The news reached Myr long before the thunder of hooves did.
The Dothraki are coming.
It spread first as a whisper, then as a rumor, and finally as a roar that rolled across the Free City like a dark wave. For ordinary citizens, it felt as though a shadow had descended from the eastern plains — ancient, merciless, and hungry.
The Dothraki Screamers had always been a name synonymous with slaughter. Their coming meant torched villages, butchered families, and cities turned to ash. It meant a storm that left behind nothing but charred soil and grass growing over ruins.
Their cruelty was not random. It was rooted in belief — the Dothraki held the earth itself as a mother goddess, and they viewed plowed land, cultivated fields, and stone buildings as a violation against her. Anything shaped by tools, anything that broke the raw will of the grasslands, they considered an affront.
So they burned.
They burned farms.
They burned houses.
They burned entire city-states.
During the Century of Blood, after the Doom of Valyria shattered the balance of the world, the Dothraki swept across the continent like a plague. Peasants fled their huts. Nobles abandoned manors. The old kingdoms — Sarrabi, Iffervon, the trade towns of the Red Waste, the ibbenese outposts — were reduced to grass and rubble. Only the Unsullied at Qohor ever stood against them and lived.
A tide of destruction was once more on the move — and this time its path led straight to Myr.
But what ignited the fury of the Myrish people was not simply the invasion.
It was the betrayal.
Reports emerged — spread deliberately by Qyburn's scouts — that the Dothraki had been purchased. Bought like mercenaries by the Archon of Tyrosh and by the exiled Myrish Magisters who had fled during the recent unrest. These men had once been pillars of the city-state. Nobles, merchants, political elites... now selling Myr for their own return to power.
The scandal hit the city like a spark in dry tinder.
"Traitors!"
"Shame on them!"
"Treason!"
Crowds swelled in the streets. Panic mixed with outrage. Those old noble families, once privately respected by the conservatives, had now become the most despised figures in all Myr. People who had once walked past their estates with lowered eyes now shouted openly for their heads.
The city needed order — and it needed a leader strong enough to face both internal turmoil and the external thunder approaching from the steppe.
In Myr's Lace Plaza, the towering white towers of the city hall glowed under the sun. These pure spires had once been symbols of wealth and artistry. Now they stood like cold witnesses to the greatest crisis of the age.
Soldiers lined the square.
Their longspears shimmered like a forest of steel.
The Wolf Pack mercenaries stood firm, disciplined and grim.
The Free Army, once formed of ragged slaves, now looked ready for war.
Unsullied guards with shields and spears formed a reliable backbone to the growing force.
Even the Myrish citizens felt a flicker of courage. Mercenaries could be bought and could flee, but these armies — the Wolf Pack and the Free Army — were loyal to the city, to Gendry, to the new order being born.
And so Lord Gendry stepped forward.
Heavy armor wrapped his body like a black tide. His deep blue eyes were sharp as hammered steel, scanning the tens of thousands gathered in the plaza. He stood before them not as a blacksmith, not as a bastard, but as Commander-in-Chief of the new Myr.
Behind him stood the Arrow Maker with his dragonglass bow — a weapon the Red Viper openly admired with envy. Goldenheart bows were prized, but the dragonglass bow was on another level entirely. It was a weapon that could pierce both armor and myth.
Gendry raised his voice, and the plaza fell into a hush.
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"Citizens of Myr! Free Folk! Farmers, artisans, soldiers of the Wolf Pack and the Free Army! Even you merchants and former nobles who have chosen to stand with this new order — hear my words!"
A tide of heads turned toward him.
"Myr stands at the edge of annihilation. The Dothraki riders are on their way. They will not negotiate. They will not occupy. They will burn. They will slaughter. They will take everything we have built — our homes, our children, our parents — and leave nothing but ashes."
He lifted his warhammer high, its surface gleaming with runes.
"What will you do?"
A roar rose like a crashing wave.
"Kill the Dothraki!"
"Kill the traitors who brought them!"
The Free Folk shouted passionately — no one despised slavers more than the newly freed. The Dothraki were slave-takers by tradition. For the Free Folk, to let them conquer Myr meant to return to chains. Even death was better.
The older citizens of Myr, usually hesitant and fearful, now found themselves stirred. They were not warriors, but they recognized a truth: if the city fell, none would be spared. Even the timid understood that survival meant standing behind those who could protect them.
Gendry watched the swelling unity with satisfaction. The Dothraki's approach, terrifying as it was, offered a political miracle. Once the horsemen attacked, the exiled Magisters would be despised universally. Myr's population—mostly common citizens—would naturally rally behind the new leadership.
Defeat the Dothraki, avenge Myr, win the people — all in one stroke.
From the Round Table Council, voices rose in support. The council, made up of representatives from the carpet guilds, lace industries, screen-makers, lens artisans, painters, merchants, and Free Folk delegates, declared in unison:
"At this moment of life and death, you—Commander-in-Chief—are the shield and sword of Myr!"
Gendry nodded once. "Then I accept this charge."
He raised his warhammer again.
"We will crush the Dothraki butchers!"
"We will defend Myr and the Disputed Lands! We will fight for millions of free citizens!"
"Victory!"
"Victory!"
Longspears and swords clashed in a ringing chorus. The sound rolled across the plaza like thunder, echoing off the marble towers. Even the hesitant citizens felt fire ignite in their chests. Men who had never touched a spear stepped forward to join the City Watch. Women volunteered to assist with medical preparations. Merchants opened their coffers. For the first time in generations, Myr felt unity.
In a shaded corner, the Red Viper observed quietly, arms folded, lips twitching with a knowing smile. So the boy can sway crowds… perhaps age truly does give way to youth.
Next, Brown Ben Plumm, Commander of the Myr City Watch, stepped forward. The people recognized him well — a familiar figure, honest and reliable.
Brown Ben raised a scroll and announced:
"Because of the treachery committed during the riots — because the exiled Magisters and nobles bribed the Dothraki to invade our homeland — because they abandoned us and committed crimes against Myr — I hereby declare, in the name of Myr, the Disputed Lands, Tyrosh, the Narrow Sea, and our new Magistrate of the Stepstones, Lord Gendry:"
He unrolled the parchment.
"These traitors are stripped of all honors, of all wealth, of all titles, and of all protection. Their assets shall be confiscated. Their names shall be publicly shamed throughout Myr."
The crowd erupted.
"Kill the traitors!"
"Kill the Dothraki!"
Posters began circulating immediately, listing the names of those who had betrayed Myr. Their estates would be seized. Their properties divided among the city for the coming war effort.
"Deploy the troops!" Gendry commanded.
Gray Wolf, commander of the Free Army, saluted and led his forces toward the city gates. Other soldiers took defensive positions along the walls. Volunteers streamed behind them, armed with whatever they could find.
Thousands of banners unfurled in the wind. The army's formation stretched outward like an iron tapestry. Before the Dothraki arrived, Gray Wolf would position the Free Army and Wolf Pack in a deliberate pattern — bait for a trap the horsemen would not see coming.
Gendry turned to the last of his forces.
"Knights!"
Heavy cavalry stepped forward — steel-armored warriors mounted on destriers bred for battle. In this war, these knights would be the decisive force. The Unsullied were disciplined but rigid. The majority of the men gathered were not full Unsullied, but they would hold the line long enough for the knights to break the enemy's advance.
Gendry's gaze hardened.
The Dothraki were coming.
But Myr was no longer a city of silk-makers and slavers.
It was a city of steel.
And steel was ready to fight.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)