At the horizon, dawn emerged like a gleaming sword, slicing through the darkened veil of night, spilling forth the blood-tinged light of morning.
Beneath the vast dome of the sky, six thousand Dothraki Screaming Warriors, each riding two horses, gathered at the ruins of Vys Kvore, situated by the banks of the Saan River, ready for battle.
Monggo, mounted upon his fiery steed, surged forward from the rising sun in the east, his chest swelling with the sound of thunderous roars:
"Since I could ride a horse, I have never heard of a Dothraki fearing war."
The six thousand Dothraki warriors, who had witnessed him slay Zhecokao and his bloodsworn in single combat, now saw Monggo's towering form and the noble valor of his galloping steed. As they heard his roar that could rend stone and shatter the skies, the air reverberated with jubilation, akin to the rumblings of thunder.
Monggo raised his arakh sword high, his horse galloping with unmatched ferocity as he bellowed:
"Dothraki—this is our nature!"
The warriors, with wild yells, raised their own curved blades and spears in unison, the air sizzling with their fervor.
Monggo galloped past them, the clash of weapons ringing through the air, and continued to shout:
"Now, we must march swiftly, crossing rivers and plains, through forests and fields. All of this is for you, for your honor, and for your wealth. Dothraki men, Dothraki warriors, Dothraki Screaming Warriors, follow me, follow your Khall! Victory, at any cost—victory, glory to the brave Dothraki warriors, wealth to the Dothraki!"
The sound of their roars and the pounding of hooves shook the trees, sending tremors through the very earth. Under Monggo's leadership, the six thousand warriors surged from the banks of the Saan River.
The army crossed the Saan River at the Vys Kvore ruins and began their march north along the Valyrian Road.
Each rider rode two horses, exchanging them as they went. Even in sleep, they tied themselves to their steeds. Their supplies, consisting of beans, dried meat, and dairy, were carried in leather pouches containing milk, which was mixed with water, slung over their horses. The constant motion of the galloping horses turned the milk into a thick paste, providing sustenance and hydration.
By noon the next day, the army entered the Kohor Forest, the largest forest in all of Essos. Towering trees, their trunks as wide as city gates, stood in majestic rows. The leaves glistened in the sunlight, casting golden hues across the land. The cavalry spread out, trotting through the woods, fortunate that the Dothraki were unmatched in their horsemanship.
But the forest was not without its dangers. Elk and striped tigers roamed within its depths. Dozens of Dothraki scouts had already met their end beneath the horns of the elk, or were dragged away along with their horses, leaving behind only mutilated remains.
The Dothraki were also skilled archers, often hunting to replenish their rations. They had even captured lemurs, their fur silver-white and their eyes a striking purple, a feature that reminded them of the Valyrians. Old Ovor explained that these lemurs were known as the "Little Valyrians" and were believed to bring good fortune if one stroked their fur.
The trees in the Kohor Forest were so dense that they obscured the sky, and the Dothraki could only climb the tallest branches to determine the time and their direction.
As the third sun began to set, Ovor suggested that from this point onward, they reduce the rations for both men and horses, saving as much as possible for unforeseen circumstances. The forest was disorienting, and luck was just as important as preparation. He also worried that the journey of the Qohorik tribe might not proceed as smoothly as planned. Once their course was set, it would slowly slip out of control, requiring quick adjustments based on the circumstances.
By the eighth dawn, Monggo and his six thousand riders finally emerged at the edge of the Kohor Forest. The Dothraki, by nature nomadic, now appeared more like wild men of the mountains.
Despite Ovor's guidance, they were a day behind their expected timeline.
Before fully leaving the forest, they were confronted with an expansive body of water. Monggo's heart sank as if he had descended into the depths of the sea—this was the northernmost edge of the Kohor Forest, and they had unintentionally reached the shore.
He couldn't help but wonder if they had gone astray again, though it seemed more like a lake.
Just then, the Dothraki warriors began to stir restlessly.
"This is no poison water—it's a source of water. My horse can drink from it."
The Dothraki referred to seawater as "poison water," never trusting any liquid that a horse couldn't drink.
Old Ovor dismounted, scooped up the water in his hands, and splashed it on his face. He exclaimed, "This must be the lake to the north of Kohor. I've been here before. Its waters are connected to the Darkflow River. If we follow the lake southwest, we'll find the river."
Looking towards the red sun rising in the east, and then at the lake before them, with the distant silhouettes of the Nothos Hills barely visible, Monggo knew they had finally found the right path.
He quickly dispatched hundreds of scouts to probe the area and ordered the main force to rest.
At that moment, Monggo fully understood the brilliance of Li Jing, the Duke of Weiguo, and Huo Qubing, the Marquis of Champions. He wondered if they had ever lost their way in battle, too.
By noon, the scouts began to return to camp. Ovor, using their reports, confirmed that they were to the north of Kohor, northeast of the Darkflow River. However, the scouts brought back troubling news—the Qohorik tribe had not appeared outside Kohor.
This left Monggo with a deep sense of uncertainty. Had they already left Kohor, or had they yet to arrive? Or perhaps the Qohorik tribe had anticipated his plot and turned back to strike at his own forces? For safety, he had only brought six thousand Screaming Warriors, leaving Cosoro with enough strength to fight back.
Anything was possible. All that remained was endless speculation and the agonizing wait.
Constantly reminding himself to remain calm, Monggo knew that he still needed to scout the terrain, for the most critical moments had yet to come.
The waters of the Darkflow River surged forward with great force, sending spray into the air as massive whirlpools formed. Monggo led a group of cavalry along the riverbank, surveying the land. Watching the turbulent waters and the widening river as they traveled south, he thought to himself:
"It seems that if the Qohorik tribe intends to cross, they will have no choice but to use the Darkflow River Bridge."
Upon hearing his musings, Ovor spoke with confidence:
"The Darkflow River Bridge not only connects to the Valyrian Road, but it is also wide enough to allow the Qohorik tribe to pass through quickly. There is no better option."
Monggo had already considered this possibility, but the widening of the river downstream suggested the presence of shallows, making it impossible to guarantee that the Qohorik tribe would choose to cross at the bridge.
By the time they reached the confluence of the Darkflow and Quen Rivers, they had found no shallow water suitable for crossing.
Gazing at the increasingly turbulent Quen River, Monggo was finally certain—the only way to cross was the Darkflow River Bridge.
He led his riders back to the Darkflow River Bridge. As Ovor had said, the land here was flat and open. If the enemy crossed, they could strike midway, with cavalry attacking from the rear, charging from higher ground.
Looking towards the opposite bank, Monggo suddenly felt an urge to explore the western side.
The Darkflow River Bridge was the main trade route for Kohor, but it was not heavily guarded. However, crossing the bridge required paying a toll.
The Dothraki had no money, and the tax officers, jostling each other, dared not stop the riders, allowing them to charge across the bridge. Despite this, the bridge itself was well-constructed.
The western bank was not as open as the eastern one, but the terrain remained similar. It would still be sufficient for six thousand cavalry to launch an attack. The advantage was that the Nothos Hills lay to the distance, providing good cover, but there were pros and cons to both sides, making the choice difficult.
Monggo's heart remained uneasy, as though he had missed something critical. He summoned Ovor and one of the Dothraki Screaming Warriors to his side and asked:
"If you were the Qohorik tribe, how would you cross the river?"
"What do you mean...?" Ovor asked thoughtfully. "How would the Qohorik tribe arrange their crossing formation?"
Monggo's heart suddenly cleared, and he quickly said:
"Yes, would they send the Dothraki Screaming Warriors across first, or allow the common tribes to cross first?"
"The Dothraki Screaming Warriors," they both answered in unison.
Seeing Monggo's gaze upon him, the Dothraki Screaming Warrior responded proudly:
"The Dothraki warriors would go first."
Ovor also gave his answer:
"go"