the return of the monster

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-Pov of Lothar von Ruppin first moon 289 AC

The ship docked in Myr, and from a distance, one could already see the order expected of a city under Prussian rule. From the deck, I observed the port—no fires, no signs of chaos, which might have been expected since the city had been conquered not long ago. I hadn't taken the time to pacify it before leaving, but fortunately, all I saw was constant, peaceful activity—men unloading goods, fishermen selling their catch, merchants haggling over prices. At first glance, everything seemed... normal.

I disembarked, where a small group of my men awaited me, each clad in immaculate armor. A few meters away, a man dressed in the same dark uniform as my forces stood at attention.

"Welcome back to Myr, my lord."

"Report," I said without hesitation, my eyes scanning the city.

"The situation is stable. There have been no attempts at rebellion, the population continues its daily routine, and the markets operate without interruption. Most of the magisters have been eliminated or have fled. The few who remain are under strict surveillance. Antti says it won't be an issue for your plans," the knight reported.

"I suppose he had his reasons for purging the upper classes of the cities we govern. I assume they weren't trustworthy, and Antti decided to use the knife before they could stab him first," I said, uninterested.

"Indeed, my lord. The Finns discovered that many magisters were exchanging correspondence with Volantis. We don't know much about what was happening since Antti preferred to cut the problem at its root rather than watch it unfold. Many were eliminated in a coordinated attack by all Finnish operatives on the same day, practically wiping out the magister class," the knight added.

"And the people?" I asked as we walked through the stone-paved streets.

"No issues. They have food, work, and entertainment. They're too busy living their lives to cause trouble with our rule. In fact, they've accepted it quite well—thanks to the confiscated gold from the magisters, Antti gave them significant tax reductions," the knight explained, leading me through the pathways.

In the plaza, the markets were in full swing. I watched as a farmer gestured heatedly, arguing over the price of vegetables with a merchant. I wondered why he wasted so much time on something so trivial when he had the coins in hand.

"The taxes?" I inquired.

"As I said, they're being collected as expected. With the reductions, we expect to be in the red, but that's covered by the magisters' gold. The system was adjusted to match the people's ability to pay without affecting production."

That was enough. I didn't need to know more. As long as the numbers added up and the soldiers got their pay, it meant everything was working as it should.

"And Antti?"

"He's in the governor's tower. He's been handling matters, but this one is too important for him to deal with alone," the knight concluded, quickening his pace.

I followed him through Myr's streets, paying close attention to the details around me. The city was alive, active, showing no signs of decay or despair—a good sign of stability. It didn't matter what had happened in the high halls of the magisters or how many daggers had been necessary to establish this order. The only thing that mattered was that Myr was functioning—and from what I saw, it was functioning well.

The sun cast its glow over the marble and slate rooftops, illuminating the canals where boatmen rowed efficiently. People talked, traded, worked. There were no furtive glances, no whispers of conspiracy, none of that oppressive air that usually lingered over newly conquered cities.

"Bread and entertainment," I thought to myself. "As long as the people have that, they need nothing more."

But high above the city, in the governor's tower, a different reality awaited.

We crossed the grand avenue leading to the structure. In stark contrast to the market's activity, the atmosphere here was different—quieter streets, closed doors, watchful men stationed on balconies and street corners.

The Finns.

They carried no banners, made no grand gestures to proclaim their authority. But they were there, clad in their dark garments, moving silently, their presence casting a long shadow over the city.

The knight stopped before the great doors of the tower.

"Antti awaits you inside, my lord."

I nodded and entered without a word.

The tower's interior was austere, functional. No unnecessary luxuries, none of the ornaments favored by the former magisters. Just stone, maps, and records arranged with Prussian precision.

At the far end, seated behind a table cluttered with documents, was Antti.

He didn't rise when he saw me, nor did he offer any gesture of welcome. He merely inclined his head slightly, an acknowledgment between equals.

"Antti," I greeted calmly.

"Lothar," he responded with the same composed tone.

"I've been informed that the city is stable," I remarked, glancing over the documents on his desk.

"As stable as a city full of people who didn't deserve to live can be," he replied coldly. "But we've taken care of that."

"I heard you dealt with the magisters swiftly," I noted, picking up a parchment and scanning it briefly.

"They were taking too long to betray us," he said emotionlessly. "I wasn't going to waste time watching them weave their own noose. So, I cut the rope before they could throw it over our necks." He mimed a throat-slitting gesture with his fingers.

"I was told there's a serious issue requiring my attention," I said, crossing my arms as I observed Antti.

"Then you were misinformed," he replied icily. "There are two issues, one worse than the other. At least one could have been avoided if you hadn't left like an idiot for Westeros, bringing all the Valyrian steel with you, trying to earn the king's pardon… And to top it off, you return empty-handed, without any royal forgiveness. So I suppose your journey was a complete failure… A waste of time and, worst of all, good steel." He spat the last words with a mix of contempt and resignation.

"Don't even try to defend yourself, Lothar," Antti said harshly, his arms crossed firmly. "You know it was foolish. And luckily, you didn't come back in chains. But now there's no time for regrets. The city is stable, but the damn Dothraki have ravaged everything outside the walls. I've had to deal with hundreds of thousands of refugees fleeing from the horde."

"You couldn't stop them?" I asked, surprised.

Antti scoffed, his voice thick with frustration. "How the hell do you expect me to stop three hundred thousand Dothraki, Lothar? Three hundred thousand! And we had barely fifty thousand men defending Myr." He paused, looking at me with disbelief before continuing. "The defenses we built in the hills were obliterated. Chaos erupted when the refugees tried to reach the safety of the walls. Luckily, the Dothraki don't know how to lay siege, or we wouldn't be here talking. As soon as they reached the walls, they demanded we open the gates, and when we refused, they tried to storm the city. But within minutes, they lost thousands of their riders and retreated. Not before burning everything in their path from Myr to the Rhoyne. Everything is in ashes—nothing but ruins remain."

I remained silent, processing the information."Why so many Dothraki?" I asked, incredulous.

Antti let out an impatient snort. "One of the prisoners we captured confessed before he died. According to him, the doshkaleen have proclaimed that from the blood that kills the false khal, the stallion who will mount the world will be born. And that was enough to rally almost every Dothraki horde in the region here."

I ran a hand over my forehead. "So this won't stop here."

"Exactly." Antti nodded grimly. "If they truly believe in that prophecy, they'll return next year. And there will be even more of them."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

The Dothraki never stopped. If their faith drove them to come again and again, the only solution was to do something definitive before the next wave.

"We can start recruiting again—there are more hands than ever in the cities, and most importantly, there's hatred for the horse lords. Plenty of people will want revenge. Crossbows in every hand and begin construction of new fortifications in the hills, or directly on the Rhoyne. Mobilize a large part of the available population. This time, let them face a real fortress, and if they want me, well… I'll be waiting for them behind the walls, where they'll have to climb and bleed for it." I spoke calmly, watching Antti's expression.

"I was thinking the same thing. Going after the Dothraki is suicide—we don't have the horses to challenge them in open field combat, and if they use hit-and-run tactics, we'd be in trouble… but if that were the only issue, I wouldn't be this pissed off." Antti said, rummaging through a pile of papers with growing irritation.

"What's the problem now?" I asked, crossing my arms as I watched him.

"How the hell do I explain this…" Antti muttered, rubbing his forehead in clear frustration. "Volantis sent us a message demanding repayment for the debts incurred by Myr and Lys. Apparently, the city's former rulers took out numerous loans to hire mercenaries and Unsullied, borrowing from various Volantis banks—even from the city itself. The amount is enormous… but I have no record proving what they claim is true."

He paused for a moment, letting me process the information before continuing.

"That makes me think either the magisters hid the gold somewhere, or Volantis is simply extorting us. It's no secret they want to rebuild the Valyrian Empire. It could also be a way to force us into re-legalizing slavery, which we outlawed not long ago… or simply a casus belli." His voice turned colder.

"We're not in a position to fight a war on two fronts. Either we stop the Dothraki, or we put Volantis in check by fortifying their borders and mobilizing troops to make them think twice before attacking." Antti said dryly, slamming the papers down on the table.

"A nearly unsolvable problem, but you're missing the most important part of the solution," I replied, a smile forming on my lips—one that my lieutenant didn't miss.

Antti narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What? What did you bring? My brothers told me you returned empty-handed." His tone held doubt and frustration.

"Oh no, I came back with something far more valuable…" I leaned over the table, savoring the anticipation in his gaze for a moment. "The king said that if necessary, he will declare any war I fight a crusade, offering pardon to anyone who joins it." My smile widened. "Soldiers, money, weapons—everything we need for war. So the journey wasn't so useless after all."

Antti placed both hands on the table and let out a dry chuckle. "Well played, Lothar. If the king declares a crusade, we'll have thousands of knights—the Teutonic knights, and possibly even some Tercios from Prussia. Thousands of recruits seeking redemption, gold, and glory." He paused, as if already calculating the next moves in his mind. "If we can get Volantis to attack first, we can ensure the war happens on our terms."

I crossed my arms. "Then we need to provoke Volantis into striking without letting them decide when it's best for them."

Antti nodded. "I'll order our fleet to start attacking Volantis' merchant ships under pirate flags. Make it obvious that we're giving them safe harbor in our ports. That will force the Triarchs to intervene." His tone carried an unwavering certainty. "When they do, the king will declare the crusade, and by the time Volantis realizes what's happening, it'll be too late. The hammer will have already fallen on their heads."

I leaned on the table and let out a slow breath. "And once Volantis is crushed on the battlefield, we can move those same troops to the Dothraki front. There will be no rest, but if war is inevitable, we might as well fight it with an advantage."

Antti looked at me seriously, then nodded. "Then we start today."

Without wasting time, Antti began issuing orders. Within hours, our ships would be sailing under black flags, raiding Volantis' trade routes, bleeding their economy dry, forcing them to respond.

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Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

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I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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