each other, united under one banner, a Khal who to this day makes the Free Cities tremble, Mengo the Great Khal of the Dothraki.
At that time, it was said that Mengo was already an old man when he had unified the entire steppe. It was then that, feeling that the breath of life was about to ascend to the heavens to ride alongside the Stallion, he turned his gaze to the West.
For centuries, the lords of the horses were nothing more than a nuisance to the Kingdom of Sarnor, but even so, they despised these people, even when the khalasars began to attack the eastern borders.
Some kings tried to use the Dothraki as mercenaries, offering them gold, slaves, and other gifts in exchange for fighting their enemies. Khal Mengo gladly accepted such gifts, but who would have thought that he would also take their lands? He burned fields, farms, and cities and returned the grasslands to the wild, where his horses trampled civilization and it was never reborn.
But even then, the Kingdom of Sarnor did not take this threat seriously until the son of the Great Khal Mengo, Khal Moro, led his khalasar to the gates of Sathar, the fabulous City of the Waterfall. The Dothraki defeated the men of Sathar in battle, put them to the sword, and took their women and children as slaves, but even so, according to the accounts, three-quarters of them died on the grueling march south to the slave markets of Hazdahn Mo, the Ghiscari city in the hills. Sathar, the most beautiful settlement in the grasslands, was reduced to ashes and rubble. It is not known why, perhaps out of mockery, disdain, or simply cruelty, but when Khal Moro saw the ruins, he renamed the place Yalli Qamayi, the place of the Howling Children.
Even then, the kings of Sarnor did not unite. While Sathar burned, the kings of Kasath and Gornath sent their armies, but not to help their neighbors; rather, they claimed part of Kasath's spoils.
From that moment on, the cities of Sarnor fell one by one, each fall more tragic than the last.
One of the most tragic events was that of the City of Mardosh, which had been called the Unconquerable. It was so heavily fortified that the Dothraki Khals could not break through it.
This city was the one that defied the lords of the horses the longest, resisting for six long years, isolated from the outside world.
Time passed, days turned into months and months into years. Struck by hunger, the residents devoured their pets and horses.
When these were gone, they then devoured the rats and other vermin in the city. Finally, when the options were exhausted, they ended up devouring their dead.
Each passing day was like hell on earth. In the end, when they saw that they could no longer resist, the surviving warriors of the city entered into a frenzy of desperation and killed the women and children to prevent the khals from enslaving them.
Finally, all the men of the city opened the gates and, in a last desperate charge, launched a final attack.
None survived. When the Dothraki saw that all the slaves had died, they set the city ablaze and reduced it to nothing. In the end, as before, the Dothraki christened the ruins, and this once-city was named Vaes Gorqoyi, the City of the Bloody Charge.
After the fall of this city, the Kingdom of Sarnor, all the Kings of the Free Cities, under the command of the High King of Sarnor, undertook a great campaign.
A great army of six thousand war chariots, twenty thousand horsemen, and one hundred thousand spearmen and slingers was formed and marched against the coalition of Khals of eighty thousand Dothraki horsemen. At first, it was thought that the united Kingdom of Sarnor would destroy the Horse Men.
But this was not the case. Using an ambush tactic, the Dothraki army surrounded and massacred the High King's army. According to the chronicles, the corpses were piled high and the ravens swarmed to devour the remains. This battle was called Field of Crows, and so the once-great Kingdom of Sarnor fell, and the rest of its cities fell more easily than before.
"Cough, cough, cough!" The fat merchant coughed because his throat had gone dry. He quickly grabbed his canteen and drank water in gulps.
...
After finishing, he looked at Alaric, who remained silent, and continued, "Although these men are savages, their skills are undoubtedly formidable. Now you should know why the Free Cities fear the rise of Khal Drogo.
They fear that the exploits and atrocities of Khal Mengo will be repeated. No one wants to see a united Dothraki people. Otherwise, just like four hundred years ago, the men will die while their wives hold their bodies and weep tears of blood, only to be sold as slaves along with their children.