Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 13 Long Distance Attack

The setting sun dyed the Dothraki grass sea blood red, and the sky and the earth seemed to be soaked in blood.

Lazar led more than 500 Slak light cavalry and hid in the half-man-high weeds on the banks of the Saihelu River.

His braids and beard were hung with trophies, enemy rings, bells and broken bones. His shirt was bare, his muscles had a healthy wheat-colored luster, and the battle pattern on his chest was like a roaring beast's head.

He stared intently at an enemy vanguard unit marching not far away, about two hundred people, getting closer and closer to their hiding place.

"Brothers, kill them!"

At the command, the cavalry dispersed silently and gradually formed a fan-shaped encirclement.

At this time, the vanguard troops had not yet realized the danger and were slowly advancing on the grassland in groups of three or five, with their yarakhs still hanging on their saddles.

"Now!"

Lazar let out a low roar, and the messenger blew the horn. Five hundred light cavalry jumped up from the grass, uttering terrifying war cries and rushing into the enemy ranks.

Arrows flew through the air, and the enemy riders in the front row fell off their horses before they could even scream. Blood splattered everywhere, staining the grass beneath their feet red.

Lazar took the lead, his scimitar swift as the wind.

An enemy cavalry raised his scimitar to block, Lazar sneered, and the Damascus scimitar flashed like thunder, and the Arak scimitar and his palm flew into the sky!
The next moment, the blade slashed across the throat of the second enemy rider, and blood gushed out like a fountain!

He spurred his horse around the fallen corpse and cut the third enemy rider in half with another blow, scattering his internal organs all over the ground.

The strong smell of blood made his warhorse even more excited, and it roared and stomped the ground.

Gradually, the patrol fell into chaos. Seeing that they were no match for the enemy, the remaining enemy cavalry fled in all directions. But when they looked around, they found that there was nowhere to escape!
An enemy cavalryman turned his horse in panic, but was stabbed in the heart by Lazar from behind.

The corpse slid off the horse's back, fell to the ground, and stopped moving.

Lazar slashed and thrust his scimitar, and a bloody head was skewered on the tip of the knife, displayed to the surroundings as a demonstration.

The cavalrymen let out a deafening cheer and rode in a circle around the body, like wolves celebrating a kill.

The battle ended quickly, and the bodies of enemy soldiers were scattered all over the grass. Their blood dyed the dry grass a glaring scarlet.

The Jakarans, armed with huge axes, harvested heads from the dead and dying, and piled the enemy's weapons and armor into piles, ready to take them back to show off their achievements.

However, at this moment, in the distant mountains, a large group of people were approaching from the direction of Saihelu River, and their flags were fluttering in the wind.

Lazar narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze on the flag. It was a black horse-head flag. The main force of Fogo was coming!

As the team got closer, his eyes suddenly focused.

The one leading the troops was not Fogo, but his son Ogo!

Moreover, the person following him was none other than Jaco, the traitor of Karasa!
They actually cooperated!
Judging from the size of this cavalry, there are at least 30,000 of them, heading straight towards Dagger Lake!

If they had joined forces, Fogo would have had 30,000 cavalry and Jaco would have had 10,000, for a total of 40,000.

Well, since there are only 30,000 cavalrymen here, Laharo's 2,000 cavalrymen are likely to be facing 10,000 men!

Lazar's heart sank to the bottom in an instant, "Damn it! This news must be delivered to Laharo as soon as possible!" He immediately gave the order and prepared to use a falcon to deliver the letter. However, just as the warrior released the falcon, it was shot down by an arrow shot from the enemy cavalry. It let out a wail and fell to the ground.

In order to raid the Fogo base, Laharo had already led two thousand elite soldiers on a journey day and night. Now he is probably deep in enemy territory. Now the only Falcon is dead and cannot be contacted at all!
"Brothers, retreat first! Quick!"

The cavalry quickly assembled, and the Jakarans who were still peeling the corpses also jumped on their horses. Without even bothering to take the spoils, they turned their horses around and retreated quickly.

Lazar handed over the management of Cass to his deputy, and he kicked his horse and galloped in the opposite direction.

He would go find Rahalo and tell him the news as soon as possible! He would risk his life, because he was Rahalo's bloodrider!

My blood is my blood, my life is my life!
...

At the same time, Lahalo led two thousand of Khalasar's most elite warriors, each with three horses, galloping across the vast grassland like a brown torrent.

Each warrior had at least one Atak scimitar hanging around his waist. The scabbards bumped and collided on the horse's back, making crisp metal collision sounds. The horses' hooves rumbled, and the entire cavalry was like a storm passing by.

Under the crotch of Laharo was a majestic black stallion, 1.7 meters tall at the shoulder, with long limbs and a graceful gait. It was a purebred BMW presented by Illyrio, the Governor of Pentos. It was said that it cost him 230 gold royals.

This money is the price of two hundred Grass Sea horses, the annual salary of twenty knights, and enough for a peasant family in Westeros to work hard for two hundred years.

The long-distance run made the horses' bodies covered in sweat and dust, and white foam appeared on their mouths, but Laharo no longer cared about saving horsepower.

When he was tired, he slept on the horse's back; when he was hungry, he sipped fermented mare's milk; he took turns leading the team so that the horses in the team could have a little rest.

Two thousand warriors and six thousand horses rumbled through the Kohor Forest, and the team's speed slowed down.

Then he sent out a thousand scouts, spreading out in all directions like a huge net, searching for the trace of Fogo Khalasar.

The scouts are all experienced hunters, familiar with every inch of the grassland, able to distinguish the subtle scents on the wind and track the faintest traces on the ground.

A day later, a scout team returned exhausted and brought back important intelligence:
Southeast of the Forest of Qohor, near the edge of the forest, we found the Karasar of Fog!
Upon hearing this, Laharo was overjoyed and immediately ordered his troops to turn southeast. Two thousand men and six thousand horses marched quickly along the edge of the Qohor Forest.

As they got closer to the target, they became more cautious to avoid making any noise. The horse's hooves were wrapped with three layers of cotton cloth, and all the equipment was tied firmly to the saddle.

They are all warriors who have experienced many battles. Licking blood from the blade is commonplace for them. However, it is by no means easy to make these unruly prairie wolves as quiet as lambs.

The Dothraki people value freedom, love to fight recklessly on the battlefield, and declare their strength with roars. Military discipline does not exist, and there is not even a word for it in the Dothraki language.

In full view of the crowd, Laharo chopped off the heads of four people who made the loudest noise before he could barely suppress the warriors' restlessness.

Finally, at dusk, the large force arrived at the southeast edge of the forest.

Laharo pulled the reins of his horse, raised his hand to signal the troops to stop advancing, and ordered them to lie in ambush in the shadows of the forest.

The warriors dismounted, checked their horses' hooves and equipment to make sure everything was in best condition, and then led their mounts to rest under the trees.

Laharo shuttled between the teams, checking the "Flame Storm" they were assigned and instructing them one by one on how to use it.

As the warriors listened, they silently wiped their scimitars, gathered their strength, and waited for the darkest moment before dawn.

(End of this chapter)