Inside the map room of Wolf's Den, the high-ranking officers of the Two Cities' army gathered to discuss the impending war.
Khal Drogo was an inevitable enemy; this was a war between kings, and a clash of civilization and barbarism.
"Master Qyburn, please brief us on the internal and external situation," Gendry said, allowing Qyburn to speak first.
"Currently, Myr and Tyrosh have submitted to Your Highness's glory. Our new council, city hall, and arbitration court are functioning well. Furthermore, military and security powers have been firmly controlled by us," Qyburn slowly began to answer. "The only concern is the old nobles who have fled to Lys and Volantis, but they are unlikely to pose a significant threat."
"Regarding the surrounding situation, Pentos, Qohor, Norvos, and the last Ghiscari city-states have provided us with aid, whether it be gold, weapons, or troops. However, Braavos and Lorath remain neutral because coastal cities fear no Dothraki. As for Lys and Volantis, they may support the horse people."
"Braavos staying out of it is already a good outcome. As for Volantis and Lys, although war is inevitable, it is not yet time," Gendry said. Multi-front warfare is a fool's strategy, so now is the time to deal with the horse people.
"We must shape our image, portraying ourselves as great figures resisting dothraki violent aggression, as righteous taxi soldiers. We must not only win on the battlefield but also win the war of public opinion. Furthermore, tell the citizens about the burning, killing, and looting that will occur if the Dothraki enter the city; they will understand what to do."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Such is power; it is against the backdrop of an enemy that the populace truly needs a dictator and warriors. Without an enemy, one can still create enemies for the city-states, create fear. Make Myr and Tyrosh fear the enemy, thereby gaining more support for oneself. Everyone will grow weary of chaos and choose a strong leader.
"Next, let's discuss our tactics," Gendry said. "Myr will be our bait. It's a fat prize, and the Dothraki will surely head straight for Myr."
"So, we'll proceed as before?" Ser Jorah asked. "Using strong fortresses as shields, then wearing down the Dothraki before attacking?"
"Yes and no," Gendry replied. "Before the Dothraki arrive, I will give them something to think about. First, we will clear the fields and strengthen our defenses, and we must also prepare for night raids when the Dothraki arrive."
Gendry stood up and explained, "In front of Myr, prepare trenches and earthworks. This is the first line of defense I've prepared for Drogo. Myr is the second line of defense."
Attrition, delay, and frontal assault—this is a combination punch. Simply charging in foolishly is not Gendry's strategy. Play to strengths and avoid weaknesses. First, drain some of the Dothraki's vitality, then fight to the bitter end.
"Also, have our light Knights eat more sea fish and carrots," Gendry told The Handsome Man. "The soldiers' vision is very important. Night raids are essential before the decisive battle."
"Yes, My Lord," The Handsome Man nodded, then wrote down the order.
Although the Dothraki are powerful enemies, their tactics and equipment have not been updated for many years. Even a strong Khal, if he dies from an infected wound, his Khalasar will fall apart.
"I have already made arrangements for our personnel," Gendry said.
"Before the great battle, no soldier shall leave their post. The First Wolf Pack Legion and the Second Free Legion will serve as the main force. Steel Fist will command the Wolf Pack infantry, and Grey Wolf will command the Free Army infantry. The Third Second Sons Legion will be the reserve force, ready for battlefield support and assisting the garrison in maintaining order," Gendry stated precisely and forcefully. "All cavalry will still be under my command, Longspear, Gilo Reha, Ser Jorah."
"Yes, Your Highness, the First Legion is ready!" Steel Fist and Longspear said.
"Yes, Your Highness, this humble one will hone the Second Legion," Grey Wolf and Gilo Reha, the Longspear Company Commander, replied.
Brown Ben and Jorah also received their orders, "Yes, Your Highness, the Third Legion will be deployed at any time."
"What about the Qohor, Ghiscari, and Norvos Holy Guard?" Jorah couldn't help but interject.
"The Qohor Unsullied and the Ghiscari will also be under your command, Grey Wolf."
"Yes, Your Highness," Grey Wolf said.
"The Norvos Holy Guardians will be under my command," Gendry said. Those monk soldiers are very strong in combat, and he had to make proper arrangements.
"I must emphasize again, no war should be underestimated or rushed into. This has been repeatedly stressed to me by the Ghiscari envoy; the Ghiscari Kingdom of Sarnor was destroyed because of this," Gendry emphasized.
In the last battle between the Ghiscari and the Dothraki, the Ghiscari High King fell into a Dothraki ambush.
High King Mazorro Aleixo gathered an army upstream of the Sarn River and marched west. Later, the Ghiscari encountered their opponents in the tall grass—four Khalasars, followed by eighty thousand horsemen. The Sarnor chariots charged ahead, breaking through the center of the dothraki horsemen, beheading Khal Haro, forcing his Khalasar to rout and retreat, unstoppable for a time.
Aleixo led his Knights to pursue with the Sarnor chariots, but unexpectedly fell into a trap. Khals Qohor and Zhako led their Khalasars in a pincer attack from north and south. The fleeing Dothraki turned back, shooting arrows like a storm, while Khal Rhassar and his Screaming Warriors outflanked the Sarnor warriors from the rear. Aleixo's army was completely surrounded and soon cut into countless pieces. Hundreds of thousands were trampled underfoot in the melee, and Mazorro Aleixo died along with his people.
Of course, the essence of war lies in playing to one's strengths and avoiding weaknesses, gaining an advantage. The Ghiscari foolishly sent themselves to their doom by playing to their weaknesses, so their failure was inevitable.
"Victory!" Gendry drew his longsword and looked around at his subordinates. All his victories depended on military victory; military victory was the foundation of the state.
The Unsullied, the Knights, the heavy infantry, the free slaves—these were his fists and his warhammer.
"Since Drogo is coming to Myr, then let him come."
"Victory!"
"Victory!" The other generals also drew their longswords, emitting dazzling light... "You are in trouble, Lady Catelyn," Tyrion looked at Catelyn and said solemnly. Catelyn's face was truly grim now, but Tyrion didn't have much inclination to observe closely.
Lannisters always pay their debts. This foolish woman still didn't understand the consequences of provoking House Lannister. Tyrion mourned for Catelyn; Lord Tywin, while not fond of his dwarf son, would absolutely not tolerate damage to the family's honor. Tywin preferred power over sentiment, and he would most likely raise an army, at which point the Riverlands would bear the brunt of the anger and bloodshed.
"If The Imp leaves, everything will be irreversible." Catelyn felt her head was about to explode. She couldn't get to the truth and had already offended the Lannister.
"These wildlings who unexpectedly appeared," Ser Rodrik muttered under his breath. This was now the worst possible outcome. The "wildlings" had appeared out of nowhere, making a complete mess of things.
"Sheathe your swords and release them," Catelyn said. A Knight of House Harroway had already died, and if more blood was shed, the situation would be even harder to control. With so many people talking, today was destined to be difficult to resolve.
"Well done," Tyrion rejoiced inwardly. His luck was still quite good.
Catelyn was clever; she first compelled the vassals of House Tully to reaffirm their allegiance to Lord Hoster, then had them draw their swords to assist. Catelyn almost succeeded, but only almost.
There were sixty or seventy people in the hall, but Catelyn had only swayed about ten, and the "wildlings" also numbered around ten. A large portion of the people in the middle Catelyn could not sway; some were confused, some fearful, some indifferent. Even among the most numerous Knights of the Frey Family, only two were willing to step forward, but seeing that the leaders were not moving, they sat back down.
"I messed things up!" Catelyn looked at the dwarf's retreating back, feeling a part of her heart missing. Her desperate plan had failed just like that, damn it.
"I did not plot against your son, I repeat," Tyrion told Catelyn as he left. "Also, I'm very curious to know who told you about the dagger and the assassination."
"You don't need to know that," Catelyn said, gritting her teeth.
"My good Lady, you don't need to say more. That person was most likely Littlefinger, wasn't he?" Tyrion snorted. "For Littlefinger, lying is his instinct. You were probably deceived by him. Giving my own dagger to an assassin? I'm not that stupid."
"...This," Catelyn clearly showed a look of panic.
"I say, Lady Catelyn, your maidenhead was given to Littlefinger, everyone in the court has heard about it, haven't they?" Tyrion couldn't help but lift his head and verbally stab Catelyn. Lannisters always pay their debts, and he didn't mind giving Catelyn a bit of truth to hear.
Catelyn said nothing more, only watched as the dwarf joined the "wildling" group, taking his two retainers with him.
"I am Tyrion of House Lannister. If you can escort me, I will be eternally grateful and reward you handsomely," Tyrion retreated to a safe position, then called out loudly to the Free Knights on the bench. Tyrion certainly had to go with this group of wildlings, but he still wanted two Knights of his own.
Sure enough, two Mercenaries approached The Imp, willing to follow for gold.
"Very good, good fortune favors the bold," Tyrion said with a smile, then asked for their names.
"Bronn." Bronn had the lean, fierce appearance of a hungry wolf, with black hair, black eyes, and a messy stubble. He had a dark sense of humor. Tyrion felt he was a pragmatist with no sense of morality whatsoever.
"Chiggen," Bronn's companion said.
"Now I have four retainers," Tyrion thought, two retainers and two Mercenaries.
"You're very clever, little dwarf," the "wildling" leader said, looking at Tyrion.
"I may not be tall, but my head is quite large, sirs of the Snake Men tribe," Tyrion said with a grin. He understood that this large group of people before him were definitely not wildlings. Even so, these people were at least friendlier than the foolish women of House Tully.
Tyrion looked at this group of "wildlings." Their leather or chainmail, though worn, fit them well, unlike real wildlings who wore tattered clothes. Moreover, the weapons in the wildlings' hands were never handy, mostly old longswords, sickles, and farm tools.
But these "wildlings" always had a scent of blood and ruthlessness about them. Their speech was also like that, not like the accent of true wildlings.
"You are dangerous, but I hope you are quick-witted," the leader snorted at Bronn.
"Yes, My Lord," Bronn nodded. These disguised wildlings had a dozen skilled fighters, rude and ruthless. He knew it was best to remain silent now.
"Let's go," the leader said to Tyrion. "Don't try any tricks. I'm not in the mood to play games with you, but you should understand that I am saving you right now."
"Alright, you are my Lord now," Tyrion nodded obediently. The Riverlands, after all, were still House Tully's territory, and not very friendly.
The group rushed into the rain, not looking back.
"Damn it," Catelyn sat in her seat, now too exhausted to eat. She had truly messed things up. Eddard had warned her, but she ultimately couldn't hold back.
Catelyn looked at the fifty or so people remaining in the hall. She hated these people. Why couldn't they acknowledge a mother's courage? Especially those of the Frey Family, more than twenty of them who dared not come forward, the late Freys.
"The Eyrie, next is The Eyrie," Catelyn thought as if waking from a dream. War was coming, and she needed Lysa's help; this was crucial.
The horn of war had already sounded, sounding for everyone. winter is coming.
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