At dawn, the first light of day dispelled the fog of night, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of grass, though tinged with the unmistakable odor of horse manure.
The Dothraki, as was their custom, packed away their tents and mounted their swift steeds. Until new orders came from Monggo Ka'o, the tribe would continue their march toward the outskirts of Qohor.An army of more than forty thousand was no small matter in other lands, requiring a well-organized logistical support and a tight command structure. Yet, for the Dothraki, such movements were as natural as breathing—a way of life.Riding horses was life; so too was raiding and pillaging. Each day, they lived, and each day, they marched toward death.The sun rose and set, and as long as a Ka'o could ride, all remained well.On the following day, the tribe noted that Monggo Ka'o seemed to favor conversing with an elderly man named Ofer. Was it possible that the Ka'o intended to appoint this elderly man, who could not ride, as his bloodsworn guard?Another day passed, and with the sun's descent, a party of scouts did not return. Monggo Ka'o declared that the missing scouts had been sent farther out to survey water sources.By the seventh sunset, the tribe had arrived at the Sarn River on the western edge of the Dothraki Sea, where their march came to a halt. The missing scouts returned safely to the tribe.The next morning, Monggo, riding his fiery red steed, followed Ofer's guidance and arrived at the ruins of a city by the Sarn River."This is Vys Kwo," Ofer said softly.A gentle breeze swept through as Ofer ran his hand along the stone walls of the ruins. On his weathered face, a faint smile began to bloom, as if recalling forgotten memories.It was well-known that the Dothraki cared little for construction. Monggo halted his warhorse and laughed:"Vys Kwo, that is unmistakably a Dothraki name."The world is full of wonders, and it was an uncommon sight indeed for a Dothraki man to live to such an advanced age as Ofer.Ofer's prominent cheekbones framed a face weathered by time, his forehead etched with deep lines, yet beneath it all, his eyes, though cloudy, held a gentle warmth. Monggo noticed that the old man's exposed arms were unnervingly slender and elongated.After a long pause, Ofer's absent gaze seemed to sharpen, and he spoke again:"Tangazan Feyn called this city Shanas. Vys Kwo is the name the Dothraki gave it—'City of Worms.'"Monggo was taken aback. This was a foreign tongue, and before he could respond, Ofer continued:"All prosperity meets its dusk, all golden ages come to an end. Tangazan Feyn, as the high men call themselves, bore another name—Sahlorians."After these words, Ofer did not offer further explanation and continued toward the Sarn River.Monggo, watching the old man's hunched form, felt a stir of thought.At first, Monggo had sought someone familiar with the Dothraki Sea, not giving much thought to Ofer's background, only knowing him to be well-versed in geography. After this interaction, Monggo realized that the old man might be hiding much more than he appeared.To rule a people, one must understand their history and culture. In his days as a raider, a healer in his Kas had told him of the Dothraki's oral history and legends.Once, the Dothraki Sea was not as vast as it was now. Many referred to it as the Essos Great Plain, and the peoples who lived here were not solely Dothraki. The "high men" had once been a nomadic tribe on the plains, and later, they built the Sahlori Kingdom along the banks of the Sarn River. At its height, fifty city-states surrounded the capital of Shanas, and for over two thousand years, they thrived in an unparalleled civilization. The name Sahlorians came from this very legacy.As Ofer had said, all empires fall. The Sahlorians, once dismissive of the rising Dothraki, found too late that their kingdom crumbled beneath the Dothraki hooves. The Sahlorians were reduced to the small settlement of Seass, a mere remnant of their former glory.Since then, the Dothraki's horses had trampled the Great Plain, transforming it into the Dothraki Sea.The Sahlorians were known for their long, graceful limbs, brown skin, and eyes and hair as dark as night. Ofer, surely, was not a pure Dothraki, but rather had some deep connection to the Sahlorians.However, Monggo did not fear that Ofer would pose a threat to him. The Sahlorian kingdom had been gone for centuries, and Ofer had lived peacefully among the tribe for decades before Monggo ever rose to the Ka'o position.With that thought, Monggo tucked away his musings and urged his horse onward.Riding through the ruins, he arrived at a bridge that spanned the Sarn River.From his vantage point, the other side of the bridge revealed a wide, straight road that stretched toward the horizon like a spear.At this moment, Ofer straightened his back, and for the first time, Monggo could glimpse the faintest shadow of a Dothraki warrior in his stance.Hearing the sound of hooves behind him, Ofer turned with a joyful expression and then, with a firm step, pressed his foot onto the smooth, ribbon-like surface of the road. He laughed heartily and said:"The Valyrian Road, built from lava, is wide enough to accommodate three carts side by side. The architectural and sculptural mastery of the Valyrians was as renowned as their forging of Valyrian steel."Monggo, who knew the legend of Valyrian steel, recognized its significance. It was a metal imbued with magic, lighter yet stronger and sharper than any other steel. After the Doom of Valyria, weapons forged from it had become precious relics, each with its own tale.Monggo said nothing in response. He dismounted and marveled at the road, its smooth surface rising half a foot from the ground, crafted from solidified lava.In its prime, the Valyrians had constructed a network of roads connecting all the major cities on the continent of Essos. Though the Doom had occurred centuries ago, these roads remained remarkably well-preserved.Ofer gestured toward the western horizon and spoke:"This Valyrian Road leads to the ruins of Vys Kadok. It was once the city of Essarya, a colony founded by the Valyrians."Monggo concentrated, then drew a dagger from his belt, holding the blade toward himself and offering the hilt to Ofer."Using the Sarn River and its tributaries, as well as the Valyrian Road as a guide, can you sketch a map of the area around Vys Wok and Vys Kadok?" Monggo asked.Ofer hesitated, then slowly withdrew his hand. His gaze turned serious and calm, and he replied:"My Ka'o, please allow me to speak plainly."Monggo sheathed his dagger and nodded, signaling that Ofer could speak freely.Ofer did not hesitate."If you seek a route for travel, my map is sufficient. If you seek to locate your enemies and assess their numbers, your scouts will suffice. But if you wish to win a war, you must study the terrain yourself. The Dothraki Sea is vast beyond measure. To cross it once takes the tribe three years. My map and your scouts alone will not ensure victory."Monggo knew full well the importance of terrain, and that was why he had sent scouts and sought the map in Ofer's mind.But was this enough to determine the outcome of war? Looking at the rushing waters of the Sarn River, he thought of the Battle of the Wu River and the legendary tactics of boldness and numbers.To become Ka'o, commanding forty thousand tribesmen and leading twenty thousand howling warriors, was a heady ambition that passed in an instant.After a moment of reflection, Monggo realized that Ofer's words were true—it had been his arrogance.For it is the terrain that is the soldier's ally. To predict the enemy and to master the difficult terrains of war is the way of the great generals. He who understands this will triumph, and he who ignores it will fail.