Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 220 The Dothraki Have Arrived

Jaime Lannister rushed up the city wall and looked out to sea.

Forty Drogon warships, each with two hundred oars, sailed in like giant beasts, forming a battle formation.

Upon seeing the red flag with a black horsehair, Jaime frowned, then exclaimed in shock, "The Dothraki?"

Reality left him no time to think further.

The warships had already approached the shore, and the Dothraki on board roared with deafening battle cries, causing the defenders on the city walls to involuntarily swallow hard.

The first warship docked.

As the springboard was lowered, Dothraki warriors surged forth like a tide. They carried scimitars at their waists, their eyes burning with a fervent fighting spirit, and they were orderly and disciplined, hardly resembling the legendary barbaric tribe.

Rahalo was the last to land. He was tall, with long hair braided into countless small braids that hung over his shoulders. His obsidian eyes were surveying King's Landing.

Cersei, that madwoman, has offended everyone.

The Reach is ablaze with fury; not a single grain from the Seven Kingdoms' greatest grain-producing region will reach King's Landing.

Tywin was trapped in the Westerlands, facing attacks from six dukes, and was unable to spare any attention. He could not rely on anyone in the Vale to the north, and apart from the capital's garrison, the Lannisters had no other reinforcements.

Time was on his side; he had originally planned to cut off supplies and establish a prolonged siege. But now, Margaery was in the hands of the Lannisters.

Every extra day she waited meant another day of suffering for her.

Fortunately, no one knew about their relationship.

“Old Moso,” Rajalo called out.

Old Moso rode forward, shouting, "My blood, thirty thousand warriors have all landed and assembled!"

Rahalo looked around. The Dothraki army had already set up camp twenty kilometers north of the Blackwater River, nestled against the mountains and beside the water, with the King's Road right next to it and the Mud Gate directly in front of it.

"Where are the siege weapons?"

"The twelve cannons have been unloaded from the ship, and the siege towers and catapults are being assembled," old Mosso said methodically.

Rahalo nodded.

The dragons haven't grown to the point where they can carry people yet, the Valyrian steel cannons are still on their way, and 30,000 men is the maximum troop strength that can be achieved by cross-sea resupply at present, otherwise they would have to plunder on the spot. However, Laharo does not intend to do that.

After Barristan pledged allegiance, the first thing Lahallo asked him to do was to retake Dragonstone, and he did not disappoint, accomplishing it without firing a single shot, relying solely on his prestige.

Of course, he was followed by Daenerys and four dragons.

In the field of vision, the artillery positions were set up on a slightly higher hillside, with the cannons neatly arranged and their muzzles pointed towards King's Landing. When not attacking the city, these cannons served a defensive role.

The camp's perimeter was guarded by light cavalry, with tents sparsely scattered around. Engineers were busy digging drainage ditches and building makeshift roads to ensure the camp wouldn't turn into a mud pit even if it rained.

In the center, Lahalo's large tent stood tall, its red flag with a black horsetail fluttering in the wind.

Surrounding the camp were the tents of the Blood Oath Guards and officers, forming a tight protective circle. The entire camp was a perfect rectangle with straight roads and evenly spaced paths.

At this moment, Lazar also came over. "There's movement inside the city." He pointed to the walls of King's Landing. "They're mobilizing the garrison. It looks like they're going to hold out to the death."

Who is the opposing commander?

“Jaime Lannister,” he continued, “has at least five thousand defenders on the walls, along with a large number of ballistae and rolling stones, and a large number of cavalry inside the city.”

King's Landing is known as the most fortified city in the world, with high walls, thick ramparts, and wide rivers, making it easy to defend and difficult to attack.

No one in history has ever been able to break through it head-on.

Rahalo looked at the distant silhouette of the city wall and clicked his tongue. "Summon the generals and formulate a battle plan tonight."

...

The night was deep, but the tent was brightly lit.

A dozen or so generals sat around the map. Lahalo, without any formalities, pointed to the map and got straight to the point.
"King's Landing's walls are 25 meters high and 12 meters wide, making a direct assault unlikely to be effective. We need to launch attacks from multiple points to disperse the defenders' forces."

Old Moso stroked his beard. "What's the plan?" "A combined land and water attack." Lahalo drew several arrows on the map. "First, simultaneously, Quilo and Lacaro, each of you will lead two thousand warriors to launch feint attacks from the Gate of Gods and the Gate of Dragons, respectively. Meanwhile, Baqu will take the opportunity to lead the artillery to bombard the Mud Gate. Lazar will stand by, ready to launch a full-scale assault as soon as the city gates open!"

"And what about me?" Zheko asked.

"You and Garan will travel by water. After Quello and Lacaro attack, you and Garan will each lead ten Deromon warships, carrying siege towers, straight to the city wall, and launch an attack from the east and west sides of the Mud Gate."

Garland nodded in understanding.

“Be careful, all of you,” Laharo said sternly. “Whether the commander is Jaime or Tyrion, they are not easy to deal with. We must not underestimate them!”

Old Mosso stood up: "My blood, let me command the first attack. If this old bone of mine doesn't fight a few more battles, I'll never have the chance again!"

Looking at the old soldier who had always followed him, Lahalo felt a surge of warmth in his heart.

Old Mosso is indeed old, and even his Cass is mostly white-haired, but his experience and prestige are invaluable treasures.

Let old Moso lead the first attack; if successful, it would be a chance for him to make history.

"Good," Rahalo announced loudly. "Old Moso will lead the campaign, and the rest of you will coordinate!"

The meeting lasted until late at night, with every detail discussed in detail and contingency plans in place for each stage.

When the meeting adjourned, Lazar stayed behind.

"My blood, you're still thinking about Margaret?"

Rahalo paused for a moment, then nodded.

Margaret is now imprisoned by the High Sparrow in the dungeon of the Great Cathedral of Baylor, and she is pregnant with his child; every day she stays is dangerous.

He never imagined that Margaret would be so bold as to venture into the lion's den alone. If he had known all this earlier, he would have taken Margaret away no matter what.

Although she played a brilliant comeback, she still underestimated Cersei's ability to overturn the table.

Actually, you can't blame her. In the original book, besides the Tyrells, even Robert, Eddard, and Tyrion fell into Cersei's hands.

“We will rescue her,” Lazar said firmly. “And we will seize the Iron Throne. We will be victorious!”

"I hope so."

Rahalo looked toward King's Landing, where the patrolling guards on the walls carried torches, their flickering lights moving like ants.

...

Meanwhile, at Red Fort.

The royal council has announced an extension of the curfew; anyone remaining in the streets after the evening bell tolls will face death. This measure has restored order to some extent in King's Landing, reducing the number of corpses found in the markets each morning to a quarter of what it used to be.

Cersei Lannister stood by the window, the Dothraki camp on the opposite bank of the Blackwater River visible in the distance, countless campfires twinkling like stars, illuminating half the sky. Even from this distance, she could still hear the roars of the barbarians and the neighing of their warhorses.

"How many of them came?" Cersei asked in a trembling voice.

“At least 30,000.” James said gravely. “They also have a large amount of siege equipment and are well prepared.”

Cersei turned around, her face slightly contorted: "Thirty thousand barbarians! Can King's Landing hold out?"

"Yes. King's Landing is the most impregnable city in the land, unconquered for three hundred years. We have ten thousand defenders, with ample weapons and provisions. As long as we hold the walls, they can't touch us."

"But…"

“No buts,” James interrupted her. “Send word for martial law. All men to the city walls, and women and children to the cellars. Also, send someone to find the High Sparrow and have him boost the morale of the people.”

“What about Tommen?” Cersei suddenly remembered her youngest son and told Jaime her plan, “I want him to leave the city temporarily, disguised as a servant, and hidden away in Rossby or somewhere!”

Upon hearing this, Jaime's eyes flashed with helplessness. "Leaving the city is no longer possible. Don't forget, our opponents are the Dothraki. All roads are blocked, and there are at least two thousand scouts patrolling outside."

For the first time ever, Cersei silently prayed for divine intervention, "Joffrey must be brought up the walls. Only the king has the power to save King's Landing from this crisis!"

James gave a wry smile. "You'd better keep him in check and prevent him from doing anything foolish."

(End of this chapter)