Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 178 Hijacked

As the last rays of starlight faded before dawn, the east began to glow with a pale white.

The blood-themed troupe hurriedly fled south along the mountain path, the sound of their horses' hooves absorbed by the thick layer of decaying leaves, leaving only a faint rustling sound.

Wag-Hert rode at the very back of the column, glancing back every now and then to make sure there were no pursuers.

After a moment, he raised his hand to signal, "There are no pursuers for now, let's stop and rest."

Exhausted, everyone pulled on the reins and slid off their horses. The remaining twelve members of the Blood Opera Troupe sat together, warily surveying the surrounding dense forest.

More than twenty boxes of gold coins were stacked in the middle, shimmering with a golden light in the morning sun.

Uswick walked up to the box, offered a prayer, then grabbed a handful of golden dragons and stared at them with fascination.

"We need to calculate how much each person will get."

“Hmm,” Coburn frowned, starting to count on his fingers, “two million gold dragons, thirteen people in total…”

“Quickly calculate, Bachelor,” Shagway chuckled, “I can’t wait to know how many girls my money can buy!”

Coburn closed his eyes and muttered, "Two million divided by thirteen... approximately each person..."

"Damn it, aren't you a scholar?" Yi Ge impatiently slammed his Arak scimitar into the ground. "You can't even figure this out?"

"Don't rush, don't rush..." Seeing the wolfish gazes of the crowd, Coburn couldn't help but sweat. "Two million divided by thirteen... 153846 gold dragons per person."

Brother Ert narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint flashing within them. "Bullshit! It can't be a whole number!"

“I rounded it up…” Coburn stammered.

"What is rounding? What gives you the right to round?" Zorro tightened his grip on the scimitar.

"Wait!" Roger suddenly interrupted, "Isn't Pag dead? What about his share?"

Qyburn's face turned pale instantly: "Ah! Right! Pag is dead..." He started counting on his fingers again, and after a long while said, "That's... two million divided by twelve, each person... each person..."

"Damn it, by the Seven Gods," Uswick rolled his eyes, "Can't you even figure out something this simple?"

"166666 coins each!" Coburn finally announced. "After dividing them equally, there will be one gold dragon left over."

After a moment of silence, Shagvi suddenly burst into laughter: "Then, who should get this extra golden dragon?"

“Of course it’s me,” Wag immediately said. “I’m the commander.”

"Nonsense!" Yi Ge stood up. "I was the one who cut off Mysera's head! That golden dragon should belong to me!"

"Why should I?" Three-Toe roared. "Without me finding the hidden compartment, you wouldn't even know where the gold is!"

Brother Ert sneered, "You damned heretics! Before the Seven Gods, everyone is equal. You should decide by drawing lots!"

“If you ask me,” Coburn cautiously suggested, “that golden dragon should be given to the most seriously injured person…”

"Shut up!" Yi Ge roared, "You're the one who loves to drag us down the most. You took a sword wound, so why should you get that golden dragon?"

Before he could finish speaking, Yi Ge's scimitar had already sliced ​​through Koben's throat.

Blood gushed out, Kobe's eyes widened, he clutched his throat with both hands, staggered back a few steps, and finally collapsed to the ground!

"Alright, this is too much of a burden, let's divide it again!"

"Kill this Dothraki bastard!" Brother Ert roared, raising his warhammer. Yige, not to be outdone, engaged him in battle.

The battle broke out so suddenly that even Waghurst had no time to react.

Zorro's scimitar moved with lightning speed, slicing open Fang's throat with several swift strokes, while Yi Ge pierced Brother Ert's chest with a single strike.

Luo Erjie charged toward Yi Ge, but before he could get close, Yi Ge's scimitar had already slashed through his abdomen, spilling his intestines onto the ground.

Rolger's sword also pierced Yige's shoulder, but he was quickly cut down from behind by Zorro.

Shagway's axe cleaved Zorro, leaving a deep wound on his leg. Zorro screamed and fell to his knees.

But before Shagvi could press his advantage, Yige's scimitar had already severed his neck from the side.

In the blink of an eye, Qyburn, Brother Ert, Shagway, Rolger, and Fang all lay dead in pools of blood.

Only Wag, Yigo, Three-Toe, Tog, the heavily wounded Zorro, and Uswick remained alive. "You lunatics!" Wag roared, "Look what you've done!"

Yi Ge sneered, his blood-stained scimitar pointing at Wag: "Shut up! Get out of here if you don't want to die! This gold is mine now!"

"Yours?" Zorro lay on the ground, blood everywhere, still grumbling, "Don't forget me!"

"Of course, my dear brother." Yi Ge said perfunctorily, but there was no sincerity in his eyes. He gripped his scimitar and slowly walked towards him.

Uswick lost an arm in the chaos, not even knowing who did it. He clutched his severed arm, groaning in pain.

"You will be punished by the Seven Gods!"

"Go to hell with the Seven Gods!" Yi Ge suddenly stopped in his tracks and spat at him. "Where is your god? Let him come and save you!"

While the argument raged on, no one noticed that on the mountain road not far away, a group of riders had been quietly watching the drama unfold for quite some time.

Lahalo, Zheko, Lazar, and Baqu, along with thousands of Slark warriors, stared in disbelief at the bloody scene before them.

"Are these people idiots?" Baqu asked.

At that moment, the survivors of the Blood Opera Troupe also saw them, and were shocked, instantly forgetting their hatred for each other.

“Dothraki! You are Rahalo!” Varg’s face turned pale, and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Where did you steal all this gold?" Rahalo gestured with his chin toward the gold scattered on the ground.

"It wasn't stolen!" Wag hurriedly protested. "It's...it's our spoils!"

Ignoring Wag's warning look, Yigo shook the bells all over his head and shouted in Dothraki, "Lord Kao, I am also a Dothraki, please let me join your khalasar!"

Before Rahalo could react, he continued, "We killed the princess! She was your enemy too!"

Rahalo raised an eyebrow. "Which family's princess?"

“Princess Myrcella,” Zorro interjected in Dothraki, “she’s going to marry into Dorne, with a huge dowry!”

"You killed her?" Rahalo's voice suddenly turned cold. "A little girl?"

Zorro interjected, "Lord Kao, we've done you a favor! The enemy of my enemy is my friend! The Lannisters are your enemies, aren't they?"

Rahalo spat, "Who the hell is friends with someone like you who kills little girls?"

Rahalo turned to Lazar and said, "Hang them up in the tree, upside down!"

The Dothraki warriors sprang into action, and although Varg and the others fought desperately, they were powerless against dozens of whips.

Soon, the remaining members of the Warriors were tied up by their ankles with ropes and hung upside down from the tree. Blood gradually rushed to their heads, and their faces turned red from the effort.

Just then, the sound of horses' hooves came from afar.

Three Kingsguards, leading a group of men in golden robes, had just rounded a bend in the mountain when they saw the densely packed Dothraki army right in front of them. Their expressions changed drastically, and they yanked on their reins, forcing their horses to stop. The rear ranks collided with the front ranks, creating chaos.

The leader, dressed in white, had black hair and black eyes. He was lean and had a fierce appearance. His eyes darted around, clearly indicating that he wanted to turn around and run away.

Lahalo whistled, and the warriors blocked their retreat.

Seeing that running was no longer an option, the man forced a weak smile and said to the others, "Looks like we've gone the wrong way, guys."

Lahalo looked at the cavalry squad with interest and beckoned to the leader.

"Come here and speak. What brings you here, Imperial Guards?"

The three men in white robes exchanged a glance, mounted their horses, and rode up. The one in the lead glanced at the blood-themed opera troupe in the tree and cleared his throat.

“Lord Kao, my name is Polon, and beside me are my two colleagues, Liller Kreh and Osmond Kettering!”

"We are truly honored to meet Lord Kao! We mean no harm; we've only come to find these rubbish trees!"

Liller and Osmond cautiously surveyed their surroundings, their hands on their sword hilts, clearly ready to fight to the death at any moment.

Lazar, having heard Rahalo recount the gossip of King's Landing, was immediately intrigued. He spurred his horse and rode up to Osmond, sincerely asking:

"You're Osmond? I ask you, isn't Queen Cersei voluptuous?"

(End of this chapter)