Game of Thrones: The Black Dragon King

"Can someone translate?" Reed called out, turning his head.

"I'll give you a rough summary, just listen to what I have. He said that as a blood oath guard of Bobolkao, he wants to avenge his khao, and he demands that the coward in iron armor, uh, I mean you, duel him..." O'Ilis translated, being a businessman, he does have some talent for languages.

Reid frowned. He hadn't expected to nearly be hit by a dart in the stands, let alone that someone would specifically challenge him by name. He looked at Pardara, his eyes full of accusation: "You arranged this show? Is this what you mean by 'the real performance is yet to come'?"

"No, no, no, this was absolutely not my doing. It's a misunderstanding. I didn't expect the Unsullied to be wiped out, allowing the centaurs to acquire throwing weapons..." Pardara chuckled awkwardly. He quickly waved for the guards to subdue the Dothraki warrior, explaining, "But would you consider accepting his challenge? It's a good opportunity to earn honor and demonstrate your strength."

"Do you think I'm your slave? You want me to put on a show for you? Or is this some new Meereenian scheme to rob and kill?"

Pardara hurriedly explained, "Please don't misunderstand. Gladiators are a special group and cannot be treated as slaves. Some of them are free swordsmen, riders, or even nobles from the Western Continent who come here to fight for honor. We will select talents here and even promote military generals..."

"Hush!" "Hush!" Before they could continue their discussion, a chorus of mocking shouts erupted from the stands.

In the stands, there was never a shortage of spectators who loved a good show. The wealthy and influential Meereen, who had no shortage of translators, already understood the whole story. They responded to Reid's cowardly delay with scornful boos.

The arrogant slave owners commanded their slaves in a Valyrian language mixed with Githian script. The slaves, receiving the instruction, shouted out a tempting price in Common: "My master is willing to pay 1000 gold coins for your bravery!"

"My master has offered 2000 Gold Coins!"

"5000 Gold Coins!"

······

Reed was so angry he laughed.

It took him a long time to suppress his anger. Reid silently memorized the badges hanging on the boxes where the highest bids and the most offensive insults were delivered.

Meanwhile, the bounty for accepting the challenge had risen to 10000 gold coins.

"I'm a mercenary now, so my words and actions have to match that persona," Reed muttered to himself, his tense face slowly relaxing as he looked at Pardara: "As your guest, being attacked in your private room, a fair compensation is a reasonable request."

Now that money is being discussed, things are much easier. Pardara's expression became more natural: "Of course."

"You need to make sure those people fulfill the prices they promised."

Pardara's lips curled into an uncontrollable grin: "That's natural."

"Then please arrange for the gate to be opened, my cavalry need to enter."

"Of course!" Pardara exclaimed with delight, then suddenly realized, "Wait a minute, you've brought cavalry with you?"

"What's the point of a one-on-one fight? I'll use ten men to wipe out the rest of the Dothraki."

"Are you crazy? Those are over seventy roaring warriors!"

"What's wrong with fighting a defeated opponent again?" With that, Reed tossed the signed betting slip to the new bettor.

"How much did you bet?" O'Ilis asked, leaning closer.

"I'm betting my entire fortune on myself!"

"Gulp~!" Pardara swallowed hard.

······

The emcee proclaimed in a high-pitched voice: "Distinguished guests, honored businessmen, and esteemed audience members, it is my honor to introduce Ironwall, Liberator, leader of the Black Dragon Mercenary Group, and man of his word—Reid Seris."

Amidst mixed cheers, Reid led his horse archers into the arena. He himself was clad in heavy plate armor, his helmet strapped to his back, with lances, hornbows, and quivers attached to hooks on either side. Behind him, about half the length of his horse, stood nine Arab horse archers in a line.

"He truly meant what he said. Tempted by the bounty of ten thousand gold coins, the greedy mercenary leader finally accepted the duel challenge from Fiago, a blood-sworn guard of Boberkao..."

Reed glanced at the emcee and memorized his appearance.

"With the blessings of the Harpy and all the saints, and witnessed by the great families of the Lords, they will settle their score in a massive melee! Ladies and gentlemen, let us wait and see—will it be money? Or oaths? Which side will ultimately prevail!"

Led by Bloodfist Guard Fiorgo, the Dothraki Roaring Warriors roared with frenzied cries. Their restless warhorses reared up every now and then, their hooves striking the arena floor with a chilling rhythm.

Reid's face was ashen. He slowly drew a whistling arrow and nocked it on the bowstring. Seeing this, the horse archers behind him drew three arrows, nocked one on the bowstring and held it with their left hand, while holding the arrowheads of the other two with their right middle, ring, and little fingers.

"Dong~~~~!" The gong signaling the start of the fight rang out, and the entire arena seemed to be paused, all the noise freezing in that instant. Reid's gaze was fixed on the opposing leader, Fiago; it was a silent contest.

Feogo was equally determined, brandishing his scimitar and roaring to inspire the warriors behind him. The Dothraki warriors were emboldened; the neighing of their warhorses and the roars of their warriors mingled, creating a wave of fighting spirit.

Both sides charged forward on horseback at the same time.

Redd drew his bow, feeling the rise and fall of his mount. The instant his horse's hooves left the ground, a whistling arrow flew towards the Dothraki cavalry. Immediately following the arrow's signal, nine arrows pierced the air, hurtling towards the Dothraki warriors. Fiago reacted quickly, deflecting Redd's arrows with his sword, but his warriors were not so lucky. Several screams rang out as several fell from their horses, struck by arrows.

Reid tilted his body slightly to the side, and his intelligent warhorse immediately turned around. The horse archers followed closely behind, circling the Dothraki charge in a beautiful arc. Their bows and arrows, however, were not idle; in an instant, two more volleys were fired. Seven or eight Dothraki roaring warriors fell from their horses.

A comical scene unfolded in the arena as Feogo and his Roaring Warriors relentlessly pursued them, while Reid and his crew avoided engaging them, instead leading the centaurs around the circular arena, constantly turning back to fire arrows.

"coward!"

"coward!"

"A frontal assault!"

"This is what you show me after I paid for it?"

The shouts and curses from the stands continued, with most people craving intense hand-to-hand combat with flashing swords and flying flesh, and finding it hard to accept the ranged attacks of the horse archers that didn't even touch the body.

Merchants and nobles familiar with battle formations and military strategies also began to evaluate this new cavalry tactic.

"In less than a quarter of an hour, half of the Dothraki were dead, while they were unharmed. This tactic of shooting arrows from horseback is extremely effective."

"It is very effective against unarmored or lightly armored troops, but not against heavily armored troops."

"Could we try training some horse archers?"

"It's very difficult. Shooting arrows on the bumpy back of a horse is something many horsemen can't achieve with such precision and skill!"

······

Reed couldn't hear what was being said in the stands; he was focused on dealing with the situation at hand. After the fourth round of Mangudai, the centaurs split up. More than twenty Roaring Warriors tried to intercept them from the opposite direction. Some of the more skilled horsemen, as they passed by the corpses left behind in the previous battle, bent down and picked up the spears from the ground.

Reid's eyes remained calm; he had anticipated this move. He silently donned his helmet and raised his lance. The horse archers behind him instinctively deployed in a wedge formation on either flank, sheathing their bows and drawing their Arabian scimitars.

Compared to the yak scimitar, which is more like a scythe, the gleaming blade of the Arabian scimitar and the graceful curves of the female form, when raised in the hands of the horse archers, gave the audience in the arena the beauty of a butterfly spreading its wings.

Finally, the sex scenes began, and many long-awaited viewers leaned forward or even stood up.

The first clash was between Reed's lance, its tip piercing precisely into the chest of the leading roaring warrior. As the applewood shaft shattered like snowflakes, Reed decisively discarded the shaft, drew his longsword, and slashed left and right. The archers on either side began a butterfly dance, but the silver butterflies quickly turned into blood-red butterflies. Arabian scimitars gleamed coldly in the sunlight, each swing accompanied by splattering blood and the screams of the enemy. The battle intensified, the arena filled with bloodshed and carnage. The audience watched, mesmerized, cheering for Reed's bravery and applauding the Dothraki's tenacity.

Moments later, the two opposing sides passed each other. Reid's side, protected by superior armor, lost two horse archers: one was pierced through the chest by a spear, and the other was caught by a roaring warrior who leaped from his horse and both were thrown to the ground. As for the centaurs, eleven corpses remained.

"Go get the spear!" Feogo roared.

Reid and his horse archers quickly turned their horses around, preparing for the next attack. Fiago's orders sent the horsemen into action; they scattered and rushed towards the spears lying on the ground, ready to gather them for the upcoming battle.

"Too late to realize this now!" The horse archers shoved their blood-stained scimitars into the swivels of their quivers, picked up their horse bows again, and this time prioritized the roaring warriors who had gotten their spears.

Melee cavalry without ranged weapons don't know to group up for close combat, but instead scatter to pick up loot? Then don't blame the horse archers for being impolite.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Arrows pierced the sky, carrying the scent of death, and accurately struck the roaring warriors who had just picked up their spears. One roaring warrior after another, before they even had a chance to engage in close combat, were pierced through the throat by arrows, their eyes wide open, and they fell off their horses in frustration.

Within fifteen minutes, of the more than seventy Dothraki Roaring Warriors, only Feogo, who had been deliberately left behind, remained.

"Ah~!" Feogo roared wildly, his eyes bloodshot. His resentment, shame, and the humiliation of being mocked drove this towering Dothraki giant to spur his horse and charge toward Reid.

Reid lowered his bow and waved his hand. Two horse archers rode forward, one throwing out a rope which the other skillfully caught and quickly wrapped around the saddle handle twice. The two riders separated, and the rope taut just in time, tripping Fiago's horse and causing him and his horse to fall to the ground.

Feogo struggled to his feet, his muddy face filled with anger and resentment. He roared and charged at Reid, wanting to use his last strength to teach this enemy a lesson.

Reid spurred his horse forward, a cold sword flashed down, blood splattered, and Fiago fell to the ground.

The arena was completely silent until, after a long while, a deafening cheer erupted.