Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 204 Login
Stannis's assessment of the artillery was very accurate.

The eight cannons fire eight projectiles, each capable of single-target attack, with a three- to five-minute interval between rounds of firing.

Therefore, they sent out small, fast boats, using dispersed formations and rapid charges to reduce the area exposed to bullets. Even if they were extremely unlucky, some small boats would always survive and enter the firing range.

However, he was unaware that artillery shells were not limited to solid iron projectiles.

On the gun emplacement below the Tide-Breaking Tower, Baqu discovered these sneaky little boats.

"Load the shotgun!" Baqu ordered. "These idiots think they can sneak in? Let's show them what real firepower looks like!"

I learned this word from Lord Kao; it sounds very impressive. I'm just using it as I learn it.

The gunners moved swiftly, loading specially made shotgun barrels into the breech. Each barrel contained hundreds of iron balls and sharp metal fragments, making them even more lethal at close range than solid shot.

When the small boat entered firing range of 400 yards, Baqu swung his scimitar: "Fire!"

Davos was on the third ship when he suddenly heard the terrifying weapons roar, orange flames tore through the darkness, and a storm of metal swept across the sea like a rain of death!
A cloud of blood mist erupted from the ship ahead.

The first small boat was instantly riddled with holes.

That was Sir Richard Hope's ship.

Hundreds of iron balls pierced the thin hull of the ship at an astonishing speed, and the old knight was torn to pieces before he could even draw his sword.

Davos watched as the loyal old man was pierced through the chest by an iron ball, his white hair slowly falling down in the blood mist.

Even more terrifying, the flying metal fragments unsurprisingly struck the wildfire pot.

boom!
Green flames erupted instantly, engulfing the entire ship in a matter of moments.

Wildfire's nature allows it to continue burning even on water, its green flames greedily licking everything in their path.

"Ahhh!"

The crew members who fell into the water screamed in agony amidst the green flames, their skin charred black and their bones cracking under the intense heat. Some tried to dive underwater to escape, but the wildfire had formed a burning film on the water's surface, and they would be burned to death as soon as they surfaced.

In the second volley of bombardment, Sir Gerald Goyle's ship was hit, and the Stormland warrior was blown to pieces along with his vessel.

Davos saw his upper body fly into the air and then crash heavily into the burning seawater.

"Jump ship! Jump ship now!" Davos shouted, but it was too late.

The third round of shot was coming at them. He closed his eyes and waited for death.

boom!
The ship shook violently, and wood chips flew everywhere!
Davos was thrown into the air by the shockwave of the explosion and crashed heavily into the cold seawater.

He struggled to the surface and found himself miraculously alive; the shot had only hit the stern, and he happened to be at the bow.

But his companions were not so lucky. Sir Justin Marseille's throat was slit by a piece of iron, his body stained with blood, and his brave sailors were dying one by one.

Davos struggled desperately in the water, trying to escape the wildfire, his ears filled with screams and his nose filled with the stench of burning flesh.

He wanted to save people, but there were green flames everywhere, and if he touched even a little, they would spread all over his body.

In less than half an hour, he watched helplessly as all twenty attack ships were engulfed in flames. Only burning wreckage and floating corpses remained on the sea.

Davos grabbed a piece of driftwood and was slowly carried north by the ocean current. He survived once again, but living was more painful than dying.

"Why wasn't it me who died?" he murmured to himself, his tears mingling with the seawater.

He recalled Sir Richard's gray hair, Sir Gerald's courage, and Sir Justin's loyalty.

All these good people are dead, only he, the smuggler, is still alive. The gods are truly cruel!

...

The Iron Fleet's first officer boarded the ship again that afternoon, his face ashen. "Useless!" he roared at Stannis, spitting as he spoke. "Twenty ships! All lost! Is this how you use the Iron Treasury's resources?"

Stannis's fists cracked, but he had to force himself to remain calm; now was not the time to lose his temper.

“The enemy’s weapons are too advanced…” Davos tried to explain.

"Shut up!" the adjutant glared at him. "I don't want to hear excuses!"

After a moment, the adjutant's tone softened, "The Iron Treasury has decided to give you one last chance. We will provide 30,000 elite Braavos soldiers."

“Thirty thousand?” Davos exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes. Moreover, we have another 50,000 troops in the north, commanded by General Ferro, and they will arrive soon!"

The adjutant flashed a mouthful of yellow teeth. “These are professional soldiers hired by the Iron Bank at great expense. If you can capture Pentos, these 30,000 men will be under your command. You can take them back to Westeros and continue your ridiculous war for kingship.”

He paused. "But if you fail again, the Iron Bank will immediately withdraw all its investments and immediately look for other candidates, namely your enemies, understand?"

Stannis remained silent for a long time. Thirty thousand well-trained soldiers were enough to change the course of the war in Westeros and were the key force in his quest for the Iron Throne.

"I accept." He had no way out.

The adjutant nodded in satisfaction. "Three days from now, the army will be waiting for you at the Velvet Hills east of Pentos Bay. Remember, this is your last chance."

...

Three days later, at dawn, on the Velvet Hills coast.

Stannis led 30,000 Braavos soldiers to a successful landing. The landing site was a wide, flat area west of the Velvet Hills, which was advantageous for infantry to form ranks, but also an excellent battlefield for cavalry.

Braavos's army quickly assembled.

These professional soldiers were well-trained. The front rank consisted of heavily armored spearmen, wearing chainmail and carrying five-meter-long spears, with their shields closely linked to form a shield wall. In the middle was a mixed formation of swordsmen and archers, and the rear rank was the reserve force.

Stannis rode his warhorse at the very front of the army, his sword of light hanging at his waist, and the golden crowned stag on his black plate armor gleaming.

“Your Majesty, General Ferro is still nowhere to be seen,” Davos rode up to him, looking somewhat anxious. “But the scouts report that the Dothraki are gathering. Their numbers are roughly equal to ours.”

Before he finished speaking, a dark mass of Dothraki cavalry appeared on the horizon, led by Zheko.

The Dothraki were loosely organized, without heavy armor, wearing only leather armor and riding breeches, their quivers full of sharp arrows, and the pounding of their horses' hooves made their chests ache.

“Thirty thousand cavalry against thirty thousand infantry,” Dai Feng swallowed hard. “They can turn tail and run if they fail, but we are fighting with our backs to the river, with no way to retreat!”

"Maintain formation!" Stannis shouted. "Spearmen, prepare! Archers, take your positions!"

Just as the two armies were locked in a tense standoff, Salado Sann emerged from behind the lines with his trusted men.

“Your Majesty,” the old pirate approached with a beaming smile, “Salador has a suggestion. Perhaps we should negotiate first and probe their strengths?”

Stannis frowned at him: "This is not the time for negotiations, Salado, pick up your weapons and prepare for battle!"

“Oh, of course, of course.” Salado took a few steps back and gave his men a wink. “Go!”

(End of this chapter)