NOVEL NEXT Chapter 154: Chapter 154: Surprised or Not?
Around 9 a.m., War God Grazdan received authorization from the Council of Wise Masters and began mobilizing the city's soldiers.
By approximately 11 a.m., the soldiers of Yunkai had enjoyed a hearty lunch, followed by half an hour of rest. At 12:30 p.m., they marched out through Yunkai's eastern gate.
Meereen provided reinforcements: 10,000 Yellow Silk Cloaks, 10,000 gladiator slaves, and 2,000 members of the Windblown.
Later, the Ghiscari Allied Fleet transported several smaller, lesser-known mercenary companies, adding roughly 2,000 more mercenaries to their ranks.
With Yunkai implementing a scorched-earth strategy, countless enslaved farmers were slaughtered, and many landowners relocated to Yunkai.
The Great Wise Master conscripted 15,000 Ghiscari men from those landowning families, equipping them with Yellow Silk Cloaks.
Combined with the vast fleet of the allied forces, Yunkai's military strength was formidable. Under normal conditions, the Ghiscari army was not afraid of engaging Daenerys in a siege battle.
At 1 p.m., Grazdan led 23,500 infantry and cavalry to the forward camp, located five kilometers away.
Without delay, they passed through the forward camp, then the middle camp, marching with high spirits towards the rear camp, ten kilometers ahead.
"Don't worry, they won't escape. I already sent 2,000 light cavalry to guard the area," Grazdan reassured the Ragged Prince with a smile.
"How can 2,000 light cavalry stop 1,500 Unsullied?" Denzo frowned.
For some reason, ever since they left the city, an uneasy feeling gnawed at him. Even though the scouts repeatedly reported that the rear camp was normal—no ambushes, no dragons—he still felt on edge.
Suddenly, the warrior-poet's gaze sharpened. He pointed to a trench stretching endlessly eastward and asked, "Have you noticed? The trenches on both sides seem... wider?"
"Really?" Grazdan glanced around and chuckled. "Looks narrower to me."
The Northern Liberation Army's encampment lay five kilometers northeast of Yunkai. Its forward, middle, and rear camps stretched another ten kilometers further northeast, adjusting in width based on the terrain.
From above, if one were riding a dragon, Yunkai's plains resembled a black-and-green dinner plate—charred farmland in black, wild fields and forests in green.
Yunkai itself was like a meat bun sitting on the dark side of the plate, while Daenerys' camp looked like a twisted, deep-fried dough stick on the other side.
On both sides of this "dough stick," deep and wide trenches had been dug. The excavated yellow earth formed outer mounds over a meter high, while the inner side featured a sparse wooden palisade surrounding the camp.
"I meant the distance between the trenches. The camp has widened," Denzo clarified.
"The Dragon Queen built her camp based on the terrain; the width changes accordingly," remarked a scarred-faced man atop a tall horse, indifferent to the concern.
This man was Kago, a towering, mixed-blood warrior of Dothraki and Braavosi descent. Like Denzo, he was a deputy commander of the Windblown—one skilled in strategy, the other in combat—both serving the Ragged Prince.
"But…" Denzo's face turned red as he struggled for words. He wasn't even sure what exactly was bothering him.
After a moment, he muttered, "We should fill in those trenches."
"Are you senile? That would take a massive amount of work! We'd need the entire army, and we don't have time for that. We didn't even bring rations. The Wise Masters want to be back in the city for dinner!" Kago scoffed impatiently.
"Massive work!!!!"
Denzo's mind reeled as if thunder had exploded inside his skull. His entire body froze.
"There's something wrong with those trenches! Something is very wrong!" he suddenly shouted, almost hysterical.
"What's wrong?" The Ragged Prince, now alert, approached him.
"The rear camp only has about 4,000 soldiers. How could they have dug such long, deep trenches?" Denzo's face was filled with fear.
"Well… about that…" A mercenary nearby spoke hesitantly. "We dug them."
"What?" Everyone turned to him.
"Lucifer Long, what do you mean?" Denzo asked urgently.
The mercenary, a burly man in his forties, wore iron armor similar to Jorah Mormont's—before Jorah had acquired his Valyrian steel plate from Euron.
A heavily armored knight.
Scratching his bald head, Lucifer smiled wryly. "After we were captured, all of us—mercenaries and Ghiscari soldiers alike—were forced to dig trenches overnight. Only Meris was spared.
I told the overseers that I, like Meris, was from Westeros, even a landed knight from the North, but—"
Denzo cut him off impatiently. "Are you saying 900 of you dug over twenty kilometers of trenches in just two days?"
"We weren't the only ones digging. The Dragon Queen's army had tens of thousands working alongside us. Most of the work was done in one night. We prisoners just finished the rest."
"That doesn't make sense! Weren't Daenerys' soldiers exhausted? They had just completed a 600-kilometer forced march, then spent half the night digging trenches, and the next morning, they rushed toward Meereen again. Are they made of iron?" Denzo murmured in disbelief.
The Ragged Prince, now looking serious, pointed toward Grazdan, who was loudly giving orders nearby. In a calm voice, he said, "Denzo, go to the flanks and adjust the shield-bearers and crossbowmen. Once the slave infantry arrives, we attack immediately."
"This…" Denzo hesitated, then grabbed the Northern knight's arm before he could ride away. "It's normal to dig a trench outside a camp. Usually, it's just a small drainage channel to prevent flooding in heavy rain.
But Daenerys' trenches are so wide they're almost like small rivers. Why?"
The knight chuckled. "Are you confused? Trenches aren't just for draining rainwater; they're also for defense. Go take a closer look. They're not only wide, but also incredibly deep."
That made sense. Denzo forced a smile, waved him off, and let him go.
"Getting old, or just scared out of your wits by the Mother of Dragons?" Danzō muttered to himself as he began commanding his legion to form ranks.
By around 2:30 in the afternoon, the Yunkai'i army had completed their offensive formation. Spanning over a kilometer wide, ten thousand gladiators stood at the front, clad only in leather vests, each armed with a short sword and a hide-covered wooden shield.
Behind them, a thousand shield-bearers took position, followed by a thousand spearmen. Further back were four thousand archers draped in yellow cloaks, scimitars at their waists and longbows in hand.
On both flanks, a total of six thousand light and heavy cavalry stood ready.
Grazdan's confidence in capturing the rear camp within half a day stemmed from the ten thousand gladiators transported from Meereen.
He planned to use them as cannon fodder.
It was clear that once news of the Mother of Dragons liberating Meereen spread, these enslaved gladiators would become the greatest source of instability for Yunkai. Rather than risk a rebellion, it was better to make "use of waste."
"Unlock the gladiators' shackles," Grazdan, clad in silver armor, commanded loudly.
A little explanation is necessary here: even on the battlefield, slave soldiers were required to wear shackles.
But as the reputation of Queen Daenerys, the "Breaker of Chains," grew, the Wise Masters feared the gladiators might defect in battle. To prevent this, they chained five unfamiliar gladiators together—each shackle connecting one man's left leg to another's right leg.
This way, all ten thousand slaves were effectively bound together, making escape impossible.
Of course, such a formation had little combat effectiveness.
In a siege defense, where holding the line was crucial, chaining five gladiators together actually increased stability, ensuring they wouldn't flee.
However, this was not a defensive battle. Grazdan needed them to charge and leverage their individual combat prowess, so it was time to lighten their burden.
With only one leg still dragging a chain, they could maneuver in small areas but couldn't sustain long-distance running.
Five hundred meters before the rear camp gate, Grazdan sat atop his chestnut-colored horse, looking down at the gladiators squatting on the ground, rubbing their ankles. He shouted, "Win today's battle, and each of you will receive a barrel of wine, five pounds of meat, and two bed slaves!"
He could never promise them freedom—otherwise, what would the Ghiscari Alliance be fighting the Dragon Queen for?
The gladiators ignored Grazdan's words, focusing solely on their warm-ups.
Seeing his offer fail to stir them, Grazdan frowned and called out again, "Fifty gold honors for an Unsullied's head! Ten silver honors for an ordinary soldier!
Survive the battle, and even if you take no heads, each of you will receive five silver coins as a guarantee."
This time, the gladiators reacted, lifting their heads to stare at the Wise Master.
"I swear! I will honor my promise!" Grazdan unsheathed his scimitar and made his oath.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Ten thousand slaves pounded their shields and roared, "Long live the Wise Master! Long live the War God Grazdan!"
In their excitement, they seemed to have forgotten that the ones they were about to fight were the very people trying to save them.
"Prince, why?" Watching the slaves sink into a frenzy, Danzō quietly asked his commander.
Though the question seemed abrupt, the Ragged Prince knew his old comrade well.
A cold glint flashed in the gray-haired old man's eyes as he replied icily, "Because that woman deceived me. The one who signed the contract with you was never Daenerys Targaryen. Tell me, does that contract still hold any meaning?"
Danzō fell silent.
The Ragged Prince understood him, and he, in turn, understood his commander.
—He despised being deceived more than anything.
"Ho-ho! Boom! Boom!"
"Ho-ho! Boom! Boom!"
Ten thousand gladiators advanced, hunched over, step by step towards the camp. With every two battle cries, they struck their short swords against their shields twice.
Behind the camp's wooden barricades, the Unsullied stood in perfect formation, unfazed by the gladiators' provocations.
As the gladiators entered within fifty meters of the camp, Grazdan waved his hand fiercely and roared, "Kill—!"
"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!" War drums thundered through the battlefield.
"Creak—" Just as the warriors reached the height of their fervor, the camp gates suddenly swung open.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, the Unsullied in the front ranks parted to the sides.
"Screeeech—" A fearsome black dragon rose from the ground, letting out an ear-splitting roar towards the sky.
Grazdan. The Ragged Prince. Ten thousand gladiator slaves.
"H-he-he—" The gladiators closest to the gate stammered, their voices failing them, before finally breaking into panicked screams, "A dragon! The Mother of Dragons!"
"Boom! Boom! Boom!" The massive black dragon stepped forward with heavy, earth-shaking strides, moving towards the frozen gladiators.
"The Mother of Dragons is real. She—" Danzō's eyes widened as he stared in shock at the silver-haired woman atop the dragon's back.
There was no doubt—only the Dragon Queen could control the black beast.
The woman they had seen two nights ago was truly her!
Under the scorching sun, her silver-gold hair shone brilliantly. They could even see the mischievous smirk on her face, as if she were teasing them: "Surprised? Caught off guard?"
"She was waiting for us to march out all along!" In the sweltering afternoon heat, a cold sweat broke out on the Ragged Prince's back.
"I..." War God Grazdan was on the verge of tears. "F***!"
(End of chapter)
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