GOT: The Great Khal — Chapter 147 - The Horse Lord's Troop Strength

Tyrion stood on the walls of Storm's End for half the morning.

From where he stood, he could see the vast encampment spread below the fortress. Tents covered every flat stretch of ground and every gentle slope before the castle, dense as scales, running all the way to the edge of sight.

Dothraki, freedmen, Unsullied. Three entirely different peoples, crowded around this ancient Baratheon stronghold.

"Counting tents?"

The voice came from behind him. Tyrion didn't turn. He knew that tone.

Daenerys walked up beside him, her silver-gold hair scattered by the sea wind. She reached up and gathered the loose strands, tucking them behind her ear.

She wore a deep blue cloak, a silver brooch pinned at the collar, three dragons entwined together, their eyes two tiny chips of ruby.

"Can't count them all," Tyrion said honestly. "But I'm estimating. It's the one thing I do better than your husband. I can do arithmetic."

Daenerys glanced at him, the corner of her mouth curving slightly. "You think Drogo can't do arithmetic?"

"He can't tell ten thousand from a thousand." Tyrion shrugged.

"His knowledge is vast." Daenerys turned and leaned her back against the battlements, the wind catching the edges of her cloak. "He implemented the Thousand-Man Commander system across the Dothraki Sea. Military strength increased enormously."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"He also established the Provincial Governor system," she continued. "Henan Province, Slaver's Bay — both run under his framework now. My kingdom won't need hereditary lords. I appoint governors, and they govern."

"He opened the trade route from the Dothraki Sea to the Free Cities as well. They call it the Silk Road. Goods from across Essos move through his territory without obstruction. The city-states along the route are collecting taxes until their hands go numb, and not one of them is complaining."

Tyrion was quiet for a moment. His fingers tapped absently on the battlements. "These things," he began slowly, choosing his words, "did Jorah Mormont advise Khal Drogo to do them? Or was it Barristan Selmy?"

Daenerys smiled and said nothing.

Tyrion stared at her face for 2 full seconds. Then he understood.

Jorah Mormont was an exiled knight. Barristan Selmy was an old soldier who had held a sword his entire life. Neither of them could have taught Drogo how to rule.

"We assumed too much," Tyrion said slowly. "In King's Landing, everyone credited Jorah Mormont and Barristan Selmy. We always thought Drogo was nothing more than a savage horse lord who only knew how to kill."

He said it, and felt his own face go warm. At the small council in King's Landing, whenever Khal Drogo came up, the words were always the same. Those savages. Horse-riding monkeys. Don't even wear shoes.

Not one person had stopped to think. A man who unified the Dothraki Sea, conquered Slaver's Bay, and held the commercial lifeline of an entire continent in his fist, how could he possibly be a brute?

Daenerys turned to look at the encampment below the walls. "So what is your estimate?"

Tyrion was quiet for a few seconds, his mind moving fast. Every patrol of soldiers passing below. Every loaded supply wagon. Every ship sitting in the harbor.

"Around Storm's End — roughly 10,000 Dothraki riders. 20,000 freedmen soldiers. 3,000 Unsullied, led by a man called Grey Worm." He paused. "Am I close?"

"You're smarter than I thought."

"Many people have said that," Tyrion said, with a thin smile. "Then they tried to take my head. So, Your Grace — how many men did Khal Drogo actually bring? Don't give me 'enough.' I'm a practical man. I want numbers."

Daenerys looked at him, a faint, unreadable smile at the corner of her lips.

"Why go to the trouble?" she said. "Drogo's numbers, Varys's little birds reported them to King's Landing long ago. No harm in telling you. That nephew of yours on the Iron Throne, and your father, they already know."

"After Drogo unified the Dothraki Sea, he established 95 Thousand-Man Commanders in total. For this invasion of Westeros, he brought 55 of them. Hundreds of thousands of horses."

"The main Dothraki force marched from the grasslands to Pentos, then crossed the sea from Pentos, landing at Dragonstone and Driftmark."

"Marched?" Tyrion asked. "From the Dothraki Sea to Pentos? How long did that take?"

"A very long time. But they have all arrived."

"Those who sailed over with Drogo are mostly freedmen recruited from Slaver's Bay and Henan Province. 80,000 in total. 20,000 are logistics, repairing weapons, building roads, constructing camps. The remaining 60,000 are combat soldiers."

"60,000 freedmen," Tyrion said, his voice dropping. "Plus 55,000 Dothraki cavalry. 6,000 Unsullied. 5,000 sellswords..."

"Westeros just finished the War of the Five Kings." He pressed his lips together. There was something reluctant in his tone, something that sounded almost like respect. "These numbers. They might actually be enough to take the Seven Kingdoms."

"More than that." Daenerys's tone shifted, turning serious. "Drogo has built an empire. Vast territories, an unshakable foundation, soldiers to spare. From Slaver's Bay to the Summer Sea, all the way to the Narrow Sea, the entire shipping lane has never been this busy. Troop transports, supply ships, grain ships, sailing day and night without stop. We came up the western side of the Narrow Sea, hugging the coast near Tyrosh, clear of the storms in the Sea of Dorne."

"Tyrosh?" Tyrion asked. "Those shrewd merchants let you pass?"

Daenerys's lips curved. "At the feast in Meereen celebrating Drogo becoming the sole Khal of the Dothraki Sea, he traded 17 letters of passage for the support of the Archons of Tyrosh. They even helped conceal the movements of our fleet."

"17 letters of passage to buy off a Free City." Tyrion let out a short breath. "Do you know what my father Tywin would think when he hears that? He'd be so furious his beard would catch fire."

Daenerys didn't respond. She looked toward the encampment below the castle. The soldiers had already marched out with Drogo.

"And you have 3 dragons besides." Tyrion had gone quiet in a way that meant he was shaken. "Aegon invaded Westeros with 3 dragons too, but his army was nothing like this."

"3 full-grown dragons," Daenerys said. "And they will keep growing."

Tyrion turned to look at her. Something complicated moved through his mismatched eyes.

"Perhaps not." His voice was even. "Dorne sent a messenger to King's Landing. They intend to kill your dragons before they grow any larger. You know the Dornish are capable of it. One crossbow bolt to a dragon's eye is all it takes."

He said it, and then went quiet. He watched her face, searching those violet eyes for a flicker of fear.

There was none.

She smiled. Faint, almost nothing, like a hairline crack splitting across the surface of winter ice.

"The Dornish can try," she said. "Rhaegal, Viserion, Drogon. They fly higher now. Faster. And smarter."

She turned and walked toward the steps.

➤ Next: The Griffin's Throat