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Chapter 267: Changes on the Western Coast of Essos
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 11:08:32 +0000 UTCSeveral years had passed since Nymeria established her kingdom and declared herself queen in Ny Sar. During this time, both Westeros and Essos had remained remarkably stable, with no major wars—only minor skirmishes, like the clashes between the Kingdom of Lorne and the Dothraki.
The Kingdom of Lorne, founded by Nymeria, solidified its borders after Qohor and Chroyane joined and Ghoyan Drohe was rebuilt. Its territory stretched north to the Velvet Hills and the Norvos Hills, south to Chroyane, west to the flatlands near Pentos, and east to the great forest of Qohor—essentially encompassing all the land along the tributaries of the mid-Rhoyne.
Unlike the ancient Rhoynar system of allied city-states, Lorne was a centralized monarchy, which allowed it to grow rapidly in power. In just a few years, it had already surpassed the might of the old Rhoynar kingdoms.
Meanwhile, the Dothraki had recovered from the Great Spring Sickness and, after a period of internal conquest, several large khalasars emerged.
Among them, a particularly strong khalasar led by Khal Qogo gained prominence—his name second only to Khal Drogo’s. Believing himself powerful enough, Khal Qogo set off westward toward the Free Cities, hoping to extract tribute and raid towns along the way.
Instead, he ran into the newly ascendant Kingdom of Lorne and Nymeria’s Rhoynar army. A great battle broke out in the northern Golden Fields, near Qohor.
Nymeria didn’t deploy a single warrior from Summerhall for the fight. The forces she led were entirely composed of the new Lorne legions formed after the kingdom's founding.
The battle ended with over three thousand casualties on Nymeria’s side and around two thousand Dothraki dead. During the fight, Khal Qogo was cleaved in half by Nymeria’s axe. After his khalasar retreated, they were immediately absorbed by Khal Drogo, who had been trailing them.
Khal Drogo then led his forces toward the Kingdom of Lorne, seemingly looking to exploit Nymeria’s exhaustion after the battle. But when Lynd appeared at her side with the Army of the Chosen, Khal Drogo promptly withdrew.
Not long after, Khal Drogo’s khalasar signed an agreement with the Kingdom of Lorne. The terms of this agreement remained unknown, but it was widely understood that Khal Drogo’s forces were allowed to pass through Lorne without interference. They refrained from looting any towns or villages, even engaging in trade with settlements along the way—an unheard-of behavior for a Dothraki khalasar.
Though the agreement cost Khal Drogo some prestige, the gains more than made up for it. He alone reaped the tributes from Norvos, Pentos, and Volantis, while the other khalasars were blocked to the east by the Kingdom of Lorne. They could only find limited spoils in Slaver’s Bay or were forced to raid even farther eastward.
...
In the Disputed Lands, the establishment of the Holy City of the Scourge brought Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr into close alignment, forming a religious district under the god’s name. This led to unprecedented development in the three Free Cities, and for the first time, a lasting peace settled over the region.
For the citizens of the three cities and the surrounding lands, the peace was a welcome relief—they no longer had to live in fear of war.
But for mercenary companies who relied on conflict for survival, the new order was stifling. Long-term contracts, like guarding city walls, disappeared. The laws grew strict—so strict that even minor brawls resulted in fines. One by one, mercenary bands had no choice but to leave the Disputed Lands and seek work in other Free Cities.
Yet as the mineral wealth of the Disputed Lands was gradually tapped, both internal and external trade surged. Merchant caravans began arriving from all over, and those caravans needed protection. This new demand brought mercenaries back to the region in droves. Escort commissions were now plentiful and lucrative—more than enough to cover previous losses. And besides, guarding trade routes was far safer than waging war.
...
Tristan Rivers was from the Riverlands, the bastard son of a prominent noble. “Prominent” was the only clue he had—he never knew exactly who his father was. What he did know was that before he came of age, his mother received a generous monthly allowance, enough to live in luxury.
But Tristan wasn’t the type to be content with what he had. Once he understood the circumstances of his birth, he began to dream of becoming a true noble. To chase that dream, he convinced his mother to hire a wandering knight who taught him swordsmanship and the etiquette of knighthood. After coming of age, Tristan entered tournaments that didn’t require noble blood.
Then came the blow: the mysterious benefactor cut off their funds. To make matters worse, his mother married the very knight who had trained him. With no support left, Tristan had to fend for himself.
At first, he clung to his ideals—upholding justice, helping the weak, much like Ser Duncan the Tall, whom he deeply admired. He dreamed of winning the favor of a wise ruler and rising to greatness.
But reality soon crushed those dreams. The burden of survival drove him to abandon his ideals. He turned to banditry, raiding caravans, and in time became a wanted man, forced to flee and live in a foreign land.
Like many other bastards and wanted men from Westeros, he had joined the Golden Company as a mercenary and had remained ever since, eventually rising to the rank of sergeant major.
After the Disputed Lands came under Lynd’s control, Myles Toyne, the commander of the Golden Company, showed great foresight by relocating the company’s headquarters to Volantis. There, taking advantage of its strategic location, the company focused on escorting caravans from various regions and signed long-term contracts with major merchant guilds.
Later, they even took part in the war between the Kingdom of Lorne and the Dothraki, earning notable military merits and a substantial commission in return. This allowed the Golden Company to recover quickly—now, they were nearly as strong as they had been before the Great Spring Sickness.
Tristan had been promoted to sergeant after that war, though not due to his battlefield achievements, but because of his seniority.
Within the Golden Company, those with more experience than him had either perished during the Great Spring Sickness or died fighting the Dothraki. Meanwhile, those more capable than him lacked the seniority to command respect, and in the end, Tristan benefitted from the opportunity.
Myles Toyne was fully aware of Tristan’s limitations and knew he wasn’t suited for complicated assignments. That’s why he only assigned him to caravan escort duties between Volantis and the Holy City of the Scourge.
This time, however, Tristan’s task wasn’t to escort a caravan but to accompany a pair of sisters from House Maegyr on a pilgrimage to the Holy City of the Scourge.
House Maegyr was an old family aligned with the Tiger faction, known for its strong ties with Summerhall and substantial trade connections. During the Great Spring Sickness, the Maegyr sisters had both contracted the plague and were on the brink of death. It was the priests of the God of Calamity who pulled them back from the edge, and since then, their faith had shifted from R’hllor, the Lord of Light, to the God of Calamity.
“Lord Tristan, is the Holy City of the Scourge really as magnificent as you say?” the younger sister, Meris Maegyr, poked her head out of the carriage and asked.
“Yes,” Tristan nodded in reply.
He was genuinely fond of the sisters—not because of their beauty, but because, unlike the arrogant and indifferent Volantene nobles he had encountered before, they treated everyone with kindness, even the servants. They continued to call him “lord” despite knowing he wasn’t of noble birth.
So when Meris asked, he answered patiently and sincerely.
“The stones used to build the Holy City of the Scourge were quarried from sites near the local gemstone mines. These stones often contain small precious gems, and when sunlight hits the buildings constructed from them, they reflect a dazzling array of colors. Even though the city isn't yet complete—with only the Temple of the God of Calamity, the city hall, and some stone-paved main roads finished—you can already imagine how stunning the Holy City will be when it’s fully built.”
“Using gemstones as building materials... the Holy City of the Scourge really does sound magnificent,” said her sister, Joanna Maegyr, who, growing bored inside the carriage, lifted the curtain and joined in. “Lord Tristan, could you tell us more about the temple of the God of Calamity?”
“I’m sorry, Lady Joanna,” Tristan said, tugging on the reins and slowing his horse until it was level with the carriage window, “but I’ve only ever seen the temple from a distance. I’ve never been inside.”
He continued, “Unlike other temples dedicated to the God of Calamity, entering the temple in the Holy City requires a certain qualification. Only those who pass the Trial of Piety are allowed to make a pilgrimage there.”
“Is the Trial of Piety difficult?” Joanna asked immediately.
“Not really,” Tristan replied, shaking his head. “Every month, High Priest Mafas conducts the trial for pilgrims. He gives them a gemstone and asks them to recite a prayer to the God of Calamity. Only those with true faith can make the gemstone glow like a candle.”
“Glow like a candle?” Meris’s face lit up with wonder.
Just as the Maegyr sisters were about to ask more about the Holy City, a scout—one of the mercenaries Tristan had sent ahead—came galloping back on horseback. Before he even reached the front of the group, he shouted loudly, “Bandits! There’s a group of bandits charging this way!”
The group immediately broke into a stir. Tristan quickly apologized to the sisters, then rode to the front, gave the scout a quick reprimand, and ordered the wagons and supplies to be pulled together to form a makeshift barricade. Everyone took cover behind the wagons, drawing bows and weapons in preparation for battle.
Soon enough, the bandits appeared on the horizon—over a hundred of them, all mounted and wearing crude leather armor. Judging by their gear and formation, they were seasoned raiders.
"Why are there so many bandits?" Tristan was visibly surprised after estimating their numbers. Ever since the Disputed Lands had come under Summerhall’s control, bandits had become a rare sight in the region. A band of over a hundred was almost unheard of—he could hardly recall even a group of a few dozen showing up in recent years.
Although the caravan numbered over three hundred people, far more than the approaching bandits, the vast majority were unarmed servants with no combat ability. The only trained fighters were the forty-some men under Tristan's command. He wasn’t at all confident they could protect the caravan if it came to a fight.
Assessing the situation quickly, Tristan ordered the Maegyr sisters to dismount and stay close to his horse. If it became clear they couldn’t hold off the bandits, he would retreat with his men and get the sisters to safety. As for the rest of the caravan—they would have to be left behind. At this point, the sisters' safety was the highest priority.
But just as Tristan braced for battle, the charging bandits did something strange—they veered away from the wagon formation entirely, galloping past in a panic. Tristan could even make out the fear on their faces, as if something far more terrifying was pursuing them from behind.
Before he could make sense of it, a sudden rain of arrows descended from the sky, striking the bandits with uncanny precision. One after another, they were knocked off their horses, each shot landing like a nail driven into flesh. Within moments, the entire band of over a hundred had been taken down. Most died instantly from arrow wounds or the impact of the fall; a few were left groaning on the ground, barely clinging to life.
Almost all of the arrows had avoided the caravan entirely—only a few stray shafts had embedded themselves in some of the goods near the edge of the convoy.
Then came the thunder of hooves in the distance. A unit of armored cavalry galloped toward them in tight formation.
"It’s the Scourge Rangers of the Chosen Legion!" Tristan immediately recognized them by their distinctive armor.
The Scourge Rangers reached the caravan without a word to its members. Dismounting, they moved straight to the fallen bandits. Those still alive were tied up and thrown across horses. The dead were stripped of anything valuable, then buried on the spot in shallow graves.
At that moment, the unit’s captain rode up beside the caravan. His gaze fell on the few arrows lodged in the caravan’s cargo. His expression darkened. He turned and barked to his men, "Whose arrows are these?"
The adjutant stepped forward, pulled the arrows free, examined the markings at the tail, and reported, "They’re from Adrik, Malic, and Danos."
"Adrik, Malic, Danos!" the captain shouted. When the three soldiers came forward, he pointed to the arrows and demanded, "These yours?"
"Yes, sir," the three replied, clearly embarrassed.
The captain’s tone hardened. "When we return, report to the military tribunal for your lashes. Your daily training is doubled."
"Understood, sir," the three answered quickly, not daring to object.
The captain then turned back to the adjutant and ordered him to record the caravan’s name. He instructed the caravan leaders to take their damaged goods to the Miracle Trading Company for assessment. With an official damage report, they could claim compensation from the Chosen Legion’s garrison.
With that, the Scourge Rangers gathered their loot and prisoners, mounted up, and rode off without delay.
