Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 38: Capturing Garland Alive
Garlan slashed the last Dothraki with his sword, and blood splattered on his face, warm and sticky.

Corpses were lying all over the open ground, and blood formed glaring puddles, some of which were from our own people and some from the enemy. The air was filled with a strong smell of blood, which was nauseating.

"Warrior, please accept the souls of those who died in battle, whether they were friends or enemies, they have shown courage and honor before you. Please grant them peace and tranquility, and allow them to return to your arms..."

Garland knelt on one knee, held the hilt of the sword with both hands against his forehead, silently recited the prayer, kissed the hilt, and then stood up.

He wiped the blood off his face, looked around, and after confirming that there were no survivors, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Count the number of people!" he whispered.

Upon receiving the order, the scouts began to count the casualties and confiscate enemy weapons.

Garland lifted the tent curtain, and found it empty inside, with only some simple daily necessities scattered on the ground.

"It looked like they left in a hurry."

Garland picked up a hide wine bag, opened it and smelled it. The fishy smell of kumis hit his nose. He tilted his head back suddenly, staggered by the smell, and quickly threw the wine bag aside.

He picked up another enemy weapon and examined it, running his fingers over the blade, admiring the ripple-like patterns on it.

Then, a chill came over me. The Dothraki's smelting skills even surpassed those of Westeros!

If their weapons were all of this quality, the Westeros army composed of a group of tenants and freemen would be no match for them!
At this time, a scout ran towards him. Although he had won the battle, he still had a frightened expression.

"Sir Garlan, including the enemy just now, a total of thirty-two people have died."

Garland frowned, "What about us?"

"We," the scout swallowed, "we lost forty-three..."

Garland was stunned, a trace of sadness rising in his heart, and then he nodded slightly.

The Dothraki were more difficult to deal with than he had imagined. With two hundred elite soldiers attacking together, there were thirty-two other enemies in total. There were only a dozen of them at most in the melee just now. If one wanted to kill a Dothraki, he would have to pay with the life of one or more elite warriors!
What's more, the opponents were all shirtless, while ours were all wearing armor!

After a brief rest, Garland led his troops to continue advancing towards the inner fort.

When they arrived in front of the inner castle, they saw that the gate was open and there was no guard at the door. Garland couldn't help but feel a little confused.

Why didn’t the sound just now attract attention?
"The main force will stay outside to guard, and you few will follow me in to investigate the situation!" Garland selected a dozen of the most elite knights and followed him in.

The corridors of the inner castle were eerily quiet. The faint flames flickered on the torch stands, casting long shadows behind them.

Garland's heart trembled. He slowed down his pace and looked around vigilantly. After a moment, he suddenly raised his hand, signaling the team to stop. "Something's wrong!"

At this moment, a teeth-grinding sound of metal friction came from behind him. Garland turned around suddenly and saw that the main door was slowly closing.

"There's an ambush! Retreat!" Garlan's eyes were bloodshot, he roared, and rushed towards the main gate with all his strength!

He was getting closer and closer to the gate. Finally, the gate made a deafening thud and closed mercilessly in front of him!

The knights pounded on the gate desperately, but the gate did not move at all, as if it was an insurmountable chasm that completely isolated them from the outside world.

Garland's heart sank to the bottom and he blamed himself immensely.

This was a trap, he should have known it long ago, but he jumped in without hesitation like a fool!
At the same time, outside the door, the shouts of the Dothraki exploded like thunder. The sound of swords clashing, screams, and neighing of war horses intertwined into a symphony of death, constantly tearing at Garlan's nerves.

He seemed to be able to see the tragic scene of blood flowing like a river outside, soldiers falling in groups under the scimitars of the Dothraki, and blood staining the ground red...

He leaned weakly against the cold door and slid to the ground, listening to the desperate cries of his comrades. It seemed like a year had passed, and finally, everything fell silent, leaving only the war cries and cheers of the Dothraki.

Suddenly, a warm, sticky liquid slowly flowed in from under the door, soaking his clothes and boots. Garland looked down and saw that it was the blood of the soldiers, the blood of his comrades!

Deep in the inner castle, a series of powerful footsteps came from afar, accompanied by the pleasant sound of bells, but to Garland's ears, it was like the sound of the god of death crawling out of hell and reaping lives.

Garlan maintained the pride that a noble should have, quickly climbed up, held his head high and chest out, and a dozen knights surrounded him in the middle. He looked around nervously, trembling all over.

The footsteps were getting closer and closer, and finally, a tall and handsome young man came over, surrounded by a group of ferocious Dothraki.

His temples were shaved, and his thick black hair was tied into a braid at the back of his head, with bells jingling on his hairline.

The Dothraki warriors who followed him were all wearing double armor, with black tassels fluttering on their heads. They were armed to the teeth and exuded a murderous intent. They were completely different from the naked warriors outside!

...

Laharo stopped a few meters away, his eyes wandering over Garlan and the knights, as if he was looking at a group of lambs to be slaughtered.

After a moment, he spoke in fluent Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms: "Who slew my champion? Tell me your names, knights of Westeros."

Garlan raised his head and spoke slowly, "I am Garlan Tyrell of Highgarden, the second son of House Tyrell. These are my followers."

A dozen knights were moved by his words and all straightened their backs. Although surrounded by swords, they still maintained the dignity that a knight should have.

"It turned out to be Ser Garlan Tyrell. What a pleasant surprise!"

Laharo gave Garland a thumbs up. He was able to break through layers of defense and fall into the trap in the inner castle. His strength should not be underestimated.

It is very easy to make the empty city plan look real. Just let the warriors act in their true colors. Those lazy military disciplines need to be taught a lesson.

It’s not that no one else came to investigate, but they all ran away after a sneaky look. Unexpectedly, a big fish was caught in the first net, which saved them several years of hard work!
Yes, this place is great, I will come again next time!
What's the point of the Dothraki fighting each other? It will only waste their strength. Let them come too. Even without dragons, he believes that he can still unify the Dothraki nation with his brain and scimitar!

Garlan continued, "You Dothraki, entering the borderlands without permission, aren't you afraid of provoking resistance from Westeros?"

Lahalo looked at the knights behind Garlan. They protected Garlan in the middle, with their swords all pointed at Lahalo, and the warriors also raised their scimitars, ready to kill them on the spot at any time.

A bloody battle is about to break out!
Garland also sensed the tension and immediately said to everyone, "Put down your weapons, we surrender. Unnecessary sacrifices will not bring glory!"

"But, Sir Garlan..." A knight said with a look of resentment, "I am just a mercenary knight. I don't have the money to redeem myself. If I am captured and made a slave, I would rather die in battle!"

"Let go! Gods, I won't give up on any of you!

If we die, let’s die together!
If you want a ransom, I, Garland, will redeem you safely even if it means I lose everything I own!"

He looked at Rhahalo and said loudly, "I believe that the Dothraki will not kill those who lay down their arms. You also have your honor, my lord. Am I right?"

At Garland's insistence, more than a dozen followers laid down their weapons and surrendered.

Laharo waved his hand, signaling Jiku to put away his weapon.

"You have a sense of honor, Ser Garlan," Rhallor said. "You are more noble than the nobles of Westeros who are usually content with empty talk."

"Thank you for the compliment. I admit defeat, but no matter what, the knights of Westeros will never surrender to foreigners!"

"I remember that the ancestors of the Tyrells were Andals of Essos," Rhallor sneered. "As a foreign race, you killed the First Men and occupied this land. Now you tell me that we Dothraki are invaders? Spare me the high-sounding rhetoric.

Now, please tell me, how many gold dragons would the Tyrells be willing to pay for your life?"

(End of this chapter)