The army of Volantis marched with three hundred war elephants.
Such a massive number of elephants were not only moving supply depots and excellent mounts, but once battle began, their charge would be nearly unstoppable.
Drogo's Dothraki forces were not only attacking Viserys Targaryen' supply lines.
They had no intention of sparing Volantis either.
Their raids had already begun to wear down the patience of Volantis' commander, Malaqo.
"Why is there no ice again?!"
The lukewarm, slightly sour wine in his hand made Malaqo visibly irritated.
"Archon, Archon my lord... our supply convoy was attacked by the Dothraki. The ice prepared for you was taken as well."
"Useless trash!"
Malaqo hurled the exquisite crystal goblet to the ground, shattering it.
The slave soldiers and servants around him trembled in fear.
Everyone knew that if Malaqo was displeased, someone would die.
Because of this, his servants would rather endure ten times the suffering themselves just to provide him with the slightest comfort.
Otherwise, they risked losing their lives.
"You can't even handle something this simple? Nail the man in charge of the supply transport to a cross!"
Though it was the height of summer, Malaqo's cold, aged voice made the tent feel like an ice cellar.
"Yes, Archon."
At that moment, Alios, who had accompanied Malaqo on the campaign, entered the tent.
"My lord, Drogo requests an audience."
"Who?" Malaqo leaned forward, disbelief on his face.
Malaqo rode out of the camp atop a war elephant.
Around him clustered more than three hundred Tiger Cloaks, forming a dense defensive ring like a moving sea urchin.
In the distance, Khal Drogo watched with a faint, mocking smile.
Compared to Malaqo's heavily guarded formation, Drogo's side was sparse. Barely more than a dozen riders.
You could count them at a glance.
Despite himself, Malaqo felt tense.
Drogo had just annihilated the army of the Three Daughters. Even if Volantis' army was stronger, Malaqo could not be entirely confident.
Still, he could not show weakness.
When the distance between them closed to about sixty or seventy paces, Malaqo spoke first.
"Drogo, instead of waiting for our armies at Vaes Dothrak, you think raiding our supply lines will force us to retreat?"
Drogo's expression remained calm.
In fluent Valyrian, he replied, "Archon Malaqo, if your so-called alliance truly kills me... have you thought about what comes next?"
"Next?" Malaqo frowned, vaguely understanding, yet unable to fully grasp the implication.
"If the Targaryens lead the Free Cities to destroy the strongest khal of the Dothraki..."
"Then their prestige will become unmatched."
Since receiving the blessing of the Horse God, Drogo's mind had sharpened.
His strength was not only physical. His sense for politics and strategy had improved as well.
He had never been a mere brute.
Through this meeting, he intended to weaken the alliance itself.
Of course, Malaqo was not so easily persuaded.
What Drogo said was true. But if he betrayed the alliance now, history would remember him only with disgrace.
Besides, many already believed that even without the alliance, Viserys could defeat Drogo.
If Malaqo did not secure enough merit now, his position afterward would only worsen.
"What happens after Viserys is none of my concern," Malaqo said, drawing his sword and pointing it at Drogo. "Right now, we deal with you."
Drogo's attendants bristled with anger.
Their horses pawed the ground restlessly.
But Drogo himself remained completely at ease.
"I am not asking you to betray your pitiful alliance," he said. "I only ask that you slow your advance... and give me a chance to kill Viserys."
"You? Kill Viserys?" Malaqo laughed. "Do you not know he is protected by the Kingsguard?"
But his laughter died instantly.
Drogo's horse surged forward like a black bolt of lightning.
Before the Tiger Cloaks could react, Drogo had already closed more than ten meters.
Spears thrust forward in panic.
If he did not slow down, he would be impaled instantly.
But something unbelievable happened.
With a flick of his arakh, Drogo caught several spears under his arm. Then he twisted and flung them aside, sending the Tiger Cloaks flying.
His horse reared and slammed its hooves down onto two soldiers' chests.
Drogo let out a wild roar toward the elephant.
Startled, the beast began to rampage.
The Tiger Cloaks scattered instinctively, while Malaqo was nearly shaken apart atop its back.
Drogo gave chase, then leapt onto the elephant.
With one arm, he seized Malaqo. With the other, he controlled and calmed the animal.
The contrast was absurd.
A frail old man, barely over five feet tall, held effortlessly in the arms of a towering warrior.
But there was nothing amusing about it to Malaqo.
He was terrified.
The Tiger Cloaks regrouped and surrounded the elephant again.
Drogo's riders let out piercing cries, and across the horizon, countless Dothraki riders appeared.
Drogo smiled down at Malaqo.
"Archon, trust me this once. If Viserys dies, the Free Cities will return to how they once were."
"Volantis will again be the master of the Rhoyne."
"And the wealth of Gohor... we will divide it as before."
Long after Drogo's forces withdrew, Malaqo remained silent.
A strange emotion flickered in his gray-brown eyes.
Jealousy.
The raw strength Drogo had displayed was something every man desired.
Malaqo had reached the peak of power. Yet he could not stop his body from aging.
He took a deep breath, then looked at the Tiger Cloaks.
"Kill them all," he said coldly.
___________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/BloodAncestor