Lynd feigned the demeanor of a traveler newly arrived in the region and asked, "I just got here and don't know much about the situation. I have a few questions."
"Go ahead," Fenya hesitated for a moment before responding.
Lynd continued his act. "Why are so many Dothraki gathered here? I traveled from Bello Town to this place and encountered at least four different Dothraki Khals from separate khalasars. Have they moved Vaes Dothrak here?"
Fenya sighed at the question before carefully explaining what she knew.
Through Fenya's firsthand account, combined with intelligence gathered by the Miracle Merchant Guild, Lynd finally gained a full understanding of the war and chaos sparked by the discovery of the gemstone mine.
It turned out the mine had not been discovered just a few months ago—it had been known about for a long time. However, due to its highly sensitive location, no one had dared to mine it. Any attempt to extract its riches would have inevitably triggered an unending cycle of conflict unless someone gained absolute control over the entire Disputed Lands.
For this reason, the rulers of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr had reached an unspoken agreement to keep the existence of the mine a secret. None of them dared to touch it, no matter how tempting the wealth might be.
However, this time, the mine's existence was exposed by accident. The Tattered Prince of Pentos and his mercenary company, the Windblown, happened to pass over the area. Among his men was an exceptionally skilled prospector who recognized the gemstone-rich terrain at a glance.
The Tattered Prince knew he could never claim such a massive open-air gem mine for himself, so he sought out potential partners. But during negotiations, the secret leaked. Before the rulers of the three Free Cities could suppress the news, it had already spread across the entire Disputed Lands.
In an attempt to prevent mercenary groups from seizing the mine, the three city-states devised a desperate plan: they lured the Dothraki into the region under the pretense of a battle for control of the gemstone mine. At the same time, citing the security of their cities as a concern, they hired additional mercenaries to keep the situation contained within the Disputed Lands. They also began purchasing large numbers of Unsullied from Slaver's Bay to bolster their forces.
The Dothraki, being raiders rather than miners, posed no direct threat to the gem mine itself. They lived by pillaging, not by industry.
The plan was that, after some time of hunting and warring among themselves, the Dothraki would eventually move on. They wouldn't stay long-term. The only ones who would suffer would be the villages caught in the Disputed Lands.
But the rulers of the Free Cities didn't care about those villages. The villages didn't belong to them, nor did they pay them taxes. In fact, they had long wanted to see those settlements erased. Now, the Dothraki were doing that work for them.
On paper, the plan seemed sound. By keeping each other in check, the Free Cities could stabilize the region, build their strength, gradually seize the initiative, and ultimately take control of the gemstone mine together.
But in practice, the very first step went disastrously wrong.
The original idea was for each of the three city-states to lure in a single Dothraki khalasar, arming them and offering wealth as bait, then manipulating them into attacking rival city-states. This would force the Dothraki into fighting among themselves.
But no one had anticipated what happened next.
As the three khalasars clashed in the Disputed Lands, other Dothraki khalasars inexplicably began to gather. And their numbers kept growing. What had started as a small skirmish turned into a full-scale migration.
Now, there were at least thirteen known khalasars in the area, with another seven or eight of unknown origin.
Each khalasar, even the smallest, consisted of at least five or six thousand warriors, while the larger ones numbered in the tens of thousands. Altogether, more than twenty Dothraki khalasars—over a hundred and fifty thousand warriors—had gathered in the Disputed Lands.
This was no longer a mere conflict.
This was a catastrophe.
A catastrophe aimed directly at the Free Cities.
Upon investigating, the rulers of Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr discovered the reason so many Dothraki had converged on the Disputed Lands—a rumor.
Someone had spread word that the legendary "Stallion Who Mounts the World," the prophesied Dothraki warlord destined to unite all the khalasars, would arise from the battles here.
At first glance, such a claim should have been easily dismissed. Even the Dothraki, for all their ferocity, weren't so easily fooled.
But as multiple khalasars arrived and fought, others began to take the idea more seriously. More khalasars joined, half in skepticism, half in curiosity. And as their numbers swelled, the once-laughable rumor began to feel like an undeniable truth.
Now, over twenty khalasars were already present, and more were reportedly on their way.
A massive, unprecedented Dothraki war was inevitable.
And the mastermind behind this chaos?
None other than the Triarch of Volantis' Tiger Party—Alios Qhaedar.
Alios was no stranger to Lynd. The two had a working relationship—Alios was the sole supplier of the Elixir of the Seven in Volantis, and he had even gifted Nymeria her Valyrian steel battle-axe.
The rulers of the Free Cities knew Volantis was behind this scheme.
But there was nothing they could do about it.
Their only option now was to brace for the storm that was coming.
In this looming Dothraki crisis, all three city-states would suffer to some degree. But some were more vulnerable than others.
Compared to Lys, which was insulated by the sea, and Tyrosh, which was separated by a water barrier, Myr was in the most immediate danger.
Lys and Tyrosh had some important towns on the mainland, but their main cities were located on offshore islands. It was well known that the Dothraki viewed seawater as poisoned water and would not cross it, but they were more than capable of laying siege to cities. Myr, however, had its main city on land, meaning it would bear the brunt of the Dothraki invasion.
To protect itself, Myr not only sought aid from the other Free Cities but also allied with various Dothraki tribes, using them as a buffer against the growing chaos.
Fenya's task had been to deliver weapons to one such tribe that was friendly with Myr. However, before the weapons could even be unloaded, that tribe was wiped out by another Dothraki force. Fenya's caravan was taken captive—only for their captors to be slaughtered that same night by yet another Dothraki tribe. Amid the chaos, they managed to escape.
Because the caravan had surrendered without resistance, and both tribes had been destroyed so suddenly, their weapons remained untouched in the wagons, still strapped to their horses.
What was even more absurd was that, since their wagons had empty space, the Dothraki had also tossed in various spoils from other raids. As a result, when Fenya and her people fled, they inadvertently took a wealth of plunder with them.
Upon hearing the details, Lynd felt a headache coming on. Given the current state of affairs, any plans he had for the Disputed Lands would have to be put on hold until the Dothraki finished their infighting and the situation stabilized.
That didn't mean he would sit idle, though. At the very least, the Tyroshi bonds in his possession needed to be put to use—Tyrosh couldn't be allowed to weather this crisis unscathed. The balance of power among the three Free Cities had to be maintained.
Lys also needed to be shaken up, but direct interference from him would be unwise. Volantis, however, could do it. The Tiger Party of Volantis still sought to reclaim power, and war was inevitable. In such a scenario, isolated, overseas Lys would be the perfect target.
As he contemplated how to adjust his plans, Lynd gestured toward the Dothraki warhorses outside the door. "The Dothraki I killed—were they the ones who captured your tribe, or...?"
"No," Fenya replied, glancing at the totems on the saddles. "They weren't the ones who captured us, nor were they the Dothraki who ambushed Khal Jhaqo. They must be from another khalasar."
"They belong to Khal Qhoqo's khalasar," one of the caravan guards, who was familiar with Dothraki customs, added. "Judging by the totem on their saddles, they were Kos under his command. Khal Qhoqo usually roams around the Qohor region and rarely ventures south. If he's come this far, then that rumor must have reached the north—and it seems they believe it."
Fenya let out a bitter chuckle. "Even the northern Dothraki have come. At this rate, this place might as well become the next Vaes Dothrak."
"What should we do now? Do we keep moving?" someone asked anxiously. "If we continue, we'll definitely run into more Dothraki along the way."
"But staying here isn't safe either," another person pointed out.
A hushed voice suggested, "We could hire Lord Ornstein to protect us on the way back to Myr…"
Before the speaker could finish, his companion clamped a hand over his mouth. The few believers of the Lion of Night glared at him in outrage.
In truth, many in the room had already considered the same thing. A man who could single-handedly slaughter so many Dothraki cavalry was beyond ordinary strength. Perhaps only the legendary Chosen One across the Narrow Sea could match him. With someone like him escorting them, their journey would be far safer.
But they knew they could never afford to hire the Lion Knight. The man had given away a thousand gold coins without a second thought—what could Fenya possibly offer to secure his service?
Just as uncertainty and frustration began to settle over the group, Lynd suddenly spoke up. "Lady Fenya, do you know any horse traders in Myr who could take in several hundred Dothraki warhorses?"
"I know several who could," Fenya replied immediately.
Lynd nodded. "In that case, I'll travel with your caravan tomorrow. Once we reach Myr, I'd appreciate it if you could introduce me to those traders."
Fenya immediately understood what he was doing—using the horse traders as an excuse to help her. If Lynd truly wanted to sell his warhorses in Myr, he wouldn't need her assistance. Merchants would come flocking the moment they heard of such a valuable cargo.
Dothraki warhorses couldn't be traded on the Essos mainland—such an act would make enemies of the Dothraki. But selling them across the Narrow Sea to Westeros? That was a different story. Every Dothraki horse was a prize, fetching double or even triple the usual price. They were the kind of luxury goods that Myrish merchants coveted.
Hearing Lynd's decision, a collective sigh of relief filled the room. Smiles returned to their faces, and the exhaustion from their days of running seemed to melt away.
Lynd inquired further about Myr, focusing especially on the wealthy merchants and nobles who held the title of Magister.
Although, in theory, all matters in Myr were decided by the Magister's Council, in practice, real power rested in the hands of three individuals.
The first was Merchant Prince Pash, the head of the Myr Chamber of Commerce and the Myr Bank, and the orchestrator behind Fenya's arms delivery mission. Under him were five Merchant Princes, responsible for overseeing all commercial affairs in Myr.
The second was Gaemon Belaerys, a noble of Myr. He claimed to be a descendant of the Valyrian House of Belaerys, though few believed his assertion. His title came through his wife, and five years ago, he became one of the Protectors of the Myr Castle District. Later, he joined forces with other Myr nobles to form the Nobles' Council, which controlled the city's political affairs.
The third was Magister Eamond, the Commander of the Myr Fleet. Once a gladiator slave, he had risen step by step to become Myr's military governor. He commanded not only the Myr Fleet—one of the city's key military forces—but also held authority over the Unsullied and the hiring of mercenary groups.
The other Magisters entrusted him with military power not just because he was a eunuch without personal ambitions, but more importantly, because he was loyal solely to Myr itself, never involving himself in political struggles within the city.
However, Magister Eamond was already over seventy and could no longer manage the city's military affairs personally. Nearly all armed matters had been delegated to three Armed Governors, all of whom, without exception, were former slaves, eunuchs, and former gladiators.
If one sought to take Myr by force, there was no avoiding Magister Eamond. He would be difficult to deal with—someone without personal desires was rarely easy to manipulate. Fortunately, the three Armed Governors under him were not as detached as he was.
Perhaps, to the other Magisters of Myr, eunuchs were seen as desireless and therefore easy to control. But to Lynd, who had knowledge of history from his past life, eunuchs not only possessed desires but often had cravings far stronger than those of ordinary men. As long as he could uncover what these men truly wanted, they would become much easier to manipulate.
As for the Noble Magisters who governed Myr's political affairs, they were the least concerning. While they still held some wealth, it paled in comparison to that of the Merchant Princes. Their only real asset was their noble titles—titles that, in Myr, were useful for posturing but worthless in times of true crisis.
The ones who were most troublesome, however, were the Merchant Princes, with whom Lynd had the deepest entanglements. These Merchant Princes were closely tied to the Miracle Merchant Guild, with many of them being members themselves. By gathering intelligence on them through the guild, Lynd had no trouble deducing their nature: they spoke pleasantly and amicably while conducting business, but the moment their personal interests were threatened, they would turn hostile without hesitation. If necessary, they would resort to ruthless tactics to eliminate their competition.
They were also fiercely exclusive. Despite the Miracle Merchant Guild having conducted large-scale business with them for years, if even a single one of them felt that the guild's activities infringed upon their interests, they would immediately band together to exert pressure—regardless of whether they had been enemies just moments before.
If Lynd wanted to deal with these Merchant Princes, he would have to do so from within Myr itself. At that thought, he turned to look at Fenya, and a plan began to form in his mind.