Chapter 97: The Dothraki

Wright and the two women first made their way toward the riverside, where the crowd had largely refrained from joining the chaos. Boats were vital for survival in this area, and the locals had drawn weapons to protect them, enforcing strict security. The trio moved along the riverbank toward the Shy Maiden. Onboard were valuables such as stored gold and Tyene's alchemical potions.

Wright cast healing spells on both women. His Magicka recovery rate had improved significantly. After the battle in Braavos, he had stabilized to the point where a week of rest could fully replenish his drained reserves. As such, he no longer needed to conserve Magicka in daily life.

Before long, Wright noticed a group of Dothraki men dressed in colorful leather vests and bronze belts. They were engaged in a tense negotiation with Yedari, the captain of the Shy Maiden.

This band of Dothraki, numbering at least twenty, included several mounted individuals keeping watch near the port. Those dismounted and speaking with the captain were anything but friendly, occasionally pressing curved arakhs against his chest. The captain's wife stood nearby, too frightened to intervene.

Though the captain was technically only a hired hand, until they reached Volantis, he was Wright's subordinate. Seeing him bullied by the Dothraki ignited Wright's anger once more, still simmering after the earlier brawl.

"What are you doing?" Wright demanded, his tone sharp. Though he wasn't the type to attack without cause, he wasn't one to suffer insults or threats either.

The Dothraki spoke in their guttural language, which Wright didn't understand. However, their expressions and body language conveyed enough.

The captain, trembling, explained, "Lord Wright, they're asking about your whereabouts and that of the two ladies. I haven't told them anything."

"Take your wife and get back on the ship. Pull up the boarding plank, and don't come back down until I'm finished with them," Wright commanded without drawing his sword.

The captain, surprisingly steadfast, had refused to betray his passengers, earning Wright's respect. This would buy him some time to retreat safely.

Several of the Dothraki ran to their leader, whispering something in his ear. The leader, sporting shoulder-length black braids, turned his attention to Wright. According to Nymeria, the longer a Dothraki's braids, the greater their martial prowess and status. To Wright, all Dothraki looked nearly identical, so he relied on their braids to tell them apart.

The leader shoved the captain aside. The captain and his wife hastily fled back to the ship, forgetting to retract the wooden boarding plank. From the safety of the deck, they stared down in a daze.

The Dothraki leader pointed at Wright, raising his chin arrogantly, and barked out a string of commands in his native tongue.

"What did he say, Captain?" Wright called out.

The captain hesitated but eventually answered, "He said if you hand over your gold and your two wives, he'll let you live."

Though Wright had already suspected their intentions, hearing the demand infuriated him. Not only did they want his wealth, but they dared to insult and threaten his wives. Years of living as a noble had accustomed Wright to respect and reverence—such humiliation was intolerable.

Rage boiled over, and Wright roared, "FUS, RO\~DAH\~\~\~!"

The sheer force of the magical shout caught everyone off guard. The soundwave visibly tore through the air, obliterating the dozen or so Dothraki standing before Wright. Their bodies were reduced to shredded flesh and bone in an instant.

The shockwave plowed through the solid stone of the port, carving a deep trench into the ground. Boats moored in the harbor were caught in its path, shattered into splinters alongside their occupants and cargo. Even the river wasn't spared; the force pressed the water aside, forming a channel over a hundred meters long.

Though the magic dissipated quickly, the devastation it left behind stunned the port's onlookers. Moments later, the displaced river water surged back, filling the gouged-out trench.

The roar echoed across the ruined city of Ny Sar, resonating through its streets and even the sky. The entire settlement froze in the wake of the tremendous sound. Brawlers paused mid-swing, turning to stare in confusion.

"That's High Valyrian!" someone from Volantis identified the language.

"It came from the harbor. Something big must've happened!"

"Let's go check it out!"

Nymeria and Tyene, though momentarily stunned, recovered quickly. They had witnessed Wright's use of large-scale magic before in Braavos. Nymeria pulled a dagger from her clothing and handed it to Tyene, while she herself took her long spear from her back, assembling it with practiced efficiency. Without hesitation, she charged toward the remaining Dothraki.

Spears versus curved blades; even light cavalry found little advantage against her precision.

"Tyene, get to the ship and protect the captain. Watch out for Dothraki archers!" Wright ordered. Tyene's dagger would be of little use against mounted foes.

Drawing the Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister, Wright activated his Flame Cloak spell. Fire erupted across his body, and the blade ignited with gold-and-red flames that outshone even his burning form.

"Ha!" Wright leaped forward with inhuman strength, landing in front of the nearest Dothraki. With a single swing, he cleaved both the rider and his horse in half. The scorching heat of Dark Sister cauterized the wounds instantly, the air filling with the acrid stench of burning flesh.

Wright didn't stop after landing, immediately charging at another mounted warrior. The Dothraki didn't flinch; they had no understanding of what Wright's earlier shout had been, only that their leader's group had vanished. Seeing the fiery figure before them, they launched a coordinated assault, focusing their attacks on Wright. Fire was nothing new to them — every raid had its share of burning enemies.

Furious, Wright ignored the curved blades swung toward him. Instead of dodging, he slashed Dark Sister in retaliation, cleaving through the Dothraki's blade, severing his hand, and then splitting both the man and his horse at the neck.

To the Dothraki, horses were sacred and indispensable — providers of milk, meat, transport, and battle prowess. But Wright had no regard for their value, cutting down both riders and their steeds in his wrath. What use were profits from selling the animals when vengeance was far sweeter?

Four or five Dothraki circled around, aligning themselves in formation for a charge. As Wright dispatched another rider and his horse with a single stroke, he noticed the oncoming group.

"Ha!" Raising his left hand, he unleashed Chain Lightning.

A blinding white flash streaked across the battlefield, accompanied by a deafening crackle of electricity. The bolts struck the group of riders, causing their horses to convulse violently before collapsing to the ground. The riders were thrown from their mounts, only to become new targets for the arcing electricity. Within moments, both men and beasts were fried, their flesh emitting the savory scent of cooked meat.

Seeing a few remaining enemies, Wright charged once more, ending the skirmish with terrifying speed. Blood, entrails, and gore soaked the ground, pooling around the mangled remains of men and horses.

Nymeria, meanwhile, had just thrown her spear to skewer an enemy. Sprinting forward, she retrieved it from the corpse before facing three more mounted Dothraki. Her black braids swayed as she twirled her weapon with ease, her movements fluid and precise.

She quickly adapted to their combat style, observing their techniques and timing her counters. Within moments, she exploited an opening in one rider's attack, driving her spear through his throat. Using the same method, she dispatched the other two with a few swift strikes, their bodies crumpling to the ground as she stood victorious.

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