Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 64 Brown Tide
Jiku took the order and returned to the camp, where he immediately selected three of his best riders.

Three riders rode out, swiftly passing through the streets of Pentos, their braid bells jingling as they faded into the distance with the sound of horse hooves.

On the street, people hurriedly moved to the sides, as if facing a strong wind, and in the blink of an eye, only three backs were left.

The guards at the city gate saw it from afar and did not dare to stop them, so they could only silently open the city gate and let them pass.

Outside the city gates, the straight Valyrian Road stretched forward, with green fields and gently sloping hills on either side.

Three riders galloped eastward on the avenue, holding their horses' bellies tightly, their bodies leaning forward, almost parallel to their horses' necks, their hooves stamping the ground, raising a large cloud of dust behind them.

On a ridge not far away, more than a hundred Golden Corps cavalrymen were waiting in formation, wearing half-plate armor and carrying crossbows. They were silent, only their mounts snorted from time to time.

"Stop them!"

Jon Connington, the leader, pointed his sword forward, "Leave no one alive! Kill!"

In his opinion, only dead Dothraki are good Dothraki, and the civilized world is definitely not a place where beasts like them can wreak havoc!

The Golden Company cavalry responded in unison, whistled, and urged their horses to go. Like a silver wave, they rolled down the hillside and rushed towards the Dothraki!

The three riders spotted the enemy, exchanged glances, and the leader shouted:
"Disperse! Go your separate ways!"

Immediately afterwards, the three war horses galloped in three directions respectively, and the riders drew their bows and arrows. The arrows tore through the air, making a buzzing sound, and accurately hit the three enemy soldiers in the front row.

"Damn barbarians!"

The Golden Company cavalrymen cursed as they drew their Myrish crossbows and fired at the Dothraki.

A dense rain of arrows poured down, and the two Dothraki were unable to avoid it. They and their horses were shot like hedgehogs and fell to the ground and died on the spot!

The last rider maneuvered swiftly on horseback, drew his scimitar to deflect crossbow arrows, and urged his horse to go at full speed.

Soon after, his mount was panting and its speed had obviously slowed down, but the enemy's second wave of crossbow arrows had already arrived.

"boom!"

A crossbow arrow pierced his right arm and the arrow went out from the front. He clenched his teeth and only used his left hand to hold the reins, barely maintaining his balance.

However, more crossbow arrows came one after another, and he was shocked and fell off his horse and fell heavily to the ground.

After a moment, he struggled to stand up, but when he looked down, he found that his body was full of arrows. His knees went weak and he fell to the ground.

He used his scimitar to barely support his body, not wanting to fall down.

On the opposite side, seven or eight Golden Corps cavalrymen, swords raised, slowly surrounded him.

The warrior was breathing heavily, blood was constantly flowing out of his wounds, staining the ground beneath him red, but he still stared at the surrounding enemies with fierce eyes, like a lone wolf struggling to survive.

A Golden Corps soldier approached cautiously, his longsword sweeping away the warrior's scimitar, a glint of greed in his eyes.

"It's a waste for a barbarian to use such a knife. It belongs to me!"

The warrior's scimitar slipped out of his hand and he staggered to the side. Suddenly, he leaped forward, pulled out an arrow that was stuck in his ribs, and stabbed it into the cavalryman's throat, causing two clusters of blood to spurt out!
One cluster is the enemy's, and the other cluster is yours!
The soldier's eyes were full of disbelief. He opened his mouth to scream, but only gurgling sounds came out. Blood gushed out of his throat and wound at the same time. His fingers scratched his neck in vain, as if this could stop the slip of life.

The soldier staggered a few times, knelt on his knees, and fell heavily to the ground, dead, his fingers still covering the wound.

"Damn it! He killed Davis!"

Seeing Davis fall, his companions were first horrified, then furious, and simultaneously thrust their swords forward! Blood spurted out!
The warrior braved the severe pain of the sword piercing his body and pounced on another soldier again, grabbed the other's armor and bit his nose tightly.

"Ah! Pull him away! Pull him away!"

The soldier let out a heart-wrenching wail, his sword dropped to the ground, and he scratched at the Dothraki's head with his hands, but he couldn't make him let go. Blood flowed down the faces of both men, and it was impossible to tell whose blood it was.

Seeing that there was only a bloody hole left on their companion's face, five or six Golden Group soldiers rushed forward with their eyes wide open. They stabbed the warriors with their swords randomly, and the sound of steel piercing flesh and blood continued.

The warrior's eyes gradually became blurred and his body fell backwards, but his teeth were still tightly biting the torn piece of flesh, and a strange smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Finally, he fell heavily to the ground, his chest no longer rising and falling, and he looked up at the sky with wide eyes, as if looking for the pure land in the dark night.

Warriors in the sky, are you riding on your burning horses and galloping across the night sky?

I'm here to join you.

A breeze blew across the grassland, bringing with it a strong smell of blood. A young soldier looked at this scene and couldn't help retching.

An old soldier patted him on the shoulder and whispered, "These are the Dothraki. They are true warriors. If you meet them on the battlefield, be careful!"

Jon Connington rode slowly over on his horse, lifted his mask, his eyes full of disgust, and spat a mouthful of thick phlegm at the warrior's body.

"Bury the bodies and retreat!"

The soldiers hastily threw the Dothraki into the ditch, covered them with weeds, gathered the bodies of their fallen comrades, and quickly returned to their hiding place.

There were 10,000 troops of the Golden Group and 36 war elephants.

...

Dust billowed up near the Velvet Hills.

Mosso left 10,000 cavalry to protect the Khalasar, while he himself led 20,000 men west along the Valyrian Way.

At the front of the team, Mosuo rode a chestnut horse, his bare chest covered with scars, each scar recording a victory.

Nymeria Sand followed beside him, her black braids hanging down in front of her chest, with a golden and red ribbon fluttering in the wind, making her look heroic.

She wore Dornish leather armor and a golden sash around her waist, a token from Rhaelor.

"Does the Blood of My Blood really need us?"

Old Mosso asked many of the same questions along the way. He was not being long-winded, but just wanted to confirm whether this Dornish woman was reliable.

Nymeria shook her head. "I do not know, but Rhaelor had his reasons. When he was still in the Reach, he sent me to bring the sash to you. He said that as soon as I reached the khalasar safely, you must depart."

Old Mosso snorted coldly and said, "It seems that the Blood of My Blood has long anticipated that the fat pig in Pentos is not honest! Humph, I will cut open the belly of that fat pig and make him eat his own intestines!"

Nymeria didn't answer, her fingers running across the sash as if she were caressing Rhallor's breast.

This disgusting bastard!
She was obviously Dorne's ambassador, a good fighter, beautiful, and capable at work, but that guy treated her like a coolie. Not only did she make great contributions, but he wanted to send her away with a string of broken pearls. How unreasonable!

Sooner or later, I will ride him!
Old Mosso didn't notice that Nymeria was making an expression. He looked into the distance and waved behind him.
"We've passed the Velvet Hills and are less than a hundred miles from Pentos. Speed ​​up!"

Immediately afterwards, horns sounded beside them, war horses neighed, and the dust raised by 20,000 Dothraki warriors covered the sky and the sun, like a brown storm, sweeping towards Pentos.

(End of this chapter)