Game of Thrones: Killing to the top

"Peace is written in blood because the people who stand against the crown don't understand any other language, so let the blood flow peace shall follow soon after."

 Aegon Taragaryen to ****************

The ship had served its purpose. Now, it was nothing more than a grave drifting toward the shore. Aegon stood at the bow, watching as land neared, the wind carrying the stench of blood and salt.

He did not need to set foot in Volantis. The city was a distraction a pit of slavers, schemers, and parasites. His goal lay further east, where the great sea of grass stretched endlessly beneath the open sky. 

Aegon turned his gaze inward, summoning the system map.

A translucent screen flickered before his eyes, displaying an expansive view of Essos. His mind focused on his target.

The Dothraki Sea.

Aegon didn't have a target in mind, but he would focus on one of the smaller Khalasar, he looked at the map and plotted a path forward, one that avoided any small settlement or rough terrain.

Without a second thought, he set off, leaving the merchant ship and bodies behind. He was sure someone would find them in the coming days, but that wasn't his concern. When that happened, he would already be far away, maybe even in the Dothraki Sea.

His next destination was the Dothraki Sea's endless plains where only the strong thrived. He would not go there to trade or negotiate. He would go to conquer.

Aegon's plan was simple in theory but dangerous in execution. The Dothraki valued strength above all else. If he were to challenge and kill a Khal, the bloodriders would fight to the death, but the rest of the khalasar would follow him. Once he had his first khalasar, he would lead them against others, using constant war to strengthen his forces. The Dothraki had no central ruler only the strong survived, and the weak were crushed beneath their hooves.

And Aegon had no intention of being weak.

Days passed as Aegon traveled through the wild plains of Essos. The world around him had changed rolling hills of golden grass stretched endlessly in all directions. The wind carried the distant echoes of hoofbeats, and at night, the sky was vast and endless, the stars burning bright above him.

Navigating the Dothraki Sea was no easy feat, but Aegon did not need to wander. His system map had already provided him with the locations of several khalasars, but he needed to choose his first target carefully.

Some khalasars were too large Aegon didn't feel safe carrying out his plan on them. Others were engaged in battle, and a confrontation would be too unpredictable. But one stood out a khalasar of moderate size, isolated from the others.

Aegon's lips curled into a smirk. Perfect.

He pressed on, his path clear. He would reach the camp, issue a challenge, and slaughter the khal in front of his warriors. 

His conquest was just about to begin.

The golden grass of the Dothraki Sea swayed in the wind, an endless ocean of movement that stretched far beyond the horizon. The only sounds were the occasional rustling of the plains and the distant thunder of hooves. Aegon had been traveling for days, closing the distance between himself and his target.

The sun was high in the sky when he finally heard it. The rhythmic pounding of galloping horses. He halted, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword, as a group of Dothraki riders emerged from the hills ahead, their dark eyes sharp as they took in his lone figure.

Their arrival surprised Aegon as he wasn't looking at the system map.

There were six of them, their horses adorned with leather saddles and crude iron decorations. Their brown hair behind them. Each carried an arakh, the curved blade of the Dothraki, while a few had bows slung over their backs.

Aegon remained still as they rode up to him, their leader—a tall man with a scar running across his cheek reining in his horse a few feet away. He looked young but battle-hardened, his toned arms revealing years of war and slaughter.

The warrior sneered, speaking in rapid Dothraki, his tone laced with amusement and curiosity.

"Foolish foreigner… you walk alone in the land of the horse lords?"

Aegon didn't respond he did not understand their language. Not yet.

Another rider laughed, eyeing Aegon's sword with interest.

"Perhaps he is lost, or perhaps he wishes to die," he mused, his voice thick with an accent.

The first warrior leaned forward on his saddle, eyes narrowing.

(Dothraki language detected,50 points to level up Dothraki language to level five being proficient.)

The alert from the system was just what Aegon was waiting on, he had checked with the system on he was on the merchant ship making sure this would work.

'System use the points.'

Immediately Aegon got a lot of information pouring into his brain about the Dothraki language.

"You wear a sword, but you are no Khal. Are you a coward who fled his war?"

Aegon exhaled slowly, finally understanding what they were saying.

A slow smirk formed on Aegon's lips. He met the leader's gaze, his voice calm and deliberate.

"You speak of cowards, yet you sit on your horse while I stand before you."

The Dothraki warriors tensed, their laughter fading. The leader's brows furrowed in confusion, then realization.

"You… you speak our tongue?"

Aegon took a step forward, his boots pressing into the soft earth. "I do now."

The leader scowled, his grip tightening on his arakh.