[Chapter Size: 4300 Words.]

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Third Person POV

North, 281 AC.

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A moon had passed as the Artican ships cut through the sea to the north of the known world. The Trembling Sea was much colder than the southern seas, though there was nothing frozen like the waters of the Northern Coast beyond the Wall.

Jon knew this place harbored a great number of Krakens, according to Serume, through the memories he had shared with Jon. Moreover, there was an immense area made of ice that covered the entire north of the known world.

The fleet’s military campaign had gone mostly smoothly, despite facing a few storms and losing three ships. However, no lives were lost, as Jon managed to control his Kraken, which used its tentacles to rescue anyone who fell into the water. They sailed efficiently, without stopping at any point, until they finally neared their objective, identifying Morosh as they passed and approaching the coast near the region of Ifequevron.

Ifequevron was a kingdom with a vast forest north of Vaes Dothrak. Since it would be difficult to traverse such a forest with an army, they planned to use the desert region to advance through the Dothrak Sea beside it, where there was an entrance to a great canal.

Jon was in his cabin, as usual, reading a book while his wife was bathing. When his queen finished, she put on a robe and approached the Artican king.

“What are you reading?” Seryna’s voice carried curiosity as she looked at him with interest.

Jon lifted his eyes, seeing his wife approach.

“A book from the vault we took from Valyria,” Jon replied calmly.

“Important?” she asked, and Jon shook his head.

“Just some ideas from thinkers of their time who were quite racist toward all other peoples of the world, claiming that everyone should bow to the people of Valyria. But it’s just reading to pass the time,” Jon answered, not giving it much importance.

Seryna smiled, taking the book from his hands and setting it aside, while Jon raised an eyebrow at her action.

“Come to bed with me,” she said, touching his shoulders, seducing him.

Jon looked at her calmly and smiled.

“You just took a bath. There isn’t a single moment we’re alone during the day that you don’t want to…” Jon remarked.

Seryna chuckled softly, sliding her arms around his neck.

“I spent two years without you. Any wife would want to enjoy her husband after such a long journey. I want to make up for that time. Besides, I took a bath to smell good for you.”

She began removing the dress she had put on after her bath in front of him, standing naked and moving closer to Jon while he was still seated.

Jon slid his fingers over her skin and kissed her below her breasts.

“Certainly fragrant,” he commented.

“Let’s go to bed, my love,” she said, touching his face.

Jon took her by the waist, lifting her easily, despite her being a shrunken giant, and carried her to the bed, kissing her neck before looking at her, as she pleaded for her husband’s warmth.

“You haven’t been using anything to prevent pregnancy these past two weeks… And you haven’t mentioned it,” Jon questioned before continuing.

Seryna only smiled, her eyes shining, and she didn’t seem offended by her husband’s question.

“I’m ready to give you another child. I am the only queen who has not yet conceived at this moment.”

Jon sighed, touching her belly.

“We are going to war, Seryna. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“A war that, before my pregnancy even becomes a burden, we will have already won and returned home. Or, even if we’re already in Artica with our family, it wouldn’t change anything, would it?”

Jon remained silent for a moment before accepting her desire. He took her bare body and brought her to bed, spending that afternoon with his queen.

Night fell, and Jon remained by Seryna’s side, accepting the idea of giving Loki a sibling in that very room.

The next day, he finally left his room, heading out to speak with his men. Despite the dawn being still recent, everyone was already working and preparing for the arrival at the coast, which was finally in sight for all.

The captain approached him, accompanied by a few royal guards.

“My king, I see you are already awake. As you can see, we have finally arrived,” he said.

Jon nodded, gazing at the horizon. Solid ground lay before them as they entered a vast canal along the coast.

“Prepare to dock. The entire fleet must disembark on the shore once we reach the end of this canal.”

As usual, Jon’s ship led the entire fleet, and behind him, the sea was filled with over six hundred ships.

Most were large carracks, even though this was a military campaign and not a commercial one. Since warships were limited, the carracks were used to carry resources and animals. They brought a great number of Artican horses, bred in Artica after their purchase in the plains nearly four years ago. The initial number of horses had been around twenty-five thousand, though most were now their offspring, thanks to Jon stimulating their production through his alchemy.

Jon looked at the captain with a slight smile.

“How are the men adapting to the world outside of Artica?”

“My king, they are certainly quite astonished,” the captain replied.

After all, most of the army that had come with them had never left Artica before. It was certainly a unique experience. Soon, they saw a desert that strongly contrasted with the frozen lands surrounding their kingdom.

“Well, let’s talk to them as soon as we begin docking,” Jon said as the ships continued to advance.

There were some fishing villages around the canal and even a few small towns. Naturally, the locals began to flee at the sight of the massive fleet advancing through those waters with such a vast number of ships.

It was not Jon’s intention to scare them, but there was nothing he could do about it. Either way, he needed to stop at this location, as it was the closest point to prepare before advancing toward Dothraki territory. Besides, this reaction would happen anywhere along the coast of Essos.

Perhaps, in a few weeks, he would already be in Vaes Dothrak. According to reports, Khal Drogo was there, gathering men and increasing his khalasar. Jon would certainly resolve his matters quickly so he could return home rather than searching for Drogo across the Dothraki Sea.

Seryna followed shortly behind Jon after leaving her room, stopping at the edge of the ship while admiring the view with him. She wore armor like the king, holding her hammer, accompanied by royal guards responsible for her safety.

“So this is Essos… Looks drier than Dorne,” she murmured, observing the brown landscape.

It wasn’t exactly a sea of dunes and sand like Dorne. The terrain was dry and cracked, with some rocky plains and even forests near lakes and rivers. There were certainly many villages scattered across the land. Jon wondered how people still managed to live there, considering the Dothraki had plagued them constantly over the centuries and millennia.

Regardless, they watched as the first ship anchored on the southern coast of the canal four hours after entering it, while more vessels approached and began filling the sides around it, ignoring the local villages.

The captain approached Jon.

“My king, we can take advantage of the high tide to unload the men, but we will certainly need to get the ships back into the sea as soon as we finish.”

Jon nodded.

“That’s fine. We’ll just remove all necessary resources and equipment. After that, we will continue our journey while part of the army remains on the ships.”

“How many men should we leave behind to guard the fleet, my king?” one of the royal guards asked.

“About five thousand will be enough,” Jon replied.

Although the number seemed small compared to the size of the fleet, they had the sea on their side. They could launch quick attacks from a distance with wildfire, leaving behind a thousand giants. However, Jon did not want to use that tactic while advancing through the Dothraki desert. He preferred a more direct combat approach, where his men could learn and demonstrate their fighting skills.

Jon began to leave the ship while his soldiers prepared an initial camp. The men started unloading the resources they would use during the journey. He looked at Ghost, who did not seem happy at all in this arid environment.

“You wanted to come. I warned you,” Jon teased the wolf, who let out a small whimper in response. He didn’t want to abandon his master, even if he hated the desert.

The camp was quickly being set up. The giants disembarked from the ships, carrying the heaviest loads, while the soldiers pitched the tents and organized the supplies. Some ships couldn’t reach the shore, so they either sent small boats or switched positions with already unloaded ships.

The desert was a difficult environment for his people, who were accustomed to the cold. He knew this adaptation wouldn’t be easy. He could see the discomfort in the Articans’ eyes, but they would have to endure it.

The camp was established for them to stay the night there, and the men were free to rest on land for the remainder of the afternoon, carrying out only their essential duties. Jon simply helped oversee everything while the ships returned to the sea to avoid getting stranded by the tide.

When night fell, Jon left his tent, where he had been with his wife, and made his way to the command tent. There, he would begin a meeting with his commanders. A detailed model of the region had been assembled, similar to the one he had created in Artica over the past few months.

His men greeted him, bowing their heads in respect as he took his position before the strategy table, observing the model. It marked troop positions and the final objective of the campaign.

“How are the men?” Jon asked.

“Uncomfortable, my king,” replied one of the commanders of the Articarians (Legion), a subdivision of the army consisting of 500 men, designed for quicker decision-making in the midst of war.

“But there is nothing to worry about, my king. The Articans are tough and strong. We will not be intimidated by a simple desert,” another commander added.

“I’m sure of that, commander,” Jon responded, turning back to the map. “They will adapt in the coming days. Regardless, we need to determine the best route to reach our destination. But I doubt we can trust these incomplete maps.”

The maps did not provide many detailed insights into the region. However, Jon had an advantage. He had his eagles in the sky, which he had brought once again, and they were already accustomed to flying over any territory. They would map the entire area by soaring over the desert.

“As we march, I will choose the best path. It won’t be now, but I also want our warg scouts to explore the entire region,” he continued. “There are at least seven villages and small towns nearby. Many of the inhabitants have already seen us, and word will surely spread through the desert.”

Jon knew that many villages had been abandoned after spotting the fleet on the coast. Seeing so many ships could have been interpreted as a pirate raid or an invasion, which frightened the people. Many had fled with their families and warned the neighboring villages.

The commanders and officers continued their discussion with the king, focusing on the security of the march, logistics, and the resources they would carry. They had brought some pack animals to aid in transportation. The scouts were already positioning themselves around the 40,000 men who would march south.

All the Artican warriors were strategically positioned and ready to act when the time came, forming a formidable defense against any group in the desert. Not to mention that nothing could get near them without their knowledge—they could see for hundreds of kilometers in every direction.

“Alright, we will stay here for two days,” Jon announced. “I want the men to get used to the climate before we start advancing. During this time, we will adjust our strategies and finalize the supply organization.”

He then left the tent, giving the commanders time to coordinate their orders.

And two days later, the preparation time had come to an end and had been well spent.

On the day before the march, Jon took a piece of paper and began drawing.

Seryna, who had been watching from the side, approached and asked curiously, “What are you drawing?”

Jon remained focused but answered, “Our banner.”

Seryna leaned in a little closer, observing the figure he was drawing. Jon was sketching a frost flame, the symbol of Artica. He then walked over to the desert eagle he had taken for himself in recent days and tied the paper to its talons.

Jon watched as the eagle flew out of the tent, soaring into the sky.

“A little message for our enemies… while also leaving them confused,” Jon said with an amused tone.

That same day, everything was prepared, and they finally began organizing the march.

Jon rode atop his wolf, Ghost, who wore no armor due to the extreme heat—something that was already bothering him greatly. The wolf would only wear his protection when they entered battle.

The march quickly fell into formation as soon as the camp was dismantled. Thousands of giants, dwarves, and the numerous Artican soldiers advanced through the arid and unfamiliar terrain.

And so it went for a week.

Meanwhile, elsewhere…

Khal Mudak was near the northern coastal region, having just conquered a city with a little over two thousand inhabitants. His khalasar of eight thousand warriors dominated the area without resistance, given the power he possessed.

He observed a trembling man before him.

“You are saying you came to seek safety in this city?” Khal Mudak asked, his voice filled with suspicion as he spoke in the Dothraki tongue. “You claim you fled from an army coming from the poisoned water?” he said, referring to the sea by the name the Dothraki used, since their horses could not drink its water.

The man swallowed hard before responding.

“Yes, I swear! We left our village over a week ago because of the arrival of many ships! We thought we would die, so we fled south.”

The man trembled as he glanced at a young girl crying near some Dothraki. He knew what they had done to her. For two days, his daughter had been violated.

Her father only wanted to free her from those animals. They had fled the northern coast in search of shelter, but now they were trapped in a different kind of nightmare. He didn’t know which was worse.

While nearly all the men in the city had been killed, and some women had already been murdered—none spared from abuse—his daughter remained there, vulnerable.

Khal Mudak crossed his arms, his gaze sharp.

“How many were there?” he asked, his tone dangerous.

“I… I don’t know how many, but there were hundreds of ships! I had never seen anything like it before. I have never even seen their banners,” the man confessed, still trembling.

Khal Mudak smiled, finding the information intriguing.

“You think they can defeat us?” he asked, his expression filled with arrogance. He wanted to become one of the greatest Khals in history, and defeating an army that came from the ‘poisoned water’ could elevate his fame even further.

The man hesitated before answering.

“I believe so… there were many ships…”

The atmosphere grew heavy at his words, and the man realized he had made a fatal mistake.

“Kill him,” Khal Mudak ordered coldly. He did not like what he had heard.

“No! Please! You said you would free my daughter if I gave you this information!” the man begged desperately.

But his cries were in vain. The Dothraki seized him forcefully. Within seconds, an arakh blade sliced through his neck before he could react. His daughter watched everything, horrified.

“Do whatever you want with her,” Khal Mudak said indifferently. “I don’t even care if you give her to the horses.”

The girl screamed in despair but was silenced by punches before being dragged to her cruel fate, once again subjected to abuse.

Dothraki culture was at its most savage there—killing, looting, and raping, spreading terror through the villages and cities of Essos.

One of the bloodriders approached Khal Mudak.

“What do we do now, Khal?”

Mudak looked at the city before him, void of any emotion.

“We finish this place. Then, we head north,” he replied. “I want to see this group for myself. Maybe we will gain fame by defeating enemies from the desert of water.”

His warriors shouted in approval.

The next day, the khalasar left the city, now taking even more slaves than before. They continued advancing north until they reached a region of hills.

Ahead of them, there was a large camp.

The scouts returned quickly, informing Khal Mudak about the enemy’s strength.

“Five thousand men,” one of them said.

Mudak nodded in satisfaction. The number didn’t seem too threatening.

“That man truly disrespected me and mocked me,” Khal Mudak murmured, wishing he could kill the man a second time. It was a shame, at least for Mudak, that his daughter had also died the day before, unable to survive the abuses.

His gaze turned predatory. He had already decided what he would do next.

“Let’s get ready and wipe out this group,” Khal Mudak said as his warriors quickly organized themselves for battle.

Meanwhile, the Articans were already prepared. In addition to spotting the Dothraki scouts, their archers knew exactly where the enemies were. They had set a trap, arming themselves with shields, swords, and spears while mounting their horses in that camp—which was only a fraction of the true army hidden on the other side of the hill.

Soon, the sound of screams and hooves echoed across the desert. A massive cloud of dust rose on the horizon as a group of eight thousand Dothraki charged furiously, shouting and brandishing their arakhs and other weapons.

They advanced quickly toward the enemy, while five thousand men waited for their arrival in front of the hill.

In the sky, several birds circled, watching the Dothraki’s movements.

“I’ll leave command of the archers to you,” Jon said to one of his royal guards behind the hill.

“Yes, my king. It will be done,” the guard responded, nodding as he waited for Jon’s order to attack.

Jon then mounted Ghost and advanced toward the hill, leaving behind the massive army of thirty-five thousand men concealed beyond it. They had been there for two days, waiting for the moment when the Dothraki would come looking for them. After all, it was the perfect place to hide a large portion of the army.

He knew that if that Dothraki khalasar saw the full extent of his army immediately, they might get scared and flee. And Jon didn’t want that. He wanted to face them directly and end them right there.

He had already investigated the city the Dothraki had raided and, despite speaking their language, had no sympathy for their barbaric culture after witnessing their atrocities firsthand.

Jon kept advancing, crossing the hill until he reached the camp where the five thousand men were waiting. Ghost wore his armor, prepared for battle. Beside him, Seryna rode with her armor on, her hammer resting on her shoulder.

The Dothraki, especially Khal Mudak, were stunned upon seeing the reflection of the five thousand well-positioned warriors’ armor gleaming under the sun. But something even more unsettling left them apprehensive—a massive white creature, partially covered in metal, standing at the forefront of them all.

For a moment, they wondered what it was.

Who was riding it?

Seryna looked at Jon, concern on her face.

“You could get hurt doing this,” she said.

Jon gave a confident smile.

“Leave it to me. Let’s see how they handle this.”

He looked at the enemy army and stroked Ghost’s armor.

“Why don’t we go greet them, buddy?”

The giant wolf took a few steps forward before lifting his head and letting out a monstrous howl.

The sound echoed across the entire desert, loud enough to be heard for miles.

The Dothraki widened their eyes, stunned.

“What kind of creature is that?” they murmured among themselves.

Even from a distance, they could feel the power behind that howl. They had never seen a wolf that large, nor heard a howl so mighty.

But despite the shock, the Dothraki didn’t stop. They continued charging.

Now, they were only eight hundred meters away.

Jon guided Ghost forward a few more meters.

He waited until the enemies were five hundred meters from the hill.

That was the exact distance he wanted.

His eyes began to glow an intense green. The decisive moment had arrived.

The Dothraki charged forward with war cries, certain they would claim an easy victory against this group, despite the strange creature standing at the front of the army. Everything seemed set… until they were suddenly caught off guard when their entire front line of horses began collapsing without any apparent explanation.

The impact was devastating, filled with the screams of horses, men, and the sounds of bodies crashing to the ground. At least eight hundred horses fell, creating widespread chaos. The ranks behind them had no time to react and were caught off guard, colliding into one another. The battlefield descended into complete disorder, with the agonized cries of men and animals echoing across the desert.

Seryna watched the scene, stunned. Her eyes turned to Jon, who remained motionless, observing the unfolding events with a fixed, intense gaze.

The Dothraki continued shouting, trying to regroup. Many were injured, some dead, while others staggered to their feet, confused, staring at the sea of bodies littering the ground. The surviving horses, having managed to rise, began to flee in panic, leaving their riders behind. Those who were still mounted struggled in vain to control their animals, but the horses simply bolted away from the battlefield.

“What was that?” Khal Mudak murmured, bewildered.

He tried to stand, wincing as sharp pain shot through his arm. It was broken from the fall. His eyes widened as he grasped the scale of the disaster—two of his three bloodriders lay dead on the ground, their necks snapped, while the last one, with a shattered leg, screamed in agony.

“Don’t let the horses escape! Hurry! We need to mount them!” he shouted, trying to command his men despite the unbearable pain.

But his own horse was already gone, sprinting desperately into the desert. More than five thousand Dothraki were now without mounts, vulnerable, and at a severe disadvantage.

Jon gave them no time to recover. He raised his hand and pointed forward, issuing the next command, his warg sending the message to the line of giants hidden on the other side of the hill.

In the next instant, the sound of thousands of bows being drawn taut echoed from beyond the hill. The sky darkened as it filled with massive arrows, each one over a meter and a half long.

The Dothraki looked up, frozen for a brief moment.

Then, the first arrows fell.

The projectiles tore through bodies like spears, killing instantly upon impact. The slaughter was brutal. The sound of flesh being pierced and bones shattering was soon drowned out by the screams of agony and terror. The enormous arrows pinned men to the ground effortlessly, resembling harpoons more than standard arrows.

The Dothraki attempted to retaliate, but more waves of arrows rained down, decimating their ranks before they could mount any sort of counterattack.

Jon watched the scene with cold, emotionless eyes. Thousands of Dothraki were being annihilated before even reaching the front lines. At least four thousand giants continued firing their colossal bows, turning the battle into a massacre.

Khal Mudak looked around, desperate. Bodies riddled with massive arrows covered the ground, painting a scene of utter devastation. His khalasar was being wiped out.

Jon raised his hand once more and gave the order to cease fire.

“Stop shooting.”

The giants immediately halted their barrage.

Jon turned to the five thousand men who had been positioned from the beginning, ready for direct combat.

“Let’s go, men. Hunt them all down, and remember—leave no one alive.”

He unsheathed his Blackfyre and spurred Ghost forward, charging across the arid terrain. Seryna followed right behind him, her hammer ready to crush skulls. The royal guards rode alongside them, followed by five thousand soldiers, kicking up a cloud of dust as they sprinted toward the enemy.

Half of the Dothraki were still alive, but they were scattered, terrified, and in complete disarray.

Khal Mudak surveyed the battlefield, now littered with the corpses of his warriors. Enormous arrows impaled the ground, some piercing through two or three men at once.

He looked up and saw the enemy army closing in. And in the midst of them, a massive armored wolf, charging straight at him, faster than the others.

His fear surged.

Death was coming for him.

And there was nowhere to run.

————-Nexts Chapters —————-

Chapter 242 – Artican Army vs Khal Drogo’s Khalasar 01.

Chapter 247 – Queen Daenerys of Arctic.

Chapter 257 – The Blood Eagle.

Chapter 266 – The Assassin in Winterfell.

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