The night deepened.
Yet within the camp, the glow of the bonfire illuminated everything, the slightly damp wood crackling with explosive sounds.
Monggo, who had made the resolute decision to declare war on the Kohorans, sat upright, listening attentively as his affairs officer, Opher, recounted the military history of Kohor.
When Opher spoke of the 3,000 Unsullied holding their ground beneath the city walls, repelling the Dothraki forces, Monggo, deeply focused, asked with a furrowed brow:
"Did the Unsullied fight of their own volition, or were they forced to march out and face the enemy?"
Opher lowered his head in thought. After a moment of careful consideration, he cautiously replied:
"They were likely compelled to sortie. At the onset of the war, the Kohorans first bolstered their garrison and hired two mercenary companies—the Bright Banner and the Second Sons. They also purchased an additional 3,000 Unsullied. But soon after, the Kohoran garrison was decisively defeated, the mercenaries fled, and the city of Kohor lay in ruins. As night fell, the Dothraki withdrew to their camp, preparing to breach the gates by dawn. Yet come morning, the Unsullied had already formed ranks before the gates…"
"So, Kohor had already been unable to mount any effective defense, and the Unsullied, pressed by necessity, had no choice but to take up arms outside the city, using the walls as their shield?" Before Opher could continue, Monggo interrupted, then sighed deeply. "The Kohorans, though they won in the end thanks to the Unsullied, have suffered terribly at the hands of the Dothraki in the past. I only hope they don't remember history as you do, with such clarity."
At that moment, the figure of Kosoro, his face hidden beneath a thick beard, strode swiftly into the tent, bowed, and spoke:
"Kao, I have already had the messenger, Moreh Hett, imprisoned. As per your orders, at dawn tomorrow, we will remove his limbs in full view of the soldiers, and we will take the opportunity to spread the prophecy among them."
Once Kosoro finished his report, Monggo did not respond immediately. He bowed his head in thought, and none dared disturb him.
The tent fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional crack of the burning wood.
After what seemed like an eternity, Monggo finally raised his head, his expression calm and composed, and said aloud:
"Kosoro, from tomorrow onward, continue to send slaves who can speak low Valyrian to broadcast the prophecy to all the people of Kohor. And tell them this: if they do not open the gates and submit, on the day we breach the city, we will slaughter every last Black Goat believer. Now, dispatch a large patrol force immediately. Starting from the confluence of the Tien and Darkflow Rivers, send patrols upstream to secure the area. We must guard against a Kohoran fleet landing and flanking us."
Suddenly, Monggo's voice faltered, his expression filled with hesitation. The light of the fire danced across his face, shifting from one extreme to another.
The others waited in silence, watching for his decision.
He sat up straight, closed his eyes, and after a moment of contemplation, he resolved with a sharp command:
"Search every village and town around Kohor. Bring back all supplies, livestock, and people."
The Dothraki knew that mercy shown to the enemy was cruelty toward their own.
Monggo inhaled deeply, collecting his thoughts. Rising from his seat, he paced slowly across the tent, his gaze occasionally flicking toward the crude map carved on the wooden board. He paused, placing his finger lightly upon an image resembling a dagger, and asked:
"Opher, is this Dagger Lake, where the Lorne and Tien Rivers converge? A crucial passage for the Kohoran fleet when traveling north or south?"
"Kao, you are correct," Opher confirmed, leaning closer to the map before adding, "Dagger Lake once saw a naval battle, and the Kohoran fleet was the main force involved. Now, river bandits are rampant on the Lorne, with Dagger Lake being especially notorious. Many of the lake's small islands conceal countless caves and secret strongholds, where the brigands have ambushed passing vessels. We might be able to ally with them to strike at the Kohoran fleet."
Monggo nodded in agreement, then shook his head thoughtfully:
"We have no fleet, and the river bandits are sly and treacherous. They will not follow anyone's commands, but we still need to work with them. However, it must be done on our terms. I want you to send word to Dagger Lake, spreading the news that the Kohoran city is under siege by the Dothraki and that their fleet, laden with gold, is preparing to head south for supplies. Let us hope that when the time comes, these river bandits will cause trouble for them."
Opher's eyes brightened. "By using gold to tempt these greedy river bandits to attack the Kohoran fleet, we can prevent them from resupplying and returning to Kohor."
Monggo paid no mind to Opher's comment, continuing his pacing, deep in thought.
Sieging a city was merely a matter of strategy—defend oneself, cut off supplies, and wait for the enemy to tire. But Monggo knew that the Dothraki, though fierce in open battle, lacked the resources and time to lay siege for long. A more direct approach was inevitable.
After a moment, he spoke again:
"Opher, our craftsmen should be capable of constructing siege ladders and large, hide-covered shields to protect from arrows?"
The Dothraki may not have a rich tradition of construction or engineering, but they had basic craftsmanship.
Without hesitation, Opher replied, "Kao, that is no problem. We can source materials from the Kohor Forest and create simple siege devices."
At this, Monggo nodded with satisfaction and continued:
"Then you will oversee the creation of the siege weapons. Also, I want you to account for all the male slaves in the camp and inform them that I am offering them all a chance—a chance to escape their bondage."
Having laid out all the plans he could think of, Monggo watched as the others departed to carry out their orders.
The breeze stirred the flames, casting flickering shadows. Alone in the tent, Monggo's mind churned with thoughts, as the firelight reflected off his face.
The greatest weapon of the nomadic tribes was their cavalry—highly mobile and undefeated in open field combat. Yet against fortified cities, they were often at a loss.
Even elite infantry, equipped with proper siege equipment, often paid a heavy price in assaulting city walls. What more then, the Dothraki—light cavalry with no armor, and no siege equipment to speak of?
In truth, before meeting with the Kohoran emissary Moreh Hett, Monggo had no intentions of attacking Kohor directly. If the enemy had dared send out the Unsullied to fight in the open, he would have gladly given them a painful lesson. Should they remain behind their walls, he had only intended to raid, plunder, and intimidate, securing enough spoils before retreating back to the Dothraki Sea.
Before uniting the Dothraki, there was no need to rush for what he truly wanted from Kohor.
But Moreh Hett's arrival and the prophecy he spoke had given the Dothraki a unique opportunity: no fortress could withstand an attack from within.
No more hesitation. If the heavens offer an opportunity, to turn away is to invite disaster.