The libraries of Gohor were rich enough that even Mathos, as the son of Davos, could be considered well-educated.
Dealing with a Dothraki who had barely read a book in his life was effortless for him.
Seeing that reason alone would not work, the old man Dango suddenly dropped to his knees before Viserys.
"Your Majesty, no matter what crimes the Dothraki have committed, those were more than sixty thousand lives!
How many women lost their husbands? How many children lost their fathers?
Surely your anger should be satisfied by now!"
His sudden change in attitude caught everyone off guard.
To show his sincerity, he even crawled forward on his knees.
Yet his words were full of contradictions.
"And when you slaughtered the soldiers of the Three Daughters, did you ever think about how many women lost their husbands and how many children lost their fathers?"
Mathos lowered his head slightly and shot back sharply.
But his presence wavered a little.
Perhaps it was because of the values Viserys had promoted in Gohor over the years.
Seeing an old man kneeling like this in front of him made Mathos uncomfortable.
Dango crawled forward again.
"But... those were soldiers of the Three Daughters, not people of Gohor."
Faced with such ignorance, even stubbornness, Mathos cast aside his sympathy and began to feel disgust.
"Then by that logic, the Dothraki His Majesty killed were not all Drogo's people either.
Why say sixty thousand? Why not just say thirty thousand?"
Dango slumped down onto the ground.
He stopped arguing with Mathos.
Instead, he looked past him toward Viserys, who had not spoken a single word since he entered.
"Your Majesty, the Mother of Mountains is the sacred land of the Dothraki. If you continue forward, then we will become eternal enemies!"
There was even a hint of pleading in his expression.
Viserys was about to respond when he suddenly caught the vicious glint hidden in Dango's eyes.
"Mathos, be careful!"
Mathos had been focused on Viserys. When he heard the warning, he flinched.
Looking back at Dango, he saw that the old man had somehow drawn a curved blade and was lunging straight at him.
An assassination attempt inside the king's tent.
Even across all races and histories, such a thing was rare.
Everyone froze. For a moment, they could hardly believe what they were seeing.
"Protect His Majesty!"
"Protect His Majesty!"
Viserys' warning saved Matthos' life.
He instinctively raised his arm to block.
But Dango's strike was fast and vicious. The steel bracer shattered instantly, and blood poured from Mathos' arm.
Gerold reacted immediately, dragging Mathos aside. Without even drawing his sword, he grabbed Dango's arm, trying to subdue him.
But the three young Dothraki attendants that Dango had brought were just as ferocious.
They attacked Gerold at the same time without hesitation.
In that brief moment of distraction, Dango severed his own restrained arm and charged madly toward Viserys.
However, Arthur moved even faster.
He did not even draw his sword. With a single kick, he sent Dango crashing to the ground.
The three Dothraki youths were quickly captured as well.
"Come, Viserys! The great Horse God is waiting for you!" Pinned to the ground by the guards, Dango continued to shout.
The next moment, dark blood began to flow from his eyes and nose.
The three youths collapsed in the same way. All four of them died instantly inside the tent.
They had come prepared to die.
The guards immediately begged for punishment.
Viserys ordered each of them to receive fifty lashes, to be carried out after the battle.
They were meant to be his closest blades.
Their pay was five times that of ordinary soldiers.
After retirement, even the lowest among them could become village heads or overseers.
To make such a mistake on their first campaign was unacceptable.
If Viserys had been injured—or worse—they would have been executed.
Still, considering that such a close personal guard was rare in both the Free Cities and Westeros, he showed leniency this time.
"Your Majesty, those people are too arrogant. Let me lead the attack against them!"
Ogo spoke eagerly.
Viserys looked toward the Mother of Mountains in the north and did not answer.
"Your Majesty, the Dothraki have no intention of negotiating. We must destroy them completely!"
"Your Majesty, let me take the vanguard!"
The generals all clamored to fight.
But Viserys remained calm. From what he understood, Drogo might not be educated, but he was not a fool.
This assassination attempt was clearly meant to provoke him.
But what had pushed Drogo to such extremes?
At that moment, Jon Connington stepped forward. "Your Majesty, there may be a trap. We must be cautious."
Viserys glanced at him, thinking that a man capable of driving Robert to desperation saw things the same way he did.
"I agree with the Hand," Gerold added.
"Your Majesty, do not let my injury affect your judgment. Victory is what matters most."
Mathos, pale and freshly bandaged, also spoke up.
Viserys nodded.
"Do not worry. I will not go to war out of anger."
He paused, his gaze steady.
"If we fight, we will do so on our terms."
He turned toward Lothan.
"Elder Lothan, proceed with the original plan. Deploy the water mages as soon as possible. Within five days, we will engage Drogo in decisive battle."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
It was now clear that Braavos and Volantis had no intention of fully committing.
Short-sighted fools.
They believed that even if this expedition failed, they could simply retreat and carry on as before.
But Viserys remembered his conversation with the River Elder.
The Horse God had already intervened personally. Drogo now commanded an army of fifty to sixty thousand.
What other methods a god might use... no one knew.
They had to be careful.
But one thing was certain: The Seven were useless.
At a time like this, they had shown no sign of intervention. If they truly existed, then they were not allies worth relying on.
___________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/BloodAncestor