Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 137 Full of Vitality
Lahalo led a thousand-man team and had just reached the foot of the mountain when the bugle call for retreat sounded from the mountain.

A moment later, a scout rushed over to report: "Sir! Someone's coming from the east!"

Rahalo looked up and saw a dark line appear on the distant horizon. As it drew closer, the outlines of the crowd became clearer.

Ahead were several camel leaders, followed by a dense crowd of hikers, oxcarts, and flocks of sheep, stretching for miles, raising clouds of dust.

“It’s them,” Nana saw them too, “The Lazarin people have really come!”

Rahalo rubbed his eyes; the anxiety and doubts of the past five days vanished in that instant.

Mili's people, who were also his mother's people, came across the vast grasslands in search of a new life, trusting him!

"Send word to prepare food and water, and get ready to welcome our guests!" Lahalo spurred his horse forward, leading fifty elite warriors to meet them!
After a while.

The two groups met on the plain: one group consisted of Dothraki warriors riding tall horses and carrying scimitars, and the other group consisted of Lazarin people pulling oxcarts and herding sheep.

The Dothraki generally viewed the Lazarin people as Hesilazi, while the Lazarin people viewed the Dothraki as nightmares.

However, at this moment, the two clans, who have been enemies for generations, are less than a hundred paces apart and are even living in peace.

The leader of the Lazarin people was a middle-aged priest with gray hair. He walked cautiously to the front of the group, his eyes full of vigilance.

Rahalo dismounted alone and walked forward, then bowed, performing a Lazarin greeting.

“I am Lahalo. My mother, Calvira, is from Lazarin, and my father is Kaozhulo.”

I made a promise to Miri to protect her people. Today, I will fulfill that promise.

The priest was stunned for a moment, his doubts vanished, and a look of excitement flashed in his eyes.

He slowly climbed down from the camel and walked toward Rahalo, whereupon he performed the same greeting.

“I am Priest Red Eagle. Respected Rahalokao, forty thousand Lazarin people have abandoned the land where their ancestors lived for generations and crossed the Grass Sea, all because of your promise.”

"Thank you. From this day forward, the valley south of the Golden Plains, west of the Lorne River, and between the Velvet Mountains, stretching south all the way to the Territory of Sorrow, will be the new home of the Lazarin people."

I have already constructed irrigation systems, leveled the land, and prepared new agricultural tools for you.

Moreover, with me and my warriors protecting you, you will not be plundered.

Red Eagle bowed deeply to Lahalo. Turning to the Lazarin crowd, he raised his hands, saying, "The High Shepherd has guided us to a new home!"

Suddenly, a thunderous roar of cheers erupted across the plain, echoing like thunder!

Small animals scattered and fled, while flocks of birds took flight. At this moment, the Lazarin people, who had long lived in fear, finally saw a glimmer of hope!

Led by Lahaluo, Red Eagle and several Lazarin elders began to tour their new home.

When they saw the enormous waterwheels that operated day and night along the Ron River, the crisscrossing irrigation systems, the windmills, and the compost yards, the elders stared wide-eyed, speechless.

"Is this a miracle?"

An elderly man with white hair, his voice trembling, reached into the waterwheel, scooped up some water, and drank it down, still incredulous.

“No, this is the wisdom of the ancients,” Rajalo said modestly. “Of course, I have also made a small contribution myself.”

As they passed the windmill, the enormous sails turned slowly in the wind, emitting a deep hum. The people of Lazarin were once again awestruck; many dared not approach these "miracles," only daring to observe from afar.

In sight, the heavy iron circular saw, propelled by the wind, swiftly cleaved the massive tree that the two men could encircle into two, then into four, all in less than ten minutes. If it were done by human hands, it would probably take a whole day!

With this amazing wood saw, their house will be built very quickly.

My hometown has suffered from drought and is now desolate and bleak. Yellow sand is gradually spreading towards my homeland, the riverbed is as dry as bones, and the tough, brownish-yellow devil grass has covered the farmland. Many people in my tribe are starving.

Otherwise, based solely on Mili's few words, no one would be willing to leave their homeland like this.

But what I didn't expect was that although the river level was also dropping, the area was full of life thanks to the water conservancy facilities. Compared to the current situation in my hometown, it was like paradise!
At sunset, Rahalo ordered a grand feast to celebrate the arrival of the Lazarin people.

Hundreds of cattle and sheep were slaughtered, and the aroma of stewed meat filled the plains.

Dothraki warriors performed dazzling equestrian stunts, while the Lazarin people offered Lahalo melodious pastoral songs and dances.

The banquet lasted until late at night.

The campfire illuminated the smiling faces of two once hostile peoples. The clinking of glasses and the singing mingled together, and under the influence of alcohol and music, the ancient animosity slowly melted away.

In the early morning, Lahalo showed them a farming tool, a curved plow.

The people of Lazarin are semi-agricultural and semi-pastoral, and they use straight-shaft plows, which are shallow and laborious to cultivate.

When Lahalo took out this curved plow, it still drew a lot of skepticism.

"Can this thing even be used?" Red Eagle glanced at it, shook his head and sighed, "Our ancestors used straight plows to cultivate the land for thousands of years and never saw such a strange thing."

Old people are often stubborn, so Lahalo didn't argue with him. He simply arranged for two cows and three handlers to test their mettle.

Chinese farmers, through their wisdom, have raised millions of people, a feat that medieval farmers could only dream of.

People gathered around to watch, their eyes filled with curiosity. After all, whether farmers go hungry or not depends on their yield, and they cannot afford to make any mistakes.

At Rahalo's command, the two oxen moved forward steadily. To everyone's astonishment, the plowshare of the curved plow easily cut into the soil, turning over thick clods of earth to a depth almost twice that of a straight plow. Even more astonishing was that the operator seemed to be doing it quite easily.

The priests of the Supreme Shepherd God, to put it simply, observed the weather, guided farming, and also assisted in lambing; in essence, they were agronomists.

Red Eagle understood the benefits of the curved plow in just one minute, and could no longer utter any strange words about it.

This is yet another amazing artifact!
Lahalo then revealed an even more shocking fact: "Traditional cereal crops yield about 30 to 45 kilograms per acre per year, and require fallow for one year out of every three years."

Deep plowing with a curved plow, combined with composting and irrigation systems, can yield 100 to 150 kilograms per acre, with no more than 15% of the land fallow. Doubling the yield is no problem.

"How is this possible?" A gasp of surprise erupted from the Lazarin people.

Lahalo continued, “You only need to pay elevenths of the tax, which is only a small fraction of the increased production, even if calculated based on 100 kilograms.”

Moreover, it's a long summer now, and if planted properly, with crops like barley and beans, it's even possible to harvest three crops a year from the same plot of land!

Red Eagle was completely in awe of Lahalo. He raised his hand to stop the noise and bowed solemnly to Lahalo.

"The Highest God has not only given the Lazarin people a new home, but also a new leader! On behalf of the Lazarin people, I pay you my highest respects!"

(End of this chapter)