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Essos, Vaes Dothrak
11th Moon of 57 AC
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Three weeks had passed since the witches of the Dosh Khaleen proclaimed the verdict of the Horse God. Three weeks of a tense, deathly peace, where the Great Grass Sea had begun to change its shape forever. Those twenty-one days had not been filled with feasting or empty drunkenness; for Caspian, they had been the perfect opportunity to impose the cold and precise order of Xandar onto the wild chaos of the steppes.
During that time, the census ordered by Caspian was completed under the strict supervision of the librarians and scribes brought from Xandar. The numbers yielded by the registry were colossal—a demographic force capable of drowning the entire known continent beneath a sea of hooves and steel. The final count established the presence of 588,000 Dothraki warriors fit for combat. To them were added nearly one million five hundred thousand free people, including the women, children, and elders of the various Khalasars. Finally, the most staggering figure: nearly five million slaves, captured over decades of raids on the Free Cities, Lhazar, and Sarnor.
But the unification had not been without blood. Of the twenty-one khals who initially converged on Vaes Dothrak, only ten remained. The other eleven, blinded by pride and refusing to accept the yoke of a Khal dressed in metal, had devised rebellions among the peripheral khalasars. They had even gone so far as to attempt to assassinate Caspian during the night, storming his pavilion. The response of the Khal of Khals was swift and devastating: with his netherite armor impervious to blades and unleashing a brutal strength that bordered on the divine, Caspian beheaded and tore apart the rebels one by one with his own hands before the terrified hosts. With the voice of the insubordinate extinguished, Caspian absolutely claimed the title that the rulers of Earth's Mongolia uttered with reverence: Great Khan.
On the morning of the great meeting, the central pavilion of Vaes Dothrak looked different. The threadbare carpets and the smell of rancid fat had been removed, replaced by long tables of fine wood arranged in a wide rectangle. The Great Khan Caspian stood waiting at the head of the table, flanked by the imposing figures of his eight bloodriders, who guarded the entrances in their gleaming blue diamond armor.
Before him sat the ten surviving khals. Men like Khal Polo, Khal Qulio, and the other leaders who had chosen survival over pride. They were no longer independent lords; now they were the generals of the Dothraki army, subordinated to the will of a single man.
Caspian fixed his gaze upon the ten warriors. The silence in the pavilion was so heavy that the distant roar of Balerion and Endaxia outside seemed to vibrate through the leather walls.
"The census is finished," Caspian announced, his voice echoing with icy authority. "Of the twenty-one who ruled the Grass Sea, ten of you remain standing. You have shown wisdom by not following the path of the fools whose heads now adorn the pikes at the entrance. You will keep your title of Khal, but from this day on, that title means only one thing: you are the generals of my Khalasar. My word is the law, and your only function is to enforce it."
The khals nodded in silence. The lesson of the previous weeks was too fresh in their memories.
"The numbers of our people are clear," the Great Khan continued, spreading a large map of Essos across the center table. "We will form ten hordes. Each of you will receive command of a host of nearly sixty thousand riders. There will be no more disputes over pastures, nor wars between khalasars. You will be ten fingers of a single hand, ready to close like an iron fist over the world."
Caspian struck the table with his armored fist, marking the start of the structural directives.
"The three million slaves that your khalasars held will be stripped of their chains immediately. They will be sent in organized caravans toward Xandar. There they will be housed, fed, treated, and annexed into the Xandarian people, in exactly the same way I did before with the freedmen of Volantis. In Xandar there are no servants, only citizens who serve to aggrandize my kingdom."
Khal Polo moved his lips, wanting to protest the loss of what the Dothraki considered their most valuable property, but Caspian's fixed gaze, burning like dragonfire, froze the words in his throat.
"As for you, your warriors, and your families," Caspian continued, "you will not remain in these steppes. Tomorrow morning, the ten hordes will begin the march toward Vaes Yeraan."
The khals looked at one another, bewildered. They knew of Vaes Yeraan; the fortified city that Caspian had raised and reshaped with his mysterious building arts was his first stronghold on his rise to power, and the city served as a scythe in the north.
"You will live there," Caspian decreed. "Your women, your elders, and your children will inhabit the large structures I have provided. Your youths will fulfill their duty. You will remain in Vaes Yeraan until every man, woman, and child learns, respects, and assimilates all the rules, laws, and codes of Xandar and my government. You will learn that strength without order is nothing but barbarism, and I do not rule barbarians. Once your learning is complete, you will return here, to Vaes Dothrak. A city I intend to rebuild from its foundations to transform it into a worthy Dothraki bastion, a capital of stone, iron, and order that will make the Free Cities tremble at the mere mention of its name."
Caspian took a step forward, resting both hands on the table and leaning toward his generals with terrifying seriousness.
"Listen to me well, because I will not repeat myself. From this moment on, the following are strictly forbidden throughout the Grass Sea: slavery, plundering, the indiscriminate slaughter of innocents, and any act of savage barbarism. The punishment for anyone who violates this order is death. I do not care if it is ten, a hundred, or if I have to execute thousands of your men for you to understand. Whoever does not accept the new era will die. Is that clear?"
The silence that followed was absolute. The khals understood that the man before them was not negotiating; he was rewriting the very essence of their culture. One by one, they bowed their heads before the Grand Khan.
"Let it be so, Great Khan," Khal Polo declared on behalf of the ten. "Your hordes will march to Vaes Yeraan."
With the meeting with the generals concluded, Caspian left and began heading toward the Dosh Khaleen. As the afternoon breeze brushed his face, he walked with a firm step toward the most sacred and ancient sector of the city: the great palace of the Dosh Khaleen.
Horse-fat torches illuminated the damp stone corridors. This structure was not like in the show; this one, although also constructed mostly of wood, was tall, wide, and vast, with several rooms, halls, and spaces.
Upon entering the main chamber, the old widows of the khals were already waiting for him, sitting in a circle around the eternal fire. In the center waited the ancient matriarch, whose cataract-covered pupils seemed to focus on Caspian the moment his heavy boots stepped into the room.
Caspian stopped before them. He did not show the arrogance of a conqueror, but rather the modest deference of a man who was already learning how to use every piece on the board.
"The visions of the Horse God have been fulfilled," Caspian spoke, maintaining a respectful but firm tone. "The khals have knelt. The Invincible Horde is marching, and the Grass Sea is now united under my control, the Stallion Who Mounts the World."
The matriarch nodded slowly, the smoke of the bitter herb incense surrounding her hunched figure.
"The eyes of the old women saw the fire in the sky, herald of the Great Stallion. Destiny cannot be bent. The riders will follow your trail of metal because they fear the storm you bring with you."
"I came to offer you a pact," Caspian said, crossing his arms. "I know your power over the minds of the Dothraki is ancient and deep. I do not wish to destroy it; I wish to elevate it. I formally offer you the position of being my exclusive religious representatives to all the Dothraki people."
The crones murmured among themselves, surprised by Caspian's proposal.
"When my builders finish remodeling Vaes Dothrak," the Great Khan continued, "it will not be a collection of huts and plundered temple ruins. It will be a metropolis of astonishing proportions. And in the heart of that new city, I will raise a temple of black stone and columns of magnitudes never seen before for the Dosh Khaleen. I will give you spiritual control and civil government over Vaes Dothrak in my absence. You will be the voice that guides the soul of the ten hordes while my armies conquer the rest of Essos."
The matriarch of the witches kept silent for a few moments, weighing the monarch's words. She knew that Caspian possessed a power that defied human comprehension, and that his offer not only ensured the survival of the Dosh Khaleen but would place them at the pinnacle of an era of unimaginable splendor. Uniting the faith of the Horse God to the structure of Xandar would secure the blind loyalty of the Dothraki toward their new leader.
"The Horse God approves of your offering, Great Khan," the matriarch finally decreed, extending her skeletal hand toward the flames. "The Dosh Khaleen will speak in your name. We will tell the youths that your laws are the laws of heaven, and that your steel is the will of the Great Stallion. We will rule the sacred city under your shadow."
Caspian etched a slow, calculating smile in the gloom of the temple. The faith, the steel, and the demographics of the Great Grass Sea were now perfectly aligned under his command. The Great Grass Sea had ceased to be a disorganized hazard and had become the most fearsome weapon in the world.