Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 9: Fogo Attacks
The scorching sun burned the vast sea of ​​grass, and everything looked yellow and dry. The long summer had lasted for eight years. According to the old people in Karasa, an unprecedented drought was about to come.

Near the blacksmith's tent, the smell of rust and charcoal stung my nose.

The flames from the newly built furnace surged, making the blacksmiths' dark cheeks red.

The calloused hands gripped the hammer tightly, hitting the red-hot steel billet repeatedly, sparks flying everywhere.

They were forging Damascus scimitars, weapons never before seen on the Grass Sea, known as Visha-Atak, which means "Thunder Fang" in Dothraki.

After countless failures, blacksmiths finally mastered the crucible steelmaking technique, fusing hematite with charcoal to produce fine steel.

These steels, combined with the method provided by Laharo, were used to make scimitars. The blades had patterns like flowing water, and were extremely sharp and breathtaking.

Lazar brandished the newly forged scimitar, which made a sharp whistling sound. He looked at the Arak scimitar on the shelf beside him, and a disdainful smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

"These things," he pointed with his chin and said to the other warriors, "when charging, if you accidentally hook the enemy's armor, your scimitar will slip out of your hand, or you will fall off your horse, and die an ugly death."

He looked at a young warrior next to him and handed him the scimitar. "Here, try it."

The young soldier's eyes were full of excitement.

When Khal Rakharo killed Drogo with this scimitar, he was watching from a distance and saw with his own eyes the surprised expression on Drogo's face when his sword was cut off.

The young soldier tried the knife and was not used to it.

"This knife is much lighter than the Yarakh. You're not applying force in the right way."

Lazar patted the young warrior on the shoulder, took the scimitar, chopped, spun, and counterattacked. Finally, he drew an arc and easily embedded it into the wooden stake next to him. The surrounding warriors burst into loud cheers.

"see it!"

Lazar looked around and shouted, "This knife is very light and takes less effort to chop. Whether in cavalry or on foot, it's much more convenient than those heavy arakhs."

The arakh was an infantry weapon used by the Assyrian Empire four thousand years ago, used to hook and pull away the enemy's weapons or shields in the infantry phalanx.

But the Dothraki are not foot soldiers.

The Damascus scimitar is more suitable for chopping on horseback. In modern times, even the knight's longsword has been replaced by the scimitar.

On horseback, the heavy arakh was a burden. Let alone charging into battle, just running around with it would make your shoulders sore and weak.

The Damascus scimitar was invented two thousand years later than the Yarakh scimitar. It was developed and promoted by the Egyptian Mamluk cavalry, which was also the period when the cavalry matured.

Lazar didn't know this, but he was experienced in combat. He only tried using the Damascus scimitar once and immediately discovered its advantages.

This kind of weapon is the soul of the cavalry!

He raised his head, his gaze fixed on the eager young warriors, and shouted, "Boys! Watch out! I'll show you what a real weapon is!"

The two men stood facing each other in the open space, and the surrounding warriors formed a circle, roaring and cheering, looking forward to the bloody showdown.

Lazar let out a battle cry and took the lead in attacking.

The young warrior raised his sword to attack, but Lazar easily dodged it and swung the scimitar backhandedly.

"Click".

With a crisp sound, the Arak scimitar was easily cut off by the Atak scimitar.

The young warrior was shocked and retreated quickly, but Lazar's blade, like a poisonous snake spitting out its tongue, had already stopped in front of his throat.

"see it!"

Lazar himself was shocked by the sharpness of Atak's scimitar and said excitedly, "This is an indestructible scimitar! It is not only a weapon, but also your life! Take it and you can borrow the power of Kaa, and you will be the victor!"

The surrounding warriors burst into excited cheers, staring at the Atak scimitar in Lazar's hand, their eyes full of desire!
"I want one! You can take your pick of my horses and women!" a warrior shouted.

"Give it to me first, and I'll trade you three war horses!" Another warrior squeezed past the first speaker and raised the price. However, the blacksmith's smelting technology was far from mature, the yield was low, and the output was scarce.

Therefore, the Atak scimitar is not only a weapon, but also a symbol of honor and status, which only the most powerful warriors can possess.

In other words, any warrior who obtains the Atak scimitar is recognized by Khal Rahalo!

Currently, there are only thirty blacksmiths in the entire Khalasar, and only Rhallor's bloodriders and his carefully selected warriors can be equipped with such weapons.

"Only a great khal could create such a weapon!" An old warrior's eyes were filled with awe. "Khal Rahalo is a man blessed by the horse god!"

"With Atak, our Khalasar will be invincible!"

"Follow Khal Rahalo and conquer the world!"

The crowd erupted in frenzied shouts, and thousands of words ultimately boiled down to just one name:
"Rahalo! Rahalo! Rahalo..."

...

Laharo summoned Lazar, Jhogo, Quiro and Old Mosso to hold a meeting in the tent to discuss how to deal with the traitors.

Suddenly, Lakalo, who was in charge of reconnaissance and intelligence, rushed into the tent and shouted breathlessly,

"Blood of my blood, Fogo is coming! His khalasars are swarming like locusts, their horse-head banners obscuring the sky!"

The tent suddenly fell silent. The Kaskos held their breath, and only the crackling of the charcoal in the brazier could be heard.

Foggo commands the second most powerful khalasar on the Sea of ​​Grass. Now that Drogo is dead and the khalasar is divided, it is at its weakest, so he wants to take advantage of the situation.

He has always wanted to annex Lahalo's territory and people, expand his own power, and become the most powerful khal on the grassland.

"How many of them are there?" Rahalo asked coldly.

"Thirty thousand people!" As soon as Lacarlo said this, the atmosphere in the tent immediately became solemn.

Thirty thousand people means that Fogo has come out in full force, which means that if they fail, they will become corpses.

A severe drought, rare in the Grass Sea, is about to come, and Haralo occupies the Golden Fields and Dagger Lake area, which is the place with the most abundant water and grass.

It is less than ten days' ride from here to the free trade cities of Pentos, Qohor, etc. Down the Rhoyne River is Volantis, which leads directly to the Summer Sea.

If drought can happen here, it will probably be even more serious in other parts of Caohai.

I guess Fogo was worried about this, so he wanted to seize the time to occupy this land.

"Where do they come from?"

"The Forest of Qohor!"

"How far are they?"

"About four days' journey!"

The generals had complex expressions on their faces, showing both eagerness for the upcoming battle and a hint of uneasiness.

"Thirty thousand," Old Mosso frowned and stroked his gray beard, "We only have twenty thousand. This battle will be difficult to fight."

Laharo sat on a leather chair, leaning on his scimitar, his eyes sweeping over the people present.

This was his first battle as a rookie. If he failed, all his efforts would be in vain.

Fortunately, however, he was well prepared, having received the materials for the Molotov cocktail from Illyrio and had come up with a plan.

(End of this chapter)