Chapter 126: Sweeping Through Thousands of Troops

East Coast of Slave Bay, the camp of the Anti-Dragon Mother Alliance stretched for over ten miles. Despite the chaotic mix of mercenaries, slaves, merchants, and prostitutes within the camp, the alliance forces did not lack basic military discipline.

Around the perimeter, watchtowers two stories high stood every 100 meters, extending up to 500 meters beyond the camp. Each tower was manned by two to three sentries, equipped with either bronze gongs or signal horns to sound alarms in case of enemy activity.

Dany's 2,600 cavalry left the camp from behind White Poplar Hill, marching two kilometers east before veering north for another three kilometers under the cover of dense forests and tall grasses. As the dim morning light crept over the horizon, they slowly crept westward towards the enemy encampment.

They weren't launching a direct assault on the enemy camp. If Dany had acted solely on her instincts, she would have charged straight down the hill into the enemy lines. However, seasoned veterans advised her otherwise. Despite the apparent disorder within the camp, it was fortified with mercenaries skilled in chaotic skirmishes and open-field battles.

Moreover, layers of barricades and trenches surely surrounded the camp. A direct charge would mean confronting heavily fortified defensive circles, resembling small fortresses within the larger camp. While the sprawling camp seemed disorganized, each mercenary company's section was tightly secured.

Even commanders seeking companionship had to step outside their secure zones. The robust defenses provided a sense of security, and the well-structured mercenary units could maintain order even during nighttime disturbances, avoiding the dreaded "camp panic" common in ancient armies.

Thus, Dany decided to flank the enemy, targeting their vulnerable "soft waist" instead of their fortified "iron head."

A gentle breeze rustled the branches above, filling Dany's ears with faint whispers. The eastern sky brightened with pale light, and the overhead darkness faded from deep indigo to a dull gray.

Like her soldiers, Dany crouched in the tall grass, holding her horse's reins. Her small silver horse gnawed silently on a wooden walnut, unable to neigh but restless, pawing at the leaf-covered ground.

Insects buzzed nearby, mingling with the hushed breaths of anxious soldiers. The faint clinks of shifting armor and the soft scrape of weapons betrayed the tension in the ranks.

"Gods, I'm about to lead a charge. Is this real? Should I post about it to ease the nerves? Maybe a live stream would get me tons of followers," Dany mused, her mind wandering amidst the tension.

Whoosh!

A massive shadow swept over them—it was Drogon.

His flight signaled that the forward outposts had been cleared by Aggo and his team of horsemen.

Dany rose immediately, leading her horse forward through the grass. Without needing orders, the rest of the cavalry followed suit, emboldened by the sight of the dragon above.

They had all walked their horses for the five-kilometer journey to conserve strength.

Thwip!

"Aaargh!" A sentry on a watchtower cried out, clutching the arrow lodged in his chest.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Another guard didn't bother checking on his fallen comrade. He quickly crouched behind a wooden post, frantically beating a bronze gong to sound the alarm.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" The shrill cries, mixed with the gong's clangor, echoed into the camp.

Rumble!

At 200 meters from the camp, Aggo's squad finally missed their mark. It wasn't surprising—the sky had turned a pale gray, with the first golden rays of the rising sun piercing the horizon.

To stay hidden, they had kept their distance, but this resulted in a missed shot that failed to silence all the sentries simultaneously.

"Mount up!"

Veteran Barristan sprang onto his horse with practiced ease. The cavalry abandoned stealth, bursting from the shadows like a dark wave, slicing towards the enemy camp.

"Enemy attack!" Panic-stricken voices rose from the camp, the fear palpable even from where Dany rode.

"Hold steady! Maintain speed! No reckless charges!" Scarback Simon bellowed at his riders.

Dany smirked.

That voice surely reached the enemy camp. She remembered the White Knight mentioning Simon's appointment wasn't just for his loyalty and stubbornness but also for his naturally loud voice—a rare, invaluable trait in battle. His combat skills were mediocre, but those could be trained. A booming voice? That was a gift.

Wooooo!

As they neared the wooden palisades, the enemy camp erupted with blaring horns. The first light of dawn spilled across the battlefield as slave masters, barely asleep, were jolted awake from their restless dreams.

"The True Dragon is with us!" Dany shouted, pulling her small silver horse to a halt, raising her sword high as her battle cry echoed over the chaos.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" Thousands of knights drew their swords or scimitars in unison, shouting together:

"Long live the Mother of Dragons! Long live the True Dragon! Long live Freedom!"

"Blackie!" At Daenerys' command, the black dragon swooped down, skimming just above the cavalry's heads and stopping in front of the barricade.

"Boom—!" It was as if a bundle of homemade grenades had exploded. The crude wooden stakes, sparking with flames, were instantly blown away.

"Neighhh—"

"Mooo—"

Inside the barricade was not a soldier's camp but a massive stable stretching over half a kilometer. Warhorses, draft horses for carriages, cattle awaiting slaughter, and oxen pulling carts were all enclosed within.

The flames only reached a few horses near the fence, but Daenerys' true weapon was dragon fear!

"Screeech—Boom—" Blackie landed on the ground, standing at the breach in the fence, unleashing dragonfire without restraint. The overwhelming presence of the dragon was fully displayed.

"Screeech—"

A white dragon beat its wide wings, gliding low over the panicked herd, spreading uncontrollable terror among the animals.

"The warhorses are out of control! Aah—" The stable hands inside the camp screamed in terror.

"Boom—" A towering black stallion rammed into one of them, sending him flying. His wail barely started before it was abruptly cut short.

"Neighhh! Snort! Thud! Thud! Thud!"

The terrified neighing of the horses was soon drowned out by the thunderous sound of galloping hooves. The stable hand was reduced to nothing more than a bloody pulp.

The slaughter had only begun. As the panicked horses tried to leap over the barricades and flee into the open fields, Blackie swooped low along the camp's perimeter, driving them back inside once more.

Outside the camp, Blackie controlled the direction of the rampaging herd, while inside, Ser Barristan and his knights galloped behind, driving the chaos forward.

From north to south, they swept through the enemy camp, reaping lives like a scythe through wheat.

Slaves bound in shackles, masters emerging from lavish tents, naked prostitutes and mercenaries scrambling in chaos, merchants and soldiers barking orders—some fled in terror, others cursed and rallied their troops, and some fell to their knees, pleading for mercy.

But to the frenzied warhorses, there was no distinction, no mercy, no reason. Slaves and masters, mercenaries and prostitutes alike were trampled under iron hooves, crushed into the dirt.

As one stable after another was overrun, more and more horses joined the madness, until the stampede became an unstoppable force of destruction—tens of thousands of beasts forming a living tidal wave that tore through half the camp.

And this was only the beginning.

Behind the raging herd came the true reapers—knights sweeping through like a fine-toothed steel comb, finishing off whatever remained.

Anyone wearing a Togar robe—killed.

Anyone holding a weapon, whether mercenary or slave—killed.

Anyone dressed in luxurious black and red, with long, straight hair—killed.

Only women and those shackled in chains were spared.

If they came across a tent flying a peace banner—mostly belonging to merchants who had wisely marked themselves upon entering the battlefield—horsemen would round them up, tying them together with ropes.

Of course, not every tent was destroyed. Some mercenary bands had fortified their camps with wooden barricades, and the clever ones had even covered them with burning blankets and tent cloth to deter the horses.

The camp was vast, and luck played a role—some tents simply escaped the stampede's wrath.

That was when Daenerys arrived with her dragons.

Blackie "herded sheep" along the enemy camp's perimeter—a precise, high-skill task only he, bound to Daenerys through dragonbond, could perform. Meanwhile, White and Green temporarily acted as ground troops, protected by a squad of armored knights, using dragonfire to eliminate pockets of resistance.

"You treacherous liar! We agreed to face each other in battle this afternoon! You even swore on the name of your Targaryen ancestors! This is disgraceful!"

In front of a grand golden yurt, a disheveled Great Master stood behind a high barricade, cursing Daenerys in rage and sorrow.

By now, the sun had fully risen. The stampede had already passed through the Ghiscari army's camp, carving a massive arc around the eastern side of Poplar Hill—where Green Dragon still remained at the center of the Unsullied formations, keeping the horses at bay.

Ser Barristan led two thousand knights rampaging through the camp, cutting down scattered enemies, while a hundred Dothraki warriors managed the prisoners.

Daenerys, meanwhile, led five hundred knights and White Dragon to assault the smaller fortresses.

She had already conquered over a dozen encampments, capturing three mercenary captains and three Great Masters.

Now, she faced the fourth.

Strong Belwas and Aggo stood beside her, each holding a massive iron-reinforced wooden shield the size of a door. Daenerys, riding her silver mare, laughed from behind them.

"Great Master, what exactly did my challenge letter say yesterday?"

Before he could respond, she answered herself in a loud, clear voice:

"I swear upon my ancestors that I challenge you to battle under the sun's witness. Now, look up at the sky—it's nearly midday!"

"But...!"

The short, fat Great Master with his wing-shaped hairstyle widened his eyes in disbelief. He wanted to shout that just last night, she had all but explicitly told every mercenary captain that the battle would begin in the afternoon. She had even given them until noon to decide whether to switch sides.

But Daenerys wasn't wrong either.

Yesterday afternoon, before the Ghiscari army had even finished setting up camp, they had already received her challenge. The letter had promised she wouldn't attack before they were settled and had sworn to fight under the sun's witness—but never specified that the battle would begin in the afternoon.

MMP!

You have dragons, Unsullied, and enough strength to fight head-on—how can you still be this cunning?!

(End of chapter)

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