Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 2 Searching for Iron Ore
The night was dark, and the camp was lit up and down by the campfire. The noise gradually died down, leaving only the sound of the night wind.

The tent curtain was suddenly lifted up, and a warm wind mixed with the smell of sweat rushed in.

Rahlo looked toward the doorway and saw three figures entering, led by Drogo's bloodrider, Coholro.

His body blocked the moonlight, and he had a sinister smile on his lips, not disguising the contempt in his tone.

"You can't get away, son of the goat man!"

Before he finished speaking, the two blood guards behind him laughed sinisterly.

Laharo sat on an animal-skin mat with some drawings scattered in front of him. On them were the design drawings and production processes of the Damascus scimitar that he had drawn based on his memories of his previous life.

He glanced at them calmly, his eyes as calm as a bottomless lake.

"You're still doodling even when you're about to die!" Cohollo glanced at the blueprint with disdain. "Without Khal Dro's protection, you're nothing but a lost dog!"

These idiots, whose brains are all muscle, obviously underestimated the significance of these graffiti.

Rhahalo slowly stood up and faced Coholro. "You are only Drogo's lackey. You don't even have the courage to look Khal Dro in the eye."

Cohollo's face instantly turned pale, and he pointed his arakh scimitar at Rahalo's throat. "Boy, you're courting death!"

Rahalo slowly pushed the blade aside, a slight smile on his face. "In seven days, I will challenge Drogo. It's not your turn now. If Drogo knew you stole his opponent, you know how he would punish you."

"Sheepman, I hope you can live to see that day!"

Cohollo gritted his teeth, threw down a few words, and turned to leave the tent.

After the three blood guards left, there was another rustling sound outside the tent, and then Mirri walked in again.

"You could have killed them all and shown Drogo your power!"

"They are still useful." Rahalo slowly sat back down, "At least now is not the time to kill them.

When the time is right, I will use their heads to prove to the entire Grass Sea that I, Rahul, am the khal who can bring them glory!

...

The next morning, a red sun rose from the east, illuminating the vast Dothraki grass sea.

Laharo carried a huge package and rode his warhorse out of the camp, heading deep into the grassland.

The purpose of his trip was to look for iron ore.

The Dothraki Grass Sea has not been developed to any extent. Deep in my memory, there is a dark red land on the Grass Sea, which is likely to contain iron ore.

The Dothraki never cared about any mineral resources. Most of their ironware came from looting, and their iron smelting technology was very crude, so they could not create the sophisticated weapons he wanted.

His strength is three times that of his original self, but not three times that of Drogo. To be on the safe side, he must find the iron mine and forge a weapon that can change the situation of the battle.

Laharo walked along the path between the hills and the river valley, searching carefully among the withered grass and exposed rocks.

Suddenly, a metallic luster in the sunlight caught his attention.

He dismounted, walked toward the shiny stone, squatted down, and brushed the dirt off the surface of the stone with his hand.

In the sunlight, the cross-section of the stone has a dark red metallic luster, which is very conspicuous.

Laharo suddenly became excited, picked up another nearby stone, and squeezed it hard. The weathered layer on the surface shattered, revealing the hard metal texture inside. The cross-section showed a unique honeycomb structure.

Based on my understanding of geology from my previous life, this is extremely high-grade hematite!
The grasslands were relatively stable, and in ancient times, they might have been a shallow sea or lake, allowing iron to accumulate. He looked around, and saw scattered hematite ore everywhere in the surrounding hills and valleys!

The Dothraki hated this kind of rocky wasteland the most because it was so easy to break a horse's leg.

No one dares to mine under the Dothraki's noses unless they want to die.

That’s why this iron mine has been preserved to this day, and all of it has become his treasure!
He stopped at a riverbank and piled up the collected ore.

At this moment, a familiar voice sounded behind him: "What are you doing? Will these stones help you challenge Drogo?"

Rhahalo turned around, and it was Mirri again.

I don’t know how this woman caught up with me. She always haunts me and appears and disappears mysteriously.

He always wanted to complain that her medicine was totally ineffective, her original body had died long ago, and she didn't even know that her soul had been replaced by someone else, so how could she be a witch?
Could it be that her blood magic was unreliable and she didn't even know that she had summoned the soul of Rahalo from another world?

Thinking of this, Laharo shuddered and decided to ignore her and continue to work.

He took out some graphite that he had found while collecting hematite, as well as some dry clay from the leather bag he was carrying.

Laharo ground the graphite ore, mixed it with clay, and kneaded it vigorously to create a sticky mud.

Then, fill the clay into the mold and pat it down hard to make a simple crucible.

He dug a furnace pit on the riverbank, piled up river mud and clay into a furnace, left ventilation holes on the side, lit the charcoal, and began to burn the crucible.

"You're ridiculous, Rahalo."

Although Mili sneered, a strange light flashed in her eyes. "Perhaps even the gods will favor a joke like yours. After all, no one would be stupid enough to smelt iron on the grassland..."

Before she could finish her words, she was interrupted by a crisp crash.

Laharo walked aside and took advantage of the time when the crucible cooled down to place the hematite ore on the stone slab. He picked up the hammer and chisel and hit the ore again and again.

Sparks flew and gravel flew everywhere. With his extraordinary strength and endurance, he used the most primitive method to smash the ore into small pieces, making it easier to melt the iron ore.

“Without an experienced blacksmith, you can’t make decent iron.”

After all, Mirri was a scholar who had studied at the Citadel in Oldtown, and she had long discovered Laharo's intentions.

"I am an experienced blacksmith." Rahalo drew his dagger, pointed it at Mirri, and said coldly, "Speak another word, slave, and I will kill you!"

Mili took a step back in fright, but soon, a strange smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, revealing two rows of black teeth.

After some effort, Laharo finally smashed the ore into small pieces, put the pieces into the crucible, added limestone in a ratio of ten to one, and spread a layer of charcoal on the bottom of the crucible.

The crucible looked very rough, but for a theoretical player like him, he had done his best.

Use hay and branches to ignite the fire, then stuff charcoal into the furnace, pull the bellows, and the fire will gradually rise.

The bellows were made of animal skin and wood, borrowed from the blacksmith in Khalasar. They were very crude, but they could barely provide wind power.

Next, place the crucible into the furnace. The flames grow stronger and stronger, the charcoal crackles, and waves of heat come to your face.

The temperature gradually increased, and the flames changed from dark red to a dazzling orange-yellow.

Laharo's whole body was as wet as if he had been washed, but he didn't care and kept his eyes fixed on the fire.

(End of this chapter)