Disclaimer: I do not own
A Song of Ice and Fire it is owned by G.R.R. Martin.
Return of Valyria
Chapter 4
As it was, it took about a month for Volantis to finish its preparations for war to reclaim its ancestral holdings. Given their primacy on the Rhoyne Front, with the Freehold providing assistance and support to their Volantene allies in that theater of the war, the Freehold similarly held off on offensive operations in this region. For the most part: dragonriders and horsemen probed north, up the valley of the Rhoyne, and west, into the Disputed Lands. Spies and informants gathered as much information as they could, and in the small, faint hope that order could be restored to Essos without unnecessary bloodshed, messages had been sent to the other Free Cities, proclaiming the return of the Valyrian Freehold, and calling on them all to peacefully submit to Valyrian hegemony once more, and for a peaceful arbitration of the issues that had divided and turned the Free Cities against each other.
The hope was in vain. Most of the Free Cities derided Volantis' claims – as they saw it – of Valyria's return as propaganda, a façade for a second attempt by Volantis to gain hegemony over Essos as it once attempted to do over three hundred years ago.
Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr immediately cut off all trade with Volantis, with any and all shipping flying their cities' flags heading east and west through the Summer Sea being instructed to avoid Volantis. Warnings were also sent to Volantis, threatening the destruction of their fleet and a blockade of the city should Volantis attempt to force the issue.
These warnings and the embargo were backed by Braavos, which even blamed Volantene agents for starting the civil wars tearing apart Norvos and Qohor. Braavosi money poured into anti-Volantene factions in the civil wars, with Braavosi delegates serving as impartial arbitrators to allow those same factions to form unified coalitions to restore order to their cities, and provide steadfast leadership aimed at maintaining their domains' independence from what they and Braavos condemned as Volantene tyranny.
Pentos was silent: as a Braavosi client, they simply decided to follow their hegemon's lead in all things.
Lorath for its part declared neutrality, citing the distance between itself and Volantis, and its own limited resources compared to the other Free Cities. For the time being, such was accepted with no question by the belligerents of the war that would soon set Essos ablaze.
"This is intolerable." Tychano snapped as he sat with his fellow Triarchs. "The embargo imposed by all five western Free Cities is costing us millions per day, to say nothing of northern trade drying up thanks to the civil wars in Qohor and Norvos. And while Lorath is willing to continue trading with us…considering the distance and Lorath's own status as the smallest of the Daughters of Valyria, it's not worth much at all."
"You exaggerate the situation, my friend." Vargano said. "Yes, we lose millions due to the embargo, but much of that is steadily being rectified as trade with the Freehold grows. Indeed, as trade with the west dries up, trade with the Freehold increases, as merchants unable to make money in the west turn east, to Mother Valyria. And we have much to offer to her merchants, and her own merchants to us."
"And once the war really begins," Aerarro said. "The need to ship supplies and men up the Rhoyne will provide a non-insignificant source of income for us as well. And it's not like Ghiscar and Qarth have stopped trading with us, and the same goes for Yi Ti and Asshai."
"So you say," Tychano conceded. "But you mentioned Ghiscar, did you not? Are not Valyrian armies marching on Meereen even as we speak? As the fighting escalates there, trade with the east will begin to dry up as well."
"What?" Aerarro asked. "Once Ghiscar falls, then the Freehold will have plenty of land and property, to say nothing of slaves, that will need to be rebuilt and put to productive work. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for our eastern trade then, and much easier for us to do business in than is currently the case with New Ghis."
Tychano was silent at that, and Vargano nodded slowly. "In any case," he began. "The Freehold has no intentions within the foreseeable future to go against Qarth or Asshai, so trade with those lands should not be affected."
"And following up on what I said just now," Aerarro said. "As we advance north, up the Rhoyne, there will also be plenty of land for us to put to good use. The building of fortifications in the hinterland will also present opportunities for considerable profit. And once both Norvos and Qohor are brought to heel, together with our control of the Rhoyne…"
"Then the embargos will essentially become meaningless." Vargano said before narrowing his eyes. "And in any case, it's not as though the western cities aren't hurting their own economies with this embargo of theirs. And they have less options than we do. For instance, once the Freehold has once again regained Ghiscar, then
we and the Freehold can embargo the west. Let's see how long they can hold out then, without access to most of the eastern and the entire Rhoyne markets."
Aerarro nodded in approval, while Tychano looked unhappy, though he remained silent. "Any word from Westeros?" Vargano asked after a moment.
"None," Aerarro said. "Or at least they don't seem to be reacting actively or openly in response to our and the Freehold's proclamations of the latter's return. No doubt though, their spies are already hard at work trying to find out as much as they can. Sooner or later, there
will be a reaction."
Vargano made a sound indicative of interest. "And how do you think the Usurper would react?" he asked.
Aerarro shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "It all depends I guess, on whether or not and how far his hatred of the Targaryens extends to other Valyrians, or to other dragonlords in particular. And whether or not cooler heads among his confederates can restrain him from rash action. That deputy of his, Arryn if I remember correctly, he's a sharp and composed one from what I know."
Vargano nodded. "True," he admitted. "I suppose we will find out soon enough."
"Indeed."
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Saying the Valyrian Army was marching on Meereen and the rest of the Slaver Cities would be true…generally-speaking. Details-wise, the Valyrian Army was busy taking control of the northern coast of Slavers' Bay, dotted as it was with a number of villages and small towns. At the same time, fortifications were being built inland, stout keeps of stone boasting a tall signal tower, surrounded by a curtain wall sporting battlements and towers.
In addition to Slavers' Bay's northern coast, the passes over the Painted Mountains were being fortified, with the Freehold planning to assign a full legion and an equivalent number of auxiliaries to hold the passes. All in all, they would number approximately ten thousand men, and while normally at a disadvantage against the expected enemy – the Dothraki – on the open, in the rugged terrain of the mountains and supported by dragons, they would be enough.
Currently, the First Cohort of the Fifteenth Legion, titled the 'Pyramid Breakers' for their achievements during the Fifth Ghiscari-Valyrian War over four thousand years ago, was preparing to camp for the night outside and around a small coastal town which had surrendered earlier during the afternoon. By order of Triarch Laemar Lennareon, the settlements of Slavers' Bay would be offered a choice: surrender, and their lives, freedom, and property would be spared and guaranteed under Valyrian law. They would pay taxes to the Freehold, and follow its laws, and in return the Freehold would provide protection and other public services.
Refuse to submit, and their freedom, property, and if need be, their lives, would be forfeit. A number of settlements had foolishly chosen this option, and were now naught by burned ruins. Their militiamen or sellswords slain, their properties divided by lot among the soldiers and officers which had taken their settlement…
...but as for the inhabitants themselves…the men would likely end up being put to work in mines, factories, or plantations for the rest of their lives, though the stronger, and more fit among them might get a chance at freedom by fighting in the gladiatorial arenas. The older women would likely be sold off as house servants, the younger ones to brothels or to rich men with a taste for bed slaves, and the children to serve as companions to other children, and who actually had a very good chance at eventually regaining their freedom: it was customary for a young man or woman of good social standing to free their companions upon reaching adulthood.
Going back to the First Cohort of the Fifteenth Legion, Legion Commander Galaerys was standing in his tent, looking over a map of the surrounding area spread over a large table. Colored markers indicated the locations of the other cohorts of the Fifteenth Legion, along with their auxiliaries. Other markers showed the locations of the Fifth Legion and their auxiliaries, and who were in fact taking point for the expedition.
Within a month…
…no, less than that, assuming the Ghiscari weren't
completely incompetent, the Meereenese would respond, and likely probe the Valyrian vanguard as it approached the Skahazadhan river. And when that happened…
Movement drew the Valyrian officer's attention, First Captain Gaemar saluting just past the tent entrance. "Commander," the man said as Galaerys returned the salute. "Reporting that fortification of the camp is complete, and our men are settling down for the night."
"Very good, captain." Galaerys said with a nod, before indicating the map in front of him. "Take a look at this."
"Sir?" the man said as he stepped closer, and Galaerys began to indicate dots on the map where the Valyrian Army was building forts and other fortifications across the hinterland.
"We're digging in across the entire hinterland," Galaerys said. "While at the same time we're advancing towards Meereen. Put another way, our troops are spread thin across the entire region. If we're not careful, any enemy that manages to get past or around the frontline will wreak havoc on our rear echelons."
"Yes, sir." Gaemar agreed. "At least until the fortification of the hinterland is complete."
"Perhaps," Galaerys mused. "Against an enemy that fights properly, like the Ghiscari, they would be enough. Maybe enough that there'd be no need for dragonriders like what's going to be stationed here…here…and here. Against enemies that don't fight properly though…"
"Dothraki and rebels…" Gaemar muttered, and Galaerys nodded.
"Quite," Galaerys said. "It'll be quite the hunt on the ground for us, and if our men aren't careful, they could just be led into a trap. Dragonriders would be very helpful in such a case…once the fortification of the hinterland is done, at least."
"Yes sir, as you say."
Galaerys nodded. "We're getting close to Meereen." He said. "We could encounter the enemy at any time. I want double lookouts at night, and double scouts while on the march."
"It will put a strain on our supply train." Gaemar warned. "I'll have to arrange things with the quartermasters to keep things going smoothly."
"Do so." Galaerys said. "A little difficulty for us now is preferable to big trouble later on."
"Yes, sir. It will be done." Gaemar said with a nod.
"Also," Galaerys said before the first captain could leave. "I'll need a messenger ready by first light."
"To where or who, sir?"
"To Legion Commander Vamar of the Fifth Legion, of course." Galaerys said with a sigh. "We need to tighten our lines. As things stand, our forces aren't just spread too thin, we can barely support each other…if at all."
"I understand, sir. The messenger will be ready at first light, as ordered."
Galaerys nodded, and with a salute, the first captain departed, and left the legion commander alone to his worries.
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The fleet assigned by the Valyrian Navy to cover and support the Valyrian Army's march along the northern coast of Slavers' Bay was anchored offshore along a sheltered stretch of coastline. Numbering some two hundred ships strong, it was composed largely of two-mast galleys with thirty oars on either side and three men for every oar, on top of the ship's officers and additional men for actual combat, whether boarding or missile and artillery crews with composite bows and traction trebuchets. Unlike the ships sent to Volantis in the previous month, these ships didn't carry ballistae, which were in fact in the middle of being phased out by the Valyrian military as a whole, considered to be too cost-inefficient compared to simpler but more effective weapons such as traction or counterweight trebuchets.
In addition to war galleys, there were also dromons, two-banked and two-mast affairs with sixty oars per side, and in addition to traction trebuchets and archers, carried the deadliest weapon in use in naval warfare. And which according to information provided by Volantis had been lost if not outright forgotten in the four centuries since. If so, then it would be a most unpleasant surprise for the Freehold's enemies when the time came.
Fires burned on great braziers on the decks of the ships on the outside of the fleet's formation at nighttime rest, their crews using large disks of polished bronze to reflect the light out to sea, and in so doing be able to see potential enemies on approach. On the dromon
Eternal Star, Admiral Vigarys was poring over two maps of Slavers' Bay.
One was from four hundred years ago, and another was of the present day, provided courtesy of Volantis. "We should be thankful Elyria remains as it should be," the admiral said. "That is, it's
our Elyria, and not some Ghiscari bastardization."
"As you say, sir." Captain Vagar said.
"In any case," Vigarys continued. "Any word from Valyx just yet?"
"There has been some delay," Vagar began with an air of apology. "However, Admiral Valyx will be setting sail in two days for the Isle of Cedars, while the Grand Fleet under Grand Admiral Rhaegar will be setting out as well, to cover Admiral Valyx's right flank in the eventuality that New Ghis launches its fleet to oppose the latter's sortie."
"…I see." Vigarys said with a slow now. "And the nature of the delay?"
"The sorcerers apparently needed more time to prepare."
"Sorcerers? Whatever for?"
"According to the report from Admiral Valyx, the scouts sent to the Isle of Cedars reported back that something…
wasn't right, about the island." Vagar said. "As such, Triarch Laemar has decided to take prudent measures, and attached sorcerers to Admiral Valyx's command for this sortie."
"Glass candles need slaves to work." Vigarys muttered. "Or rather their blood…lots of it, if there's something off with the whole island. Still, I see the Triarch's point, and while I don't like it, it does seem to be the right course of action."
"Yes, sir."
"Of course," Vigarys began while looking down at his maps again. "This will delay our own plans yet again, forcing us to continue to hug the coast until Valyx can close the whole bay off. And until then, we can't strike and take Yaros, much less have the positioning we need to completely blockade Yunkai and Astapor. What a pain."
"Unfortunately that does seem to be the case, sir."
Vigarys sighed. "In any case," he said, marking down notes on the maps and on a clean leaf of papyrus. "Such is war. Even the best plans don't always go smoothly. That's just the way things are."
"Sir."
Vigarys nodded. "Well, thank you for that report, captain." He said. "Dismissed."
"Yes, sir."
The captain saluted, and then leaving the admiral's cabin, left the man alone to his work.
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As Legion Commander Galaerys predicted, Meereen took action before too long. Barely a week after the former had sent to the Fifth Legion's commander of the need to contract and tighten the Freehold's lines, outriders of the Fifth Legion brought back word that an army of ten thousand had crossed the Skahazadhan river and were marching west, to challenge the Valyrian Army to battle.
Legion Commander Vamar immediately recalled his cohorts and auxiliaries, consolidating his forces into a matching force to that of the enemy. Approximately two days' march west of the Skahazadhan, the Valyrians and the Meereenese faced each other across the battlefield.
The Valyrians and the Meereenese were in stark contrast to each other. The Valyrians were a uniform force, flying the same banners and holding the same standards: red banners with golden dragons, or crimson standards bearing in gold the numerical glyph for the number five, the latter topped with gilded figures of a hand raised in defiance beneath a dragon similarly snarling in defiance.
The Meereenese forces flew an eclectic mix of banners and standards, and indeed, their forces appeared hodgepodge and ramshackle, lacking standardization between them. It was most…surprising, as Meereen was supposed to be a tributary of the New Ghiscari Empire, just as it once was to Old Ghis. Had the Ghiscari somehow forgotten how to raise and maintain lockstep legions?
If so, then there was a brutal and delightful irony there. For slavery was not the only thing which Valyria had learned from and adapted during its wars with Old Ghis, for indeed, the legions of the Valyrian Army had been modeled on and trained to fight against the lockstep legions of Old Ghis.
For New Ghis to have forgotten their ancestors' admittedly-impressive ability to wage war where Valyria had not and indeed, had adapted it for its own…
Horns sounded and a white banner was raised among the Meereenese lines. "They signal for a parley, commander." First Captain Jaeron remarked.
"So it seems." Legion Commander Vamar said with a nod. "Let's humor them, shall we? Sound a response, and get a white banner up."
"Yes, sir."
The Valyrians sounded their own horns and raised their own white banners, and in minutes two parties from opposing sides were riding to meet each other between their armies. "Greetings," Vamar said in Volantene as he came within earshot. "I am Legion Commander Vamar of the Fifth Legion. What brings you so far west?"
"Hello to you too, legion commander." The opposing commander returned the greeting. "I am Captain-Commander Joror Aenoyor of the Horde of Blood and Iron. As to your question, it's rather obvious, isn't it?"
"It is?" Vamar asked.
"My employers over at the city yonder aren't exactly too enthusiastic about you marching on their lands." Joror answered.
"Employers, you say?" Vamar asked. "I take it you're not a citizen-soldier or anything of the sort of Meereen or the Ghiscari, are you?"
Joror laughed. "No, commander, I am not." He said. "Just your usual free company leader. That said, I'd also say you make for a very…unusual-looking, leader for a free company. And your men are rather too disciplined and uniform for it too…"
"You assume much, sellsword." Vamar said coldly, unamused at being seen as a sellsword himself.
"Not really," Joror said with a shrug. "But the Great Masters do."
Vamar raised an eyebrow at the contemptuous tone Joror used to refer to Meereen's aristocratic rulers. It didn't go unnoticed. "That bunch sitting in their pyramids sipping bad wine and fattening themselves on sweetmeats are too far up their own asses to be able to see more than what's on the surface." Joror said. "Me and mine, though? We see and hear a lot of things."
"Such as?"
"They say the Doom is gone." Joror said with a smile. "That Valyria has returned from the grave, that dragons fly once again over Essos, and that Volantis is about to go to war to rebuild the Freehold again."
Vamar smiled cryptically. "And what of it?" he asked.
Joror looked at his captains. They nodded at him. "I'd say a lot of it is bull." He said. "Except the bit about Volantis, that is. What's dead is dead after all, and nothing ever comes back from over that line. Least of all Valyria, which dug too deep and cracked hell's roof and ended getting burned for it. I don't know how you Volantenes managed to raise an army as big as you have behind you, much less send it all the way here without getting noticed, but hey, I'm just a sellsword. It doesn't matter to me."
"Hmm…and what would?"
"Well," Joror began. "We could fight it out, like my employers would prefer, and me and mine would chase you lot off back to your ships – wherever they are – after which you lot can go fuck off back to Volantis. Or…we can come to an arrangement."
"An arrangement, you say?"
"Come now," Joror said with a grasping gesture. "You know how this works, Volantene. The Great Masters paid us to chase you off and keep you bunch from their city…but if you can give us a better offer, then we can all take our fair share of Meereen. What do you say?"
Vamar's face twisted in disgust. "
Greedy and dishonorable scum," he spat in High Valyrian. "
A sellsword you might be, but I'd have hoped for a little bit of honor, professional pride in keeping to your given word as set down in your contract! And you would tell me that for a little more gold your word and signature are worth as much as the paper it's on? And that I would bargain with the likes of you?"
"Commander," the sergeant major said cautiously. "You're speaking in High Valyrian. I don't think these lowlifes can understand it."
The sellswords bristled at that. "Watch your tongue, little man." One sellsword captain said. "Or we'll cut it out for you."
The sergeant major reached for his sword, but was stopped by a hand on his arm, courtesy of the legion commander. "We are at parley." Vamar said. "We will not draw weapons."
"Yes, sir." The man said, relaxing and pulling his hand back. "My apologies."
Vamar nodded, and then turned back to the sellswords with a cold expression on his face. "Here is my offer." He said just as coldly. "Either you surrender here and now, at which point you'll be interned until after we finish our campaign in this theater, or you can stand and fight. Here and now, or retreat to Meereen and fight there when the time comes, it doesn't matter. Know that if you fight though, only death, or a slave's chains await you, sellsword."
Joror and his captains' faces turned ugly. "Big words, Volantene…" one of the latter began, only to be interrupted.
"Wrong!" Vamar snarled. "I am no Volantene. I speak their language for your sake, but I am
Valyrian. So are all my men, and my superiors. Submit before the Freehold here and now, and receive mercy later. Defy us, and suffer for it. Choose, sellsword!"
The sellswords laughed mockingly before turning to leave. "It takes more than dragon banners and strong words to revive the Freehold, Volantene." Joror said mockingly. "Or should I say 'Valyrian'? No matter…you should have remembered the Century of Blood, Valyrian. Don't worry: we'll remind you of how it ended in a way you'll never forget."
Vamar sneered as the sellswords rode away, and then turning back rode towards his army. "What should we do, commander?" the first captain asked, riding out to meet the legion commander.
"Keep the foot auxiliaries to the rear," Vamar ordered. "When the opportunity comes, have them attack the enemy foot's flanks."
"And our cavalry?"
Vamar turned to look at the sellswords in the distance, shouting and roaring out war cries and taunts. "We'll put them in reserve," he said. "Until our enemy makes a move with their cavalry."
"Yes, sir."
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For hours, the two armies stared each other down, enduring the scorching heat of the Sun in the dry lands around Slavers' Bay. The Valyrians stood in stoic silence, save for the barked orders and shouted encouragement of their officers. In contrast, the sellswords grew increasingly agitated as the hours passed, shouting taunts and insults at the Valyrians to try and get them to make the first move, and present opportunities, mistakes, and weaknesses to exploit…to no avail. Superior Valyrian discipline kept their troops, no matter how insulted, from acting without orders.
As noon came however, the endurance of both sides reached the breaking point, and by unspoken agreement both armies withdrew to their camps, for water and a chance to get out from under the scorching Sun. Within hours however, as the temperature dropped, and the Sun began to sink towards the horizon, both armies marched out to confront each other again.
Again, the Valyrians stood silent and stoic for the most part, while the sellswords chomped at their bits, eager to spill blood and the chance to loot and spoil their fallen enemies in death. Ultimately, it was the sellswords who gave way first, their captains fearing their men turning on them if they refused to give battle now, and dispatched their cavalry to try and flank the Valyrian Army.
"Deploy our cavalry." Vamar said. "Keep them from flanking us, but do not charge until the enemy does."
"And if they do?" the sergeant major asked.
"Rout them."
"By the Fourteen, it will be done."
Soon, almost a thousand horsemen were moving away and around the Valyrian foot, running past at a medium trot and keeping pace with the sellsword cavalry. The sellswords attempted to draw the Valyrians off and outflank them, but despite their best efforts, were unable to shake or outflank the Valyrian cavalry.
Annoyed, the sellswords' cavalry commander decided to charge and break the Valyrian cavalry. Orders were given and the formation shifted from a marching column to a wedge aimed at the Valyrians, and with the roaring of horns, the sellswords charged.
The Valyrians picked up the pace, speeding up to a fast trot, but maintaining a broad line facing the sellswords. The wan light of the afternoon Sun shone off mail hauberks that reached to the riders' wrists and knees, and off the bronze scales which armored their horses. Purple eyes looked through narrow slits cut through enclosing helms, and then raising bows made from wood, bone, and sinew, the Valyrians fired disciplined, mass volleys of steel-tipped arrows against the sellswords in a demonstration of skill in mounted archery rarely seen outside of the Dothraki
khalasars. And then the front rank peeled off, turning to the flanks to allow the next rank to bring their bows and arrows to bear, and then peeling off, repeated for the next line.
A difference quickly became apparent, however. Valyrian mounted archers fired at a slower pace compared to the Dothraki, but did so by pulling their bowstrings further back, adding more power to their shots, allowing them greater chances to punch through mail and even padded leather. And against the sellswords' unarmored horses, where the fast-paced volleys of arrows launched by Dothraki would only cause painful but otherwise non-serious cuts and punctures, the Valyrians' more powerful volleys could incapacitate or even kill. Even more so, as the Valyrians took the time to properly aim before firing.
The sellswords' charge buckled and then melted, struggling to stay together even as the Valyrian formation shifted from a line to a wedge, the last rank of mounted archers peeling away as lancers lowered their lances. War horns sounded the charge, and the Valyrians kicked their horses to full gallop.
To their credit, the sellswords managed to partially reform their ranks quickly enough once the arrows stopped falling, but with their charge broken and no time to pick up speed once more, they found themselves at a major disadvantage. No less than two ranks were crushed by the Valyrian charge, with the third buckling in many places.
By then the Valyrians' first rank was drawing swords and maces, while those behind them joined in with weapons already drawn, turning the battlefield into a bloody melee that was a fairer fight, though Valyrian mounted archers continued to launch wave after wave of arrows into the sellswords' ranks. And once their arrows ran out, they too drew their weapons and charged in to join the melee.
Elsewhere Valyrian foot was closing in on the sellsword foot, the Valyrians presenting a wall of pikes before the enemy while archers of both sides rained arrows down on their enemies. The sellswords wavered but held, marching forward to close the range, crossbowmen advancing to open fire. Steel bolts punched through Valyrian shields, mail, and padded leather with terrifying ease, and the sellswords alternated their crossbowmen in three ranks. The first rank fired, then stepped back to reload, while the second rank advanced to fire and then stepped back to reload, while the third rank fired and then stepped back to reload while the first rank advanced once more to fight.
Rinse and repeat…before long, the Valyrian wall of pikes had collapsed, and with a roaring of horns both sides charged. Clashing head to head, the Valyrians quickly and surprisingly - for the sellswords - gained a minor advantage, their legionaries' superior discipline allowing them to maintain the line even in the heat of battle, and preventing them from being pushed back. But the sellswords fought with impressive fury, and the Valyrian commander ordered his reserves pushed into battle.
Foot auxiliaries advanced from the Valyrian rear to either side, raining down arrows as they closed on the sellswords' flanks. The sellswords' formation buckled but held, prolonging the melee for nearly three hours…
…and may have held for longer had the Valyrian cavalry not finally routed their enemies. Captain-Commander Joror sounded the retreat, the sellsword cavalry retreating as best it could to the east. They left behind nearly six hundred of their own dead including the rearguard, with nearly two hundred more escaping in the direction of Meereen.
Despite their exhaustion after having fought a hard battle already, the Valyrian cavalry reformed, and charged the sellsword foot from the rear. Surrounded on all sides and with no chance to retreat or escape, the sellswords held out for as long as they could.
But as the Sun began to dip beneath the horizon, the survivors surrendered. Out of just over nine thousand sellsword infantry, over four thousand were dead, and nearly five thousand were marched disarmed and in chains, to the slavers waiting behind Valyrian lines.
The Valyrian Army's Fifth Legion, along with its attached auxiliaries, would lose some five hundred men out of nearly a thousand horsemen, along with nearly two thousand out of over nine thousand footmen.
Despite such losses however, victory for this battle clearly belonged to the Freehold. And the road to Meereen was now open.
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A/N
What, did you expect Valyria to depend solely on dragons? Just like Rome, the Valyrians adopted and adapted for their own use/preferences those aspects of their enemies which they found useful. Slavery for instance, and the lockstep legions for another, from the Ghiscari.