Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 145, Section 144: I Want to Be a Centurion
As night fell, firelight began to rise on the grasslands. In the central command tent, Lahalo convened a war council with his blood allies.

“Kohol City has high walls and thick walls; a frontal attack would be futile.” Rahalo pointed to the clay model on the ground, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “But I already have a plan.”

Select ten thousand elite troops, all clad in wolf pelts, to impersonate Kohor wolf riders. Then select five thousand elite troops to pose as prisoners. Add twenty wagons laden with weapons, and feign a triumphant return to trick them into opening the city gates!

Rahalo stared intently at the astonished crowd, "Once the city gates are opened, no matter how high or thick the walls are, they will be unable to withstand the iron hooves of the Dothraki!"

Lazar slammed his fist on the table and exclaimed, "Excellent! Charge in and avenge Temokao!"

Old Moso frowned. "My blood is my blood. The city garrison is easy to deal with, but don't forget, there are still three thousand Unsullied in the city."

Laharo said, "So, after we rush into the city, we must fight them indiscriminately. With 15,000 troops, each of us will lead 3,000 men and break through the city's defenses from south to north, eventually meeting up at the north gate. However, we must not engage the Unsullied in direct combat!"

Once the city gates fall, the hooded priest will surely send the Unsullied back to defend the Black Goat Temple. Let's take control of the city first, and then deal with them later.

In their haste, they won't have time to resupply. If they surround the temple, they'll starve to death!

The Blood Alliance Guards all punched their chests with their right fists and responded in unison!

The next morning, Lahalo selected 10,000 cavalrymen, all of whom were dressed in wolf skins with wolf heads covering most of their faces. From a distance, they looked exactly like the Kohor wolf riders. Unless you looked closely at their faces or took off their wolf-head hats, you couldn't tell them apart.

Just as Lahaluo was preparing to lead his army into battle, a faint commotion arose in the distance. Warriors parted to make way for three thousand Lazarin stone-throwing soldiers.

The leader, Red Sheep, had a strange expression on his face. His maid, Nana, walked in front, carrying a package in her hand, her chin tilted back, and she had an arrogant look on her face.

She walked up to Rahalo, opened the package in her hand, and a hideous head rolled down to the feet of Rahalo's warhorse. Upon closer inspection, he was shocked to see that it was Muro's head.

The noise gradually subsided.

The warriors stared in disbelief at the frail handmaid and the head on the ground. The Blood Guards of Rahalo exchanged bewildered glances, and even a warrior like Zheko showed surprise.

“I killed Muro,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to be a centurion!”

Red Sheep stepped forward and confirmed this statement.

Arya breathed a sigh of relief.

Although Red Sheep didn't know what methods she used, he personally witnessed her leaving alone and returning with a severed head, and that testimony was sufficient.

"You want to be a centurion?" Rahalo asked.

"You said that whoever can kill the Kao of the five Kadoc tribes will become a centurion!"

Arya felt all eyes were on her, and she felt both nervous and excited. She couldn't help but puff out her chest, trying to make herself look taller.

"Pfft... Hahahaha..."

Before Rahalo could answer, the Blood Guards around him burst into wild laughter.

I don't know how she killed Muro, but she killed him. There are countless ways to kill someone in the world, and it's not entirely impossible. They would even accept it if it was just picking up a corpse.

However, the fact that a child, a little girl, could openly say that she wanted to be a centurion, or even a centurion under Laharo, certainly tickled their funny bone.

Any man who overestimated himself would have been killed long ago, but she was so tiny that she didn't even inspire them to draw their swords; all that remained was amusement.

Unexpectedly, Rahalo raised his hand to interrupt the laughter, stared at Nana, and said seriously, "I, Rahalo, keep my word. I don't care how you kill him, you will definitely get the position of centurion."

Old Moso wiped away the tears of laughter and interjected, "My blood of blood..."

Lahalo nodded to Moso, signaling him to calm down, then turned back to Nana, "But not now. A centurion needs not only merit, but also ability."

"If you can challenge any member of my personal guard, anytime, on horseback or on land, and win, I will allow you to become my centurion!"

Actually, Arya hadn't thought much about it along the way. All she could think about was seeing Rahalo's astonished expression, making him look at her differently, and stopping him from treating her like a cat to be carried around. That would have been enough for her. From childhood, she had always been underestimated.

In Winterfell, she was seen as a troublemaker by her mother and Sansa. In King's Landing, her father thought it was just childish play when he saw her practicing swordsmanship. But here, he promised to make her a centurion!

It was originally just an impulsive request, a way for her to express her desire for respect.

However, the ending was still unexpected.

He actually agreed, even though it was just a promise with no end in sight. She didn't know if it was just a perfunctory gesture, or if he would even remember it by then, but she had already taken it to heart.

The black warhorse suddenly raised its front hooves and crushed Mulo's head, while Lahalo's roar echoed across the grassland.

"Kadoc V: The Last Kao is dead!"

My handmaid, Nana, the future centurion, has brought us this honor!

Even Nana could kill Muro; this is a sign from the God of War. Our attack on Kohor this time will surely be invincible!

The Dothraki warriors erupted in deafening cheers, raising their scimitars high, which gleamed in the sunlight.

However, Arya found these words rather strange, but she couldn't hide her delight.

One day, she will return to Westeros, and when that day comes, she will no longer be an unknown, but Arya Stark, returning with warhorses and glory!
She couldn't help but imagine that if she had a thousand cavalrymen, those on the death list would surely die under her iron hooves!

Joffrey, Cersei...

Who was the other one?

forget……

Lahalo led ten thousand fully armed wolf riders, followed by five thousand elite warriors disguised as prisoners. They hung their heads, their faces smeared with blood, and their hands were tied with ropes as they slowly followed the wagon.

Two hundred carriages, covered with tarpaulins, concealed inside scimitars and bows and arrows.

Murki had washed off the blood and dirt, changed into a respectable commander's uniform, and rode majestically at the front of the column, but his forehead was covered in cold sweat.

"Remember your respective tasks after entering the city," Rahalo instructed Zheko. "Your task is the most important. You must take care of the guards on the city wall as soon as possible and hold the city gate until the main force of cavalry enters the city!"

Zheko punched his chest with his right fist, making a muffled sound: "Don't worry, this is my blood!"

Not far away, the Kohol city walls stood tall, and the figures of the guards were almost clearly visible.

Soon after, the wolf riders arrived at the walls of Kohor. Murki rode forward and shouted, "Open the gates! Lord Murki has returned in triumph!"

On the city wall, a lookout peered out. "It's Lord Murki! Please wait a moment while I go and inform him!"

"Open the door!" Murki shouted impatiently. "We've driven back those steppe barbarians and brought back a large number of prisoners!"

The lookout did not answer, and his figure disappeared on the city wall in an instant. Time passed by, and the group waited for a full hour before the lookout returned, accompanied by a hooded priest.

"Lord Murki," the lookout called out, "the priest says you can set up camp outside the city to rest. The priest will personally lead men out to reward the troops, and we will enter the city tomorrow!"

Murki's expression changed drastically: "Nonsense! We're exhausted and have wounded soldiers with us, how can we spend the night outside the city?"

At that moment, the hooded priest's chilling voice drifted down, as sharp as sandpaper, "Murki, the eyes of the Black Goat God have seen strange omens. I must purify you first, lest you bring misfortune into the city."

On the city wall, archers had already quietly taken their positions, and all the Blood Guards were casting pleading glances at Rahalo.

(End of this chapter)