"We've mostly been active around Lhazareen lands, Your Majesty. We're not very familiar with this area."
It did not take long for Viserys Targaryen to receive news that the supply lines had been attacked.
Ogo, several Pentoshi commanders, and the bearded priests from Norvos all gathered to discuss their next move.
"Your Majesty, we have enough food for now," said a commander from House Mellario. "But if we run short on water, that will become a serious problem."
Among all the Free Cities' forces, Norvos was currently the most cooperative.
Even though the supply lines had been harassed, their preparations had been sufficient.
The army carried ample provisions.
After all, they had seized a large number of warhorses from the Dothraki not long ago.
The Dragonriders each had three horses.
The longbowmen had two.
Even the infantry had at least one horse or mule to carry supplies and equipment.
This livestock-heavy army's biggest issue was water.
But for Viserys, that was not a problem at all.
In fact, Drogo's attacks on the supply lines strengthened his control over the allied forces.
For example, Norvos now had to rely more heavily on Viserys' commands due to concerns over food and water.
"Leave the water supply to us," Viserys said calmly. "I will ensure the army has enough."
The confidence in his tone left many uncertain.
The Free Cities had never ventured deep into the Dothraki Sea before. Their knowledge of the region was limited.
But their doubts quickly disappeared.
Viserys practically handed them maps and sent them out.
Hidden lakes, underground streams, and obscure water sources were all discovered.
It was enough to sustain an army of tens of thousands.
The display left everyone astonished.
Even Ogo felt a deeper sense of awe toward Viserys. He must have been planning to conquer the grasslands long ago.
The more Ogo learned about him, the more uneasy he became.
This young king always seemed to plan ten steps ahead.
After two to three months of marching, the massive army of over a hundred thousand finally caught sight of the Mother of Mountains.
From afar, it stood like a monument carved with the entire history of the Dothraki.
At its base lay the Womb of the World, the only water source within a hundred miles.
The Free Cities' coalition and Drogo's roaring horde now faced each other across the land between the mountain and the lake.
The Dothraki's mobility made them difficult to annihilate.
But that was never Viserys' objective.
His goal was to destroy the statue of the Horse God. Once the statue fell, the war would be considered won.
If Drogo could not stop him, then even if the Dothraki escaped, it would only be a matter of time.
The Free Cities would return again and again.
Until the wild horse of the grasslands was finally tamed.
However, troubling news soon arrived from Viserys' informants in Volantis.
Malaqo had met with Khal Drogo.
Though the content of their discussion was unknown, the Volantene army had noticeably slowed its advance.
And their supply lines were no longer being attacked.
That alone was enough to explain everything.
They had reached some kind of agreement.
Viserys' advisors quickly realized the truth. They had been stabbed in the back by their allies.
Not openly, but their lack of support was obvious.
Fortunately, Viserys had never expected them to fight Drogo seriously. He had brought them along mainly to gauge their strength.
At present, the forces under his command were roughly equal to Drogo's.
And he still held two decisive advantages: the longbowmen and the water mages.
As commander, he remained completely composed.
The Womb of the World lay to the south of the Mother of Mountains, its vast waters stretching across the land.
Viserys' army and Drogo's forces each controlled one end of the lake.
Before battle, it was customary for the two commanders to make contact.
If an agreement could be reached before bloodshed began, war might still be avoided.
The side that sent an envoy first was usually the one under pressure.
Drogo sent an old Dothraki named Dango, his hair already white.
This elder had once followed Khal Bharbo.
After witnessing the miracle of the Horse God, he was full of confidence in their victory.
But when he saw the Dothraki who had surrendered to Viserys, he froze.
It had only been a few months. Yet they no longer looked like Dothraki.
They wore leather armor.
Their hair was cut short.
Once, cutting one's hair was a mark of shame. But after seeing that even Viserys kept his hair short, they no longer cared.
Dango spat on the ground.
"The Horse God will punish your souls!"
The Dothraki soldier he addressed only shrugged. "The Horse God? We follow the Seven now."
"You—"
Dango choked on his words, then sneered.
"Fools."
Led by guards, Dango entered Viserys' command tent.
The tent itself was unremarkable.
It was simply larger, with more guards.
Behind it stood a black banner bearing the three-headed dragon.
That detail surprised him.
He had visited many camps before—governors, archons, nobles. Their tents were always lavish.
Decorated with flowers and vines.
Inside, they resembled banquets. Carpets on the floor, musicians in the corners, dancers in the center.
But Viserys' tent was different.
It was solemn.
Cold.
Filled with the scent of war.
Dango stepped inside with three young attendants.
Young officers stood lined on both sides.
Though the Dothraki disdained armor, he could not deny how impressive these warriors looked.
Then he saw Ogo.
A Dothraki khal... wearing armor. Even silk lining peeked out from beneath it.
Suppressing his thoughts, Dango turned his gaze forward. At the head of the tent sat Viserys.
Silver hair.
Purple eyes, bright as stars.
A black battle robe that made his hair stand out even more.
A crown set with red gemstones rested on his head—not extravagant, but perfectly suited to him.
So young.
Dango had never seen a king this young.
If he lived long enough, he would become a nightmare for the entire grass sea.
Taking a deep breath, Dango spoke. "Honorable King Viserys, why have you brought your army to invade our lands?"
Viserys did not bother answering.
He inwardly mocked the Dothraki's crude diplomacy.
Instead, his scribe, Mathos, stepped forward.
"The Dothraki have invaded the lands of the Free Cities countless times," Mathos said calmly.
"We have come only once. How can that be called invasion? It is merely a fair exchange."
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