"It's alright to have regrets, but don't let them drag you down if you want to be king."
Aegon Targaryen to his son Maegor Targaryen
As he approached, a broad-shouldered warrior with dark weathered skin stepped forward.
"Khal Aegon," the Jacko said, his voice rough but respectful. "You fought well. But the warriors… they whisper."
Aegon raised an eyebrow. "Whisper?"
"They saw your fury in battle. Some say you fought like a demon."
Aegon did not react, but he could see the way the others were watching him carefully.
"They wonder if you are truly of blood and bone, or something… more."
Aegon exhaled slowly. So that was it.
His loss of control, his bloodlust had made them question.
Good.
Let them wonder.
"Then let them whisper," Aegon said coldly. "So long as they fight when I command."
The bloodrider grinned, showing his teeth. "Oh, they will fight."
Aegon nodded. "Good."
The bloodrider smirked, pleased with the answer.
Then another voice spoke.
"Khal Aegon!"
Aegon turned to see one of his scouts riding toward him, his horse kicking up dust as he halted before them.
"We have found another khalasar."
Aegon's gaze sharpened. "How many?"
"More than eight thousand."
The gathered warriors stirred, murmurs rippling through them.
Eight thousand.
Eight thousand. Aegon knew he couldn't attack them head-on, even though his numbers had increased after the last fight. They were still far from eight thousand.
After all the last battle had been very brutal many of his warriors and the enemy warriors had died.
Right now Aegon guessed his numbers were about five thousand meaning at least three thousand five hundred Dothraki died.
It seemed it was time to try out using some simple tactics, as he looked at the system map that appeared before him some ideas came to his mind, the only problem was that he was still injured.
His bloodrider stepped forward. "We cannot fight them head-on. They will overwhelm us."
Aegon smiled. "Then we do not fight them head-on."
He turned to the scout. "Where are they now?"
"Two days ride north, moving slow."
Aegon's mind worked quickly.
He could see the map in his mind his numbers, their numbers, the terrain.
He did not have the numbers to face them directly.
But that did not mean he could not win.
Aegon turned to Jacko.
"We move at night," he ordered. "We strike before they know we are there."
His bloodrider grinned.
"Aegon the Bloodforged," he said approvingly.
"The bloodforged?"
"That's what the Dothraki are calling you."
The moon was high, casting silver light over the endless plains. Aegon stood at the edge of the camp, his cloak billowing slightly in the night breeze, a day had passed but his body still aching from his wounds.
But the pain was nothing new to him.
Pain was a teacher, a reminder.
His injuries were deep, but his enhanced body had begun to heal at a rate faster than normal men. Still, the battle ahead was not one he could afford to fight recklessly.
His army was outnumbered.
If he charged head-on, as he had in the last battle, they would be overwhelmed.
This time, strategy had to win the war.
His bloodriders Jacko and Baqo and some Dothraki warriors who Aegon had noticed were more loyal to him gathered around him, their eyes sharp, their expressions expectant.
"Eight thousand," one of them muttered. "That is a big Khalasar."
"Big does not mean unbeatable," Aegon said coldly.
His gaze shifted toward the hand-drawn map of the terrain before him, drawn of details from the system map.
The enemy was camped near a series of shallow ravines, where the land dipped in uneven stretches. It would normally be a good defensive position, but for the Dothraki, who relied on speed and mobility, it was a trap waiting to be sprung.
"We cannot fight them head-on," Aegon said. "So we will divide them."
The warriors leaned closer, intrigued.
Aegon pointed at the ravines on the map.
"They are moving slowly because they are carrying many supplies. That means their camp is spread wide. We attack at night, not in a single battle, but in waves."
Baqo frowned. "The Dothraki fight as one. They will regroup."
"They will try," Aegon corrected. "But they will not get the chance."
He turned to one of the Dothraki men. "You take five hundred riders and circle the camp from the east. Burn their food stores, cut down their sentries, and when their warriors ride to meet you disappear."
The man grinned. "A raid."
"A distraction," Aegon clarified.
His finger moved to the south of the enemy's camp.
"Another five hundred will strike their horses. Kill the guards, free the horses, and send them stampeding through the camp."
A low chuckle rippled through the gathered warriors.
The Dothraki were nothing without their horses. If their mounts were scattered and panic spread, they would be easier to pick off.
Aegon's eyes glowed with a sharp intensity.
"And when their warriors are disoriented when they are too busy trying to control their horses and put out their fires… we strike from the west."
His main force, of four thousand Dothraki, would hit their flanks while they were still in chaos.
Dothraki did not fear battle, but they fought best when their lines were strong and their charges coordinated. Aegon's plan would shatter that.
"We will not fight them as one army," Aegon said. "We will fight them as many knives, cutting from every direction. By the time they realize what is happening, half of them will already be dead."
The warriors exchanged grins and nods of approval.
It was a bold plan.
And the Dothraki loved boldness.
(Night of Battle)
Aegon sat atop his black stallion, his eyes locked on the distant fires of the enemy camp.
The first screams tore through the night like a war horn.
From the east, the first wave of riders struck.
Tents went up in flames, startled warriors ran from their beds half-dressed, grabbing for weapons.
Then came the second wave.
Horses screamed as they were cut loose, hooves pounding wildly as they raced through the camp in panic.
Dothraki shouted in confusion, some running after their mounts, others trying to rally against an enemy they couldn't see.
And then…
Aegon gave the command.