Published: December 11th 2024, 5:29:16 pm
Aegon stared at the envoys before him from the safe distance of his temporary camp close to the coastline of Andalos.
A small host had come, but their armour gleamed under the sun, and the discipline of their ranks spoke of steel-tested resolve. They were knights of the Vale, the stalwart protectors of the eastern mountains, summoned across leagues of land and sea to a foreign shore.
Aegon knew this from observing the many banners carried by the mounted knights. But he saw more than just the knights of the Vale in the ranks. There were some prominent Crownland banners by the likes of House Brune, Velaryon, Boggs, and Crabb. There were lesser-known banners as well, and he counted eleven banners in total.
He knew some of the knights as he had encountered some of them in the lists. He was most familiar with Ser Vaemond Velaryon, Ser Theodore Rykker and Ser Alvin Brune in the group. Vaemond was the nephew of Lord Corlys, and the Velaryon Knight had captained the ship that took him and Gael to Pentos. Ser Theodore and Ser Alvin were squires in the Stormlands, and he had competed with them in the squire’s melee hosted by Lord Estermont at one point.
“Ser Theodore, Ser Alvin. We meet yet again.” Aegon greeted the two with a small smile.
“Prince Aegon.” They dipped their heads in respect.
“We heard there was work for knights to do in this place, and we wished to see for ourselves whether our services were needed.” Ser Theodore said, his brown hair whipping in the wind.
“There are many savages to be killed and good people to be saved.” said Aegon, nodding curtly to the knight.
“Sounds like a knight’s work to me.” Ser Theodore said with a nod.
“If you’ll have us, our swords are yours, my prince.” Ser Alvin offered, which Aegon graciously accepted with a respectful nod.
“I’ll be honoured to have you by our side.”
Aegon turned his attention to Ser Vaemond Velaryon.
“I thought I saw the last of you when you sailed away from Pentos, Ser Vaemond. Glad to see I was wrong.”
“Velaryon blood yearns for adventure, my prince. There is no greater adventure than seeing to the destruction of Dothraki hordes plaguing the good people of Andalos.” said Vaemond, his ocean-blue eyes shining with resolve.
Aegon nodded and shook Vaemond’s hand before moving on to the less familiar guests.
There were a couple more Crownlander knights like Bailin Pyne, Lucas Crabb, Henry Cave and Ethan Boggs. He greeted them individually, taking some time to converse with them properly. He had met some of them in tourneys, and all these knights brought their squires and pages across the Narrow Sea to liberate Andalos.
Then he turned his attention to the knights from the Vale of Arryn. William Templeton was the only man he was familiar with in the group. He knew the man only because the knights of the Ninestars were famous for their grit and skill in the lists.
“I suspect Lord Yorbert Royce must’ve not approved of your choice to cross the Narrow Sea. Still, you came, Ser.” Aegon said, fishing to glean some insight into the man’s thinking.
“The Knights of the Vale holds the teachings of the Seven close to our hearts even if they are perverted to suit one’s needs further south. We shall join you in this crusade to rid these holy lands of the Dothraki menace. The thoughts of Lord Protector of the Vale are best suited to the matters regarding the Eyrie and the Vale of Arryn.”
“Commendable.” Aegon nodded before moving on to the other knights like Dwayne Redfort, Agustus Belmore and Richard Waynwood.
As the meet and greet progressed, their attention was captured by a loud screeching coming from the sky. Dreamfyre soared over their heads with Gael riding the mighty blue dragon. Gales of wind swept through the ground as Dreamfyre landed on her hind legs with a thud, flapping her expansive wings as she settled adequately on the ground. The Dragonkeepers rushed to ease the dragon with comforting words sung in High Valyrian.
Gael dismounted from her dragon and came to his side.
“Princess.”
The knights murmured and dipped their heads in respect.
Gael curtsied perfectly even though she was in her riding leathers and not her skirts. After exchanging some pleasantries, they retired to his tent, and Aegon invited all eleven newly arrived knights to join him. They had to remove the table in his tent to make room for the newly arrived knights.
“I met with your informant, Aegon. A khalassar has crossed the Rhoyne and raided villages close to the riverbanks. They are headed towards our camp.” said Gael.
“Did he say anything about the numbers?” Aegon asked curiously while murmurs passed through the assembled men.
“Twenty thousand is the best estimate.”
That piece of information set off murmurs within the tent.
“We only have six thousand troops, and that’s a generous estimate without factoring in the injured and the recent deaths we suffered from ridding bandits in the region. Six thousand against twenty thousand won’t be an easy fight.” Ser Reginald said cautiously.
“Aegon the Dragon took the Seven Kingdoms with fewer numbers, Ser.” Ser Theodore said, getting some nods from the group.
“I‘m afraid I’m nowhere near the skill and fortitude of my illustrious ancestor, though we share the same name.” Aegon said humbly.
“Fiendfyre and Dreamfyre are formidable dragons. Any standard Westerosi army could be defeated because their commanders wouldn’t foolishly throw their men into dragonfire.” Ser Reginald made himself heard in the tent by speaking up over the assembled men in the tent, “But these are not Westerosi men. These are the barbarian hordes with no morals or tact. They charge in a blind rage to kill, rape and pillage. If dragons could’ve delivered us victory, we wouldn’t be having this meeting.”
That sparked a debate amongst the gathered knights. Some staunchly refused to believe there was any army in the known world that could withstand the onslaught of two grown dragons. Others were more cautious and sided with Ser Reginald and Ser Jon as they were more experienced in facing the Dothraki hordes.
“Enough!” Aegon shouted, quieting the tent.
“Ser Reginald speaks the truth. The Dothraki wish to fight to the death, believing they have a cause worthy of death. We know this because we have Dothraki warriors fighting in my army. They ally with us to honour the word of their Khal and nothing else. These men have a code, and they’re prepared to die for their Khals.” Aegon stared at each face in his tent. “We must not underestimate them.”
“What do you suggest we do then, my prince?”
“Our intention is for the Dothraki to leave Andalos. We must defeat them in the field soundly and capture as many of them as possible. Then, we force their Khals to the negotiating table and extract an oath to the effect that they never again cross the Rhoyne.” Aegon said what was on his mind.
“If that’s the case, then we need to ensure the Dothraki comes at us with their entire strength. We cannot allow them to move like a storm across the plains, raiding village after village. Even dragons can’t be everywhere at once.” said Ser Bailin Pyne.
Aegon tapped the map before him as he put forth his strategy.
“The Dothraki are formidable, but they are not invincible. Their strength lies in their mobility, their horses. But their horses need grass and water, and their riders need supplies. Here, in Andalos, we can deny them both.”
Aegon pointed to a cluster of hills marked on the map close to the ruined city of Ghoyan Drohe.
“The region near the Velvet Hills is defensible. If we draw the khalasars to this region and hold the passes, we can force them to fight on our terms. The dragons will destroy their vanguard, and your knights will shatter their flanks.” Aegon proposed.
“A sound plan, but it relies on us holding the high ground against a numerically superior foe. How will we ensure the Dothraki do not simply bypass our position and continue their raids?” Ser Bailin Pyne posed the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“We goad them into small skirmishes and lead them to the battlefield of our choosing.” Jon piqued up.
Ser Reginald elaborated, his voice softer but no less assured as he picked off where Jon had left off.
“We will leave a portion of our forces in the plains, a feigned retreat. The Dothraki cannot resist such a prize. Once they give chase, we will spring the trap.”
Ser Theodore exchanged glances with Ser Bailin and Ser Dwayne. It was a dangerous gambit that required absolute coordination and unflinching dedication to the task at hand. But the logic was sound, and the prospect of fighting alongside dragons was compelling.
“That portion will be under threat of a complete rout. You’ll be asking men to sacrifice their lives for a strategy that might become useless in the event of a complete rout.” Ser Dwayne Redfort pointed out the weakness in the plan.
“That’s why we’ll not use Westerosi troops as bait. I have a substantial Dothraki khalasar sworn to me. We’ll use them as bait.” Aegon proposed.
His proposal was approved by almost everyone in the tent. Now, the finer details needed to be hashed out before they started leading the pillaging khalasar into a trap.
******
The low, relentless beating of war drums reverberated through the air, echoing across the green plains of Andalos. Dust swirled, kicked up by the boots of soldiers and the hooves of horses, mingling with the cool morning mist that clung to the grasses.
Aegon Targaryen sat astride his stallion Stormwind, his keen eyes scanning the distant horizon where the banners of the Dothraki Horde had begun to appear. The classic hollering and screaming of the Dothraki horde were disconcerting for many in his comparatively smaller army. The presence of the Dothraki khalasar in this region was a testament to the success of their strategy.
Their strategy of baiting the khalasar worked splendidly. The Dothraki outriders managed to find their camp just like they planned, and as Aegon envisioned, the khalasar became tempted to launch an all-out attack against their camp. This time, Aegon wasn’t mounting Fiendfyre and waging the battle from the safety of his dragon. He was a knight before he became a dragon rider, and he wanted to show that he was just as capable of waging war without his dragon.
Beside him, Ser Reginald Reyne and Ser Jon Tarth exchanged a tensed glance, seeing the massive army arrayed against them.
“Six thousand soldiers against twenty thousand strong Dothraki army.” Ser Reginald murmured, his voice taut with dread as his eyes fell on the massive army charging towards them.
“The Dothraki fight to plunder your homes.” Aegon shouted at the top of his lungs,
“Will you submit?”
“No!” the response from his men was weak, but Aegon prowled on.
“The Dothraki fight to rape your women. Will you submit?”
“No!”
This time, the response was stronger.
“The Dothraki fight to enslave you and your children. Will you accept chains of bondage?”
“No!”
“Then, fight for your homes, your women, your children and for yourself. Fight in the name of your gods!” Aegon shouted as he rode his horse along the lines, successfully riling up his men.
He ordered the war drums to make sounds as loud as possible to drown out the hollering of the Dothraki riders. Aegon rode back to his command position at the centre of the army with his men neatly moving around to give him a path.
“Ser Reginald, form the shields in the centre line,” Aegon commanded, his voice carrying over the noise. “Archers on the hillsides. And send word to the flanks to prepare the pikes.”
Ser Reginald nodded and rode off, barking orders to the men as they formed into disciplined lines. The shields gleamed in the sun as they were raised, each man bracing for the inevitable impact of the Dothraki charge.
Aegon watched his men reform themselves under his orders, and the foot soldiers took up long pikes they had made for this occasion. The Dothraki were comprised of mounted men, and a wall of pikes was more than enough to blunt their attacks on his flanks. Up front and centre, he had placed his limited Unsullied troops, which Pentos provided. Their unflinching courage in the face of overwhelming force made them uniquely suited for the role he had in mind.
He turned his horse around to face the oncoming Dothraki army.
The Dothraki didn’t delay. They began their assault without a thought, sweeping across the plains like a dark wave, their shrieks piercing the air.
Aegon waited, still and composed. He had studied the ways of war and the tactics of battlefields from the best tutors from an early age. He knew that every battle was won or lost in the moments before the first clash in the minds of the generals. He glanced at his archer captains, perched on either side of the valley, and lifted his hand.
The drummers shifted the tone to convey his will to the archers. He let his hand fall down, and that was the signal. The archers released the strings and let their bows fly.
He had chosen his position carefully. The wind was on his side, and he watched the arrows soar above his head, guided by the western winds to the east. With increased range, his archers fell a row of Dothraki quickly. The savages made it easy for his archers since they refused to wear any armour or chainmail on their bodies. Screams filled the air as horses reared, their riders tumbling to the ground, but the Dothraki pushed forward relentlessly. The arrows slowed them but did not break their charge.
More and more volleys of arrows were rained down on the savages without fail, and more Dothraki men fell dead or injured on the battlefield.
“Lock shields!” Aegon shouted.
His foot soldiers on the front obeyed his command without fail. They locked shields just like they practised. He had drilled them relentlessly to create a wall of shields to withstand the Dothraki archers, and he watched with satisfaction as his men executed the manoeuvre without fail.
The Unsullied at the front lines carried shields nearly as tall as their bodies. Those wooden shields had sharp metal spikes hammered into them. They were designed to withstand an assault like this and injure the charging horses of the Dothraki savages. The Unsullied also carried the sharpest spears and were quick to hastily place pikes in front just before the Dothraki charged their lines.
The first wave of Dothraki struck the shield wall with thunderous force. The ground shook as horses collided with men, the sound of steel-on-steel filling the air. Shields splintered, swords clashed, and screams of agony mingled with the brutal roars of combat.
“Hold the line! Hold the line!” Ser Reginald shouted, his voice ringing across the field.
A flurry of arrows arced high into the sky, slicing down into the mass of Dothraki riders. Bloodcurdling screams and desperate cries of horses filled the battlefield.
As he predicted, the bulk of the Dothraki charge shifted to his flanks after testing the strength of his front lines. But the Dothraki walked straight into his trap as the ground around his flanks was littered with caltrops. The Dothraki horses fell in droves as they rode into a minefield full of caltrops. As the Dothraki army became disoriented, the lucky few who reached his lines were expertly cut down by his men.
Seeing that the bulk of the Dothraki army was now committed to the charge, Aegon took the horn secured on his belt and blew it as loud as possible. The men handling the drums also took out their horns and blew them so that the sound was heard throughout the battlefield.
It was the signal for Gael, who was guarding their camp with Dreamfyre and the Valemen he had placed under her command. It didn’t take long before a blare of horns came from the west. Soon, Aegon watched the Valemen ride out from beyond the hill atop their horses like the famed knights of the legend. The banners of Redfort, Belmore, Templeton, and Waynwood rode down from the hill. Knights from the Crownland houses like Brune, Buckwell, Pyne, Rykker, Crabb, Cave, Velaryon and Boggs led another contingent from the adjacent hill.
Gael followed suit, riding Dreamfyre into battle.
The roar from his wife’s dragon captured the attention of the Dothraki hordes, but it was too late to notice the danger they were in. The strategy employed by Aegon revolved around baiting the Dothraki army to commit to an attack in huge numbers so that there was little room for manoeuvrability.
Therefore, when Dreamfyre soared above the Dothraki army and breathed fire on the left flank, the savages could do nothing but burn to death. A long line of blue fire cut through the left flank of the Dothraki army. Screams tore through the battlefield as the Dothraki savages were burnt alive by dragonfire. The panicked horses of the Dothraki broke ranks and trampled around, creating more chaos, which Aegon utilised to his advantage.
“All lines, advance!” Aegon roared with a sword raised in the air.
Shields splintered, swords clashed, and screams of agony mingled with the brutal roars of combat. Aegon pushed forward, his sword swinging in precise, deadly arcs. Each strike was measured, and each movement was controlled. A Dothraki lunged at him, swinging his arakh with brutal strength. Aegon parried the blow, his own blade moving with lethal precision, slicing through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood splattered on his face, but he paid no heed and moved on to the next opponent.
The smell of blood and sweat filled the air, thick and overwhelming. Aegon barely registered it, his focus unyielding as he cut down enemy after enemy, his movements a dance of lethal precision. He could hear Ser Reginald shouting orders and could see Ser Jon rallying the men to hold the line, their presence bolstering the soldiers’ courage.
The first wave of his reserve army crashed into the flanks of the Dothraki army. The savages were unable to properly mount a defence against the charging knights of the Vale and the Crownlands. The earth trembled as the knights surged forward, their spears lowered, their banners streaming like flames in the wind.
The plains exploded into chaos as the knights descended upon the enemy like a storm. The first ranks of the Dothraki savages barely had time to turn before the knights crashed into them, the sheer force of the charge shattering their formation. Spears plunged into the unprotected flesh, horses trampled the fallen, and the air was filled with the screams of the dying.
The momentum of the charge carried the knights deep into the enemy ranks, scattering the Dothraki army like chaff before the wind. The knights moved with deadly precision, their training and discipline turning the chaos to their advantage. Small groups of Dothraki riders tried to rally, but the knights cut them down mercilessly, their war cries drowning out the battlefield.
The tide of the battle began to turn. The Dothraki, stunned by the ferocity of the charge, faltered, their ranks crumbling under the relentless assault.
Another stream of dragonfire fell upon the ranks of the Dothraki army, burning the men and their horses to ashes.
Aegon slashed through the unprotected belly of a Dothraki soldier with his sword, spilling the contents of his enemy’s stomach. He switched to another opponent and engaged in a fierce bout of swordplay. He ended up cutting through the wrists of his opponent, and a prompt stab through the stomach saw his enemy's downfall.
“To me!” Aegon roared as he led a charge into the disoriented ranks of the horse lords.
Aegon surged forward, leading the counter-attack. His men followed, pouring out from the shield wall, their battle cries rising as they charged into the disarrayed Dothraki ranks. The once-fierce horde was now fragmented, their famed cavalry charge disrupted. Aegon cut his way through the chaos, his sword flashing, his armour splattered with blood as he fought with unyielding determination. Every swing of his sword claimed a Dothraki life. He became a whirlwind of death unleashed upon the Dothraki horde and showed no mercy against his opponents. Each swing was without hesitation with the intent to kill.
In the thick of the fray, Aegon faced a Dothraki khal, a towering figure with fierce eyes and a braid nearly to his waist, adorned with bells that rang with each movement. The khal roared, swinging his arakh in a vicious arc. Aegon parried the strike, feeling the force of the blow reverberate up his arm. They clashed again and again, their strikes quick and brutal, neither giving an inch.
The khal screamed something unintelligent, mocking him in the guttural language of the Dothraki. But Aegon remained silent, his focus on the fight and his movements precise. The khal lunged from atop his horse, his arakh aimed at Aegon’s throat. Aegon ducked, pivoting, his own blade flashing as he brought it down with deadly accuracy. His blade cut through the khal’s chest, slicing deep. The khal reeled back, his eyes widening in shock as he bled from the wound.
Aegon capitalised on the surprise and readily went in for the kill. His sword flashed and cut through the air with precision. He cut through the khal’s neck as if a hot knife cut through butter.
The bloodriders accompanying the khal tried to take revenge, but they were quickly cut down by the Dragonshields or the knights on his side.
Aegon took a step back, breathing heavily, his gaze sweeping over the battlefield. The Dothraki horde, leaderless and broken, had begun to retreat. Their once-proud charge was reduced to a scattered flight across the plains. Gael made their retreat costly as she took repeated passes over the fleeing Dothraki horde and gave them a fiery death. The Dragonshields were quick to organise into disciplined lines of archers to rain death upon them with their arrows under the command of Ser Jon.
His own men cheered, their voices lifting in victory, but Aegon raised his hand, silencing them.
“See to the wounded,” he commanded. “We’ve won the day, but there will be more battles to come.”
As his soldiers tended to the dead and dying, Aegon looked out over the blood-soaked fields of Andalos, the bodies of men and horses lying together in the dust. His heart was heavy, for the price had been steep, though they had triumphed on the battlefield. Seeing the battlefield only reinforced his need to expedite the plans to create a fleet of ships to transport the Andals from this part of the world.