Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 197 Peeping at Military Secrets
The tent fell silent. Everyone stared greedily at the pelt.

The Heracles are the most ferocious beasts in the Dothraki Sea, nearly five meters long and incredibly strong. Even the bravest warriors would find it difficult to kill an adult Heracles alone, and obtaining such a complete and beautiful pelt is even more challenging.

"My God, this is real Heraka fur!" a mercenary leader exclaimed enviously.

"I've never seen anything like it in my life!" another person exclaimed. "How much is this worth?"

In the free trade city-states, a complete Heraca pelt could fetch at least a thousand gold dragons. It was not only a symbol of wealth, but also a testament to courage and strength; only the most powerful warriors could acquire such trophies.

General Ferro then inquired about the hunting of Heraca, and Oberon, to avoid arousing suspicion, lied and said that Heraca had fallen into a trap.

He picked up the fur and examined it closely, stroking the pure white pelt as if he were caressing a woman, his hands trembling slightly with excitement.

“This…this is too precious,” Ferro said, looking at Oberon. “How could I possibly accept such a valuable gift?”

Although he said it that way, the longing in his eyes was obvious. As General Braavos, he had seen countless treasures, but something like the Heraka fur was truly a rare find.

“General, you flatter me,” Oberon said respectfully. “This is merely a small token of the Brotherhood of Strong Men. It is our honor to serve a hero like you!”

"No, no!" Ferro waved his hand. "No one should accept a gift without having done something right. How about this, what kind of return gift do you want? Just name it!"

Oberon secretly exchanged a glance with Laharo, and the prince seized the opportunity to say, "General, if you really feel bad about it, then I do have a small request."

"What request do you have? Just say it!" Ferro waved his hand generously.

“My warriors are all brave warriors. Our mercenary group is relatively new and we are mostly merchants, so we haven’t been able to equip our warriors with full armor. I’ve heard that the artisans in Braavos are highly skilled. I wonder if they could…?”

"Haha!" Ferro laughed upon hearing this. "Such a small matter? Too easy!" He turned to his adjutant: "Cerio, take him to the armory and let them choose whatever they like!"

Serio was naturally wary of strangers. But the general had already given the order, and in front of so many people, he couldn't object. After hesitating for a moment, he heard Ferro urge, "What are you still standing there for?"

"Yes, General." Serio could only nod in agreement.

Oberon bowed deeply: "Thank you for your kindness, General!"

General Ferro tried on the Heraka pelt, and the other mercenary leaders cast envious and jealous glances at him. The Strong Brotherhood instantly became the focus of the entire event.

He waved his hand: "Of course, of course! Warriors like you deserve the best equipment."

Having said that, he turned to the crowd, raised his glass, and said, "Gentlemen, to the Zhuangzhuang Brotherhood! To the impending victory!"

"Cheers!" Cheers erupted again from inside the tent.

Oberon followed Serio through rows of tents toward the rear of the camp.

“Red Hand Carl,” Celio said as they walked, “you did a very good job at the banquet. The general appreciates you.”

“General, you flatter me,” Oberon said modestly.

“You really know Kohol,” Celio said thoughtfully. “There are some details that even our spies don’t know.”

Oberon felt a chill run down his spine, but remained outwardly calm. "My wife is from the Vermuer family. She overheard these things during a meal, but after Kohol's defeat, we ended up in Iban doing business. I never expected that this intelligence would still come in handy."

Serio suddenly stopped in his tracks. "So, which family are you from?"

“It’s a small family, General, you wouldn’t have heard of it,” Oberon said vaguely. “Our family has long since declined, and I’m just an adopted son-in-law, so let’s not talk about it.”

Serio stared at Oberon for a moment, then continued walking forward. "We're here. This is our armory."

What appeared before Oberon was the only wooden warehouse in the entire camp, with one wall alone stretching over a hundred meters.

Hundreds of guards stood outside, all fully armed, vigilantly watching their surroundings. There were also no fewer than three patrol teams, and hunting dogs followed them.

“Go in and take a look,” Celio said, showing the guards a golden token. “This is the general’s warrant.” The guards immediately made way, and Celio led Oberon into the armory.

The enormous warehouse was filled with countless weapons and equipment: longswords, spears, bows and arrows, crossbows, armor, and everything imaginable.

"How about it?" Serio said smugly. "Isn't this armory spectacular?"

“Truly spectacular,” Oberon exclaimed. “These weapons are enough to equip another ten thousand men!”

“More than that,” Celio simply corrected, then fell silent. “Hurry up and choose,” Celio urged, “we should go back after we’re done.”

The armor in the warehouse was of good quality, including both lightweight chainmail and heavy plate armor.

Oberon began carefully selecting armor, trying it on while secretly observing his surroundings for signs of wildfire.

However, apart from various weapons and equipment, no suspicious items were found in the warehouse.

Oberon was somewhat disappointed. Could the intelligence have been wrong?

Or is the wildfire not even here?

“This one is nice,” he said, pointing to a set of plate armor with brass trim. “I’ll take this one.”

Serio nodded and beckoned for the soldiers to carry it.

"Isn't that enough?" Serio urged. "It's getting late, we should head back. The general is still waiting."

"The general said that the soldiers in our regiment also need equipment."

As Oberon spoke, he noticed an inconspicuous spot in the corner of the warehouse: a thick iron plate that looked like the entrance to a cellar, with several heavy iron locks on it.

Oberon pretended to be picking out equipment and came to the iron plate. Although it was locked, it was not locked tightly, and there were gaps at the edge of the iron plate. He bent down and looked into the gap.

The cellar was pitch black, but by the light of the fire in the warehouse, one could vaguely see many earthenware jars laid out below. Each jar was marked with a skull pattern and emitted a strange smell.

Wildfire! It really is here!

"What are you doing?" Serio's expression changed drastically, and he shouted angrily, "Unauthorized viewing of military secrets is punishable by immediate execution under military law!"

Oberon quickly stood up, his face filled with fear. "I'm so sorry! I was just curious, I meant no harm!"

Serio's face darkened as he stared at him for a long while. "Curiosity can kill you. This isn't a place for you to look!"

"Yes, yes, I was wrong," Oberon apologized repeatedly. "Please forgive me, Lieutenant."

Serio took a deep breath, suppressing his anger. "Fine, for the sake of the general, I'll let it go. But if there's a next time, he'll be beheaded!"

"There will absolutely not be a next time!" Oberon patted his chest and guaranteed.

Serio snorted and turned to leave, instructing his soldiers as he went, "Prepare another twenty-four sets of chainmail for them and then leave."

Oberon was secretly delighted, but on the surface he still pretended to be terrified.

He and his soldiers lifted their armor and followed Serio out of the warehouse.

“Remember,” Celio stopped at the warehouse door and said in a deep voice, “everything you saw tonight is to stay inside. If I find out you’re talking about it everywhere…”

“Understood, understood!” Oberon nodded repeatedly, making a gesture to seal his mouth. “I didn’t see anything, and I won’t say anything.”

Serio nodded in satisfaction and led them back to the camp.

(End of this chapter)