Game of Thrones: Rise of Kings

The red setting sun converges, and the river surface shines with sparkling blood, like the momentary fragrance of life ignited and blooming.

The land that has been nourished by blood will surely grow magnificent flowers in the coming year.

The "Jakarang" wielded a giant ax, severing the heads of the dead and dying. Little girls quickly pulled arrows from the corpses, placing them in baskets with laughter.

Competing for resources, reducing the population, and ensuring victors have more living space and supplies, war is regarded as a biological instinct, ingrained in the genes of the Dothraki people.

The raging flames illuminated the sky red, and Marco rode a warhorse to inspect the injured roaring warriors. Everyone looked at him with eyes full of reverence and fanaticism.

At this time, Oliver approached on horseback, bowed, and said:

"Great Khal, you have lost more than 300 warriors, but you have conquered over 35,000 new tribes. According to the new tribes, Khal Jumo and his bloodriders, along with all the bandits, died in battle."

The old Dothraki had participated in many battles but had never seen such exaggerated results. He now somewhat believed that the young Khal before him was blessed by the gods. As Khal Marco had said, the gods tied defeat in the braids of their enemies.

He watched the entire battle and participated in the plan to march back to the Undercurrent River and raid the Long Bridge, yet he still couldn't believe it.

The rays of light drifted over the corner of Marco's mouth, and he couldn't suppress the lightness and joy in his heart, loudly proclaiming:

"In the name of Khal, treat the new tribe properly. Once they surrender to me, they share the same blood. They cannot be insulted. If anyone goes against my will, I will personally cut off their head."

"Wisdom Khal, I obey your wishes," Oliver smiled, expressing his obedience but did not leave immediately. Instead, he continued, "I also want to recommend a warrior to you."

Seeing that there was no one behind the old man, Marco said doubtfully:

"Where are they? Are they among the injured?"

At this moment, Oliver's eyes began to shrink, and he did not dare to look directly at him, saying awkwardly:

"It's just a runaway slave, but he has been captured, and now Kosoro wants to execute him with his own hands."

Marco smiled indifferently, already having a guess in his mind, but he did not answer directly, instead asking:

"Oliver, I believe you have your own reasons for recommending this person, but I also trust Kosoro. So, what is so special about this slave, and why must he die?"

Oliver relaxed upon hearing this and explained softly:

"This man was originally a slave of the Jumo Khal tribe. Before the battle ended, he took advantage of the riots on the east coast, stole a horse, and fled the battlefield. On the way, he was discovered by our patrolling scouts. He was captured after injuring twelve people."

Seeing the angry look on Khal's face, Oliver quickly explained:

"All twelve were only slightly injured. The slave didn't inflict serious harm, otherwise he could have escaped."

Now Marco was interested in this slave, provided that the person wanted to work for him. Many historical figures in the original world were born as slaves.

He could give this slave a chance, but he wouldn't pardon him irrationally.

Thinking of this, Marco glanced at the anxious old man and, in the other's expectant eyes, said loudly:

"You can go to Kosoro now. If this slave is still alive, convey my order: give this slave fifty riding whips according to the Dothraki punishment for escaped slaves, then incorporate him into Kosoro's Khas. If he attempts to escape again, Kosoro will kill him by the most cruel means. This slave must kill twelve enemies on the battlefield to obtain true forgiveness."

Oliver smiled again and rode away in a hurry.

Marco watched the old man's retreating figure and shouted:

"Tell that slave that when he is forgiven, I will give him a chance to escape slavery."

The hazy moonlight weaves a mist-like brilliance, and the stars this night are particularly numerous and dazzling.

The light of the moon and stars shines on the high ground far away from the Undercurrent River.

After the battle, Marco fully realized that even if water was inconvenient, the camp must be far from the river and occupy high ground.

"Khal, we caught a caravan trying to get close to the camp. They were carrying a large box of gold. The leader of the caravan claimed to be an envoy from the city of Qohor."

Outside the camp, a group of Dothraki roaring warriors led a thin middle-aged man with a goatee on a rope.

However, there was a hint of sharpness hidden in the man's calm and bright eyes.

"Are you from Qohor?" Marco frowned, suspicious of the man's identity. "As far as I know, Qohor has closed the suburban shopping malls, shut the city gates, and prohibited people from going out. How could they send an envoy to pay tribute to me with gold?"

The man with the goatee looked calm and took a measured, half-step toward the light. He raised his bound hands, reflecting them in the firelight to prove he would not use evil means. He spoke in a hoarse, elegant, and gentle voice:

"Dear Khal Marco, I am the masked priest of the Black Goat God, Morey Hutt. I was entrusted by the believers in Qohor City to pay tribute to the victor."

The man's words surprised Oliver, who was preparing to act as a translator.

Morey Hutt was able to speak standard Dothraki proficiently, explaining why the Roaring Warriors brought him to the camp.

The Dothraki language, often irritable, had a different gentleness and tranquility in his unique voice.

Oliver put aside his strange look, turned slightly sideways, and softly explained to Marco:

"The Black Goat God is the god of the Qohor people. He requires blood sacrifices daily. Usually, the Qohor people offer calves, steers, and horses before the altar of the Black Goat God. On sacred festivals, masked priests use knives to dedicate criminals' lives to the gods. In times of crisis, the city's nobles offer their children to the Black Goat, hoping it will protect the city."

The objective explanation made Morey Hutt, the masked priest of the Black Goat God, a little angry.

However, Oliver glanced at Morey Hutt and deliberately said loudly:

"I heard that the Faceless Men believe the Black Goat God is an incarnation of the Thousand-Faced God, in the House of Black and White..."

"Ah, shut up, shut up, pagan."

At this moment, Morey Hutt's face was hideous and almost crazy, no longer elegant and calm.

The name of the Faceless Men also shocked Marco's heart. He was eager to revive the body of the Twelve Trials of the Noble Phantasm because he felt his life was not guaranteed. Not many could threaten his life now, and the Faceless Men were one of them.

The Faceless Men are a religious assassin group believing in the Thousand-Faced God, the god of death. They gather in the House of Black and White in Braavos, a free trade city-state. They are extremely skilled at disguise, can change their appearance at will, and possess a strong poison that can quickly suffocate people to death, called "Strangler."

Marco could understand Oliver's intentions. The sudden appearance of Morey Hutt was indeed suspicious.

The city of Qohor was reluctant to pay tribute to Khal Jumo, but now that the war has just ended, and the situation is unclear, they are willing to pay tribute to him in gold. This is too abnormal.

But by the same token, Marco felt it was impossible for the people of Qohor to invite a Faceless Man so quickly, and they wouldn't pay such a high fee to have a Faceless Man assassinate a Dothraki Khal.

The Faceless Men believe taking a person's life is a sacrifice to the gods, and the price is usually very high. The price changes according to the importance and defense level of the target. To assassinate an ordinary merchant, only half the price is enough to hire an entire army of ordinary mercenaries.

Maybe Oliver just wanted to use the belief in the Black Goat God to test Morey Hutt's identity, but mentioning the Thousand-Faced God inadvertently made Marco wary of the Faceless Men. After all, he had to be on guard against their reputation.