Myr Fortress loomed before the Dothraki like an insurmountable chasm. The Dothraki excelled at charges in the open field, not at confronting stone and rammed earth defenses.
Gendry looked at the Khalasar in the distance; Khal Drogo's Khalasar was like a dense black cloud, suffocatingly oppressive. Although strategically he disdained the Dothraki's recklessness, tactically he still had to take this large force of fifty thousand roaring riders seriously.
"The position of Khal is difficult to pass down, and hereditary Khals are even harder to maintain. As soon as Khal Drogo dies, there's a high probability the entire Khalasar will disband," Oberyn said.
The power dynamics of the Dothraki were extremely brutal; there was no way for great families to emerge and last for millennia or centuries as in Westeros. The positions of Khal and heir were both quite fragile.
A Khal was usually the strongest or most ferocious warrior in a Khalasar. To defeat rivals within the Khalasar, a Khal would lose his leadership position when he could no longer ride a horse.
The heir to a Khal was a Khaleesi. But the Dothraki would not follow an underage Khaleesi. The Ko would fight among themselves for control of the Khalasar, and the young Khaleesi would be killed to prevent her from becoming a formidable rival in the future. It was not too common for someone like Drogo to smoothly inherit a Khalasar.
"As long as Drogo is killed, this massive Khalasar will vanish into thin air," Gendry replied.
Gendry was confident in achieving his strategic objective. Although Khal Drogo appeared invincible at the moment, a sudden wound or illness could claim his life. He was a valiant warrior, but also a brute.
"As long as Khal Drogo gets bogged down in the mire of Myr Fortress, he won't escape death," Jorah said, looking at the distant figures of the Dothraki. In the past, he had been among the first to land on Pyke, but now he had to adapt to the role of Commander.
"War is breaking out on both continents. It seems the war in the East will end first, while the real show in the West is just beginning," The Red Viper said.
Jorah, Anguy, and the others all knew that The Red Viper was more eager to participate in the war in Westeros than the one in the East, but this was very difficult, and opportunities were hard to find.
Ever since the Dornish suffered a crushing defeat in the War of the Usurper, Prince Doran had been very cautious about participating in any war. Dorne's population base was, after all, at the bottom.
"The war in the West is also coming very swiftly. We need to defeat Khal Drogo before the war completely explodes," Gendry confessed. This was also his strategic vision; fighting on two fronts was a very dangerous move, and it was necessary to concentrate forces as much as possible.
Defeating the Dothraki was not easy, but great achievements came from hardship. Only by defeating the Dothraki could the Two Cities be completely subdued, and only then would there be enough strength to interfere in the affairs of Westeros, and to demonstrate power to potential allies or enemies.
"The current war is mainly between House Tully and House Lannister. House Tully is bound to suffer a major defeat, and the only hope is the support from the Northmen and the vale men," The Red Viper analyzed. Although The Red Viper hated House Lannister, he still had to analyze rationally in the face of war.
The Red Viper did not yet know the extent to which Lady Lysa was under Littlefinger's sway, nor could he determine the Vale's passive behavior in the melee.
"Speaking of Commanders and military strength, the Riverlands are not really a match for the Westerlands," Gendry had no doubt about House Tully's temporary failure. Edmure was not as skilled in military command as Jaime, let alone the more prestigious Jaime. And the Riverlands' disorganized army could hardly resist the well-trained army of Lannister, so it only depended on how long House Tully could hold out.
"If House Tully fails, then their position as leaders of the Riverlands will be precarious," Jorah said. Jorah naturally knew House Tully's background. As a rising power, House Tully's control over the Lords of The Three Rivers, with a smaller force dominating a larger one, was inherently awkward. Moreover, the mediocre Dukes of Riverrun had occupied large sections of House Tully's history. So it was normal for the Lords of The Three Rivers to have their own intentions.
"But I don't think House Tully will lose too badly, right?" Anguy scratched his head. "Lord Hoster still has two powerful sons-in-law. Would Lord Stark and Lord Arryn just stand by and watch Riverrun be besieged?"
"Stark will certainly intervene, but by then it will be an earth-shattering war," Gendry said.
"The other places aren't just watching either, the Stormlands, The Reach." The Red Viper listed them one by one. In fact, the situation in Westeros might be following the rhythm of a great free-for-all. Once chaos erupted, except for Dorne relying on its terrain to survive, all the other Lords would be fighting fiercely.
"And the Iron Islands," Jorah interjected. "That fool King Balon, if he sees chaos, he will surely rebel again."
"I know this man too. He is a fanatical follower of the Old Way, and he's old. The older he gets, the more stubborn he becomes," The Red Viper said disdainfully.
"King Balon." Hearing the man's name, Gendry almost laughed out loud. King Balon's mind was a bit problematic; he had no eye for military opportunities. Balon only launched his rebellion after the War of the Usurper had ended, and the result was predictable.
At the start of the rebellion, the Ironborn, using a clever stratagem, burned Lannisport and for a time held the upper hand. But under the combined suppression of the three armies, the Ironborn were ultimately defeated, and Balon's first rebellion ended in failure. His eldest son, Roderick, and second son, Maron, died in the war, and his third son, Theon, was taken as a hostage by Eddard. Balon's wife, Alannys, who had lost three Children, was greatly affected and from then on became estranged from Balon, going their separate ways.
"Regardless, whether forced or willing, we are welcoming the arrival of war, and we must use every means to achieve victory. Only the victor's family can survive and continue to stand in the kingdom," The Red Viper sighed.
Although the aristocratic system of Westeros was stable, it was not without the possibility of radical change. Once a major war broke out, it meant the rise or fall of Lords. Aegon's conquest, in its time, destroyed the rule of the green hand family, House Durrendon, and House Hoare, and the Iron Islands, Riverlands, Stormlands, and The Reach all changed masters.
Gendry smiled and said no more... The Iron Islands, a harsh and desolate land, truly a place of poor mountains and treacherous waters.
Even Pyke, owned by House Greyjoy, appeared desolate and Stark, like the whispers of the drowned god from the deep sea. The drowned god himself was a cruel deity. He encouraged his followers to raid, and he encouraged their blood and fire.
The shores of Pyke were all sheer rock cliffs, and the entire castle seemed to be one with them; the towers, walls, bridges, and overhangs were made of the same grey-black stone, battered by the same fierce waves, covered in the same dark moss, and stained with the same bird droppings. The headland where House Greyjoy's fortress stood once pierced the sea like a sword, but after being battered day and night by the waves, this land had shattered a thousand years ago, now leaving only three barren, desolate islands and twelve towering megaliths, like the pillars of a temple dedicated to some nameless sea god, with the raging waves continuing to wreak havoc among them.
"This scar is forever in my heart." Every time she returned to Pyke, Asha Greyjoy, the twenty-something captain of the 'Black Wind,' would notice the scars left by Robert Baratheon's catapults.
The south tower of Pyke's damaged wall had been rebuilt with light grey stone, not yet covered by lichen. It was from here that Robert had breached the castle, wielding his warhammer, striding over rubble and corpses, and killing his way in, with Eddard Stark by his side. Asha would always think of that day, the raging fires, and then the thunderous crash of the collapsing walls.
Asha's father's ship, the Great Kraken, was still moored at the dock, with a massive grey iron ram shaped like a kraken at its bow. But this great ship, like its master, was now a lost kraken.
"Captain, shouldn't we stop at a tavern for a rest first?" Asha's sailors asked her. Asha wore a brown quilted coat, black wool breeches, a studded belt, and salt-stained high leather boots. Rather than a girl, she looked more like a natural Ironborn raider.
"Forget it, your ale is as weak as horse piss," Asha grumbled in response. Asha was fierce, wild, and unruly, but it was precisely this character that allowed her to command her ship and sailors so well. Asha commanded personally, and her crew was very loyal to her.
After bidding farewell to her sailors, Asha, despite the fatigue of her journey, went alone to the Sea Tower to visit her father, King Balon. Reaching the Sea Tower required crossing three bridges, each narrower than the last. The final bridge was made only of wood and ropes, swaying incessantly in the sea wind, as if alive.
But Asha was not afraid, for she frequented this place and was intimately familiar with the bridge's habits. Now in her twenties, she was slender with long legs, short black hair, a face chapped by the wind, strong hands, and a pink scar on her neck.
The circular Sea Tower rose like a broken sword from the outermost island's fissure, the oldest structure of the castle. The steep sea pillar beneath it, ravaged by countless waves, was almost entirely eroded. The base of the tower bore centuries of accumulated white salt crystals, while the upper floors were covered in green lichen, like a thick blanket; the sharp spire was smoke-black, with the watchman's bonfire burning perpetually.
The guards all recognized King Balon's only remaining daughter by his side and naturally let her in. Asha climbed the winding stairs to the top of the tower and found her father sitting by a brazier, dressed in a moldy sealskin jumpsuit, enveloped from chin to foot.
King Balon heard footsteps on the stone stairs and looked at his daughter who was by his side. King Balon had been the most outstanding raider in his youth, but now he was terribly gaunt. It was as if the gods had put him in a cauldron and boiled every inch of muscle from his body, leaving only skin and hair. Balon was as thin as a rail, a hard skeleton, and his face looked as if it had been chiseled from flint, only his black eyes were sharp. Balon's hair, ravaged by years and sea winds, had turned the grey of a winter sea, dotted with a few white waves, unkempt, and falling past his shoulders.
"Have you seen her?" Balon asked his daughter. After Asha's two elder brothers had died and her younger brother was held hostage, her father Balon began to see her as his heir, raising her like a son.
"Yes, Father." Asha nodded, not denying it. She had seen her mother on Harlaw.
"Is she still the same?"
"Yes. But the cough is a little better," Asha said. Ever since Balon's two sons died and his youngest son was sent as a hostage, Balon's wife, Alannys Harlaw, had begun to show signs of mental instability. Alannys Harlaw now lived with her sister on Harlaw, suffering from a cough, and the climate there was less harsh.
"This is our destiny, Asha, what the drowned god grants us. Your uncle often says everything is the drowned god's will. Men fish from the sea, farm the land, and then die; women lie on beds of blood and pain, squeezing out short-lived Children. The sun rises and sets, the tides remain, and the islands are as the gods created them." Balon stopped asking about his weak wife; Ironborn never regretted what was past.
"But as one gets older, there are always some ailments. My joints still ache in damp, cold weather, but at least I'm not as weak as your mother."
"Mother is still thinking about Theon, which is more deadly than the cough," Asha said cautiously. In truth, she was also thinking about her younger brother, the Child sent to Winterfell as a hostage.
"Enough. I want you to forget him, to act as if he doesn't exist," Balon said impatiently. "He is living in luxury in the Green Lands and will surely be raised by the Starks like a pampered lordling or a whore. He will not be a suitable raider."
"But that's not my brother's fault," Asha couldn't help but retort.
"Have you forgotten your own brothers, Roderick and Maron? Your brothers died at their hands, yet Theon is tainted with the scent of wolf pups." Balon looked at his daughter. "I have never forgotten revenge. Stark and Robert, who smashed my walls, I will surely see them in their graves."
"I haven't forgotten either. I know the people you hate most: Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, then Stannis, and Tywin."
"Good, that's my Child."
"Think of my ships; they too are eager to raid the Green Lands again," Balon said bitterly.
"If that is what you think, then the opportunity seems to be approaching. War has ignited in the East, and our longships will surely be called to action," Asha said, seeing Balon's expression, and she no longer brought up Theon.
"Indeed, the Riverlands in the East, and Essos further East, all echo with the sounds of war, how wonderful," Balon laughed heartily. "I have finally waited for this opportunity."
"Then with our swords and flames, how shall we pay the iron price?" Asha asked.
"Tywin and House Tully are at war; Riverrun will be in fear, so House Stark will inevitably move south. And the Stepstones and the Two Cities are fighting a bloody war with the Dothraki, but their fleet is still formidable. In this way, many places will be wide open." Balon thought for a moment. "There will be many fruits on the tree, and I will choose the easiest one to pick. Lord Tywin is incredibly shrewd; Casterly Rock has never been breached. And that newly risen Alliance of the Twin Cities, I don't think they should be underestimated either."
Asha looked at King Balon and did not contradict her father's thoughts, but Asha always felt something was off. King Balon was determined to restore the Old Way, but his mind had always been less than brilliant, a typical bully who picked on the weak.
"We will set sail, but not now. We must choose our target carefully. I am the chief raider of Pyke, the Sea King and the Rock King, son of the sea wind. If I want a crown, I will pay the iron price and take it myself, just like 'Bloody Hand' Urragon five thousand years ago."
"I want you to be ready, Child. In the past, our ancestor King Dagon not only plucked the lion's whiskers in the lion's den but also tied the Direwolf's tail in knots. Although King Dagon couldn't deal with the true dragon, the ocean belonged to us then. Now I want to restore that past glory," Balon said to his daughter. "At the right time, you must also declare my commands to the Lords of the other islands and gather the longships."
Asha knew Balon was referring to events a hundred years ago, when King Dagon ravaged the seas, and Duke Beron Stark allied with Casterly Rock to fight the Ironborn. Lord Stark even died from severe wounds in battle with the Ironborn.
"Yes, Father." Asha nodded. Her father's will was so firm, like iron, like fire.
----------------------------------
I've already uploaded over 40 new chapters on Patreon!
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead, feel free to check it out.
Your support truly means a lot to me!
patreon.com/Kazenova223
Thank you so much for being here!
And if you're having fun with the story, don't forget to drop a Power Stone for me!