A Song of Ice and Fire: Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon
Author: Read_and_Chill
Date: 2024-10-22T12:39:50.217000+00:00

Chapter 1: Prologue:

RUMBLE-CLOP, THUNDEROUS SHAKE,

SHUDDERING SLAM, SHUDDERING SLAM,

RUMBLE-CLOP, THUNDEROUS SHAKE,

SHUDDERING SLAM, SHUDDERING SLAM,

RUMBLE-CLOP THUNDEROUS SHAKE,

The deafening sound of galloping hooves filled the air, as tiny pebbles on the ground quivered and leaped.

A knight clad in resplendent armor held a bloodied spear, the impaled body at its tip flung onto the riverbank.

In the setting sun's glow, the red gemstone on his chest and the blood on his spear shimmered, making him appear like a god of war.

At this moment, he heard the sound of charging warhorses, lifting his head slightly in surprise, seemingly caught off guard.

Both sides of the skirmish were already exhausted when a troop of heavily armored riders in black plate appeared like a volley of crossbow bolts, brutally charging into the battlefield with unstoppable momentum. In an instant— Boom— Shouts and screams filled the riverbank, accompanied by the sound of blade piercing flesh and horses' bones being shattered.

Leading the heavy cavalry was a black-armored knight, built like a mountain. His face was concealed behind his visor, but through the narrow slits, one could barely see a pair of eyes burning with rage and his snarling, yellowed teeth.

Anyone who approached him could feel his fury, scattering and fleeing in terror. As the battle neared its end, this fully armed cavalry unit charged in, shattering the morale of one side of the war.

The black-armored knight, wearing a helm adorned with antlers, wielded a massive spiked mace that even two or three grown men would struggle to lift, charged directly at the commander's banner of the royal army.

He wanted to tear apart the man beneath that royal banner: the knight wearing the resplendent armor, the red gemstone shimmering on his chest.

He was the commander of the royal army, and a prince of House Targaryen. Rhaegar Targaryen. He had violated and abducted his betrothed. This was the catalyst for the rebellion that began in 281 AC. As a result of King Aerys II's cruel rule, the rebellion escalated by 283 AC, engulfing the entire continent of Westeros.

Four of the Seven Kingdoms under the Targaryen dynasty raised their banners in revolt: the Vale, the Stormlands, the North, and the Riverlands formed a powerful alliance against the Iron Throne. The black-armored knight, Robert Baratheon, using his grandmother's bloodline as the daughter of Aegon V, Rhaelle, became the leader of the rebels, openly vying for the throne.

Now— After a prolonged struggle on the battlefield, the once-fearless Prince Rhaegar was also exhausted. His silver hair clung to his sweat-soaked, handsome face, and his dark purple eyes, initially filled with surprise, returned to determination.

Prince Targaryen held his spear in one hand, and with the other, he drew the sword from his waist, fearlessly accepting his opponent's challenge. The commander at the center of the whirlwind of war engaged in a one-on-one duel.

However, when Robert raised his heavy spiked mace, the outcome was already determined. Boom— The powerful impact sent Rhaegar Targaryen tumbling off his horse.

His sword had pierced through a gap in Robert's armor and struck his thigh, but Robert's mace had viciously crushed Rhaegar's chest, collapsing the magnificent breastplate.

Shattered red gemstones, tainted with the noble blood of House Targaryen, scattered across the banks of the Trident River, reflecting a sinister light in the brilliant sunshine.

The exhausted soldiers from both sides, seeing this scene, stopped fighting, dropped their weapons, and swarmed the riverbank to claim the shattered fragments of the red gemstone.

Toot—

With a long, desolate horn call on the battlefield, the rebel army launched their final attack. The royal army was completely routed, scattering in all directions.

...

...

The Battle of the Trident had come to an end. The dreadful news quickly spread.

Tread, tread...

Hasty footsteps echoed throughout the Red Keep, as servants whispered to each other in the corridors.

King Aerys II Targaryen, seated on the Iron Throne, was furious. Although he had already received a secret message the day before, he still ordered the soldier who brought the news to be burned alive, loudly accusing him of lying about the state of the war and harboring ulterior motives. However, in addition to the smell of charred flesh, a heavy atmosphere still permeated the throne room.

All the councilors present knew what the death of Prince Rhaegar and the collapse of the royal army's main force meant at this time.

Though Aerys was dubbed the Mad King, as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, he still had moments of clarity. After his rage, his face remained pale, and the veins on his withered hands bulged as he gripped the arms of the Iron Throne tightly.

Finally, Aerys seemed to make up his mind, turning to the young Kingsguard behind him, and with a low, solemn voice, he called, "Jaime!"

The tall, handsome, golden-haired knight standing behind the king hesitated slightly when he heard the king call his name, then quickly stepped to the side of the Iron Throne, resting a hand on his sword, and bowing to receive orders.

Clatter...

The sound of armor rubbing together filled the room.

"Your Grace."

He had not expected the king to suddenly call upon him. As the youngest member of the Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister had always been somewhat invisible.

He knew full well that King Aerys II had allowed him to join the Kingsguard not out of admiration for his bravery and loyalty but simply to restrain and humiliate his father.

However, he had forgotten that Aerys II's Kingsguard had already accompanied Prince Rhaegar to participate in the war to quell the rebellion, leaving only him.

Now, King Aerys had only him to rely on.

Though Aerys held no love for the golden-haired Lannisters, he had no choice but to rein in his emotions, as he still needed to count on Jaime's father, the Lord Paramount of Casterly Rock, to bring the Westerland armies to suppress the rebellion.

The white-cloaked knight, with his hand on his sword, bowed beside the Iron Throne, listening to the king's whispered instructions, his young face slightly tense.

He had not expected things to come to this point.

Although Prince Rhaegar had died in the Battle of the Trident, tipping the balance of the war in a terrible direction, the Targaryen royal family still had powerful forces. In particular, there was his father, the ever-ready Western army, which would not make it easy for the rebels to breach King's Landing.

However, he had not expected the king to begin preparing an escape route.

"What are you waiting for?"

As Jaime hesitated, the man on the Iron Throne, whose emotions had clearly spiraled out of control, fixed his gloomy eyes on the young Kingsguard, as if he wanted to see through his heart. Jaime swallowed slightly, then immediately straightened up, taking a step back, the armor rattling.

He would not forget that Aerys II's favorite way of dealing with subjects was to burn them alive.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Then he quickly walked from the passageway behind the Iron Throne and headed deep into the Red Keep to deliver the king's orders."

Chapter 2: Chapter 1 : Viserys

Outside the room, the pitter-patter of footsteps echoed through the corridor, as a figure approached the spacious bedroom on the second floor of the tower.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, revealing a faint candlelight from within. A small figure sat at a round table in the center of the room, one hand propping up their chin. Their silver hair enveloped their ears, and their gem-like violet eyes reflected the flickering candlelight.

He was Viserys Targaryen, the second son of King Aerys II, only seven years old.

Lately, the usually active Viserys had been inexplicably staring at the candlelight, lost in thought, and uncharacteristically locking himself in his room to read the books he once loathed.

This situation had persisted for several days.

The wrinkles on the face of the old maid standing outside the bedroom door deepened, and worry flickered in her dull eyes.

As a servant who had served the Targaryen royal family for generations, she was concerned that Viserys might suffer from mental problems, just like his father, the 'Mad King.'

After all, 'every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin to decide whether they will be great or mad.'

However, the old maid's gaze did not awaken Viserys, who remained lost in thought. Half of his beautiful, girlish face was shrouded in darkness. Dressed in the fine attire of a prince, one hand rested on the heavy parchment book, pondering his past and present life.

"Your Highness."

The old maid knocked twice on the doorframe and spoke softly. Her voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet Red Keep.

The Targaryen prince shuddered like a startled bird, suddenly waking up. His light purple eyes looked at the maid anxiously.

After a pause.

He remembered that he was indeed 'His Highness,' the only person in this room, and the old maid seemed to be called... Sophia.

"What's the matter?"

Viserys saw the old maid's figure, shook his head slightly, cast away his chaotic thoughts, and looked at her seriously.

"The Queen seeks you."

Dressed in dark servant attire and wearing a gray headscarf, the maid's wrinkled forehead relaxed as she saw the prince awaken.

"Mother?"

Viserys hesitated for a moment, his heart skipped a beat, but he still closed the parchment book and slid off the chair, attempting to maintain composure.

According to the confused memories in his head, his current identity's mother was named Rhaella Targaryen, a gentle and kind woman who had been working tirelessly to protect Viserys from his mentally unstable father.

However, Viserys had been avoiding meeting his mother, fearing he might slip up in some way.

So he had locked himself in his room to read books, partly to gain more knowledge and partly to avoid meeting Rhaella.

But he hadn't expected his mother to suddenly seek him out at this time.

"I understand."

Viserys' face tensed up a bit, trying to appear calm. His acting skills were on point, and hardly anyone could see any flaws. Even if they did, they wouldn't think much of it since he was just a seven-year-old boy.

Next, Viserys stood in front of the silver mirror in his bedroom, while the maid stood behind him, fixing his clothes.

Meeting the Queen required etiquette, even if Viserys was her own son. Noble and courtly manners were deeply ingrained in his memory and muscles.

Viserys glanced at the maid behind him, noticed everything was normal, and looked back at the mirror.

A dark mist gradually spread.

[Viserys Targaryen]

Sun Affinity: 3

Earth Affinity: 5

Water Affinity: 8

Moon Affinity: 18

These words were all displayed in the ancient High Valyrian language.

The Targaryen family, as survivors of the Valyrian civilization, had High Valyrian as their mother tongue, not the Common Tongue of Westeros.

Every Targaryen child received education in Valyrian and the Dragon Tongue.

These affinities could also be translated as Sun, Earth, Water, and Moon.

But right now...

Everything seemed normal.

Viserys wasn't surprised since he had discovered this dark mist a few days ago.

Whenever he stared at any reflective surface for three seconds, this dense black mist appeared.

Of course, he tried more objects: mirrors, glass, gems, and even daggers. However, dimly lit stones and wooden tables didn't produce the mist.

And he also tested multiple times that others couldn't see the mist, only he was special, just like this world full of mysterious powers, indescribable.

"Maybe this is some kind of... magic?"

Viserys was puzzled, and after searching through books for days, he still couldn't find an answer.

He gradually figured out the meaning of these terms, reflecting his current physical condition.

Sun affinity represented strength, Earth affinity represented endurance, Water affinity represented agility and flexibility, and Moon affinity represented his will, or even more mysterious mental power.

A normal adult male's stats should be between 8-10, and he didn't rule out the possibility of stronger individuals.

As for why Viserys' stats were so peculiar, it might be related to his age of only seven, with his body not yet fully developed.

But his agility and flexibility were legit. In his memory, Viserys could outrun several guards in the Red Keep but never get caught.

"Moon Affinity... 18."

Viserys stared at the silver mirror, blinking gently.

This ability far exceeded that of an ordinary person, possibly due to his unique nature, making him a one-of-a-kind being in this world.

But having exceptional mental power indeed brought some advantages, such as an extraordinary memory.

These days, he hid in his room reading books, and while he wasn't exactly eidetic, he remembered deeply after reading twice.

And he never felt tired even when staying up late.

"Is something bothering you, Your Highness?"

The old maid fixing Viserys' clothes had been observing the prince's expression. She noticed his light purple eyes seemed a bit lost when looking at the silver mirror, as if out of focus.

Then he pursed his lips, looking deeply troubled.

"No."

"Thank you for your concern, Sofia."

Hearing the old maid, Viserys shook his head slightly and spoke.

"It seems like this is the first time you've thanked me..."

The old woman, her head wrapped in a scarf, covered her mouth in surprise. Viserys' expression stiffened for a moment, and he opened his mouth, seemingly at a loss for words.

Silence filled the Prince's bedroom.

After a while, Viserys collected his emotions and took the initiative to break the silence. The old maid had just finished fixing his clothes.

"So... has Mother mentioned why she wants to see me?"

Viserys casually asked, but with a hint of probing.

The old maid hesitated for a moment. She knew the reason, of course. The news of the Targaryen royal army's defeat and Prince Rhaegar's death had spread throughout the Red Keep, even reaching all of King's Landing.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, this boy would become Viserys Targaryen III in the future.

However, all of this was based on the condition that the Targaryens could hold onto the Iron Throne. Otherwise, the fate awaiting Viserys...

Would be extremely cruel.

Viserys looked at the old maid expectantly, hoping to get some information from her.

But ultimately, all Viserys got was disappointment.

The old woman with the gray headscarf sighed, her wrinkles piling up, and then shook her head calmly.

"No."

Chapter 2: Escaping King's Landing

Swiftly.

The old maidservant led Viserys down from the Maegor's Holdfast to the ballroom on the first floor.

This ballroom within Maegor's Holdfast was primarily used for royal banquets and dances, and could accommodate over a hundred guests.

Arched windows let sunlight stream in, casting light onto the silver mirrors inside the ballroom. Rows of lit candles flickered gently, making the entire space bright and welcoming.

On the second floor of the ballroom was a long corridor, with thick walls adorned with intricate wood carvings and exquisite brocade silks. The Targaryen family's three-headed dragon banners hung on either side of the entrance.

In fact, Maegor's Holdfast was like a castle within a castle, located in the heart of the Red Keep, boasting twelve-foot-thick walls and a moat. As a royal residence, its defenses were naturally impregnable.

Viserys followed the old maidservant into the ballroom and found that quite a few guards had already gathered, tending to their equipment and weapons.

Viserys and the maidservant drew their attention, but only for a moment before they continued with their tasks.

"Your Highness."

A middle-aged man with gray-black hair, clad in leather armor and riding breeches, was polishing his longsword. Seeing Viserys enter, he nodded slightly in greeting.

Another Kingsguard in a white cloak turned his head towards Viserys upon hearing the voice.

Feeling the gazes of the two knights, Viserys tensed slightly, his fingers gripping his sleeve, but he appeared calm and politely greeted them.

"Hello."

"Ser William."

Ser William Darry was the master-at-arms of the Red Keep, responsible for training the guards in combat skills and formations. He was highly skilled in battle, which was necessary for such an important position.

His brother, Ser Jonothor Darry, was a member of the Kingsguard who had accompanied Prince Rhaegar during the rebellion. His fate remained unknown following the Battle of the Trident.

Viserys then turned to the young Kingsguard and nodded in greeting.

"Ser Jaime."

The white-cloaked knight didn't say a word, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and his gaze seemed to assess Viserys with curiosity.

Despite being a recent addition to the Kingsguard, Jaime wasn't very familiar with the members of House Targaryen, especially the second prince.

But since they all lived in the Red Keep, they saw each other often, and Jaime sensed something different about Viserys today – as if he stood taller, yet appeared more humble.

Jaime gripped the hilt of his sword and then looked away.

Viserys didn't pay attention to the stares, although his heart raced a bit faster. He seemed to find some resilience in the face of adversity, a trait he had carried through his past life and into this one.

Viserys approached the seat in the center of the hall, where a silver-haired woman in ornate clothing sat. He didn't look up directly but bowed slightly in respect.

"Mother."

The atmosphere in the ballroom remained solemn and heavy, but he didn't know what had happened.

"Viserys."

Then, a weary voice sounded above Viserys's head.

Queen Rhaella reached out, her arm encircling the boy's waist, and gently embraced her son. She then leaned her head against the side of his face.

"My child…"

"There's something terrible I must tell you…"

Viserys could clearly feel his mother's body trembling slightly, her voice revealing that the strong woman had reached her breaking point.

Beneath her velvet gown were swollen bruises, bite marks, and scratches - remnants of the previous night when her frenzied husband had left his mark upon her in their bedchamber. Still, Rhaella Targaryen, a resilient woman, persevered.

Although the news of her eldest son's death and the nation's peril brought her immense sorrow, compounded by the emotional and physical trauma she endured the night before, Rhaella knew she had to pull herself together for Viserys and the child she carried within her.

Fortunately, her husband retained some sanity amidst his madness, realizing the situation was perhaps beyond salvation. He urgently ordered a group of Red Keep guards to escort Queen Rhaella and his second son, Viserys, to the safety of Dragonstone.

King Aerys II himself would remain in King's Landing, preparing to fight the enemy to the bitter end. He would not hand over the capital to the rebels without a desperate struggle.

As the rebels were not far from King's Landing, they had already received news that Tywin Lannister, the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, ruler of Casterly Rock, and the King's old friend, had decided to raise an army for the King. Yet, since nothing was certain, it was prudent to escort the Queen and the Prince away from the troubled capital first.

…

Splash—

Fully armed soldiers stood guard as handmaidens helped the heavily pregnant Queen Rhaella, who had trouble walking, into the carriage. The curtains were drawn, sealing the carriage tightly.

Viserys followed his mother, preparing to board the second carriage.

At that moment, a minor incident occurred within the procession.

A brown-haired little girl appeared out of nowhere. The guards, unaware of her identity, turned a blind eye.

Sir William, the commander of the procession, hesitated for a moment before sighing, ultimately choosing to remain silent as well.

The brown-haired girl approached Viserys's carriage, tugging at his clothes and looking up at him with a cute face, as if asking where they were going and why she couldn't join them.

"We're going…"

Viserys recognized the girl from his memories but hesitated, clenching his fists.

He was well aware that he didn't fully understand the situation and, logically, should not create any additional complications.

However…

The silver-haired boy gritted his teeth and, in the end, made a bold decision. He grabbed the little girl's hand and pulled her into the carriage.

Following close behind, a small black cat effortlessly jumped onto the carriage roof.

"Hey! Balerion!"

The girl shouted excitedly in the carriage but was immediately silenced by Viserys's hand over her mouth.

"Mmmph…"

The boy glanced nervously outside the carriage, then drew the curtains once more, whispering into her ear.

"Hey…"

"Be quiet for now, Rhaenys."

Finally.

Rumble—

With the sound of wheels rolling on the cobblestone road and the soft tapping of horse hooves on the ground, the knights tightly gripped their weapons. The procession hurriedly escorted the two carriages out of the castle gates.

Leaving the Red Keep, they headed towards the distant horizon.

Chapter 3: Dragonslayer

...

Before Viserys helped Rhaenys onto the carriage, he glanced back to see a woman with a child in her arms standing at an open window in the Maegor's Tower.

Her brown hair and black eyes, her delicate frame swaying slightly in the wind, and the infant in swaddling clothes she cradled in her arms.

Viserys knew her as his brother's wife, his sister-in-law Elia Martell, the Princess of Dorne, and the baby in her arms as his nephew Aegon Targaryen.

His mind, however, was hazy, and with a strained spirit, he accepted that they would have to face exile upon entering this world. He held the little girl in his arms, trying to keep her calm.

He had no time to ponder why his father kept Elia and her children captive in King's Landing.

They could have had the chance to escape with him.

But as the rebel forces closed in, staying in King's Landing meant danger. Viserys made a last-minute, risky decision to take Rhaenys with him just before their departure.

He didn't know if his father would send troops to chase them down.

Or if his small act of altering history, flapping the wings of a butterfly, would bring about any unforeseen consequences.

Yet, he did what little he could, at least to appease his conscience.

If gold cloaks came later to forcibly take Rhaenys away, he might not have the courage to stand in their way.

"Let's go!"

Elia, standing in Maegor's Tower, saw her daughter escape by a stroke of luck with Viserys' carriage and leave the Red Keep. Her already frail body swayed slightly, tears welled up in her eyes, and a single crystalline tear traced down her cheek.

She had a feeling that this would be her final farewell to her daughter.

...

Owing to the recent unrest at sea, storms had been brewing.

Originally, the convoy meant to escort the queen and prince could have sailed from King's Landing straight to Dragonstone, but under the careful consideration of Ser William, they chose to travel by land to minimize the time spent at sea.

The news of the king burning soldiers alive hadn't been suppressed, and the Red Keep was already full of holes. The word had spread throughout King's Landing that the royal army had been defeated, and Rhaegar Targaryen was dead.

The rebel forces were aggressively approaching the city.

Panic had spread among the million-plus residents of the city, and the dark clouds of war loomed over King's Landing.

The convoy departed from the Red Keep, passed Aegon's High Hill, and fully armed soldiers dispersed the chaotic crowd along the way.

There were no Targaryen sigils on the carriages, the curtains were drawn, and it was impossible to see which noble was seated inside.

"Make way!"

The soldiers urged their horses to disperse pedestrians on the street, and their whips came down without mercy.

Crack—

The noisy, disorderly crowd suddenly became orderly under the whip's lashes, wailing as they were pushed to the sides of the road, clearing a path for the convoy.

The carriage of Queen Rhaella led the way, followed closely by Viserys and Rhaenys' carriage.

The boy's fingers gently pulled back a small gap in the curtains, revealing the outside scenery. The carriage, escorted by soldiers, navigated through the narrow streets. Looking up, he could see a hill overlooking King's Landing in the distance, where the Targaryens' dragon pit stood.

"That's Rhaenys Hill," he whispered.

Seated in the carriage, Viserys tried to find a topic to distract little Rhaenys, who was excitedly under the impression that they were going on a day trip. The landmark bearing her name was undoubtedly the best topic for the two youngsters.

As expected, the brown-haired girl, cradling her small black cat Balerion, looked over with anticipation. However, she was disappointed to learn that the hill was not built by her loving father just for her.

Viserys racked his brain to recall the knowledge he had gleaned from history books, thankful for his eidetic memory. He then told the little girl the story that took place more than two centuries ago, about the ancestor conqueror Aegon and his sister-queen Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Hill was named by her husband, Aegon Targaryen, in memory of his sister who had fallen in battle. He had also built a memorial chapel, but it was later destroyed during a rebellion and replaced by a dragon pit.

The brown-haired little girl listened intently, cradling her kitten. Hearing about the fate of the queen who shared her name, she couldn't help but shed a few tears.

"In the future, I also want to find a husband who loves me like that," Rhaenys said, her eyes reddening as she sniffled. She seemed to immerse herself in the story, associating her fate with that of Queen Rhaenys. After all, they shared the same name, making it easy to empathize and imagine.

Being at the innocent and romantic age where she loved stories and daydreaming, she also had some expectations for the future. However, she was not yet aware of her father's death. The name Rhaenys seemed cursed, and her fate was not much better than that of the young queen two centuries ago, leaving little room for sympathy.

At three or four years old, she had not yet received strict court etiquette education. As a result, she forgot to address Viserys as "uncle" and instead called him "brother" or by his name due to their similar ages.

"He might even bravely slay a dragon for me," she said, her face and delicate chin defiant, even though her eyes glistened with tears. Her unrealistic fantasy was nevertheless endearing, making it hard not to smile.

Viserys wore an awkward yet polite smile on his face.

The carriage wheels rumbled as they rolled, signaling that they were not far from leaving King's Landing. Their pursuers sent by her father had not caught up, indicating that he had tacitly allowed Viserys to take Rhaenys away.

Regardless of why her father had detained Princess Elia Martell and her son, possessing someone more important made the presence or absence of a little girl like Rhaenys inconsequential, especially since she was his granddaughter.

Viserys felt much more at ease. He reached out to ruffle the brown hair inherited from her mother. As her hair became increasingly messy, he finally spoke.

"There are no dragons left in the world, Rhaenys."

"The last one died over a century ago."

As he spoke, Viserys looked at Rhaenys Hill in the distance, silently thinking to himself. If the Targaryen family still had dragons, perhaps they wouldn't be in such a predicament.

Chapter 4: Swordplay

Subsequently,

Two carriages without any house sigils, escorted by soldiers, made their way through King's Landing. Instead of passing through the grand Iron Gate, they chose a more discreet route, leaving the city through the Dragon Gate.

The convoy embarked on the Rosby Road, heading toward Duskendale, where Ser William had decided to sail to Dragonstone. Meanwhile, a ship also departed from King's Landing's port to serve as a decoy.

The middle-aged master-at-arms had his reasons. He was well aware that even within the Red Keep, spies from various factions had infiltrated every corner.

Any news discussed among the King's council in the morning could find its way to the dingiest Flea Bottom tavern by afternoon. It would be a miracle if the news of the Queen and the Prince's relocation could be kept under wraps.

After careful consideration, Ser William devised a deceptive plan. Sailing straight from King's Landing to Dragonstone would undoubtedly be the best route, even with the recent increase in storms at sea. Alternatively, traveling by land to Duskendale and then sailing to Dragonstone was also an option.

However, Westeros was now fragmented and full of rebellion. Once they left King's Landing, there was no guarantee of safety. He knew that choosing the land route was not without risks.

"By the Seven."

The master-at-arms from the Red Keep rubbed his brow with his rough fingers, a gesture thought to touch the soul and convey sincerity in prayer to the gods.

"May everything go smoothly."

...

Time flew quickly.

A day later,

After half a day's travel and a night's rest, the party passed through Rosby, continuing down the Kingsroad toward the port of Duskendale.

The port was part of the loyal Leek family's territory, with the steadfast Earl of River run defending Duskendale, an unimportant harbor, for His Majesty. Although the middle-aged master-at-arms wasn't entirely confident in the Earl's loyalty, he considered those who had yet to betray the King amidst the current wave of rebellion as loyal enough.

Today's weather was gloomy.

The carriage curtains were drawn slightly, allowing only a dim light to enter. A drizzle pattered on the carriage roof, turning the roads muddy and difficult to traverse. The carriage swayed from side to side.

Viserys looked out the carriage window at the obscured scenery, with trees along the road shrouded in a hazy veil of rain. The cool breeze that hit his face made his heart feel heavy and stifled.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"Ser William."

The silver-haired boy shifted his gaze from the scenery outside to the man sitting across from him, while Rhaenys sat obediently next to him, holding a cat.

At this moment, the clever young girl understood that this was no pleasure trip. Her grandmother would never risk traveling in such weather.

In the same carriage, Ser William Darry sat across from Viserys, staring out the window in silence. Now fully armored, with a sword and a short spear at his waist, he contemplated whether or not he should share some troubling news with the young prince.

The ship that had departed King's Landing with them had been attacked by an unidentified group of pirates before even leaving Blackwater Bay. It had likely met with disaster.

When the messenger from King's Landing arrived earlier that morning with the news, Ser William felt a chill down his spine.

Although he had long known that the Red Keep was full of holes and breezes, he did not expect the rebel army to uncover his plans so quickly. To his knowledge, the allied forces of the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands didn't have a strong naval presence, with only a few seaworthy vessels. Otherwise, the blockade at Windfall Castle by the Greenstone Fleet would have been lifted by now.

Fortunately, he had been cautious and chose not to take the route everyone deemed safe via water. Instead, he hid the queen and prince in a sealed, inconspicuous carriage, and they discreetly left King's Landing.

By now, the enemy must have known that Queen Rhaella and Viserys had not taken the water route.

"Your Highness need not worry; the soldiers are ready for battle," Sir William said gravely, sitting in the carriage with one hand on his sword hilt.

"Still, we should move faster," Viserys nodded, not knowing the dire news at sea or what Sir William was thinking. He was already quite satisfied sitting in the carriage, lined with soft fur, compared to the soldiers outside.

"I understand."

...

Soon, it was dusk again.

After a day's journey, coupled with the day's dismal weather—a constant drizzle that turned the road into a muddy mess—everyone was exhausted.

Just as things seemed to be at their worst, the axle of Queen Rhaella's carriage suddenly broke, perhaps because it had struck a stone. The horse let out a pained neigh, nearly collapsing, but Sir William and a few soldiers quickly grabbed it, removing its bridle and allowing it to rest.

Queen Rhaella and her two handmaidens clumsily crawled out of the carriage. Fortunately, the rain had momentarily ceased.

However, the incident forced the party to halt temporarily. Sir William had previously ordered everyone to hasten their journey, shortening rest periods. Both soldiers and horses were physically drained.

With a temporary reprieve ordered, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Viserys hopped down from the carriage, offering the intact one to his disheveled mother, and decided to stretch his legs.

Although the carriage was more comfortable than what others had, he was still worn out from the day. The roads in this era weren't smooth, and the carriage lacked effective shock absorption.

He saw Sir William, leaning on his sword hilt, standing before the abandoned carriage. The silver-haired boy hesitated briefly before approaching him.

"Sir William," Viserys said politely, "May I ask you to teach me swordsmanship?"

The silent William Darry, caught off guard by the prince's request, was momentarily stunned.

"Why do you have such a thought, Your Highness?"

The middle-aged master-at-arms couldn't help but recall events from over a decade ago, when a young boy obsessed with books and the harp suddenly approached him, demanding a sword and armor, declaring he must become a warrior.

He did indeed become one of the most skilled knights in Westeros—Viserys' elder brother, Rhaegar Targaryen.

"I am seven years old, old enough to begin a knight's training," the silver-haired boy said, looking up but not directly answering the question.

"And I will need it in the future, won't I?"

Chapter 5: Ambushed at Dawn

Upon the prince's request, the disheveled-haired man agreed without much hesitation.

As Viserys said, the future always held its use.

The situation was not too great at the moment...

He had once taught Rhaegar, and now he was teaching Viserys. Both Targaryen brothers could call him a teacher, a matter of pride indeed.

But now was merely a time for rest during their journey; there wasn't much he could teach.

Regardless, the basics remained the same for knights riding into battle on horseback and warriors fighting on foot.

The middle-aged master-at-arms hesitated for a moment, then unsheathed his sword from his waist.

Clang—

The shiny blade was somewhat dazzling, and the sound of the sword leaving its scabbard caught the attention of many resting soldiers, including Queen Rhaella, who was sitting in the carriage tidying her clothes. Rhaenys, too, peered out from the carriage window at the silver-haired boy beneath a nearby tree.

"Viserys."

"Sir William is quite tired, don't bother him."

Queen Rhaella in the carriage furrowed her brows slightly, then spoke in a worried tone.

A pair of light purple eyes captured Viserys' wavering figure as he struggled to hold the heavy longsword.

She was more concerned about whether Viserys would get hurt.

The weight of a sword wasn't much, but it took considerable strength to wield it effortlessly. For a seven-year-old boy, just past the age for beginning knight training, it was still a bit of a struggle.

This was the foundation of knightly training.

"It's no trouble, Your Grace."

The disheveled-haired middle-aged man heard Queen Rhaella's words, turned his head to look at her, and spoke with a slight bow.

"It's just a little toy, after all. Every boy must eventually lift it."

Many soldiers sitting on rocks or leaning against trees nearby laughed in agreement.

"That's right, Your Grace."

As guards within the Red Keep, they knew Queen Rhaella was gentle and kind. Without her intervention, many more would have been burned alive by her husband.

William Darry had been the master-at-arms in the Red Keep for many years, having trained her eldest son Rhaegar. Queen Rhaella hesitated for a moment but ultimately chose to remain silent.

She believed that Sir William knew his limits and would not let Viserys get hurt.

And he was right; in this era, a boy was destined to lift this 'little toy' to protect his loved ones without hesitation.

Then, the middle-aged master-at-arms looked down at the struggling boy holding the sword, his smile fading slightly.

"Your Highness, at your age, you should be practicing with a wooden sword."

"But these are special times, so we'll use my sword."

As the Red Keep's master-at-arms, William Darry was highly skilled and had trained many formidable warriors and knights, which was why Viserys had sought his tutelage.

No one was better suited to teach him self-defense than William Darry.

Viserys nodded at Sir William's words, still struggling to control the sword and keep it from falling to the ground.

The master-at-arms observed Viserys' efforts with some satisfaction, nodding internally.

By the Seven.

Viserys was not much inferior to his elder brother, at least in terms of attitude.

Then he continued, drawing a longsword from the waist of another soldier seated beside him.

"Be it spear, lance, or sword, these weapons all have one technique that is the simplest, yet most effective."

The middle-aged master-at-arms looked indifferently at Viserys, and then thrust the longsword straight out.

Due to the force behind it, the thrust carried with it the sound of cutting through air.

"Learn to use the pointy end to stab your enemy."

Fast, accurate, ruthless.

Seize the opportunity to pierce the enemy's throat with a single strike.

After demonstrating, the master-at-arms returned the sword to the soldier beside him and turned to face Viserys.

"Have you learned it, child?"

Viserys nodded slightly.

"Is it simple?"

He then continued to ask.

He understood children like this very well - restless when they first began training, hoping to become a child king, invincible in a matter of days.

However, in reality, it would take them years, if not decades, of hard training to become an outstanding knight.

Like this simplest "thrust," which he still practiced repeatedly, striving for the ultimate speed, accuracy, and ruthlessness, rather than the many intricate, dizzying techniques.

Those had no use beyond their spectacle.

However, when Viserys heard Sir William's question while holding the sword, he hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

He wasn't a child; he could tell this question was a trap, and he certainly wouldn't foolishly jump into it, getting scolded for no reason. So, Viserys answered.

"Not simple."

"Well, you're mista..."

Sir William opened his mouth, but then stopped halfway, swallowing his words, taken aback by Viserys not following the expected script, leaving him at a loss.

"Was I wrong?"

Viserys tilted his head, somewhat puzzled.

"No, you were right."

Sir William patted his chest, recovering his breath, and then spoke grumpily.

Not far away, Rhaenys leaned against the carriage window and saw this scene, her beautiful eyes curved like crescents, unable to hold back her giggling.

She thought Viserys must have done it on purpose.

Then she saw the disheveled middle-aged man pat Viserys on the shoulder, telling him to practice the straightforward thrusting technique a few times, while also training his wrist strength. For now, Viserys lifting the sword still seemed a bit difficult, wobbly.

Afterward, Sir William hitched up his pants and headed toward the nearby woods, intending to relieve himself. Due to the presence of ladies, he needed to go a little farther away.

At that moment,

The corner of the master-at-arms' eye caught a large flock of birds suddenly taking flight in the direction they had come from.

"Huh?"

The man stopped in his tracks, a sudden sense of unease flooding his mind.

At the same time,

He also felt the ground tremble slightly, and the sound of galloping hooves gradually grew louder.

Rumble—

From far to near, the sound intensified, like rolling thunder.

The soldiers resting on the ground also reacted, picking up their weapons one after another.

"Enemy attack!!!"

The lookout soldier atop a nearby hill also shouted loudly.

Chapter 7: Chapter 6 - Skirmish

A gloomy sky weighed heavily upon the hearts of the people, a persistent gloom that refused to be dispelled.

The drizzle had lessened.

Yet, the enemy's assault came like a sudden downpour, like a violent gust of wind. Horse hooves trampled the ground, long swords and spears held high, charging towards the carriage protected by the guards at its center.

All the enemies wore black cloth over their faces, concealing their identities by removing their family crests from their armor.

The lead knight held a long spear tucked under his arm, its sharp tip slightly lowered, the cold glint of the spearhead aimed directly at the Red Keep's guards.

With black cloth wrapped around his cheeks, only a pair of eyes were visible, as a deep, muted growl sounded out word by word.

"Kill! Them! All!"

Like thunder.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The next second, iron hooves thundered, rushing forward.

The purpose of these masked attackers was crystal clear; they were determined to bring death to Queen Raela and her child.

Queen Raela and her handmaidens were stunned by the sudden attack, barely able to comprehend what was happening.

"Ambush!"

Among them, the battle-hardened Sir William was the first to react.

But at this moment, he had no longsword in his hand and could only unfasten the short throwing spear he was skilled with from his waist, aimed at the enemy in the lead, and threw it with all his might.

Whoosh!

The short spear burst through the air with a resounding sound.

The lead masked attacker, caught off guard, was struck directly in the chest by the throwing spear.

Bang!

The hard breastplate was not penetrated, but a deep dent was left.

The masked knight, not gripping his horse tightly with his legs, had the balance of his charge disrupted by the powerful impact of the spear. He was thrown off his horse by the tremendous force.

Thud.

Dust and smoke rose, the masked knight fell in a heap, his foot entangled in the stirrup. He was forcibly dragged for several meters by the horse before he managed to struggle free.

The experienced cavalrymen following him immediately noticed this unexpected development, swerved to avoid their fallen 'lord,' and continued their charge.

Otherwise, the unfortunate knight would have been trampled into a bloody pulp by the ruthless iron hooves.

And with this spear, the prelude to the ambush on the highway began.

"Kill them!"

In an instant, the sounds of battle echoed throughout the highway and the surrounding woods, like thunder. The Red Keep's guards, who had just been resting, were caught off guard by the attack and quickly found themselves at a disadvantage.

Several soldiers were either sent flying by the charging horses or had their throats slit before they could even stand up.

Blood spattered, screams filled the air, and some soldiers even dropped their weapons and fled into the woods in an attempt to escape.

However, the recently unhorsed masked knight had already struggled to his feet.

His leg seemed broken, and he had lost track of his long spear. He used the sheath of his side sword to prop himself up, laboriously standing up with a limp.

His eyes betrayed an unmistakable humiliation.

For the shame of being unhorsed had plagued him for half his life.

He had once been defeated in a team event at a tourney in King's Landing by a red-robed monk from Myr. The reason? The monk had wielded a flaming sword that spooked his warhorse, causing the honorable knight to suffer the disgrace of being thrown from his steed.

Unexpectedly, today he found himself falling from his horse again, this time seemingly breaking his leg in the process.

The masked, limping knight struggled to stand, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Pain surged through his leg like a dull knife carving flesh, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Yet, he gritted his teeth, enduring the pain. His hawk-like eyes remained sharp and vigilant, meticulously scanning the entire battlefield.

He spotted several Red Keep guards attempting to flee with the queen and the prince. With a wave of his hand, he pointed towards them and issued a decisive order.

"Kill them all!"

"Don't let a single one escape!"

Before the Usurper's War began, his family had not declared their allegiance, wavering between the rebels and the Iron Throne.

However, since the Battle of the Trident, the royal heir had been slain, and the situation had become clearer. House Targaryen's hold was waning, and his family had lost faith in the Iron Throne. At the same time, they had found the perfect opportunity to intervene in the war and reap the rewards of victory.

Now, the heads of Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys would serve as the perfect tokens of allegiance to the rebel camp.

But for various reasons, they could not yet reveal their identities.

So, with the limping knight's command, several masked 'bandits' with trained efficiency detached themselves from the battlefield.

Thundering hooves churned the muddy ground as the masked attackers rode their steeds, brandishing bloodied swords.

With no hesitation, they urged their horses through the underbrush and foliage, disappearing into the woods. Their goal was to kill every last enemy, leaving no survivors and ensuring no information would leak.

"Very good."

The limping knight nodded in satisfaction at the scene.

As pain flared in his leg, the muscles of his face spasmed, and he gripped the hilt of his sword for support.

Though the king's army was corrupt, the Red Keep guards remained elite. Caught off guard by the sudden attack, they initially suffered heavy losses. However, they soon rallied and mounted a fierce resistance.

In an instant, under the guidance of the Red Keep's master-at-arms, several masked riders were unhorsed, their heads cleaved from their bodies. Blood sprayed freely, like a gruesome fountain.

"Protect Her Majesty the Queen!"

The curly-haired, blood-soaked middle-aged man managed to wrest a steed from an enemy and clambered aboard.

Crouched low against the horse's back, he raced across the battlefield, his sword in one hand. He evaded enemy attacks and, with his masterful swordsmanship, slit the throat of a foe.

The terrified horse bolted, dragging the corpse of its assailant toward the woods.

Viserys, clutching Ser William's sword, was still in a daze.

He realized what was happening, but his legs felt as though they were filled with lead, rooted to the spot. He could only watch in horror as the grisly scene unfolded before him.

The shrill screams, the spattering of blood, the rolling severed heads – the intense, shocking images made it difficult for him to breathe.

Then, he saw a frightened warhorse, dragging an enemy's corpse, barreling straight towards him.

It was only then that Viserys' mind cleared, as he realized that if he were struck by the charging horse, he would likely meet his end.

Summoning all his strength to overcome his inner terror, his leaden legs seemed to suddenly find a hint of power.

And just as the frightened warhorse was about to collide with him...

He threw himself to the side.

Chapter 7: Courage

Thud—

Viserys tumbled awkwardly onto the bloodstained road, his once pristine blue velvet coat now muddied.

Startled, a warhorse galloped past him, its thundering hooves causing the pebbles on the ground to quiver.

The prince's ears rang, and he fell to his knees, curling into himself.

Gasping for air, Viserys propped himself up on his hands, his cheeks flushed with heat.

"I..."

He wanted to say something about having survived, but his racing heart caused his blood to rush.

However, the tense and ever-changing situation didn't allow him any time for sentiment.

Sir William's sword now lay not far away, a bit soiled but still glinting coldly.

The sounds of battle filled the air, blood splattering as both sides fought with fury.

Viserys, still on the ground, looked toward the slightly heavy sword that lay not too far away.

"I..."

And then, he didn't know where he found the courage and strength.

"Damn it!"

The silver-haired boy gritted his teeth and struggled to get up, ignoring his pounding heart. He dashed toward the sword, clutching it tightly.

The cold sensation.

The icy aura of the blade seemed almost solid.

In his previous life, Viserys might not have dared to wield such a sharp weapon, fearing he'd break the law or hurt himself. But now, the sword felt incredibly familiar.

In this chaos, everyone was struggling to protect themselves, and no one could protect him...

Only he could.

The silver-haired boy clenched his teeth, hugging the sword as he silently vowed.

He wouldn't surrender like a rabbit, no matter who wanted to kill him. Even in death, he'd bite off a chunk of his enemy.

"I will..."

But just as Viserys was trying to muster his courage—

A 'bandit' who had just fallen off his horse after having its leg severed rose to his feet, one hand propping himself up on his sword, the other holding his head, swaying unsteadily.

His leather armor was slashed open, leaving a ghastly wound. He had narrowly escaped being disemboweled, saved only by a stroke of luck.

Underneath the ruined armor, a glimpse of red and a golden lion emblem were revealed.

~In the blink of an eye~

-Moments earlier—

The Red Keep guard who had severed the horse's leg was instantly killed by others, the battle raging on intensely. The bandit was spared a killing blow.

As he recovered, he pushed away his comrade's corpse and rose, shaking his head. He then saw the boy in the center of the battlefield, clutching the sword.

That signature silvery-gold hair, the pale purple eyes like gemstones, and the delicate, almost girlish face. The sword-wielding boy had noticed him as well, his previously resolute gaze now filled with panic.

Like a frightened rabbit.

He didn't expect to be targeted by an enemy just moments after making a vow.

The unmasked bandit, seeing this unprotected 'big fish,' slowly let a sinister smile spread across his face as the wind blew away the black cloth covering it.

He didn't care one bit.

Brandishing a longsword, he took slow steps toward Viserys.

A Targaryen prince without protection was like a fish on a chopping block.

No matter how noble his birth or pure his blood, once he would have been deemed unworthy of even kneeling before the boy's toes.

However, at this moment, neither the prince's noble birth nor his pure blood could save him from the blade of a commoner.

Viserys, whether paralyzed by fear or some other reason, stood motionless on the spot.

His breath became slightly rapid, gripping the sword that had belonged to Sir William, its tip aimed at the approaching attacker.

His mind went blank, filled only with the words the middle-aged instructor had taught him earlier.

"Learn to stab your enemy with the sharp end."

Unbeknownst to Viserys, a thick black fog gradually swirled behind him, taking on an indescribable shape, with a pair of crimson eyes opening within the fog, fixated on his back.

A scarlet hue crept into Viserys' eyes, his breathing grew heavier, and he tightly clutched the longsword.

~In the blink of an eye...~

Boom!

Horses charged.

Hooves kicked up a mixture of blood and mud.

William Darry, covered in blood from head to toe, uncertain of whether it was his own or his enemies', wielded his longsword with blood dripping down its blade.

He raised it high as his horse galloped past the bandit, slicing a bloody arc through the air with his sword, striking down with full force.

Thunk!

The next second.

A severed head went flying, followed by a fountain of blood.

Whoosh~

The middle-aged man's bloodstained, curled hair gave him a fierce appearance, having lost all reason in the carnage. He clenched his horse between his legs, then swiftly switched the sword to his left hand.

Thud, thud...

Horse hooves trod on the blood-soaked mud.

As he dashed past Viserys, he leaned down, pressed his body against the horse, and scooped up the young prince, placing him behind him while urgently commanding,

"Your Highness, hold onto me!"

The middle-aged instructor had noticed the danger Viserys was in just in time, and quickly galloped over to slay the enemy, rescuing the young prince who had been prepared to fight to the death.

The steaming hot blood of the enemy splashed onto Viserys' delicate face, snapping him out of his daze as his body shuddered.

The black fog behind him, invisible to others, slowly dissipated, and his clear, gem-like, purple eyes regained their clarity.

He swallowed hard, clenching his teeth.

Only then did he realize what had just happened.

He... he had almost fought the enemy to the death?

Where did he find the courage?

However, already on the horse with Sir William and hearing the instructor's words, Viserys didn't hesitate to cling tightly to him.

An enemy had been decapitated just three feet away, their blood splattering on his face, yet Viserys felt no urge to vomit. In fact, he didn't even have the chance.

Instead, he became more determined, clenching his fists.

Because he knew that now was not the time for nausea if he wanted to survive.

His young body burned with ignited passion.

For a seven-year-old boy, few could say they were braver than he.

"Kill!"

The battle cry, like thunder erupting from a knight's throat, once more resounded through the bloodstained path.

Chapter 9: Chapter 8- Kevan Lannister

The setting sun bled crimson.

The brutal skirmish had come to an end, leaving the air thick with a nauseating stench. The once-smooth road was now covered in a slick mixture of blood and mud.

Rainwater and blood mingled together, clinging to the boots of the middle-aged master-at-arms.

Squish—

He stumbled forward, splashing mud and water, leaving a small pit behind that quickly filled with the reddish liquid.

Thud—

After taking only a few shaky steps, Ser William Darry collapsed to his knees in the muck.

One hand braced against the ground, beads of sweat dripped from his forehead as he gasped for air, like a fish flung ashore.

Panting~

His other hand pressed tightly against his abdomen, blood continuing to flow between his fingers.

He was wounded.

This was the most severe injury he had sustained, stabbed below the ribs by a masked bandit's dying counterattack. He had lost count of the numerous other cuts and bruises that covered his body.

Not far away, a crippled knight struggled to slay the last Red Keep guard who sought his life, the sword grinding into the man's neck.

"You..."

"Damn you."

With a forceful swipe, blood sprayed as the defeated guard's lifeless body slumped into the mud.

Thud—

The one-legged knight, now unsteady from the kill, used his sword to prop himself up.

His dented breastplate heaved with each labored breath, golden hair slick with sweat clinging to his face.

By now, the black cloth that once covered his face had long been lost.

But he no longer cared.

Panic-stricken shouts echoed in the distance, as fleeting silhouettes glanced back before disappearing into the woods, vanishing without a trace.

It was a bloody battle, with deserters on both sides crumbling under the pressure. They had underestimated the morale and strength of the Red Keep's guards, and they paid the price.

When the fight reached a stalemate, the crippled knight had considered retreat.

But his broken leg hindered his escape.

The fleeing soldiers abandoned their lord, now a burden to them, and scattered in all directions.

On the entire battlefield, only a few gravely wounded soldiers remained, both the Red Keep guards and the one-legged knight's men.

Then, the Red Keep master-at-arms, Ser William Darry, painstakingly rose to his feet once more.

He and the knight were the only ones left standing on the battlefield.

The golden-haired, one-legged knight's hawk-like eyes were heavy with exhaustion. He knew that since being abandoned by his men, his chances of survival had dwindled.

Unless he could summon the strength to kill everyone here, including the trembling Queen Leila hidden within the carriage...

At that moment, the one-legged knight seemed to realize something, his vision momentarily blurred as he steadied himself.

Only then did he notice the silver-haired boy beside Ser William Darry, covered in mud and blood, a sword cradled in his arms. The boy had helped Ser William to his feet.

"So, there's still a man left here."

The crippled knight, leaning on his sword, let out a bitter laugh.

Not far away, the middle-aged master-at-arms' damp curls clung to his cheeks. He pressed a hand to his side, feeling dizzy.

This was a sign of excessive blood loss.

Despite his condition, he recognized the mastermind behind the assault. The black cloth had fallen from the limping knight's face.

"Kevan Lannister!"

"It's you!"

The blond, limping knight appeared aged, but he was only in his thirties. His deep-set eyes and long laugh lines framed a face adorned with a short, neatly trimmed golden beard that seemed disheveled at the moment.

Sir William's lips quivered slightly. He, of course, recognized the man before him.

He was the younger brother of the renowned Warden of the West, Tywin Lannister, and the uncle of Jaime Lannister, who currently served as a Kingsguard to His Majesty.

"So the Lannisters have betrayed the Iron Throne!"

Shock was evident in Sir William's voice.

If the Lannister family had decided to betray the Iron Throne, King's Landing was in grave danger.

Before they set out, the armies of the West had marched towards King's Landing under the banner of loyalty.

If King Aerys II ordered the gates opened to admit the Western army, the city, which had never been breached from the outside, would fall from within.

And Jaime Lannister was by the king's side.

"Sir William."

"Let us both step back."

Kevan Lannister seemed unperturbed by being recognized. He was in dire straits and had to beg for his life. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

Kevan leaned on his sword with one hand, raising the other in a gesture of sincerity.

Few Lannisters were foolish. Their bloodline was perhaps gifted with adaptability, considering everyone knew the origin of their family.

Now trapped in such a precarious situation, Kevan did not abandon hope for survival.

He didn't attempt to persuade the master-at-arms to surrender, as both parties knew it was impossible. If the master-at-arms had wanted to surrender, he could have done so long ago, instead of fighting to this extent.

So, Kevan wanted them both to step back.

Queen Rhaella, a few handmaidens, and a young boy were on the other side.

But Kevan, having undergone rigorous training since childhood, was a skilled fighter. A few women and a boy posed no threat to him. Even with his limp, he could slay them one by one.

The only threat to him was the severely injured Red Keep master-at-arms, who was far inferior to himself.

Upon hearing the words of the limping knight, whom Sir William referred to as Kevan Lannister, Viserys felt a slight tension in his heart and looked up at the man beside him.

"Impossible!"

Sir William, clutching his side with a pale face, flatly refused.

He couldn't let Kevan go. If Kevan regrouped the scattered soldiers, the ones to die would be Sir William and his companions.

Then, his gaze turned to Viserys standing beside him.

"Child, do you remember what I just taught you?"

'Learn to use the pointy end to stab your enemies.'

Viserys nodded vigorously, gripping his sword tightly.

"Follow me!"

With that, the middle-aged master-at-arms, leaning on his sword with one hand, staggered towards Kevan one step at a time.

Kevan knew his opponent was resolute. With his limp, he couldn't outrun Sir William. With no other choice, he drew his sword and prepared for battle.

Two once-noble lords now resemble two injured hungry wolves, stumbling and rolling in a fight in the rain and blood.

Chapter 10: Chapter 9 - Dun Fort

*Clang!*

Under the crimson sunset, two longswords clashed violently, sending sparks flying.

The already notched blade received another old scar, and Sir William almost stumbled to the ground.

Seizing the opportunity, Kevan, with one broken leg, lunged forward and landed a heavy punch on the master-at-arms' face.

*Thud!*

The man with curly hair was dazed by the punch, blood in his mouth, his teeth slightly loose, as he fell face-up on the ground.

"Die!"

Kevan tried to seize the opportunity to strike a finishing blow but was caught off-guard when William tripped him up, causing him to fall and drop his longsword.

The two men, covered in blood and mud, grappled and rolled around, while the surrounding battlefield fell eerily silent. All that could be heard were their fists meeting flesh and the weak groans of the dying.

The blood-red sunset enveloped the entire avenue, a breeze carrying away the thick scent of blood, drifting into the distance. Carrion birds circled overhead, their cries shrill and mournful.

No one knew of the fierce battle that had taken place here.

At last, Viserys, clutching his longsword, found his chance.

Without harming Sir William...

He thrust his sword through a gap in Kevan Lannister's armor from behind, driving it in mercilessly.

"Die!"

*Squelch!*

The silver-haired boy charged, his sword piercing straight through Kevan's heart, the bright blade emerging red from his chest, blood dripping down its tip.

This knight from House Lannister, a veteran of countless battles, had once fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and earned many honors. Yet, he never expected to meet his end at the hands of a child.

Subsequently, the lifeless body collapsed to the ground, knees buckling.

*Gasp!*

Viserys, panting heavily, pulled his sword out.

What he didn't notice was that after killing Kevan, an unseen black smoke followed his sword from Kevan's body into his palm, a warm sensation spreading through his body.

Immediately after, the boy, still gasping for air, struck his sword into Kevan's neck.

Fearing he hadn't killed his enemy, he sought to sever Kevan's head but failed due to a lack of strength, the sword getting stuck halfway through the neck.

Blood stained the ground red.

But Kevan Lannister was already dead beyond any doubt.

*Thump!*

At that moment, Viserys finally dropped his sword and slumped down, chest heaving.

From witnessing the battlefield up close to personally killing someone, he had quickly adapted in order to survive, forcing himself to keep moving.

Sir William, sprawled on the ground after almost being killed by Kevan's punch, struggled to speak through his bruised and swollen face, unable to even sit up.

"Child... why would you do such a thing?"

He stared at Viserys' last ruthless act.

The mere seven-year-old boy not only had the courage to kill an enemy but even sought to sever the man's head.

This stark contrast stunned Sir William, once again redefining his impression of the Targaryen prince.

'Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin to decide whether they will be great or mad.'

Master-at-arms struggled for a moment to discern whether this was the stance of a hero or a cruel madness.

"I don't know either."

Viserys, panting, sat on the ground and glanced at the lifeless body of Kevan, noticing the emblem beneath his breastplate.

Then, he helped the middle-aged master-at-arms to his feet.

"Perhaps I'm just afraid, afraid I hadn't killed him."

He didn't speak of revenge or any nonsense like that. Everyone would know what the Lannisters did after this, and for now, he'd merely collected a small portion of the debt owed.

The womenfolk who had been hiding in the carriage also disembarked at this point.

No one blamed them for not helping earlier, as their skills might not have been of any use and could have instead caused more harm than good.

At that moment, the sound of galloping hooves could be heard again in the distance.

The faces of Viserys and Ser William paled, but this time, the sound came from the direction they were headed.

The next second, a group of cavalry bearing banners appeared in their line of sight.

...

The following day, just before dawn.

The blue and white diagonal cross, along with two crossed war hammers, fluttered on the banner.

Boom, boom, boom—

The gates of Dun Fort opened, and Lord Renfred Rykker, atop a tall horse, donned a black cloak and deer-hide gloves, personally welcoming the visitors at the gates.

"Your Grace, the Queen."

Splash—

As Queen Rhaella's carriage approached, Lord Renfred Rykker dismounted and led his family and servants to kneel in a dense formation.

They had received word from King's Landing and set out to escort Queen Rhaella and the Prince to Duskendale. However, they hadn't expected to arrive just in time to intercept the fugitive Red Keep guards and learn of the Queen's encounter with bandits.

Under the orders of Sir Jaremy Rykker, they hurried to escort Queen Rhaella and the Prince to Dun Fort.

Dun Fort was the ancestral home of the Rykker family, situated atop the hills outside Duskendale, overlooking the city and the port.

Ser William was severely wounded and underwent emergency treatment. After the maester of Dun Fort carefully sutured and bandaged his wounds, he drank some milk of the poppy and fell into a deep sleep.

Queen Rhaella was resting alone in a bedroom.

Viserys shared a room with little Rhaenys.

Step by step…

Silver-gold curls draped over his shoulders as Viserys carried a frightened and now sound asleep Rhaenys back to their room.

For some reason, he felt stronger than before, and holding Rhaenys wasn't as difficult as he'd expected.

Little black cat Balerion followed its master closely, having also survived the fierce battle.

Viserys gently placed the young girl on the bed, as the candlelight flickered softly within the bedroom. Outside, the sounds of soldiers' armor and patrolling footsteps could be heard.

"At least, the Rykker family appears to be loyal for now."

Viserys was somewhat sleepless, perhaps having experienced too much excitement. The blood-soaked reality reminded him that this world was far from perfect.

He felt trapped in the mire, with every effort required just to survive.

The boy stepped on a stool and leaned on the narrow windowsill of the bedroom, gazing at the view outside.

Duskendale and the sea were split in half, and the morning sea carried a sense of tranquility. Gentle waves lapped against the rocks. The salty, damp sea breeze blew in through the window, caressing the boy's delicate, almost feminine cheeks and rustling his silverish-golden hair.

Chapter 11: Chapter 10 - Attribute Enhancement

He knew who the Lannister family was, including the events that would follow. Although his memory was vague, he had a general understanding of the story.

He also knew that King's Landing now relied on the support of the Westerlands' reinforcements.

However, reality was apparent; the Lannisters had also betrayed the Iron Throne, which would be the final straw to break the Targaryen dynasty.

Fortunately, House Rykker had not captured any Lannister deserters or investigated the identities of the attackers. Ser Jaremy believed Sir William's words, thinking it was a rebel assault.

Due to the lack of communication, Dun Fort had not yet received the latest news from King's Landing.

The silver-haired boy was anxious at this moment, but he couldn't reveal anything. The guards outside seemed to him both protectors and overseers.

"We must board a ship and leave before the news leaks."

Viserys looked at the merchants and fishermen sailing out to sea from the window, silently making up his mind.

"Meow~"

At that moment, the little black cat Balerion meowed and then gracefully leaped onto the bed.

Its soft paws stepped on its master's brown hair, sticking out its little tongue to gently lick Rhaenys's cheek, then curled its tail and lay beside the little girl.

Viserys's thoughts were slightly interrupted by Balerion's meow. He turned his head to look at Rhaenys, who had fallen into a deep sleep due to a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

He then looked back at the silver-plated mirror not far away, pausing for three seconds.

A black mist slowly spread.

[Viserys Targaryen]

Sun Attribute: 5

Earth Attribute: 6

Water Attribute: 8

Moon Attribute: 18

"Hmm?"

A young, delicate face appeared in the silver mirror. The figure seemed quite thin, looking only about seven or eight years old, with silver-gold hair and a pair of light purple eyes.

At the moment, due to intense stimulation and a sleepless night, some redness had appeared in his eyes.

Viserys furrowed his brow slightly, looking at the High Valyrian characters formed by the black mist, focusing on the symbols for 'sun' and 'earth.'

If his initial analysis was correct, they should represent his strength and constitution, respectively.

Viserys remembered clearly that before leaving King's Landing, the 'sun' attribute should have been 3, and the 'earth' attribute should have been 5.

"Did my strength and constitution change in such a short time?"

Viserys was somewhat astonished, unable to comprehend why only he could see the black mist that represented his body's data, which he thought would only grow with his body's development or training.

The silver-haired boy stood in front of the mirror, rubbing his temples. So much had happened over the course of the restless night, and Viserys was quite exhausted.

Even if his 'moon' attribute was far stronger than others'.

However, at this moment, he still forced himself to stay alert, wanting to understand his body's current condition. His gaze fell on the sword on the table - the very sword he had used to kill Kevan Lannister.

Ser William, gravely injured, had fallen asleep after taking milk of the poppy, leaving the sword with Viserys.

A half-melted wax candle flickered on the round wooden table, its light gently swaying with the sea breeze that seeped through the window cracks.

A small black cat, lying on the soft silken bedding, stared with curious, deep green eyes at Viserys.

It had no idea what the boy had in mind.

Then, in the cat's eyes, the reflection of Viserys drawing his sword appeared.

Clang—

A cold, forest-like gleam reflected the candlelight, illuminating the entire room. The smooth, watery surface of the sword still bore some uncleaned, mottled bloodstains, and Viserys' cheeks appeared in the reflection as well.

"My strength... it seems to have really increased."

His eyes, reflected on the sword, clearly revealed a touch of delight.

Viserys felt that the longsword, which had once been somewhat heavy for him, no longer required as much effort. His strength had grown significantly in silence, and he hadn't even noticed it happening, as if it were only natural.

And when he pressed a finger to his chest, he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but even his body seemed to have become more robust.

"What... could be the cause?"

The silver-gold-haired boy stood before the mirror, placing the longsword back on the round wooden table, and fell into a slight contemplation.

He carefully recalled the events that had transpired before and after his flight from King's Landing. According to his mother, the bad news had arrived the day before everything happened.

The next day, Viserys had found out and had been immediately taken to a carriage to flee. His mind had been hazy at the time, and he had daringly rescued Rhaenys.

He hadn't done anything unusual during this time.

Then, on the way to Duskendale, they had encountered an attack by the Lannister family. In the ensuing battle, he had killed Kevan Lannister with his own hands.

"Is it because I killed someone?"

The journey was simple, with not many complexities. Aside from the creaking and groaning of the carriage and the panic and tension of being attacked, he had mustered all his courage to fight back in order to survive.

Viserys wasn't a fool; he quickly realized that the only difference between this journey and his usual life was that he had killed someone.

His thoughts were chaotic, and the silverish-gold-haired boy stood still, his eyes, which had been somewhat bloodshot, becoming increasingly focused.

If it really was as he thought, then he had discovered a path to strengthening himself.

All he needed to do was continue to kill his enemies...

And he could keep growing stronger?

As he thought of this, Viserys' heart raced. He had once been unsure why only he could see the mysterious black fog.

Now it seemed that it was his 'golden touch' in this world.

But why did it choose him?

Was it because of his bloodline? He was a Targaryen.

Viserys' thoughts were expanding, his mind becoming more active. The first thing he considered was this, the biggest difference between himself and others.

The true dragon bloodline of the Targaryens.

However, he then remembered that the writing displayed within the black fog had been in High Valyrian.

Viserys was somewhat hesitant.

"Is it because I'm a Targaryen, or because... I'm a Valyrian?"

There were still many descendants of the Valyrians left in this world, but Viserys seemed to have become the lucky one.

He sat on the edge of the bed, propping his chin and thinking for a long time, but due to his limited knowledge, he couldn't figure out the reason.

Opportunities don't just come out of nowhere.

Viserys' small and slender body housed a wisdom beyond his years, and he knew this well.

So when the day finally came and he received a gift from the heavens, he was a bit too cautious.

Chapter 11: Setting Sail

"Forget it."

With that, the silver-haired boy gave his hair a slight tug, deciding not to dwell on the matter any further.

He hadn't forgotten that even if he managed to flee to Duskendale, he still wasn't entirely out of danger. Only by leaving Westeros and reaching the open sea might he be able to breathe a little easier.

Now, having gone without sleep for a day and a night, even though the fusion of two souls made his spirit more resilient than others, he was beginning to falter.

What he needed now was rest. Then, after Ser William awoke, he would find him and his mother to discuss their departure from Duskendale and their journey to Dragonstone.

His understanding of the present historical context was limited, but he still remembered that the Baratheon stag-banner would continue to fly over Westeros for the next decade or so.

It was an inevitable trend.

The Targaryen dynasty was running out of time, destined to fall in this war of usurpers.

Now, as a seven-year-old boy, he could hardly achieve much, let alone turn the tide.

For Viserys, his current, and for a long time to come, sole mission was...

To survive.

...

A day and a night passed.

Dawn.

Finally awakening from his coma, Ser William Darry, who had suffered a severe wound with a sword through his ribs, regained consciousness.

The middle-aged maester's face was somewhat pale, but after treatment from the maester and ample rest, he had recovered considerably and could now walk with assistance.

Outside, the fluttering sound of wings announced the arrival of a raven from afar. It landed on a wooden perch, tilting its head slightly, its blue eyes shimmering.

A letter was wrapped around the raven's leg.

The maester in charge of the ravens quickly approached, soothing the bird, rewarding it with a treat, and then removed the letter from its leg.

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.

Inside the Dun-Fort banquet hall, Lord Renfred Rykker sat cautiously beside Queen Rhaella.

He had seized the opportunity to take over Duskendale and Dun-Fort after the Darklyn family had been executed by the king following the Duskendale Uprising.

Now, in this war of usurpers, Lord Rykker had chosen to side with the royal family after much deliberation.

He believed that the Targaryen family would suppress the rebellion, and this would be another opportunity for his house to thrive.

"Your Majesty."

The slightly rotund Lord Rykker, with his protruding belly, sat in his chair, which creaked under his weight.

In his hand, he held a message from King's Landing, which he handed to the silver-haired woman.

Duskendale was not far from King's Landing, and due to the defeat at the Battle of the Trident, its location had become somewhat precarious.

However, the rebels had no time to deal with these loyalist nobles, as their forces were aimed directly at King's Landing.

On the other hand, Stannis and Renly Baratheon were trapped within Storm's End, besieged by the Highgarden forces led by Lord Mace Tyrell for over a year now.

Although Lord Rykker risked remaining loyal to the royal family in these increasingly dire times, it didn't mean he would blindly follow them to the bitter end.

He had been continuously sending people to gather information from King's Landing, ready to adapt as needed, and the message he now handed to Queen Rhaella was the result of such efforts.

On the surface, it seemed that the situation had not yet reached its most desperate point.

The Casterly Rock forces led by Tywin Lannister seemed to have arrived at King's Landing.

However, for some unknown reason, King Aerys II had not immediately chosen to open the gates of King's Landing to let the Western army enter the city. Instead, he had kept them all locked out.

"Perhaps His Majesty is being overly cautious," Lord Rykker mused.

Ser Rufus Leek, who was sitting nearby, cautiously observed Queen Rhaella's expression and ventured to ask:

"Shall I have Your Majesty write a letter to persuade His Majesty?"

However, upon hearing Ser Rufus Leek's words, Queen Rhaella's face remained unchanged, revealing nothing. She just held the intelligence report with such intensity that her fingernails turned white.

In the end, she took a deep breath and shook her head.

"There's no need."

"I trust the King's judgment."

She had initially wanted to use Castle Dun-Fort's ravens to send a letter, warning her husband to be cautious of House Lannister.

But now that she had received news that the armies from the West had already arrived at King's Landing, she knew it was too late.

Due to the time it took for the news to travel, she had no idea how much time had passed. A woman knows her husband: stubborn, mad, suspicious, fickle, but sometimes soft-hearted.

She believed that by now, House Lannister may have deceived their way into King's Landing.

The Targaryen dynasty's decline was inevitable, but even so, Queen Rhaella knew she had to remain strong for her two children and granddaughter.

Before leaving King's Landing, she had discovered that she was pregnant once again.

She did not know whether it was a boy or a girl.

This revelation filled Queen Rhaella with joy, for she had been pregnant many times before, but only Rhaegar and Viserys had survived; the rest were either stillborn or had died young.

She hoped to give birth to another child.

"We have been guests at Castle Dun-Fort for quite some time now."

The silver-haired woman fell silent for a moment. Sitting in the main seat, she put down the intelligence report and then looked up at Ser Rufus Leek, her voice as calm as possible.

"Ser Leek."

"I believe the ships bound for Dragonstone are ready."

Upon hearing Queen Rhaella's words, Ser Leek hurriedly stood up.

"Yes, Your Majesty. You may depart at any time."

He wanted to keep Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys at Castle Dun-Fort for future gains, but with the rebels' power growing, Ser Leek dared not keep them there for long.

Otherwise, Castle Dun-Fort's modest forces wouldn't even be enough to serve the rebels tea.

...

Another half day passed.

Viserys finally achieved his wish and set out to sea.

Splash—

The gentle waves lapped against the hull. The sky and the sea seemed to merge into one, stretching endlessly.

Viserys sat at the bow, the sea breeze rustling his silvery-gold hair, his gem-like eyes blinking.

He was no stranger to the sea, but each time he returned, he could not help but be enthralled.

He loved the tranquil and peaceful atmosphere, which even allowed him to momentarily forget his troubles.

Today's sea was like a mirror, with only the two-masted ship breaking the surface and creating ripples.

Under the brilliant golden sunlight, the scattered view was dazzling, like scattered gold.

Behind Viserys, the deck was filled with people dressed in various styles, speaking in diverse accents. This was a merchant ship from one of the Nine Free Cities, and its owner was said to be a merchant from Braavos.

They needed to dock at Duskendale's small port to resupply before setting sail back to the continent of Essos, with their final destination being Pentos.

This two-masted merchant ship would briefly stop at Dragonstone while crossing the Narrow Sea.

So when Duke Leek contacted the owner of this merchant ship, they agreed without hesitation. They only charged a small sum of gold dragons to escort Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys to Dragonstone. (To be continued.)

Chapter 12: Dragonstone

Days at sea were monotonous and soon passed by.

Night.

In the depths of the night, the ocean's waves surged and crashed onto the ship's deck, creating a thunderous roar.

Whoosh--

The two-masted merchant ship cut through the wind and waves, tearing apart the fog that blanketed the sea. In the distance, an island shrouded in darkness gradually came into view.

And then it grew larger.

Viserys stood on the deck, cradling a small black cat in his arms. The sea breeze tousled his hair, and his face reddened slightly from the exposure. During this time, he had endured the relentless battering of the sea wind, truly understanding the hardships faced by sailors.

In addition to the torment of loneliness, he had also suffered physically. The sharp sea wind now stung his face, feeling like tiny knives cutting into his tender skin.

The excitement he had initially felt upon setting out to sea had long since vanished.

During their brief journey, they had even encountered a minor storm. However, aside from giving Viserys some experience, the journey had been uneventful and without danger.

Ultimately, they reached their destination.

From a distance, the island of Dragonstone loomed larger in the boy's field of vision, appearing like a mountain peak rising out of the sea. It also resembled a massive dragon baring its teeth and claws, overlooking those who dared approach it from Westeros.

It seemed as though at any moment, a scorching breath of dragonfire could be unleashed.

Viserys, with the small black cat in his arms, stared fearlessly at 'it.'

"Meow~"

Due to seasickness, Rhaenys had not left the cabin for quite some time. She spent her days holed up in the room, eating a little before falling asleep; otherwise, she would vomit everything out.

The girl felt dazed and even ran a slight fever, frightening Queen Rhaella. For the past few days, she had been devotedly caring for her granddaughter.

"Your Majesty, the Queen, we've arrived at Dragonstone "

Standing behind Viserys, a portly man dressed in lavish attire bowed slightly, then grinned at Queen Rhaella as he spoke.

His voluminous sleeves failed to conceal the bracelets made of various precious gems adorning his wrists. The greasiness on his face and the gleam of the jewels under the bright torchlight were nearly blinding.

Viserys instinctively felt that there was more to this man than met the eye. Perhaps it wasn't a mere coincidence that he happened to pass by Duskendale and then just happened to be en route to Pentos, passing Dragonstone Island.

He may have had a hidden agenda.

Nevertheless, they had finally arrived at Dragonstone Island, and Viserys kept these thoughts to himself, telling no one.

Splash--

The sound of water lapped at their ears as the boat approached the shore. People on land noticed their arrival, and after some exchanges, the ship docked smoothly. Those who had come to greet them soon arrived.

"Your Grace, the Queen."

"Your Grace, the Queen."

Two people hurried over: one was an elderly maester clad in white, and the other was the steward who had been governing Dragonstone in Prince Rhaegar's absence.

Both kneeled to welcome the Queen and the Prince. The maester was quite old and trembled as he knelt. Viserys, with a nod from his mother, quickly stepped forward to help the elderly maester to his feet.

"Maester Daniel, it has been a long time."

Queen Rhaella rested a hand on her belly, her silver hair gently blowing in the sea breeze. Her beautiful eyes stared at the white-haired old maester, as if gazing upon the relentless passage of time. She eventually spoke softly.

"Indeed, Princess Rhaella..."

As a servant who had served the Targaryen family for generations, Maester Daniel began his service during the reign of Rhaella's great-grandfather, Aegon V.

Maester Daniel had watched Rhaella and the current King, Aerys, grow up.

He had seen Rhaella Targaryen's lively and adorable side as a young girl, and had blessed her passionate love with Ser Bonifer Hasty. In the end, Maester Daniel bore witness to Rhaella's wedding with her brother, Aerys.

Because of their long journey, they did not linger at the harbor. The group walked and talked along the rugged path, making their way towards the castle on the distant hill, shaped like a massive dragon.

As the distant villages were shrouded in the darkness of night, a deep silence prevailed. Dragonstone had a small population and scarce resources, yet it was the very place where House Targaryen had risen to power, the 'Land of the Dragon's Rise.'

Over two hundred years ago, Aegon Targaryen the First had devised his plan to conquer the continent of Westeros from this very location, alongside his two sisters.

Queen Rhaella was seen supporting Maester Daniel, their conversation reminiscent of a grandparent and grandchild reminiscing about the past. Viserys, on the other hand, was dragging a still dazed Rhaenys, whose steps alternated between shallow and deep. Another middle-aged man who had accompanied Maester Daniel cast a few glances at Rhaenys.

"Daevi Sand."

The man, clad in leather armor, abruptly spoke after observing Rhaenys for a while.

"Hmm?"

Viserys, upon hearing the man's voice, tilted his head slightly and noticed the man was looking at him.

"My name is Daevi Sand, Your Highness."

The middle-aged man spoke once more to clarify.

"Nice to meet you, Ser Sand."

Viserys courteously nodded towards him while still holding Rhaenys, unsure of why the man had approached him. As he spoke, he suddenly paused, realizing something.

The man, unfazed by Viserys' expression, seemed quite accustomed to such reactions.

The surname Sand was a designation for bastards hailing from Dorne, and the man himself had been presented as a 'gift' to Prince Rhaegar when House Dorne and House Targaryen had formed a marriage alliance.

Many of those loyal to Rhaegar came from Dorne, and their allegiance was due to this very reason.

Two people exchanged greetings, then fell silent once again. Apart from Queen Rhaella, who was catching up with Maester Daniel, the rest of the group remained quiet.

The imposing castle atop the hill gradually came into view. The Drum Tower, as the main keep of Dragonstone, would resound with thunderous echoes within its ancient walls whenever a storm arrived, thus earning its name.

Upon entering through the main gate, the castle's entrance took the form of a dragon's mouth. Flanked by dragon claws on both sides of the walls, torch stands blazed with roaring flames that stretched the shadows of the party, illuminating the castle's interior.

Constructed entirely of black stone, the atmosphere within Dragonstone Castle felt somewhat oppressive and solemn. Viserys wandered inside, his curiosity driving him to take in every detail.

Eventually, the group arrived in the great hall of the main keep.

Queen Rhaella took her seat at the head of the hall, while Maester Daniel and the former steward, Daevi Sand, sat on seats to the side.

The elderly handmaiden who had fled to Dragonstone with the queen took little Renis away to rest.

Inside the castle, servants and soldiers busied themselves with cleaning and tidying.

At that moment, Queen Rhaella looked at Viserys and abruptly spoke.

"Viserys."

"Kneel here."

Chapter 13: Coronation

"Viserys."

"Kneel here."

Upon hearing his mother's request, the silver-haired boy hesitated for a moment.

However, neither Maester Daniel seated beside the throne nor Steward Daevi Sand showed the slightest surprise.

News from King's Landing had gradually trickled in. As Queen Rhaella and Viserys set sail away from Westeros, King's Landing had already fallen.

Lord Tywin led 12,000 soldiers under the pretense of loyalty to the king, only to be rebuffed by King Aerys II.

Grand Maester Pycelle, siding against Master of Whispers Varys, persuaded the king to open the gates and welcome the Westerlands' army into the city.

But as the gates of King's Landing opened wide and the Lannister army entered, the previously loyal and submissive Lord of Casterly Rock suddenly turned, ordering his troops to sack the city in the name of Robert Baratheon.

The city, never before breached by an external force, fell once again from within.

King Aerys II, still in King's Landing, was now of uncertain fate. No concrete news had come through, but his prospects seemed grim.

Hence, it wasn't difficult to understand Queen Rhaella's sudden decision.

"Your Grace."

At this point, the elderly maester seated nearby spoke up, then, trembling, stood with the help of his chair.

"If you wish to crown His Highness, we must follow the will of the Seven."

The coronation of a new king was a significant event, requiring an intricate ceremony. First and foremost, there had to be a proper cathedral. In the Targaryen dynasty, most kings were crowned in the Great Sept of Baelor.

On Dragonstone, there was indeed a sept, where, it was said, Aegon the Conqueror had knelt and prayed the night before sailing to conquer the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

However, according to Targaryen family records, this was hardly credible, as Aegon only converted to the Faith of the Seven after reaching Oldtown during his conquest.

Thus, the sept must have been built after the conquest.

But a cathedral alone was not enough for a new king's coronation.

The High Septon and several High Septons had to jointly conduct the coronation ceremony, which involved anointing with holy oil, reciting blessings, and more...

But impoverished Dragonstone, though possessing a sept, had little else – even Septonss and nuns were scarce, let alone High Septons and the High Septon.

Upon hearing Maester Daniel's words, Queen Rhaella appeared momentarily lost, then lowered her head and rubbed her brow.

"I apologize, Maester Daniel."

"I lost my composure."

Though the silver-haired woman appeared strong, the pain of a shattered kingdom and lost family gnawed at her like ants, leaving her somewhat disoriented.

All she wanted was to pass on the crown to her child and maintain that small flame of hope in her heart.

The Targaryen dynasty would not crumble in her generation.

"In that case, let us go to the sept."

The old handmaid helped Queen Rhaella up, while Ser Daevi Sand, sitting on the other side, leaned on his sword as he stood and spoke.

"Your Grace, I shall fetch a Septons."

"There's no need to find those Septons."

"Ser."

Nevertheless, the steward's proposal was immediately rejected by the silver-haired woman.

Queen Rhaella stood before the central seat of the round table, gazing at the gathered crowd. The golden crown embedded with a ruby at its center shimmered with dazzling brilliance under the torchlight.

Taking a deep breath to gather her spirits, she spoke.

"Now is a crucial time."

"I will crown Viserys under the watchful gaze of the Seven."

...

Inside the Dragonstone Sept, there were statues of the Seven Gods.

And at this moment, Viserys knelt before the statues, his mother, Queen Rhaella Targaryen, standing beside him.

Donning a new gown of black velvet, the queen appeared even more regal. Her slender, graceful figure was adorned with her long silver hair that cascaded down her waist. One hand rested on Viserys's head while the other held a written oath penned by Maester Daniel, her voice solemn as she recited the words.

"This feeling..."

Viserys knelt on the ground, feeling inexplicably uneasy, as if he were stripped naked and scrutinized by onlookers.

In the vast Sept, Queen Rhaella read the oath for her son, while Maester Daniel, Ser Sand, and others stood at a distance, witnessing the event.

As for the focus of everyone's gaze, the silver-haired boy seemed restless, squirming.

Then Rhaella held him still with her hand.

"Do you vow to bear a heart of kindness..."

His mother's voice resonated from above.

Viserys, however, felt his breathing grow somewhat labored. His face flushed, undetected by others, as if his blood was set ablaze within.

He heard his mother's words and could only nod blankly, saying "I vow," while raising his bewildered eyes to survey his surroundings.

The towering statues of the Seven Gods looked down upon the small folk below.

In Dragonstone's Sept, the Crone's eyes were pearls, the Father's beard gilded, and the Stranger resembled an animal more than a human.

The statues had been carved from the masts of ships, the very vessels that carried the ancestors of House Targaryen from Valyria across the sea. For centuries, they had been coated with layers of paint, gilded, silvered, and adorned with jewels.

There were also several altars in the Sept, painted glass reflecting dazzling light under the torch's glow.

"So hot..."

Viserys felt a burning sensation as his palms pressed against the Sept's floor, as if he were in a great furnace, flames consuming all.

"No..."

"Scorching."

Yet, no one around him seemed to share this sensation. Viserys alone was the exception.

"What is going on?"

"Why do I feel this way under the gaze of the Seven?"

Viserys was perplexed, yet his temperature continued to rise.

He knew the importance of the coronation ceremony and tried to maintain composure, concealing his abnormal state.

However, his breathing grew increasingly rapid with time. Viserys felt as if he were being melted by fire, his skin, muscles, blood, organs, and bones burned to cinders, eventually turning to ash.

And at that moment,

Queen Rhaella's lengthy oath finally came to an end.

Following this, the silver-haired woman removed the ruby-encrusted golden crown from her head and slowly placed it upon Viserys's.

"From this day forth,"

"My child..."

"You are the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the rightful ruler and protector of the Seven Kingdoms Viserys Targaryen the Third."

(To be continued.)

Chapter 14: Wrath

Viserys, half-kneeling beneath the statues of the Seven, finally reached his breaking point.

The silver-haired boy's body temperature had risen to a frightening level, his fair skin reddening as if an internal furnace was scorching him.

Queen Rhaella, his mother, finally noticed her son's condition.

"Viserys!"

"What's wrong?"

But with the world spinning and his mind seared blank, the boy only caught a glimpse of his mother's anxious face as she crouched down.

Then, he collapsed, his burning cheeks pressed against the cold ground.

"Maester!"

The newly crowned little king had fainted, causing chaos within the Sept of Dragonstone.

...

Compared to the minor incident of Viserys Targaryen's fainting on Dragonstone, a much bigger event was taking place.

At the same time.

Far away in King's Landing.

The powerful Tywin Lannister was furious, which was the real headline.

Nobody would have imagined, nor could they easily picture the calculating and cold-hearted Lord Tywin losing his composure like this.

Splash—

The knights of House Lannister knelt before him, begging their lord to calm down.

They hadn't forgotten the tune of "The Rains of Castamere" echoing above the ruins of Tarbeck Hall and the blood-drenched land where men, women, and children were slaughtered.

The Lannister soldiers who had managed to escape were now tied to wooden stakes, awaiting the wrath of their lord to flay and torture them.

The reason for Tywin Lannister's fury was simple: aside from the few who had escaped, nearly all of the forces he had sent to secretly assassinate Queen Rhaella and her young son Viserys had been wiped out.

Because of the delay in the news, this devastating report arrived a step late.

Days later, the corpse of Tywin's brother and most trusted right-hand man, Kevan Lannister, was found and brought back to King's Landing.

Kevan's death was gruesome; besides Tywin himself, no one could bear to look at it.

Women who had never witnessed such carnage ran to the corner and retched.

Kevan's fatal wound was in his chest, pierced from behind by a sword.

His attackers, fearing he wasn't dead, attempted to sever his head, but for some reason, perhaps exhaustion, the sword got stuck halfway.

Thus, Kevan's corpse, head hanging by a thread, was transported back in a cart, the sight too horrifying to behold. His body had begun to reek, maggots crawling all over him. Even with the maester's help in dressing his wounds, they could only barely stitch up the gash on his neck, unable to mask the stench.

At this moment.

The tall and slender Lord of Casterly Rock, with his green eyes filled with bloodshot veins and thick golden sideburns trembling, couldn't fathom that his brother had died in battle like this, casting a Sandow over the victory they were reaping.

A hint of fear had even secretly took root in his heart.

This was supposed to be a feast to divide and conquer the Targaryens. House Lannister had been the last to act, but the most ruthless.

Everyone knew that if the Targaryens weren't wiped out, they'd always be a ticking time bomb.

These 'true dragon-blooded' individuals would eventually make them pay in blood.

Everything had gone smoothly until now, but when Kevan's sudden demise occurred just as the fruits of victory were within grasp, a psychological Sandow was cast over Tywin, who already harbored a guilty conscience.

The body of his old friend, Aerys, lay before the Iron Throne.

During the brutal sack of King's Landing, Lannister troops rampaged, pillaging and burning under the name of the 'new king.'

Rhaegar's wife and child, Princess Elia and Aegon, had their bodies wrapped in the crimson Lannister cloak by his own hands, offered to Robert Baratheon as a sign of loyalty.

These bloodstained scenes flashed through his mind repeatedly.

A debt of blood must be paid in blood.

Or perhaps it was simply karma.

Nevertheless, Tywin Lannister's spine never bent, his cold, ruthless face still shrouded in dark clouds.

He would not let his inner turmoil affect his loyal bannermen; he remained the authoritative Lord of Casterly Rock.

Subsequently.

Bang—

A middle-aged man, dressed in red robes adorned with a vibrant lion embroidered in gold thread, seemed to finally lose control of his emotions.

With no warning, he kicked over the table before him, scattering its contents on the floor.

"Targaryen!"

He then drew the sword from his waist, wildly hacking away at everything in the room.

If the death of his wife, Joanna Lannister, years ago had taken away the last bit of warmth in Tywin, the death of his brother Kevan Lannister now robbed him of his composure.

The furious Lord Tywin appeared enraged beyond control.

He loathed the Targaryen family; otherwise, he wouldn't have gone to such lengths this time to exterminate every last one of their dragonspawn.

Years ago, at his wedding to Joanna, a drunken Aerys Targaryen had committed an unspeakable act against Tywin's wife, an act that had been buried deep within his heart.

After the incident, Tywin sent his wife away from King's Landing and returned to Casterly Rock, their friendship, once forged during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, now shattered.

The present-day furious Tywin left every knight and bannerman of House Lannister who had followed him here in shock.

Only the man known as 'The Mountain,' Gregor Clegane, stood arrogantly with his arms crossed, seemingly unafraid of Lord Tywin's wrath.

Regardless of how furious Tywin Lannister became, he never lashed out at others.

He executed every deserter with his own hands and ordered the concealment of Kevan's death, holding a grand funeral for his brother under the guise of an 'accidental fall from a horse.'

He vowed to avenge his brother's death by exterminating every last Targaryen.

However...

You cannot keep fire hidden in paper.

...

King's Landing, freshly cleansed with blood and fire, seemed to have momentarily lost its stench of urine, now enveloped in the putrid smell of blood and decay.

Within a narrow alley that only allowed two people to pass at once, nearly every household hung a white cloth.

The night was deep.

The city watch had just patrolled the area.

And at this moment.

Clink~

A round silver stag fell to the ground, emitting a crisp sound.

Moments later.

A small figure darted out from the darkness, looking left and right to make sure no one was watching.

Swiftly, they picked up the silver stag from the ground, stuffed it into their chest, and vanished into the darkness once more.

Chapter 15: Nightmares and Disasters

The true cause of Kevan's death spread quickly with the aid of those who had an agenda.

As King's Landing had just been plundered, there were more than a few who harbored resentment towards House Lannister.

Combined with the fact that many nobles in the rebellious faction were also envious of the Lannisters reaping the rewards of victory, their infamy spread throughout the city through a tacit collaboration.

Countless commoners rejoiced at Kevan's death, believing the Targaryens would eventually return and make the Lannisters 'pay their debts.'

The Targaryens still held the hearts of the people.

During one of his recent outings, a rotten egg was thrown at the face of Lord Tywin.

His face was cold, even turning an ashen hue, and anyone could see the fury in his eyes.

However, the city guards, known as the Gold Cloaks, scurried about and failed to find the real culprit behind the attack on Tywin.

The situation escalated, painting Tywin as an utterly wicked demon.

In the end, several Lannister soldiers were ambushed and beaten to death by an unruly mob while patrolling the city.

The turmoil continued to brew.

Many in the usurpers' faction were delighted to witness such events, even fueling the fire by continuously slinging dirt at House Lannister.

After all, the fewer people there were to share the spoils, the better.

...

Meanwhile, far away on Dragonstone.

An unknown amount of time had passed.

Viserys still lay in bed, lost in a deep slumber, with a series of intricate dreams unfolding in his world.

He dreamt of his past lives.

He dreamt of a colossal dragon breathing fire at him, attempting to turn him to ashes.

He also dreamt of a world-ending catastrophe, with all the volcanoes erupting simultaneously, spewing ash, smoke, and flames into the sky.

The cracked earth swallowed majestic temples, palaces, and bustling towns.

"Where is this?"

Viserys didn't know why he dreamt of such a scene, yet he shivered as if he was actually there.

He knew this was a manifestation of fear.

It was like the feeling when he was attacked on the road, with a frightened warhorse charging straight at him.

It was also like a fish flung ashore, gasping for air, praying for the disaster or wrath of the gods to cease.

"Why would such a terrible disaster happen here?"

But no one could give him an answer.

Countless images of world destruction filled Viserys's mind, as if he had experienced this catastrophic event firsthand. He played various roles in the disaster, experiencing the 'first-person perspective' of many people caught in the catastrophe.

The cycle continued, endlessly entwined.

However, the catastrophe finally came to a halt, dissipating into a black mist that vanished among the vast clouds of smoke.

The psychological torment that Viserys experienced in his dreams ceased as well.

As everything vanished, darkness took over his sight. The boy lying in bed seemed to gradually regain his spirit. Soon, he heard a series of vague sounds around him, including hushed conversations and the soft sobbing of a girl.

Finally, he felt a raspy tongue lick his cheek, as if trying to awaken him.

Viserys slowly opened his eyes, but at this moment, he was completely drained of energy, as if he had just recovered from a severe illness.

Devoid of strength, he lay in bed, barely moving his fingers.

His throat was unbearably parched, like cracked, arid land. His dry lips slightly puckered, and he requested a glass of water in a hoarse voice.

"Water…get me a glass of water."

The small black cat was the first to notice that Viserys had awakened. As it licked the boy's cheek, it saw his eyes open and tilted its head slightly, its green eyes seemingly gleeful.

Next to hear Viserys' voice was the girl sobbing beside his bed.

"Huh, Viserys, you're awake?!"

The brown-haired girl, tears streaming down her face, was overjoyed to hear Viserys' voice, which alerted the others in the room.

Queen Rhaella, Viserys' mother, hurried to his side. An experienced maester brought a cup of warm water and gently helped Viserys sit up against the headboard.

First, he moistened the boy's parched throat.

"My child, how are you feeling?"

The queen sat beside her son, but Viserys' mind was still somewhat foggy. He managed to answer a few questions before succumbing to sleep once more.

This time, Queen Rhaella didn't allow anyone to disturb Viserys, giving him some peace and quiet to sleep.

In her view, Viserys had endured too many events in a short period, suffering severe shock and stress, exhaustion from traveling, and illness that caused a fever and a day-long coma.

His beloved brother had died, forcing him to flee King's Landing in haste. He had encountered an attack en route, bravely killed an enemy, and arrived at Duskendale without much rest.

Then, he spent several days at sea before reaching Dragonstone. He had barely arrived when his mother hastily crowned him.

Viserys must have been exhausted. After all, he was only a seven-year-old child.

Queen Rhaella felt guilty, reflecting on her actions. It was Viserys who comforted his mother, assuring her that he was fine and only needed some rest.

Once everyone had left the bedroom, Viserys, who had been 'asleep,' opened his eyes.

His pale purple eyes seemed even brighter than before. Sitting up, he glanced at the mirror on the bedside table, which reflected light from the sunrays piercing through the curtain gaps.

Three seconds later, a black mist arrived as promised.

[Viserys Targaryen]

Sun Essence: 5

Earth Essence: 6

Water Essence: 8

Moon Essence: 20

The silver-haired boy in the mirror still possessed an otherworldly handsome face, though slightly pale and haggard.

His silver hair appeared even more dazzling than before, like molten silver draped over his young shoulders.

However, Viserys didn't overly concern himself with his beauty, as it was destined to accompany him throughout his life.

Instead, his gaze focused on the black mist, visible only to him.

"Moon Essence... 20."

This indicated that his mental prowess had already far surpassed that of ordinary people. Yet now, it had incredibly jumped from 18 to 20, reaching twice the level of a normal adult.

No...

Perhaps this multiplier didn't work in such a straightforward manner.

The abilities manifested by the black mist might become increasingly difficult to advance as they grew more profound.

Moreover, when his Moon Essence reached 20, it seemed to awaken a very powerful special ability.

(To be continued.)

Chapter 16: The Blink of an eye

"The Blink of an eye—"

The silver-haired boy sat at the edge of the bed, his pale violet eyes suddenly deepening, revealing a faintly intricate pattern resembling a hexagram magic circle, emitting a soft golden glow.

The boy's eyes in the silver-coated round mirror radiated a faint gold, and his demeanor seemed to change abruptly, becoming somewhat cold and quiet.

As his gaze swept across his field of vision, everything around him seemed to slow down, including himself, the dust drifting slowly in the fragmented sunlight on the windowsill, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and his hand that slowly lifted due to shock.

Then, his brain felt as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer.

Boom—

The boy fell onto the floor, gasping for air, and closed his eyes in pain.

"Damn it."

Everything before his eyes vanished, the faint hexagram magic circle in his eyes disappeared, and his aura returned to its previous state.

The pain in his pupils, like a needle prick, forced him to stop, and his brain felt somewhat sore.

However, in that instant, he had seen many things. Time seemed to have frozen in that second, and the movement of everything around him slowed dramatically in his eyes.

"It hurts."

Viserys sat on the edge of the bed, covering his eyes with both hands, but tears still flowed uncontrollably, gasping for air. It took him a while to regain his composure.

He now knew what the special ability he had acquired upon reaching the 20th Moon Awakening was.

It was a dynamic vision ability, similar to the legendary "bullet time", which allowed him to slow down all movement around him in his eyes.

"This ability... is very useful!"

He didn't need to think twice.

Viserys understood the benefits this special ability brought him.

It could give him more time to react and judge in dangerous situations, allowing him to turn calamities into blessings, and also gain an advantage in evenly matched battles.

Reaching the 20th Moon, this extraordinary mental power gave him more abilities, beyond just his photographic memory.

In fact, the Blink of an eye did not actually slow down time, but rather, because of his strong mental power, his mind quickly constructed the movements of others at first glance.

The result was that the movements appeared 'slower' in his eyes, but in reality, it was not that the others had slowed down, but rather that his reaction time had become quicker.

However.

His joy was short-lived, and Viserys soon composed himself and regained his calm demeanor.

"The road ahead is long."

After all, this was a world filled with mysterious and enigmatic powers, and the fact that he could be reborn from another world and take the place of Viserys Targaryen was already fantastical enough.

So much so that other things no longer fazed him.

And so...

He kept this secret hidden deep within himself, not telling anyone that he could see the mysterious black mist.

Ever since he realized that the black mist could strengthen his body and even his soul, his attitude towards it changed. It was no longer just a playful matter; he treated it with more seriousness and caution.

"Next time, I can try practicing more and control the intensity of this power."

After a brief rest, Viserys's eyes had fully recovered, but he didn't rush to use the Blink of an eye ability again.

He feared that repeated experimentation in a short period would affect his eyesight, as he didn't want to wear glasses again in this life.

However, as Viserys reflected on his first attempt at using the power, he realized that he hadn't controlled the intensity well, releasing it all at once. Now, he thought, he could consciously limit the release.

"That may not slow it down significantly, but it will extend the usage time, and the side effects won't be as pronounced."

He wouldn't uncontrollably shed tears as he had before.

Viserys pondered in silence, feeling his way like crossing a river by touching stones. There was no one to offer advice or assistance; he had to rely on his own guesses and inferences.

...

Days later.

Disturbing news arrived.

A raven, having traveled from the continent of Westeros by hitching a ride on several ships, reached Dragonstone Island.

This cunning raven had saved much of its energy, fluttering down to land on top of Sea Dragon Tower, the tower facing the ocean and resembling a slumbering dragon.

The tower's stairs were narrow and winding, and just below the ravenry at the top were the chambers of the maesters. Due to Rhaegar's neglect of Dragonstone affairs, only Maester Daniel resided there now.

Fluttering—

The raven's wings shook the silver bell on a thread, and a pale-faced Maester Daniel hurriedly climbed the stairs, took the letter from the raven, read it, and then his face turned pale.

He quickly descended the narrow staircase, rushing towards the garden near Dragon Tail Gate.

At that moment.

Viserys was practicing his swordsmanship in the Aegon Garden.

"Thrust!"

"Slash!"

Sir William, who had been seriously injured not long ago, was still healing from his rib injury, wrapped in bandages, but was now able to walk.

He stood in the shade of a dark tree, coaching Viserys on his swordplay.

Following the middle-aged tutor's instructions, Viserys practiced diligently, carefully swinging his longsword. Due to the height mismatch, the sword seemed like a greatsword in his hands.

The boy gripped the sword hilt with both hands, his movements constrained by the weight, but he still tried to correct his actions, striving for perfection. Sweat dripped from his forehead.

Sir William, with unhealed wounds, looked pale as he watched the boy practicing swordsmanship in the sunny meadow.

Although his face was expressionless, surprise could be seen in his eyes.

"How did this child manage it?"

He remembered that not long ago, the boy had struggled to lift the sword.

Yet now, he could handle it with ease.

"Could it be that Viserys truly possesses a talent equal to his brother?"

Rhaegar had been the most talented knight he had ever seen, proficient with any weapon.

But now, Viserys's astonishing rate of progress made him question whether his offhand remark might have actually become a prophecy.

Even Viserys's height seemed to have increased by a few centimeters, though it could just be his imagination.

Although the boy was still slender, with silver hair cascading down his shoulders and a youthful face, there was something about him that gave Sir William a sense of growth.

Especially those pale purple eyes, like precious gems.

Every time Viserys looked at him, the middle-aged tutor felt a slight flutter in his heart.

"This…" (To be continued.)

Chapter 17: Embers of Rage

Viserys seemed to have become an entirely different person, diligently working harder than ever before.

William Darry, having served as the Master-at-Arms of the Red Keep for many years, had practically watched Viserys grow up. In his memory, the prince was never an easy student to teach, often mischievous and even somewhat stubborn.

When Viserys initially sought his instruction in swordsmanship, William didn't take it too seriously, assuming the boy would likely give up after a couple of days due to the hard work.

However, when they were attacked later on, the silver-haired boy displayed the courage of a true warrior, earning William's admiration.

The moment Viserys personally killed Kevan Lannister and attempted but failed to sever his head was when the Master-at-Arms was truly astonished.

The image of an innocent-looking young boy holding a longsword, trying to cut off his enemy's head, only for the sword to become stuck in the neck as blood sprayed across his face—this striking contrast was something William would never forget.

"Perhaps the recent string of terrible events has truly shaken him," he thought.

The middle-aged man with slightly curly hair was well aware of the many recent incidents, which were difficult for even an adult to bear.

Nevertheless, he was delighted to see the complete transformation in Viserys, attributing it to the severe shock the boy had experienced.

His loyalty to the Iron Throne was unwavering, just like his brother who served as a Kingsguard.

As such, he naturally hoped for Viserys to rise above it all. Only when Viserys became a true 'dragon' could House Targaryen, in the future, make a triumphant return and exact their vengeance.

The middle-aged man stood in place, lost in thought while holding his wooden sword with one hand.

Just then...

Maester Daniel, advanced in years and with an unsteady gait, hurried past them with great effort. He simply nodded at the Master-at-Arms and Viserys as a greeting, then continued on his way.

"Huh?"

"What's going on?"

Sir William scratched his head in confusion, while Viserys, panting from exhaustion, sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow.

The boy stared at the old maester's retreating figure for a moment before turning back to ask a question.

"Could the maester's hurried pace cause him to trip and fall?"

His swordsmanship instructor hesitated for a moment, then looked down at his pupil.

At times, Viserys seemed as mature as an adult, and at other times as childish as a little kid...

No, he was still just a little imp.

Ser William couldn't quite figure out if Viserys was putting on some kind of act.

At this moment, all he could do was shake his head and explain.

"If the maester is in such a hurry, something important must have happened."

The instructor furrowed his brow, speaking in a somewhat somber tone.

"Moreover, his face looked terrible. It's likely... that this matter isn't good."

...

The gardens of Aegon were filled with the pleasant scent of pine, and tall dark trees sprouted from the ground all around.

There were wild roses and towering brambles, and cranberries grew in the muddy soil.

Viserys and his instructor practiced swordplay in the distance, while Queen Rhaella played with her granddaughter Rhaenys on the other side.

Initially, Rhaenys wanted to join Viserys in play, but the queen told her not to disturb her uncle's training.

Viserys was Queen Rhaella's last hope. She wished that her youngest son could become a pillar of the Targaryen family, just like his renowned elder brother, and reclaim the Iron Throne's rule.

At that moment, Maester Daniel arrived, staggering in haste.

The old maester whispered something into the silver-haired woman's ear before handing her a sealed, anonymous letter.

It contained secret intelligence from King's Landing, sent by someone who outwardly supported the Baratheons but still held allegiance to the Targaryen claimants to the Iron Throne.

The intelligence detailed recent events in King's Landing, including a multitude of terrible news, even the minutiae. Many major events had taken place before this informant's eyes, making the information more accurate than recent rumors.

Initially, Queen Rhaella was somewhat puzzled by the old maester's words.

They had hidden on Dragonstone, with a loyal Targaryen fleet, while the Baratheons lacked a strong navy.

Dragonstone was at least temporarily safe.

Then, the silver-haired woman unfolded the intelligence received from Maester Daniel, her gaze shifting slightly.

However, after only a few glances, Queen Rhaella's face changed dramatically. Tears welled up in her reddened eyes, and she covered her mouth with a delicate hand as they began to flow.

"Your Grace, the Queen."

Fortunately, the old maester reacted quickly and supported her, or else Queen Rhaella might have fainted on the spot.

The letter brought a slew of terrible news.

But the headline was undoubtedly a bolt from the blue, so much so that Queen Rhaella couldn't bear to look at it any longer after just a glimpse.

She then broke down into tears.

Rhaenys, who was accompanying her grandmother, stood frozen on the spot, feeling rather helpless.

The young girl knew nothing about the situation, not even that her father had died. And even if she did know, she might not be able to comprehend it.

Soon, Viserys and the middle-aged sword master, who had been practicing swordsmanship not far away, hurried over after witnessing the scene.

The sword master didn't look at the letter, while Viserys picked it up and skimmed through it, falling silent.

"This..."

Although he didn't remember some of the events clearly, he had a rough idea about them.

He understood that all of this was inescapable fate, especially since he didn't have the power to change the situation.

That's why he was so desperate to practice swordsmanship, not to achieve grand ambitions, nor to exact blood vengeance for House Targaryen in the future.

In fact, since arriving in this world, he had never met his father, the origin of all the stories, the infamous "Mad King" Aerys Targaryen II.

He hadn't seen him even once.

And then, in haste, he was put on a carriage and fled from King's Landing.

Thus, he never considered any grand ambitions or vengeance.

All he wanted to do was change his own fate, struggle to survive, and not end up as a "beggar king" or die with a golden crown on his head.

"Monsters..."

Finally, the silver-haired boy crouching on the ground clenched his teeth and let out a sound.

Even though he had no previous emotional attachment, saving Rhaenys had just been a reflex action. He even thought that if his father sent soldiers after them, he would hand Rhaenys back to them.

But now...

Once the past words turned into a bloody reality, his nephew Aegon's head was smashed against the wall, and his sister-in-law, Princess Elia, was raped and killed by the Mountain, who still had Aegon's blood and brains on his hands.

This horrifying brutality would enrage even the most cowardly, let alone him.

Chapter 18: The Prince in the Prophecy

"I swear, one day, I will personally slay those murderers."

"Mother."

A few days ago.

The silver-haired boy made a solemn promise to his mother with one hand on his sword. In the future, he would seek retribution on behalf of House Targaryen.

Viserys hoped that his words could bring some comfort to his grief-stricken mother.

However, despite the boy's ambitious aspirations, evading the pursuit of House Baratheon and surviving were the most important matters at hand.

After enduring more than half a month of torment, Viserys finally accepted that he had arrived in a strange world. No... this world was not entirely unfamiliar.

Once, he had merely observed the unfolding events as a passerby. But now, the silver-haired boy understood that the sense of danger was all too real.

His tragic fate, as dictated by the original course of events, was like a rope tied around Viserys's neck.

It constantly reminded him that if he didn't work hard and make some changes, he would be left with only one path when fate finally caught up with him: death.

His very existence ensured that even if he did nothing, House Baratheon would not let him be.

After promising his mother that he would seek vengeance on their enemies, Viserys began training like a madman in the following days.

People who've just found their purpose are often highly motivated, and a knight's training involves more than just swordsmanship. It includes horsemanship, spear-fighting, archery, curved blade combat, and more...

However, Viserys overexerted himself, successfully injuring himself in the process.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch..."

The silver-haired boy grimaced as he sat in the chair.

The old maester smiled kindly, having seen such overzealous children before. Viserys's grandfather, Jaehaerys, had done similar foolish things in his time.

Due to his frail health, Jaehaerys had once sought to improve his physical condition through rigorous exercise, but he ended up hurting himself instead.

"I know you're eager for vengeance, child, and there's nothing wrong with that," the old maester said as he applied ice to the injured area on the silver-haired boy for pain relief. He then gently dried the area with a towel.

"But remember not to let hatred blind you. It's only a small part of your life."

"You are a Targaryen, the future 'true dragon.' You should have a more noble and important mission..."

Viserys sat on the bench, looking at the white-haired, wrinkled-faced old maester before him, listening to his words.

Although he could understand every word, when they were put together, he felt as if the old maester was hinting at something deeper.

A more noble, more important mission?

With his molten-silver hair draped over his young shoulders, Viserys tilted his head in confusion. His pale purple eyes reflected the old maester's face.

But the old man seemed not to notice his curious gaze. His words stopped abruptly, and he didn't explain what this more noble and important mission was. Instead, he subtly changed the subject.

"While the knight's code is an ancient noble tradition, knowledge is even more important for an outstanding noble."

The old maester changed the subject and offered earnest advice.

He had seen Viserys working hard to undergo knightly training recently.

Hard work and dedication were good things, but he worried that Viserys might neglect the importance of knowledge and become a brute who only knew how to fight.

Compared to charging into battle, the destructive power of using one's mind was undoubtedly much stronger.

He did not want Viserys to become entirely like a ranger, for he might never become the 'prince in the prophecy.'

Maester Daniel was also one of those who knew about the prophecy. Having personally taught Rhaegar, he naturally earned the prince's trust.

The prophecy stated that King Aerys II and Queen Rhaella would give birth to the prince in the prophecy. The source of this prophecy was a witch, but its origin traced back to an ancient book from Asshai written 5,000 years ago.

A legendary hero who lived about 8,000 years ago, Azor Ahai, would be reborn. The prophesied prince would battle the White Walkers.

All this would happen after the long summer when darkness falls. The 'prince' would summon the Lightbringer to fight the White Walkers. If he were to fail, the entire world would never recover.

"After the long summer, the stars will weep, and the cold darkness will cover the world. In this terrifying moment, a warrior will pull a burning sword from the fire – the Lightbringer, the red sword of heroes. The bearer of this sword is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, and he will drive away the darkness."

Initially, all those who knew the prophecy believed Rhaegar would be the 'prince in the prophecy,' for he was near perfect. Almost everyone who saw the prince would praise him without hesitation.

However, from the moment Robert Baratheon's hammer struck Rhaegar's chest at the Battle of the Trident, everyone realized that Rhaegar was not the prince in the prophecy.

Then, attention turned to Rhaegar's younger brother – the silver-haired boy standing before them – Viserys Targaryen, for he too was the child of Aerys and Rhaella...

But he was not born in the 'land of smoke and salt.'

"Perhaps."

Maester Daniel sighed inexplicably.

Viserys did not understand the old maester's gaze, only hearing what he had just said.

He knew the importance of knowledge, but he also understood the desperate need for self-preservation at present. After all, he was destined to wander for a long time in the future.

"I understand."

Viserys obediently nodded slightly.

Inside the tower.

The bright sunlight shone through the window, filling the entire room. An old and a young sat at a table, the atmosphere unexpectedly harmonious. Since coming to this world, Viserys had lived under immense pressure, followed by constant flight.

Now, on Dragonstone, beside this old man, he felt a rare respite.

"My child."

"Are you beginning to feel anxious about the future?"

Maester Daniel's back was slightly hunched, but he appeared healthy. Dressed in a gray robe, his piercing eyes seemed to see through the boy's thoughts.

The fate of House Targaryen was clear to all. King's Landing had been breached, and the remaining royalists had no reason to continue fighting.

The reason there was no ceasefire yet was to gain a better bargaining chip at the negotiation table – to obtain more benefits, or at least not lose too badly and recover some ground.

Viserys, however, remained silent for a long time.

In the end, he nodded.

Chapter 20: 19: The Siege of Storm's End

On Dragonstone Island, an old man and a young boy were in conversation. The old maester relieved Viserys' inner anxiety, telling him that no matter what he encountered in the future, be it joy or sorrow, he must maintain inner peace. Only by remaining calm could he make the most accurate judgments.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, more than two months had passed since Viserys had arrived at Dragonstone. Life on the island was tranquil and peaceful, devoid of war and power struggles. The idyllic environment made one want to give up the fight and live out their days in quiet contentment.

Although Viserys no longer felt the anxiety he once did, a sense of urgency still lingered. He knew that the Baratheon family on the other side of the sea would not leave them be. During this time, Viserys trained in swordsmanship under Ser William and also studied with the old maester to broaden his knowledge.

Through the maester's teachings, Viserys deepened his understanding of the world. He had once looked at it through a hazy lens, but now he was gradually becoming part of it. The maester told him that what a noble should learn was not how to govern their land, develop the economy, or advance agriculture. These things could be learned from the maesters of the castle or through correspondence with the Citadel.

Instead, the maester urged Viserys to study the history of noble families, remember the lessons of the past, and memorize their sigils and words so as not to cause offense when meeting them in the future. For the nobility, this was of the utmost importance—even for a king.

Viserys was somewhat perplexed by this reasoning but had no choice but to follow the advice. His mother, Queen Rhaella, personally supervised his studies as all her hopes and expectations rested on her youngest son.

Viserys bore the weight of these expectations, feeling immense pressure. Queen Rhaella, who had already been pregnant when they left King's Landing, was beginning to show after three months. Far from the horrors of war and fear, she could now focus on nurturing her unborn child, no longer having to worry about her husband's abuse or the outcome of the war.

Now, all Queen Rhaella hoped for was that the child in her womb would be a girl. Having raised only Rhaegar and Viserys, apart from the children who died young, Rhaella wished for a daughter to fill the void in her life.

Life on Dragonstone was peaceful, with the last Targaryen fleet guarding the sea, blocking the entrance to Blackwater Bay. The Baratheons, now without ships, had inevitably slowed their pursuit.

On the continent of Westeros, with no sea to hinder them, the rebel forces that invaded King's Landing had become the legitimate rulers. The royalist forces faced a rapid decline and were in constant retreat.

Two months after the fall of King's Landing, House Tyrell of the Riverlands finally reached a peace agreement with the usurpers.

The siege of Storm's End was lifted.

With the mournful and lingering sound of the horn, the southern army that had besieged Storm's End for a year finally withdrew, preparing to return home.

Following the Tyrell army were knights from the North.

Rumble—

The banners of the Direwolf fluttered, appearing on the horizon, followed by a dense mass of soldiers as far as the eye could see.

Countless warhorses trampled the grasslands, and the raised spears shone with an icy chill in the sunlight.

Leading the Northern army was Eddard Stark, the Lord who had argued with Robert and left King's Landing. The man carried the ancestral weapon 'Ice' on his back and sat atop a towering warhorse.

Without losing a single soldier, the Northmen lifted the siege of Storm's End without any battle.

Rumble—

The gates of Storm's End, closed for a year, finally opened once more.

Stannis Baratheon, who had been stubbornly resisting within Storm's End and restraining the southern army's main force, was even forced to eat rats.

However, after the siege was lifted, he received a new mission.

His elder brother Robert ordered him to build warships and train the royal navy at Storm's End.

He was to cooperate with the recently surrendered Lord Redwyne and the fleet from the Arbor that had been blockading Storm's End from the sea.

Their goal was to attack Dragonstone and capture the fleeing Rhaella and Viserys Targaryen.

Robert, who deeply hated the Targaryen family, swore to eradicate them root and branch. He did not want any silver-haired, purple-eyed individuals to remain in this world and was determined to chase them to the ends of the earth.

However, Stannis, who had been trapped in Storm's End and forced to eat rats, was not a magnanimous person. He was silent and stubborn, like a rock in a toilet.

The fact that he didn't kill the detestable fat Mace Tyrell and Lord Redwyne at the victory feast showed that he was extremely calm.

Stannis would never cooperate with the Arbor fleet, but he knew the importance of capturing Dragonstone and exterminating the Targaryens.

Thus, the stubborn man wasted no time. As soon as the siege of Storm's End was lifted and supplies began pouring in, he set about building the Baratheon fleet and training the navy.

Lord Eddard, who had lifted the siege of Storm's End, wore no smile on his face. His serious expression kept people at a distance, and he didn't even crack a smile during the victory feast.

This was because his most important concern was unresolved: his sister Lyanna Stark, who had been abducted by Rhaegar Targaryen and was also Robert's betrothed, was still missing.

After arguing with Robert in King's Landing, Eddard led his troops south to finish the remaining battles, while also searching for his sister's whereabouts.

Now that the war was over, Eddard received a clue that Rhaegar had arranged for Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, Ser Oswell Whent, and Kingsguard Captain Ser Gerold Hightower to escort Lyanna towards Dorne.

However, Dorne denied any knowledge of Lyanna Stark's arrival and made it clear that she was not welcome.

Eddard suspected that the three Kingsguard might have hidden his sister somewhere along the border between Dorne and the Riverlands.

Yet, Eddard did not want to wage war against the powerful Dorne, especially considering that even the Conqueror, Aegon, had faced troubles in that region.

The Lord of Winterfell was deeply troubled by this situation.

Chapter 21: Chapter 20, Conquest Year 284

Year 283 AC.

Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, personally led his army to break the siege of Riverrun.

After a brief stay in Riverrun, the Northern cavalry continued southward, crossing the border of the Riverlands and heading toward Dorne.

There were only three ways to enter Dorne from the south by land: the closest to Riverrun was the Boneway, the Prince's Pass, and the pass on the Red Mountains east of Oldtown.

As the majority of the Northern army was cavalry, they did not choose the difficult Boneway, but rather the more direct Prince's Pass.

With the Lord of Winterfell marching his army south, Dorne naturally prepared for war in full force.

However, a raven soon arrived, clearing up the misunderstanding. Eddard Stark, honoring his word, kept his army outside of the Prince's Pass.

He brought only six men with him: Ethan Glover, Martin Cassel, Theo Wull, Howland Reed, William Dustin, and Mark Ryswell. With Dorne's permission, they crossed the border and ventured deep into Dornish territory to search for Eddard's sister, Lyanna Stark.

Eventually, Eddard and his companions found Lyanna and the three missing Kingsguard members near the Tower of Joy, close to the Vulture's Roost.

A fierce battle broke out between the seven Northerners and the three Kingsguard. However, the details of the fight remained unknown to anyone but the ten participants.

People only knew that the Lord of Winterfell emerged victorious, but at a heavy cost: only one of his companions and himself survived.

Afterward, Eddard went to Starfall to return the legendary sword Dawn, once wielded by Ser Arthur Dayne. He then left Dorne with the body of his sister and the only surviving companion, Howland Reed.

The war of the usurper, which began in 281 AC and continued until 283 AC, finally came to a close with the Battle at the Tower of Joy.

The Targaryen family was completely driven from the Iron Throne, and most of its members were slaughtered, with only a few survivors.

The leader of the rebels, Robert, finally ascended the Iron Throne. In the Great Sept of Baelor, he was anointed with holy oil and recited the oaths. Crowned King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, Robert I Baratheon.

With the exception of Dorne, the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros were reunited under the name of the new king.

Dong—

The sound of bells rang throughout King's Landing.

The new king stood atop the towering steps of the Great Sept of Baelor, his tall figure casting a mountainous shadow. His subjects kneeled before him, congratulating him on his coronation.

"Honorable Jon Arryn, my lord!"

With his black hair and vigorous demeanor, the king spoke, his voice not diminished by the melodious sound of the bells, echoing throughout the sept.

"I hereby appoint you as the Hand of the King and Prime Minister."

The new King Robert personally pinned the Hand of the King's badge onto his foster father, the Lord of the Eyrie, Jon Arryn.

"Your Grace, I fear I am not competent enough to assume this position."

The nearly sixty-year-old Lord, with his white hair, bowed slightly, attempting to kneel and decline the honor, but King Robert laughed heartily, helping him back to his feet.

Ha ha ha ha, by the Seven."

King Robert continued to laugh as he helped the old Lord up, his warm laughter filling the air. It was a new beginning for Westeros under King Robert's rule, and the once divided realm was now united once more, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.

In the following days, the new king's reign saw many changes. Alliances were forged, and the wounds of the recent war began to heal. The people of Westeros now looked to the future with a mixture of hope and trepidation, knowing that peace was fragile and could be shattered at any moment.

For the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, the loss of his sister Lyanna weighed heavily on his heart. He returned to the North with a renewed sense of purpose, dedicating himself to the protection of his people and the preservation of their way of life.

As the seasons changed, the stories of heroism, love, and loss in the War of the Usurper became the stuff of legend, passed down through generations. And so, Westeros continued to spin its tales of triumph and tragedy, a never-ending cycle of power and intrigue.

"Lord Arryn!"

The young king's voice rang out like a great bell, his laughter hearty and contagious.

"If you, with your abilities, are not fit to be the Hand of the King, then I fear there is no one more suitable in all of the Seven Kingdoms."

Despite his laughter, when he mentioned the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon's smile faded slightly.

The Seven Kingdoms were not yet fully united; Dorne had not willingly submitted to the Iron Throne's change of power, and it remained a tough bone to chew.

This became a major concern for Robert Baratheon, for if Dorne persisted in supporting the Targaryens, Westeros might be plagued by endless war for decades to come.

Thus,

The first task for the newly appointed Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, was to journey to Dorne, the southernmost region of Westeros, and attempt to quell the anger ignited by the deaths of Prince Lewyn and Princess Elia Martell.

"I will do my utmost."

In the Great Sept of Baelor,

Under the watchful gaze of the Seven, the elderly Lord coughed violently before finally nodding in agreement.

At the new king's coronation, Robert's brother Stannis naturally appeared.

The young man, not yet thirty, already had a receding hairline that caused worry. Stannis's face remained perpetually stern, his lips tightly drawn.

His fleet at Dragonstone had not yet been fully assembled; the construction of warships and the training of soldiers all required time.

But Robert had lost patience and could not wait any longer. He was in a good mood, but when he saw his brother, as rigid and unpleasant as a stone in a latrine, his smile faded.

At the same time, he could no longer bear the thought of the "spawn of the abomination" still breathing.

So, at the coronation ceremony, the newly sworn Lord of the Hightower, Paxter Redwyne, was ordered to lead an attack on Dragonstone.

...

March, Year 284 AC.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, Viserys had spent over six months on Dragonstone.

Queen Rhaella's belly grew larger by the day, and the castle's servants began to speculate whether it would be a new prince or princess.

During this time, Viserys practiced swordplay under the tutelage of Ser William and expanded his knowledge under the guidance of the old maester.

But unexpected events always seemed to take one by surprise.

Illness struck like a falling mountain.

The octogenarian Maester Danyel suddenly fell ill as winter approached. In this medically underdeveloped age, living to this age was already quite advanced.

The old maester's body could no longer endure the torment of his illness. His face was pale as paper, and he was emaciated. Finally, on his deathbed, he made his last request, clutching Viserys's hand as he drew his final breath.

The lamplight in the sickroom flickered, darkness enveloped the outside.

Deep into the night.

Queen Rhaella wept loudly, another blow following the deaths of her eldest son and husband. Already frail and pregnant, her depression accumulated another layer.

Sir Daevi Sand, the steward, also stood in the sickroom, his eyes flickering slightly. Beside him was the now-recovered master-at-arms of the Red Keep.

Ser William Darry's injuries had healed, but lingering issues remained. After all, he had been gravely wounded and had traveled a long way on horseback. He was grateful to be alive.

This winter had been difficult for him as well. His old injuries flared up, causing him agonizing pain.

Viserys, whose hand had been held by the old maester, stood by the bedside, silently watching as the maester took his last breath.

At that moment,

Boom—

A long alarm bell rang out from the direction of the Dragonstone lighthouse, reaching far into the silent night.

Chapter 21: The Battle of Dragonstone

Lord Paxter Redwyne's fleet approached under the cover of darkness, preparing for a stealthy attack.

Whoosh—

The warships cut through the waves, cloaked in the stillness of the night. All lights were extinguished as they silently neared Dragonstone.

The sea winds howled.

The soldiers on the ships gripped their weapons, standing nervously on the decks, waiting for fate to descend upon them.

No one could guarantee their survival in the upcoming battle.

However, despite Lord Redwyne's well-planned surprise attack, there was a flaw in its execution.

The assault was detected by Dragonstone's forces.

A patrolling longship spotted the silent fleet from the Arbor in the waters, quickly sounding an alarm, alerting the distant lighthouse, and ultimately stirring the entire garrison of Dragonstone.

Boom—

The next moment, thunderous war drums erupted.

Under the command of Ser Joffrey, the last fleet still loyal to the Targaryens boldly engaged the enemy, initiating a standoff on the open seas.

The alarm bell from Dragonstone's lighthouse sounded long and loud, warning everyone on the island to be vigilant and defend against the enemy's attack.

Queen Rhaella, pregnant and emotionally distressed, was quickly moved to the castle for rest.

The steward, Shade, and the master-at-arms hurried to the shore, standing on the soft sand, gazing into the distance.

Viserys wished to join them, longing to witness a real battle. However, his request was heartlessly denied.

As the only known Targaryen boy, Viserys' safety represented more than just his own life.

Reluctantly, the silver-haired boy was led by a handmaid into the castle, where two guards were stationed outside his bedroom door for his "protection" at the master-at-arms' special request.

Bang—

The heavy brown wooden door of the bedroom was firmly closed and bolted.

The two fully armed guards stood guard on either side of the entrance, preventing Viserys from sneaking out.

Viserys was confined to his room, his freedom restricted. The boy sat on the soft bed for a while, running his fingers through his curly silver hair.

Finally, he sighed in frustration.

"Really..."

Compared to six months ago, Viserys' room in Dragonstone was now furnished with more items.

An old, short bedside table held a half-burned candle casting light, and a book with a bookmark laid on its surface. It was a book about the continent of Essos, detailing the experiences of a traveler.

Viserys found such books fascinating and would read them for a while before going to sleep every night.

A bookcase on the other side of the room was filled with various books. Even without the old maester's reminder, Viserys knew the importance of knowledge.

At the time, he had been frightened by the attack and worried about the future, causing him to obsessively practice swordsmanship for self-preservation.

However, he now understood that swordsmanship could not be mastered in a day or two.

Viserys' gaze then fell on a brown wooden chest in the corner of the room. He jumped off the bed and walked over to it.

Thump—

The sound of horns still echoed outside the window, and the rumble of war drums filled the air, faintly accompanied by the cries of battle.

The silver-haired boy could feel his heart pounding in time with the thunderous sounds, his blood boiling as it coursed through his body.

Viserys clutched a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his accelerating heartbeat.

He didn't know why he felt this way, but the sensation was imbuing him with a fearless courage.

Even though he was just a seven-year-old child.

"Fire and Blood."

The boy didn't know why he suddenly recited the Targaryen family motto, but he opened the wooden chest in the corner, revealing the items inside.

A custom-made set of small leather armor lay neatly arranged, along with a similarly tailored short sword, already sharpened.

Though not sharp enough to cut through iron like mud, at least during his daily practice, Viserys could use this 'short sword' to decapitate a straw mannequin in one stroke.

Viserys put on his leather armor and fastened his short sword.

Then, he moved a small stool over, stepped on it, and climbed up to the narrow window on the wall, poking his head out to look down below.

The nighttime sea breeze played with the boy's silver-gold hair, brushing it softly against his fair forehead.

A pair of pale purple eyes, clear as water, gazed out at the battlefield, where the sounds of fierce combat echoed under the dark night.

"May everything go smoothly," he whispered, closing his eyes and praying softly.

He wasn't a mischievous child who loved to cause trouble, and of course, he wouldn't try to escape through the window.

And then... fall to his death.

Viserys' bedroom was located in a high tower at the edge of the castle, and jagged rocks lay beneath the window. Jumping down from there would almost certainly lead to his demise.

But he didn't plan to run away; he was just a little panicked in the face of his first encounter with war and didn't know with whom to share his unease.

Putting on his small equipment was just a way to offer himself some psychological comfort.

...

In the distance, far from Viserys' line of sight, the sea churned with waves.

Nearly a hundred warships of various sizes from two fleets sailed across the turbulent waters.

A mournful, long horn call sounded.

The fleet from Greenstone Island, their banners clear, arranged themselves into formation, and under the cover of numerous longships, three even larger and higher-tonnage galleys charged towards the Dragonstone Island fleet.

The Dragonstone Island fleet, seemingly less prepared, hurriedly left the harbor without having time to properly form up, and faced the assault of the Redwyne fleet.

However, their response was equally impressive.

The sea winds howled.

The sound of horns continuously rang out from all directions, resonating in the eardrums and involuntarily stirring the blood.

Paxter Redwyne, the naval admiral and Master of Ships during the reign of Aerys II Targaryen, stood on the largest of the three galleys in the Greenstone Island fleet, wearing a blue and white woolen coat, the emblem of a purple grape on a blue field embroidered on his chest.

His appearance wasn't as imposing as one might expect of a seasoned naval commander; he was actually a small, somewhat sleazy-looking middle-aged man.

His shoulders were slightly slumped, and a few strands of sparse orange-yellow hair struggled against the sea wind atop his head.

In the distance, Dragonstone Island answered with the sound of their own horns, accompanied by the low, solemn peal of bells.

As the two fleets inched closer, the tension in the air grew thicker. The clash of iron and wood would soon resound across the waters as the opposing forces met in battle.

Meanwhile, Viserys continued to stand at the window, straining to hear the distant sounds of conflict. He knew that the outcome of this battle would have a profound impact on the future of his house and his people.

As the minutes turned to hours, the sounds of war continued to echo through the night. The silver-haired boy, unable to tear himself away from the window, stood watch with bated breath, his heart racing in his chest.

As dawn approached, the clamor of battle began to fade, replaced by the cries of wounded men and the groans of dying ships. Slowly, the boy's eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of victory or defeat.

His gaze fell upon the banners still flying on the battered ships that remained. The sight of the Targaryen sigil – the red, three-headed dragon on a field of black – among those still standing brought a sigh of relief to his lips.

Though the cost of the battle had been great, it seemed that Dragonstone had held firm against the onslaught, securing their place in the ever-shifting game of thrones.

Viserys stepped back from the window, his heart still pounding, but now filled with a renewed sense of hope and determination. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he also knew that the Targaryen line would not be extinguished so easily.

"Fire and blood," he whispered once more, before finally stepping away from the window and retreating to his bed, exhaustion overtaking him as he sank into a restless sleep.

Chapter 22: The Queen of Greenhill

Subsequently, at the command of Lord Redwin, the Greenhill Island fleet began to shift formation, with longships and three-masted warships forming a fan-shaped array on the pitch-black sea.

"Charge!"

Hoo—

The war horns sounded once more, yet this time they rang out longer than ever before, signaling the long-prepared battle was finally to be fully unleashed.

Under the sound of the war horns, every Greenhill Island soldier felt a slight tension within, gripping their weapons tightly.

"Fire!"

Then, the ballistae on the three main ships of the Greenhill Island fleet finally launched simultaneously.

Boom, boom, boom—

A series of thunderous noises from the bowstrings erupted like a blast of thunder, while swiftly launched spears tore through the air. The three main ships unleashed a volley of shots that filled the sky, the spears shrieking as they hurtled toward the distant Dragonstone Island fleet.

"Raise shields—"

Meanwhile, the Dragonstone Island fleet, led by the commander aboard the flagship Black Death, stood ready. His blood-red cloak fluttered in the wind as he adjusted the helmet atop his head, revealing a wisp of white hair at his temples.

The old knight then decisively issued the order to raise shields for defense, protecting the crucial facilities and personnel on the warships.

"Raise shields—"

"Raise shields—"

Following the cascading orders, all the soldiers on the massive warship Black Death stood ready.

Splash.

Holding aloft massive kite shields, four feet tall, made of thick oak and edged with iron, the soldiers quickly moved into position, forming a formidable shield wall with perfect unison.

Shield after shield, emblazoned with the Targaryen family crest of the three-headed dragon, faced the enemy.

"Raise—"

A knight in armor stood on the deck, drawing his longsword from his waist, then slashing down with force.

"Close!"

Boom—

With a synchronized sound, the shield wall was instantly formed, protecting the commander in the center, leaving only a small gap for continued observation of the outside world, virtually airtight.

Sir Joffrey in the center didn't even move a single step, still slightly tilting his head while standing in place.

The fleet defending Dragonstone Island was the Targaryen family's most elite naval force. Unfortunately, its role in the War of the Usurper was not particularly significant.

In this era, land power still held the most decisive influence, while naval power alone could not reverse fortunes or determine the outcome of a large-scale war.

The Dragonstone Island fleet had once been assigned to attack and harass rebel ports such as White Harbor in an attempt to divert the attention of the Northern army.

However, in truth, ever since the Shipburner, Brandon, set ablaze all of his father's warships a hundred years ago, the North has not had any significant naval forces.

They offered no resistance and simply allowed the royal fleet to attack the coastline at will. Even if the Dragonstone navy laid waste to the coastal regions of the North, it wouldn't cause Eddard Stark to bat an eyelid.

After all, the Dragonstone navy, no matter how strong, could not blockade the entire sea, let alone abandon their ships and engage in land combat. The North's weather and cavalry would ensure that the Targaryen soldiers would never return.

...

At the center of the maelstrom of the Battle of Dragonstone, Sir Joffrey, the commander of the Dragonstone fleet, looked into the distance with his head tilted back.

And the next moment.

The black cloud of spears, fired by ballistae, finally arrived.

Pew, pew, pew—

Countless sharp-tipped spears, emitting piercing whistling sounds, plunged directly into the surging sea, splashing waves. The hit rate of these siege weapons deployed on the main ships during naval battles was roughly equivalent to relying on luck.

However, out of the many spears fired in a single volley, a few were fortunate enough to strike the deck of the Black Death, a ship in the Targaryen fleet.

Boom—

The spear, carrying immense force, shattered a shield wall like crushing a piece of biscuit, easily tearing through the formation that the soldiers had created.

One soldier, holding a massive kite shield, was pinned to the deck, and several others were knocked down.

The shield wall was instantly torn open with several wounds, and the soldiers' blood splattered onto the deck. Their bodies, still twitching slightly, let out wretched screams.

This wave of screams sent chills down the spines of all the Targaryen soldiers. Their palms, gripping the shields, began to sweat, and they swallowed hard.

But they still clenched their lips and said nothing, knowing that naval battles were a matter of life and death. If defeated, there would be no escape on the open sea.

However, under the siege weapons of the Queen of Greenstone, their sturdy shields seemed as fragile as paper.

"Counterattack!"

But the commander of the Dragonstone fleet showed no hesitation or fear, still appearing calm and collected, standing in the center of the shield wall. He decisively ordered the Black Death and the other two main ships to retaliate with their trebuchets.

Nobody knew that the old knight's palms were sweaty, too. In such a large-scale naval battle, life and death truly depended on luck.

They prayed for their opponents' trebuchets and ballistae to be inaccurate, for favorable winds and currents, and for their own trebuchets to be more precise.

The even more brutal boarding combat, relying on soldiers leaping onto enemy ships, would take place after both sides' main ships had exchanged fire. However, one side had to take the initiative to charge, or else they would simply continue to bombard each other from a distance.

Following the order from the Dragonstone fleet's commander, the soldiers strained to twist ropes, loading stones into the "spoons" of their trebuchets. The Black Death, the largest warship serving the Targaryen dynasty, finally let out a roar of rage.

Boom, boom, boom—

A series of stones were launched into the sky, carrying tremendous force, flying directly towards the distant Greenstone fleet.

Lord Redwyne, aboard the Greenstone fleet's flagship, the Queen of Greenstone, narrowed his eyes, calmly observing the changes in the battlefield.

Though Greenstone was merely an island known for producing fine wines, the Redwyne family had always placed great emphasis on nurturing their naval forces. They provided a powerful fleet to protect the bays, serving as a maritime barrier for the entire region.

The traditional naval strength of the Greenstone fleet was even comparable to the royal fleet and the Iron Fleet of the Iron Islands.

That's why Paxter Redwyne was able to cooperate with the Tyrell army to blockade Storm's End for a whole year, forcing the trapped Stannis Baratheon to resort to eating horse meat, and eventually resorting to consuming the dead and rats.

But now, the Redwyne family, having already surrendered, accepted the orders of the new king and came to attack Dragonstone.

Two strands of orange-yellow hair fluttered as the man waved his hand.

To counter the incoming assault from the Dragonstone fleet, he ordered his entire force to press forward, with all longships prepared to draw the attention of the Dragonstone fleet and engage in boarding combat.

The most brutal part of this naval battle was about to unfold.

Chapter 23: Lost

Inside Dragonstone.

In the castle's narrow corridors, a row of dragon claw-shaped torch holders extended from the walls. Flames burned fiercely, radiating light and heat.

The main fortress of Dragonstone was entirely constructed of black stone, giving it a somewhat somber and oppressive atmosphere. Those faint of heart walking within might even feel their hair stand on end.

At this moment, the castle's corridors were eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the raging battle taking place on the surrounding seas.

A timid little girl named Rhaenys walked through the silent corridors of the Stone Drum Tower, clutching a ragdoll in her arms. Swallowing nervously, she tentatively called out in a soft voice.

"Hello... Is anyone there?"

Only her echo and the faint sound of the wind returned her call. The silence remained.

Though Rhaenys had been living on Dragonstone for half a year, the brown-haired girl was just four years old.

The castle's grounds were uneven, built on a hillside with winding roads and complex interior rooms. There were even many hidden passages.

And so, Rhaenys was lost.

She had woken up in the middle of the night, wanting to find Viserys. Their rooms were close to one another. However, upon reaching his bedroom, she discovered a messy bed with no sign of him.

Even the queen's handmaid, who had been looking after them both, was nowhere to be found.

Left unattended, Rhaenys was free.

The brave little girl, clutching her ragdoll, ventured out in the middle of the night, determined to find the missing Viserys.

But after wandering around the castle with her doll for a long time, she couldn't find Viserys or Queen Rhaella, both of whom were at the Sea Dragon Tower.

Maester Daniel had suddenly fallen gravely ill, and they were paying their respects.

At that very moment, a distant sound echoed.

The lighthouse of Dragonstone sounded its alarm bell. The deep, distant chime spread across the entire island, striking fear into every heart.

The brown-haired girl had already spent half a day wandering the castle alone, and her heart was racing. Hearing the bell, her small body shivered, and the fear lurking within her grew exponentially.

Biting her lip, she dared not make a sound. She fled, trying to return to her bedroom and hide beneath her covers.

And then... she became hopelessly lost.

The castle was shrouded in darkness at night, except for where the torches burned. The visibility was nothing like it was during the day.

Because of her young age, Rhaenys was usually kept under strict supervision and rarely allowed out at night. Her current situation felt like being in a foreign land.

But, fortunately, the brown-haired girl was braver than most children her age. She didn't burst into tears, but her eyes reddened, and tears threatened to spill.

With one hand on the cold wall and clutching her ragdoll with the other, she listened to the wind whispering in her ears as she groped her way forward.

Above her, the flames flickered with the mysterious wind, casting a distorted shadow on the opposite wall.

"Ah!"

Rhaenys caught sight of her shadow and was startled, her scalp tingling.

Then, she instinctively leaned against the edge of the wall, holding her skirt with one hand.

At that moment.

Clang—

From the pitch-black end of the corridor came the sound of something small falling, as if something had dropped to the floor.

"Eh?"

The little girl's ears twitched as she heard the faint noise. She leaned against the wall, turning her head to look into the darkness in the distance.

"Viserys?"

Rhaenys called out softly, thinking Viserys might have just responded to her voice.

However, in the next second, she heard the sound of metal scraping.

Clang...

A grappling hook suddenly appeared, thrown in through a stone window not far away, landing on the floor and then being dragged back slightly until it caught on a crack in the wall.

Creak—

The hook adjusted its position, the metal scraping against the uneven stone battlements, producing a grating sound. It seemed someone outside was pulling on a rope to secure the hook.

Under the torchlight, the nearby grappling hook gleamed coldly, and from beyond the wall came the deliberately hushed, rough voice of a stranger.

"Ready... set..."

It seemed they were whispering something, but the wind carried the sound away.

Rhaenys felt the hairs on her body stand on end.

"Who is it..."

The little girl's face paled slightly, her lips trembling. One hand clutched her skirt, while the other hand holding the rag doll dropped it to the ground, but she didn't notice, pressing herself involuntarily against the cold black stone wall behind her.

She didn't know… what to do at that moment.

Nevertheless.

Rhaenys, though young, understood that whoever was sneaking into the castle like this couldn't be a good person.

She had also witnessed the bloody battle on the main road, with both sides hacking at each other, the gore flying. This had become the nightmare that jolted her awake countless times.

She likewise understood the dangers of this world.

Rhaenys certainly didn't want to die.

But then, she heard the sound of someone outside pulling on the rope, trying to climb up, and they seemed to be getting closer.

"What… should I do?"

The girl was terrified, a thin layer of cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, her brown hair sticking to her skin. She glanced around, looking for a way out.

In her desperation, the young girl tiptoed to reach the door handle, trying to pull open a nearby door and hide inside.

However, the door seemed to be blocked by something, and Rhaenys couldn't open it.

The faint noises from outside were getting closer.

Rhaenys' panic peaked, and her legs felt weak.

She abandoned the door and ran.

...

Splash—

Waves continuously lapped against the rocks.

A longboat, without any lights, sailed silently on the dark sea, stealthily approaching Dragonstone. Once ashore, everyone readied their weapons and disembarked.

They were a group of mercenaries from the disputed lands between Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys, located on the southwestern coast of the Essos continent, hired by the Iron Throne.

Lord Redwyne was unaware of this.

Robert Baratheon despised the Targaryens and vowed to eradicate the 'dragonspawn.'

However, he didn't entirely trust Paxter alone and split his forces, recruiting a team of lesser-known mercenaries from the eastern continent.

He tasked them with finding an opportunity to infiltrate Dragonstone and assassinate Viserys and Queen Rhaella.

Now.

After receiving a hefty down payment from King Robert, the mercenaries seized their chance. They slipped onto the coast of Dragonstone while the Targaryen fleet was preoccupied with engaging the Velaryon fleet from Driftmark.

Creak—

The grappling hook scraped shallow white marks onto the uneven stone wall as the pale moonlight shone through the window.

The next moment.

A burly figure appeared above the stone window, a sharp battle-axe strapped to his back, glinting coldly in the moonlight.

...

Chapter 24: The Courageous Band

Not far away.

Rhaenys, hiding around the corner of the hallway, witnessed the scene, her body trembling uncontrollably.

A wave of fear spread throughout her.

She thought back to the nightmare from six months ago, where two groups fought a bloody battle right before her eyes. The blood, the vicious smiles, like a silent play performed repeatedly in her mind.

She would awaken in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat.

But at this moment, Rhaenys managed to suppress the urge to scream. She was smart enough to know that she couldn't make a sound, or terrible things would happen.

The brown-haired girl curled up her small body, hiding at the end of the hallway, her hand covering her mouth. She even breathed cautiously, her face turning slightly red from holding her breath.

Not far away.

A man with dark hair and a face painted with strange colors leaped into the castle from a stone window.

He was tall and muscular, towering like a mountain. He wore thick leather armor and carried a massive battle-axe on his back. On his head was a dented, shabby helmet, and he emitted an unpleasant odor.

He was the first mercenary to climb up from below. Despite his size, he was surprisingly agile.

Dragonstone castle, though on the coast, was built on a mountaintop. Not far away was a smoking volcano.

To reach the stone window, one had to scale a steep cliff, which was nearly impossible for a regular person. Viserys, locked in a room, had no thoughts of escaping, as he didn't want to fall to his death.

Because of these factors, there were few guards in this area, and tonight was a special situation. The guards were distracted by the battle at sea.

These ruthless mercenaries seized the opportunity and sneaked in.

Living on the edge had made them exceptionally cautious.

The man, still breathing heavily, seemed to have used a lot of energy in climbing.

He took a few deep breaths, looked around carefully, and listened intently.

Discovering that the surroundings were quiet and everything was normal, they hadn't been detected by the guards.

He then raised his hand to his lips and gently whistled.

The sound was faint, like a small bird chirping.

The grappling hook's rope stirred again. His companions, waiting below, heard the signal and began to climb up one by one.

Rhaenys, hiding around the corner, watched in terror as seven people climbed into the castle through the stone window.

Each one had a different appearance, but they all wore dark, inconspicuous clothing. Their dark leather armor was wrapped in tattered black cloth, using the cover of night to hide their forms. They had swords at their waists, battle-axes on their backs, and longbows.

This group of seven mercenaries had clearly defined roles, including designated archers and shield bearers.

"Hm?"

At that moment, one of the men, who had wrapped his head with a black scarf and painted his face with strange colors, noticed a doll that had just fallen from Rhaenys' grasp.

He bent down to pick it up.

"Hey, Landon."

The man was the leader of the mercenary group. Holding Rhaenys' doll and weighing it slightly, he looked at the large man who had climbed up first and asked, "This looks like a noble lady's toy. Are you sure you didn't see anything when you climbed up?"

They had received a lucrative assignment, so they naturally had to give it their all.

They also understood the difficulty of this task; any carelessness could lead to their deaths, leaving them with money they couldn't spend.

Of course, if they succeeded, the reward would be astonishing. The final payment could be enough to let them buy a castle to become nobles themselves, or transform into legitimate shipowners with a fleet of a dozen or more ships.

The assignment was ostensibly from a merchant in the Vale, who had contacted them through unknown channels.

However, they didn't believe a word of the other party's claims. How could an obscure merchant from the Vale want to pay such a high price to take the lives of the last Targaryens?

The staggering sum initially made them doubt their ears, thinking the other party was a swindler.

However, when the so-called merchant from the Vale pulled out a bag of glittering gold dragons as a down payment and told them the rest would be paid upon the delivery of Rhaella and Viserys' heads, the mercenaries finally believed him.

After some probing, they realized the real mastermind behind this money was none other than the Iron Throne of Westeros, with a newly seated king eager to eliminate any potential threats.

There seemed to be a hint of Lannister involvement as well.

Perhaps to express loyalty to the Iron Throne, Tywin Lannister may have directly sponsored King Robert with this huge sum to eliminate the last Targaryens.

Hearing his leader's words, Landon, the tall man with a painted face, furrowed his brow and looked at the somewhat dirty doll.

He hadn't noticed that such a small thing had fallen to the ground, given his height and his focus on potential guards, not the ground.

"No."

The large man, his face painted and carrying a battle-axe, shook his head decisively and denied it.

He wasn't being evasive; he genuinely hadn't seen anyone, let alone a noble lady, when he climbed up.

"Besides, this place clearly houses the servants. Why would a lady be here?"

"Maybe it was accidentally dropped here."

The guards wouldn't protect those with even lower status than the servants, so they had chosen this spot as the breach point to break into the castle.

People who had spent their lives fighting on the edge of a blade were naturally cautious. Their profession was to take people's money and eliminate problems for them. They could kill, kidnap, or do anything as long as they were paid, and their skills were exceptional. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been chosen by King Robert's emissary.

"Really?"

Upon hearing his companion's words, the leader's brow relaxed a bit, and he nodded, not taking the matter too seriously.

It was just a casual question.

At that moment, a faint sound came from around the corner of the not-too-distant corridor.

Click—

Chapter 25: Inescapable Melancholy

The naval battle outside continued.

Viserys had already donned a custom-made small suit of leather armor, with metal plates wrapped around key areas like his chest and wrists.

He also held a short sword in his arms, custom-made according to his height, looking like an oversized sewing needle.

Slim, lightweight, and sharp.

The silver-haired boy stood on a stool, leaning on the windowsill to watch the distant naval battle. Stones coated in burning pitch traced streaks of light across the dark sea.

Flames raged on ships engaged in boarding combat. The clash of swords and the cries of soldiers from both sides shook the heavens. Despite the distance and carried by the sea breeze, Viserys could vaguely hear some of it.

However, at this moment.

He didn't know why he felt so restless.

He had a feeling that something bad was about to happen, yet he didn't know the reason.

Perhaps it was the anticipation of fate's judgment, even though he knew the outcome, he was unsure if his arrival had already altered history.

Indeed...

He had already changed history.

Ever since Kevan Lannister died at his hand, the trajectory of this world had started to change.

He now somewhat regretted his impulsiveness, uncertain if the Lannisters, known for the saying "A Lannister always pays his debts," would launch a mad retaliation.

If he had hidden in the carriage and not assisted Ser William, perhaps he would have agreed to Kevan's request to let bygones be bygones.

And if he had done nothing, they would have been able to escape to Dragonstone following the original trajectory.

But...

Would doing nothing really change nothing?

Viserys watched as the flaming longships sank into the sea, and countless soldiers from both sides screamed and flailed in the water, their efforts futile. He was momentarily lost in thought.

He was well aware that all events were composed of probabilities.

Perhaps even if he had done nothing, or even if he had never arrived, everything would happen differently if it were to occur again.

Moreover, if he did nothing, his future would be crowned with molten gold, or meet some other kind of demise.

He didn't think the Baratheon family would spare him and his unborn sister.

However, thinking about this made him realize that his sister's birth was destined to cost their mother her life, which only added to his inner turmoil.

After more than half a year together, he had truly integrated into this world. Queen Rhaella, his mother, was truly good to him, and he didn't want to lose her.

But Viserys couldn't ask his mother to abort his sister or tell her that the child in her womb was destined to take her life.

He could only try to make his mother happy, trying to dispel the melancholy in his heart. However, Viserys' efforts seemed to be of little effect.

Although Queen Rhaella forced a smile in front of her son, the deep sorrow in her eyes was visible to everyone.

Heartache is difficult to heal.

The deaths of her husband Aerys and eldest son Rhaegar had become an unbearable pain in Rhaella's heart.

Silver-gold curls danced in the sea breeze as Viserys leaned against the window sill, clutching his sword.

He then sighed softly.

...

On the other side of the castle on Dragonstone.

"Hm?"

The faint sound was exceptionally clear in the silent corridor, drawing the attention of all the mercenaries present.

"Someone there?"

The leader of the Brave Companions narrowed his eyes, a flash of ruthlessness and cruelty crossing his gaze.

Slowly, he pulled a dagger from his boot and gripped it in his hand.

He glanced at the ax-wielding man who had initially denied the presence of anyone, but was now looking somewhat flustered. The leader didn't dwell on it; he leaned against the obsidian wall, his shadow wavering, and carefully approached the dark corner with dagger in hand.

If someone was truly hiding there, they were in for a world of trouble. Although their main objective was to eliminate the last of the Targaryens, the leader wouldn't mind granting a swift end to anyone foolish enough to get in their way.

A cruel smirk formed on the leader's lips as his dagger gleamed menacingly.

His figure drew closer and closer to the dark corner, and he felt he could almost hear the nervous breathing of the person hiding there.

But just then...

"Meow~"

He had reached the dark corner when the unexpected sound of a cat's meow caught him off guard.

"A cat?"

The cruel smile on the leader's face froze, and he hesitated with the dagger in hand. The other six mercenaries behind him relaxed, especially the ax-wielding man.

It seemed like a misunderstanding; no one was hiding in that corner, just a stray cat that had wandered in and made a noise.

The misunderstanding was resolved.

Still gripping his dagger, the leader cautiously decided to confirm it one more time.

Pressing himself against the wall, he slowly peeked around the corner, his bloodshot eye appearing on the other side of the corridor.

The torchlight was dim and sparse in this part of the corridor.

In the faint darkness, a pitch-black cat sat beneath a potted plant, its green eyes meeting the man's bloodshot, cruel gaze.

The cat tilted its head slightly.

"Meow~"

It let out another curious meow.

"It really is just a damn cat."

The leader of the Brave Companions walked out, cursing under his breath.

At the same time, he let out a sigh of relief internally, as their risky surprise attack left no room for unexpected complications.

What he didn't see was the small figure hiding behind the potted plant next to the black cat, curled up and trembling with fear.

Princess Rhaenys was born beautiful, but her forehead was slightly prominent. She had accidentally bumped her head against the wall while trying to slip away, falling on her behind.

At that moment, Rhaenys thought she was done for, but Balerion appeared just in time.

The little girl hid behind the plant, shivering and praying they wouldn't find her.

It seemed Rhaenys' prayers were heard by the Seven, as the leader of the Brave Companions didn't insist on confronting a mere cat.

He turned back to rejoin his companions.

The misunderstanding was completely resolved.

...

Chapter 26: Crisis Approaches

The boy stood on a stool, leaning on the windowsill, facing the salty, damp sea breeze. He breathed in the faint smell of smoke and blood in the air, his silvery-gold curls grazing his pale forehead.

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.

The distant tolling of bells had ceased, but the boy's inner turmoil hadn't subsided.

He hated this feeling, leaving his fate in the hands of others, for the outcome of the naval battle would determine his survival.

If the Dragonstone fleet was defeated, he, his mother, and Rhaenys would have no place to hide.

After all, Dragonstone was only so big.

The sea was like a cage, trapping them here without any space to escape.

Viserys decided that after this matter was over, if the Dragonstone fleet could repel the invading enemy, he would do something to change his current situation.

For instance...

He would persuade his mother to abandon Dragonstone and lead the fleet to escape to the eastern continent.

However, Viserys knew that achieving this would be extremely difficult, as Dragonstone held great significance for House Targaryen.

Although he had been crowned Viserys Targaryen III, he was still young, and being called 'king' was merely a title. Even the guards at the gate didn't take him seriously.

A seven-year-old 'king' who had lost his throne and fled, held no power. Even commanding a servant required his mother's approval.

On Dragonstone, only the words of Queen Rhaella, the fleet commander, were decisive.

As Viserys was lost in thought, he suddenly remembered something.

Ever since their encounter with House Lannister's attack during their escape six months ago, Rhaenys had developed the habit of having nightmares.

The little girl would often wake up in the middle of the night, crying, and seek comfort in Viserys's room.

Their rooms were close, Rhaenys's bedroom was just next to Viserys's, and only by embracing her 'older brother' could the brown-haired girl fall asleep peacefully once more.

Both children were, in fact, ill-fated. Rhaenys had also lost her parents.

Tonight, for various reasons, starting with the Maester's death due to illness, Viserys was preoccupied with wild thoughts and had momentarily forgotten about Rhaenys.

Based on the past, the sound of bells echoing throughout Dragonstone should have already woken her up.

But at this moment, there was no sign of activity in Rhaenys's room.

Still asleep?

Viserys tilted his head slightly, peeking out from the castle, looking towards Rhaenys's room next door.

Beneath him was a cliff several meters deep. Waves surged forward, crashing onto the chaotic rocks below the castle.

Viserys's courage had grown significantly, and he wasn't worried about accidentally falling.

However, as he peered at the window of the room next door, Rhaenys's room was pitch black, with no light.

"It seems she's really still asleep..."

"How strange."

His silver-gold hair fluttered as the boy blinked, thought for a moment, and then withdrew his body back inside.

Picking up the shortsword on the windowsill, he hopped down from the stool and quickly headed towards his bedroom door.

Squeak—

Viserys opened the door to his bedroom.

As expected, two fully armed guards stood outside, clad in chainmail and with longswords at their waists.

Viserys wanted to step out, but the guards stopped him.

"Your Highness."

The guards looked at the young king with wry smiles on their faces. Although he had been crowned king, even Viserys himself didn't take it seriously.

The guards didn't change the way they addressed him, still calling him "Your Highness."

Little did they expect that Ser William was right when he said that the young prince wouldn't be content hiding in his room and would find something to do.

However, this time they were wrong.

Viserys spread his hands slightly, showing some helplessness, and then pointed to the room next door where Rhaenys was staying.

"I'm just going to see Rhaenys. I won't wander off, of course."

The silver-haired boy's reasoning was sound, as everyone in the castle knew how close the two children were.

Rhaenys always liked to pester Viserys, even when he was practicing swordplay, she would happily sit in the shade of a nearby tree to keep him company.

Moreover, Rhaenys always "misspoke," calling Viserys "big brother." It was only after being scolded by Queen Rhaella a few times that she reluctantly changed it to "uncle." Still, the little girl's face showed her unwillingness.

Indeed, for a child, there were no more complex reasons and certainly no involvement with adult thoughts.

In her innocent view, Viserys wasn't much older than her, and they were of the same age.

However, she was inexplicably a generation younger than him, and she was somewhat unwilling to accept this, so she deliberately called Viserys "big brother." Viserys didn't mind, though.

"Since it's to see Princess Rhaenys..."

The two guards exchanged glances, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.

After all, Rhaenys's bedroom was just next door, and the young king wasn't running off. If they didn't agree to even this small request, it would indeed seem too unreasonable.

"Alright then."

Clank—

The sound of metal armor rubbing against itself echoed.

The two guards held their sword hilts with one hand, nodded, and stepped aside.

"Thank you."

Viserys nodded as well and walked past them. Suddenly, he thought of something.

Stopping briefly at Rhaenys's door, his figure couldn't be seen directly from around the corner. The boy looked up and casually asked,

"Uh... Are there guards protecting my mother too?"

After all, too much had happened tonight, and a naval battle was still ongoing. If the Dragonstone fleet was defeated, none of them could escape.

However, Viserys thought of something else.

If the entire Dragonstone fleet was out fighting the enemy, didn't that mean that the coast of Dragonstone was completely undefended at this time?

A small boat could easily approach the shore under the cover of darkness and land without making a sound.

Dragonstone, being a barren island, had only one small fishing village, and as the lord of Dragonstone, it was nearly impossible to gather soldiers for battle.

The only defensive force on the entire island was the few dozen guards within the castle. However, the castle was particularly large, and these guards couldn't cover every inch.

Hearing the young king's words, the two guards hesitated for a moment. They hadn't thought as much as Viserys, but they still nodded confidently.

"Of course!"

"Her Majesty the Queen is also protected by guards."

However, while the three of them were talking,

Thud—

Suddenly, there was the sound of a bowstring releasing. In the darkness, a crossbow bolt shot out.

.

Chapter 27: The Chase

Thwack—

A crossbow bolt, shot out of the darkness, pierced an unsuspecting guard's throat without any resistance.

The sharp tip emerged from the back of the guard's neck, glinting coldly. Blood sprayed onto the nearby wall.

The guard's eyes widened, seemingly unable to comprehend the sudden arrival of death.

"Heh, heh, heh—"

He tried to say something, but his airway was filled with gushing blood, resulting in an indistinct sound. He reached out to pull the bolt from his neck, but he lost all strength before he could even touch it.

Thud—

His body collapsed to the ground, knees buckling.

Viserys was standing not far from the fallen guard. Due to the angle, he was not visible from around the corner.

In fact, he was quite close to the guard who had just been killed; they had even been conversing moments before, with a smile on the guard's face.

But in the blink of an eye, the hot blood splattered across the young Targaryen's clean face.

Everything had happened so quickly and unexpectedly that both Viserys and the other guard were stunned, standing in place as if petrified.

However, the surviving guard reacted more quickly than Viserys.

He seemed to have caught a glimpse of a pair of cruel, gleaming eyes in the darkness.

"Attack!"

The guard drew his sword from his waist and pulled Viserys back, wiping the blood from his face as he came to his senses.

"Your Highness, run!"

The young guard shielded Viserys, covering the young king's retreat. Viserys, his face smeared with blood, didn't hesitate or argue.

He turned and ran.

Thwack—

In the darkness, the tension in the bowstring erupted once again.

Another crossbow bolt shot out from the shadows, this time aimed at Viserys, who had finally come into view.

Unfortunately for the attacker, Viserys was running so fast that the bolt missed its mark. Hitting a moving target was much more difficult than a stationary one.

The bolt grazed the boy's hair, taking a strand of his silver-gold locks with it before embedding itself in the wall.

Crash—

Splintered stone and dust flew as the bolt's fletching quivered, indicating the tremendous force behind the shot.

"That was close!"

Viserys first felt a chill by his ear, followed by a burning pain.

But at the moment, he had no time to worry about the pain in his face. His heart pounded, terror filling his mind.

He just wanted to escape.

...

"Damn it!"

"Botched!"

In the darkness not far away, the mercenary who had launched the ambush with a crossbow looked grim as he saw that his second shot had missed, allowing the Targaryen boy to escape.

Worse still, the shout of the guard had likely alerted the entire Stonedrum Tower.

Their exposure here might even jeopardize the plan of their leader and other brothers to intercept and kill Queen Rhaella on the other side.

"Run!"

The man named Randon, with his battleaxe on his back, had a somewhat gloomy face, and the red and black war paint made him look quite ferocious.

He suddenly stood up from the darkness and strode towards Viserys.

The seven people who carried out this mission were all skilled members of their group. After all, this mission was crucial, and they needed a small but elite team.

Otherwise, if they were discovered by the fleet of Dragonstone, even if they brought their entire mercenary group, they would all end up as fish food in the sea.

The seven split into two groups after entering the castle of Dragonstone. Three of them went to kill Viserys, while the leader took the other three to attack the better-defended Queen Rhaella.

They thought that three people were more than enough to kill a child, and their primary task was to deal with Prince Targaryen's guards.

Randon chased after Viserys with large strides, but the loyal Dragonstone guards would not let them pass so easily.

"Stop!"

The guard held a shield in one hand and a longsword in the other, blocking their path in the corridor.

Although his voice was loud and clear, there was a slight tremble.

"Who are you?"

Still, he did not flee, instead trying to buy time for Viserys to escape.

Dragonstone had once been Prince Rhaegar Targaryen's domain, so these guards had followed him, and they were utterly loyal to the Targaryen family.

Viserys did not know how his nearly perfect elder brother had such great charisma that every person who had ever met him sang his praises.

But in his memory, his older brother was indeed talented and handsome.

He remembered once when his brother took him to the royal forest for an outing, only to encounter an attack from a fully grown wild boar. Rhaegar held Viserys and, with just one hand and a sword, elegantly took down the boar.

But Rhaegar did not chase it down to kill it; instead, he let the injured wild boar escape.

In any case, the late prince had become synonymous with perfection.

Now, the loyal Dragonstone guard did not flee but bravely confronted the attackers, delaying Viserys's escape.

Clang—

The well-trained, skilled guard and the bloodthirsty mercenaries engaged in combat, with the guard fighting against three men in the narrow corridor.

Clang, clang—

The guard's longsword blocked the other two attackers, and in the darkness, the clash of metal created sparks.

But then, a battleaxe came crashing down, and the Targaryen soldier had no choice but to raise his left hand's round shield to resist.

The next second.

Crash—

Wood splinters flew as the large mercenary, wielding his battleaxe, struck the guard's round shield with a mighty blow, nearly splitting it in half.

The Dragonstone guard had not expected such strength and paled with shock.

His body wobbled, nearly falling to the ground.

However, the ruthless mercenaries showed no mercy.

The large man swung his axe again, taking the guard's head clean off without a scream.

Thud—

The guard's head rolled to the ground, blood spraying everywhere.

The headless body slumped against the wall and fell.

Viserys, at this moment, had just reached the spiral staircase on the third floor of the Drum Tower.

Gasping for breath, he turned his head just in time to witness the scene.

The brave guard had bought him enough time with his life but was brutally killed by the enemy in a matter of moments.

Viserys watched the enemy approach him again, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Damn it..."

The silver-haired boy gritted his teeth and then, once again, turned and ran as fast as he could.

Chapter 28: Hiding

Viserys was being pursued by three vicious mercenaries.

Meanwhile, on the other side.

Queen Rhaella, heavily pregnant, had laboriously returned to her bedchamber. With the help of two handmaidens, she removed her elaborate outer garments and changed into a pure white velvet nightgown before carefully lying down on the soft bed.

"My child..."

Her silver-gold hair spread out, and the woman quietly lay on the bed, her beautiful pale purple eyes gazing at the ceiling above.

Her eyes still held an unshakable sadness, one hand caressing her swollen belly, slightly lost in thought.

Rhaella's mental state was truly worrisome, as she sometimes vented her anger at Viserys without reason or inexplicably burst into tears.

The woman had endured too much and showed signs of madness.

But now, Rhaella's mental state was relatively clear.

"I don't know if bringing you into this world... is right or wrong."

Her homeland had been destroyed.

With time passing, Rhaella also knew that Robert Baratheon, across Blackwater Bay, wouldn't easily let her and her son go.

At present, the warships outside were engaged in battle, perhaps the navy Baratheon had built was already in pursuit.

Rhaella herself was just a fragile woman. She didn't understand the war and rarely inquired about political matters while staying at the Red Keep. She was utterly ignorant of the so-called bigger picture.

However, she also understood that the barren Dragonstone had no people or resources, making it impossible to defend.

But where could they go?

She didn't want to give up Dragonstone, even resisting the idea to the point of near madness. Giving up Dragonstone meant voluntarily leaving Westeros and admitting the change of power in the Iron Throne.

She feared her heart would break, and hope would vanish.

But now, she regretted letting the child inside her come into this world. Their fate in the future might be worse than that of a commoner.

It's just... the child was already so big; Rhaella couldn't bring herself to give it up.

This was the motivation that could sustain a woman with a heart like dead ashes to keep living.

Next to Queen Rhaella's bedchamber were the handmaidens' rooms, and several guards patrolled the corridor.

This area was located in the main castle's upper level on Dragonstone. Going up through the stone stairs, one would reach the map table room, where Aegon the Conqueror had once planned the conquest of Westeros.

Outside, the sounds of battle were deafening.

"Seven Gods, protect us."

Rhaella Targaryen lay on the bed, her silver-gold hair spread out, her chest heaving gently, and then she touched her forehead and whispered a prayer.

She prayed for victory in this war.

While Rhaella was lost in her thoughts, something unexpected happened outside her bedchamber. First, a cry of enemy attack from downstairs alerted the guards outside her room.

"Who's there?!"

The guards responsible for protecting the queen seemed to have discovered something, drawing their swords and shouting loudly.

The next second.

The sound of weapons clashing and screams erupted outside Queen Rhaella's bedchamber.

"What's happening?"

The pregnant Queen Rhaella was startled by the sudden commotion outside and quickly sat up on the bed, pulling her clothes together.

Her face was as pale as paper, frightened once again.

Ever since the Usurper's War began, Rhaella had not slept well. Over the past few years, especially during the last six months since fleeing to Dragonstone, she had been living in constant fear, terrified that enemies seeking her life would appear at any moment.

"Could it be that our fleet has been defeated?"

Rhaella thought that the fleet loyal to House Targaryen had been defeated, and the enemies had stormed Dragonstone.

"Protect the queen!"

However, as a fierce battle raged outside her bedroom door, no one could answer Queen Rhaella's question.

Boom!

The next moment, the wooden door of the bedroom was shattered.

A bloodied soldier from Dragonstone fell to the floor, an axe embedded in his chest.

...

The mercenary company that had launched the attack had accurately located Queen Rhaella and Viserys, and a fierce battle had ensued.

Meanwhile, Viserys was desperately trying to evade the enemy pursuers.

In a room devoid of any light, darkness swallowed Viserys' silhouette. The room was uninhabited, and the air was filled with the scent of decay and dust.

Huff~

Huff~

The silver-haired boy hid in a dilapidated wooden crate, his chest heaving as he panted softly. He left a small gap to keep an eye on the outside world.

He had just faced the mercenaries in a panic and hid in this uninhabited room, hoping to deceive them.

However, to Viserys' disappointment, he heard the voices of the mercenaries outside the room.

"Damn that little brat, he's fast!"

Viserys had run so quickly that the mercenaries had tried to surround and capture him.

However, they had failed, which meant that the silver-haired boy had not escaped from the area and must be hiding in one of the rooms.

"Hmph—"

"He's hiding here. He can't escape. Search each room!"

A large, tall mercenary with his face painted and a commanding presence waved his hand, ordering his two remaining companions to search a room each, hoping to find the young boy quickly and behead him to complete their contract.

"Find him, and then finish him!"

After all, the longer they lingered, the more dangerous it became.

"I should have gone with Darry. I hate dealing with kids."

Another mercenary, his face wrapped in black cloth, wearing tattered leather armor and a short sword at his waist, complained while gesturing.

"Why didn't they send me to deal with the queen? Maybe I could have..."

"Heh heh..."

The mercenary emitted a strange laugh, revealing his yellowed teeth, and an unbearable stench emanated from his unwashed body. The atmosphere had relaxed considerably.

Having dealt with the castle guards, they felt that killing Viserys was all but guaranteed. What could a seven-year-old child do if he hid?

Holding a large toothpick in his hand.

What, did he want to pick the teeth of his lordship?

However, the tall mercenary didn't have time for such jokes with this repulsive fellow. He glared at him and then opened a door to search for Viserys.

Another mercenary, skilled with a crossbow, was also growing impatient. He had a volatile temper and snapped at the repulsive man.

"Stop talking and get to it."

The voices of the mercenaries were especially clear outside the room where Viserys was hiding.

Then the door creaked open.

Viserys hid in the crate, his heart racing, tightly gripping the custom-made short sword in his hand.

Through the small gap, he could see the firelight in the corridor and the man who had just entered the room from outside.

Chapter 29: Killing the Enemy

"It's the guy with the crossbow."

Viserys hid in a wooden crate, barely daring to breathe, tightly clutching the 'large toothpick' in his hand.

His fingernails were turning white from the pressure, and his heart pounded rapidly. Peering through a small gap in the crate, he continued to watch the man.

The room was pitch black, save for the faint flicker of firelight that spilled in through the open door from the hallway.

The man holding the crossbow hadn't yet discovered the old, unremarkable crate tucked away in the corner of the storage room.

Crash—

The man kicked some debris on the floor, stirring up dust that made him cough and curse under his breath. Then he spoke in a threatening tone.

"Hey, little one, I know you're hiding in here."

"You can hear me talking, and you're watching me too, right?"

The man held his crossbow and waved away the dust, then stood up straighter and scanned the entire room, including the poorly lit areas.

He was experienced in dealing with children of this age.

Despite their talent for hiding due to their small stature, all he needed to do was intimidate them, and they would expose themselves.

The man tried to put on a menacing grin and continued to taunt.

"Stop hiding, I see you."

"Is that your cloak?"

Yet, even as the mercenary threatened and tried to intimidate, the storage room remained dead silent, devoid of any sound except for the man's voice echoing back and forth, making him look like a lovelorn fool.

"Damn it!"

The crossbow-wielding man gritted his teeth, realizing that the child might not be hiding in this room after all.

Still, he stubbornly ventured further inside, continuing his search in the dark, where Viserys might be concealed.

The mercenary ventured deep into the storage room, his figure quickly swallowed by the darkness. The light from the doorway only reached the spot he had just left.

Bang—

He kicked over an empty wooden barrel in frustration. The lid fell to the ground, revealing that no one was hiding inside.

"It seems the little one isn't hiding here."

"You're lucky."

The man with the crossbow muttered under his breath, preparing to leave and continue searching the next room.

However, just then, he caught sight of an inconspicuous wooden crate in the corner from the corner of his eye.

"Hmm?"

The crate wasn't very large, and it would be a tight fit for a seven-year-old child.

He didn't think about whether the Targaryen bastard would be hiding there. Instead, he wondered if the crate might contain some of the Targaryen family's 'treasures.'

Although the Targaryens had lost the Iron Throne, they had ruled Westeros for over two centuries, amassing considerable wealth.

Dragonstone was the Targaryen's stronghold, and it was possible that they had stored a significant amount of treasure within the castle.

The man holding the crossbow felt a twinge of greed.

Thinking it wouldn't hurt to try, he decided to check the crate. After all, the Targaryens were as good as dead, so it was foolish not to take what he could. Even a few Gold Dragons would be welcome.

Resolved, the man approached the crate in the corner.

Unsuspecting, he never imagined that such a small box could conceal a young boy. The man bent down slightly, intending to lift the lid of the crate.

But at that moment—

Bang—

The crate's lid was suddenly thrown open.

The silver-haired boy hid inside, gripping his dagger tightly and using all his strength, he fiercely thrust it into the bent-over man's throat.

At the same time, Viserys repeated his instructor's words in his mind.

'Pierce your enemy with the pointy end.'

In fact, after more than half a year of practice, Viserys couldn't say his swordsmanship was outstanding, but at least he was no longer unfamiliar with the use of weapons.

The instructor's teachings for the boy were primarily simple, just simple 'thrusts' and 'slashes,' then applying them flexibly.

The essence of swordsmanship is just that, simple techniques combined with reasonable application can be invincible.

The mercenary holding the crossbow had no time to react; the boy's blade was lightning fast.

Thud—

The dagger pierced his neck directly, just as he had shot the guard earlier. The sharp blade penetrated from the back of his neck, and blood splattered all over Viserys' face.

The man clutched at his throat, unable to stop the gushing blood, his face etched with disbelief.

He never expected that such a small hiding place would conceal a person, let alone that he would be ambushed and killed by a child.

A scream erupted in the silent corridor.

...

The towering mercenary, like a mountain, carried a battle-axe on his back as he searched another room.

He carelessly ransacked the place, showing no concern for a seven-year-old child who barely reached his height.

"Poor little fellow..."

Randon's facial muscles twitched, looking somewhat ferocious, and then he violently tore down a wooden door.

At that moment,

A clear scream echoed through the corridor.

"Huh?"

He recognized it as his companion's voice and frowned slightly.

"Did he actually get hurt by a child?"

"Hmph, what a waste."

Immediately, Randon threw aside the wooden door, took off his battle-axe, and strode out to take Viserys' life.

Meanwhile, the sleazy-looking mercenary left his room earlier than the larger man. He also heard his companion's scream and rushed out with his sword in hand.

He saw Viserys, who had escaped from the storeroom. They were very close, with Viserys' hiding place just next door.

The escaping silver-haired boy was covered in blood and dust, looking somewhat disheveled.

He held a dagger in one hand and the crossbow he had just taken from the dead enemy in the other.

At this moment, the bowstring was taut, and a bolt was already nocked.

Seeing the mercenary chasing after him, the two were extremely close, less than two meters apart.

Without hesitation, Viserys raised his hand and fired the bolt in his hand.

Thump—

The bowstring emitted a dull sound.

The bolt lodged in it shot out instantly, tearing through the air with a screeching sound.

Thud—

The sharp bolt effortlessly shattered the mercenary's hard forehead, crashing directly in, and brain matter splattered out along with blood.

At such a close distance, the mercenary had no time to react.

This time he died even more quickly, not making a sound. The body, impacted by the force of the bolt, fell face-up on the ground.

Chapter 30: Failure

The mercenary's corpse lay face-up on the ground.

Viserys had just killed two of the attackers who had stormed the castle, his blood boiling with adrenaline, but his mind was unusually clear.

Then he locked eyes with the last enemy who had emerged from another room.

"One more."

The boy's pale purple eyes, like gemstones, blinked slightly.

The tall enemy before him stared at Viserys in shock and disbelief, and for a moment, the atmosphere grew tense.

He had thought it was just a minor accident, never imagining his comrades would be in danger.

He assumed his comrade had been bitten by a child, but he never expected to see this scene upon stepping out of the room.

His companion's body lay face-up on the ground, a crossbow bolt with a slightly trembling tail embedded in his forehead, his mouth agape as if he hadn't processed what had happened, blood flowing out.

The fact that the crossbow had ended up in the hands of this little creature suggested the fate of the other companion.

No one could explain the complex emotions on his face at that moment.

He never expected that such an innocent-looking boy, like a frightened little rabbit, could have killed two skilled fighters from their Brave Company.

"Damn you, I'm going to kill you!"

After a brief pause, the tall man flew into a rage.

He charged at Viserys with his battle-axe, and the boy, now without a crossbow bolt, didn't hesitate to throw away the crossbow and run again.

The crossbow was heavy for him, and it took a lot of strength to load it.

He couldn't muster the strength to load it while fleeing, only being able to do so while standing still, with one foot on it.

But it was clear that this fierce-looking enemy wouldn't give him that chance.

"Run first!"

Viserys didn't hesitate or consider fighting to the death; he chose to flee.

However, this time, Landon no longer had any sympathy or underestimated the boy; he pursued him with large strides.

"Stop!"

The boy seemed like a little devil to him. He recalled that he had killed his first person when he was only twelve, and even then, he was already the size of an adult.

An old man tried to sneak into his mother's bed in the middle of the night, but he discovered the intruder and beat him to death with a rock, smashing him beyond recognition before stopping.

From then on, no one in the village dared to bully their widow and orphan.

After his mother passed away from illness, he buried her and joined a mercenary company. Due to his ruthless methods, he became known as "Bloodhand from Lys."

But the boy before him was much smaller than he was at that age.

He looked to be only seven or eight, with frail shoulders that seemed like they could be blown away by a gust of wind. Yet, he displayed a chilling calm that was even more frightening than Landon's past self.

Viserys threw away the crossbow, not wanting the heavy weapon to slow him down, and began to run.

This time, the man chased after him, raising his battle-axe high in the air, his arm muscles bulging as he aimed for Viserys's back, hurling the axe with all his strength.

He abandoned any hope of giving the noble-blooded boy a dignified death, and he wouldn't give him any chance to struggle or escape. Landon wanted to cleave Viserys in two with his thrown axe.

However, the fleeing boy, who had not hesitated to turn and run, seemed to hear the wind behind him and slightly turned his head.

"Damn it."

Then he saw the battle-axe spinning towards him through the air.

The boy's breath hitched, feeling his scalp tingle with fear.

If this flying axe were to strike him, his small frame would surely be cleaved in two.

At that crucial moment, a complex hexagram array suddenly appeared in the silver-haired boy's eyes, activating his special ability awakened after reaching level 20 in his lunar aspect.

"Blink of an eye—"

Whoosh~

In that instant.

It was as if a gentle breeze blew past.

Everything around him seemed to slow down, and the spinning speed of the battle-axe was slowed to an extreme degree in Viserys' eyes.

Slowly rotating, tracing its path.

"I must!"

"Dodge!"

Viserys' body felt as if it was stuck in a quagmire, rigid, gritting his teeth tightly.

Even so, the boy still strained to move his body, trying to dodge the spinning flying axe with all his might.

The next second.

Whoosh~

In the mercenary's view, the boy who had been fleeing in front of him suddenly stumbled to the side at an unexpected angle.

It was as if something had tripped him up.

But it perfectly allowed him to avoid the high-speed spinning axe.

The sharp axe blade almost grazed the boy's shoulder, but it didn't even tear his clothes.

Boom—

The heavy battle-axe slammed into the corridor wall around the corner, making a tremendous noise.

However, Viserys managed to steady himself after a slight stumble, and cold sweat trickled down his forehead.

"That was close!"

He had almost been cleaved in two just now. Fortunately, he activated the Blink of an eye and dodged at the last moment.

The boy then took a deep breath and continued to flee.

"What..."

Landon, the man hunting Viserys, saw this scene and widened his eyes in disbelief, his face showing an expression like he had seen a ghost.

"How the hell is that even possible?"

He couldn't believe his own eyes.

He never expected Viserys to be so lucky as to barely avoid his flying axe.

But the boy, of course, wouldn't stay to explain anything and disappeared around the corridor corner in a puff of smoke.

...

Meanwhile, the battle on Queen Rhaella's side was nearing its end.

Although the mercenaries had more combat experience, they hadn't undergone much rigorous training.

The guards arrived quickly and in greater numbers for backup, and soon defeated the mercenaries one by one.

"Kill them!"

Thud—

Two Targaryen soldiers raised their shields in front of them, forming a shield wall that trapped the leader of the Brave Companions in a corner. No matter how skilled he was, he couldn't break through the wall with his left and right slashes.

Several others then thrust their swords through the gaps in the shields.

Stab, stab, stab—

Piercing screams and the sound of blood flowed from behind the shields. The Brave Companions' leader was stabbed to death in the corner.

"Leave one alive!"

On the other side.

Another mercenary was captured alive and tied up tightly.

Queen Rhaella, still in her nightgown, was trembling slightly as she hid by her wardrobe, supported by her handmaid.

Aside from experiencing some mental distress once again, she was unharmed.

to be continued

Chapter 31: Ruthless

Hello everyone. this will be the first chapter of a large translation spree I went on. I am really happy with how proficient the language model prompt script has become at translating this particular book. There were hardly any edits that I felt needed to be made which is what gave me the opportunity to translate so many chapters in a relatively short period of time.

That being said I know it is not perfect, nothing is. Weather its my process using termonology that is accurate but not in line with those used in universe, switching up character names randomly (increasingly less now now, small wins people lol), or repeating text from how the translations were processed givin limited maxiumum number of characters that can be translated I know there is room for improvement.

I'd like to be as fully transparent as possible with the community that has been slowly building around my work.

As I've said before (which I know many are tired of hearing ( ¯\_(-_-)_/¯ ) I am not a professional translator, this is a hobby for me. I try to balance my actual professional life, personal life, and this hobby to the best of my ability which may not always allow me to produce at the rates people would like me to.

Right now the things I keep in mind when choosing what to put my focus on are:

1. do people want to read this book?

2. can I source raw chapters?

3. Is it worth the time investment to do a big release for this book?

Right now the only book I have any kind of premium comitment towards is my WoW translation. I currently have three patrons that are helping to keep the lights on for all my other projects right now. The current direct support from them covers the cost of my GPT subscription and a little bit of my midjourny expense. For that I am truly grateful as it allows to me to stay motivated and explore areas of growth using these amazing tools.

While the current growth of my ability to use GPT has now enabled me to produce translated chapters for this book faster than I have before, releases are still subject to my time constraints, motivation, and the limits of GPT 4 availability to X amount of entries per 3 hours.

One of the earlierst reviews left on this book, and currently the one with the most upvotes, has left me hesistent to really commit to this book as there seems to be a falling off the rails in terms of the story stucture decisions made by the orginial author somewhere around the 300's of the chapters.

This has put me in a bit of a delema- do I commit to this book only to have interest drop dramaticlly after we hit that phase of the book, or do I gamble on it and invest heavily into translating the book to that point and see if my prompt script translations can save the day?

So, I wanted to turn the question over to the community- do you want me to make this book a more frequently released book? Are you willing to support me directly if I make advance chapters available?

If English isn't youcor first language or you just aren't comformortable writing in english for whatever reason, thats ok. Write in your native language and I will take it from there :)

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Meanwhile, on the other side.

The mercenary known as the Axeman had secretly begun to harbor thoughts of retreat. He wanted to abandon the rest of his brothers and withdraw alone.

To these mercenaries, the concepts of brotherhood and camaraderie were as fleeting as a passing laugh. They were all in this dangerous business, with their lives on the line, for the sake of gold.

No one knew how long they could survive.

It was possible that one might close their eyes tonight, never to open them again.

As a mercenary, death could come suddenly and unexpectedly. In their company, the Courage Brigade, the turnover rate was incredibly high, especially among the lower ranks.

He was considered a higher-up in the company due to his above-average skills. However, the new recruits who had just joined recently could very well end up as corpses within days after exchanging greetings.

Life and death were all too familiar to them.

Life was enjoying themselves with women, venting, or striving to leave behind offspring.

Death meant lying carelessly on the ground, indifferent to whether they ended up in the kingdom of the Seven Gods, the Old Gods, or some other deity like the Black Goat, R'hllor the Lord of Light, or even the Weeping Lady from his hometown of Lys. They would serve as cattle, horses, or dogs, if that's what it took.

But no one had ever returned from the dead. Who knew if they would ever meet these gods after death?

Even when they made a fortune, they didn't know whom to entrust it to, so they spent it recklessly, living in the moment.

So, these people had no qualms about betraying their comrades when the situation turned dire. Stabbing someone in the back was not a new experience for them.

At this moment.

The mercenary carefully made his way through the Drum Tower, one hand gripping his ax.

In his other hand, he held a shield he had taken from a dead guard. He would no longer underestimate Viserys due to the prince's young age.

"This little thing…"

The mercenary's mind raced as he glanced around. The mission to kill the young prince had gone awry, and they had lost two of their own in the process.

He didn't know how things were going on the other side, but the entire castle seemed to have awakened. Servants and guards were roused from their sleep.

Even if they managed to kill Queen Rhaella, escaping would be difficult.

"Enough."

"Don't blame me. I'll retreat first."

The mercenary gritted his teeth and finally made up his mind to abandon the others and withdraw.

No amount of gold from King Robert could compare to the value of staying alive. He didn't want to earn money without the chance to spend it.

The tall man touched the rope at his waist and then climbed onto the stone window. He planned to use the rope to escape the castle once more, find their boat, and leave Dragonstone.

The man looked around, making sure no one was nearby, before finally letting his guard down.

He had no idea where Viserys had fled to. The young prince was fast, and he had lost track of him long ago.

Click—

...

The sellsword then anchored his grappling hook onto the wall, tugging it with force to ensure the rope was secure.

With his battleaxe and shield strapped to his back, he cautiously scanned the surroundings one more time before grasping the rope and slipping out of the castle. His body disappeared into the darkness.

Swish—

As the rope continued to descend, the sellsword skillfully slid down.

"I've escaped," he breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet, he felt no guilt. The death of others had nothing to do with him; knowing he could escape was enough.

However, as he slid halfway down, something unnerving happened.

He suddenly felt the rope shake, but it wasn't from his own movements. Another force was at play.

"Hmm?"

The war-painted man hesitated, then looked up to see a small figure in the window he had just crawled out of.

Backlit, the figure's face and expression were indiscernible.

Yet, Landon recognized it as Viserys, the young prince he had been chasing.

"Damn it!" he thought, realizing the gravity of his situation.

"No..."

His muscular arms clenched the rope, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard.

He didn't want to die.

In truth, no one wished for death if they could live.

But Landon, a moderately renowned sellsword in the disputed lands, was genuinely panicked.

Despite earning the title "Bloody Hand from Lys" for his ruthlessness and even killing ten slaves in single combat at the arena to great acclaim, his bravery couldn't save him now.

He glanced down at the cliff beneath the castle walls, but only darkness met his gaze. It seemed like a gaping maw waiting to swallow him whole, leaving nothing behind.

...

Swish—

Waves relentlessly battered the jagged rocks below.

The war at sea seemed to be nearing its end.

The Greenstone fleet's massive assault wasn't meant to conquer Dragonstone in one fell swoop.

Lord Redwyne had no choice but to follow the king's orders, yet he didn't want his forces to suffer significant losses.

After all, the Greenstone fleet was the Redwyne family's private property; he would grieve for every lost ship and fallen soldier.

So, after a simple probing attack, Lord Redwyne ordered his fleet to withdraw from the battlefield.

The Dragonstone fleet's commander understood the situation; without Westeros's support, they were running out of resources. They didn't pursue the retreating Greenstone fleet, allowing them to leave the battlefield in an orderly manner.

However, at this moment,

No one could understand the terror felt by the sellsword, hanging midair, unable to advance or retreat.

"I... I don't want to die..."

Dragonstone castle stood on a cliff by the sea, and he hadn't even descended halfway. At least twenty yards remained below.

If he fell from here, there would be no chance of survival; he'd be smashed to pieces on the rocky beach below.

"Your Grace, please forgive my transgressions."

"I..."

Panicked, the sellsword desperately clung to the rope, trying to plead for mercy from Viserys. But when he opened his mouth, he couldn't find the words, his voice carried away by the wind.

Viserys stood at the stone window, his gaze calm as he watched the trapped sellsword.

He took a deep breath,

Then drew his short sword, placing it on the rope, and with resolve, he slashed it.

Chapter 32: Connections

The rope was then cut.

Accompanied by a desperate roar from below, followed by a brief pause, a dull sound finally emerged as if a heavy object in a torn sack had fallen to the ground.

Thud—

All sounds ceased, leaving only the relentless waves.

The 'Bloodhand of Lys' had fallen to his death from the cliff.

Viserys stood alone atop the castle, staring into the dark abyss below. The grappling hook on the other side also fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

Viserys leaned on the stone window, breathing heavily.

"It's over."

Due to his insufficient height, he had to lean out of the window's edge and draw his sword to sever the assailant's rope, causing him to fall to the cliffs below.

Although it was midnight and the castle's exterior was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to see anything below from the window, Viserys was confident that the man was dead.

There was no need to check.

Having lived on Dragonstone for half a year, Viserys was not as carefree as Rhaenys, having memorized the complex terrain of the castle.

Moreover, he had heard the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground. Undoubtedly, the man hadn't fallen into the sea but had crashed onto the rocky beach below, dying from a bloody head wound.

...

"I... killed someone again."

And now.

The boy jumped down from the stone window, leaned against the corridor wall, and slid to the cold ground, not wanting to move even a finger.

Viserys was so exhausted that he was somewhat drained. If not for his strong desire to survive, he might have been unable to run during the chase.

He sighed as he sat on the ground, then lifted his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

The blood splattered on his face had mixed with the fresh sweat, creating an eerie contrast when combined with the boy's innocent and adorable features and his clear, purple eyes.

Such an outwardly innocent and cute little boy had, in a short time, killed three vicious mercenaries using various methods such as ambushes, hiding, and scheming.

Viserys' molten silver-like hair clung to his cheeks as he caught his breath, trying to calm his rapidly pounding heart.

Only then did he have the time to think back on the entire incident.

"What on earth... happened?"

When he was suddenly attacked, Viserys didn't know what was going on, only that these people were trying to kill him.

Then, he desperately ran for his life, hiding and ambushing the mercenaries to survive.

However, even now, he didn't know who these people were and why they wanted to kill him.

Viserys' first thought was that King Robert wanted to exterminate him, and his first assumption was almost entirely correct.

As for who these people were, it reached the limits of Viserys' knowledge.

He knew very little about the continent of Essos across the Narrow Sea, except for the parts documented in his favorite travelogues.

...

As for the mercenaries and the so-called Company of the Courageous, Viserys knew nothing about them.

His attention then shifted to the black smoke he had just absorbed from killing those men.

Clang...

He drew the dagger in his hand slightly, its clear blade still stained with speckles of blood.

It was left from killing the first mercenary.

Under the firelight, the blade reflected a faint glow. Viserys stared at this reflection for three seconds.

Whoosh~

The black mist reassembled itself.

The High Valyrian script for sun, moon, water, and earth was still displayed.

Viserys didn't know the true nature of this black mist, but there was one thing he was absolutely sure of.

This black mist, his "golden finger," had an inexplicable connection to the Freehold of Valyria, which had been destroyed centuries ago due to the "Wrath of the Gods."

When he had been crowned on Dragonstone half a year earlier, he had fainted under the gaze of the Seven and dreamt of many strange things.

The most memorable and extensive of these dreams was of an apocalyptic catastrophe.

Volcanoes erupted, the earth split apart, magnificent cities were destroyed, and the land shattered into numerous islands.

The most prosperous civilization in human history, even hailed as the one "capable of challenging the gods," was wiped from the face of the earth.

The remnants of Valyria became the "Smoking Sea" and "Demon Lands" in people's mouths, seemingly still carrying a strong influence or cursed power, remaining untrodden by humans for nearly four hundred years.

And its secrets remained there forever.

The Targaryen family was once a part of Valyrian civilization.

Twelve years before the apocalyptic disaster, a prophetess was born in a relatively powerless family within the Freehold of Valyria.

She foresaw the impending catastrophe and persuaded her entire family to flee to Dragonstone, an outpost near the western continent of Valyria, thus escaping the disaster.

This relatively powerless family within the Freehold of Valyria went on to conquer Westeros and rule the land for nearly three hundred years – the Targaryen family.

Viserys had learned all this after landing on Dragonstone, poring over the records stored there, as Dragonstone was the Targaryen family's stronghold.

At the same time, the maester had also told Viserys many stories about Valyrian civilization.

After all, this was the history of the Targaryens. While understanding the history of other noble families, one should naturally also know their own family's past.

"Perhaps...one day I will unlock this secret."

Viserys stared at the swirling black mist, including the High Valyrian script within it, and silently vowed to himself.

[Viserys Targaryen]

Sun affinity: 5

Earth affinity: 6

Water affinity: 8

Moon affinity: 20

There was also a wisp of black smoke lingering outside the black mist.

He had deliberately controlled it after absorbing it from the first mercenary he killed, not allowing it to merge directly into his body.

Viserys wanted to try if he could control this wisp of black smoke to enhance the abilities he wished to strengthen.

He didn't absorb any black smoke from the two enemies he killed afterward. Viserys guessed it might be related to him using ranged weapons to kill them.

The condition for absorbing black mist from the enemy must be killing them personally, having direct contact with them to draw their power.

As for the true nature of this power, Viserys was equally uncertain.

Had he absorbed their souls?

Or was it the life force that had not completely dissipated from their bodies?

...

Chapter 33: Sir Joffrey

And now...

Viserys was still in the exploratory stage with the black mist, and the path ahead was full of uncertainties.

So, he wanted to take the initiative to try other possibilities.

Even if it might not be very practical at present...but everything still had to be explored primarily.

Hence,

"Let's give it a try."

Viserys pursed his lips, his gaze turned to the last attribute in the black mist, the option representing mental power, expressed in High Valyrian as 'moon.'

The Valyrians believed that the moon represented the spirit, soul, or will.

This was an expression characteristic of this language, where the word moon could also mean the soul.

"My mental power far surpasses that of ordinary people, and it has indeed brought me special abilities."

When Viserys' lunar nature reached 20, he awakened a special ability called the Eye of the Moment.

This ability allowed him to briefly slow down everything that was dynamically changing within his field of vision. His powerful mental power instantly deconstructed the movements of others.

Thus, it appeared as if the others had 'slowed down,' giving him more than enough reaction time.

Naturally, this ability was of great help to Viserys, such as when he dodged the flying axe thrown by the mercenary and saved his life.

Viserys understood the principle of playing to one's strengths and avoiding weaknesses.

His current advantage lay in his mental power far exceeding that of ordinary people.

He even looked forward to what changes would occur if his mental power evolved to the extreme.

Subsequently,

Viserys manipulated the absorbed black smoke to merge into the large mass of black mist, turning it into a fleeting moonlight. The symbol of the 'moon' was wrapped in a faint, silvery-white glow.

And then...

That was it.

Viserys sat on the ground leaning against the wall, looking at the sword in his hand.

Fortunately, the castle on Dragonstone was large enough. Due to Prince Rhaegar's frugality and the island's barrenness, there weren't many servants or guards, and no one had discovered him yet.

Otherwise, seeing this scene, one might think that the young king couldn't bear the psychological pressure and chose the path of self-destruction.

"As I thought."

Viserys' expression remained composed.

He looked at the number for his lunar nature, which was still 20 without any change. His mind became slightly clearer, as if he had drunk nectar. Then, he blinked his eyes without any surprise, revealing an expression that seemed as it should be.

He hadn't wasted the black smoke but used it to probe for a result.

Although he had roughly guessed the outcome, Viserys was very cautious when dealing with something as important as the black mist.

He wouldn't choose to guess but would rely on experimental results to prove it.

And the result, indeed, was as he had expected.

The stronger the ability, the more difficult it would be to evolve. His mental power had already far surpassed the total of two, three, four, or even more people.

So, his plan to quickly evolve his mental power to its peak had failed.

"I still need comprehensive development."

Viserys took a deep breath.

"And I don't know if using the black mist will cause any hidden dangers."

...

However, now Viserys had no choice.

He had to rely on the benefits the dark mist provided him; otherwise, the prospect of turning the tide against his foreseeable fate would be incredibly difficult, if not impossible.

Even with the help of the dark mist, Viserys never let his guard down. He feared he wouldn't escape the shackles of fate and would ultimately die in some other way, so he dared not to relax for a moment.

"Your Highness!"

"His Highness is here, someone come quickly!"

At that moment,

The sound of armored footsteps and chaotic noises filled the castle corridors as guards holding torches searched for Viserys. They finally found him by following the traces he had left behind.

All the mercenaries who had infiltrated the castle had been killed.

The only survivor, after a brief interrogation, had his throat slit by the hurriedly arriving steward, Ser Shad, and his body thrown into the sea.

Upon hearing about the attack, the knight seemed extremely anxious and infuriated at the assailants, eager to kill them quickly.

It was then that the guards discovered that the 'little king's' bedroom had also been attacked.

Two guards had been killed, and both Viserys and Princess Rhaenys were nowhere to be found.

Ser Shad then ordered a search of the entire castle.

Eventually, a frightened and shocked Rhaenys was found in the cellar, and another team located Viserys as well.

...

The next morning,

The horrors of the previous night had vanished. The castle servants cleaned the bloodstains, and the bodies of all the mercenaries were thrown into the sea to feed the fishes.

The body of the mercenary whose rope Viserys had cut, causing him to fall off the cliff, was discovered by fishermen preparing to go out to sea in the morning.

Although Viserys was somewhat shaken, his demeanor was generally better than that of the queen and Rhaenys.

However, he too had been up all night, and there were still some bloodshot veins in his eyes.

"Mother."

Inside the map room at the top of the Drum Tower, Viserys greeted his mother and sat in a side chair.

The exhausted silver-haired woman sat in the main seat, listening to the report of the commander of the Dragonstone fleet.

Even though Viserys had been crowned 'king', the guards of Dragonstone had yet to address him as 'Your Grace'.

Everyone understood that the title of king was just a name.

Even if the Targaryens reclaimed the throne, Viserys would not be able to sit on the Iron Throne.

It was because he was too young, and his mother, Rhaella, would serve as the Queen Regent until he came of age and could assume power.

So Viserys could only sit obediently in the side chair next to his mother, his knees together and hands on his lap. His long eyelashes fluttered, his eyes downcast, appearing quiet and well-behaved, like an obedient child.

However, the commander of the Dragonstone fleet, an old man with white hair and beard, was saying something. He noticed Viserys's arrival and gave the boy a sideways glance.

Curiosity showed in the old knight's eyes.

He was reporting to Queen Rhaella about the damage sustained by the Dragonstone fleet during the previous night's battle. Although the enemy had been repelled, the fleet itself had inevitably suffered some losses.

He had also heard about the events within the castle.

The seven-year-old Prince Viserys, the queen's youngest son, had somehow killed three vicious mercenaries during the night.

"Your Highness."

The commander of the Dragonstone fleet gave Viserys a slight nod.

"Ser Joffrey."

Viserys heard the old man's words and nodded in response, politely returning the gesture.

This was his first encounter with the knight since arriving on Dragonstone.

The knight commanded the fleet but had not paid his respects to Queen Rhaella and Viserys upon their arrival.

And for some unknown reason, his mother had not actively summoned the man.

Chapter 34: Bold Ideas

"Your Majesty."

The old knight with white hair and beard spoke in a somewhat coarse voice, then slightly nodded his head, indicating that he had said all he needed to.

Queen Rhaella still sat in the central seat, her pregnant belly protruding and her face somewhat pale. After taking a deep breath, she nodded.

"Thank you, Ser Joffrey."

The old man did not say anything else but stood up, bowed slightly, and the armor he wore made a sound.

He then prepared to leave the council chamber to return to the fleet docked at the harbor.

At that moment,

Viserys, who had been listening for a long time, raised his hand as he looked at Ser Joffrey, much like an obedient child in a classroom.

"Ser, I have a question."

"Can our fleet sail across the Narrow Sea?"

The young king sat in a side chair, one hand supporting himself on the table, and the other hand raised, abruptly asking the question.

"Hmm?"

The old knight, upon hearing Viserys' words, paused briefly and then stopped walking.

He lowered his head to look at the map of Westeros in the council chamber. Dragonstone was situated at the entrance to the Blackwater Bay, and beyond the bay was the Narrow Sea, wedged between two continents.

On the other side of the Narrow Sea, people of Westeros referred to it as the 'East Continent' or 'Western Coast,' and its formal name was Essos, the location of the nine Free Cities.

Viserys suddenly asked this question, and though he was only seven years old, it forced the old knight to fall into deep thought.

"Your Highness means..."

Ser Joffrey paused for a moment, then raised his white-haired head and asked in return.

"Dragonstone is too barren."

"It has no resources and no population."

Viserys' small hands were hidden in his blue velvet sleeves, clenching into fists. On the surface, he appeared very composed, but the boy was actually quite nervous inside.

Even more so than when he had killed three mercenaries the night before.

This was the first time he had actively expressed his opinion. He knew what would happen in the future, so he wanted to seek change.

The Dragonstone fleet, a powerful force still loyal to House Targaryen, could not be wasted in a storm for no reason.

In three months, his sister would be born into this world, and with her arrival would come the greatest storm in centuries, if not the largest in history.

This storm would destroy the last fleet of House Targaryen, causing them to be buried in the harbor and forcing Dragonstone to surrender without a fight.

Young Viserys would be forced to flee with his newborn sister to the Eastern Continent, living as wanderers in the houses of various nobles.

If Viserys wanted to change his future, he had to keep this fleet loyal to House Targaryen firmly in his grasp and not allow them to be destroyed by the storm.

So, at this moment, Viserys changed his previous low-key and silent attitude, seized the opportunity, and bravely stepped forward to express his opinion.

Even though he was very young and his words could be dismissed as childish nonsense, he still wanted to try.

He hoped to persuade his mother and Ser Joffrey to listen to his opinion.

Even if only a little bit.

Ser Joffrey remained silent after hearing Viserys' words, his hand resting on the map, and it was impossible to tell what the old man was thinking.

Viserys, seeing that the other party did not directly oppose him, felt slightly relieved. What he feared most was that they would dismiss his words as a child's nonsense because of his age.

He then spoke again, this time with even more assertive phrasing.

"Mother, and Ser Joffrey."

.

The young king, only seven years old, sat in his chair, gathering his courage as he looked at Queen Rhaella and the commander of the Dragonstone fleet.

"If we continue to be trapped on Dragonstone, without seeking to change the current situation, our defeat might just be a matter of time."

Viserys's words this time were straightforward, with no hint of subtlety.

Upon hearing her son's words, Queen Rhaella's expression changed slightly, as she disliked hearing such ominous words from Viserys.

The frequent shocks and accidents she had experienced recently had made the queen somewhat neurotic, and the word 'defeat' was especially upsetting.

"Viserys!"

Queen Rhaella's voice was sharp, and she immediately prepared to scold her unrestrained son.

"However..."

She was suddenly interrupted by the long-silent fleet commander.

Ser Joffrey, with one hand on the map, looked up and met Viserys's gaze with his keen gray-brown eyes.

"Your Highness, what do you propose?"

He hadn't expected the young boy to speak such bold words, which required not only courage but also determination.

Moreover, he had heard the news last night that the young prince had killed three mercenaries through some cunning methods.

Ser Joffrey suddenly became interested in Viserys.

Could it be that Viserys had the potential to grow into the next Prince Rhaegar?

The former 'Silver Prince' had an unimaginable influence within the Targaryen family.

Everyone believed that once Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne, he would be the greatest king in the history of the Targaryen dynasty.

Even now, with Rhaegar dead for over half a year, people still held this belief.

Viserys, too, looked at his opponent with unwavering eyes.

But he didn't know that once again, he was being compared to his nearly perfect older brother in the hearts of others.

Receiving Ser Joffrey's response, Viserys felt even more confident and boldly spoke his thoughts once again.

"Ser, we could abandon Dragonstone and seize a city on the eastern continent as our new dwelling."

"Abandon Dragonstone?"

The white-haired old man narrowed his eyes at Viserys's bold proposal.

Dragonstone, as the Targaryen family's birthplace of their conquest of Westeros, held both historical and practical significance.

Moreover, if the Targaryens were to abandon Dragonstone now, it would be tantamount to giving up their claim to the Iron Throne, indirectly acknowledging the legitimacy of the usurpers.

Dragonstone's geographical location was also crucial, acting as the gateway to the waters around King's Landing. The Dragonstone fleet was currently blockading the entrance to Blackwater Bay.

Although House Baratheon was furious, without a powerful navy to challenge the royal fleet, they still had to take the long way around.

Ser Joffrey hadn't expected Viserys to lose his courage and propose abandoning Dragonstone while the situation hadn't deteriorated to that extent.

Giving up their claim to the Iron Throne and fleeing like a homeless dog to the eastern continent.

Could it be that the events of last night had frightened the young prince?

But this would be understandable.

After all, Prince Viserys was just a seven-year-old child, and it was unrealistic to expect everyone to be as exceptional as Prince Rhaegar.

The old knight was very understanding, but also slightly disappointed.

.

Chapter 35: Taking the Initiative

"Yes."

Viserys keenly sensed the disappointment in the old knight's tone and felt slightly disheartened.

However, he maintained his composure and said, "If we want to reclaim the Iron Throne, our current ships and resources are not enough."

Viserys thought to himself that even Aegon the Conqueror, when he conquered Westeros, didn't rely solely on his three dragons. Aegon had armies at his side.

He first landed where King's Landing stands today, built a small wooden castle called Aegonfort, and quickly subjugated the Rosby and Stokeworth families, before officially commencing his conquest.

Moreover, the Targaryens no longer have dragons. Relying on a single fleet to retake Westeros is nothing but a fool's dream.

If they were to remain on Dragonstone without leaving, the lack of resources would only hasten their demise.

"You make a valid point, child, but you don't understand the reality of the situation," the old knight interrupted Viserys, his tone shifting from "Your Highness" to one more suited for addressing a child.

The old knight felt a slight disappointment, as Viserys had not yet reached the level of his older brother. However, he was still young and could be nurtured. If only Prince Rhaegar were here...

No.

Rhaegar had already perished.

In truth, if not for Rhaegar and Lyanna's selfish desires, the war against the usurper would not have erupted, and the kingdom could have persevered for a few more years under the Mad King's rule...

As these thoughts crossed the old knight's mind, he felt a sudden confusion, as if the goal he had been chasing had encountered a problem, and his voice faltered.

The hall fell silent.

Seated at the head of the table, Queen Rhaella, her belly swollen with child, had been experiencing a fragile mental state due to the recent series of devastating blows. She heard Viserys's words and became agitated once more. Dragonstone held significant meaning for her, and even though she understood the situation, she couldn't truly abandon it and flee to the eastern continent.

"Impossible!"

The silver-haired woman's usually beautiful violet eyes were bloodshot from a restless night, and her hair was disheveled. She slammed her hand on the table and exclaimed shrilly.

"Your Majesty..."

The old knight attempted to interrupt Queen Rhaella by raising his hand slightly.

But the emotionally-charged woman paid no heed. She absolutely refused to allow such a thing to happen.

"We will never abandon Dragonstone!"

"Your Majesty!"

Ser Joffrey abruptly raised his voice, interrupting Queen Rhaella's words once more, finally silencing her temporarily.

He had interrupted both Queen Rhaella and Viserys, but the queen did not dare lash out at him, as the last remaining force of Dragonstone's fleet was under his control.

Neither Queen Rhaella nor Viserys dared to offend him.

After silencing the queen, the old knight's eyes bore into Viserys as he evaluated him, then continued speaking.

"The reality is, Your Highness, the Nine Free Cities will not allow us to interfere."

The Nine Free Cities may appear loosely organized and rife with conflict, but they will stand united against external threats.

This is because it concerns their vital interests; they do not want a foreign power disrupting their balance.

Furthermore, while this force may not be incredibly powerful, it cannot be underestimated. Their identity could even spark a war in the future.

If only Viserys and his widowed mother had escaped to the continent of Essos, the nine Free Cities might have been more than willing to welcome them with open arms, just to cause some trouble for Westeros.

However, if Viserys had arrived in Essos with a fleet, the attitude of the Free Cities would have changed dramatically.

They knew that the Iron Throne across the Narrow Sea might ignore a widow and her child, but they would never allow the Targaryens to rise again on the continent of Essos.

So, it was very possible that a brutal war would erupt between the two continents, much like the War of the Ninepenny Kings years ago.

The Iron Throne would never allow a potential challenger to their position to survive, and they might even take the initiative to strike.

These unstable factors led them to accept Viserys and Queen Rhaella, and even actively help them escape to Dragonstone, just to cause some trouble for the Iron Throne.

However, they would never allow Viserys to arrive with a fleet.

"I see," Viserys said, his expression clearly stunned after hearing this.

He wasn't very familiar with these details. After all, his knowledge was limited to theoretical strategies. Viserys knew a lot, but there was still much he didn't know.

These were the subtle details hidden beneath the grand scheme of things.

Yet, many times these small details had a significant impact on the overall situation.

"I apologize, Ser," Viserys said, still sitting in his chair, somewhat troubled. He couldn't think of any better excuse. Any alliance would have its weak points, especially one like the nine Free Cities, which were constantly fighting amongst themselves.

Opportunities could be found if one looked for them.

However, Viserys didn't say this, as it would sound like an excuse, and the recent events had served as a wake-up call.

He couldn't base his judgments and decisions solely on what he thought. He needed solid evidence to prove the validity of his claims.

Viserys was grateful that he wasn't a ruler yet. If the old knight hadn't hesitated and followed his advice directly, it could have led to severe consequences.

If they had severed ties with the Free Cities, Viserys and his mother would be left with nowhere to turn.

With these thoughts in mind, Viserys felt a chill down his spine.

He then looked up at Ser Joffrey and apologized, "I was too careless."

But the old knight, standing in front of the map, uncharacteristically put away his haughty expression. His face relaxed as he accepted Viserys's apology, and then suddenly said, "However, Your Highness did remind me of something."

"What?" Viserys asked, slightly taken aback.

He had just been wallowing in the disappointment of his failed first attempt at making an impact when the old knight suddenly spoke up.

He then heard the knight continue, "We should not sit idly by."

"Instead, we must take the initiative to strike!"

Chapter 36: The Storm is Coming

Year 284 AC, June.

Three months had passed in the blink of an eye.

The heavy sky was laden with thick clouds, as if a torrential downpour was imminent.

In the distance, a storm was brewing, lightning flashing and thunder rolling, with fierce winds and pounding rain.

Beneath this impending catastrophe, warships spread out across the sea, silently cleaving through the waves as they set sail for the horizon.

Viserys stood on the second level of the Black Death's deck, facing the howling sea breeze, his silver-gold hair blowing freely in the wind, revealing his pale forehead.

The boy wore clean and tidy leather armor, with metal plates embedded on crucial areas like his chest and abdomen for protection. A short sword hung at his waist, and he held a bow in his hand, with a quiver of arrows slung across his back, looking dashing and spirited.

Below him on the deck, numerous soldiers busied themselves with various tasks, lowering the sails and securing anything on the deck that couldn't be stored away, preparing for the oncoming storm.

"The storm is coming."

"Your Grace."

At that moment, a hoarse, aged voice came from behind Viserys. It was Ser Joffrey, the commander of the Dragonstone fleet.

The old man had now changed out of his casual clothes and donned armor, as their destination was not far away.

"Why did you choose this time to launch the attack?"

As a veteran who had spent most of his life at sea, Ser Joffrey was no stranger to storms. Half a month ago, the skies around Dragonstone had grown ominously dark, signaling that a fierce storm was approaching.

Initially, Ser Joffrey had decided to have all the ships of the Dragonstone fleet remain in port for a few days, waiting for the storm to pass.

Based on the old knight's lifelong experience at sea, storms were not too fearsome. As long as they didn't set sail during the storm and secured the ships with ropes, the damage from a storm wouldn't be too significant.

However, for some reason, Viserys wanted to launch a surprise attack on the still-unfinished Baratheon fleet at Storm's End just as the storm was about to arrive.

His reasoning was that the enemy would never expect them to attack during the onset of a storm.

Moreover, they could destroy all the enemy's warships in one fell swoop at this time, dealing a heavy blow to their morale.

This strategy of striking while the enemy was only halfway prepared was more effective than harassing Storm's End from the beginning to prevent them from building a fleet.

And it would also allow their fleet to avoid the brunt of the storm's assault.

However, although Viserys was eloquent, his argument was somewhat thin and lacked substance.

Furthermore, this was a very risky course of action.

To everyone's surprise, after deep contemplation, the old knight actually agreed to Viserys' bold and adventurous plan.

So, the Dragonstone fleet set sail, fleeing from the eye of the storm at top speed. They passed through the storm-tossed Blackwater Bay and the Gullet, went around the Claw, and sailed towards the distant horizon.

...

In the beginning, everything seemed fine. The fleet had left Dragonstone early, well before the storm arrived.

However, as the days went by with the fleet sailing on the open sea, Ser Joffrey's heart grew colder, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

The fact that they had been sailing for several days and had not yet escaped the storm's reach showed just how massive it was.

If he had not heeded Viserys's advice and stubbornly decided to keep the fleet anchored in the harbor, hoping to weather the storm, the royal fleet might have been severely battered and nearly swallowed by the sea.

Thus, he was curious as to how Viserys had made such a judgment, why he had insisted on the fleet leaving Dragonstone on a voyage during a critical time when the queen was about to give birth.

Had the boy foreseen that the storm would be unprecedented in its size?

"Did Your Highness guess something?" Ser Joffrey asked curiously.

At that moment.

Boom—

The waves raged on the surface of the sea, the surging waves crashed violently against the deck, and the storm finally caught up with the fleeing Dragonstone fleet half a month later.

Splash—

A torrential downpour started in an instant, releasing the pent-up fury of the past few days. The soldiers on the lower deck scrambled to secure everything in place.

Viserys stood above, gripping the railing tightly, the howling sea wind filling his ears, almost drowning out the sound of their conversation.

The boy strained to hear Ser Joffrey's words and then shook his head, responding loudly.

"No!"

"I was just guessing!"

However, Ser Joffrey was not satisfied with this answer. He held onto the railing, raised his head to look at the dark sky in the distance, rain pouring down overhead, fierce winds, and torrential rain.

"Oh, really?"

He then withdrew his gaze from the horizon, turned his head, and gave the boy a meaningful glance.

Ever since their first meeting three months ago, Ser Joffrey felt that the boy seemed somewhat magical, sometimes appearing very intelligent, yet at other times seemingly foolish.

He had agreed to Viserys's risky plan to set sail on an expedition just before the storm hit because he had received a letter from the Citadel not long ago.

The maesters of the Citadel were responsible for observing celestial phenomena. In recent days, they had sent letters to cities, islands, and ports along the eastern coast of Westeros.

These letters all stated that, according to the observations of the maesters of astronomy, the Narrow Sea was about to experience the most powerful storm surge in history.

A maester wearing a bronze chain collar had predicted that the largest storm vortex ever seen on the continent of Westeros would be centered near Dragonstone.

The Citadel had not changed its attitude due to the change in the Iron Throne. The maesters' purpose was to serve all humanity. Like the brothers of the Night's Watch, they were considered the servants of Westeros.

In theory, any maester should have no political inclination.

As a result, they had sent a letter to Dragonstone as well, conveying a warning.

At first, Ser Joffrey didn't take it seriously.

But as the terrifying celestial signs became more evident, Ser Joffrey's heart began to waver, yet he could not bring himself to make a decision.

After all, with the queen about to give birth, the fleet should be guarding the side of Dragonstone, strictly preventing any accidents from happening again.

However, Viserys's words were like the last straw that broke the camel's back, finally convincing Ser Joffrey to make up his mind and lead the fleet away from Dragonstone.

If the fleet had been lost in the storm, the safety of the queen could not have been guaranteed.

However, Viserys's words were like the last straw that broke the camel's back, finally convincing Ser Joffrey to make up his mind and lead the fleet away from Dragonstone.

If the entire fleet had been destroyed in the storm, the safety of the queen would have been at risk.

Chapter 37: Stannis

At Storm's End.

A man with a straight back and a determined face sat at a wooden round table, writing something.

On the clean and tidy table, there was a half-burned white candle. The candle's flame flickered as the wind blew in through the window, casting his shadow on the wall behind him.

Outside the window, the rain poured down heavily, the noisy sound of rainfall making him somewhat irritated.

Suddenly.

Snap—

The pen in his hand accidentally broke, and Stannis's expression turned a bit sour.

He threw the broken pen against the wall.

For some reason, Stannis felt a bit uneasy at this moment. The sudden breaking of the pen seemed like an ominous sign of something terrible about to happen.

The man furrowed his brow, then raised his hand, his rough fingers gently massaging his temple, trying to make himself more alert.

However, it was of no avail.

His pale lips tightened, Stannis was now weighed down by many concerns.

He had long forgotten how to smile and had no idea how to be carefree.

His elder brother, Robert Baratheon, was now the king, and by tradition, Storm's End, the ancestral seat of House Baratheon, should be passed down to the next heir.

Of course, the king could continue to hold Storm's End until he chose a worthy heir and then grant it to them.

However, Stannis, as the primary heir to Storm's End, was beyond doubt. His younger brother, Renly, was just a child and posed no threat to him.

At least, that was what Stannis believed.

Even before Robert had any children, Stannis, as the younger brother, could have been considered the Iron Throne's primary heir.

But now, Stannis suddenly had a terrible premonition.

The reason might have been his poor personal relationship with his brother and the lack of news from King's Landing.

"Perhaps Robert just wants to recapture Dragonstone first."

Stannis let go of his temple-massaging fingers, sighed, and then muttered to himself.

The furrowed muscles in his brow loosened a bit.

Although his relationship with his brother wasn't amicable, and he had some reservations about his brother's methods, Stannis remained loyal and never doubted his elder brother.

He knew how much Robert despised the Targaryens, so he gave himself an explanation in his heart.

Perhaps Robert simply wanted to recapture Dragonstone first and then hand over Storm's End to him.

Now.

Ever since the Earl of Redwyne's fleet returned defeated from Dragonstone, they had returned to the Westerosi western coast to recuperate.

And King Robert's determination to reclaim Dragonstone had not wavered.

Stannis remained at Storm's End, urgently building warships and training the royal navy.

By now, more than half of the newly built warships had been launched, and the newly trained navy was taking shape.

Stannis was ambitious, believing that once his royal navy was fully trained, recapturing Dragonstone would be a piece of cake.

"Is my brother inside?"

At this moment.

A childish and slightly excited voice came from outside the study door, followed by a cold, indifferent voice.

"Apologies, Lord Renly."

"Lord Stannis doesn't wish to see anyone right now."

A guard stationed outside the study stopped Renly Baratheon, the third son of Storm's End, in his tracks.

The boy, dressed in a blue velvet jacket, looked as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head, accidentally dropping a shiny stone he had been holding onto the ground.

There was something slightly...different about Renly, the third son of Storm's End, compared to boys his age.

Although he also underwent some light knight training, in truth, he had little interest in swordplay.

Renly preferred collecting beautiful things.

For instance, he had just returned from the beach with a few friends, where they picked up some pretty stones. Among them, this shiny stone was his favorite.

However, the children were hastily called back due to an approaching storm, so Renly, upon returning to the castle, wanted to share his find with his older brother Stannis.

To his disappointment, the excited boy was met with a closed door.

Renly's spirits dropped instantly, his lips pouting in frustration as he picked up his beloved stone from the ground, preparing to leave.

Inside the study, Stannis had heard the entire conversation. His brow furrowed slightly, but in the end, he spoke in a neutral tone.

"Renly?"

"Let him in."

He did, in fact, care deeply for his younger brother.

Their parents, Lord Steffon Baratheon and Lady Cassana Estermont, had perished in a shipwreck at Shipbreaker Bay, leaving behind a young Renly.

Eldest brother Robert was wild and unrestrained, while the composed and experienced Stannis took on the role of a strict father figure.

However, Stannis was not good at expressing his emotions.

Hearing his brother grant him entry to the study, the black-haired boy's face lit up, his earlier dismay washed away.

But just then...

Boom--

A distant alarm bell rang from the direction of the lighthouse.

Stannis, sitting in the study, was slightly startled. A look of astonishment crossed his normally stern face, and the guards outside, as well as Renly, were taken aback.

The sound was all too familiar.

It stirred memories buried deep within Renly's heart, memories that hadn't yet faded.

Only half a year ago, they were trapped in Storm's End, eating rats while the horns and bells echoed outside the castle walls.

The young five-year-old Lord Renly burst into tears on the spot, creating a chaotic scene.

Within Storm's End, the situation wasn't much better. The painful memories from half a year ago seemed to linger before their eyes, as soldiers rushed about and the castle's servants were thrown into disarray.

Stannis remained the calmest of all. After his initial shock, the resolute man quickly regained his composure.

He stood up from his chair, pushed open the study door, and without looking at Renly, who was sitting on the ground crying, he strode outside.

"Seven Hells!"

"Who can tell me what's going on?"

At last, a panicked soldier hurriedly approached, informing Stannis of the situation.

"Lord Stannis, this is bad."

The soldier was out of breath, having run all the way from the watchtower.

His face was still filled with terror.

"A large number of unidentified ships have appeared at sea, and they're now riding the storm towards the harbor!"

...

Chapter 38: A Flame in the Storm

Not far away, the Dragonstone fleet rode the storm across the waters of Shipbreaker Bay.

The terrible weather hindered their progress, but it also concealed their movements.

Whoosh—

The warships cut through the waves, hidden within the storm, while the torrential rain continued to pour down, the raindrops pelting the deck like a barrage of beans.

The sky was oppressively dark, and countless warships emerged from the mist, arranged neatly and sailing through it.

They appeared and vanished like ghosts, as if they had risen from beneath the sea, flickering in and out of view, suddenly appearing within the line of sight of the Storm's End sentries.

A Baratheon soldier on the lookout tower rubbed his eyes vigorously, watching the massive fleet hidden within the storm quickly approaching.

"This…"

"This is…"

He could hardly believe his own eyes, but when he finally realized what was happening, he hurriedly sounded the alarm bell.

However, it was already too late.

The fleet had ridden the waves, now aiming straight for the harbor of Storm's End.

Storm's End was one of the most formidable castles in all of Westeros, surrounded by a thick outer wall.

The thickest part was about a hundred feet high and forty feet thick, while the seaward side was about eighty feet thick, incredibly solid, and composed of two layers of rock with a layer of sand and rubble sandwiched in between.

The wall was a smooth curve, and the stones were so tightly packed that not even a breath of wind could penetrate.

There were even tales that Storm's End was built by the ancient Storm Kings using magic to withstand the harsh climate of Shipbreaker Bay.

In reality, Storm's End had no harbor; it sat atop a cliff by the sea, with only a single waterway leading to its interior, blocked by a barred gate.

The harbor of Storm's End was established for Stannis to train the royal navy.

Due to its relatively advantageous geographical location and deep waters nearby, constructing the harbor near the castle was not difficult. It now served as the location where the royal naval forces were amassed.

At present, the newly launched royal navy ships were all huddled within the harbor, their ropes secured and covered with tarps to prepare for the storm.

Having grown up in Storm's End, Stannis was all too familiar with the terrible weather of Shipbreaker Bay.

Moreover, he had received a warning from the Citadel not long ago, predicting an unprecedented massive storm approaching the eastern coast of Westeros.

Although Shipbreaker Bay was not the center of the storm, the impact would not be severe, perhaps only a heavy downpour.

But the cautious man had still made ample preparations.

So, quite some time ago, Stannis had ordered all warships to remain in the harbor, temporarily suspending the navy's training program, and forbidding all soldiers from boarding the ships while they stayed in their barracks. .

And so, before the storm arrived, not even a single rowboat could be found in the waters surrounding Storm's End, making it impossible to detect the approaching Targaryen fleet.

Now, hidden within the beginnings of the storm, the Targaryen fleet sailed toward the harbor of Storm's End, riding the wind and waves.

Although the fleet had suffered some losses in the storm, these losses were still within an acceptable range.

After all, they were more than six hundred nautical miles away from the center of the storm in Blackwater Bay, merely on the storm's edge.

It was only because the storm kept moving that Storm's End was also affected by the disaster.

The Targaryen fleet arrived suddenly, like divine soldiers descending from the heavens, catching the Baratheon soldiers off guard.

No one had expected the Targaryen fleet to arrive riding the storm, and the royal navy of Storm's End hadn't even launched a single rowboat, leaving them in a completely unprepared state.

Then, this newly-formed fleet, which hadn't yet fought a battle, suffered a devastating blow.

Boom, boom, boom—

The trebuchets on the flagship Black Dread let out a furious roar, hurling stones through the air with a dull sound, aimed directly at the Baratheon fleet huddled together in the harbor.

Many of the stones were wrapped in oil-soaked cloth and ignited, with the oil remaining lit despite the torrential rain. The flaming stones struck the Baratheon warships with force.

Had the Baratheon fleet been arrayed for battle on the open sea, perhaps these large-scale siege weapons wouldn't have been so accurate. But now, the Baratheon fleet was tightly packed within the harbor.

They were anchored to the shore with ropes and ship anchors, pressed tightly together to prevent the storm from scattering and damaging the ships through collisions.

Originally, Stannis's orders were not unreasonable, as this was indeed the best way to withstand the storm.

Warships couldn't be pushed ashore or brought into the castle, so they had to rely on their sturdy hulls to endure the storm. Tying the ships together effectively increased their resistance to storm damage.

However, under the current attack, these tethered warships became easy targets for the Targaryen fleet.

Soldiers operating the trebuchets and ballistae didn't even need to aim; they merely had to pull the ropes and launch the stones to hit their targets.

Boom, boom, boom—

The newly-built Baratheon royal fleet wailed in the storm as stones pierced their decks and ignited sails. The fire spread throughout the warships, engulfed by the storm.

Whoosh~

Flames driven by the wind rushed through the ship's cabins below deck, gradually rising and swirling, igniting the supplies stored within.

The support pillars holding up the decks were swallowed by the fire, and with a thunderous crash, they collapsed. The warship was enveloped in a red glow before finally splitting apart and sinking into the water.

Yet, more ships were struck by the flaming stones, and eventually, the Targaryen fleet began launching barrels of oil with their trebuchets, further fueling the fires.

In an instant.

Not far from Storm's End, in the harbor.

A great fire roared amidst the downpour, with the Baratheon fleet completely engulfed in flames. Thick, billowing black smoke rose to the sky, painting the entire heavens red.

And on the second deck of the distant Black Dread.

Viserys stood in the midst of the rain and wind, not seeking shelter in the cabin, for he wanted to witness the true face of war firsthand.

Thus, the boy was soaked to the bone, his silver-gold hair clinging to his pale face, as water droplets streamed down his cheeks.

However, Viserys' pale purple eyes shone brightly, reflecting the fiery scene in the distance.

"This fire has burned away the usurper's ambition to invade Dragonstone for the next five years," he thought.

...

Chapter 39: Birth of the Storm

"This fire has burned away the usurper's ambition to invade Dragonstone for the next five years."

Standing beside the boy, the old knight gently coughed before speaking. Viserys slightly turned his head to glance at the elderly man, unsure where the figure of five years came from and if there was any evidence to support it. But he knew that this fire had indeed granted Dragonstone temporary safety.

The war of the usurper was not yet over, and the fat man of House Baratheon – no, the future fat man – still did not have a secure hold on the Iron Throne. The Targaryen cause had been in decline since the death of his older brother Rhaegar, with no victories to their name and a series of defeats culminating in the loss of the Iron Throne.

Now, Viserys' fire had ignited a beacon of hope for the Targaryen family in the long night ahead, at least lifting the severely dampened morale. However, the fire had little to do with Viserys himself.

His primary goal was to use his foresight to save Dragonstone's fleet from being lost in the storm. So, he wanted the fleet to escape the storm vortex surrounding Dragonstone. But he never expected his daring suggestion, coming from a child, to be adopted through a series of unexpected events.

Ser Joffrey ultimately decided to race against the storm and launch a surprise attack on Storm's End. As a result, the Targaryen fleet emerged from the storm when Stannis least expected it, catching him off guard and trapping the entire Baratheon fleet in the harbor, which was then engulfed by the massive fire. This event was destined to become one of the most classic examples in the naval warfare history of Westeros.

However, Viserys had merely provided a suggestion, playing a minimal role. He had no involvement in the subsequent command, combat, or surprise attack. He just stood beside the old man, feeling the sea breeze and getting drenched in the rain.

Though Viserys had chosen to stand outside and witness the battle, the old knight had not sent the troublesome boy away. Instead, he brought Viserys with him, even allowing him to stand and listen during war meetings.

...

Meanwhile, on the battlements of Storm's End, Stannis gripped the cold parapet, his face tense and his body erect, broad shoulders bearing the weight of mountains. His entire body was soaked by the rain, and his heart was as cold as the rainwater.

The young heir to the Iron Throne stared at the towering flames in the distant harbor, clenching his fists. His fingers scraped thin layers of stone dust from the cold, hard parapet, and they bled from the friction, staining the white marks on the brick with blood.

But at that moment, Stannis was oblivious to the pain. He only felt his breathing growing rapid, his chest heaving, and his vision blurring. Dizziness followed.

"My lord!"

His guards cried out in alarm and quickly held onto Stannis to prevent him from fainting and falling off the wall. If Stannis had fallen from the hundred-foot-high wall of Storm's End, it would have been a fatal outcome.

The king's brother and heir to the Iron Throne falling to his death from the city wall would have been a true joke.

"Where is Maester Cressen?"

"Quick!"

"Bring the maester here quickly!"

...

The guard, holding the unconscious Stannis, shouted loudly.

Then, other soldiers hurried into the castle to fetch Maester Cressen, who served the Baratheon family.

...

Meanwhile.

Far away on Dragonstone.

The outside world seemed like a terrifying scene of the apocalypse, with heavy dark clouds pressing down on the earth and torrential rain mixing with the raging wind.

Raindrops as large as beans pelted down on the sturdy castle, and the 'dragons' of Dragonstone roared skyward as if fighting against this terrible disaster.

As the epicenter of this unprecedented storm surge in Westeros, Dragonstone towered above the tumultuous sea, with massive waves crashing against the cliffs and producing thunderous roars.

The sky was horribly gloomy, and the waves became restless and wildly destructive.

Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the unwavering dragon amidst the towering waves.

In an instant, the sky and earth were illuminated.

Crack—

And the sound of thunder followed.

Rumbling—

...

Outside, it seemed like the end of the world, but within the Drum Tower, it was heavily guarded.

"Quick!"

"Block the water here!"

Almost all the soldiers of Dragonstone were concentrated in the castle, working tirelessly to prevent flooding and disaster.

The former Red Keep master-at-arms donned his armor once more after more than half a year, supporting his sword hilt with one hand and personally guarding the main gate. However, his face looked slightly unwell.

The terrible weather aggravated his old wounds; the scar from when he was nearly impaled by a sword throbbed and itched as if ants were gnawing at it, making it almost unbearable.

As Rhaegar's appointed acting lord of Dragonstone, Ser Shad, the Dornish bastard, appeared outside the gate as well. He sat beside Ser William, his eyes somewhat unfocused.

Everyone was tense.

For today, Queen Rhaella, heavy with child, finally showed signs of labor. Midwives and handmaidens were urgently called upon, and now Her Grace was giving birth within the chamber.

Inside the room.

The storm and thunder outside undoubtedly affected the expectant mother's mood.

Silver hair scattered over the bed, Queen Rhaella's consciousness began to fade.

The woman spread her legs, trying her best to give birth to her child, but not everything in this world goes smoothly.

Giving birth is undoubtedly one of the most difficult experiences for a woman.

"Quick!"

"Stop the bleeding!"

Inside the room, the inexperienced midwife and the queen's handmaidens scrambled to help with the delivery.

But at this moment, blood flowed relentlessly from beneath the queen.

Moreover, Queen Rhaella, already an elderly mother and grandmother, could not withstand the ordeal even though Viserys had always urged her to exercise more.

In the end, she gave up resisting.

"Joanna."

Her consciousness blurred completely, and her will to resist crumbled. Her parched lips whispered the names of the past.

"Bonifer."

"Irri."

Rhaella seemed to see her entire life flash before her eyes, rapidly replaying.

"Rhaegar."

"Viserys..."

"My... my children..."

A crystal-clear tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

Chapter 40: Daenerys Targaryen

Queen Rhaella, having suffered numerous blows, found it difficult to recover from her heartache. Her spirit had reached the edge of collapse, and there were even faint signs of madness.

There is no greater sorrow than a broken heart.

When the silver-haired woman herself had given up on her will to live, even the Seven Gods could not save the queen from her predicament.

In the end, Rhaella Targaryen became delirious, constantly repeating the names of those who mattered most to her in her short life.

Her handmaiden Joanna, her first love Bonifer, her brother and husband Aerys, and her sons Rhaegar and Viserys.

Finally, she took her last breath on her sickbed.

However, Queen Rhaella had a brief moment of clarity before her passing.

She seemed to understand that she was about to leave this world and tearfully held her infant daughter, who had taken her life, and gave her a beautiful name.

Daenerys Targaryen.

The swaddled infant had her eyes closed, her wrinkled face not looking particularly pleasant, and her silver hair clung to her scalp.

She was born amidst a storm and finally let out a loud cry as she curled up.

At the same time.

Boom—

A sudden thunderclap exploded in the sky above Dragonstone, lightning illuminating the entire sky as heavy rain poured down.

Many were startled, the master-at-arms seated outside even dropping the object in his hand.

He quickly bent down to pick it up.

It was a small wooden figure he had whittled with a dagger in his spare time.

It vaguely resembled a woman, but it lacked facial features, making it impossible to discern her identity.

...

Far away.

King's Landing.

A jet-black raven flew through the pristine blue sky, gazing down at the enormous city beneath it. It cocked its head slightly, its feathers ruffled by the high-speed airflow on both sides.

Flap, flap—

The raven then lowered its altitude, eventually arriving at the Red Keep atop Aegon's High Hill in King's Landing.

Rustle...

The disheveled, graying beard fluttered in the wind. Grand Maester Pycelle looked incredibly worn, his legs trembling as he walked over.

He tossed a treat to the raven and then removed the message from its leg.

Grand Maester Pycelle unfolded the letter, glanced at it briefly, and upon understanding its contents, his face changed dramatically.

His legs seemed to recover instantly, and he quickly gathered his robes and strode towards Maegor's Holdfast.

Several passing handmaidens witnessed this miraculous scene and stood dumbfounded in their tracks.

It was a letter from Storm's End, and it brought terrible news.

The royal fleet, overseen by Stannis and responsible for its construction, had been attacked by the Targaryen fleet while resting at Storm's End in preparation for weathering the storm.

...

The enemy had unexpectedly launched an attack from the sea, riding the storm to execute a near-perfect example of naval warfare. They demonstrated both boldness and cunning, willing to endure the storm's damage for the sake of annihilating the Baratheon fleet in one fell swoop.

Stannis had never anticipated that the Targaryen fleet would appear so suddenly on the waters of Shipbreaker Bay like divine intervention, with the fearsome storm serving to conceal their movements.

The outcome of this battle was the sinking of the royal fleet - one that the Iron Throne had invested heavily in and had high hopes for - into the depths of the sea.

Grand Maester Pycelle, of course, understood the gravity of the situation.

Having betrayed the Targaryen family, he knew that if they ever returned to power, he would likely be one of the first to die.

But the old man was not yet ready to die.

Thus, the fearful Grand Maester cast aside his façade of 'feeble steps' and hastily rushed to the Red Keep to report the matter to the new king, Robert Baratheon.

...

"What?!"

The young king, who was enjoying a drink in his chamber in the Red Keep, was shocked to hear this news.

He quickly stood up, snatched the letter from Pycelle's hands, and began to examine it.

The atmosphere in the king's chamber became tense. The servant responsible for pouring wine, as well as Pycelle, who had been relieved of the letter and accidentally fell to the floor, were both frightened and silent.

For everyone could sense the anger brewing within King Robert at that moment.

The young and vigorous king, standing up, seemed like a mountain. His thick black hair and beard were bristling, and his eyes were filled with rage as he paced back and forth within the spacious chamber.

Suddenly, without warning, he kicked over the table before him.

Boom—

The wine cups, books, and various messages from King's Landing on the table scattered across the floor.

Both the servant holding the wine jug and Grand Maester Pycelle shuddered in fear, with the white-haired old man sitting on the floor, his face pale, unable to get up for some time.

"Your Grace?"

Barristan Selmy, the captain of the Kingsguard, known as 'the Bold,' heard the commotion from outside the door and was slightly taken aback.

He hurriedly pushed the door open and entered, only to see King Robert roaring in anger.

"Seven hells!"

"Stannis, you useless fool!"

The king's bedroom was filled with Robert's thunderous roar, causing everyone's eardrums to vibrate, and even those in the corridor outside could hear it clearly.

"If I had sent a dog to command the fleet, it wouldn't have been annihilated! I should have done that! At least a dog wouldn't have let the ships be tied together for our damned enemies to set them all ablaze!"

Robert Baratheon was furious, and his disdain for his younger brother, whom he already disliked due to his character, grew even stronger.

He had thought that Stannis, though stubborn, was competent in warfare.

Trusting his own brother, he had assigned him this crucial task, but he never expected Stannis to bungle it so badly.

He could not bear the thought of the Targaryen "dragonspawn" remaining in the world. Only he could truly understand the depth of his hatred for the Targaryen family.

Yet, he had paid such a high price, poured in a seemingly bottomless pit of gold dragons, and even borrowed from Casterly Rock and the Iron Bank, only to receive such an outcome.

The 'dragonspawn' not only survived but had now effectively thrown their defiance in his face.

Ser Barristan Selmy, clad in his white cloak, remained silent, only slightly bowing before picking up the letter Stannis had penned from the floor and scanning it up and down.

After understanding the details of the situation, he stood there, momentarily stunned.

Chapter 41: The Hand of the King in the Royal Presence

He had not expected that the Targaryen family would manage to stage a counterattack in such dire circumstances.

Ser Barristan the Bold initially thought that the Targaryens were finished.

He was loyal to the Iron Throne and once even sought to die in service of the Targaryen dynasty.

However, he never expected that his bravery would win over Robert Baratheon, who pardoned his crimes and requested that Ser Barristan Selmy serve as the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for the new king.

At this moment, the White Cloak knight stood with one hand on the hilt of his sword, surveying the room's overturned table, spilled wine, documents sticking to the wine-soaked floor, the trembling maesters and servants, and the enraged new king.

With a beard and hair tangled like steel wire, his tall, strong body draped in a cloak, he resembled a furious, rampaging bear, his anger reaching the sky.

He continuously smashed items in the room, making loud noises that could be clearly heard even outside the hall.

Upon surveying the surrounding area, all that met his eyes was chaos.

However, the White Cloak knight silently observed everything, his hand on the sword hilt, without speaking or trying to calm the king's anger.

The crow's feet in the knight's eyes were somewhat deep, and his pale blue eyes appeared profound as he lowered his gaze to the floor.

He sighed softly and couldn't help but become lost in his memories.

This scene...

It felt eerily familiar.

Once, the other king he served, the previous occupant of this room, known as the 'Mad King' Aerys Targaryen II, often raged within these walls.

He would smash the room into chaos and even order those who angered him to be burned alive with 'wildfire,' reveling in their tortured screams.

Barristan thought that the era of the Targaryens had passed and that the 'Mad King' Aerys II, who had died at the hands of the Kingslayer, would never witness such a scene again.

However, he never expected that in just over half a year, he would once again see such a familiar sight.

"Ser Barristan the Bold!"

At this moment,

King Robert, in the midst of his anger and pacing about, suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He then looked up and stared intently at the Kingsguard commander standing at the doorway, holding Stannis's handwritten letter and lost in thought.

The king's voice was deep and powerful.

Although it seemed as if Robert had gained control of his temper, the anger hidden in his voice was still palpable.

However, unlike the 'Mad King,' Robert would not direct his anger at unrelated people.

He certainly would not burn people alive for amusement.

"Your Grace."

Hearing King Robert's voice, Ser Barristan returned to his senses and set down Stannis's letter.

He then raised his head, his gaze meeting the king's without wavering.

"Go to the Tower of the Hand and summon Lord Jon Arryn!"

"I have an urgent matter to discuss with him."

King Robert's voice boomed like the great bells of a cathedral.

It seemed he had made a crucial decision in his heart and couldn't wait to consult with his foster father, the current Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn of the Eyrie.

Robert relied heavily on the old lord, as he was brave, honest, and wise.

Had it not been for Lord Arryn's courageous protection of his two foster sons before the start of the War of the Usurper, and his defiance of the Mad King, Robert and Eddard might have been reduced to bones long ago.

There would be no King Robert or Lord Eddard Stark today.

So, Robert held the old lord in high regard and depended on him, seeking his advice on every decision.

As Eddard Stark put it,

"Perhaps only Jon Arryn could control Robert in this world, not even Robert's late parents could make this bastard change his ways."

However, the Kingsguard knight furrowed his brows upon hearing the king's words, but remained still.

"Hmm?"

"Get going!"

Robert, seeing that Ser Barristan had not immediately carried out his command, felt his anger flare up once more, and glared at the white-cloaked knight before questioning him.

Yet, Ser Barristan remained unmoved, calmly gazing at the still furious king, who resembled an enraged brown bear.

He sighed softly and spoke in a calm voice.

"Your Grace, have you forgotten... Lord Arryn, the Hand of the King, has been away from King's Landing for over a month."

The Baratheon dynasty had been established, but the Seven Kingdoms were not yet united. Dorne did not submit to the new king, and even House Greyjoy of the Iron Islands had not come to King's Landing to pledge their allegiance.

And now,

As Hand of the King, Lord Arryn had exhausted himself trying to heal the wounds left by a war that had lasted more than two years and swept across the entire continent of Westeros.

The kingdom had weathered the post-coronation period of chaos and had finally returned to order, but it had not yet recovered to its pre-war state under the Targaryen dynasty.

The issue of Dorne remained a thorn in the side, a problem the new dynasty had to resolve.

So, over a month ago,

Lord Arryn, having made all necessary preparations, set out for Dorne with the bones of Prince Lewyn Martell to begin peace negotiations.

He sought to quell the anger ignited in Dorne by the deaths of Prince Lewyn, Elia Martell, and her son Aegon.

What Ser Barristan Selmy had not expected was that the old lord, despite his age, had traveled so far to Dorne for the sake of uniting the kingdom.

Yet, the king in King's Landing spent his days indulging in pleasure, eating, drinking, and carousing, without paying any attention to the affairs of the realm.

All of this had piled up, waiting for Lord Arryn's return to be dealt with.

"Hmm?"

"Lord Jon Arryn has left King's Landing?"

Hearing Ser Barristan's frank words, King Robert's slightly chubby face clearly showed surprise. His anger had diminished quite a bit due to the interruption.

He truly couldn't remember this incident.

But upon hearing Ser Barristan's reminder, it seemed... he had a vague impression of it.

So that was it.

King Robert suddenly realized.

No wonder the old man hadn't come around lately to admonish him for his excessive eating and carousing.

It turned out that he had already left King's Landing for Dorne.

Chapter 42: Quarrel

"Since… the Hand has already left King's Landing, there's no need to trouble him with this matter."

The slightly rotund king choked a bit but quickly shook his head and continued speaking.

He turned his gaze to Maester Pycelle, who sat on the ground, groaning and dawdling. The king's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Stop your pretense!"

"Get up at once!"

Though Robert Baratheon had only sat on the Iron Throne for half a year after removing his armor, his figure had ballooned rapidly as if inflated.

However, the quickly accumulated fat could not erase his once-mighty muscles; it merely hid them temporarily beneath the layer of fat.

In fact, the rotund King Robert seemed even more imposing than when he had been on the battlefield, and a single glare from his copper-bell-like eyes was enough to make the posturing Maester Pycelle shudder before quickly getting up from the ground.

"Your Grace."

"Send a raven immediately, summoning all my bannermen. I shall personally attack Dragonstone!"

King Robert roared, unable to tolerate the continued existence of the Targaryens in the world. He had thought that once the royal fleet was built and sailed across Blackwater Bay, taking Dragonstone would be a piece of cake.

After all, the newly built royal fleet had consumed a seemingly bottomless pit of gold dragons. To consolidate his dominion over the seas, Robert Baratheon had envisioned a fleet larger than any on the continent of Westeros.

Its combined strength had even surpassed the formerly most powerful Iron Fleet.

The Baratheon-built fleet was far superior in scale, tonnage, and number of soldiers to the fleet of Dragonstone. Moreover, many of the Targaryen warships stationed at Dragonstone were already old and decrepit.

In naval combat, tactics and soldier quality were secondary; the most crucial factor was the strength of the warships. With a ship large and sturdy enough, they would be unstoppable, relying on sheer power.

So when such an enormous, powerful fleet encountered an old, toothless one, the outcome was clear.

But Stannis had sent the royal fleet to its doom in the sea. In his fury, Robert also felt a profound sense of threat.

For some reason.

After sitting on the Iron Throne for only half a year, Robert had changed significantly from the fearless Lord of Storm's End.

Not only in body shape.

Now, Robert roared in anger, demanding that all the nobles loyal to him send troops to attack Dragonstone.

Upon hearing King Robert's words, the white-haired, white-bearded Maester Pycelle stood dumbfounded in place.

Although everyone in the Red Keep knew that the king was bold and unrestrained—if not impulsive and reckless—Pycelle had not expected King Robert to be so mad.

Dragonstone was a small island with a harsh environment, sparse population, and at most, a tiny fishing village.

Was such a small island worth King Robert's time and resources to rally all his bannermen to attack?

"Your Grace…"

Maester Pycelle was somewhat flustered, his lips trembling as he tried to say something.

At that moment.

The silent Lord Commander of the Kingsguard suddenly spoke.

"Your Grace."

Ser Barristan Selmy rested one hand on the hilt of his sword, the pure white cloak draped on the ground behind him. He looked at the king's eyes with furrowed brows.

"On Dragonstone, there are only a widow and her orphaned children."

"They pose no threat to your position."

By now, Westeros was nearly entirely under Robert's control, from the Wall to the southernmost tip.

"They pose no threat to your position."

By now, Westeros was nearly entirely under Robert's control, from the Wall to the southernmost tip. With Hand Jon Arryn working to appease Dorne, the Seven Kingdoms would soon be united.

On Dragonstone, the widows and orphans had no one to rely on and no resources, only a ragtag fleet that posed no threat to Westeros.

"There is no need to mobilize against a helpless child and woman, Your Grace. It would tarnish your honor."

Although he now served House Baratheon, Ser Barristan had never told anyone that he had sworn to himself that if he saw King Robert smile when Tywin Lannister presented Rhaegar's children's corpses, he would never be loyal to Robert.

Furthermore, nothing in the world could stop him from killing Robert.

Not harming women and children was the honor and bottom line that Ser Barristan Selmy adhered to as a knight.

However, Ser Barristan's words seemed to ignite a powder keg, instantly enraging King Robert.

"Let me make myself clear!" he roared. "Ser Barristan Selmy, I want them dead! Mother and child, both! I don't want any dragonspawn left in this world!"

Angry King Robert was like a furious brown bear, bristling and spitting saliva as he glared at Ser Barristan, hoping to intimidate him with his presence.

But the white-cloaked knight did not waver under the king's pressure, continuing to meet his gaze.

Maester Pycelle was terrified by the situation and quickly tried to intervene.

"Your Grace, the Seven Kingdoms are at your feet. You can easily muster countless knights, but their horses cannot swim across the sea."

The white-haired Maester sided with the Kingsguard commander, not because he believed it was dishonorable to harm women and children, but because he thought King Robert was overreacting.

An important issue they had been discussing was the Baratheon dynasty's lack of a fleet. Thus, they had invested heavily in building one.

With the recent destruction of the newly built royal fleet, the Baratheons had temporarily lost their maritime ambitions.

Maester Pycelle spoke with a trembling voice.

"Lord Redwyne's fleet has been damaged and has returned to the Arbor to regroup."

"As for the Iron Fleet..."

"You seem to have forgotten, Your Grace, that Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands has yet to come to King's Landing and swear fealty."

Maester Pycelle cautiously observed King Robert's expression, using tactful language to avoid provoking him further.

He informed the king of the current situation: there was no battle-ready fleet at King Robert's disposal, and the sea was where the Targaryen remnants could roam freely.

...

The next day, news of the royal fleet's destruction in the harbor had spread throughout King's Landing.

It sent shockwaves through the city, with rumors of a Targaryen resurgence spreading like wildfire.

Meanwhile, far away, Viserys and the victorious Dragonstone fleet had already set out on their journey home.

The ships cut through the waves, heading towards the distant horizon.

.

Chapter 43: Homecoming

Swish—

The warship cleaved through the calm waters, moving serenely under the afternoon sun.

The sea, after the storm, was as quiet as a dignified young maiden. The smooth, mirror-like surface reflected the golden sunlight, and the gentle sea breeze caressed the boy's cheeks like a maiden's delicate hand.

Viserys stood on the highest deck of the Black Death, facing the sea breeze and savoring its gentle touch. His silvery-gold curls fluttered in the wind, and his lovely face was filled with tranquility.

This was the first time since he had arrived in this world that he had allowed himself to relax even a little.

Unlike the advice he had received from the maester earlier, this time Viserys truly felt that the once-looming sense of crisis had temporarily subsided.

At least for now, the immediate threats were gone, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief and buy himself some time.

"We're almost at Dragonstone."

At this moment, cheers arose from the soldiers on the lower deck. They had spotted the familiar island and knew that they were close to home.

In fact, among the soldiers in this fleet, there were not many from Dragonstone. Most were from the Crownlands near King's Landing and had been recruited there.

Some even hailed from other regions like the Westerlands, the Reach, and the Stormlands. A few were mercenaries from across the Narrow Sea in Essos.

For these soldiers, the concept of "home" had long since become blurred.

They were all poor folk, and in times like these, it was difficult for anyone who wasn't a noble to get ahead. Being a soldier was already considered a decent way out for those who were tall and strong.

At least they could plunder others without worrying about bandits daring to attack them.

For example, in King's Landing, becoming a goldcloak not only required good physical fitness but also a hefty bribe for the recruitment officer, which was no small sum for commoners.

The soldiers now cheered because they were finally returning to Dragonstone. They had survived the war once again, and the long days at sea had numbed them. They longed to set foot on land once more.

Viserys's heart also leaped with anticipation, his beautiful lilac eyes revealing his excitement.

The silver-haired boy then turned and looked in the opposite direction.

According to the nautical charts, the fleet was passing by the tip of a peninsula and navigating through the straits. This was one of the main sea routes between Essos and Westeros.

"Is that... Shipbreaker Bay?" Viserys asked, standing on the deck with his small hands gripping the railing as he gazed at the distant island silhouette.

Turning to the soldier beside him, he asked curiously.

"Yes, Your Grace," replied a slightly plump, black-haired soldier clad in leather armor with a longsword at his waist. He had a good-natured, simple look on his face.

The old knight was resting in the cabin, and an officer in charge of paperwork now accompanied Viserys.

The old knight had replaced his previous bodyguard, and this slightly plump officer now ensured Viserys's safety and answered his many questions.

It was unclear what the old knight's reasons were for making this arrangement.

Perhaps the previous guard was incompetent, or perhaps Viserys simply had too many questions.

Now appearing within the fleet's line of sight was the silhouette of an island, and the soldiers cheered upon seeing it.

Before setting sail, due to the approaching storm, visibility was low at sea, and Viserys had not noticed this nearby island.

However, he knew its name.

Tidehead Island.

Tidehead Island should have been a vassal of the Lord of Dragonstone, and the island's ruling house, House Valyrian, shared the Valyrian bloodline.

Once, they had been closely tied to House Targaryen, frequently intermarrying, but this relationship ceased after the time of Aegon III.

House Valyrian had also been one of the rulers of the seas of Westeros in the past, but during the bloody "Dance of the Dragon," they suffered a significant blow and eventually declined.

All of this had been explained to Viserys by Maester Danyel, who had insisted that he thoroughly study the histories of the various houses, memorizing their sigils and words.

Now, House Valyrian had not openly sided with the usurper, but they had also refused Dragonstone's summons, seemingly content to watch from the sidelines.

Viserys recalled when he and his mother had first arrived at Dragonstone, Queen Rhaella had summoned all the vassals of Dragonstone, but in truth, none had heeded her call.

Tidehead Island, despite its proximity to Dragonstone, had not responded at all, as if they had neither heard nor seen anything.

Viserys understood the choice of his distant relatives.

But while expressing understanding, he also had to be cautious of this neighbor's potential betrayal.

"House Valyrian also has a fleet."

At this moment, a voice came from behind Viserys and the steward.

Ser Joffrey, the old knight, had emerged from the cabin, having heard the two's conversation, and the pair on the deck turned to face him.

"Morford Valyrian is also a man of war."

Ser Joffrey's grizzled hair fluttered, and his weathered cheeks bore age spots as he rested a hand on his belt and gazed into the distance.

"But it's a pity that the fleet may have been lost at sea, and Count Morford has lost his courage as well."

Viserys could detect a hint of mockery in the old man's voice, but he did not press the matter further.

This unprecedented storm had destroyed any ships present in the area, even reducing some islands to nothing but submerged rubble.

Ser Joffrey's words also reassured Viserys that he need not worry about House Valyrian, as he seemed to have picked up on the subtle implications in Viserys' speech.

The Targaryen fleet passed by Tidehead Island without landing or even exchanging greetings, but the islanders were frightened nonetheless.

Viserys stood on the deck at the closest point to the island and finally saw the panicked figures of the startled people in the castle. They swarmed about, seemingly gazing in his direction.

They feared that the Targaryen fleet would pillage Tidehead Island in response to their previous silence.

However, neither Ser Joffrey nor Viserys had any such intentions.

By sailing so close to Tidehead Island, they merely aimed to issue a warning with the aura of their recent victory, urging those with ulterior motives on the island to think twice before making any moves.

Choose wisely.

The Targaryen fleet then sailed towards the horizon.

Tidehead Island was not far from Dragonstone, a mere thirty nautical miles away.

In less than half a day.

As the sun set, the fleet finally broke through the red sea haze and returned to Dragonstone.

Chapter 44: Tears

Naturally, the return of the fleet from their expedition caused a sensation on Dragonstone Island.

In fact, the news of their victory had already spread on the wings of ravens during the fleet's journey back.

First, it caused a stir in King's Landing, where rumors spread quickly due to the dense and diverse population. The gold cloaks had not yet had time to relax when they were once again in a frenzy, chasing after suspects.

Then the news spread out from King's Landing, brought to Dragonstone Island by merchant ships that stopped there for rest in between the two continents. The news even arrived a step ahead of the Targaryen fleet.

The Targaryen fleet had destroyed all of House Baratheon's ships in Shipbreaker Bay, but the rumors had mutated into several unreliable versions after passing through the grapevine.

The first version claimed that the Targaryen royal family had awakened a sleeping Valyrian dragon king on Dragonstone. Another said they had unearthed a treasure left behind by their ancestors.

As for the last version, it was even more fantastical. Rumor had it that Prince Viserys had performed a blood ritual on Dragonstone to awaken a bone dragon and then personally rode the dragon to re-enact Aegon the Conqueror's war on Westeros, burning Storm's End in the process.

However, amidst all the rumors, the most credible was the one where Viserys stood before the people.

The fleet sailed into the harbor and, after some difficulties, finally secured their ships.

Viserys stood at the bow of the ship, waiting with the soldiers to disembark. His long silver-gold hair billowed in the wind, and the boy looked dashing in his leather armor.

A pair of light purple eyes gazed into the distance before lowering to look at the crowd below.

Dragonstone, being at the center of the storm, had naturally suffered severe damage. Viserys looked around, and it seemed that the island had changed significantly compared to his memories.

Trees were torn apart, the land churned into mud, and the now-barren island appeared even more rugged, as if brutally ravaged.

In the distance, the volcano still spewed thick white smoke, and numerous rocks appeared to have slid down its slopes. Not far from the harbor, a small fishing village had been severely impacted by the rockslides.

Even now, many rocks still lingered in the village, destroying houses and what little arable land the villagers had.

In the small fishing village, Viserys saw many houses adorned with white cloth, indicating that family members had perished in the storm.

This village was the sole source of population on Dragonstone Island.

Their livelihood depended on fishing, which in turn depended on Dragonstone's port. But the once-functional harbor now lay in ruins, with wooden planks still floating in the sea.

Viserys turned his gaze downward, where he saw soldiers working urgently to repair the damage. They shouted in coordination as they struggled to secure the warships to the shore.

In the welcoming crowd below,

Ser Sand, the acting steward and lord of Dragonstone, had a somewhat grim expression on his face for some reason.

Beside him stood the former Red Keep's master-at-arms, Sir William Darry, who had once risked his life to protect Lady Rhaella and her children.

The two of them stood at the front, with Sir William holding the hand of the little girl Rhaenys. Servants and soldiers followed behind them.

Viserys looked down from the ship, and following in Sir Joffrey's footsteps, he descended from the Black Death with a group of soldiers.

Step by step...

His footsteps echoed on the wooden gangplank, one step at a time.

As Viserys stepped off the warship, the crowd awaiting him at the harbor saw the silver-haired boy and, without a word, fell to their knees in unison.

"Hm?"

Holding onto the makeshift, broken wooden gangplank, Viserys paused as he descended, slightly taken aback by the scene before him. He didn't know what had happened or why the people would do such a thing.

However, just as he was about to ask, he was interrupted by Rhaenys, who had broken free from the master-at-arms and run over to him.

The brown-haired girl tightly embraced Viserys, and tears flowed from her eyes in an instant. As Viserys held Rhaenys, he felt his shoulder dampened by her tears, and a bad premonition began to form in his heart.

"Rhaenys..."

As the sun set, the boy crouched down to embrace Rhaenys, his lips slightly cracked from dryness.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then hesitated.

In the end, he chose not to ask.

By the time the fleet arrived at Dragonstone, it was already evening. Unloading the spoils of war and securing the damaged warship, which had been battered by the storm, took time, and the sky was completely dark.

Walking along the winding mountain path, torches lit the way.

The fully armed guards on both sides protected their 'little king', holding torches high, the flickering flames casting long shadows in the wind.

Everyone in the group was silent, as if the joy of victory had not dispelled the gloom. They kept their mouths shut, saying nothing.

Due to the cooler temperature on the island at night, Viserys wore a black cloak.

The boy's silver-gold hair cascaded onto the soft cloak, swaying gently in the wind. His right hand held onto Rhaenys's small hand tightly.

"Sir William."

At that moment, Viserys, who had been silent for a long time since disembarking, finally spoke up. He seemed to have sensed something, but had not asked.

Now, he couldn't hold back any longer and turned to the master-at-arms walking beside him.

"My mother, she..."

Queen Rhaella had not come to the harbor, and Viserys had guessed something.

After all, this was a predestined fate.

He had once tried to change it, to cure his mother's heartache, to untie her emotional knot, and even to make her laugh and be happy.

But life is unpredictable, and many things that hadn't appeared in Viserys's memories had happened in this reality.

Queen Rhaella had suffered continuous shocks and blows, including the death of the old maester and the subsequent assassination attempts.

The master-at-arms's face darkened slightly. Hearing Viserys's words, he shook his head silently, not saying anything. But Viserys understood it all.

His heart thudded heavily, as if struck by a blow, and plunged to the depths.

He had known it all along, he had guessed it.

But when the truth finally confronted him, his emotions were severely affected.

Viserys stepped onto the next stone stair, then suddenly stopped halfway up the slope.

His one hand was holding Rhaenys's, but his palm unconsciously trembled slightly. His thin body bent over as if infected with a cold, wanting to cough violently, covering his mouth with his other hand.

"Cough—"

The shadow of the torch obscured his face as he tried to control his tears from falling.

He didn't want Rhaenys and the people around him to see him crying.

But in the end, it was all in vain.

Tears broke free from his eyes.

...

Chapter 45: Burial

Under the deepening night.

Viserys stood quietly on the hillside.

Whoosh—

The black velvet cloak fluttered in the wind, and his slightly curled hair swept across his pale purple eyes.

This place was on the sunny side of the hill on Dragonstone, where an active volcano lay. Due to the current summer months of June and July, the temperature on the island was quite high. Queen Rhaella's body could not be preserved, so they didn't wait for Viserys to return.

As the acting lord of Dragonstone, steward appointed by Prince Rhaegar, the Duke of Dragonstone, a Dornish bastard led the people of the island in holding a funeral for Queen Rhaella.

They buried the queen, whose life had been filled with ups and downs, here.

"Mother had a cheerful and lively nature; she should be accompanied by sunshine, breeze, and white clouds."

Viserys stood at the forefront, his voice suddenly cutting through the air, carried far by the wind.

But... atop Queen Rhaella's tombstone was billowing white smoke.

'Fire and Blood' was the Targaryen family's motto. It wasn't strange for Queen Rhaella, as a Targaryen, to choose to be neighbors with fire after her death, so Viserys didn't have any objections to his mother's burial site.

Viserys stood at the forefront, surrounded by many guards, with the acting lord of Dragonstone, Ser Sand, standing behind him.

With a yellow headscarf wrapped around his head and a few fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, Ser Sand squinted slightly, and the wrinkles deepened.

Ser Sand looked at Viserys' back, slightly lost in thought.

The master-at-arms standing beside him noticed this and frowned, deeply looking at the other.

He opened his mouth as if wanting to say something, but ultimately remained silent, retracting his gaze and looking back at Queen Rhaella's tombstone.

Viserys didn't say much in front of the tombstone either, just sitting quietly for a while before standing up.

He seemed even calmer than when he first heard the news, showing no emotional outburst, only hidden sadness in his heart.

"Let's go."

The silver-haired boy tilted his head slightly, and under the light of the torches, Viserys' handsome cheek was illuminated by the fire on one side, while the other half was shrouded in darkness, with only a pair of bright eyes standing out.

"Yes, Your Grace."

The guards quickly responded to Viserys' words.

Their address had changed from 'Your Highness' to 'Your Grace' at some point.

But Viserys didn't care about this at all. An empty title without power made no difference whether he was a prince or a king.

He didn't care about an empty name.

In fact, if he could, he'd rather give up these titles and become an ordinary person, but reality wouldn't allow him to do so.

Even if he gave up the title of king, as long as his surname was Targaryen and his blood still boiled with the heat of the 'Dragon Kings', House Baratheon would never let him go.

Viserys couldn't escape; even fleeing wouldn't grant him a dignified death.

So, he had to fight bravely against them, using swords, fists, or even biting with his teeth, to struggle for a chance to survive and a place to stand.

"Viserys."

At this moment, the master-at-arms, who had been silent behind him, suddenly spoke.

"There's something..."

William Darry began speaking, even forgetting that he should now address Viserys as 'Your Grace.'

The acting lord of Dragonstone didn't know why, but his throat moved slightly, as if swallowing saliva, and his hand reached towards his waist.

Among the guards holding torches, a few exchanged glances in silence, seemingly aware of the tension in each other's eyes.

Viserys, hearing the voice of the master-at-arms, turned his head slightly towards him.

His silver-golden hair curled on his forehead and was blown apart by the wind.

Seeing the hesitation in the master-at-arms, Viserys raised his hand to interrupt him.

"I know what you're going to say, Ser."

Viserys interrupted the master-at-arms.

"I'm tired now."

"We can discuss it tomorrow."

The master-at-arms wanted to say something, but Viserys stopped him. They exchanged a glance, and he saw an unusual color in the boy's pale purple eyes.

How did Viserys know? He had just returned.

"Is that so?"

The middle-aged master-at-arms frowned slightly but decided not to continue after weighing the matter.

He had looked into Viserys' eyes, and he trusted the boy's judgment.

On the other side, a few guards and Ser Sand sighed in relief, their hanging hearts finally at ease.

They didn't know what the former Red Keep master-at-arms wanted to say to Viserys, whether he had discovered their plan, but now was not the right time to act.

In small-scale battles, William Darry's swordsmanship was the biggest obstacle to their plan.

The Red Keep master-at-arms' brilliance had been overshadowed by his older brother, a Kingsguard, but William Darry's swordsmanship should not be underestimated.

His brother, former Kingsguard to Aerys II, Jon Darry, might not have fared well against him either.

And such a skilled knight, even with recurring old injuries and some frailty, was not someone they could easily handle.

Especially since there were more of them here.

Afterward, the party with varying intentions left the active volcano and returned to Dragonstone.

Viserys was somewhat tired, having not slept all day on the ship, and it was now the middle of the night.

Still, the silver-haired boy insisted on seeing his sister, Daenerys Targaryen, who was being cared for by a wet nurse found somewhere.

The future famous girl.

Viserys entered the wet nurse's room. She was a native of Dragonstone who had recently given birth and had milk, so the guards had brought her to nurse Princess Daenerys.

The silver-haired boy stood before the tiny crib, fighting his fatigue to carefully observe the infant girl swaddled in soft blankets.

A touch of coarse silver hair, a wrinkled face that wasn't particularly adorable, and a pair of bright, large eyes.

Their eyes met.

She saw Viserys and, for some reason, giggled, reaching out to grab the 'little grown-up' before her.

Viserys, seeing Daenerys' smile, felt some of his weariness dissipate.

Gently, he reached out and held his sister's tiny hand. .

Chapter 46: The Traitor

Viserys held Daenerys's small hand, and the sense of kinship from their shared blood surged forth.

Blood is thicker than water.

The infant girl in her swaddling clothes revealed a happy smile on her wrinkled little face, giggling incessantly.

Although she couldn't understand who the boy in front of her was, the closeness hidden in her blood told Daenerys that this person would be one of the closest to her in her life.

Viserys stood by the baby's crib and playfully teased his little sister for a moment before letting out a small yawn.

Exhausted from the long journey, he stopped teasing Daenerys and regained his composure, standing straight.

Standing by the crib, looking somewhat at a loss, was a young woman with freckles on her face and an ample bosom full of milk.

She was the wet nurse the guards had found to care for Daenerys.

The wet nurse was a bit flustered at the moment. This was the first important person she had seen since arriving at the castle, and the acting lord and knights in armor all stood obediently behind the young boy.

Viserys's gaze then turned to the wet nurse who was caring for his sister. His light purple eyes held a scrutinizing look as he sized her up.

As Viserys's mental strength surpassed twenty, his gaze seemed to carry an oppressive force, causing those who met his eyes to feel an inexplicable urge to retreat.

The well-endowed wet nurse swallowed nervously, never imagining she would be intimidated by a young boy's gaze.

The room fell silent, and an air of stillness hung for a moment.

Then, the boy's pre-adolescent, spring-like pleasant voice rang out.

"Reward!"

Viserys reached into his pocket, trying to find a few silver stags to reward her, as a token of encouragement, and to thank the wet nurse for nursing his child while also sharing her milk with Daenerys.

However, to Viserys's embarrassment, he patted and searched, certain that he should have a few silver stags in his pocket. He had played with them before falling asleep in the ship's cabin the night before.

Could it be that he had dropped them while being too tired and falling asleep, and they had ended up under the bed?

That would be too unfortunate – losing his money in the ship's cabin.

Viserys secretly resolved to find the money the next day.

However, the more pressing matter at hand was how to alleviate the awkward situation...

With Viserys's crisp voice, the people in the room shivered slightly. No one expected Viserys to be so generous.

However, as Viserys rummaged through his clothes, he never found what he was looking for, and the gazes of the people in the room began to change.

"This..."

The people in the room exchanged glances, and the atmosphere became extremely awkward for a moment.

Viserys's little face remained tense, appearing surprisingly composed.

While he continued to search meaninglessly in his empty pocket, his mind was racing, trying to figure out how to defuse the awkward situation.

"Your Majesty."

"Your wallet seems to be with me."

At that moment, Sir William, standing behind Viserys, could no longer bear to watch.

He knew his disciple all too well and was the first to realize that Viserys must have run out of money in his pocket.

The instructor then took a gold dragon from his pocket and handed it to Viserys.

Viserys sighed with relief and gave Sir William a grateful glance.

He then cleared his throat, caressed the carving on the surface of the gold dragon, and, suppressing the reluctance in his heart, handed the gleaming gold coin to the wet nurse as a reward.

The wet nurse was naturally taken aback by the gift, knowing that the value of a single gold dragon was enough to buy her services and send her to work in Shataya's manse in King's Landing.

After rewarding the wet nurse, Viserys turned to the people behind him and abruptly addressed Sir William.

"Sir William."

"I'm a bit concerned about Daenerys's safety after what happened before."

Viserys was referring to the incident a few months ago when mercenaries from across the Narrow Sea secretly infiltrated Dragonstone and attempted an assassination.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?"

Daenerys and the wet nurse were staying in the former room of Queen Rhaella. There were enough rooms here to spare one for Sir William, while Viserys remained in his old bedroom.

He hoped the master-at-arms could protect his sister's safety.

The curly-haired, middle-aged master-at-arms hesitated briefly after hearing the young king's words, but eventually nodded in agreement.

"Alright."

He was unsure why Viserys had suddenly made this decision, but he had a feeling there might be more to it than met the eye.

...

Later.

The night was deep.

After visiting his sister, Viserys finally returned to his own bedroom to rest.

The entire castle had fallen silent, seemingly fast asleep.

However, in the distance...

At the port of Dragonstone, Ser Joffrey donned his armor and took a longsword from a soldier, fastening it to his waist.

A group of strong and elite soldiers from the fleet followed the old knight, but instead of riding warhorses, they walked towards Dragonstone castle on foot, extinguishing all torches.

Dozens of soldiers, led by the old knight, approached the castle silently under the cover of night.

Within the castle...

Viserys returned to his bedroom, not bothering to remove his armor, only covering himself with a blanket. He blew out the candle with a huff and fell into a deep sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed.

In the distance, the church bell rang, signaling the time.

A faint hint of dawn appeared on the horizon, the time when people were most tired and weary.

A guard who had been on duty all night yawned. However, at that moment, a figure emerged from the darkness, holding a dagger in one hand and covering the guard's mouth with the other. The dagger was thrust viciously into the guard's throat.

The sharp dagger penetrated without resistance.

The guard's eyes widened in terror, staring in disbelief at the person who had killed him.

He never expected that this person would suddenly strike him down.

Before he could comprehend what had happened, his vision went black, and his body collapsed to the ground.

The acting lord of Dragonstone, a bastard from Dorne, wiped the blood from his face, looking somewhat sinister. A few Targaryen guards followed behind him.

As the fleet achieved a major victory in Shipbreaker Bay, they realized that they couldn't delay any longer, or they would eventually be exposed.

Their sense of crisis deepened, and finally, on the eve of dawn, they made up their minds to execute their plan.

"Follow me!"

"Kill the vile spawn of the dragon!"

Chapter 47: Traces of Conspiracy

The night was silent and deep.

Viserys lay asleep in his bedroom, nestled on his soft bed.

His silver-gold hair splayed across the pillow, the boy's delicate skin was enviable, his handsome cheeks were rosy, and his lips gently pursed.

At that moment, however,

A sudden commotion erupted within the castle, faint shouts echoing through the halls, followed by the clang of clashing steel and screams of pain.

By now, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn.

Viserys had only just closed his eyes for a few hours before the cacophony awoke him.

The boy's long eyelashes quivered slightly, and finally, his pale violet eyes, like precious gemstones, slowly opened.

"Damn it."

Viserys sat up in bed, casting off his soft blankets, his silver-gold hair cascading over his shoulders.

At first, his eyes were clouded with confusion and impatience, but eventually, he shook his head to dispel the irrelevant thoughts.

He heard the noises outside, the sounds of weapons colliding, and the battle cries growing closer. In an instant, he understood what was happening.

"Has it begun?"

The last remnants of sleepiness vanished from Viserys's mind, and he instantly became alert.

In truth, he had long been aware of Ser Sand's impending betrayal.

The reason, of course, was that he had discovered traces of conspiracy long before.

The mysterious death of Maester Daniel had raised suspicions, seemingly poisoned by someone.

On his deathbed, the old maester had grasped Viserys's hand, whispering in his ear to warn him of treacherous individuals within the castle and to exercise caution.

The old maester had lived a long life, especially by the standards of this era. He had traveled many paths and met countless people.

After personally tutoring Viserys for several months, he had reached a conclusion he had never shared with anyone else.

This conclusion had remained buried in the old maester's heart until he was laid to rest in his coffin.

It might sound unbelievable, but...

He believed that Prince Viserys was even more exceptional than Prince Rhaegar.

This idea might not align with the opinions of many, but the old maester had persisted in his judgment.

He had tutored Rhaegar and later taught Viserys as well.

In fact, he had spent considerably more time with Rhaegar than with Viserys.

There was no question that Prince Rhaegar was wise, but his wisdom remained confined within a certain framework, perhaps this era or this world.

The old maester hadn't thought this was a problem, as Rhaegar's intelligence had left him in awe.

However, after Maester Daniel had met Viserys and engaged in deep conversations with the boy, the old maester was astounded to discover that Viserys could casually bring up ideas that transcended this era, even this world.

Some of these ideas were shocking, some impractical, and some simply extraordinary.

Maester Daniel considered himself well-read, having explored a variety of books from the Age of Heroes eight thousand years ago to numerous contemporary works.

Yet Viserys' ideas had never been confined to this framework, and perhaps it was this that made them even greater.

This was why the old maester, on his deathbed, grasped Viserys' hand and whispered the secret to him instead of Queen Rhaella.

For the maester believed that Viserys would handle it far better than his mother.

Viserys had never betrayed the old maester's dying expectations, keeping the secret from everyone, including his own mother.

It wasn't that he worried she would betray him, but her mental state had already significantly deteriorated.

She was prone to inexplicable fits of anger or tears.

Viserys didn't want to trouble Queen Rhaella with such matters, so he had been quietly orchestrating his plans alone.

But fortune favors the diligent, and after the old maester's death, Viserys discovered that someone had tampered with the raven cages used for communication on Dragonstone.

Someone seemed to have been using the ravens to send messages after eliminating the old maester.

However, the perpetrator had been cautious, leaving no trace for Viserys to follow, making it impossible to identify them.

Were they a single person... or a group?

Before joining the fleet on its expedition, Viserys deliberately informed Ser William of the matter.

As Viserys' swordsmanship teacher, Ser William had once risked his life to save Queen Rhaella and young Viserys. Without him, Viserys would have died long ago. Thus, Ser William was unquestionably trustworthy.

Viserys hoped that Ser William could keep an eye out for any suspicious activities that might surface in his absence.

This explained why Ser William had hesitated to speak several times in Viserys' presence.

Yet Viserys had not allowed him to voice his concerns.

For the boy had already learned the identity of the traitor hidden on the island through other channels before returning to Dragonstone.

During the fleet's return journey, they intercepted a small boat near the edge of Dragonstone's waters. The occupants, upon seeing the fleet's approach, hurriedly tried to speed away.

However, the experienced sailors in the fleet pursued and eventually cornered them.

Some on the boat even attempted to jump overboard and drown themselves, but only one succeeded, while the others were fished out of the water.

After intense interrogations, the captured individuals finally confessed their identities.

They were all from King's Landing, and Dragonstone's acting lord, Ser Sand, had secretly pledged his loyalty to House Baratheon.

King Robert on the Iron Throne had even promised him a castle and an earldom with a stroke of his pen.

But because a fleet was stationed on Dragonstone, they couldn't directly hand over Queen Rhaella and Viserys, so they waited for an opportunity.

Then the storm surge arrived.

They knew it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, hoping to use the chaos of the storm or the fleet's departure as a chance to kill Queen Rhaella and Viserys before escaping.

But fate took another twist.

Viserys had left with the Dragonstone fleet, and they didn't know where it was headed.

Ser Joffrey was hot-tempered and stubborn, never taking the acting lord seriously.

Chapter 48: The Rebellion

As a male of House Targaryen, Viserys' life was in fact far more important than that of Queen Rhaella, including the child in her womb, until its gender was determined.

None of them was more important than Viserys' head.

If they took great risks to carry out their plan, only to kill Queen Rhaella but leave Viserys alive, their plan would be a complete failure, and the Iron Throne would not fulfill its promise.

Because the Targaryen heir had not died.

So, out of helplessness, the Dornish bastard and the guards he had bribed had to continue waiting patiently for Viserys to return.

Then news of the great victory in the Battle of Shipbreaker Bay arrived.

The Targaryen fleet had destroyed the Baratheon navy in one battle and returned triumphantly.

In fact, Ser Sand had already been cornered by Viserys, and even the possibility of continuing to hide had disappeared.

Because as the castle's master, he could already sense the undercurrents within Dragonstone.

Perhaps someone had already noticed their movements and was secretly investigating something, almost tracing it back to him.

The cook he had bribed before had already been secretly disposed of by him, silencing any loose ends.

But that was not enough.

Ser Sand's inner fear grew with each passing day after the news of the fleet's victory.

He was afraid that if his actions were exposed, he would die in a gruesome manner.

So, with nothing left to lose, he took the initiative to contact the spy from King's Landing and informed him that on the first night of Viserys' return to Dragonstone, he would launch a plan to kill both him and the newborn Targaryen girl.

He then requested that the other party send a small boat to evacuate them.

The bastard had no choice but to act, no longer caring about the return of the Targaryen fleet.

His sense of urgency told him that if they did not launch the plan now, they might be exposed and skinned alive before they could do anything.

And if they abandoned the plan and fled overnight, not only would the castle and the title slip through their fingers, but House Baratheon might not let him go, and he would have to live in exile on the continent of Essos.

So after weighing his options, Ser Sand made the desperate decision.

Unfortunately for him, the spy did not know that the people from King's Landing had not yet reached Dragonstone in time to assist him, and instead ran straight into the returning Targaryen fleet. They couldn't even abandon ship and jump into the sea, as they were all caught in one fell swoop.

And he was exposed as well.

So, in fact, Viserys knew that Ser Sand was the traitor on Dragonstone before he even disembarked.

But Viserys did not order his guards to kill the man as soon as he disembarked.

Because he was sure that if the other party wanted to carry out a plan to kill him, there had to be more than just one person involved.

So he wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to lure them all out and capture them all at once.

Otherwise, if they did not make full use of this opportunity to completely eliminate these people, they would remain a hidden danger on the island.

This was Viserys' plan.

He had already discussed it with the knowledgeable old knight. Ser Joffrey would lead some of the elite from the fleet along with his own guards, setting out for Dragonstone in the dead of night without arousing any suspicion.

And within Dragonstone, there would be someone arranged to open the gates for them.

And now.

Viserys sat up from his soft bed, listening to the sounds of battle outside. The guards within Dragonstone had been alerted and rushed out.

They didn't know who was attacking them, assuming it was the same situation as a few months prior, with mercenaries from across the Narrow Sea sneaking into the castle for a surprise attack.

However, they didn't expect it to be their own brothers-in-arms suddenly turning on them, causing many guards to be injured or killed.

A large portion of Dragonstone's guards had once served Rhaegar Targaryen, and the majority of them remained loyal to House Targaryen. But a few had been bribed by Ser Sand.

As the guards realized who their attackers were, they accused them of betrayal, their anger fueling their counterattack. Both sides fought fiercely throughout the castle.

Viserys, surprisingly calm, sat on his bed. Although he'd been in this world for less than a year, the boy had already experienced more excitement and danger than in his previous life.

Ambushes, assassinations, war.

Viserys' blood still boiled with excitement, but he no longer felt the initial panic and nervousness.

In Westeros, there's a saying: "A green soldier becomes a veteran by surviving a battle and killing an enemy."

The silver-haired boy had already gone through this transformation, so he no longer felt helpless when faced with danger.

Viserys calmly adjusted his armor and grabbed the shortsword beside his bed. But his most powerful weapon was a crossbow left behind by the mercenary who had once tried to kill him.

At this stage, Viserys felt that this weapon was the most useful to him. Holding a loaded crossbow and aiming it at an enemy was more intimidating than holding a sword.

As he was contemplating this, there was a knock on his door.

"Your Grace," the guards outside reminded him, worried that the young king was still asleep.

These two fully-armored soldiers were elite guards temporarily assigned from the fleet, replacing Viserys' original guards.

Having served the old knight for many years, their loyalty was unquestionable, which is why Viserys could sleep soundly.

Viserys opened the door and stepped out of his bedroom.

Although he wasn't very concerned about Ser Sand's rebellion, he knew that his life wasn't just about him anymore; it represented the many people still loyal to House Targaryen.

As planned, Viserys would be escorted away from his bedroom since it would undoubtedly be the primary target of the rebels.

The two guards were to escort the young king to the map room. The naval elite, who had rushed in from outside the castle, would head straight to the map room to ensure Viserys' safety before quelling the rebellion within the castle.

"Let's go," Viserys said calmly, adjusting his collar and holding the crossbow as the guards moved to protect him.

"Yes, Your Grace," the two guards solemnly replied, and they escorted Viserys towards the top floor of the castle.

...

Chapter 49: Blood and Fire

The sounds of battle roared outside.

Steady footsteps echoed through the corridor.

The flames flickered on the dragon claw torches lining the walls as Viserys walked among them, the clamor outside growing closer. Despite his outward appearance, he couldn't help but feel a chill in his heart.

He had thought that the rebellion would be a minor incident, a small act of defiance by Ser Sand and a few soldiers, easily quelled without much effort. However, Viserys hadn't anticipated it would grow to such a scale. It seemed there were far more soldiers within Dragonstone harboring rebellious intentions than he had imagined.

He and his mother had been living in danger all along.

Who knew how many eyes filled with malice had been watching the mother and son from the shadows, waiting for a chance to kill them and claim the bounty on their heads?

Even now, the thought sent shivers down Viserys's spine, and his heart raced.

Indeed, the Targaryen's grip on power had slipped, and now it was House Baratheon who sat on the Iron Throne.

What guarantee was there that these guards would remain loyal to House Targaryen, without any hint of wavering?

As he pondered this, Viserys's grip on the crossbow tightened. But this time, it would all come to an end.

"All these hidden traitors will be drawn out and eliminated in one sweep."

The silver-haired boy exhaled a shaky breath, realizing that his palm gripping the crossbow was damp with cold sweat.

He wasn't as composed as he pretended to be. He was afraid, terrified of what might happen, of dying. But he had improved since the days when he couldn't even fake courage.

Two guards escorted Viserys through the corridors of the Drum Tower.

They ascended the stone steps to the highest level of the main keep, where a grand table displaying a map of the entire continent of Westeros was located.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

Two guards standing watch outside the map room saluted Viserys, their fists clenched over their hearts. Viserys merely nodded at them, acknowledging their loyalty to House Targaryen.

The guards then pushed open the heavy oak doors to the map room.

With a creak, Viserys and the soldiers entered.

They bolted the door from the inside, then barricaded it with overturned furniture to prevent any surprise attacks from traitors.

Once inside the map room, Viserys headed straight for the central seat, once occupied by his mother, Queen Rhaella. Long ago, it had been the seat of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, Visenya and Rhaenys, their three dragons surveying Westeros with ambitious gazes.

Now, Viserys took his place there.

He, the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms… a long list of titles that ended with Viserys Targaryen III.

The silver-haired boy sat on the heavy chair, but he didn't feel its cold hardness. Queen Rhaella, pregnant at the time, couldn't sit on something so chilly, so the seat had been lined with luxurious, soft animal furs.

Viserys's hands rested on the armrests as he looked down at the massive map table, an intricately carved and detailed representation of the continent of Westeros. The table was over fifty feet long and half as wide at its broadest point, narrowing to less than four feet at its slimmest.

And there, at the spot on the map corresponding to Dragonstone, Viserys sat.

Nearly three hundred years ago, the designers, through careful consideration, ensured that this throne's position overlooked the entire continent of Westeros.

King's Landing, Harrenhal, Riverrun, the Eyrie, Casterly Rock...

Viserys' gaze began at Dragonstone, and constantly jumped between these major cities on the continent of Westeros. At the request of the old maester, he had previously read about Aegon the Conqueror's war history.

These were the very routes Aegon the Conqueror took to conquer Westeros.

At the Battle of the Blackwater, three dragons joined the fight, their fiery breath burning the grasslands. The fires frightened the horses and the smoke obscured the soldiers' vision, making it impossible for them to see their enemies.

This battle directly led to the collapse of the combined armies of King Loren Lannister of the Rock and King Mern Gardener IX of the Reach, with nearly 55,000 soldiers.

As Viserys immersed himself in history, a vague illusion appeared before his eyes, as if witnessing the epic battle himself.

The noise outside the council chamber awakened him.

"Kill the dragonspawn!"

"Kill the Mad King's son!"

The council chamber's heavy wooden door was blocked by toppled cabinets and heavy objects, but the cries for blood seemed to be just outside.

Clang, clang, clang—

Everywhere were sounds of weapons clashing, battle cries, and blades slicing into flesh, accompanied by the screams of wounded soldiers.

It seemed that the last two guards stationed outside the council chamber had already begun to fight the rebels.

Bang!

Another heavy thud hit the door, as if a soldier collided with it in the midst of the struggle. The thick wooden door quivered slightly, but the heavy objects behind it prevented the door from being forced open.

Viserys suddenly came to his senses.

Silver-gold hair hung over the boy's pale cheeks, his elbow resting on the arm of the throne, his palm supporting his face. He then lifted his head slightly.

Awakened by the nearby battle cries, his face turned a bit pale, and fear began to show in his previously calm, lilac eyes.

The boy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

"The enemy... is at the door."

"My lords."

Viserys remained seated on the throne but straightened his thin body slightly.

He wanted to say something inspiring.

In truth, Viserys was now trapped, with the council chamber's throne leading to a huge terrace behind it, offering a view of the vast ocean, dozens of yards above the ground, and certain death if one were to jump.

Fear still lingered in the boy's voice as he tried to remain composed.

Yet he clutched the loaded crossbow in his hands, aimed at the direction of the entrance.

If the enemy charged in, he would ensure the first one to enter would die.

"Swear to protect His Majesty to the death!"

Two fiercely loyal soldiers from the Targaryen fleet, however, drew their swords and banged their shields, standing on both sides of the throne.

They vowed that the traitors must step over their corpses to harm the young king.

Chapter 50: Suppressing the Rebellion

The bravery of the two guards slightly bolstered Viserys' morale.

The silver-haired boy still sat unmoved on his chair, gripping the crossbow in his hand.

Thud—

At that moment.

A loud noise came from the door of the council chamber, accompanied by the sound of clashing metal, as if someone was banging against the door.

Viserys' heart tightened, and cold sweat seeped from his palms, but his eyes remained unshaken, staring intently at the door.

The silver-haired boy could clearly hear the heavy breathing of the two young guards beside him. They were obviously nervous, not fearless, but they showed no signs of backing down.

The sounds of battle continued outside the door.

Splurt—

The sound of a sword slicing through a throat, followed by a shrill scream.

Crash—

Tables and chairs were toppled, torches thrown to the ground, and flames roared.

The fighting outside was fierce, and the three people hiding inside the council chamber felt like prisoners waiting for fate's judgment, unsure what would happen when the door was finally opened.

Life or death.

The atmosphere in the council chamber was so tense it felt almost frozen. Even breathing became cautious, and cold sweat trickled down their foreheads.

Every second spent waiting felt like torture.

However, after an unknown amount of time had passed.

Thud—

The wooden door was struck again, jolting Viserys back to reality. He had been lost in thought without realizing it.

Since arriving on Dragonstone, he frequently experienced these strange bouts of absent-mindedness and hallucinations, such as when he stared at the map earlier.

This condition seemed to be worsening.

However, after being startled back to his senses, Viserys noticed that the sounds of battle outside had stopped. Everything suddenly became quiet, except for the repeated banging on the door, as if nothing else had happened.

"Is the battle over?"

Viserys sat up straight, focusing his attention on the door, gripping his crossbow tightly.

The toppled cabinet that had been blocking the door was now partially opened.

The door was about to be breached.

The next second.

Boom—

Several fully-armored knights, with blood-stained swords in hand, brutally forced open the door of the council chamber using their massive shoulders.

Wood splinters flew.

The heavy wooden door was left riddled with holes, the blood outside smeared like paint everywhere. One glance was enough to make one's head pound, face pale, and the stench in the air nauseating.

Viserys' crossbow was also triggered at this moment.

Thud—

The crisp sound of the bowstring shattered the silence that followed the door being forced open.

The powerful crossbow string released its energy, and the bolt that had been loaded onto it shot out.

Then, in the terrified eyes of the knight who had stormed into the council chamber, it was violently embedded into the black stone wall above the door.

Thud!

Broken stones scattered, and dust fell onto the armor of the two knights below, creating a rustling sound. .

And the two knights, apart from being startled, were left somewhat disheveled.

"Your Grace!"

At that moment,

Following the two knights who had rushed in, an old man clad in gleaming armor and a red cloak embroidered with the Targaryen three-headed dragon entered with large strides, carrying a blood-soaked figure in one hand.

Thud, thud...

The old man's footsteps were heavy, and he showed no fear as he faced Viserys with the crossbow aimed directly at him.

"Keep calm."

The man was none other than the commander of the Dragonstone fleet, Ser Joffrey, and the blood-soaked figure he carried turned out to be a person upon closer inspection.

The trail of blood left on the ground was as if it had been spilled carelessly, extending all the way from the entrance to the center of the map room, where the figure was finally dropped in front of the massive map table.

Thump—

The bloodied captive fell to the ground without making a sound, like a pile of rotting meat. If it weren't for the faint heaving of his chest and the gasps for air, one might have assumed he was already dead.

"I apologize, Ser."

Viserys, somewhat embarrassed, sat in the main seat, then used both hands to push off the armrests and stand up to apologize to the old knight and the two knights who had initially burst through the door.

He had been a little too nervous just now.

So much so that when they had first rushed in, his reflexive response was to pull the bowstring.

But Viserys's compensatory reaction was quick, and he slightly raised his aim just before the bolt was fired, causing it to embed itself in the wall above the door.

Fortunately, no serious mistake had been made.

Viserys then turned his gaze to the bloodied man brought in by Ser Joffrey.

Although the man was now a bloody pulp, almost unrecognizable, Viserys immediately identified him.

He was none other than the acting castellan and steward appointed by Rhaegar before leaving Dragonstone, the Dornish bastard Daevi Sand , and also the mastermind behind the rebellion.

He had already been bought by the forces in King's Landing, lured by the promise of a high interest, a count's title, and a castle in exchange for betraying House Targaryen and killing the widows and orphans who had fled to Dragonstone.

But Sand had been afraid that even if the plan to kill Queen Rhaella and her children succeeded, he would not be able to escape the pursuit of the Dragonstone fleet, so he had hesitated to act, missing several good opportunities.

It wasn't until the storm was approaching and Viserys left Dragonstone with the fleet that he missed the best opportunity.

Now, in a desperate last stand, he was suppressed by the well-prepared Viserys.

All the guards, servants, and 'rats' from King's Landing he had bribed on Dragonstone had died in this rebellion, a total loss.

"Do you want to interrogate him personally?"

"Your Grace."

The two knights who had initially rushed in slightly touched their chests, not daring to accept Viserys's apology.

Meanwhile, the old knight simply ignored these formalities and bluntly asked the young figure standing beside the main seat.

"Interrogate him personally?"

Viserys hesitated upon hearing Ser Joffrey's words, his curly hair covering the boy's ears, making him look rather adorable, before shaking his head.

"No."

"Ser Joffrey."

Viserys stood beside the main seat, then slightly turned his body as if wanting to sit back down, showing little interest in observing the bloodied figure any further.

However, as if suddenly remembering something, Viserys stopped in his tracks, turned his head to look at Ser Joffrey standing in front of the map table, and spoke.

"I want to know what he has done exactly. I'll leave this matter to you."

Viserys then added another sentence.

"But it would be best to leave him alive for me to personally deal with in the end."

Chapter 51: Interrogation

"A qualified king should not personally deal with such a lowly criminal."

"Your Majesty."

However, when the old knight standing in front of the map table heard Viserys' request, his brow furrowed slightly before he spoke up.

"He will sully your hands."

He didn't know why Viserys wanted to personally deal with this traitor, but such an act would be acceptable for anyone else but a king.

It could even affect the king's honor.

And after all, Viserys was only an eight-year-old child at this point.

At what age did Ser Joffrey kill someone?

He couldn't remember.

But it seemed like it was during his teenage years, around sixteen or seventeen.

He impulsively drew his sword and killed a man in the street, his chest stained with blood. His palms were trembling, and even though he had practiced swordsmanship diligently, he couldn't hold onto the sword after the actual kill.

Since then, Ser Joffrey had left his family, his hometown, and even the land. He didn't want to return to Westeros, nor did he want to bring up his past.

And how old was Viserys when he achieved all this?

Now, although the boy still panicked when faced with the threat of death, he could already take an enemy's life without a change in his expression, sentencing someone to death without blinking an eye.

Maturity is a good thing for a young king with a troubled fate.

After all, Viserys bore a heavy burden on his shoulders, carrying the responsibility of restoring his country and his family. He didn't even have the luxury of being kind to his enemies, as that would be cruel to himself.

However, Ser Joffrey was still afraid that Viserys would become a bloodthirsty tyrant in the future.

Just like his father, the "Mad King", few monarchs in history have been given such a title.

The young king was actually quite fortunate. In addition to leaving him a stunning amount of tangible wealth on Dragonstone, the Targaryen name had also accumulated a priceless intangible spiritual treasure for him.

Queen Rhaella, Maester Aemon, Master-at-Arms Ser Willem Darry at the Red Keep, and even the current Fleet Commander Ser Joffrey, among many others, remained loyal to the Targaryens...

These people would help and guide Viserys at critical moments, help him overcome difficulties, and prevent him from straying.

Viserys, standing in front of the seat, listened to the old knight's words and fell silent for a moment.

Although he deeply trusted the old man, he felt it was more appropriate to keep some things hidden in his heart for now.

He couldn't explain to Ser Joffrey the matters of the black mist and Valyrian text, and he couldn't explain them clearly at the moment.

After all, Viserys hadn't figured out what the black mist was or the unclear relationship between it and the Valyrian civilization.

However, there was one thing he knew for sure.

That was "it" needed life. It required Viserys to personally end lives, and there had to be a medium to connect them. Using long-range weapons like crossbows and indirectly killing enemies would not work.

Then it would draw something from the body of the person killed, turning it into black mist and merging it into the whole mass of black mist, which would be used to strengthen him.

"Ser."

After some hesitation, Viserys looked up and spoke again, having organized his thoughts.

"I don't want to personally execute a criminal, nor am I indulging in the thrill of killing."

Viserys looked at the old man in front of the map table, his beautiful pale purple eyes calm.

"Instead, I am seeking justice for Maester Aemon, and for the many innocent soldiers who lost their lives in this rebellion."

...

"They all died to protect me, and I must seek justice for them."

Viserys started his lie with some uncertainty, but as he continued, he grew more confident and even looked straight into the eyes of the old knight.

It wasn't that he was becoming better at lying, but rather that he accepted the reasoning he'd found for himself.

He ought to seek justice for those who had died innocent deaths.

Since the poisoning of the old maester a few months ago, the mercenaries from Essos who had infiltrated the castle, and the two guards who had just died at the gate, including the loyal guards who had never faltered by his side.

Viserys felt he should indeed do something.

Upon hearing Viserys' words, Ser Joffrey hesitated slightly. He could sense the falsehood in the young king's words, but the final conviction in his voice made him waver.

Queen Rhaella was dead, and the maester had died even earlier.

The old knight felt he should act as a 'strict father', and he absolutely couldn't let Viserys go down the wrong path.

Such a failure would not only be a betrayal of the Queen and the maester's trust but also of the prince he had once followed, Rhaegar Targaryen, the Duke of Dragonstone.

The Dragonstone fleet and the old knight still remained loyal to the Targaryen banner because of the prince's exceptional personal charisma.

Now, however, it seemed they had one more reason, at least for the old knight.

That reason was to nurture Viserys' growth.

The decisiveness, courage, wisdom, and remarkable progress shown by Rhaegar's younger brother since his acquaintance with the second prince inspired hope in Ser Joffrey.

The hope for a future where the Targaryens could regroup, lead an army across the sea to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, and trample Westeros beneath their feet.

"In that case..."

The old knight stood before the map table, looking at Viserys, and removed his helmet, which shimmered with a metallic luster and was speckled with blood.

Though nearing sixty, the old knight's muscles beneath his armor remained strong, and he had even personally killed a rebel just moments ago.

Ser Joffrey removed his helmet, revealing his grizzled head, and with a single hand holding the helmet against his chest plate, he nodded slightly.

"I am willing to perform this duty on your behalf, Your Grace."

After saluting, Ser Joffrey gestured to the soldiers to drag away the Dragonstone castellan, who was now barely breathing.

He ordered someone to treat the castellan and keep him alive, as they still needed the information from the Dornishman.

Then, he left without looking back.

Viserys, standing in front of the throne, watched the old knight's actions, hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. He wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to speak.

Once, the most pressing issue before Viserys was how to accept the 'legacy' left behind by his older brother Rhaegar.

For though he bore the Targaryen name, he was just an eight-year-old child.

His age alone made it difficult for him to gain respect and be taken seriously.

He wondered how he could persuade these soldiers who had once followed his brother to obey his commands.

But now, it seemed that this problem had been resolved.

Ser Joffrey had just expressed his willingness to support him.

...

Chapter 52: Hallucinogen

The next day, at noon.

A bright beam of sunlight shone through the window, casting a square patch of light on the floor, with a layer of fine dust floating above it.

The sound of waves crashing outside was ceaseless, pounding against the rocks as if they would never stop. The distant songs of fishermen could barely be heard within the castle walls. White seagulls flocked to the top of the castle, gazing far into the distance.

Everything had passed.

War, storms, rebellion.

Only in the crevices between the castle's stone slabs could one perceive the traces left behind by the fighting that occurred just before dawn.

The surviving soldiers and servants within the castle were busily cleaning up the residual bloodstains and human tissue from these crevices.

Splash—

The soldiers carried buckets of ice-cold water to wash away the traces, the water flowing down the stairs to the lower levels.

Then the servants rushed up, scrubbing vigorously with rags.

"Over here!"

"Make sure it's all cleaned up."

Old maid Sofia, who had fled from the Red Keep all the way to Dragonstone, took charge of the cleaning crew, directing the servants to clean the castle.

In the midst of this bustling cleanup, Viserys finally stirred from his bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes with one hand. His silver-gold hair was a bit disheveled, curling over and obscuring the boy's beautiful eyes.

"Hah…"

The boy sat up in bed, stretched his arms, and yawned.

"So sleepy."

Viserys wanted to go back to sleep, but unfortunately, Rhaenys wouldn't allow him to be so lazy.

Bang bang bang—

Viserys was just about to lie down when a loud knocking on the door jolted him awake, banishing any trace of drowsiness from his mind.

"Hey!"

"Viserys, time to get up, the sun's going to shine on your butt."

A sweet, clear voice of a girl came from outside the door. She had been moved to another location by Viserys the night before and hadn't experienced the fighting.

In truth, the attention of the traitors was focused on Viserys, the heir of House Targaryen.

He was a boy, and naturally a thorn in the side of Stannis Baratheon.

"Damn…"

Hearing the lively voice outside, Viserys felt a slight headache.

Rhaenys was lively and adorable, with a spirited personality. Though young, she already showed signs of becoming a cunning little devil. Without her mother's discipline, Rhaenys had become even more unbridled.

Viserys wouldn't interfere with her, and no one else in Dragonstone could control the young princess.

Viserys responded with a groan, then sat up in bed and methodically dressed in his intricate, ornate clothing.

Queen Rhaella had wanted to assign a maid to help Viserys dress and bathe, but he had refused.

He only wanted to live alone in his room, with the door locked from the inside. This gave Viserys a sense of security and allowed him to sleep more soundly.

Moreover, Viserys wasn't accustomed to others helping him dress, even if he was just an eight-year-old boy with a tiny, adorable "little thing" down there.

He still had a strong sense of privacy and refused to be seen by these old women.

And so, Viserys took care of his daily life on his own.

The boy stood before the silver-plated mirror, as a dark mist gradually spread. Viserys, however, remained unfazed, continuing to look at the mirror and straightening his collar.

This mysterious dark mist had accompanied Viserys for over half a year. From the initial fear, curiosity, and exploration, Viserys had grown accustomed to it, ignoring the mist while calmly adjusting his collar.

Still, the dark mist rolled slowly, its tendrils of smoke dissipating into the air, exuding an eerie, enigmatic aura. No one else could see the mist that appeared in Viserys' field of vision.

The boy's gaze left the mirror, and he turned to leave the bedroom. The dark mist behind him continued to roll and slowly dissipated on the spot.

"Hey, why did you wake up so late today?"

As soon as Viserys emerged, a little girl with brown hair pouted and complained, clinging to his arm.

Unaware of the events that transpired last night at Dragonstone, Rhaenys had no idea why Viserys had risen so late.

Viserys had only just finished handling all matters at the break of dawn, finding time to return to his room, remove his armor, and go to bed.

"Your Grace."

"Lord Joffrey is waiting for you in the hall."

A guard stationed outside greeted Viserys with a bow and informed him.

Upon seeing Viserys' attention shift, the guard glanced at Rhaenys and quietly added, "He said... there have been developments regarding last night's incident."

Viserys hesitated for a moment, then seemed to understand the meaning of the guard's words.

It was likely about the bastard captured last night; his lips had been pried open. Sir Joffrey believed he had obtained important information from the captive and had hurried to inform Viserys.

"Go to the map room."

Viserys came to his senses and handed Rhaenys over to the guard.

He didn't want the girl to be exposed to these matters prematurely, as the incident from half a year ago still haunted Rhaenys.

As her uncle, Viserys would naturally strive to spread his wings and protect Rhaenys' safety.

He then strode towards the map room.

...

Soon after.

Viserys arrived and saw the old knight who had been waiting for a while. He then learned of a shocking piece of news from the man.

"What?"

Hearing this, Viserys stood still, somewhat disbelieving.

"Sir, are you saying this despicable bastard once drugged my mother and me with a large amount of hallucinogens?"

Last night.

Sir Joffrey had brought Daevi Sand back to the camp like a dead dog, then suspended his life and interrogated him overnight.

The captive, having seemingly given up on surviving, spilled everything he knew.

The acting lord of Dragonstone had once bribed the cook to poison Queen Rhaella and Viserys' food with many hallucinogens.

This bastard hoped to silently kill the mother and son without drawing any attention.

With the 'Mad King' as a precedent, it wouldn't be far-fetched for the Targaryen bloodline to carry the gene for madness.

Queen Rhaella's subsequent condition was a clear indication that the hallucinogens had taken effect.

As for Viserys, even the traitor couldn't understand why.

He had even increased the dosage of the hallucinogens significantly, but Viserys had shown no signs of abnormality.

"I can't believe it..." .

Chapter 53: Execution

"Indeed."

The old knight wasn't clad in armor today; he merely wore a simple gray robe. His face was slightly somber, and he nodded in agreement.

"So it seems..."

Viserys paced before the throne, his gaze losing focus as confusion took hold.

He recalled the last time he saw his mother, Queen Rhaella. At that time, her mental state had already deteriorated significantly, plagued by hallucinations and fits of madness, shouting, getting angry, or bursting into tears for no apparent reason.

Viserys had thought that his mother's fragile mental state was due to her pregnancy, compounded by the various shocks she had recently experienced.

However, it now seemed likely that all of this was deliberately orchestrated.

"Mother... should not have died..."

"Is that so, Ser?"

Viserys abruptly stopped pacing and turned to address the old knight beside him.

Ser Joffrey's expression remained somber, not answering Viserys' question, as if silently confirming the truth.

Queen Rhaella shouldn't have died. Although she had suffered numerous blows, she remained strong.

She had endured countless abuses throughout her marriage to the Mad King, yet never succumbed to insanity. How could she suddenly break down and lose her sanity now?

Moreover, as Viserys tried to remember the events that were destined to happen according to the original timeline:

The real Viserys slowly became mentally unstable, prone to fits of rage and a twisted psyche. Even the usually mild-mannered Daenerys would eventually succumb to madness under extreme stress.

"So... that's how it is?"

Viserys stood in place, staring blankly at the sky and sea beyond the throne, lost in thought.

He should have realized it sooner.

But he hadn't.

Both Viserys and Queen Rhaella had been given hallucinogenic drugs, causing them to become mad and violent. It was possible that Daenerys, still in her mother's womb, had also been affected by the drugs.

But now...

Viserys, too, had been given a large dose of hallucinogens by the castellan of Dragonstone, yet he didn't display any signs of madness. He merely experienced occasional hallucinations.

For instance, the night before, as he sat in the great hall on the Conqueror's throne, gazing at the map of Westeros, he traced Aegon the First's path and reminisced about the stories the old maester had told him about the war.

In the end, he vaguely saw the shadow of the war in his mind, as if he were truly there, witnessing it all.

Looking back, it must have been the hallucinogens at work, trapping Viserys within his own fantasies.

However, it was also evident that the drugs had less of an impact on Viserys compared to his mother, Rhaella.

Viserys only experienced minor auditory and visual hallucinations and did not descend into the same state of mental instability his mother had suffered.

The old knight, standing by the throne, watched as Viserys stood motionless, lost in thought, and felt a pang of sympathy.

The situation was indeed cruel.

If Queen Rhaella had died from complications during childbirth, it might have been easier to accept. But she shouldn't have died.

She shouldn't have become what she did, but someone dishonored her, employing despicable means like poisoning a pregnant woman and a child, leading to such a tragic outcome.

The old knight's white hair fluttered in the wind as he took a deep breath.

The despicable usurper – he wished he could tear them to pieces.

But there was an even more pressing matter at hand...

"Your Grace."

The silence in the map room was palpable, until the old knight finally decided to break it after a long period of quiet.

"Perhaps you should have a healer examine your current condition."

There were no maesters left on Dragonstone, and common folk could not receive the care of a maester like the nobles and wealthy could. They usually had to rely on local healers, midwives, and their knowledge of herbs.

Medicine in Westeros was not particularly advanced.

This only made it all the more impressive that the old maester had managed to live to the age of eighty.

They could treat simple illnesses and injuries with herbal remedies, either taken internally or applied externally.

For sword wounds, they would resort to extreme methods of disinfection, such as boiling water, wildfire, or burning milk to clean the wound, with the latter two being applied directly to the injured area.

If a wound began to fester, maggots could be used to consume the rotting flesh before the injury was bandaged. If necessary, they could also suture wounds and apply a poultice made from mustard seed, nettle, and yeast to prevent infection.

However, these treatments had to be supplemented with poppy milk and sleeping potions to numb the pain and provide relief.

Physical methods of rendering a patient unconscious were only used in extreme cases and were generally avoided.

These remedies were all meant for treating illnesses and wounds, but for Viserys' current situation, there was only one other method...

Bloodletting.

Maesters and healers believed that to rid the body of poison, the toxic substance had to be removed from the bloodstream. Bloodletting was seen as a way to purge the toxins and allow fresh, clean blood to take its place.

Viserys' face twitched slightly as Ser Joffrey suggested this, as though recalling an unpleasant memory, but he decisively refused.

"There's no need, Ser."

"I feel quite well now and don't want to trouble a physician."

Without giving Ser Joffrey a chance to speak further, Viserys changed the subject.

"I believe you're aware."

"Only drunken fools, bastards, and women from the Free Cities resort to using poison as a weapon."

Viserys stared intently into Ser Joffrey's eyes, a burning anger visible in his pale violet orbs. The old knight found himself inexplicably unsettled by this gaze.

"Likewise."

"I know you think that a just king should not misuse punishment, even if the accused has been deemed guilty by the Seven."

"However, I don't want you to interfere with what I'm about to do next..."

Viserys brushed past the old knight, striding purposefully from his seat.

His left hand gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist, while his right hand drew a short blade that was just slightly longer than a dagger.

"Because there's something I must do personally."

The sharp short sword gleamed menacingly, and Viserys held the hilt tightly, his expression as cold and unyielding as ice.

"Uh-uh-uh—"

The bound bastard on the ground watched in horror as the silver-haired boy approached with determined steps.

Fear filled his eyes. .

Chapter 54: Braavos

Viserys personally ended the life of this bastard.

Blood spilled onto the ground, filling the round hall with a pungent, metallic scent. A few guards averted their eyes, unable to bear the sight.

Then, at a silent signal from Ser Joffrey, two guards pinched their noses and stepped forward to drag the body away.

A long trail of blood followed the corpse, as servants approached with buckets of water to wash away the stains.

After avenging his mother by killing the man himself, Viserys took a deep breath. A shadowy mist was silently absorbed into his body, unnoticed by the others.

He then turned around.

An old maidservant stood by a stone pillar, watching the scene unfold. It was amusing how the soldiers were repelled by the sight, unwilling to look, while this woman witnessed it all.

It was because this man had killed Queen Rhaella, the once kind-hearted and lively girl.

Now, it was simply a matter of blood for blood.

The old woman in a gray robe and square kerchief spat fiercely. Seeing Viserys turn towards her, she quickly pulled out a clean handkerchief from her sleeve and approached.

"Your Grace."

Viserys tilted his head slightly, looking at the old maidservant who had followed them from the Red Keep. She had endured countless hardships.

"Thank you, Sofia."

Viserys nodded gently, then took the handkerchief from Sofia's sleeve to wipe the blood from his hands.

At that moment, a guard entered from outside and whispered something into Viserys's ear.

"What?"

Hearing the guard's words, Viserys's face clearly displayed astonishment.

He returned the bloodied handkerchief to the old maidservant and turned to the guard beside him, asking seriously once more.

"You mean... a merchant ship from Braavos has arrived, and there's a person claiming to be an envoy from Braavos seeking an audience?"

The guard heard Viserys repeat the question and hurriedly nodded.

"Yes."

"This..."

The young king's expression became slightly strange.

"Braavos..."

Of course, he knew where Braavos was - the most unique and powerful of the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea, often called the "Secret City" or "Valyria's Bastard Daughter." It was composed of a series of islands in the far northwest of Essos, right at the intersection of the Narrow Sea and the Shivering Sea.

He wasn't surprised that a Braavosi merchant ship was docked here. After all, Dragonstone Island blocked the entrance to Blackwater Bay, so Free City merchant ships wanting to trade with King's Landing had to pass through here.

In fact, the Targaryen fleet hadn't completely blockaded Blackwater Bay because doing so would have only caused insignificant damage to King's Landing while drawing numerous enemies to the Targaryens.

However...

He found it strange that Braavos would suddenly send an envoy for a visit. ...

Dragonstone Island and Braavos were separated by the Narrow Sea, a distance that could be described as vast and remote, and there had been no previous connection between the two. So why would they suddenly send an emissary?

Could it be a fraud...

This thought crossed Viserys's mind.

It wasn't that the boy was inherently suspicious, but recent events had left him somewhat paranoid, seeing everyone as a potential liar, traitor, or assassin.

"Why not let him in and hear what this emissary from Braavos has to say?" Viserys suggested.

"Your Grace."

Sir Joffrey, who was standing beside the main seat in the map room, suddenly spoke up.

He had just overheard Viserys's conversation with the guard and knew that an emissary from Braavos had arrived. He was also curious about the other party's purpose for coming.

After hesitating for a moment, Viserys eventually nodded.

"Very well, bring him in."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The guard agreed and left.

Viserys then led everyone down from the Stone Drum Tower to the great hall on the lowest floor.

This was the place where important guests were received. Viserys attached great importance to the emissary from Braavos. The silver-haired boy now sat on the cold stone throne, with sunlight streaming in from both sides, illuminating the dust.

The young king adjusted his clothes and put on the crown his mother, Queen Rhaella, had given him during his coronation.

The crown, made of pure gold and adorned with a huge red gemstone, reflected a burning glow in the sunlight, like a ball of fire burning above the boy's brow.

Commander of the Dragonstone fleet, Sir Joffrey, sat beside the throne, his hands resting on his knees, his white hair slightly disheveled, waiting quietly for the arrival of the Braavosi emissary.

It didn't take long.

Boom!

The doors to the Great Hall of Dragonstone were pushed open by the guards.

The young king's pale purple eyes looked towards the entrance as the guards stepped aside, revealing the person behind them.

A middle-aged man dressed in a gray-brown coat, wearing deer leather boots and holding a string of wooden beads, stood before them. He had a square face and dark hair.

Behind the man in the gray-brown robe was a young swordsman dressed in black, with a narrow and slender sword at his waist.

His hair was messy, giving him a somewhat unkempt appearance, but his eyes were incredibly sharp, as if they could penetrate one's heart.

"In Braavos, only assassins wear flashy clothes," the old knight sitting beside Viserys whispered into his ear as he looked at the two newcomers.

Sir Joffrey had once wandered the world, having left his family and homeland because of a murder. He had been to Essos, where he had been a mercenary, a sailor, and even a waiter at a tavern.

He had also wandered Braavos and was familiar with the customs there.

"The truly wealthy and powerful swordsmen, Faceless Men, usually wear black and dark clothes. Braavosi officials, key keepers, and judges often wear plain gray-brown coats."

Viserys listened to the old knight's whispered words and nodded silently, still looking at the two people standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The emissary from Braavos at the foot of the stairs also looked up at the young king seated on the throne.

He then bowed slightly and took the initiative to speak.

"Your Grace."

Chapter 55: The Handwritten Letter

Yet Viserys did not hurry to speak as he sat on the cold throne.

The boy's crown, adorned with ruby flames, reflected a faint shimmer of light. His pale lilac eyes continued to observe the two people standing below.

A subtle silence permeated the great hall.

The Dragonstone guards on both sides tightly gripped their spears, their gazes locked on the two individuals in the middle of the hall claiming to be emissaries from Braavos. At Viserys' command, they would rush forward and capture them on the spot.

In their eyes, emissaries should be dressed in splendid attire, not like the two before them.

One wore a simple, dull grayish-brown robe, while the other was dressed like an assassin in black, complete with a cloak, and a thin, small "lady's longsword" at the waist – a toy of sorts.

Such unique weaponry was considered impractical by the soldiers of Westeros.

At the center of the great hall,

The two individuals, scrutinized by all, remained calm. The emissary in the grayish-brown robe appeared composed, his eyes still fixed on Viserys, while the warrior behind him kept one hand on the hilt of his sword.

The atmosphere in the hall thickened.

Viserys did not speak; he was observing the pair, gauging their identity, hoping to detect any inconsistencies.

However, it wasn't long before the emissary from Braavos broke first. He couldn't understand why he felt such pressure while staring at the exiled king who had lost the Iron Throne – a mere eight-year-old boy.

"Your Grace."

The middle-aged man in the grayish-brown robe couldn't help but bow again slightly, taking the initiative to speak.

"We come from Braavos, under the orders of the Sea Lord himself to visit Your Grace and deliver a handwritten letter from the Sea Lord."

The accent and word choice of the Braavosi emissary were slightly peculiar, making it difficult for the audience to understand.

But Viserys remained unruffled, his eyes piercing the man.

"A handwritten letter?"

Hearing that the emissary was delivering a letter from the Sea Lord of Braavos, Viserys finally began to believe their identity. Still, he would have to read the letter before making a final judgment.

However, he had more to say before examining the handwritten letter.

Viserys sat on the throne, one hand caressing the cold armrest, leaning forward to adjust his posture. The crown atop his head shone in the sunlight as he spoke.

"You may speak in Valyrian directly."

"I understand."

He knew that although Braavos was not a Free City of Valyria, it was a city-state founded by refugees fleeing Valyrian slavery about five hundred years before Aegon's Landing. Thus, their mother tongue was Valyrian as well.

As the heir to House Targaryen, Viserys was, of course, well-versed in Valyrian. There was no need for the two "old acquaintances" to speak the Common Tongue of Westeros.

Furthermore, the Braavosi emissary's Common Tongue was quite awkward, making it uncomfortable for Viserys to listen to.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I have been rude."

Upon hearing Viserys speak fluent Valyrian, the emissary from Braavos was both surprised and delighted.

Thrilled that he no longer needed to speak in the obscure Westerosi Common Tongue.

Yet alarmed as he didn't know if Viserys had heard him when he quietly complained to the swordsman beside him.

Otherwise, there was a high chance of being executed, and even if word got back to the Sea King, it would be his own fault.

He thought that the Targaryen family, having conquered Westeros nearly three centuries ago, had long abandoned the Valyrian language in favor of the Westerosi Common Tongue. After all, even Aegon the Conqueror converted to the Faith of the Seven after the conquest.

However, the truth was that this envoy had never met any Targaryen family members and was rather uninformed. The Targaryens had not given up the Valyrian language.

But Viserys hadn't actually heard him mutter something just now, as the throne was so far from the ground, and his ears weren't exactly keen.

The boy watched as the two envoys continued to speak.

"Tell me your names," he said.

Upon hearing Viserys' words, the lead envoy in a gray-brown robe straightened up slightly and bowed again.

"Your Grace, my name is Cleon Mysna. I am a magistrate of Braavos."

The magistrate was mainly responsible for conveying the Sea King's orders and managing the city of Braavos, essentially serving as the Sea King's assistant in governance.

Cleon then turned to introduce the swordsman beside him.

"His name is Syrio Forel. He is the Sea King's personal guard and serves as the First Sword of Braavos."

The black-robed swordsman standing behind Cleon also bowed slightly when introduced and spoke for the first time.

"Your Grace."

Viserys felt a faint sense of familiarity when he heard the name of the swordsman in black.

"Syrio Forel?"

He had a feeling he had heard the name somewhere but couldn't recall it at the moment.

Ser Joffrey, sitting next to him, thought Viserys might not know what the position of First Sword entailed and whispered an explanation in his ear.

"Your Grace, I've heard of this man."

"Syrio Forel, as the First Sword of Braavos, is considered the finest swordsman in Braavos at present."

"These people... they possess extraordinary insight, and their primary duty is to protect the Sea King's safety."

Viserys nodded slightly after hearing this, although he didn't need the old knight to remind him. He seemed to remember who this person was.

At that moment,

Cleon reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter, holding it respectfully with both hands. He then spoke again.

"This is a personal letter from the Sea King to Your Grace."

A guard standing to one side of the hall approached and took the letter from the envoy. After inspecting it for poison or tampering, he brought it to the throne and handed it to Viserys.

Viserys took the Sea King of Braavos' personal letter from the guard's hand.

He was curious about what the Sea King, who had never meddled in his affairs, wanted to discuss with him.

With a rustle,

The boy tore open the letter in his hand. .

Chapter 56: Relatives by Marriage

Viserys tore open the envelope, extracting the letter inside and unfolding it to read.

Ferrego Antaryon is the current Sealord of Braavos.

The Sealord of Braavos rules the free trading city-state of Braavos, and his personal guard is known as the First Swordsman of Braavos. The slightly disheveled Syrio Forel standing below is the one occupying this important position.

The current Sealord, Ferrego Antaryon, resides within the Sealord's Palace in the city.

The title of Sealord is not hereditary. When the previous Sealord dies, the new one is chosen by the keyholders and magisters of Braavos through a mysterious and perplexing process from among all the citizens.

Once chosen, the Sealord serves for life until death.

The letter in Viserys' hands is a personal one from Ferrego Antaryon.

The contents of the letter are not very long and convey a simple purpose.

Moreover, Viserys could tell that the letter seemed a bit 'outdated.'

Ferrego Antaryon had written it before Viserys and the Targaryen fleet set out to conquer Storm's End.

After all, Braavos is quite far from Dragonstone. By the time the Sealord received news of the naval battle, it was already too late to take back the letter.

And this letter was not written for Viserys, but in his name.

After his coronation, Viserys was in some sense a wandering king with a claim to the Iron Throne. His bloodline was pure, and his claim was legally impeccable.

In reality, the letter was meant for his mother, Queen Rhaella.

In the letter, the Sealord of Braavos urged Rhaella to take Viserys and abandon Dragonstone, to come and live in Braavos.

Braavos would actively protect and shelter the descendants of the Dragon King, essentially offering them 'political asylum' in more refined terms.

At the same time, the Sealord hinted in the letter that he might consider supporting the Targaryens' 'rightful claim' to the Iron Throne of Westeros at 'certain critical moments.'

The entire letter was written in High Valyrian, showing that the Sealord had more accurate information than the messenger.

However, Viserys read the whole letter without changing his expression, seeing through the flattery.

Braavos might indeed need the poor widowed mother and her son, but certainly not for the reasons of 'justice' and 'legality' written in the letter.

The first Hand of the King after the Conquest, Orys Baratheon, was rumored to be the illegitimate half-brother of Aegon I, sharing Targaryen blood.

However, these were only rumors, without solid evidence, and a bastard did not have legal inheritance rights.

The legal basis for Robert Baratheon's ascension to the Iron Throne was his grandmother's bloodline.

Robert's grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen, the daughter of Aegon V. Thus, as a 'relative' of the Targaryens, Robert was eligible to ascend the Iron Throne.

Robert's claim was more legitimate than that of the members of House Arryn, House Tully, or House Stark.

Viserys paid no attention to the nonsense in the letter, but he did notice a person subtly mentioned at the end.

In the letter, Ferrego Antaryon invited Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys to Braavos, where he would secretly arrange for a mysterious person to meet with Rhaella and Viserys.

The identity specified was a term in High Valyrian similar to 'relatives by marriage,' indicating a 'female relative from the bride's side.'

Viserys' High Valyrian was adequate for everyday conversation, but after leaving the Red Keep, the absence of a suitable environment for practice made his language skills somewhat rusty.

Viserys carefully pondered the meaning of the Sealord's words, reading them over and over again, feeling as if he had gained some understanding.

It was because he had been viewing the letter from a different perspective, always putting himself at the center of it, that he hadn't grasped its true meaning at first.

But now that he had awakened to the true intent, it became much clearer when he looked at the letter from Queen Rhaella's perspective.

Queen Rhaella's 'relatives by marriage'?

Queen Rhaella had three children, Viserys and Daenerys, one still a child and the other just an infant. Only her eldest son, Rhaegar, was already married.

Though many chaotic events followed, the relatives by marriage couldn't possibly refer to the Stark family of the North.

"Dorne."

Viserys' expression slightly cleared, and the furrow in his brow relaxed a bit.

"Dorne wants to contact my mother?"

Viserys knew that the Iron Throne was currently negotiating with Dorne. In fact, due to his father Aerys and brother Rhaegar's actions, Dorne had already distanced itself from House Targaryen.

But at this critical moment, Dorne contacted Braavos to play the role of a mediator.

And for some reason, Braavos agreed to secretly arrange a meeting between Dorne and House Targaryen.

"But...didn't their Iron Bank already loan money to the Iron Throne during this time?"

"Aren't they afraid they won't get their money back?

Or...

Do they want to use this situation to manipulate the war and make the Iron Throne owe them even more money?

Viserys carefully considered the entire situation.

Alternatively,

Braavos simply didn't want the Seven Kingdoms across the Narrow Sea to unite once more and wanted to cause them a bit of trouble.

"This has become quite delicate."

Viserys' brow relaxed, and he fell into deep thought, holding the letter in his hand.

He wasn't sure how far the negotiations between Dorne and the Iron Throne had progressed.

He was even more unsure about Dorne's true attitude, whether they genuinely wanted to reconcile with the Iron Throne or were merely pretending.

And whether it was Prince Doran's idea for Dorne to contact House Targaryen or just a secret move by a faction within House Martell that was dissatisfied with the negotiations.

He knew nothing about it.

Viserys could understand Dorne's caution. After all, they were in negotiations with the Iron Throne. If they sent a ship directly to Dragonstone, there would be no need for negotiations, and Westeros would erupt into war once again.

However...

The letter implied something more than just that.

If Viserys understood correctly, the letter's meaning was for Queen Rhaella to bring him to Braavos to meet with representatives from Dorne.

It specifically pointed out that House Targaryen and House Martell were still related.

Then it used an even closer term, indicating a 'female relative from the bride's side.'

Viserys held the letter in his hand, suddenly feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Does...House Martell have any daughters left?"

"They couldn't be targeting me again, could they?"

Chapter 57: The Hand of the King

Viserys held the letter from the Sea Lord of Braavos in his hand, falling silent as he read its contents.

The entire throne room was quiet as a tomb.

Everyone looked at the young king seated on the Iron Throne, not knowing what was written in the letter. Its contents were highly confidential, but judging by Viserys's expression, they could sense his dilemma.

Without speaking, Viserys handed the letter to Ser Joffrey, who stood beside him.

As the commander of the fleet, Viserys had no reason to doubt Ser Joffrey. After all, without him, both Viserys and his mother would have been dead long ago.

Even if they had followed their original trajectory and Queen Rhaella had escaped with Viserys to Dragonstone, the presence of a fleet would have deterred any plot against them.

Though Viserys was unaware of the specifics surrounding the destruction of the Targaryen fleet during the storm, he assumed it might have involved bastards or other factions attempting to hand him and his sister over to the Baratheons, or something else entirely.

With Ser William's help, they eventually escaped to Essos and began their long exile.

Thus, Viserys unconditionally trusted the old knight and his mentor.

If he needed to create a Hand of the King badge at this moment, Viserys would probably award it directly to Ser Joffrey.

The white-haired old knight accepted the letter without hesitation, carefully reading it.

Viserys's gaze returned to the two Braavosi envoys.

"Truth be told, my mother, Dowager Queen Rhaella Targaryen, has passed away."

Viserys stood up from the cold stone throne as sunlight streamed in from both sides of the hall, creating dusty beams of light that fell upon the floor.

"Your Grace, please accept our condolences."

As the Braavosi envoy, Magister Kleris, once again offered his respects to Viserys, expressing his condolences. They had already heard the news when they disembarked.

"Please allow us to pay our respects to the late Queen before we leave Dragonstone."

Viserys waved his hand dismissively, knowing that these were merely formalities from the envoys.

They were not even aware that the Targaryens still spoke Valyrian, so their knowledge of his mother, Queen Rhaella, probably extended only to her name.

"Envoy, please stay on Dragonstone a little longer."

"As for the contents of Lord Ferrego Antaryon's letter, I need some time to consider."

What Viserys hesitated over was this very matter. Upon receiving the letter, he was certain that the envoys were indeed from Braavos.

However, he wavered over whether to accept the invitation to Braavos.

Despite foiling several Iron Throne conspiracies and winning an impressive victory alongside the fleet in Shipbreaker Bay, boosting morale, the balance of power between the Targaryens and the Baratheons remained significantly in the latter's favor.

It was as if the enemy had ten fingers, and Viserys had only managed to break one by seizing an opportunity. If they clenched their fists, they could easily crush him on Dragonstone.

After all, Dragonstone was too close to Westeros, practically within arm's reach.

Viserys felt no sense of security on Dragonstone, even though he knew that King Robert had no ships left. He was still afraid that one day he would wake up to find Dragonstone surrounded by a seemingly endless fleet.

Thus, Viserys had been pondering how to abandon Dragonstone, leading his people and fleet eastward, across the Narrow Sea to the safety of the eastern continent.

Having found a foothold and focusing on their development, Viserys knew that he and his sister would be safe, and they wouldn't have to live a life of constant upheaval.

Previously, Viserys had no idea how to approach this issue. After all, as the old knight had said, the Free Cities seemed loose but were resistant to foreign invasions.

Viserys dared not lead his fleet to invade the continent of Essos, as that would be tantamount to cutting off his own retreat.

But now, the letter from the Sealord of Braavos brought him another possibility.

Viserys was somewhat indecisive.

The idea was excellent and daring, but it also carried considerable risk.

If Braavos harbored ill intentions, they could easily bind him and send him to King's Landing in exchange for a handsome reward.

However, Viserys believed that he, as a living person who could cause trouble for the Iron Throne, was far more important than any insignificant reward for the Iron Bank.

So when Viserys was hesitating internally, he already had an answer in mind.

He just needed someone to support his decision, giving him the courage to stand firm in his beliefs.

This was akin to a gamble and a game of strategy.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons Maester Danyel thought Viserys was superior to Prince Rhaegar.

He would attempt self-redemption in dire situations, never giving up, and always proposing ideas that caught others off guard.

...

"Let's follow His Majesty's arrangement."

The two envoys from Braavos naturally had no objections to Viserys's plans.

After all, this was a secret negotiation between the Targaryen king and their Sealord. They were just messengers, with the overall situation as their priority.

Viserys gave a slight wave of his hand, and guards led the two envoys out to rest temporarily in the castle, as they needed to discuss this matter further.

When the envoys left, Ser Joffrey, who sat beside the throne, finished reading the Sealord's letter.

Like Viserys, the old man was deep in thought.

After a long pause, the old knight raised his head, about to say something but hesitated as he looked at Viserys.

The young king, having experienced much of the world, understood the old man's intentions.

He waved his hand again, dismissing the guards around him.

Soon, only the two of them remained in the hall. Viserys turned his head.

"Perhaps I should forge a 'Hand of the King' badge for you, Ser Joffrey."

The silver-haired boy, wearing a gold crown adorned with rubies, appeared taller in the slanting sunlight. His pale violet eyes sparkled as he spoke teasingly.

The old knight was about to say something but was interrupted by Viserys, a bitter smile appearing on his face.

"I'm not suited to be the Hand of the King, in terms of talent or character."

Chapter 58: Decision

Sir Joffrey wore a bitter smile as he spoke sarcastically, then his expression turned serious, and he spoke earnestly.

"But, Your Grace."

"This is indeed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

The white-haired old man sat in his chair, holding the letter as he looked at Viserys standing in the spacious hall.

"As you have said before, Dragonstone has no resources, no population."

"Our presence here now is solely due to the defeat of the usurper's newly built navy."

The king sitting on the Iron Throne in King's Landing would like nothing more than to tear Viserys to pieces, but he could only rage impotently.

Without ships, even a vast army cannot swim across the sea. Robert Baratheon, though fearless on land, could not find his footing on a ship and would even get seasick, like a clumsy bear.

Naval and land battles are entirely different systems.

"However..."

"We cannot just sit and wait for death."

After all, the continent of Westeros is rich in resources and abundant in population. Not to mention the fertile Crownlands, King's Landing alone is a city of more than half a million people. The filth produced daily makes the city reek.

The Iron Throne's potential for waging war is not something a small Dragonstone can rival.

Although it has been hit this time, in just a few years, the Iron Throne will be able to raise a large sum of money and build another fleet.

The Dragonstone fleet, on the other hand, not only has old ships but also loses one every time one is damaged.

After all, there are hardly any trees on the barren Dragonstone; even repairing ships is troublesome and requires buying materials from the eastern continent.

Fortunately, the Targaryens accumulated nearly three centuries of astonishing wealth on Dragonstone, enough to support Viserys's extravagance.

Even so, Viserys has begun to economize, saving every gold dragon he can and anticipating a crisis.

"But..."

At this point, the old man hesitated slightly as well.

He shared Viserys's concerns about whether Braavos would honor their word.

If they were to bind Viserys and deliver him to King's Landing, would this trip not be like walking into the lion's den?

Viserys stood before the throne in silence, with only the faint sound of the young king's heavy breathing after the old lord hesitated.

The golden crown above his head glittered, and the small hand beneath his robe clenched slightly, pursing his cracked lips.

This decision was difficult for Viserys because it involved considerable risk.

"I understand your concerns, Ser."

After a long silence,

Viserys finally raised his head and spoke, the fiery red gemstone burning like a blazing flame, symbolizing the boy's heart and blood also aflame.

The boy's melodious voice echoed through the silent hall like a clear spring.

"But we have no choice at the moment, do we?"

"We can't stay on Dragonstone and wait to die."

"And such an opportunity, if missed, may never come again."

Viserys seemed to have made up his mind, and making this decision was somewhat difficult for him.

But his calm mind told him that this was the most advantageous course of action.

Not just because of the foresight advantage, but also because, according to the original trajectory, no one on the eastern continent would persecute Viserys.

.

Even the Targaryen siblings had once been fostered among the noble families of Braavos and Pentos.

However, Viserys had to consider that the situation had changed from the original course of events.

The Targaryen fleet hadn't sunk in a storm, Dragonstone hadn't fallen to betrayal, and he and his sister hadn't escaped to the eastern continent under the protection of Ser Willem.

Their current situation was much better than the original course, but Viserys always had a deep sense of anxiety.

Despite making small strides, true breakthroughs were still far away.

"Child..."

Upon hearing Viserys' words, the old knight seemed slightly lost in thought.

As if he could see the courageous, silver-haired youth with a strong charisma in every movement.

His greatest charm was the ability to influence those around him, keeping their hearts tightly connected to him.

"In truth, I'm afraid of death."

Viserys interrupted the old knight's words, turning his gaze towards the direction of the great hall doors as he continued to speak.

"I'm more afraid of death than anyone."

Viserys wanted to say that it was because he had already died once, and that experience had been terrible, so he didn't want to go through it again.

But as the words reached his lips, his brain's strong survival instinct muffled them, preventing him from speaking.

"Yet in this matter, no one can take my place."

He had to personally travel to Braavos and meet with his Dornish relatives.

More importantly, he needed to meet the Sea Lord of Braavos, as it was necessary for Viserys to achieve his goals.

"And I believe that a living me, posing a threat to the Iron Throne, would be more valuable to Braavos."

It was highly unlikely that Braavos would choose a shortsighted path, but this was still a gamble.

Even if the danger was only ten percent, it meant there was still risk.

"I... should go."

Viserys hesitated for a moment, but exhaled softly and spoke.

"Then I shall accompany Your Grace."

The old knight actually supported Viserys' decision and stood up decisively in response.

He admired the boy's courage – this was, after all, just an eight-year-old child.

If placed in an ordinary family, a child might be scared to tears just being in a strange environment.

But Viserys had already weathered many storms and had the courage to leave the protection of his companions and venture alone to Braavos.

"There's no need."

However, Ser Joffrey's request was refused by Viserys after a moment of contemplation.

"If Braavos truly has ill intentions... Ser Joffrey, your presence alone wouldn't change the situation."

Viserys sighed and continued to speak.

"It's better for me to go alone, and keep my movements hidden."

"If something unexpected does happen..."

Viserys wasn't as calm as he appeared, but his brain clearly told him this was a good opportunity, and he mustered the courage to make this decision.

In the current situation, breaking through required a do-or-die spirit.

Otherwise, even if they survived on Dragonstone for a few more years, it wouldn't change the ultimate outcome.

"I hope you…"

Viserys hesitated slightly at this point because the next words were crucial.

It concerned who he would appoint as his lawful heir.

Rhaenys.

Or Daenerys.

Chapter 59: The Heir

Viserys hesitated slightly as he spoke the last sentence.

"If something unexpected were to happen..."

A vision of a little girl with brown hair appeared in the silver-haired boy's mind – it was Rhaenys Targaryen, who always liked to cling to him.

Although Rhaenys was still just a child, it was evident that she was a beauty in the making, destined to become a stunning woman who would captivate the Seven Kingdoms.

"Hey! Viserys!"

Now, Rhaenys' sweet smile that could melt hearts flashed through Viserys' mind.

Due to their close age difference or perhaps some other reason, Rhaenys didn't like to address him formally.

Instead, she always liked to call him 'big brother' repeatedly or just casually use his name without any respect for seniority.

Then, following that thought, Viserys' mind pictured the baby girl wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Daenerys Targaryen.

When the siblings first met, Viserys gently held Daenerys' little hand, feeling a strong sense of kinship through their shared bloodline, a bond that could never be severed.

"This..."

Viserys hesitated once more, unable to make an immediate decision.

The old man knew the profound significance of such a decision and did not interrupt Viserys' thoughts.

After a long silence, the boy eventually made his choice, raising his head and speaking earnestly.

"If something unexpected were to happen to me..."

"Please continue to assist and help my sister, Daenerys Targaryen, ascend the Iron Throne, Ser Joffrey."

No one knew what Viserys had been thinking during that moment of silence.

Why he made such a decision and what his basis was for it.

Viserys' words now carried great weight, essentially designating a future heir.

That heir would be his sister, Daenerys Targaryen.

Although Viserys was only eight years old, his position in the game of power meant that no one would show him mercy simply because he was a child.

Just as the king sitting on the Iron Throne in King's Landing had already begun using any means necessary to eliminate him, Viserys had to tread carefully even in Dragonstone, striving to survive.

Therefore, Viserys had to make this decision early on, even if it sounded cruel, as if he were settling his affairs in advance.

"Choosing the younger one, huh?"

Ser Joffrey was somewhat surprised upon hearing Viserys' decision.

Princess Daenerys was indeed very young, still just an infant in swaddling clothes, and without a mother, it was uncertain if she would even survive infancy.

He hadn't expected Viserys to choose the younger girl.

In the old knight's view, Viserys and Princess Rhaenys had a seemingly closer relationship.

The two children were not only close in age but also had compatible personalities.

At times, Viserys would be visibly worried about certain matters, but when he saw Rhaenys, he would try to smile, even if it looked a bit forced.

However,

Daenerys was, after all, his sister, and the Targaryen bloodline was purer in her.

It was understandable that Viserys would make such a decision, considering that Rhaenys had more than half of the Dornish bloodline, making her Targaryen lineage less pure.

"I understand."

Ser Joffrey finally nodded, comprehending Viserys' intentions, and designated Daenerys as his heir.

If anything were to happen to Viserys on this journey to Braavos, then the infant Daenerys would become the new Lady of Dragonstone.

"Then it is settled."

Having made his decision, Viserys no longer hesitated.

He called the guards outside to bring the two Braavosi envoys, who had just been sent to rest, back to him.

In reality, the city official and the First Swordsman hadn't gone far. They had been arranged to rest in a small room outside the great hall, waiting for Viserys and his 'council' to finish deliberating.

They thought it might take a long time to reach a decision.

And they didn't have high expectations that Viserys would accept the Sea Lord's invitation.

After all, the current head of House Targaryen was only an eight-year-old boy, perhaps still prone to crying if he fell.

If Queen Rhaella were still alive and lucid, she might have accepted the invitation to go to Braavos.

However, the queen had now become the dowager queen and had been buried, which caught them off guard.

To their surprise, they received word before they had even warmed their seats in the adjacent room.

...

The two envoys hastily returned.

Viserys sat on the throne in the great hall, his small body in the massive seat creating a strong sense of incongruity.

The boy wore a crown of pure gold, with a ruby resembling flames at its center, and placed his hands on the armrests of the throne.

Then, with a clear, calm voice, the young king informed them that he had accepted the Sea Lord of Braavos' invitation and would soon embark on a journey to Braavos to meet with the Sea Lord.

His voice echoed through the silent hall.

The two Braavosi envoys exchanged glances, disbelief in their eyes.

They hadn't expected the child to have the courage to agree to accompany them to a distant, unfamiliar city all by himself.

However, after Viserys spoke, Ser Joffrey stood up and demanded that the Braavosi side respect the ancient Westerosi tradition of 'guest right,' ensuring the young King Viserys' safety.

Guest right was a traditional rule observed by all Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, stating that neither commoners nor nobles could harm their guests once they had accepted the host's bread and salt, thus activating guest right. Violators would offend the sacred laws, believed to be intolerable to both the old and new gods. This held true in the teachings of both the Old Gods and the Faith of the Seven.

"Of course, Your Grace."

"There are temples to the Seven Gods and the Old Gods of the Seven Kingdoms on the Isle of the Gods in Braavos."

Cleos, the chief Braavosi envoy, bowed slightly once more, solemnly promising,

"Braavos values its reputation above all, as it is as important as our lives."

"Since we have invited you, we will protect you throughout the entire journey, from the moment you leave Dragonstone until you safely return."

Chapter 60: Departure

...

After meeting with the envoy from Braavos at Dragonstone, a few days passed.

During this time, Viserys arranged for the subsequent affairs on Dragonstone.

Then, after dressing up, his silver-gold hair was dyed blue, and his usually enviable appearance was made more modest, no longer as eye-catching.

However, his purple eyes could not be concealed, still carrying a calmness and steadiness that was the opposite of what one would expect from a boy. Within those eyes was a breathtaking beauty, like a pale purple gemstone.

Hidden deep within his eyes were complex runes unseen by ordinary people. Looking into the eyes of this boy, one would feel an intangible pressure.

This was a fear that originated from the soul, regardless of how strong his body might be.

A small change brought about by Viserys' mental power surpassing that of ordinary people and reaching another realm.

If one were to only see Viserys as he was now, they might simply admire him as a beautiful boy. However, after making eye contact, their thoughts would be completely overturned.

A boy from an ordinary wealthy family would not possess such an intangible aura, which seemed to radiate from within.

Viserys was not traveling alone; he was accompanied by two carefully selected guards who would protect the young king's safety along the way.

The master-at-arms had originally wanted to personally escort Viserys to Braavos.

However, his body was weak, and his old injuries had been acting up, even causing a minor illness. In the end, Viserys reluctantly asked him to stay on Dragonstone to recover.

In this era of subpar medical care, the injury that had pierced his ribs and the lack of timely treatment, which had dragged on for a day and a night, had left the knight with a stubborn ailment.

The once robust body had rapidly withered away in less than a year, and even his former armor seemed somewhat oversized.

Viserys couldn't bear to have the master-at-arms follow him on another long journey, so he insisted that he stay on Dragonstone.

Soon after,

Under the arrangement of the Braavosi envoy, Viserys discreetly boarded a merchant ship returning to Braavos from King's Landing.

He left Dragonstone for the distant and mysterious Braavos.

...

Splash—

The massive double-masted oar-driven merchant ship sailed through the waves on the open sea.

Waves continually crashed against the colossal hull, yet it felt like a gentle breeze, not shaking the ship's steadfast progress in the slightest.

At this moment, the young king sat quietly by the cabin window, gazing at the turbulent sea in the distance, feeling a slight sense of envy.

Braavos was truly the center of world trade, possessing countless riches.

Even a random merchant ship had a tonnage second only to the Targaryen fleet's flagship, the Black Dread. It was clear that with some modifications, such as adding a ram and weapons, this merchant ship could be transformed into a warship at any moment.

Not long ago, Viserys had personally accompanied Ser Joffrey on an expedition to Storm's End, destroying the Baratheon fleet in Shipbreaker Bay.

At that time, Viserys had closely followed the old knight, learning and asking many questions. As a result, he had some understanding of naval warfare, at least enough not to be completely unfamiliar.

Viserys could see the terrifying war potential of this massive city-state, the leader of the Nine Free Cities.

If war were to truly break out, Braavos might be able to assemble an invincible fleet of hundreds of double-masted oar-driven warships in a short time.

In other city-states, their fleets used longships and small sailboats as vanguard units to protect the main ships. However, their main ships were merely ordinary vessels compared to those of Braavos.

The invincible fleet of Braavos could easily blockade an enemy's maritime trade supply routes, significantly reducing their war capabilities.

However, the invincible fleet's deterrent effect on the nobility of Westeros was not particularly significant.

No matter how massive the invincible fleet's scale, it could not surround the entire continent of Westeros.

Furthermore, the great nobles would not overly rely on trade, as a small-scale agricultural economy could be entirely self-sufficient. Cutting off sea routes would only inflict minor losses on them, not enough to cripple them.

This was evident in the usurper's war when the Targaryen royal fleet could not be utilized effectively.

What truly concerned the Seven Kingdoms and even the Iron Throne was another weapon wielded by Braavos.

That weapon was gold.

The staggering wealth of the Iron Bank could make the throne under a king's posterior bristle with thorns.

When kings or nobles defaulted on their debts or foolishly disrespected their contracts with the Iron Bank, new kings or nobles would emerge, backed by the bank's financial aid.

These new nobles had to acknowledge previous debts and repay the money they borrowed from the Iron Bank to win their positions, lest they suffer the same fate as their predecessors.

This was why the Iron Bank had loaned out so much money and yet no one dared to renege on their debts.

As the people of Braavos say in a proverb, "The Iron Bank does not tolerate default."

Viserys gazed at the waves on the sea, lost in thought, pondering these complicated matters.

He had some knowledge of Braavos based on his memories and impressions, but these were not comprehensive. The rest was information about Braavos, its customs, and traditions that he had quickly absorbed before setting off.

A soldier sitting nearby observed the young king's expression and seemed to take it for granted.

After several incidents, including the planned assassination of a mercenary and the battle at the Broken Bay, Viserys' reputation had gradually spread among the soldiers.

People said that Viserys possessed a talent equal to his older brother Rhaegar, and now the soldier believed it to be true.

What was he doing at the age of eight?

It seemed like he was still playing with mud and urine.

In reality, Viserys' mind was blank at the moment, unsure of what he was thinking. He was merely staring at the sea, lost in thought.

Although he had disguised himself somewhat, he had remained hidden in the cabin all day, just to be cautious.

After all, this was the first time Viserys had stepped out of the protective circles that had always surrounded him and entered a completely unfamiliar environment.

Even when he had hastily fled King's Landing, he had been escorted by more than fifty soldiers, but now he only had two people by his side.

At that moment, there was a knock on the cabin door.

Knock, knock, knock...

"Young master, it's me."

A deliberately lowered male voice came from outside the door.

...

Chapter 61: Journey

It turned out to be one of the magisters from Braavos.

He had noticed that Viserys hadn't left his cabin since boarding the ship a day ago, so he came to check on him.

He feared that the young king couldn't handle life aboard the ship, after all, Dragonstone was thousands of miles away from Braavos. Their journey required them to first head to Pentos, rest there for a while, load and unload some cargo, then set sail for Braavos once more.

Every time a merchant set sail, they took on a great risk. A single shipwreck could be enough to bankrupt even the most glittering of merchants, unless they were part of a large trading company.

Thus, they had to learn to be greedy, only stopping when they had made a fortune.

However, upon seeing Viserys, the magister let out a small sigh of relief, for the young king seemed to be in good spirits and appeared to have adapted to life on board the ship. He didn't seem to suffer from seasickness or vomit uncontrollably.

"Your Grace."

"It will take us about a month to reach Braavos on this voyage."

Braavos was located in the northwesternmost part of the continent of Essos, between the group of islands at the meeting point of the Narrow Sea and the Shivering Sea. It was far from Dragonstone, and this particular route required them to reach Pentos first, so it naturally took a considerable amount of time.

The Braavosi emissary, dressed in a gray-brown robe, then offered to give Viserys a tour of the ship.

"A tour?"

Viserys raised his eyebrows slightly upon hearing the invitation but ultimately agreed.

"Very well."

Viserys then followed the emissary for a brief tour of the two-masted merchant ship.

The deck above was adorned with massive sails, and below it was the cargo hold, where the merchandise was stored. The bottom-most part of the ship contained the rowing rooms on both sides, with a long corridor running through the middle.

Although this large two-masted sailboat had sufficient power to cross the Narrow Sea, it still needed some oarsmen to provide additional propulsion when necessary.

The ship was a motley mix of people, including small merchants, mercenaries, and those looking to leave the strife-ridden Westeros to make a living in the eastern continent.

Viserys took a brief tour with the emissary, getting some fresh air after being cooped up in his cabin for an entire day.

As they strolled around, many people who were sitting on mats on the deck cast curious glances at Viserys.

Though he had disguised himself, dyeing his silver-gold hair blue and wearing simple clothes, he still looked like the son of a wealthy merchant or a young nobleman.

However, the inherent grace in his every move and the depth in his light purple eyes still gave away that his identity might not be so simple.

A sturdy-looking mother with an infant in her arms sat on the deck, leaning against the ship's side. She boldly exposed her chest to feed her child, her black hair disheveled and looking somewhat dirty.

As Viserys passed by her, she caught a glimpse of him.

She looked at him curiously, with surprise and disbelief, and a strange expression in her eyes.

She then quickly averted her gaze, as if feeling unworthy and afraid that this distinguished young nobleman would notice her.

On the other side of the deck, a group of mercenaries wearing tattered leather armor were drinking and playing games. Their coarse body hair and strong odor could be smelled from afar, and their weapons were either placed by their side by their side or fastened to their waist or legs.

These boisterous mercenaries didn't seem to care about the opinions of others around them, and those nearby appeared to have grown accustomed to their presence.

Even an old man in tattered clothes was lying beside them, resting on a worn-out blanket, snoring loudly.

These mercenaries also noticed Viserys, their faces flushed from drinking, but unlike the nursing woman they had seen earlier, they didn't avoid his gaze and stared at him nonchalantly.

One of them, unsteady on his feet, stood up and walked to Viserys, blocking his path.

The strong odor and alcohol on the mercenary assaulted Viserys, causing him to wrinkle his brow.

He wanted to cover his nose, but he didn't want to provoke these commoners and cause unnecessary trouble with a small gesture.

The young king stopped in his tracks, looking up at the man.

"Hey, young lord," the mercenary said, swaying, hardly able to stand, his face red, and his breath reeking of alcohol.

"Essos isn't as safe as you might think. It's a real dog-eat-dog world over there."

"Do you need to hire some help?"

The mercenary gestured to his drinking companions behind him and then slapped his chest proudly.

"As long as the pay is good, we brothers aren't afraid of death!"

However, the two Dragonstone soldiers following Viserys were angered by this display and quickly stepped in front of their young king.

"Hey, hey, sorry about that, brother," one of the guards said as he pushed the drunken mercenary out of the way. The intoxicated man stumbled, almost falling to the ground.

"His... No, the young lord will be protected by the two of us," the guard corrected himself, almost slipping up. He drew his sword slightly and looked at the mercenary with disgust.

"The young lord doesn't need and won't hire people like you."

As soldiers who had received formal training and dined at the royal table, they looked down on mercenaries, believing them to have no sense of honor and only fighting for money.

However, in reality, deserting and mutinous soldiers were more dangerous than these mercenaries. Many within the mercenary ranks were once soldiers themselves, who had chosen this life-threatening profession for various reasons.

The small conflict on deck caught the attention of the resting passengers, who began to watch the scene unfold.

However, the nearly knocked-over mercenary didn't seem to be angry at the guard's words. Reeking of alcohol and body odor, he only chuckled a few times, appearing not to care about being insulted.

He told Viserys that they could come to him and his brothers if they needed help later.

Afterward, he returned to his seat on the deck and continued eating and drinking with his comrades.

Viserys had witnessed the entire scene, and his furrowed brow relaxed slightly.

He gave the mercenary a curious glance before moving on. .

Chapter 62: The Water Dancer

In this world, there were all sorts of people.

Farmers, slaves, merchants, mercenaries, and even bandits, thieves, and so on...

And the races were diverse as well.

In Westeros, there were Northerners, Ironborn, Dornishmen, Orphans of the Greenblood, mountain clans of the Vale, hill clans of the North, Crannogmen, Skagosi, and even rumored giants and White Walkers beyond the Wall.

And in Essos, the continent Viserys was about to reach, there were Dothraki, Braavosi, Qohorik, Lhazarene, and many more.

Every race, every profession, had its unique way of life, as without being nobility and possessing vast wealth that required no effort to grasp, one had to struggle to survive.

At first, Viserys didn't have a good impression of mercenaries.

It wasn't because of so-called "honor," but because Viserys thought these people were capable of all sorts of wicked deeds, willing to kill anyone as long as they were paid.

However, now an idea suddenly sprouted in Viserys' mind, a thought about how to establish himself in Essos.

"Can I... make use of these mercenaries?"

After all, mercenaries were prevalent on the continent across the Narrow Sea, and he still had plenty of gold in his hands.

In that case, could he hire an army or buy some Unsullied to help him gain a foothold?

The boy stood in silence for a moment, but this was just a sudden idea that came to him. Whether it could be done or how to do it would require further consideration.

Then Viserys glanced at the retreating figure of the mercenary before turning away.

It was just a small incident that didn't cause much disturbance on the ship.

But how many people had been secretly watching Viserys' figure just now was unknown.

Next, Viserys prepared to leave the deck and return to his cabin, where he encountered the First Swordsman of Braavos practicing his swordsmanship.

"Ser Syrio Forel?"

Viserys stopped in his tracks, curiously watching the sword techniques practiced by the First Swordsman.

The man, without any reservations, practiced openly on the deck, merely exercising his muscles.

After all, swordsmanship was a skill that required constant practice, and even a First Swordsman would become rusty if he didn't draw his sword for an extended period.

However, Syrio Forel's swordsmanship was somewhat unique.

It was as light and graceful as an elegant dance, with the sword's gleam like rain, seemingly able to pierce through an enemy's defenses effortlessly.

Viserys narrowed his eyes, and in the depths of his pale purple irises, an intricate magic circle faintly shone.

Under his extraordinary abilities, the swift and fierce swordsmanship of the Braavosi First Swordsman was fully captured by his eyes, clearly visible.

"Is this the famous Water Dance?"

Viserys looked at Syrio Forel with a touch of surprise.

"It's incredible."

This technique differed from mainstream swordsmanship, utilizing a lightweight rapier, standing sideways to face one's opponent, and appearing exceptionally agile.

The swordsmanship Viserys practiced with his instructor followed the more mainstream techniques in Westeros, focusing on open combat and donning armor for war.

In contrast, the Water Dancers seemed to emphasize agile one-on-one combat. .

"Milord, I am merely a swordsman, not any sort of 'noble.'"

At that moment, Syrio noticed Viserys and slightly sheathed his sword, looking at Viserys as he explained.

Although he was the First Sword of Braavos, he held no title, and the position of First Sword , unlike the Kingsguard, was not for life.

If one day his sword lost its edge or a stronger swordsman defeated him, he would have to hand over his position as the First Sword .

"Since there's not much to do on the ship, could I ask for your guidance in swordsmanship when you have time?"

Viserys didn't hesitate, asking directly.

Indeed, there wasn't much to do on the ship, and Viserys thought he could take this opportunity to learn from a master swordsman.

This was a rare opportunity.

"Hm?"

The somewhat unkempt man in black, hearing Viserys' words, paused for a moment, surprised that Viserys wanted to learn swordsmanship from him.

Then he scratched his head.

"Well..."

Actually, the water dance wasn't some secret technique to be kept hidden. Many practiced it in Braavos, as it was a unique swordsmanship system.

Syrio was simply the most diligent and skillful of those practitioners.

"Alright... if milord has the time, you can always ask me for guidance."

The First Sword hesitated for a moment before agreeing to Viserys' request. Teaching others was no psychological barrier for him, as he had taught others in Braavos before.

However, not far away.

A pair of eyes observed everything through the cracks in the cabin door.

The observer quickly hid before Syrio's gaze swept over them.

Syrio turned his head left and right, glancing around, feeling as if someone had been watching him.

"What's going on?"

Yet he found nothing, the man scratched his head in confusion, then let the matter slide.

...

Time passed in a flash.

After about a week, the merchant ship finally arrived at Pentos, one of the Free Cities.

This wealthy harbor city lay east of an area known as the 'Flatlands.' Following the Valyrian-built road further east, crossing the upper tributaries of the Rhoyne, passing through the Velvet Hills and entering the Andalos Mountains, one would reach Ghoyan Drohe.

Continuing along the road, it connected Ghoyan Drohe with the other two Free Cities of Norvos and Qohor.

Pentos' geographical location was very important.

The merchant ship docked in Pentos' harbor, unloaded some cargo, and rested for a few days. A group of passengers disembarked, while another group bound for Braavos paid their fare and boarded the ship.

Among the bustling crowd, Viserys stayed hidden in his cabin, rarely showing his face outside.

During this time, he either read the books given to him by the clerk of King's Landing or practiced swordsmanship with the First Sword .

Viserys' progress in both reading and practicing swordsmanship was astonishing. His gem-like eyes seemed to see through everything, leaving both Cleon and Syrio dumbfounded.

However, just as the merchant ship was about to leave Pentos and sail towards Braavos...

Something unexpected happened. .

Chapter 63: Kidnapping

"You mean..."

"She wants to kidnap me?"

Viserys sat on the bed with a somewhat peculiar expression on his face.

He looked down at the woman who had been pushed to the ground by the soldiers. She was wearing disheveled clothes, her hair unkempt, and she held a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, who was now crying loudly due to the fright.

The sharp cries of the human infant pierced the eardrums and were indeed invigorating. Viserys felt a headache coming on.

He then gestured to a soldier nearby to take the child from the woman and bring it to another room.

However, the woman was unwilling to hand over her child to the soldier, and she let out an unintelligible scream, trying to snatch the baby back.

But she was once again kicked to the ground, and she covered her stomach as she writhed in pain on the floor.

Viserys had watched this entire scene, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, but he said nothing.

If the woman really was a kidnapper or a slave trader, she indeed deserved severe punishment.

"Yes, my lord."

The woman's child had been taken to another room, and the cabin was temporarily quiet. Another soldier heard Viserys' words, nodded, and began to explain.

"We checked her ticket. She should have disembarked at Pentos but had not left the ship."

"This morning, as the ship was preparing to leave Pentos, she sneaked up to your room with ill intentions."

"Perhaps she planned to kidnap you and escape as the ship was about to leave Pentos."

Perhaps? Possibly?

Viserys listened to the soldier's words, his brow still furrowed. Such a matter should not be judged with such vague conclusions.

Viserys then saw the soldier, as if by magic, pull a bundle of rope and a dagger from his sleeve.

"My lord, these were found on her."

The outcome was now clear. It seemed that her intentions were indeed malicious.

Viserys closed his mouth, and his gaze returned to the woman.

She did not have the slender figure and enchanting curves of other women. Instead, she appeared somewhat sturdy, with black hair, a flat nose, and a few freckles scattered across her face.

The woman's hair was messy, and her clothes were disheveled. But Viserys would rather believe it was not for any sinister reason but to facilitate feeding her child.

Viserys now remembered who the woman was.

Although they had only met briefly in the cabin, Viserys had an excellent memory.

She was the woman who had been breastfeeding her child when he first boarded the ship and toured it. She had been sitting on the deck, leaning against the ship's railing, openly exposing her body to feed her child.

Viserys had exchanged glances with her at that time, and since then, he had not encountered her again, as far as he could recall.

This woman had set her sights on him?

Why?

Reflected in his pale purple eyes was the ugly, sturdy woman, who was now sitting on the ground, clutching her stomach in pain, also looking at Viserys.

Their eyes met, and time seemed to pause for a second.

"Your eyes possess astonishing magical power."

"This unknown 'lord.'"

The woman, sitting on the ground and clutching her stomach, suddenly spoke up.

This was the first time she had spoken since being captured. Even when she had struggled with the soldier over her child and been kicked, she had only muttered unintelligibly but had not spoken a word.

The woman's voice was somewhat hoarse and rough, like the sound of metal scraping against each other, yet the words she spoke took Viserys by surprise.

"What?!"

The young king, who had been so calm just moments ago, nearly sat up straight in bed.

However, he soon realized that the woman was speaking in Valyrian and breathed a sigh of relief.

The Targaryen family spoke Valyrian as their mother tongue, but the Targaryen soldiers did not. They still spoke the Common Tongue of Westeros.

The soldiers didn't understand what the woman was saying, only hearing her mumbling unintelligible words, like some sort of spell. Annoyed, they instinctively wanted to beat the criminal who was attempting to harm the boy.

Yet Viserys stopped their actions.

"Wait."

The blue-haired boy sat on the bed, somewhat uneasy.

He then jumped down and walked in front of the woman, looking at her with piercing eyes.

Then, using Valyrian, he asked seriously.

"What... did you just say?"

In contrast to Viserys, the disheveled-haired woman took a few deep breaths and became much calmer.

She looked at the boy who walked up to her and spoke again with her raspy voice.

"It is a very rare gift, my lord. There is no need for you to panic."

"I don't know how many people wish to obtain such a gift but cannot find a way."

"Moreover, it seems you have already realized the power in your own eyes."

Although the woman's face was ugly, she undoubtedly possessed exceptional cleverness and a talent for deception.

Through her keen observations, she saw Viserys' facial expressions and deduced that he had long been aware of the magical power within his eyes. He was only astonished that she had discovered it.

The woman looked at Viserys and, without waiting for him to speak, added again.

"I believe you now understand that I had no ill intentions towards you."

The woman was also curious about Viserys' identity.

From their first encounter, she had noticed the extraordinary power within the boy's eyes.

She had been hiding and secretly observing Viserys ever since.

During this time, she saw clearly that Braavosi officials were accompanying Viserys, as well as a skilled water dancer swordsman who instructed the boy in swordsmanship.

What sort of nobleman's son could command such attention?

It was only on the last day when she tried to approach Viserys to uncover the secrets he carried that she was discovered by his guards.

The woman struggled and resisted, but was ultimately captured and brought before the boy.

However, this also gave her the opportunity to speak with him face-to-face.

"Is that so?"

Viserys had been panicked for a second when he heard that the woman had discovered his secret.

But his state of mind quickly stabilized.

Upon hearing the woman's explanation that she had no intention of kidnapping him, the boy's brow furrowed slightly.

He then looked at the rope and dagger thrown on the floor.

No ill intentions...

What did she want, then, approaching him with those items in secret? .

Chapter 64: Mirri of Lhazar

"This..."

Viserys noticed the disbelief written across the boy's face.

Following his gaze, he saw the dagger and rope on the ground, and Mirri's face grew slightly embarrassed.

With this evidence, explaining herself would be difficult.

The truth was...

She did indeed intend to kidnap Viserys.

She wanted to uncover the secret hidden within the boy. To a sorceress like Mirri, the radiance emanating from Viserys was like a precious gem in the darkness or a tantalizing roast to a starving prisoner.

So, from the day she discovered the power within Viserys, she began her meticulous scheme.

Mirri secretly observed the boy's every move, evading detection by the keen senses of the water dancer and the guards.

Her plan was straightforward, just as the soldier had described.

The merchant ship had been docked in Pentos for several days and was set to sail to Braavos that morning.

She intended to seize the opportunity as the ship was about to leave, binding Viserys and stuffing him into a bag before sneaking off the vessel.

Once the ship had left the harbor, even if the guards realized the boy was missing, it wouldn't be easy for them to turn back.

By then, Mirri would have already blended into the bustling city with the captured child.

Although Pentos had officially banned slave trade after losing the war with Braavos, it continued to thrive in secret.

After uncovering Viserys' secret, she planned to sell him to greedy slave traders. His handsome features would surely appeal to wealthy merchants and ladies, potentially fetching a high price.

By that time, she would have returned to her homeland with the secret of magic and her spoils, escaping any consequences.

However...

Mirri's plan was flawless, but her clumsy movements betrayed her. Her attempts at stealth were doomed to fail.

She even tried to hide behind a pillar barely thicker than a baby's arm, insulting the intelligence of the guards from Dragonstone.

She was discovered and fought the guards with her robust figure but was ultimately captured.

...

"Let's say...I'll pretend to believe your excuses for now."

The atmosphere in the cabin grew awkward, but after a long silence, Viserys finally spoke up, standing before Mirri.

"Now, tell me, why did you approach me?"

Truthfully, Viserys didn't believe a single word of Mirri's defense.

However, he didn't want to dwell on this issue. Instead, he was more concerned about how she had discovered the hidden power within his eyes and her true intentions.

"Of course, I wanted to know how you managed to awaken your magical abilities."

Mirri stared into Viserys' pale violet eyes, understanding that the boy was not easily deceived. She quickly devised a plan in her mind, but also wisely chose to confess voluntarily.

"Magic has gone through many periods of absence throughout history, only to return time and time again. It is like the ebb and flow of ocean tides, rising and falling."

...

"Magic is extremely weak now, almost unusable."

At this moment, the woman was still sitting on the ground, but she had changed to a cross-legged position. She casually brushed her messy hair and looked at Viserys as she explained.

"But you have awakened the power of magic at this time..."

That's why Viserys had become so conspicuous, attracting the woman to sneak over.

However, as Viserys listened to the woman's mysterious words, his expression turned slightly confused because he could not understand a single word.

Magic, and something about... tides?

Knowing the future, Viserys, of course, knew that this world had magic.

He even knew about the future 'Blood of Stars,' the male witches, the Children of the Forest and the greenseers beyond the Wall, and even the red-robed woman who gave birth to a shadow.

But he never thought that such a terrifying and mysterious power would appear so abruptly before his eyes.

Viserys had always believed that he was far from these mysterious things, as he was still a trapped beast, confined in a cage with a sword hanging above his head, ready to die at any moment.

But now, these things were already close at hand, even coming to his doorstep.

"Who exactly are you?"

After a moment of silence, the slightly deep voice of the boy sounded.

Blue hair hung over his shoulders, and the black velvet coat outlined with gold shimmered in the sunlight.

Viserys stood in front of the woman, staring intently at her, as if trying to see through her true nature.

This woman spoke casually about the arcane knowledge unknown to others, and even a bit of mystification.

There were only two possibilities for such a person. One was that she was a complete liar, and the other was that she might have some real skills.

"My name is Mirri Maz Duur. I am from Lhazar and am a Lhazareen. I come to serve you, your distinguished lordship."

As the woman had already revealed her purpose, her identity would not remain hidden for long, so she simply confessed everything.

"My mother is a priestess in the temple of my hometown, and she has always wanted to train me as her successor, teaching me songs and spells to please the Great Shepherd, so I know a little about magic."

This woman, named Mirri, explained her identity in one breath.

But whether this was her whole story, no one could know for sure.

"Where is your hometown?"

"Lhazar?"

Viserys was surprised to hear Mirri's self-introduction.

He had previously learned some knowledge about the continent of Essos, and although Lhazar was not a significant place, Viserys had glanced at it when looking at the map and had a vague impression of it.

Now, as Viserys recalled the location of Lhazar on the map, he was shocked because the woman's hometown was extremely far from their current location.

Lhazar was south of the Dothraki Sea, bordered by Slaver's Bay, and close to the Red Waste and the Jade Sea.

It was even not far from the legendary Shadow Lands of Asshai.

"Your hometown is Lhazar, how did you come to be here?"

Chapter 65: Punishment

"I once consulted a maester from the Citadel named Marwyn about the secrets of the human body and the Common Tongue of Westeros," Mirri began to explain why she was on this ship.

As she spoke, she subtly changed the topic and uttered her last sentence in the Common Tongue of Westeros.

The guards standing nearby listened to the two people's unintelligible chatter for a while, finally understanding a single sentence, yet still looking puzzled.

After saying that, Mirri spoke another sentence, which even Viserys couldn't understand, because it wasn't in High Valyrian.

"We Ghiscari people have our own language," Mirri said, her voice uncharacteristically calm.

"We love to sing, revere nature, and our tribes survive by herding, so we worship the Shepherd God."

"However, in Dothraki, we are called 'Hrakkar,' which means 'Sheep People.'"

Mirri, a Ghiscari, knew the fate of her people was not pleasant. They were too far from happiness, too close to the Dothraki and the Slaver's Bay.

The Dothraki often raided the Ghiscari settlements, taking their cattle, sheep, and wives.

Captured Ghiscari men were often sold as slaves in places like Meereen, while the useless elderly were killed outright.

Viserys, however, had no time to concern himself with the tragic fate of the Ghiscari people. He wasn't a god, unable to manage the world's suffering, and he wouldn't let this woman lead the conversation astray.

"I understand," Viserys nodded, steering the conversation back on track.

"Continue telling me about the magical tides."

He was more interested in the magical tides the woman mentioned.

Mirri saw she had failed to divert the boy's attention and sighed. If it were another child, perhaps an interesting story would have been enough to distract them.

However, it was clear this boy was no ordinary person. Mirri gathered her thoughts and spoke again.

"My lord," she began, "Magic has been interrupted several times in history, with noticeable gaps lasting extended periods."

"And now, it's been a long time since the last dragon disappeared."

"No one knows when magic will reawaken."

"Wizards, Moon Singers, and priests have all lost their powers and become ordinary people."

"They barely survive, enduring humiliation, and hoping for change one day."

"Really?" Viserys listened to the woman's story and fell into silence.

Seeing his expression, Mirri couldn't help but speak up again.

"Of course, my getting close to you wasn't malicious," she said. "I was just curious about how you managed to revive magic."

Viserys' thoughts were interrupted by the woman's cunning words. He frowned slightly, then lifted his head.

He didn't actually care what the woman intended to do to him. Viserys had thought about punishing her by cutting off one hand, given that she was caring for a baby. But she had approached him voluntarily.

"I don't know Ghiscari law, but in Westeros, you'd face death or..."

Viserys furrowed his brow but stopped halfway through his sentence, for women were not allowed to don the black.

If she were in Westeros, it would be a dead end for her.

"By law, my lord, I have not done anything," she said.

Speaking of the law, Melli seemed suddenly composed.

"I trust you will uphold justice, my lord. A bundle of rope and a dagger prove nothing."

Viserys raised an eyebrow slightly. The woman had a point; after all, she had been caught before she could do anything.

Even in his previous life, it would be considered an unexecuted crime, and this seemingly crucial 'ironclad evidence' was insufficient to determine her guilt.

After all, it wasn't a crime to think. If even fantasies were criminal, there would be no one left in this world.

"You're right, indeed," he said.

"But I don't need a reason to throw you into the sea to feed the fish," Viserys declared, folding his arms across his chest.

"Give me a reason to let you live."

Melli swallowed, gazing at the boy's calm, indifferent face. It seemed that if she didn't give a convincing reason, Viserys might truly toss her into the sea to feed the fish.

"My lord, my lord... I've noticed that you don't know much about magic. I wonder if you need a magical advisor."

"I can help you master this power better, and I will only receive the reward I deserve."

In her desperation to survive, the woman proposed a bold idea.

Viserys glanced at her; he did need her magical knowledge, and she had astutely grasped his intention.

Although Viserys needed the woman's magical knowledge, he found it hard to trust this cunning stranger.

"Very well, Miss Mirri, but your reward will depend on your performance," Viserys said calmly.

"However... I am a man who rewards and punishes accordingly."

"I'll assume it was just a thought, and you haven't yet committed a crime."

"Yet even an evil thought must be paid for. For the next year, you will be shackled."

With Viserys's words, a soldier stepped forward and fastened shackles to the woman's hands and feet.

She would live the next year dragging heavy chains – Viserys's punishment for her.

Only then could Viserys trust having this mysterious, magic-wielding woman by his side.

"Thank you, my lord, for your mercy," the woman said, kneeling on the ground in gratitude.

The blue-haired boy reached out his hand and helped the shackled woman to her feet.

He then instructed the guard who had taken Melli's child to return the infant to her.

The child continued to wail, and the disheveled woman with shackles on her hands and feet hurriedly embraced her flesh and blood.

She gently rocked the child, humming a soft, indistinguishable melody.

Miraculously, the child quickly quieted in its mother's arms, no longer crying or fussing.

With wide eyes, the child stared at Viserys and even smiled.

The child waved its hands and feet, seemingly wanting Viserys to hold it. .

Chapter 66: The Essence of the World

"Is this your son?"

Viserys stood in place, reaching out to cradle the infant boy in his arms before looking up to ask the question.

"Yes, my esteemed young master."

As Mirri had received her due punishment and now served as Viserys' arcane advisor, her attitude had become much more sincere.

Without waiting for Viserys to ask, she took the initiative to explain.

"I just chanted a song of the Moon Singers; it can soothe children's emotions, calming them and stopping their crying."

"I've been to the Shadow Lands and Asshai to learn the art of healing, where I learned such knowledge from the Moon Singers of Jogos Nhai."

Mirri's identity was mysterious, and it seemed she had traveled to many places.

Viserys, holding the infant boy in his arms, paused for a moment.

...

Returning from Westeros to her homeland, Mirri experienced a significant, unexpected discovery, and due to a moment of wicked thoughts, she ultimately received her punishment.

Mirri's original plan was interrupted, and she could not return home for the time being.

Her mother had hoped that she could end her travels, return to her homeland, and inherit the position of priestess in the temple, continuing her mother's mission.

However, it was clear that Mirri preferred a life of freedom and travel.

She left her homeland to learn the art of healing in the Shadow Lands and Asshai, learning the birthing songs from the Moon Singers of Jogos Nhai, acquiring knowledge of herbal medicine from Dothraki women, and encountering Archmaester Marwyn, a learned and wise master who told her all the secrets hidden beneath the skin.

Now, she had met Viserys, the boy who reawakened magic.

So she was actually very willing to follow this boy, even if she bore shackles without any complaints.

Because she wanted to slowly uncover the secret of the resurgence of magic within Viserys.

However, due to various twists of fate, Mirri had already been shackled and punished, becoming Viserys' advisor, and it was certain that she would never be able to return to her homeland to become a priestess in her mother's stead.

But as the merchant ship had already left Pentos, she could not send a message to her mother in her homeland, informing her that her plans had changed.

So, she could only wait until they arrived in Braavos to do this.

And after the merchant ship left Pentos, its final destination was Braavos.

The great ship left port, riding the wind and breaking the waves, sailing along the western coast of the continent of Essos.

This was the coastline named the "Braavos Coast" after several city-state wars ended in victory for Braavos.

Viserys rarely left his cabin to stand on the deck, but his mood had lightened slightly, as this long journey was finally nearing its end.

...

Time at sea was dull, boring, and fleeting.

In the blink of an eye, another half a month had passed.

Viserys spent each day practicing swordsmanship with the First Sword , but not just the water dance; because Syrio Forel was proficient in more than one type of swordsmanship.

He was guiding Viserys on a path more suited to him.

The First Sword was indeed committed, earnestly teaching Viserys swordsmanship.

In addition to practicing swordsmanship, Viserys didn't forget the old maester's dying admonitions, spending fixed periods of time reading books and continuously enhancing his knowledge.

At the same time, he also asked Mirri for some knowledge about magic.

"When the glass candles burn once more, ghost grass grows anew, dragonfire scorches the earth, phantom turtles haunt the streets of the warlocks, the blind regain their sight, and those who have scorned the warlocks find curses upon them."

"These various signs all represent the return of magic, and the power of magic may very well be revived once again."

Mirri, wearing heavy shackles, spoke calmly as she explained to Viserys what the world would look like when magic returned. The days of wearing shackles were not easy, but the woman seemed to have grown accustomed to it over time, at least her wrists and ankles were no longer bleeding from the friction.

Viserys listened intently, even though he did not know what glass candles, ghost grass, or phantom turtles were. But that did not stop him from knowing that all of this would reappear in a decade or so.

For dragons would be hatched by then, and the traces of the White Walkers would begin to appear in the Haunted Forest beyond the Wall.

Did this symbolize that the moment of the return of the magical tide was approaching?

A shadow of gloom enveloped Viserys' heart. The beginning of it all had not yet arrived, or perhaps some early signs were already emerging.

However, when the time truly came, the world would unveil its most mysterious side.

Viserys might face even more unpredictable enemies, and his foresight advantage would gradually fade away.

"If magic exists, then what about the gods?"

"Mirri."

"The Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God, R'hllor, the Black Goat, and even the Great Shepherd, and so on..."

Though not famous, out of respect, Viserys included the Great Shepherd, the god of the Lhazareen people, and then could not help but ask.

"Do all these gods exist as well?"

The shackles clanked.

Mirri, facing the boy's question, fell silent for a long time. Perhaps this question was difficult for her too, but in the end, she spoke.

"Perhaps."

"Your Grace."

Over the past half month, Mirri had, of course, learned of Viserys' true Targaryen identity while accompanying him. In addition to being shocked, she also felt it was only natural. Perhaps it was in such noble blood that unfathomable secrets were hidden.

However, knowing this secret, she also understood that it would not be easy for her to escape.

Although she did not want to leave now, if one day she wanted to, there was a risk that this seemingly harmless boy would order her execution to keep her quiet.

"Though no one has ever seen their true form."

"Yet the gods' radiance is constantly influencing the world. Instead of dividing the world by nations, cities, and races, it's more fitting to divide it by the beliefs in various gods."

"I believe... this is the true nature of the world."

The people on the ship could already see the Titan of Braavos towering over the land from afar.

This statue, made of stone and bronze, stood with one foot on each of two separate islands, raising a broken sword in one hand, and flames burning in the hollows of its eyes.

From a great distance, they could only see a vague shadow.

The people on the ship felt as if they could faintly hear the Titan's roar and then began to cheer and celebrate.

They celebrated the end of this long journey and their survival through the voyage.

Meanwhile, in the cabin.

Viserys listened to the cheers outside, feeling slightly uneasy, then took a deep breath and spoke.

"So, what you mean is..."

"The essence of this world is a struggle among the gods?"

Chapter 67: Arrival

Viserys' profound conversation with the priestess Mirri deepened the boy's understanding of the world. Before this, his perception was shrouded in fog, which now began to dissipate, revealing a faint outline.

Yet, the truth hidden within the fog might still be far away.

In the outside world,

The merchant ship that had crossed the vast ocean finally passed beneath the most famous landmark in Braavos, the Titan of Braavos. A distant roar seemed to echo through the sky as if the Titan itself were bellowing in anger.

And so, the merchant ship officially entered the territory of the colossal city-state of Braavos.

Splish-splash—

The ship cleaved through the waves, sails billowing, and oarsmen rowing. Standing on the deck, one could behold a breathtakingly bustling scene.

Countless ships navigated the city, which was made up of hundreds of islands. Stone arch bridges connected these islands, and the sea of sails seemed endless. The vast bay appeared slightly crowded, filled with the clamor of surging crowds, various ship flags, and people from different races. They were all merchant ships from around the world.

Some originated from as far away as the Summer Isles in the Summer Sea, Ibben in the Shivering Sea, Qarth near the Jade Sea, and even from Asshai.

Braavos had become the true center of world trade, with an astonishing number of ships entering and leaving the port daily.

Upon reaching Braavos, the large ship Viserys was aboard suddenly seemed rather ordinary, as several larger vessels calmly passed by, unceremoniously shoving them aside.

"Braavos, we've arrived!"

Boom—

The merchant ship docked at a pier, and Braavosi customs officers boarded to conduct inspections. After passing the inspection, the ship continued inward, eventually anchoring at a large port. An inexplicable massive sound ensued.

One by one, the people on the ship disembarked, officially arriving in the city that was the foremost of the nine Free Cities. Viserys mingled with the crowd, disembarking as well. During this time, a minor incident occurred.

In the bustling port, a thief seemed to have set his sights on a gemstone worn by Viserys, attempting to stealthily snatch it away.

However, before the thief could even reach out, he was caught red-handed, and several wallets fell from his person.

But once they were in Braavos, there was no need for Viserys to personally deal with the thief. Braavosi soldiers promptly arrived to apprehend the offender.

"It was just an accident."

"In fact, such scum exist everywhere."

The magistrate, clad in a grayish-brown robe, appeared somewhat embarrassed. Throughout their journey, Viserys had encountered various types of people, expanding his horizons.

Originally, the magistrate had been praising Braavos for its civilization, prosperity, and excellent public order. However, he hadn't expected Viserys to be targeted by a thief immediately upon disembarking.

Moreover, it seemed the thief hadn't solely focused on Viserys, as he had several wallets in his possession. It was unclear whether the victims had realized their belongings were missing.

"Yes, I understand."

"In King's Landing, there are many such people as well."

Viserys couldn't help but feel slightly amused as he nodded in agreement. Although it was just a small, seemingly insignificant incident, it left him with a first impression of Braavos.

The faint admiration and fear he had felt initially for the city vanished. Braavos, with its wealth, trade, and civilization, built collectively by slaves, had long been a source of aspiration and awe for countless people.

Viserys' previous impressions, as well as the descriptions he had read in books during this time, had only deepened this awe.

However, upon his arrival in the legendary city, he didn't feel the sweet air he had expected, but instead encountered a thief secretly reaching out to him.

Soon after, Viserys and his party didn't linger at the harbor for long. Two carriages, heavily draped with curtains, were already waiting for them. Viserys stepped into one, and they headed straight for the Sea Lord's palace, the Sea Lord's Hall.

The sound of carriage wheels filled the air.

Sitting in the carriage, Viserys felt a rare sense of stability as his feet rested upon a silver carpet sewn by Myrish craftsmen. His gaze shifted to the unfamiliar city outside.

To Viserys, Braavos appeared as a city of stone, riddled with canals and docks.

From his vantage point in the carriage, he could see many gray, gold, or red stone arch bridges. The city streets were lined with closely-packed gray stone houses, some even built over the canals. Most of the buildings were narrow, four or five-story structures with pointed rooftops covered in tiles. There were also towering domes and high towers in the distance. Overall, the opulence and bustling activity of Braavos seemed to far surpass that of King's Landing.

"Welcome to Braavos, Your Grace."

The city official, no longer needing to conceal Viserys' identity, addressed him as a king rather than as a young lord. He sat in the same carriage, proudly introducing the city to the young king as they traveled.

The Isle of the Gods, the Purple Harbor, the Moon Pool, and more – each place had its own legendary tale. The middle-aged man then pointed into the distance.

There stood a colossal domed tower, overlooking the Purple Harbor below.

"That is our destination. The Sea Lord awaits you there."

...

The carriage entered the Sea Lord's Hall and came to a halt after passing through a garden.

Not far away, a few young girls seemed to be playing, their attention drawn by the approaching carriage.

Viserys then leaped from the carriage.

"This is the Sea Lord's Hall."

"After more than a month of traveling, we've finally reached our destination."

Despite his composed demeanor, Viserys couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief. He jumped down from the carriage, straightened his clothes, and brushed off any dust that had settled on them.

The journey hadn't been entirely smooth. Only after leaving the protection of his army did he truly come face-to-face with the harsh realities of the world.

There were no nobles, no scheming, no wars, just countless living beings struggling to survive, committing both good and bad deeds.

Mercenaries, thieves, merchants, farmers, and more... people of all kinds who, while not significant enough to be recorded in history, formed the most important part of this world.

...

Chapter 68: The Prince of Dorne

Soon after, Viserys and his entourage were arranged to rest in the Sea King's Palace.

Viserys had a separate luxurious bedroom, his two guards were stationed in a room outside the suite to protect him, and the shackled priestess with her child also had a separate room.

Out of respect for their privacy, Viserys never asked who the child's father was. Men dying in accidents or leaving pregnant women behind were all too common in these times.

Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many orphans on the streets of King's Landing, only to be exploited by those with ulterior motives, trained to become their eyes and ears. Their lives were truly tragic.

After returning to his bedroom, Viserys couldn't wait to take a hot bath. Due to his disguise and the scarcity of fresh water on the ship, he hadn't bathed in a long time.

The Sea King's Palace had a huge hot spring pool, where the Sea King and his guests could soak on ordinary days.

Viserys washed the filth off his body in a wooden barrel in his bedroom. His dyed blue hair returned to its original color during the cleaning, and his dirty face became fair and rosy.

Following the guidance of a maid, Viserys, wearing a golden velvet robe and slippers, came to the giant hot spring pool in the Sea King's Palace. As soon as he entered the hall, the hot steam hit him, causing his fair face to warm up slightly.

The hot spring pool in the Sea King's Palace, though large, was incredibly serene. The water was crystal clear and empty, waiting only for Viserys.

Splash—

The boy changed his clothes and slowly immersed himself in the water, leaving only his head exposed. His silver-gold hair spread out, completely soaked by the water, clinging to his fair and smooth skin. In the misty white steam, it looked like melted silver slowly flowing down.

"How enjoyable."

Viserys soaked in the hot spring, gently leaning against the edge of the rock wall, closing his eyes slightly to enjoy the peace of the moment. It seemed as if all the fatigue from his month-long journey at sea was released at this time.

Including the upcoming pressure that could be foreseen.

About the envoys from Dorne.

About convincing Braavos to support the Targaryens' survival on this land.

About the future...

White mist swirled in the hot spring pool, and before he knew it, the boy fell asleep at the edge of the pool, perhaps truly exhausted.

After an unknown amount of time passed, the sound of messy footsteps came from the corridor outside the hot spring pool, along with a soft whispering female voice.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a narrow waist gently held a maid in his arms and entered the hot spring hall. Before he could fully enter, the man's hand had already reached under the maid's clothes.

Only then did he notice the silver-haired boy in the hot spring pool, who had already fallen into a deep sleep due to exhaustion.

"Hmm?"

The man had a few fine wrinkles on his face and thin eyebrows, with pitch-black snake-like eyes, a flat forehead, and a sharp nose.

His black hair was glossy, with streaks of silver in it. His hair formed a widow's peak above his brow, slightly messy. Below his nose were two small mustaches, and his cheeks and chin had a circle of soft sideburns.

He stopped in his tracks, looking at Viserys's silhouette, especially his silver hair that looked like molten metal. He then narrowed his eyes slightly.

...

The serving girl collapsed softly into his arms, held firmly by his strong, muscular limbs. Her fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, her chest heaving as she panted lightly.

Realizing that the man's movements had ceased, she lifted her head curiously.

"Your Highness, what's wrong?"

However, the man known as the prince did not answer her question. Instead, a faint smile appeared on his weathered cheeks.

He then turned away from Viserys, kissed the girl's cheek, and with his other hand skillfully untied her garments from behind while she remained unresponsive.

Caught off guard by his sudden advance, the serving girl let out a soft gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. The man undressed himself, then, without concern for whether the slumbering Viserys might awaken, embraced the girl and submerged with her into the water.

"My lord..."

The man and woman entwined themselves in the water, seemingly oblivious to the world around them.

...

In truth, Viserys was a light sleeper, but the constant fatigue from over a month of life aboard a ship had worn him down, causing him to fall asleep in the hot spring.

After some time had passed, he awoke to the sound of faint whispers and rippling water.

"Cough."

Viserys, caught off guard by his sudden awakening, choked on some water before grabbing onto the edge of the hot spring pool.

Through the hazy mist, he saw a scene that made his eyes widen and his remaining drowsiness vanish in an instant.

"Pfft—"

The water Viserys had choked on sprayed out of his mouth, and his eyes widened further. He never expected to fall asleep in the hot spring pool, only to open his eyes to such a sight.

The couple entwined in the water, previously oblivious to their surroundings, noticed the boy who had been sleeping at the edge of the pool, now wide-eyed and shocked as he stared at the two of them.

"Hey, what's the big deal?"

"Little guy."

The serving girl, blushing, quickly hid her face, while the curly-haired, bearded man merely shrugged nonchalantly.

"It's just a bit of exercise. You'll come to love this activity one day too."

With a gentle smack on the girl's shapely bottom, he sent her away, then spoke.

Viserys, sitting in the hot spring pool, was initially startled by the scene that greeted him upon awakening but soon regained his composure.

Knowing that this was deep within the Sea King's palace, ordinary people could not have access. Taking a deep breath, Viserys looked at the man and asked directly.

"Who are you?"

At that moment, footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the hot spring pool.

"Your Majesty, Prince Oberyn, are you both in there?"

"An invitation from the Sea King."

Chapter 69: Meeting with the Sea Lord

The Sea Lord's Palace, as one of the most important administrative facilities in Braavos, was naturally grand and imposing. The towering domes and high towers were all built from neatly cut square stone blocks, and the intricate corridors within led to four main gates.

It was now the end of August in the 284th year since Aegon's Conquest, and though the tail end of summer had not entirely faded, the Sea Lord's Palace, built entirely of square stones, was exceptionally cool and refreshing.

There were no trees in the city of Braavos, but the Sea Lord's Palace was lush and green, filled with the songs of birds and the fragrance of flowers, with servants bustling about in the courtyards.

Viserys and Oberyn walked side by side through the half-open corridors of the Sea Lord's Palace, with a handmaiden leading the way.

The Prince of Dorne looked around curiously, occasionally reaching out to touch the bas-reliefs on the corridor walls and nodding thoughtfully, as if he had some unique insights into the realm of art.

Viserys, on the other hand, stared straight ahead the entire time, lost in thought.

Their roles seemed to have been reversed; Oberyn appeared to be a curious child, while Viserys had become a silent adult.

"Prince Oberyn."

The footsteps of the three people echoed through the corridor as they ascended the winding stone stairs. The area, devoid of sunlight, was somewhat gloomy and oppressive.

Viserys finally glanced at the man beside him and broke the silence.

"Hmm."

Oberyn didn't turn to look at Viserys, his gaze still fixed on the bas-reliefs on the walls. They depicted the glorious history of Braavos from its founding to the present day.

Braavos was never part of the Valyrian Freehold. It was founded about five hundred years before Aegon's Landing by refugees who had escaped Valyrian enslavement.

At that time, a group of slaves tasked with rowing in a Valyrian fleet staged a revolt and seized control of the ships. Unable to resist the Valyrians' dragons, the former slaves fled as far from Valyrian influence as possible, crossing the Narrow Sea to the north.

They eventually arrived at the fog-shrouded archipelago in the brackish lagoon, led by the Moon Singers.

These escaped slaves hailed from many different lands and held various beliefs. Thus, the founders of Braavos gave every god a place in their city and declared that they would never favor any one deity.

These people included the Andals, the Summer Islanders, the Ghiscari, the Naathi, the Ibbenese, the Sarnori, as well as Valyrians of pure blood who were in debt or had committed crimes.

Some were trained slave soldiers, others were bed slaves, cooks, grooms, stewards, and skilled craftsmen such as carpenters, blacksmiths, stonemasons, and laborers, as well as fishermen and kitchen slaves, among others.

The newly freed people spoke many dialects, so the language of their former masters, Valyrian, became their common tongue.

Oberyn was engrossed in the bas-reliefs depicting the glorious history of Braavos, while Viserys furrowed his brow slightly but continued speaking.

"As far as I know... Prince Oberyn."

"Dorne seems to be negotiating with the usurper who illegally occupies the Iron Throne."

Viserys didn't beat around the bush but asked directly.

He hoped to glean Dorne's true stance from Oberyn and establish some foundation for their negotiations.

Oberyn's voice was calm, but it sent shivers down their spines and made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.

"Is that so?"

Viserys, hearing Oberyn's words, narrowed his eyes but remained silent for a moment before continuing.

"Then... I wonder if Prince Oberyn's communication through Braavos represents just yourself, or if Prince Doran shares the same sentiment?"

"Oh, that's a good question..."

Oberyn sized up Viserys, seemingly surprised that he could ask such a direct and crucial question.

As Viserys and Oberyn conversed while walking, they were led by a handmaiden to the Sea Lord's audience chamber.

...

Inside the room, a middle-aged man with dark hair and brown eyes sat in a chair, reading a book.

The room was exceptionally spacious, sunlight streaming in through the windows. A lavish gray carpet covered the floor, and a golden bed adorned with drapes stood nearby. The bookshelves against the wall were filled with rare books from all over the world.

It seemed that Ferrego Antaryon, the Sea Lord, had a particular fondness for reading.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, accompanied by hushed conversation. The middle-aged man sitting in the chair glanced up.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in."

The man in the chair casually marked his place with a fold in the page, then closed the book in his hands as he spoke.

The handmaiden, hearing his voice, pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Sea Lord, your guests have arrived."

The handmaiden curtsied slightly to the Sea Lord, who nodded in acknowledgment. She then withdrew slowly.

Viserys and Oberyn entered the room.

Upon entering, Viserys was immediately struck by a faint floral scent. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be the smell of perfume.

"Hmm?"

Viserys was puzzled by the excessive use of perfume in the room but chose not to voice his question.

He surveyed the surroundings; the room was spacious, with a well-lit balcony, a golden bed, and a bookcase. It looked more like a bedroom than an audience chamber.

"Welcome, esteemed guests."

The middle-aged man seated at the round table did not rise; instead, he sat quietly in his chair, hands clasped together, and politely greeted them.

This man was none other than the current Sea Lord of Braavos, Ferrego Antaryon.

"Do not be surprised, esteemed guests."

The Sea Lord seemed to notice the puzzled expression on Viserys' face and calmly explained.

"I am afflicted with a terrible illness, requiring me to consume large quantities of medicinal soup daily."

"Therefore, the room is filled with the scent of herbs, which I mask with the fragrance of perfume."

...

Chapter 70: Signing the Pact

The Sea Lord of Braavos was open about his current health, admitting that he was seriously ill and needed to use perfume to mask the smell of medicinal herbs in the room.

Perhaps for this reason, the Sea Lord's 'reception room' was actually his bedroom.

However, his demeanor was positive, showing no signs of severe illness other than a slightly sallow complexion. He then smiled apologetically, saying, "I hope you both can forgive my discourtesy of not being able to greet you personally."

As a figure theoretically at the top of the world's power pyramid, the Sea Lord's attitude was very humble, reflecting his good upbringing. Also, Viserys and Oberyn were of potential benefit to him.

Just as the Iron Bank valued numbers and believed that math would never deceive, they held a similar view.

"Sea Lord," Oberyn said, now with a serious expression and impeccable manners, as he slightly bowed and took a seat beside the Sea Lord. He had once been a mercenary in Essos, serving in the Second Sons before forming his own team, so he naturally understood the Valyrian language.

"Sea Lord," Viserys greeted, following Oberyn's example and taking a seat in front of the Sea Lord.

The round table before Ferrego Antaryon had only two chairs, evidently prepared for the two guests.

Outside the door, the First Sword , Syrio Forel, had just greeted Viserys. Now, seeing that the guests and host were about to discuss serious matters, he pulled the door shut and guarded it.

As the bedroom door closed, the atmosphere inside became slightly tense.

"Your Grace," the Sea Lord began, setting the tone for the conversation. "The usurper's war in Westeros is a deplorable act of betrayal. I personally regret the fate that has befallen your father and brother."

Viserys nodded in appreciation, knowing these were merely courtesies.

However, he didn't angrily question the Sea Lord about why the Iron Bank would lend massive amounts of gold dragons to the usurper if they condemned the betrayal.

"Nevertheless, a Westeros in turmoil does not serve our interests," the Sea Lord continued, looking at the young man seated before him.

Viserys had grown taller over the past year, no longer needing to jump off the chair as he did before. Now, he could just stand on tiptoe to get off the chair.

Viserys now looked at the Sea Lord of Braavos, waiting for him to continue speaking.

And at that moment,

Oberyn, who was sitting off to the side, was the first to raise his hand and interrupt the conversation. Among the three forces at the table, the Targaryens were undoubtedly the weakest, and Dorne might not necessarily fear Braavos.

"There's really no need for pleasantries, Lord of the Sea, and Viserys."

The Prince of Dorne looked at the young king and then at the Sea Lord of Braavos, nodding slightly with a sincere, candid demeanor.

"Why not get straight to the point?"

...

A secret discussion involving the whole of Westeros was unfolding in the Sea Lord's bedroom in Braavos.

The three parties sitting there represented three major interest groups, and Viserys had the least say among them.

It wasn't because his youth made it hard for him to be taken seriously; it was because the remnants of the Targaryen power he represented were so weak that it was difficult for him to gain much respect from the Prince of Dorne and the Sea Lord of Braavos.

But Viserys did not give up trying to gain some benefits.

The young king made a request at the negotiating table, hoping to gain Braavos' support. In exchange for that support, he was willing to cede some of his interests to them.

The sun was setting.

Unknowingly, half a day had passed, and the glow of the setting sun cast long shadows on the figures on the half-open balcony.

The Sea Lord's First Sword was still standing outside the bedroom door, and children were playing in the garden below. He had heard the conversations inside the room but remained silent.

As the personal guard of the Sea Lord, Syrio Forel knew too many secrets and shocking conspiracies.

He knew how to live longer.

The scope of this conspiracy was actually quite broad, involving the Golden Company, a former Hand of the King who had been exiled across the Narrow Sea, an informant hidden in King's Landing, a governor in Pentos, and more...

Together, they conspired to overthrow Robert Baratheon's rule of the Iron Throne.

The red clouds of the setting sun illuminated the First Sword 's armor, his messy hair, and his straight posture. His eyes blinked and then squinted, seemingly a bit tired.

It was then that the Sea Lord's voice came from inside the bedroom.

"Syrio."

The First Sword , who had been about to yawn, was startled by the sudden voice and lost all traces of fatigue.

He hurriedly adjusted the hilt of the sword at his waist and slapped his cheeks to wake himself up, fearing that the Sea Lord would notice his drowsiness. Then, he finally entered the room.

"My lord."

Syrio entered the room after pushing open the door.

"Syrio, instruct the servants to prepare a family feast in the ballroom."

The Sea Lord remained seated behind the table, looking a bit pale and tired from the long conversation. Ferrego Antaryon rubbed his nose and spoke.

The good news was that the outcome of the secret talks had been decided.

Young King Viserys Targaryen, representing his family and Dragonstone, signed his name on the document.

The Sea Lord of Braavos also stamped his seal, and Prince Oberyn signed as well, but he only wrote his own name, not that of House Martell.

Even if the plan went awry and was exposed in the future, Oberyn would not fear retribution from the Iron Throne. Since he was not the ruler of Sunspear, he could claim to be opposing the Iron Throne in his own name, seeking vengeance for his sister.

Such events were common in the history of Westeros, and the separation of family and individual was not unusual.

Without sufficient evidence, whether the Iron Throne would blame and implicate his family depended on the strength of his family.

Coincidentally, the power of House Martell was enough to make the Iron Throne relent on Oberyn's 'stubborn character' in this matter.

After the three parties signed the 'pact,' the document was carefully collected by the Sea Lord of Braavos himself and stored in Braavos' most top-secret archive, where the defense forces were second only to the Iron Bank.

Chapter 71: Hidden Intentions

The binding power of this "pact" was essentially worthless, serving only as an endorsement for the future. However, if anything went wrong, apart from Viserys, the other two could make up other reasons to cover themselves.

As long as Oberyn wasn't directly captured by the Iron Throne, House Martell could shield his "willfulness." As for the Sea Lord of Braavos, he used his own seal, so Braavos could claim that the seal was lost, and the whole thing was a setup.

Only Viserys had truly signed his name on the document, leaving no room for alterations or excuses. But he was the only one without an escape route; besides toppling Baratheon rule and reclaiming the Iron Throne, Viserys had no other options.

Even if Robert were to die at the tusks of a boar, Viserys would still need to find a temporary base where he could develop and stay out of sight, without constantly dancing before the enemy.

As a result, his gaze was bound to look beyond Westeros. He had discussed this with his "Hand of the King," Ser Joffrey, before leaving Dragonstone.

Fortunately, the Targaryen fleet could cross the seas. Viserys decided to tactically abandon Dragonstone, seeking a foothold on the continent of Essos, across the Narrow Sea. Strategically, Dragonstone would still serve as a stepping stone, with Westeros being the ultimate target of his future plans.

For the young king, this "relocation" decision was nothing short of bold, as it meant breaking the Targaryen foundation and leading his family back to their now entirely unfamiliar "homeland." Viserys' mother, Queen Rhaella, hesitated to make such a decision during her lifetime, unwilling to give up Dragonstone, the "place of dragon rise," which held great significance for House Targaryen.

However, Viserys was more level-headed, lacking his mother's deeply rooted obsession with their family legacy. From a different perspective, the scenery he saw was vastly different.

Thus, during the confidential meeting, he boldly expressed his stance, hoping to gain Braavos' public support, even if it meant sacrificing some interests. As expected, Viserys' request failed. Braavos couldn't openly support the Targaryen restoration, as that would mean the huge loans they had extended would become bad debts and be uncollectible.

Yet, after the Sea Lord of Braavos refused his request, Viserys was not discouraged. He quickly proposed another, more modest request.

He would not seek Braavos' public support; he only needed Braavos to tacitly allow House Targaryen to return to their homeland without interference.

This demand wasn't excessive, as it didn't require Braavos to sacrifice any interests – just to turn a blind eye and provide an explanation to the Iron Throne.

After much deliberation, the Sea Lord of Braavos agreed to Viserys' request and included it in the terms. For Braavos, their bottom line was that they would never openly support the Targaryens. However, they could still secretly support the Targaryens in disrupting Westeros' peace through low-interest or interest-free loans.

In truth, for Braavos, their love for peace and respect for bloodlines were mere hypocritical excuses. A civil war in the Seven Kingdoms better served their interests, leading to Westeros' fragmentation and a return to the state before Aegon's Conquest.

They would even prefer that each region emulate their system and values, becoming a series of free-trade city-states.

In this way, the Iron Bank could amass vast sums of gold, draining the continent of its last copper under the guise of assistance.

Thus, in the end, the Sea Lord of Braavos, Ferrego, agreed to Viserys' request. Braavos could "tacitly permit" House Targaryen to return to their homeland, and with a broad stroke, marked a territory on the map.

...

At dusk.

The Sea Lord's banquet still needed some time to prepare, and the sky had not yet darkened.

After the secret meeting, Viserys and Prince Oberyn of Dorne left the Sea Lord's bedroom, walking side by side in the corridor. Their footsteps echoed clearly, and the passing servants stopped to pay their respects when they saw the two of them.

At that moment.

"Your Grace?"

Oberyn walked beside the young king and glanced at him before speaking abruptly.

"Please speak, Prince."

Compared to Oberyn's frivolity, Viserys had always been polite, addressing the other as a prince or by his name. In contrast, Oberyn had been calling Viserys "little fellow" all along.

This was the first time Oberyn had addressed Viserys as 'Your Grace,' which felt a bit strange to him.

"No, it was just a casual remark. I think calling you by your name is just fine."

However, Oberyn shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm just curious what it feels like to be called 'king' at such a young age."

"A king who can't even kill a chicken?"

Oberyn stroked his chin beard slightly.

Viserys tilted his head when he heard Oberyn's words, his pale purple eyes reflecting the tall, lean figure. But he wasn't angry, he just nodded and calmly replied.

"Actually, I can kill a chicken, Prince Oberyn."

In fact, at the age of eight, Viserys had already killed four people, including the brother of one Tywin Lannister, and even participated in a war.

"As for the feeling of being called 'king'..."

Viserys pondered for a moment.

"I think it's not too different from the feeling you get in a brothel when women call you 'brave.'"

Oberyn's face clearly showed a touch of astonishment upon hearing Viserys' words.

"This..."

He didn't expect the good-tempered young king to have such a sharp retort.

But rather than getting angry, Oberyn chuckled and patted Viserys on the shoulder.

"An interesting lad."

...

Viserys and Oberyn walked and talked together.

From behind, the pair did resemble a pair of real brothers, with an older brother accompanying his younger sibling.

However, as a member of the salty Dornish people, Oberyn's skin was slightly darker, while Viserys was much fairer, with dazzling silver-gold hair. The two had quite a significant difference in appearance.

"Actually, you did quite well at the negotiation table, Viserys."

"If my daughter were of suitable status, I would genuinely want her to marry you."

Afterward, Oberyn glanced at the young king and started another conversation.

...

Chapter 72: Setting Aside the Marriage Proposal

Oberyn was quite impressed by Viserys' recent performance at the negotiation table, even finding it somewhat eye-opening.

However, his comment about marrying off his daughter was more of a joke than anything else. He had no plans to do so, and Viserys had grown accustomed to Oberyn's unfiltered manner of speaking.

Nevertheless, Viserys couldn't understand why hearing Oberyn's words didn't lift his spirits. He remained silent for a moment before responding with a puzzled question.

"What's wrong with your daughter's status?"

As a prince of Dorne, it was unlikely that there could be any issue with Oberyn's daughter's status.

"Oh, they're all my bastards."

Oberyn shrugged nonchalantly, not bothering to hide anything.

In Westeros, aside from Dorne, bastards were often seen as a stain on a family's honor. Even though it had become customary, nobles still tried to keep it under wraps.

But Dorne was different from other regions, with its relatively equal inheritance system for men and women, paramours holding a certain social standing, and more liberal attitudes towards sexuality compared to other regions.

Viserys said nothing in response, and Oberyn also uncharacteristically remained silent for a while. Finally, they stopped at the fork in the hallway.

At this point, Viserys and Oberyn would part ways, with Viserys' assigned bedroom being in the opposite direction.

"Think about it. Arianne is a good girl."

Oberyn took a deep breath and patted Viserys on the shoulder.

As he was about to turn and head towards his own bedroom, he seemed to remember something and paused.

"By the way, Viserys, I'll accompany you back to Dragonstone. I want to see the child my sister and that bastard had."

That bastard was undoubtedly Viserys' older brother, Rhaegar Targaryen, and the child Rhaegar and Oberyn's sister had together was Rhaenys.

Oberyn hadn't seen his niece yet due to his travels around the continent of Essos. With plenty of time on his hands, he wanted to use this opportunity to visit Rhaenys with Viserys on their return to Dragonstone.

"Alright, I understand."

Viserys stood still, watching Oberyn's retreating figure. The man's tall, slender frame resembled a twisted snake's shadow under the setting sun's red haze.

The young king sighed softly.

In their earlier conversation, Oberyn and Viserys had mentioned the conditions for Dorne's secret pact with House Targaryen.

Dorne would not unconditionally support Viserys' eventual return to Westeros to reclaim the Iron Throne.

Dorne's condition was simple: Viserys must marry Prince Doran's eldest daughter, Princess Arianne Martell, as his queen in exchange for their support.

However, Viserys opposed this proposal, not wanting to make such a hasty decision about his lifelong commitment.

Furthermore, based on his knowledge of Arianne Martell, Viserys naturally did not want his future wife to be such a woman.

But he couldn't think of better terms to satisfy Dorne at the moment.

Unless he offered his infant sister, Daenerys, to fulfill the marriage alliance with House Martell instead, having her marry the now three-year-old eldest son of Prince Doran, Quentyn Martell, in the future.

Viserys found this alternative equally unacceptable.

...

So, in the end, Viserys found a reason to temporarily postpone his engagement to Princess Arianne Martell.

"I'm only eight years old now. This is something for ten years later. Why don't we discuss this issue at that time?"

...

Night.

A small family feast was held in the Seaking's Palace.

The wife and children of the Braavosi Sea Lord, Ferrego Antaryon, attended the banquet, mainly welcoming distinguished guests from Dragonstone and Dorne on a private basis.

After attending this family feast of the Sea Lord, Viserys finally returned to his bedroom, dragging his tired body.

Thump—

He threw himself onto the bed, collapsing into a big starfish shape, and then didn't want to move at all. He just wanted to merge himself into the soft bed, never to part.

"So tired."

For the young king, it wasn't just physical fatigue but also the pressure he bore mentally.

In fact, although Viserys was nominally the 'young king,' he always maintained a cautious and gingerly attitude when facing any situation.

For in front of him lay a thousand cliffs and ravines, and he was like a lost mountaineer, who would fall into the abyss at the slightest misstep.

Just as Robert on the Iron Throne could afford to fail because he had the capital to bear failure.

But Viserys didn't have that; he couldn't allow himself to fail. He had to remain vigilant all the time, constantly reminding himself to tread carefully.

A small victory, a little gain was not enough to make him overjoyed, for he feared that he would lose his most basic composure.

Then, in his elation, he would make a fatal mistake, and his previous efforts would go down the drain, and even risk losing his life.

However, at this moment,

Viserys lay on the dark, soft bed, and the joy in his heart was somewhat hard to suppress.

Because this was another 'small victory' he had achieved after the Battle of Whispering Sound, and this time it was a victory won without a single blade or bullet, achieved at the negotiating table.

"Your Grace."

At this moment, the door to the young king's bedroom was knocked on. It was one of Viserys's guards who knocked.

The guard then walked in with a tray, on which stood a steaming cup of mint tea, several neatly arranged biscuits, and a small dish of cream. He placed it on the table and was about to leave.

"Mond, help me find the map of the Free Cities."

Viserys saw that the guard had brought him some supper, but still lay on the bed without moving, as if he had died. He spoke with his head muffled by the pillow.

Mond, the guard, hesitated when he heard Viserys's words.

He was not aware of the results of Viserys's negotiations and therefore didn't know why the young king suddenly needed the map.

"Understood."

But he still agreed, then went out and found the map of the western coast of the Essos continent from the stack of maps they had.

The nine Free Cities were concentrated in this area, while the vast Dothraki Sea was in the center of the Essos continent.

Viserys then sat at the desk in his bedroom, lit the white wax on the table, and the fire illuminated the few inches of space on the table.

Rustle—

Viserys spread out the entire map, and his light purple eyes locked onto a position on the map with bright and focused determination.

"Pentos." .

Chapter 73: Farewell

The night was deep.

The family banquet held by the Sea Lord of Braavos had already ended quite late.

But Viserys didn't hurry to rest after returning to his chamber; instead, he had the guards bring a map of the western coast of the Essos continent.

Rustle—

It was then fully unfolded and spread across the table.

"Andals."

The half-burnt candle on the table burned quietly as the young king's hands rested on the table, his piercing gaze locked on a location on the map.

"Right here..."

Viserys pointed at the map, which was directly south of Braavos, east of the Narrow Sea, along the Braavosi coast, with the Norvos Mountains to the east and the Velvet Hills to the west.

And this place named Andals, which Viserys was pointing at, was situated amidst these surrounding hills and mountains, a vast plain that stretched out to the sea, with no end in sight.

What Viserys had negotiated for at the table was such a piece of unclaimed land, which the Sea Lord of Braavos generously granted to the Targaryen family.

In reality, however, due to the unique city-state system, Braavosi merchant ships sailed all the oceans, but they had little interest in the nearby Andals plains, so their influence on this piece of land wasn't significant.

The Andals plains, although the homeland of the Andal people, had been mostly wiped of their cultural traces due to migration and invasion.

Now, only a few impoverished villages remained on this land. There were no mines underground, and the sparse population made it a place of little interest with no profit to be extracted.

Still, the Sea Lord of Braavos eventually handed over this land with little development potential to Viserys.

It was called assistance, but in fact, this place sandwiched between Braavos and Pentos posed the problem of dealing with the Governor of Pentos.

However, despite this, Viserys was still overjoyed.

Having received the endorsement and backing of Braavos, it meant that the Targaryen family had secured a 'ticket' to the nine Free Cities.

"This is what matters most."

Viserys exhaled softly, clenching his fists. Although he had already seen the location of Andals on the map in the Sea Lord's bedroom, Viserys still wanted to see it again.

Because this abandoned land between Pentos and Braavos would be his foothold on the Essos continent.

Even a young dragon needed a sky to soar in order to eventually grow into a ruler overlooking the land.

Otherwise, trapped in a narrow dragon's lair, it would face the same fate as the last dragon of the Targaryen family: deformed, unable to breed, dying in its youth, with its small bones barely the size of a human child.

...

Since it wasn't easy to come here, Viserys, disguised, took the opportunity to explore Braavos over the next few days.

He first visited the House of Black and White, the temple dedicated to the Many-Faced God, which was built from dark gray stone and situated atop a small rocky hill.

The temple was unassuming yet profound, with no windows to let in light. The pointed roof was covered with black tiles, and the doors of the House of Black and White were a pair of twelve-foot-tall carved wooden doors.

To the left, a door made of weirwood, white as bone, and to the right, a door of faintly glowing ebony.

At the center of the black and white doors of the House of Black and White, a moon was carved with ebony inlaid into the weirwood, and weirwood into the ebony, seemingly containing a hidden rhythm.

Stone steps led from the entrance of the House of Black and White down to the docks below.

Boats constantly flowed through the waterway below, yet few people truly entered the House of Black and White to pray silently by the pool.

Viserys then left the House of Black and White and went to visit the Temple of the Moon Singers. Due to historical reasons, the Temple of the Moon Singers was now the most magnificent and popular temple in Braavos.

A grand, snow-white marble palace with a silver dome, the milky glass windows displayed the various phases of the moon. By each door, a pair of tall marble maidens stood as tall as the statues of the sea god in Braavos, supporting a crescent-shaped beam.

However, Viserys did not enter the Temple of the Moon Singers, for there were too many people, and he feared encountering any problems.

So, he merely paused for a moment on the ship and left without even disembarking.

The best brothels and taverns in Braavos were located near the Purple Harbor and Moon Pool.

At night, the finest swordsmen of Braavos would gather by the Moon Pool to showcase their skills, while the Purple Harbor was brightly lit, presenting a bustling scene.

Huge flower boats sailed across the water of the Purple Harbor, and milk and fine wine were poured into the water, creating an extravagant, dazzling display.

These were the famous courtesans of Braavos, whose status here far exceeded that in other cities. Each stunning courtesan had her own flower boat and servants.

Their beauty was celebrated in songs, goldsmiths and jewelers vied to craft items for them, artisans begged for their patronage, and trading tycoons paid ransoms fit for royalty just to hold their arms at balls, feasts, and theatrical performances. Even assassins fought in their names.

Time passed quickly,

And after spending a few days in Braavos, Viserys had seen some eye-opening sights, reminiscent of the extravagance he had experienced in his past life.

However, that was all there was to it, and only a few days had passed.

Finally, another merchant ship backed by the Braavosi government had loaded its cargo and was about to set sail for King's Landing.

They would still follow the previous route, first arriving at Pentos, then passing Dragonstone, and finally reaching King's Landing.

"Let's go."

Viserys and his companions, including Oberyn, were secretly arranged by the Sealord of Braavos to board this merchant ship and set sail back to Dragonstone.

Splish-splash—

The two-masted ship hoisted its sails, and the oarsmen below rowed vigorously, breaking through the waves and finally passing the Titan of Braavos with its raised broken sword.

Whoosh…

The wind roared.

Faintly, Viserys seemed to hear the Titan's roar once again, as if bidding him farewell.

And so, the merchant ship officially left Braavos and sailed into the open sea.

Chapter 74: Return to Dragonstone

Sunrise and moonrise.

It had been over a month since they had set sail on the open sea.

Viserys's journey back by ship this time was much smoother than before, with only a brief delay due to a minor storm. Soon, they arrived safely at Dragonstone.

Ser Joffrey, Lady Rhaenys, and the others in the castle were already waiting for them at the docks.

"Your Grace."

The young king was wearing form-fitting armor, with an exquisitely crafted fur shoulder mantle. A dark cape draped behind him, his silver-gold curls resting upon the fur. He wore brown deer-hide gloves and held the railing as he descended from the ship.

It had been less than three months since Ser Joffrey had last seen Viserys, but the boy seemed to have changed tremendously once more.

His beautiful pale purple eyes had become more composed and steady, unflappable.

His once fair and delicate skin had darkened, perhaps due to sun exposure during their time at sea. And, unless it was Ser Joffrey's imagination, the young king's body seemed stronger than before.

Although it was now mid-October in the year 284 AC, Viserys's eighth nameday had recently passed on the ship.

At the age of eight, Viserys appeared more like an eleven or twelve-year-old, far stronger than his peers.

"Fate is fickle."

"But His Grace truly is a good child..."

Sofia, the old maid who had accompanied Queen Rhaella to Dragonstone, watched Viserys disembark from the ship with mixed emotions.

She had served House Targaryen in the Red Keep for many years and had seen Viserys grow from birth. She still remembered his hasty departure from the Red Keep.

Back then, Viserys was thin and frail, like a little chick, a far cry from his current appearance.

"Your Grace."

"Ser Joffrey."

Viserys disembarked and shook hands with the old knight.

He then turned to look at the tall, thin man who followed him off the ship.

His gaze, however, locked onto a brown-haired girl nearby, who was holding a maid's hand. The maid, in turn, was cradling an infant in her arms.

"This is Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."

Viserys introduced Oberyn to Ser Joffrey but noticed that the older man was not looking at him, instead, staring intently at Rhaenys.

Upon hearing Viserys's words, Ser Joffrey was slightly startled. He had been wondering who this man was, why the young king's entourage had grown, and who was the woman in chains holding a child.

Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that this tall, thin man with slightly dark skin and a thin layer of stubble on his cheeks was Prince Oberyn Martell, the 'Red Viper' of Dorne.

"Nice to meet you, Prince Oberyn."

Ser Joffrey stood on the dock, his white hair disheveled by the sea breeze, and extended a hand, which hung in mid-air.

Oberyn, who had been staring at Rhaenys, quickly came to his senses and gave Ser Joffrey an apologetic smile, extending his hand as well.

"I've heard your name long ago."

Snap—

The two hands clasped tightly together, then let go.

"Oh? The prince has actually heard of my name?"

The old knight was somewhat surprised that Oberyn had heard of his name. Although he had been knighted, he had always served in the fleet of Dragonstone and had neither land nor wife. He had not expected Oberyn to have heard of him.

"Yes, in Tyrosh."

"Your name is well-known to many, even after all these years."

Oberyn shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his dark eyes fixed on the white-haired old man before him. Although the man was advanced in age, Oberyn did not dare to underestimate him.

This time, as Oberyn's words fell, the old knight fell silent for a long time.

Viserys had been listening to the conversation between the two, and it was clear to him that the old knight had made quite a name for himself in his youth but was now unwilling to talk about it.

Tyrosh?

Located on a large island north of the Stepstones, it was not far from the disputed lands' coast.

However, thinking about the old knight's age and his youth...

Viserys hesitated, thinking of a bold possibility – had the old knight participated in the War of the Ninepenny Kings in his youth?

But this was merely a bold guess by Viserys, with no evidence and no way to trace the origin. If the old knight was unwilling to mention it, there must have been a reason.

Viserys glanced at the old knight, then looked at Oberyn and spoke.

"Since that's the case, it's getting late."

"Let's head back to the castle."

Viserys looked up at the sky. It was already evening when the Braavosi merchant ship had docked, and now the sky had completely darkened. The soldiers had already lit their torches.

At this moment, Rhaenys clung to Viserys' leg. Perhaps he had been gone for too long, and for a four-year-old girl, three months was already a very long time.

So much so that her initial gaze at Viserys was somewhat unfamiliar and timid. After watching Viserys talk with the old knight and others, she regained some familiarity and walked over to hug Viserys.

The young king's heart softened as he lifted his hand and stroked Rhaenys' hair. He then turned to continue instructing his servant.

"Sophia, we have important guests tonight. Prepare a feast immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The old maid quickly agreed upon hearing Viserys' order.

Viserys nodded and then swept his gaze over the crowd behind him.

"Hm?"

Only then did he notice a young, unfamiliar face among the welcoming party, dressed in a maester's gray robes, with three heavy metal chains around his neck, made of black iron, bronze, and silver.

"Who is this?"

Viserys stopped and asked.

"My name is Gunther, Your Majesty."

The young maester showed no hesitation, bowed slightly, and explained.

"I studied astronomy under Maester Veylin and have earned the chains of ravenry and healing."

"The Citadel received the tragic news of Maester Daniel and sent me to serve at Dragonstone."

.

Chapter 75: The Struggle in the Citadel

"What?"

Upon hearing the words of the young maester, Viserys' expression turned peculiar.

"This..."

Now that he thought about it, Maester Deniel had been gone for over half a year, and this successor sent by the Citadel had taken a full half year to reach Dragonstone.

Wasn't that a bit too slow?

Viserys suppressed the urge to make a sarcastic remark.

The young maester named Gunthor seemed to notice the surprise written on the little king's face and hastily began to explain.

In fact, after receiving the news of the old maester's death on Dragonstone, a fierce debate had broken out within the Citadel. The two sides could not agree on whether or not a new maester should be sent to Dragonstone under the current circumstances.

One side believed that the system should be changed. As an extension of politics, they should follow the Iron Throne's will and refuse to send new maesters to serve the remnants of House Targaryen on Dragonstone.

Since the Citadel had previously sent a white raven to warn Dragonstone of the impending storm, which ultimately led to the destruction of the royal fleet, the Iron Throne remained deeply displeased with the Citadel.

The other side argued that the Citadel should have no political inclinations, and their primary job was to serve all of Westeros.

Wearing a maester's chain symbolized that the maester was a servant of all Westeros, and Dragonstone was part of that domain. Therefore, a new maester should be sent to serve Dragonstone.

During this time, the Citadel was embroiled in heated debates and even arguments over the matter. Even Grand Maester Pycelle, who was in King's Landing, sent a letter to personally inquire about the situation.

Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch also learned of the news through correspondence with the Citadel and sent a letter expressing his opinion.

However, it was clear that Maester Aemon and Grand Maester Pycelle stood on two different sides.

Due to these reasons, the Citadel did not immediately send a new maester to replace the old one.

The dispute had finally reached its conclusion, with the "conservative" faction gaining the upper hand. They stubbornly believed that maesters should not have any political inclinations and should uphold the Citadel's fine traditions.

Thus, in the end, they sent Maester Gunthor, a student of an astronomy Grand Maester, to succeed the late Maester Deniel and serve as the new servant of Dragonstone.

"So that's what happened."

As Viserys listened to Maester Gunthor's explanation, he nodded thoughtfully.

He had not expected the old maester's death to spark a war of words among maesters in Oldtown, thousands of miles away.

In truth, he knew little about the Citadel itself, only that each discipline within the Citadel was led by a renowned figure known as a Grand Maester.

From Gunthor's words, Viserys could infer that his teacher, the Archmaester Varylin, who wore a bronze mask, ring, and held a scepter, was on the side of the "conservatives."

And it seemed that his great-uncle, Maester Aemon, was also aware of the matter.

Viserys pursed his lips slightly, then looked out at the distant sea. If given the chance, he would truly like to consult face-to-face with that wise and respected old man.

However, he believed that the old man was currently being tested for his loyalty to his vows in Castle Black, enduring the most difficult moments of his life.

At this moment.

The long wall and stone steps led straight to Dragonstone. A group of people surrounded Viserys as they walked, holding high their lit torches, resembling a long dragon. The firelight illuminated the path ahead.

Viserys continued to chat with the new maester as they walked, learning all of this from Gunthor's words.

However, it seemed that Maester Gunthor's dream of serving Dragonstone might soon be shattered.

At night.

The air of late autumn carried a distinct chill.

The fur of the wolf pelt draped over the young king's shoulders fluttered slightly, brushing the boy's cheek. Viserys glanced at Maester Gunthor, whose hair was also disheveled by the wind.

Who could have imagined?

Upon his arrival at Dragonstone, he would be swept away by his own plans.

The importance of a maester to a noble was unquestionable, and Viserys had gone too long without one to consult. Now that one had arrived, he couldn't let him slip away.

...

The feast at Dragonstone was held primarily to welcome Prince Oberyn's arrival, but it also helped introduce Oberyn and Rhaenys, an uncle and niece pair.

The real business, however, wasn't discussed at the feast. After all, too many people meant too much gossip. Even though the traitors within Dragonstone had been rooted out and eliminated during a recent rebellion, Viserys still didn't feel secure.

The day after the feast.

Morning.

In the top-floor map room of Dragonstone.

Viserys, dressed neatly with his belt fastened, bore a black, three-headed dragon emblem on his chest, woven from red and black threads, its edges outlined in gold.

He sat at the head of the map table, his back against a spacious stone balcony. Brilliant sunlight streamed in, casting the boy's shadow across the oppressive castle interior. Half of his handsome face was illuminated by the sun. His elbow rested on a cold armrest, and his fingers tapped lightly on the table.

Splish-splash—

Seated in the map room, one could clearly hear the waves crashing against the rocks below, and feel the salty, slightly bitter sea breeze.

On either side of Viserys sat Sir Joffrey, commander of Dragonstone's fleet, and on his right, Dornish Prince 'Red Viper' Oberyn.

Maester Gunthor, who had joined Dragonstone only two months after Viserys' departure, was not present at this royal council meeting.

He was still sorting through the documents left behind by the former maester in the Sea Dragon Tower.

It wasn't that Viserys was overly cautious or distrusting of the young, newly-joined maester. Rather, it was the least he could do to protect Gunthor and the allies who had forged this pact.

"Our landing point will be here."

A map of the Free Cities was spread out on the table, and Viserys' finger pointed to a location – the Andal plains.

His finger then traced across the map, stopping west of the Norvos Mountains, at the source of the Upper Rhoyne River.

This area boasted ample water resources and a major road leading directly to Lys and Braavos.

Furthermore, traveling downstream on the Upper Rhoyne connected directly to Norvos, Qohor, and Volantis by water, making it an important transportation hub.

The young king marked the spot on the map with a red X, setting the foundation.

"Next, we'll build a castle at this location."

Chapter 76: The King Favored by the Gods

Viserys had spent a long time on the returning ship, contemplating the strategic relocation plan. He eventually decided to temporarily set the location at the starting point of the River Lorne.

However, this place was far from the coast of Braavos, and the fleet Viserys relied on could not play a role on land. They could only rely on the sailors disembarking to fight, which was undoubtedly giving up their advantage.

Fortunately, according to Viserys' understanding, there were no powerful forces on the Andal plain.

At most, there were only some bandits and mountain thieves, as well as the Andal villagers who had lived on this land for generations.

Viserys led thousands of well-equipped Targaryen naval forces, and even if they fought on land, conquering these bandits and villages should not pose a significant problem.

"Of course, we're not going to give up Dragonstone immediately," Viserys continued.

"We can gradually lead the people across the Narrow Sea in stages and build our homes on the eastern continent."

After all, a city cannot be built in a day, and even if Viserys spent a fortune hiring a large number of laborers, it wouldn't be easy.

So this was a major project that would take many years, and since Baelor the Blessed did not have a navy to attack Dragonstone at present, it was the best opportunity for them to get through this difficult time.

When Baelor the Blessed had accumulated enough strength to attack Dragonstone again, they would find that the island had long been emptied by Viserys.

However, Viserys was only proposing a plan. It didn't mean that he would make the decision alone. It still needed to go through the royal council's discussion to determine the best outcome.

"Do the two of you have any good suggestions for the upcoming plan?" Viserys' gaze swept over Prince Oberyn, who was sitting casually in his chair, and the serious and contemplative old knight on his left.

"Feel free to share your thoughts."

Viserys was good at listening to others' opinions and wouldn't be a dictator, nor could he be one.

Although the young king always sat on the throne, the real power of the Dragonstone navy was still in the hands of fleet commander Ser Joffrey. Viserys had never forgotten this and constantly reminded himself to stay clear-headed.

Of course, this didn't mean that Viserys was worried that the old knight would rebel. In fact, besides the Master-at-Arms of the Red Keep, the person he trusted the most was Ser Joffrey.

Without these two, he might have already died.

However, although the current commander of the Dragonstone fleet wholeheartedly supported the young king, it didn't mean that the old knight would always agree with Viserys on everything.

This was a crucial difference.

The old man had always placed himself in the position of a "regent," feeling that he should exhaust his efforts and take on more responsibility.

So, on some critical issues, if there were significant disagreements between the young king and the "hand of the king," the final say would still fall into the latter's hands.

Because the command of the fleet was in his hands, it would be extremely difficult for Viserys to reclaim that power.

The old man only needed to say, "Your Grace is still young, and I'm doing this for your own good. When you grow up, you'll understand," and he could push back anything Viserys wanted to say.

That was the real environment in which Viserys currently lived.

And when they were in Braavos, when Oberyn asked Viserys how it felt to be called a "king" at such a young age, he was actually asking about this very issue.

Viserys cleverly answered Oberyn's question.

However, faced with such a predicament, Viserys did not confront the old knight, Ser Joffrey, for command of the fleet, as the old knight was loyal to House Targaryen and acted with good intentions.

But Viserys didn't completely give up either. He worked hard to gain more influence and control over some of his own power.

This was one of the reasons why he had convinced himself to take the risk and travel to Braavos.

Fortunately, the young king's gamble paid off.

He achieved the desired results in Braavos, securing the backing and support of both Braavos and Dorne.

Now, Viserys' power base was not solely dependent on the Dragonstone fleet; he also had the support of Dorne and Braavos.

Although he couldn't fully control these powers, breaking free from reliance on a single force indirectly increased the young king's influence.

Just like the current situation.

Prince Oberyn of Dorne sat at Viserys' right hand. Although he remained silent, Ser Joffrey had no choice but to consider the prince's opinion.

Viserys could find a moment to breathe and maintain balance among these three powerful forces, gradually gaining control over his own influence.

"Your Grace."

The white-haired old man had been silent for a long time. He first looked up at Prince Oberyn of Dorne, who was sitting across from him, picking his teeth. Then he turned his gaze to Viserys and broke the silence in the council chamber.

"Andals come from Andalos, and you are the rightful king of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men."

"As the king, you have the right to all territories and the ultimate decision-making power. The Andals and their land should be subject to you, so taking back this land is legally unassailable."

Ser Joffrey found the legal justification for Viserys to conquer and occupy the land of Andalos.

"Moreover, it is said that this place is the birthplace of the Seven Gods."

"The Seven descended on this land, blessing the Andals. The Father plucked seven stars from the sky to make a crown for the first king of Andalos, the King of the Hills, Hugor."

"You seek the holy relics in Andalos to ask the Seven for answers on how to save beggars, commoners, nobles, and all beings suffering under the oppression of usurpers."

"Your Grace, you are the king favored by the gods!"

The old knight's powerful voice echoed in the silent council chamber.

"The Seven will crown you once again! You will lead their faithful followers to reunite the Andals' homeland until you return to Westeros."

"Eliminate the suffering of all beings and restore the glory of the Seven, untainted by the despicable usurpers."

"You are the messenger who carries out the divine will!"

...

A month later.

The old knight's resounding voice still seemed to linger in his ears.

Horn blasts sounded over the turbulent sea, stirring the blood with their melancholic melody.

The Targaryen three-headed dragon banner fluttered in the wind as countless ships formed battle formations, cutting through the waves.

And in the distance, the outline of the continent was barely visible.

Chapter 77: Shadow Pumas

In the endless green fields, a young boy clad in animal hide and carrying a bow with arrows on his back lay low in the grass, cautiously parting the foliage before him.

The boy's skin was slightly dark, and he appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. His body was exceptionally agile, with a seven-pointed star emblem etched on his muscular arm.

At that moment, the young boy was eyeing an adult male deer grazing on the grass not far away, separated from its herd. His breathing quickened with excitement.

If he could successfully hunt and skin the deer, he could sell the hide to a passing merchant caravan and earn enough money to feed his family for a month.

However, just as the boy's breathing grew labored and his thoughts raced, the deer seemed to sense something and cautiously raised its head.

"Damn."

The boy's heart tightened at the sight, and he immediately held his breath. He knew that these creatures were highly alert, and the slightest disturbance could scare them away.

"Hey, Bessie."

"What are you doing?"

Suddenly, a face appeared in front of the boy, startling him so much that his heart nearly stopped.

With a rustling sound, the grass trembled, and the grazing deer, without a moment's hesitation, bolted away.

The boy named Bessie, frustrated by the missed opportunity and angered by his friend's sudden appearance, grabbed his friend by the collar and yelled into his ear.

"Mil, you bastard!"

The boy named Mil, who had just played the prank, quickly covered his ears and begged for forgiveness, fearing that his companion's shouting would deafen him.

"Bessie, I'm sorry, I really didn't see..."

As the two boys continued to scuffle, an earth-shattering roar erupted from the nearby forest.

A ferocious beast with black-striped fur suddenly burst out from the trees, swiftly pouncing on the fleeing deer.

"What is that..."

The two boys, who had been arguing moments before, were stunned by the sight. Their hands froze in place, not daring to move.

It turned out that when Bessie had set his sights on the lone deer, another terrifying predator had been watching as well.

Bessie and Mil's scuffle had startled the deer, causing it to run and prompting the beast to believe it had been discovered, and so it gave chase.

"It's... a Shadow Puma!"

Although the beast was incredibly fast, Bessie, with the seven-pointed star emblem on his arm, immediately recognized the true identity of the creature.

It was the rare and elusive Shadow Puma, typically found in mountainous terrain. The valuable hide of this magnificent beast was worth a fortune.

Meanwhile, Mil, the boy who had played the prank earlier, looked terrified, gripping his companion's arm.

"Hey, Bessie, I just saved you!"

Shadow Pumas were not to be trifled with. Although they wouldn't usually attack humans unless they were extremely hungry.

However, the opponent was still one of the rulers of the forest, strong, ferocious, and extremely fast, with exceptionally sharp claws and the ability to climb trees.

There was almost no chance of survival once targeted by it in the wooded terrain.

Just now, this shadowcat had also set its sights on a stag. If his companion Bessie tried to hunt the deer without knowing the danger, and those gloomy eyes still hid in the shadows, observing quietly, then Bessie's fate would be extremely grim.

Young Myles didn't have the courage to face the shadowcat; his legs felt weak when he saw it pounce from the darkness.

However, Bessie didn't say a word, watching the chase and escape, then clenched his teeth.

He knew that shadowcat fur was incredibly valuable; if they could successfully hunt it...

Bessie's family was in a dire situation, living in the nearby Andal settlement.

Not long ago, his father had been killed by members of the Brotherhood while returning from selling goods in a nearby town. His body was found days later and brought back to the village for burial.

With the family's main support gone, Bessie's household was in desperate need of money...

"Chase it!"

Young Bessie clenched his teeth, and then finally made up his mind, running after the shadowcat and stag.

"Hey, Bessie! What are you doing?"

His companion Myles, seeing this, could only stomp his foot in frustration and follow. He couldn't let his friend chase the ferocious shadowcat alone.

The stag ran ahead, darting into the woods, with the shadowcat in pursuit. This forest was the beast's home turf, and the two teenagers followed closely.

After an unknown amount of time, the shadowcat had disappeared from view.

The two boys continued to follow the tracks left behind, unwilling to give up.

"I can't give up; I need this money."

The young boy clenched his teeth, working hard to follow the trail left by the shadowcat.

They were about to emerge from the woods once more.

But at that moment, Bessie seemed to faintly hear voices coming from outside the forest...

"Prince Oberyn's spear skills are truly incredible."

"He killed a shadowcat without a scratch on him."

Several armored knights tied their horses to tree trunks, hands resting on their sword hilts, discussing the recent events. They gazed at the recently killed shadowcat on the ground, blood still flowing from its wounds, its body not yet stiff.

Not far away, scattered groups of over a hundred Targaryen soldiers sat on the ground or stood nearby, watching the scene.

Just a moment ago, a shadowcat had charged out, seemingly intent on attacking Prince Oberyn while he ate. The Prince of Dorne had quickly grabbed his spear and killed the beast.

The spear had pierced the creature's throat from behind, pinning the male shadowcat to the ground.

Oberyn himself appeared calm, seemingly unaffected by the praise from others. He wiped the blood from his spear with his boot, then removed a knife wrapped in animal hide from his waist.

He skillfully plunged the knife into the shadowcat's belly and then slashed downward, gutting the prey.

In an instant, blood gushed out like it was free.

Having spent time among mercenaries, Oberyn was well-versed in skinning and gutting.

At that moment, nobody noticed that not far away in the woods, two pairs of frightened eyes were watching them.

They quickly vanished from the scene.

Chapter 78: Establishing a Foothold

"Something terrible has happened!"

Bessie and Mille, two young boys, had been traversing the hilly forests for years and were naturally quite familiar with the terrain.

Their strong, agile bodies allowed them to sprint through the woods at a breakneck speed. They soon burst through the forest and returned to the village, shouting loudly.

The commotion caused by the two boys quickly alerted the adult inhabitants of this Andal village. Men wielding shovels and pickaxes rushed out, only to see Bessie and Mille.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"What happened?"

A group of adults surrounded Bessie and Mille, who were still holding makeshift weapons in their hands.

The nearby Andal villages were often subject to raids by bandits and the Brotherhood, and sometimes even attacked by Norrey villages near the Lhoren River.

As a result, every village had its armed forces, spontaneously organizing to protect their homes.

They had assumed that the shouts of the two boys signaled the arrival of more raiders or members of the Brotherhood, but nothing seemed to have happened yet.

"We... we saw a group of them in the North Hills..."

Bessie, the young boy marked with a seven-pointed star, was panting heavily from running, but hurriedly began to explain.

"A group of... uh..."

However, at this point, he faltered, unsure of how to proceed.

These people were well-equipped and uniformed, clearly not members of any Brotherhood. Their armor and shields bore the emblem of a three-headed dragon. Bessie felt a vague sense of familiarity, as though he had heard of it somewhere.

But for the moment, he couldn't recall which noble's coat of arms it was.

"Hey, kid, what exactly did you see?"

"Wolves?"

At that moment, a tall man pushed through the crowd and approached, his arm also marked with a seven-pointed star.

This was an Andal custom, dating back to when the Andals sailed west from Essos and arrived in Westeros. They landed on the Fingers and launched their invasion into the Vale.

Andal warriors would paint or carve the seven-pointed star, representing the Faith of the Seven, onto their skin.

Meanwhile, just outside the noisy village.

The sound of hooves approached...

Several knights on horseback led the charge, arriving at the village's main entrance.

One of them held high a banner bearing the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem, while the others tightly gripped their weapons.

Among the knights was the rare sight of Prince Oberyn in full armor. Although Dragonstone was primarily a naval stronghold with few warhorses, there were still a couple hundred mounts available, including draught horses. About half were warhorses, given to the knights with riding experience.

Following the knights were hundreds of Targaryen soldiers, wearing neat light armor and wielding short swords and shields, as well as double-edged battleaxes and bows and arrows.

Whoosh—

The Targaryen soldiers surrounded the village, drawing their shining swords from their sheaths and raising their shields.

The villagers, witnessing this scene, were thrown into chaos. Adults cried while children wailed, not understanding what was happening.

"Hey, can someone tell me what's going on?"

"Who are they?"

If it had been just a dozen bandits or members of the Brotherhood, the villagers might have mustered the courage to resist.

But now, they were surrounded by hundreds of fully-armed Targaryen soldiers, and even a few knights clad in armor from head to toe.

Their crude weapons and farming tools could not penetrate the knights' armor, leaving them without even a shred of courage to resist.

Prince Oberyn sat astride his horse, one hand holding the reins and the other gripping a long spear.

A pair of pitch-black eyes gazed at the nearby Andal village, appearing somewhat indifferent.

"My lord."

At this moment, a respected elder from the village finally came forward to speak.

Although this Andal village was relatively isolated, there were still merchant caravans passing through, bringing news from the outside world.

Some recognized the banner as that of House Targaryen, the royal family from across the Narrow Sea in the Seven Kingdoms.

For a moment, they thought the king from across the Narrow Sea had come to conquer this land.

...

"I must remind you, a castle cannot be built overnight, even if it is only made of wood at the moment."

"Your Grace."

Viserys, dressed in neat clothes and wearing a crown adorned with red gemstones, stood on a nearby hill, looking at the castle under hurried construction.

The felled trees were brought over, tied with ropes, and hoisted up with the laborers' calls.

At this moment, Viserys heard a voice from behind him.

The young king slightly turned his head; the wind on the hill was strong, scattering his silver-gold hair. The speaker was none other than Maester Gunther, who had recently joined House Targaryen.

At this moment, the young maester wore a thin gray robe, standing on top of the hill, shivering a little from the cold. His nose was a bit red, and he couldn't help but sneeze.

Nevertheless, even in this condition, Maester Gunther felt he must clarify some matters with the young king to prevent the lord he served from straying, especially since Viserys was still a child.

He would not allow himself to witness the birth of a future 'Mad King' with his own eyes.

"Of course I know, Maester."

"A castle cannot be built overnight, which is why I have paid such a high price."

Viserys glanced at the shivering Maester Gunther, then looked away, pulling on his deer-hide gloves and speaking calmly.

"Paid such a high price?"

Maester Gunther, upon hearing Viserys' words, nearly had his nose bent out of shape in anger.

"Your Grace, do you think allowing your soldiers to plunder the surrounding villages is paying a high price?"

"Is the price paid the physical exertion of your soldiers?"

The young maester, who looked to be in his twenties, argued with the eight-year-old king, creating a somewhat comical scene.

However, Viserys, upon hearing the maester's words, rarely hesitated for a moment, then turned his head, sizing up the other party seriously before speaking.

"Maester Gunther, do you think I allowed my soldiers to plunder the surrounding villages?"

Viserys asked in return.

"Otherwise, what?"

Maester Gunther did not back down, his gray-brown eyes filled with seriousness. He believed that admitting one's mistake was not terrible, as it could be corrected. He was now trying to persuade his lord to follow the right path.

"Who are they?"

Then, the maester pointed at a group of ragged workers wearing chains not far away. If they slackened in their work, the overseeing soldiers would not hesitate to whip them.

Smack—

After falling to the ground, the worker groaned for a while, seemingly cursing the soldier, only to receive a second lash before finally getting up again.

"No."

Viserys shook his head.

"Maester Gunther, I'm afraid you misunderstand. These people are members of the bandits and Brotherhood that were exterminated recently."

"These people... once harmed the region. Having them build the castle now is already letting them off easy."

Chapter 79: Faith and Gold

Several days later.

A long procession stretched far into the distance, as every household in the Andal village prepared their belongings for a migration of their entire clan.

"Bessy, are we really moving our entire clan?"

At that moment, another young man named Myles, who had run a considerable distance, hurriedly moved from the back to the front of the line to find his friend Bessy, whose shoulder bore the seven-pointed star tattoo, and asked.

They didn't even know what had happened, only that one day a group of fully armed soldiers had surrounded their village.

Then the village chief went out to negotiate with the other party, pleading to hand over some valuables in exchange for their mercy.

However, the distance was too great for them to know what exactly the two parties had discussed. Subsequently, they saw the noble knight on his high-headed horse command his servant to hand over a heavy package to the village chief.

Afterward, the village chief returned with a beaming smile, and the soldiers surrounding the village soon retreated.

In a few days, the village chief called for representatives from every family in the village, and the news of the Andal king's return to Andas spread.

The king was blessed by the Seven Gods and was the divine emissary in the mortal world. The Father plucked seven stars from the heavens to crown this king, and so on...

In the end, the entire clan moved to a newly established city for Andals only—Andalos City.

From then on, the Andals would no longer suffer from the oppression of the Loinna villages on both banks of the Loin River.

These two once glorious tribes had now been shattered by the grinding wheels of history. Although there were many people on the continent of Westeros, only the remnants of the great racial melting pot remained.

Only on the continent of Essos did the homelands of the Andals and the Loinna people maintain such traditional and pure-blooded descendants, but the two races were now reduced to village-level conflicts.

This heartening news quickly spread throughout the village, and under the guidance of the village chief, the whole village migrated to their long-desired homeland.

"By the Seven."

"It seems the merciful Father still loves us."

The Andals, filled with a pilgrim's heart, traveled thousands of miles to relocate their entire clan to the upper reaches of the Loin River.

Their Andal king, crowned by the Seven Gods, had built a new city here, and their devout hearts were only a step away from constant prayer.

During their migration, they encountered people from other Andal villages, who also appeared to be relocating their entire clan to Andalos City.

The two migrating groups met, maintaining vigilance but not actively interacting, silently continuing towards their destination.

Young Bessy held a dagger at his waist with one hand, while carrying a simple bow and arrow on his back, warily watching the other Andal group not far away. Many other men in the village did the same.

After confirming that the other party had no ill intentions, they finally lowered their guard and looked back at their companions.

"It seems we are indeed moving there," the young man said calmly.

"Why? Doesn't this sound like a scam?" Myles, the other young man, became worried upon hearing his friend's unwavering belief.

"The Seven Gods have long abandoned us, otherwise we wouldn't be bullied by those detestable Loinna people."

Myles' voice carried impatience, as he believed everyone in the village had gone mad, thinking himself the only sane one.

"And where on earth did a king crowned by the Seven Gods come from?"

However, Myles' words alarmed his companion, Bessie, who never expected his friend to question the Seven Gods. Bessie's eyes widened, and he scolded.

"Silence, Myles!"

"Say no more!"

He was the son of a chosen warrior from the village. Although he wasn't a knight and hadn't been anointed with holy oil, he had a robust physique and was skilled in battle, making him a worthy warrior's son to defend the will of the Seven Gods in their small village.

Bessie's arm bore the mark of the seven-pointed star, a symbol of his pride and faith. Naturally, he wouldn't allow his companion to question the existence of the Seven Gods.

Bessie's reprimanding voice was quite loud, drawing the attention of nearby villagers.

The young warrior's son took a deep breath, then waved his hand to assure the villagers that nothing was amiss; he and Myles were merely chatting.

Myles was easily frightened, and Bessie's scolding made him shrink back. The villagers' gazes only added to his unease, and his earlier anger dissipated.

"Remember, Myles, don't speak such foolishness again."

"The light of the Seven Gods is beyond doubt."

After explaining the situation to the villagers, Bessie turned to Myles, gripping his shoulder, and spoke calmly.

His anger had subsided, for he knew that Myles was impulsive and often spoke without thinking when agitated.

Myles nodded vigorously, agreeing with Bessie.

"Never mind."

Bessie's eyes flickered briefly, and he shook his head, sighing.

"I, too, find the situation strange, but there's nothing we can do. My mother is willing to move, and we're almost there."

Bessie felt somewhat helpless about it.

The decision to move the entire village wasn't forced. Many chose to stay behind, while others opted to leave.

It was difficult to part from their homeland.

Bessie initially didn't want to leave his home, but for some reason, his mother insisted on moving.

Unable to argue with his mother and with his father having recently passed away, Bessie didn't want to upset her, so he reluctantly followed.

Myles' parents were in a similar situation. After receiving a sum of money, they chose to follow the village leader to Andalos City.

Like Bessie, Myles couldn't sway his parents' decision and had been harboring resentment.

...

"Faith and gold - a potent combination."

"Your Grace is indeed skillful."

Meanwhile, in the so-called 'Andalos City,'

Viserys had been learning to ride a horse for the past few days. Now seated on a small white mare, he could manage to move back and forth while holding the reins but struggled to control the direction.

Standing beside the horse was a young man with black hair, wearing a thin maester's robe with an added cloak. Still, the wind made him shiver. He walked alongside Viserys, talking.

"Really?"

"Maester Gunther, you flatter me."

Viserys held the saddle with one hand, his cheeks slightly tense. He didn't want others to see his anxiety due to his inability to ride a horse, so he maintained a nonchalant demeanor and responded.

Chapter 80: Andalos City

"Winter is coming."

"Although Andalos winters aren't too cold, I can't let my soldiers spend the winter in flimsy tents."

King Viserys held the reins of his horse with one hand, then glanced down at Maester Gunther, who was standing beneath him.

"Maester."

"Your Grace."

The black-haired maester rubbed his nose, feeling as if he were about to catch a cold.

"Convey my orders..."

Viserys was about to say something while sitting atop his white horse when he suddenly noticed a group of travelers arriving from afar.

These people had migrated to the still-under-construction Andalos City, attracted by his faith and wealth.

Clatter clatter clatter...

From the densely packed Targaryen army camp, two knights rode out on their horses to greet the newcomers, inquiring about their intentions and checking their identities.

Viserys looked at the group that had come from afar and then turned his gaze away.

Such groups were a common sight these days and were no longer surprising.

"Let them build their own homes."

Viserys then remembered the unfinished statement he had made earlier and added.

"Maester, convey my orders. Divide these prisoners into three groups and have them work around the clock to build the castle."

"I don't want a single second of delay."

"Do you understand?"

Viserys' cheeks were taut, his voice calm but firm.

The young king then pulled on the reins, urging his horse to turn around and head off into the distance.

Clatter clatter...

The sound of horse hooves stirred the leaves on the ground, and his voice carried with it.

"Tell them... once the castle is built, they can leave."

"Of course, if these bandits can survive until then..."

Viserys rode away from the small hill.

In the distance.

The newly arrived group of Andal people were conversing with the two knights who had ridden out from the army camp.

Within this group, two young boys caught sight of the rumored Andalos City and the boy riding a horse in the distance.

"That must be the son of this 'His Grace the King.'"

Myles said sarcastically. Though he didn't know much about horses, the shimmering glow of the horse's coat in the sunlight and the luxurious clothes worn by the boy on its back were enough to prove that he was no ordinary person.

Moreover, he had attendants following him.

What he saw was Maester Gunther, who had been left behind in a cloud of dust by Viserys, brushing the dirt off his clothes and shaking his head before going to relay Viserys' orders.

He knew that Viserys was a man of his word, and since he had said that the bandits would be released once the castle was built, he would keep his promise.

However, Maester Gunther didn't know what would happen after the bandits were released.

He felt that the fate of these troublemakers on this land might not be a good one.

...

And on the other side,

As the 'warrior's son' in the village, young Baelish frowned slightly upon hearing his companion's words.

He didn't have the heart to interrupt, but his friend's uncultured manner was indeed a bit embarrassing. So, he cut in,

"Stop, Myles, you'd better not say any more."

"Do you think the king's son is also called a son?"

Young Myles looked a bit puzzled when he heard Baelish's words.

"Isn't he the king's son?"

"Was the king cuckolded?"

Upon hearing his companion's naive words, Baelish once again rubbed his temples with a headache.

"Of course not."

"Myles, I've always urged you to gain more knowledge."

"The sons of the nobles are called young lords, and the king is the greatest of the nobles. What do you think his son should be called?"

Baelish spoke, gazing at the departing figure of Viserys in the distance.

In truth, he felt a surge of envy in his heart.

His dream was to become a knight, and he hoped that one day he could ride a tall, majestic horse.

He never told his companions that, apart from his mother's will, he had a little desire to move here.

Because he knew very well that this was his once-in-a-lifetime chance to get close to nobility. He had never seen a noble lord before, and according to the village chief, there was a king here.

What was a king?

The young man dared not even think about it. In his mind, a king was a noble more powerful than any other, so high up that Baelish could not see him even if he knelt and looked up, craning his neck.

Naturally, this stirred up the wild ambitions burning within young Baelish.

He wanted to seize the opportunity to impress the king and be knighted!

His companion, of course, knew nothing of the young man's ambitions and asked with some confusion.

"The... greatest noble?"

"What should the king's son be called?"

"I tell you, you're really foolish!"

"Of course, he's called a young lord!"

"No, the great young lord!"

As the two young men chatted, the conversation up ahead seemed to have reached a conclusion.

The migrating group moved once more, heading towards the city beneath the hilltop castle, where crowds gathered.

...

Clang, clang, clang—

Inside Andaros City, craftsmen swung their hammers, driving wooden stakes into the ground.

"Bring this piece of wood over!"

"Hurry up!"

Andals, who stood on rooftops building their homes, shouted.

Now, Andaros City had gathered more than ten thousand people, all of whom were Andals who had migrated from nearby villages.

They began building their homes around the castle on the hill in the center of Andaros City.

One wooden house after another sprouted up, densely guarding the large wooden castle in the center.

The new city could only be temporarily built with wood to speed up the process. After everything matured, the wood would be replaced with stone.

Andaros City's location was also well-chosen. Over six thousand years ago, it had been a battlefield where Andals and Rhoynar fought for supremacy—a strategically important location and the site of an ancient Rhoynar city.

Over six thousand years ago, the Andals launched multiple attacks from the Rhoyne River, targeting the Rhoynar territories, but they were repeatedly defeated.

Then, the Andals chose another direction, crossing the Narrow Sea to invade Westeros.

When Viserys chose the location, he first marked a general direction on the map, selecting a spot surrounded by mountains and rivers, with plains suitable for farming, and with some strategic significance.

Upon arriving at the land with his army, the young king made some adjustments, finally settling on the hilltop as the location.

This hill would be the site of the castle. The hill backed onto the Upper Rhoyne River and offered an unobstructed view of the entire plain within a radius of several miles. It was undoubtedly the highest vantage point in the area.

By building the castle here, even if they faced a siege in the future, it wouldn't be so easily captured.

Chapter 81: Five Years

Conquest Year 289.

Time passed quickly.

Since Viserys journeyed alone to Braavos and secured an alliance between Braavos and Dorne, he obtained Braavos' tacit approval. He then led a fleet across the Narrow Sea to the homeland of the Andals.

The remaining Targaryen embers finally escaped the usurpers' blade hanging over their heads, finding a foothold. They then gathered the surrounding Andal villages and built a city on this land—Andalos.

And now, in the blink of an eye.

Five years had passed.

...

Under a bright and clear sky, flocks of crows landed on the sharp tip of the castle tower.

Flapping their wings, the black-feathered birds pecked at their own feathers, then lifted their beaks, their crimson eyes reflecting the scene below the tower.

This was a flat training ground, a wide horse track, with two knights clad in armor, sitting on their warhorses, facing each other and preparing their equipment.

On one side was a white steed, and at the other end of the track was a sturdy black horse, neighing softly.

Whoosh—

The knight riding the white horse seemed slightly thinner, his body covered in polished, bright silver armor. He was bending over on his horse, adjusting his shin guards, creating a metallic friction sound.

The black horse knight, on the other hand, appeared taller and more imposing, covered in heavy armor.

Stomp, stomp...

The black horse seemed restless, constantly neighing, while the white horse was excited and restless, stomping its hooves.

Both knights held wooden lances for the duel in one hand, but the lance tips had been replaced with unsharpened, rounded blunt heads.

After both sides were ready, they exchanged silent gestures. Outside the horse track, a gray-haired old man sitting in a chair saw that both were prepared, coughed violently for a moment, and then waved his hand.

"Begin."

At the command of the gray-haired man at the side of the field.

The white horse knight didn't have a shield, holding the reins in one hand and then suddenly clamping his legs around the horse's belly.

The already eager white warhorse charged forward, its snow-colored mane scattering in the wind, shining like an enraged lion.

On the other side, the silent black horse knight also spurred his warhorse forward at the command, tightly gripping his lance in one hand and raising the round shield strapped to his left arm with the other.

The range of the horse track wasn't very large, but it was enough for the two warhorses to accelerate at full speed.

Boom, boom, boom—

The galloping hooves stirred up the dust in the field, creating a thunderous roar as the two knights charged towards each other.

Men borrowed the strength of horses, and horses the prowess of men.

On the battlefield, a knight clad in full plate armor atop a warhorse charging at full speed was like a savage tank, nearly invincible, carrying powerful deterrence and impact.

In an instant.

The two knights were within inches of each other, close enough to see each other's eyes through their visors.

Their gazes met, and the black horse knight saw the other's eyes, his heart inexplicably skipping a beat.

Without a moment to spare, the two horses charged at each other, the knights atop them raising their lances, aiming for their opponents. In the blink of an eye, their paths crossed like lightning and sparks.

The knight on the black horse also raised a shield, bound to his left arm, to protect himself.

The next second:

Boom—

Wooden splinters filled the air.

The white horse and the black horse collided, creating a deafening sound. The lance in the white knight's hand shattered into countless fragments.

Up in the castle:

A delicate young girl stood in front of an open window. She had beautiful brown hair, fair cheeks, and clear eyes like water.

At that moment, she was watching the jousting below and gasped as she witnessed the unexpected event.

"Viserys!"

She subconsciously covered her mouth.

Down in the arena:

As the horses crossed paths, the lance in the white knight's hand shattered. However, the taller knight on the black horse was thrown off his steed and onto the ground.

Thud—

The armored figure fell heavily, making a dull noise, unable to move.

The black horse ran a few more yards before realizing its rider had fallen.

Rumbling—

The white knight, unable to halt his horse, held the broken lance in one hand and threw it aside onto the ground outside the arena.

The horse continued running for a few more yards before the inertia from the charge dissipated. The knight then reined in the horse, turned around, and galloped back to the starting point.

Clank—

The victorious knight dismounted, his armor making noise as he did. He lifted the visor covering his face and removed his helmet.

Beneath it was a handsome, clean-shaven face, framed by silver-gold hair. It was none other than King Viserys. The young knight bent down, holding his helmet in one hand, and extended the other to his opponent.

"Beric."

"How are you?"

The knight on the ground lay there, spread-eagled, his chest heaving with deep breaths.

A deep dent marred Beric's breastplate, causing pain in his chest. His bones seemed to be intact, though.

But now, he didn't want to move, even considering giving up.

During the joust, their movements had been too fast, and victory was decided in an instant. Other than the two combatants, very few could see what had happened.

Beric raised his lance high and readied his shield, but Viserys dodged the lance with an unexpectedly quick movement. Viserys' lance smashed through Beric's shield and struck him squarely on the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

Bruised and battered.

At that moment, Beric heard the sound of hooves. His black horse had returned and was nudging him gently, seemingly afraid that its master was dead.

Viserys dismounted and extended his hand to Beric.

"I'm fine, Your Grace."

Clap—

Beric grasped the young king's hand and was helped up.

"I just lost quite miserably, and the fall hurt a bit," he said with a wry smile.

Beric removed his helmet, revealing a slightly tanned face and dark hair. He glanced up, thinking he had seen Princess Rhaenys watching the match.

However, the open window in the castle was now empty.

Chapter 82: Valor

"Since learning from Prince Oberyn, your skills have truly become astounding."

As the two knights conversed beneath their horses, the grey-haired old man who had been sitting outside the racecourse walked over, leaning on his cane, and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Indeed, I have nothing more to teach you."

"Sir William."

Upon hearing the old man's voice, Bessie turned his head and hastily greeted him with respect.

This grey-haired man had been teaching him the ways of a knight, not just riding, lance and sword skills, but also the honor and duty that a knight's heart should uphold.

Upon hearing the voice, Viserys also turned his head to look at the grey-haired old man, his eyes lingering for a moment before his good mood grew a little heavier. Then he spoke solemnly.

"Master-at-arms."

The grey-haired old man, whose appearance had changed drastically from his past, was none other than the former Red Keep's master-at-arms, Sir William Darry.

However, because of an old injury that hadn't received timely treatment, he had missed the best opportunity to address it, leaving behind an incurable affliction. In just six short years, the once spirited and valiant knight had become emaciated and skeletal.

His once-black hair had turned grey, one eye had grown blurry and was now half-blind, and by his early forties, he already needed a cane to walk.

Still, the master-at-arms had taught countless students and, even now, was unwilling to rest. He wanted to burn out the last of his strength.

The young men recruited to the castle still needed his training and polish to become qualified soldiers.

As one of the people who had migrated from an Andal village, the young Bessie was one of the soldiers trained by Sir William.

His talent was good, and he possessed exceptional bravery. Sir William then recommended him to be Viserys' personal attendant.

Bessie then followed Viserys on his expeditions to clear trade routes and eliminate bandits entrenched in the Norvos Mountains. He charged forward and achieved numerous military merits.

Viserys then personally drew his sword and placed it on Bessie's shoulder, bestowing him knighthood.

Viserys himself had also led soldiers in the eradication of bandits over the years, personally killing and executing many criminals. His personal strength had significantly improved.

However, the exceptionally brave Knight Bessie was knocked off his horse in a single round of combat against the young king, which astonished Master-at-arms William.

Prince Oberyn had dueled and killed Lord Ormond Yronwood at sixteen because of an affair.

Viserys' older brother, Prince Rhaegar, had just begun wielding a sword and wearing armor at fifteen, but he could also defeat a knight in single combat on horseback.

Viserys was younger than both of them, but he had achieved similar feats, defeating the nineteen-year-old Knight Bessie single-handedly, and that too without any leniency from his opponent.

Master-at-arms William's one eye may have been half-blind, but his other eye was still sharp.

This was the most astonishing part; the master could clearly see that Viserys was indeed stronger than the disciple he had trained so diligently.

...

Regardless of strength, speed, reflexes, or superb spear skills, Viserys could easily win even if he fought several times more.

"If a tournament were to be held in King's Landing, Your Majesty's current strength would likely have a chance to achieve a good result," Master-at-Arms Ser William, leaning on his cane, gave Viserys a high evaluation.

There were many warriors in the Seven Kingdoms, and it was already quite impressive for Viserys's strength to qualify for a tournament. However, Ser William believed that Viserys could achieve some success.

"Perhaps…"

At this point, the old man with gray hair hesitated, and then spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Your Majesty, in the future, you may avenge your father and brother yourself by killing Robert Baratheon, the Kingslayer, and the Mountain."

Viserys stood in place, holding his helmet in one hand, listening to Ser William's words, and remained silent for a while.

Bessie, who had a deep dent in his breastplate, overheard Ser William and took a discreet glance at the young king.

Since passing the rigorous selection process to enter the castle and even being recommended as Viserys's personal bodyguard, Bessie had gradually learned about some matters.

The Targaryen family had lost a war on the continent of Westeros, lost their throne, and then fled across the Narrow Sea to the continent of Essos. They had finally settled in Andalos in hopes of rising again.

The people just mentioned, Robert Baratheon, the Kingslayer, and the Mountain, were Viserys's enemies, with deep enmity between them, their hands stained with the blood of the Targaryens.

"I will, Ser William," Viserys said after a moment of silence, nodding his head and speaking calmly.

He knew Ser William was reminding him not to be content with his current peace, and never to forget the deep hatred of the past.

"In the future, I will kill them myself to avenge my father and brother."

Though Andalos had been established, the Iron Throne across the Narrow Sea would not let him go. Viserys had faced countless assassination attempts over the years, involving poison and ambush, but all had been safely resolved.

Baratheon had suffered a heavy blow five years ago but had quickly recovered. A new royal fleet was nearing completion.

Outsiders believed that although Robert Baratheon was furious, he had granted Storm's End to his younger brother Renly as a punishment for Stannis, while still preserving an opportunity for Stannis to make up for his mistakes.

The new royal fleet was still assigned to Stannis to build and train, with the goal of retaking Dragonstone.

However, due to the enormous amount of gold dragons spent in vain before, the new fleet plan encountered fierce opposition from Hand of the King Jon Arryn.

It took two more years, digging the Seven Kingdoms three feet deep and borrowing another sum from the Iron Bank, to gather enough funds for the new fleet.

This time, Stannis was fully prepared.

He would not make the same mistake again and give the Targaryen fleet any chance to ambush. From the moment he received the first gold dragon, it took more than three years for the new royal fleet to be nearly completed, and the plan to attack Dragonstone was finally put on the agenda.

Meanwhile, in Andalos.

As Viserys, Ser Bessie, and Ser William were conversing, a castle guard approached them.

"Your Majesty."

"There is a man claiming to be the Magister of Pentos seeking an audience."

...

Chapter 83: City of Wood

"Magister of Pentos?"

The silver-haired youth held his helmet, slightly puzzled by the guard's words.

Over the years, they had peacefully developed on the Andaras Plain, keeping their distance from Pentos. Though the two city-states were not far apart, the Velvet Mountains served as a barrier between them. Apart from regular trade and civilian interactions, there was little high-level communication between them.

Viserys hadn't expected that today, of all days, a Magister from Pentos would come to Andaros.

Viserys knew that, in theory, Pentos was governed by the Prince of Pentos, but the prince's power had long been usurped by the Magisters. Now, the prince only performed ceremonial duties, presiding over meetings and holiday feasts. Pentos was effectively ruled by the Magisters collectively.

"Since Your Majesty has important matters to attend to, I shall take my leave."

Sir William, leaning on his cane, spoke in a hoarse voice. Viserys nodded slightly, and then Sir William left the tournament grounds. It was time for him to take his medicine, and he needed to see the maester to concoct some potions.

As the master-at-arms departed, Bessie remained by Viserys' side, for he was Viserys' guard and needed to protect the young king at all times.

Though he had not been formally appointed as a Kingsguard, the master-at-arms believed that they were not yet qualified to stand alongside their late brother, Jonothor Darry, the former 'Mad King's' Kingsguard. Now, they could not even bear the title of Kingsguard.

However, apart from the title, Bessie had assumed duties equivalent to those of a Kingsguard.

After pondering for a while, Viserys asked again.

"Do you know the name of this Magister from Pentos?"

The guard who had delivered the news thought for a moment and then respectfully replied.

"Your Majesty, I heard their conversation. This Magister of Pentos seems to be called Illyrio Mopatis."

"Illyrio Mopatis."

Viserys found the name somewhat familiar. Recalling something, his light purple eyes narrowed slightly, and he nodded.

"I see."

"Please have this Magister wait for me in the great hall."

"Understood."

The guard received Viserys' order and then withdrew.

Following that, Viserys left the training grounds with his guard.

Meanwhile, in the castle above.

A brown-haired girl stood by the window, watching Viserys' retreating figure. She pouted and hummed softly.

She seemed to still be sulking with Viserys over being prevented from going out to play a few days ago.

She had witnessed the entire joust between Viserys and the guard knight. When Viserys' lance suddenly broke, she had been startled and let out a cry. She was afraid that something might have happened to him.

But it was just a fleeting moment, and it turned out to be a false alarm. The knight named Bessie had lost the contest, and her 'brother' had knocked him off his horse. The girl then patted her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.

Due to their closeness in age and their past reliance on each other, Rhaenys had always regarded Viserys as her brother in her heart.

And then she discovered Viserys atop his horse, holding a broken lance, oddly lifting his head to gaze in the direction of the castle.

He seemed to have just heard a girl's cry.

Upon witnessing this, Rhaenys remembered that she was apparently in a quarrel with Viserys, and hurriedly hid behind the curtains.

It wasn't until Viserys and his attendant left that Rhaenys crawled out from behind the curtain.

In her hand, she held a timid-looking little girl with silvery-gold hair.

The little girl heard the commotion outside the window and, stepping on a small stool, tried to peek out, but couldn't see the scenery outside due to her height.

"Alright, Daenerys, don't be naughty."

"You'll fall again later."

Noticing the little girl's dangerous movements, Rhaenys quickly picked her up from the stool.

...

Illyrio Mopatis rode in a carriage into the rumored 'City of Wood,' Andalos.

The carriage swayed on the flat road, and then a thick, jeweled finger lifted the carriage's curtain.

A portly man sat in the carriage, curiously gazing outside. He had a greasy yellow forked beard and uneven yellow teeth, with a gemstone ring on each finger.

He was Illyrio Mopatis, the merchant Magister of Pentos. Although Pentos wasn't too far from Andalos, traveling by land still required crossing mountains and rivers.

In his youth, Illyrio had been a poor, robust assassin. But now, due to neglecting exercise and his significantly changed figure, he had lost the ability to ride a horse. He had traveled a great distance by carriage to Andalos, feeling as if his buttocks were going to be crushed.

"I swear! This is the last time I ride in a carriage!"

"Abel!"

"Come and rub my waist!"

Illyrio sat in the carriage, looking at the scenery of the City of Wood while commanding his attendant beside him. The attendant, named Abel, hurriedly came to his master's side and massaged his aching waist.

Illyrio grunted a few times, adjusted his sitting posture, and continued to gaze at the scenery outside the window, his eyes filled with curiosity.

Andalos was known as the City of Wood in the outside world because the city had sprung up at an astonishing speed. Viserys Targaryen came to the Andalos Plain and, in the name of the Seven Gods' apostle and the Andal King, called on all Andals to gather and establish the city.

Since it was necessary to quickly establish a foothold, the city had a population of tens of thousands in the early stages. Even the wealth accumulated by the Targaryens on Dragonstone couldn't withstand such extravagance.

Viserys first understood the astronomical cost of mobilizing an army for combat, even if just for a day.

Therefore, upon arriving in the new city, it was essential to quickly establish a foothold and start producing, striving for self-sufficiency.

As a result, the miraculously fast-rising city of Andalos was initially entirely built of wood, which led to its name, the City of Wood.

However, this changed somewhat after the great fire that occurred two years ago.

A fire, either natural or man-made, burned a fifth of the city's districts. The number of people killed in the fire reached over a thousand, but the economic loss wasn't significant.

Although Andalos had risen quickly, its economic level wasn't high, so even a great fire had little to burn.

Nevertheless, Viserys learned his lesson at that time, slowed down the city 's expansion, and began some renovation projects, gradually tearing down some wooden houses and rebuilding them as stone structures.

All of this started with his own castle.

Chapter 84: The Prince of Pentos

Soon after.

Clip-clop—

The carriage traversed the entire city, finally entering the winding upward path paved with bluestone slabs.

When Illyrio reached this point, he no longer felt the pain in his buttocks. He had arrived at the foot of the castle's hill, where the road was extremely smooth, and even the carriage could not feel any bumps.

Illyrio sat curiously in the carriage, examining the modest castle on the hill. The Targaryen banner, with its black background and three-headed dragon, hung atop the castle.

As a former assassin and mercenary, he could tell that the castle's construction focused primarily on defense, with arrow slits and battlements everywhere.

Although the Andalos Castle was simple, made of mud, wood, and stone, its elevated position offered a panoramic view and made it easy to defend and difficult to attack.

To conquer this castle, Illyrio, who had never led an army, estimated that at least two to three thousand men would be needed, and half of them might lose their lives in the process.

"What kind of person is Viserys Targaryen..."

Illyrio became intensely curious about Viserys.

He knew that Viserys had only gradually gained power after the death of his mother, Queen Rhaella, and was still quite young.

Yet, he had managed to establish a vast city on a land with little resources, which was nothing short of astonishing.

Although Illyrio did not understand the concept of religious faith and nationalism as double-edged swords, he knew that Viserys had spent a lot of money.

"Can money really buy a city?"

Illyrio contemplated the idea. As the Magister of Pentos, there were many Magisters, but none as refreshing as being a lord of a city.

However, this was just a thought.

Illyrio, who had climbed from the ranks of mercenaries and assassins to become the Magister of Pentos, was no fool. He knew his abilities and was well aware of his limitations.

He was already struggling with management, let alone building a city from scratch.

Subsequently.

After verifying the identity of the carriage.

Rumble—

The gates of Andalos Castle opened wide, allowing the convoy to enter.

Illyrio's carriage was in the middle of the procession, accompanied by fifty soldiers and gifts for Viserys, including gold, silver, treasures, and Pentos' specialty wine 'White Amber,' filling ten large wagons.

The carriage stopped within the castle, and the soldiers unloaded the cargo, bringing out several men and women in shackles. These were slaves sent as gifts to Viserys.

Although Pentos officially banned slave trading, everyone knew that it was impossible to prevent.

With the help of his servants, Illyrio laboriously descended from the carriage.

"Magister."

At that moment, a castle guard approached to guide the Magister of Pentos.

"His Majesty is waiting for you in the great hall."

...

Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis, followed the guard into the castle's great hall and took a seat. Soon, a maid brought him tea.

The great hall appeared simple but not shabby. Windows on both sides of the walls were opened, allowing sunlight to pour in and brighten the room. Two rows of carved stone pillars supported the ceiling, and the floor was paved with patterned marble tiles.

At the end of the hall, a heavy black throne sat atop a platform, flanked by two exquisitely crafted black and gold brocades. The Targaryen family's emblem, featuring a black background and a three-headed dragon, adorned the surface of the silk.

As Illyrio took in the details of the great hall, a flurry of footsteps echoed from behind the hall.

"Your Majesty."

The guard's respectful voice.

"Indeed."

And a calm, steady voice.

The doors at the rear of the hall opened, and a figure emerged from two walkways behind the throne, surrounded and attended like the center of a constellation.

Illyrio put down his teacup, quickly stood up from his chair, and offered a slight bow.

"Your Majesty."

Viserys had just removed his armor, changing into more formal attire.

His squire, Ser Bess, had also removed his dented armor, replacing it with lighter, more decorative armor, before following Viserys over.

"Magister, please sit."

Viserys sat on his throne, gesturing to Illyrio, who then returned to his seat, the chair creaking under his weight.

Viserys' guard, Bess, stood behind the throne with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other behind his back.

"I've heard of Your Majesty's reputation long ago, and I'm honored to meet you this time."

Illyrio sat back down and spoke first, looking at the silver-haired young man on the throne.

This was the young king of House Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen III.

When Viserys had entered with his guards, Illyrio was indeed impressed. Although his orientation was normal, and he appreciated beautiful women, Viserys' appearance was so handsome that even men couldn't help but admire.

Viserys' elder brother, Rhaegar, had once captivated countless women throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and young Viserys had always resembled Rhaegar in appearance.

Viserys, sitting on the throne and hearing Illyrio's flattery, remained calm and composed. He had heard such words countless times before, and they no longer stirred him. He then nodded slightly.

"Magister, you're too kind."

"What brings you to Andalos this time, Magister?"

Viserys didn't continue to beat around the bush with Illyrio but asked directly.

"Of course, I have come to present a great gift to Your Majesty and befriend Your Majesty."

Illyrio, seated confidently, spoke.

"Befriend?"

"How do we become friends?"

Viserys raised an eyebrow upon hearing Illyrio's words.

"Of course."

"You accept the gift, and we become friends."

Illyrio laughed heartily, his fat jiggling, and the chair beneath him groaning in protest.

"A great gift?"

Viserys, however, remained unmoved and continued to inquire.

"Naturally, a great gift!"

Clap, clap, clap—

Illyrio, the Magister of Pentos, clapped his hands, and his servants entered carrying a dazzling array of gold, silver, and jewels.

...

Chapter 85: Invitation

As one of the nine Free Cities, it was not surprising that the ruler of Pentos would send gifts to Viserys.

Andalos was a newly established city, only five years old. Nevertheless, it had attracted a large number of Andals, and now the city had a population of eighty thousand.

Though Andalos had not solved its poverty problem and still had a large impoverished population, its main exports relied on traditional livestock and agriculture. The vast plains and mild climate were suitable for farming and raising livestock.

But Andalos had a huge population of a single race, and its war potential had grown to a level that could not be ignored. This caused neighboring Pentos to become uneasy, leading to the dispatch of Illyrio on this diplomatic mission.

As one grew stronger, the other waned.

Pentos's strength had long been at the bottom of the nine Free Cities.

The reason was that Pentos had once waged war with Braavos over the issue of slavery. Braavos, under the banner of freedom, demanded Pentos to abolish slavery, but Pentos refused.

Subsequently, the two sides waged six wars over the course of two hundred years, with Braavos winning four of them.

The last conflict occurred ninety-one years ago. Pentos sacrificed four princes to the gods in a single year, but it still could not change the downward spiral of the war.

Braavos's invincible fleet blockaded the port of Pentos, ultimately forcing the rulers of Pentos to sign a humiliating treaty and beg for peace.

They publicly declared the abolition of slavery, prohibited the slave trade, and drastically reduced their warships. They were allowed to retain only twenty vessels, with the rest of Pentos's ships sunk in the sea.

Pentos was also forbidden from hiring mercenaries, signing contracts with free mercenary companies, or maintaining any military force beyond the city guard.

Since that war ninety-one years ago, despite its massive walls, Pentos had been widely regarded as the most vulnerable of the Free Cities.

It was for this reason that the rulers of Pentos maintained a friendly attitude towards other Free Cities, the Dothraki Khals, and any other forces that might pose a threat.

Over the years, Pentos had cultivated relationships with a series of powerful Khals, giving them gifts and gold to ensure that their Khalasars would not invade Pentos and could operate east of the Rhoyne to provide protection when needed.

Illyrio's mission was to establish a friendly and cooperative relationship with the newly built city of Andalos.

In other words, to make a friend.

And Pentos had its own unique way of making friends.

Illyrio clapped his hands, and ten carts filled with gold, silver, jewelry, various gifts, and fine wine were displayed in the hall, including four slaves personally gifted by Illyrio.

Two were strong slaves who had won five consecutive battles in the arena, and two were attractive female slaves.

Viserys, sitting on the throne, stared blankly at the hall filled with gold, silver, jewelry, various gifts, and the four slaves. He knew that Pentos had a unique way of making friends, but this method of using money to impress...

Wasn't it a bit disrespectful?

Viserys was silent for a while, looking at everything before him, and finally waved his hand.

"Accept them."

.

The construction of Andalos in its early stages consumed too many Gold Dragons. Although it had long since reached a balanced budget, Viserys couldn't help but feel the pain of seeing their wealth dwindling. He decided that it was best to be frugal and save as much as possible.

As for the four slaves, Viserys ordered the guards to tear up their contracts. If they wished to stay in Andalos, they could; if not, they were free to leave. Due to the proximity of Braavos, Viserys didn't want to create any unnecessary trouble for himself. He had once considered sending 'Red Viper' Oberyn Martell to Astapor to purchase Unsullied to bolster their military defenses, but ultimately canceled the order due to pressure from Braavos.

Braavos, a city-state built by former slaves, opposed all forms of slavery.

However, Viserys didn't directly refuse Illyrio's offer, as he was still the powerful Magister of Pentos. Instead, he accepted the slaves and dealt with them later. Seeing that Viserys had accepted the gifts, Illyrio's face broke into a smile, which signified that he had achieved the majority of his mission.

The rotund Magister then extended a new invitation.

"Your Grace."

"There is one more matter."

Illyrio, standing before the chair with his protruding belly, bowed slightly and continued.

"The Magisters of Pentos have long admired your name and wish to invite you to visit our city. They have prepared even more lavish gifts for you."

"Visit Pentos?"

"Even more lavish gifts?"

Viserys, sitting on his throne, slightly furrowed his brow and glanced at his attendant. Bessie, too, looked puzzled, unsure of the Magister's intentions.

If they wanted to give gifts, why not do it now instead of insisting that he visits Pentos?

Could it be...

"Dragon eggs."

Illyrio, standing in the hall, spoke bluntly.

"I thought so."

Viserys' beautiful eyes narrowed in understanding. He knew Illyrio had dragon eggs, and only a gift of such caliber could entice him to leave Andalos and visit Pentos.

In fact, Viserys had been trying to acquire dragon eggs over the years, but un-hatched eggs were as hard as decorative stones, making it difficult for ordinary people to discern their authenticity.

"I once acquired three dragon eggs from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. They have turned into fossils due to the passage of time."

Illyrio, still standing in place, spoke respectfully.

"I cannot be certain if they can still hatch, but I believe Your Grace might be interested in them."

"Indeed, you are right, Magister."

"I am indeed very interested in dragon eggs."

Viserys rose from his throne, descended the steps, and approached Illyrio. Staring into the eyes of the wealthy Magister, he spoke calmly.

Thanks to his consistent exercise, the young king had grown taller, now standing only a head shorter than Illyrio.

Illyrio, feeling the intense gaze of Viserys' pale purple eyes, inexplicably grew nervous.

"I accept."

Viserys' calm voice followed.

"Your Grace?"

Bessie, standing behind the throne, was startled by Viserys' decision.

Chapter 86: The Kingsguard

Bessi knew that the dragon eggs were of utmost importance to Viserys, but they still had not figured out the true intentions of Pentos.

How could the young king be so bold as to accept a one-on-one meeting?

"Your Grace, perhaps you should reconsider..."

However, Viserys waved his hand, cutting off Bessi's words.

"It's fine."

"What's there to consider about attending a feast? I trust the Magister's credibility."

Viserys spoke calmly.

"I only need to bring some of my personal guards for protection."

The young king then turned to Illyrio and asked,

"How about it, Magister?"

Illyrio stood in place, blinking slightly as if lost in thought.

He had not expected Viserys to accept the invitation to Pentos so readily without any hesitation. He had thought that he might need to put in more effort to persuade him.

Was this young king really so courageous?

Illyrio suddenly felt that Viserys' ability to lead his family out of their past predicament and create the current situation might not be solely due to luck.

Although Illyrio had no ill intentions towards Viserys, inviting the young king to Pentos was a collective decision by the other Magisters who wanted to meet the Targaryen heir.

Ever since the rise of Andalos, the Magisters of Pentos had been watching the emerging city closely, witnessing its growth into a powerful force that could not be ignored.

Even on the path of Andalos' rise, there had been some overt and covert assistance from Pentos, helping the city to develop rapidly.

The reason for Pentos' actions was perhaps known only to the Magisters.

"Of course!"

The Magister of Pentos immediately nodded his head. Since Viserys had agreed, everything would be easy to arrange.

"Your Grace, please be assured that Pentos also highly respects the rights of guests."

"Plotting against guests at a feast in Pentos is a heinous crime that even the gods will not forgive."

Illyrio patted his chest with a loud thud, assuring Viserys.

However, he then thought of something and asked,

"Ah, right... Your Grace."

"Just now, you mentioned bringing some personal guards. How many?"

Viserys had said he would bring 'a few' personal guards for protection, but in Illyrio's view, that would be six or seven people, or at most a dozen.

He had only brought fifty soldiers on this long carriage journey.

"Right."

Viserys nodded calmly upon hearing Illyrio's question and replied,

"I have about four thousand personal guards."

"How many?!"

The Magister of Pentos nearly jumped up upon hearing Viserys' words. Was the young king coming for a meeting or to attack the city?

Although four thousand soldiers could not possibly take Pentos, it would take tens of thousands of elite troops and siege weapons to forcefully conquer a massive city-state like Pentos.

Nevertheless, Viserys leading such a large force would undoubtedly cause panic among the citizens of Pentos.

Seeing the expression on Illyrio's face, Viserys shrugged slightly.

"Does the Magister not believe me?"

The young king then turned to Bessi and asked.

"Besie, are there four thousand in my personal guard?"

Standing beside the throne, the young knight held the hilt of his sword with one hand. Hearing Viserys' words, he breathed a small sigh of relief. It seemed the young king had not lost his cool.

Besie now knew of Viserys' bravery, having heard of his daring journey to Braavos as a child.

But what he didn't know was that back then, Viserys had been like a frightened rabbit, his face turning pale at the slightest hint of danger.

Besie nodded, gripping the hilt of his sword.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Your personal guard indeed consists of four thousand men."

This pertained to the composition of the Andalos army.

Now, the city's standing force for foreign combat was just over four thousand valiant Andal warriors, all of them, in name, members of Viserys' personal guard.

Dragonstone's naval forces were stationed in a distant port, and the Targaryen traditional naval strength was not counted among them.

Discounting the three to four thousand sailors and navy personnel, and the more than four thousand valiant Andal warriors, there were roughly two thousand guards left to maintain the basic defense of Andalos.

For a city with a population of only eighty thousand, being able to scrape together an army of nearly ten thousand was impressive – a ratio of eight to one for citizens and soldiers. This was an astonishing figure, approaching an all-armed citizenry when compared to nomadic tribes like the Dothraki.

Now, Viserys intended to take the most elite four thousand Andal warriors from Andalos and accompany him to Pentos for a meeting.

"Your Grace, isn't a personal guard of over four thousand a bit too much?"

Illyrio saw that Viserys was not joking, and his oily face wrinkled like a bitter gourd.

He understood that Viserys didn't want to trust them.

"Indeed, over four thousand is a bit much."

Viserys stood before Illyrio, smacked his lips, and then casually agreed with a nod.

"How about I leave the four thousand outside the city and only take a hundred knights with me?"

"Of course, that's acceptable!"

Illyrio breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Viserys change his mind and agree to take only a hundred knights into the city. He immediately accepted the offer.

"Hmm?"

However, as soon as his words left his mouth, the merchant prince hesitated.

Did he just fall for a trick?

Viserys' true intention might have been to bring a hundred elite knights into the city, so that even if they encountered danger, they'd have some resistance. They might even have a chance to join forces with the four thousand outside and make a break for it, rather than being captured helplessly.

"Well..."

"Alright."

Illyrio's plump face revealed a bitter smile. He hadn't expected Viserys to not only be brave but also cunning.

"In that case, Pentos eagerly awaits Your Grace's arrival."

...

Soon after, a few days had passed.

Doo-

A long, desolate horn sounded, and the four thousand elite Andal warriors of Andalos broke camp.

Roaring hooves and fluttering banners filled the air, and the raised spears shone coldly in the sunlight.

The soldiers protected their king on both sides, marching toward the Velvet Hills and aiming for the prosperous pearl of the bay – Pentos.

...

Chapter 87: Pentos

Whoosh~

The sea breeze gently brushed across the young man's cheek, lifting the strands of hair on his forehead.

The Andalos army had bypassed the Velvet Hills, following the coastal route that the merchants from the

The army snaked up a high ridge, and as they looked back, they saw the vast ocean on their right-hand side. Fine sand and the gentle sea breeze accompanied the sight of rolling waves, one after another.

Viserys was surrounded by countless soldiers, his hand gripping the reins of a docile white mare.

Viserys had two horses, one a stronger and more spirited warhorse, and the other a gentler mare for everyday riding, which he now rode.

The young king rode the white horse, clad in a clean, well-fitted suit of leather armor, a longsword at his waist, and a snow-white fur mantle on his shoulders. A black cape with gold trim, embroidered with the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem, draped behind him, his silvery-gold hair cascading down.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…

The army continued to march, the sound of their hooves chaotic on the ground.

The massive city looming in the distance was getting closer and closer.

"Pentos is near, Your Grace," the wealthy Braavosi Magister, riding in a carriage, pulled back the curtain and spoke to the young king on horseback.

It wasn't that Illyrio was being disrespectful, but given his size, riding a horse was indeed a torment for both the steed and himself.

"Mhm," Viserys, perched atop his horse, gazed at the enormous city-state in the distance and nodded slightly.

His legs nudged the mare's belly, urging her onward.

...

The Andalos army soon approached Pentos, the disordered sounds of footsteps and hoofbeats weaving together, raised spears forming a veritable forest of lances under the sun.

Whoosh...

The banner of the three-headed dragon fluttered and snapped in the wind.

Boom—

The Andalos army stopped their advance not far from the gates of Pentos, beginning to set up camp on the spot.

"What's happening?"

"Has war broken out?"

The citizens of Pentos were indeed alarmed by the approaching army outside the city, and a commotion swept through the populace, their hearts gripped by fear as they wondered if Pentos had erupted into war once again.

"Quick!"

"Quick! Close the city gates!"

The Pentoshi guards, however, remained relatively composed, gripping their weapons tightly, and shouted to close the gates first.

They had received news of the approaching forces long before, but despite their preparations, there was still chaos at the city gates, with people and animals scrambling about, finally managing to close the massive doors with great effort.

Boom—

The gates of Pentos were finally sealed shut.

"Pentos," Viserys, sitting on his horse, watched the scene with an unchanged expression, his hair billowing in the wind.

He surveyed the giant city-state: the towering walls, the sturdy gates, the tall square brick towers visible from outside the city, the enormous red temple, and the palace with its cluster of nine spires.

Pentos was truly a city of immense wealth.

What surprised Viserys, however, was how fearful of war this prosperous city seemed to be, as if it were a frightened bird.

With only four thousand men, trying to attack Pentos would be like trying to fill a tooth gap with a grain of sand.

Yet, even so, Pentos was nervous to this extent.

Could it be that Pentos had truly been terrified by Braavos?

Viserys sat on his horse, observing the massive city-state for a while before finally withdrawing his gaze. A hundred knights had already been chosen to accompany him into the city and were now gathered around him on their horses.

Pentos' wealthy Magister, Illyrio, ordered the carriage forward, intending to personally request the opening of the city gates.

It didn't take long for the Magister to negotiate.

Creak—

The gates of Pentos finally opened once more, but the gap was not large, only allowing two or three horses to pass through side by side.

The guards hid behind the gates, gripping their weapons tightly, peering out with lingering tension on their faces. It seemed that if there were any signs of the four thousand men outside attempting to seize the city, they would quickly close the gates.

"Enter the city."

Viserys, unfazed by this display, commanded as his black cloak fluttered in the howling sea breeze outside the city gate, his hair obscuring his eyes. He then gestured and urged his horse forward.

The hundred knights accompanying him filed in, passing through the narrow city gate and entering Pentos.

Clip-clop...

Their horses' hooves lightly echoed on the city's cobblestone streets as Viserys, sitting atop his horse, finally entered Pentos. He held the reins with one hand, his eyes wandering curiously over the city's sights.

The citizens on both sides of the streets shared the same curiosity, watching this group of unexpected guests from outside their world.

The hundred knights, clad in armor, protected their young king as they rode swiftly through the bustling streets of Pentos, heading straight for the palace of the Prince of Pentos.

Viserys had come to Pentos to attend a feast.

"Your Majesty."

Soon, Viserys and his hundred accompanying knights arrived at the Prince's palace.

Illyrio accompanied them, and servants came to welcome them. Viserys dismounted, handing his horse to a servant to lead away.

The other knights remained stationed outside the palace, while Ser Jorah followed Viserys into the heart of the Pentos palace.

"Your Majesty, this way, please."

A servant guided Viserys, with Illyrio following alongside, slightly out of breath from the brisk pace. He then turned to the young king and said,

"Welcome to Pentos, Your Majesty."

"What do you think of Pentos?"

The Prince's palace was grand and spacious, with towering, intricately carved stone pillars. Scantily clad serving girls flitted about, and a gentle breeze revealed captivating eyes. Marble floor tiles stretched beneath their feet, and exquisite tapestries hung on the walls.

Viserys walked along the lengthy corridor, admiring the opulent halls around him. Only when Illyrio spoke did he look away.

"Pentos indeed has great charm."

Viserys nodded, his response brief and to the point.

"Hahaha, naturally!"

"Pentos is also honored to gain your friendship."

Illyrio laughed heartily, but his words seemed to carry a hidden meaning.

"Hm?"

Viserys heard Illyrio's words, glanced at him sideways, but chose not to respond further.

Chapter 88: Dragon Eggs

In truth, Viserys had long understood the ulterior motives of Pentos.

It was an open conspiracy among the magisters of Pentos, who hoped to use this opportunity to sow discord between Braavos and Andalos.

Andalos, as a buffer zone between Pentos and Braavos, had been growing stronger, and it was only natural that they would seek to break free from Braavosi influence.

What Pentos desired was to incite Andalos to 'rebel,' allowing them to seize the opportunity to distance themselves from Braavos and tear up the humiliating treaty, becoming a normalized city-state.

Pentos thought this would be an effortless collaboration. However, Viserys didn't want to be the first to stick his neck out and definitely didn't want to fall into the trap to die for Pentos.

He only wanted to develop quietly, focus on cultivating his lands, and seek change when the time was ripe.

After all, Andalos had risen as a city under Braavos's covert support, and its finances still relied on the help of the Iron Bank, owing several low-interest loans from them.

Even though Viserys had long known about Pentos's schemes, he still had to make the trip for the sake of the dragon eggs.

These three dragon eggs were far too important to him.

But Viserys also had to consider that if he became too close to Pentos, it would inevitably affect his cooperation with Braavos.

That's why Viserys had proposed leading a large army at that time, which was tantamount to telling Braavos and everyone else that he didn't trust Pentos.

There were no intimate connections between them in secret; it was just a necessary trip for the dragon eggs.

…

Soon, Viserys entered the depths of the palace accompanied by Illyrio, and the current prince of Pentos and several magisters had already arrived.

"This is the esteemed Prince of Pentos from the prestigious Rodinis family," Illyrio introduced, standing beside Viserys.

The prince of Pentos was selected from forty noble families and could not refuse the appointment. The previous prince who escaped the appointment formed a mercenary company and still couldn't return home to this day.

Viserys raised his head to look at the highest point of the hall, where an ivory and gold throne sat. On it was a man dressed in splendid attire with a wooden expression.

He was the current prince of Pentos, bearing the distinguished Rodinis surname.

Beside him were three heralds, each holding symbols of trade - a golden scale, a symbol of war - a steel longsword, and a symbol of law - a silver whip.

"Esteemed guest, welcome," the Pentoshi prince said in a wooden voice after Illyrio's introduction.

Viserys's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't immediately speak.

Instead, Ser Jorah, who stood behind him, stepped forward, stood beside Viserys, and loudly introduced him.

"This is the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and Protector of the Realm, the Chosen of the Seven, the 'True Dragon,' Viserys Targaryen the Third."

Ser Jorah's resounding voice echoed throughout the spacious hall.

Viserys looked at the wooden-faced prince of Pentos and finally nodded slightly before speaking.

"Your Highness."

[]

Viserys's voice fell, but the great hall fell silent. The Prince of Pentos sat like a wooden statue, his eyes on his nose, his nose on his mouth, and his mouth on his heart, as if he hadn't heard Viserys at all, not uttering a word.

However, the silence in the hall only lasted for a moment before a voice came from the right upper side of Viserys, breaking the stillness.

"Welcome to Pentos, King of the Targaryens."

Viserys slightly turned his head and looked in the direction of the voice. A white-haired old man sat on the upper right side of the hall's stairs, wearing a golden medal on his chest. The one who spoke was him.

"This is the Magister from House Green."

Illyrio whispered another introduction.

Viserys nodded slightly, and his gaze swept across the surrounding environment. There were several chairs arranged in a circle on the steps of the great hall, each occupied by a Magister of Pentos.

Some of them were white-haired old men, others were portly middle-aged men like Illyrio, and still others were even younger.

Their attire varied, and there was even a middle-aged man behind a golden curtain, revealing only his legs. It was unclear if he could see the outside world through the curtain.

"Please, have a seat, Your Grace."

Then a voice came from the left side of Viserys, a young Pentoshi Magister who appeared to be about thirty years old.

Viserys nodded slightly, and under Illyrio's guidance, he climbed the stairs and sat down next to Illyrio at the top of the great hall.

After arranging Viserys's seat, Illyrio whispered a few instructions to a servant beside him before taking his own seat.

Not much time had passed.

Two servants carefully carried a heavy chest up the stairs and placed it in front of Viserys.

Click—

The servant unlocked the chest with a key, and three dragon eggs were neatly arranged inside, cushioned by a layer of soft lantern grass.

"These are the dragon eggs..."

Viserys's gaze fell on the three dragon eggs in the chest, and his fingers involuntarily tightened a little. Although Viserys had become skilled at controlling his emotions, at this moment, he couldn't help but feel his heart race.

The young king then reached out to hold one of the dragon eggs, examining it closely.

The egg was cold to the touch, its shell covered in tiny scales. The light of the great hall shone on the egg, giving it a polished sheen.

They had rich textures and colors, and up close, they looked like exquisite ceramics, enamels, or blown glass. However, the dragon eggs were much heavier than these materials, feeling like solid stone.

Viserys felt that this huge dragon egg was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

"Your Grace."

"Ever since these dragon eggs were acquired by Lord Illyrio, they have been in his possession for many years without any movement."

At this point, the elderly Magister who had first spoken up once again took the lead in speaking.

"It seems that no one but the true Dragon's bloodline can hatch the dragons."

Chapter 89: Khal Baelbor

"Perhaps so."

Viserys held a dragon egg in his hand, tilting his head slightly to glance at the Magister of Pentos nearby, who had just spoken, and replied calmly.

He then returned his gaze to the three dragon eggs in his hand.

The colors of these three dragon eggs were stunning. The one he held now was a deep green, with an array of bronze spots revealed as Viserys turned it in different angles.

Inside the chest, two other eggs lay: one was a pale cream with golden streaks, while the last one was black. The black egg appeared to be slightly larger than the others, its deep surface resembling a midnight sea, yet it pulsed with the energy of dark red waves and swirls.

Viserys set down the green egg and picked up the largest black one, feeling its hefty weight on his wrist.

"Truly beautiful."

The reflection of the three dragon eggs shimmered in the young man's violet eyes, and his previously quickened heartbeat began to settle.

Viserys put the black egg back in the chest and looked up at Illyrio, asking, "My lord Magister, are there other important guests for this feast?"

Viserys noticed that the feast had not begun since his arrival. The magisters of Pentos were either silent or whispering among themselves, but none showed any impatience.

"Yes, Your Grace," Illyrio replied, turning his head to face Viserys from his seat. "Do you know of the Dothraki?"

Viserys nodded slightly, of course aware of the fierce nomadic tribe.

"Also invited to this feast is a Dothraki Khal."

"A Dothraki Horse Lord?"

"Who?"

Viserys, sitting in his chair, furrowed his brow upon hearing Illyrio's words, suddenly feeling a sense of foreboding.

It couldn't be a coincidence.

"Khal Baelbor, leader of a powerful Khalasar," Illyrio explained.

"Ah, Khal Baelbor."

Viserys recalled hearing the name from the Andals, and nodded, his furrowed brow relaxing somewhat.

Just then, a tumultuous noise erupted from outside the prince's palace. Several Dothraki men, bare-chested and wearing animal-hide vests adorned with painted patterns, bronze belts around their waists, stormed in.

At the forefront was a tall and muscular man, his bulging muscles apparent, his long black hair braided and hanging down his back, his beard rough and tangled, interspersed with strands of silver, and his skin somewhat slackened.

Following him were several Dothraki, each with an arakh curved blade at their waist.

"This is Khal Baelbor."

...

Seeing this scene, Illyrio whispered an explanation into Viserys's ear.

"Ah."

Viserys gave a slight nod, but his gaze remained fixed on a young Dothraki standing behind the elderly Khal.

The young Dothraki was taller and stronger than Khal Balbo, with bronze skin, bulging muscles, and explosive strength.

His face bore some resemblance to the older Khal in front of him, with deep black eyes and hair, a long beard, and his hair was braided into a long plait that reached down to his thighs, even longer than Khal Balbo's.

"Is he..."

Viserys's eyes narrowed slightly.

At this moment, the Dothraki who had rudely barged in were chattering in their incomprehensible language. As the translator whispered into the ear of the Pentoshi prince seated on the ivory and gold throne, his wooden expression showed panic for the first time.

The Pentoshi Magisters were in an uproar, seemingly unable to believe the words of their translators.

"Hmm?"

Viserys, who did not understand the Dothraki language, was unsure of what had happened. However, before he could ask, the elderly Khal and his bloodriders stormed up with an aggressive air.

The noble Prince of Pentos, bearing the prestigious surname of Rodney, seemed to be scared witless, looking helpless.

Standing beside him were the three heralds symbolizing trade, war, and law, who were also panicking and looking to the surrounding Pentoshi Magisters for help.

But no one responded to their pleading gazes.

The elderly Khal, accompanied by his bloodriders, ascended the steps and stood before the Pentoshi prince.

He reached out and pulled the terrified prince from the ivory and gold throne.

The herald holding a steel longsword, symbolizing war, tried to stop the elderly Khal in desperation.

Smack—

But his wrist was grabbed by the young, strong Dothraki standing behind the Khal.

The grip was like a steel clamp, and the powerful force nearly crushed the herald's wrist bones.

"Hmm?"

The young Dothraki's dark, deep eyes narrowed, and he plunged the steel longsword into the herald's chest.

Blood sprayed out, and the herald screamed in agony. The Dothraki released his grip, and the herald's body tumbled down the steps.

The bloodstained golden steps were a vivid contrast to the lifeless body lying at their base. The pool of blood grew larger, and there was no more movement.

The Prince of Pentos, removed from the throne and with his luxurious clothes torn, finally showed fear on his usually wooden expression. It seemed he realized the fate that awaited him.

One person was cowering in a corner of the high-ceilinged hall, a mysterious yellow liquid dripping from his trousers.

The other two heralds, pale from witnessing the brutal death of their comrade representing war, tried to lead the prince away, who was hiding in the corner.

However, the Rodney prince refused to leave the corner, remaining immovable even with both of them pulling at him.

The elderly Khal who had driven the Prince of Pentos away showed no courtesy, sitting directly on the throne. He then spoke a few more words to the petrified translator.

The translator, understanding the Dothraki language, hastily instructed a servant to bring another chair and place it next to the ivory and gold throne, allowing the young Dothraki who had been following the elderly Khal to sit beside him.

Chapter 90: Drogo

"This is my son, Drogo."

Khal Balbo sat casually on the throne of ivory and gold, his braids, slightly mixed with gray hair, hanging down his back. His pale amber eyes swept over everyone present.

He then patted his son Drogo on the shoulder and proudly introduced him in Dothraki.

"He is the greatest horse warrior in the world, destined to lead the Khalasar of Kalasa."

The old Khal's bloodriders stood behind him, their arakhs hanging at their waists, glaring fiercely at the surrounding magisters of Pentos, including the young King Viserys not far away.

The Khal's son Drogo, seated next to his father, was wiping the blood from his hands with the fine silk cloth that had just been placed on the table of the Prince of Pentos.

Drogo seemed somewhat silent and reticent, but he had not hesitated at all when he killed the herald symbolizing war just now, as easily as if he had pinched a chick to death.

Then Drogo heard his father's voice, raised his head slightly, and uttered only a low "hmm," without saying much.

His deep, dark gaze surveyed everyone present, lingering briefly on Viserys before moving on.

The quiet son of the Khal wasn't targeting Viserys; Drogo simply found it strange that such a young man would appear at this high-profile banquet.

The great hall was silent, filled only with hushed whispers.

Translators fluent in Dothraki were interpreting the words of the Horse Lord for their respective masters. All the magisters exchanged glances, unsure what to say.

Viserys, without a translator, did not understand what Khal Balbo was saying. He simply sat quietly in his seat, scrutinizing everyone present with an appraising gaze.

He found the banquet increasingly interesting, with a new discovery every second.

At first, Viserys was astonished by the barbaric rudeness of the Dothraki, shouting and yelling in the magnificent hall.

But as he watched the old Khal and his bloodriders charge up the steps, Viserys's thoughts shifted again, this time to the weakness of Pentos.

The drama did not stop there. Every minute, every second, there was a surprising revelation. The Prince of Pentos was so frightened by the Horse Lord that he wet his pants and was chased off the throne, cowering in a corner.

The herald, holding the steel longsword symbolizing war, was killed outright by the terrifying young Dothraki man, his body tossed down the steps.

Yet, the magisters of Pentos were frightened like cicadas in winter, wishing they could shrink their heads into their necks. None dared to speak up. Surprisingly, Viserys was the one who stood straightest among the "nobles" present.

"This..."

The intensity of these scenes left Viserys utterly shocked.

"Pentos... has become this weak?"

Viserys never imagined that a few Dothraki could so easily humiliate the magisters of Pentos.

Although the Prince of Pentos was merely a symbolic puppet, his humiliation as the nominal ruler of the city-state by the Dothraki, and the silence of the magisters, was astonishing. Moreover, this was happening in Pentos, their own territory.

When Viserys arrived in Pentos with 4,000 elite Andal warriors, the city was thrown into chaos, not even able to close its gates.

Yet at that time, Viserys still held a faint reverence for the ancient city-state.

After all, the towering walls and magnificent architecture all spoke of Pentos's deep and enduring history.

Andalos, although miraculously rising rapidly, was still far behind a massive city-state like Pentos in terms of historical heritage, population, economy, and military.

Although it seemed that Pentos couldn't even muster an army of ten thousand men at the moment, that was due to the constraints of humiliating treaties. Pentos still possessed considerable potential for war.

Now...

Viserys's last bit of reverence in his heart had vanished not long ago, leaving only cold observation of the farce unfolding before him, and even a hint of inner restlessness.

Subsequently, Viserys heard Khal Balbo mutter something in Dothraki, and then he slapped the young Dothraki beside him.

The Dothraki that Viserys had been watching for a long time raised his head and looked around. Everyone present swallowed hard when faced with the son of the Khal, and quickly lowered their heads, not daring to meet his eyes directly.

However, his gaze lingered on Viserys for a moment. The young king happened to be looking at him at the time.

Their eyes met.

Those deep, black eyes were as calm as an ancient well, as if they were examining a piece of prey.

Viserys, however, felt an intense sense of danger from his scalp to his heels, as if his instincts were warning him to stay away from a beast that could threaten his life.

"This guy..."

The young king's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his fingers on the table clenched involuntarily.

But Drogo's gaze only lingered on Viserys for a second, and then their eyes moved away from each other.

"Khal Balbo just said that person is his son, named Drogo."

"He is... one of the best mounted warriors in the world."

And at that moment...

Illyrio, who was sitting next to Viserys, watched the recent drama unfold with a similarly cold gaze, his face betraying no emotion. Then he whispered into Viserys's ear.

Illyrio didn't have a translator with him; he seemed to understand Dothraki himself.

"Hmm."

Viserys nodded slightly, then paused for a moment before turning his head to look at the wealthy Magister beside him.

"Magister, what did you say Khal Balbo's son's name is?"

Illyrio hesitated for a moment, then explained once again.

"Drogo."

"Drogo?"

Viserys sat in his chair, deep in thought for a while, blinking his eyes before taking a deep breath.

In fact, when suddenly faced with the man who would kill him in the original timeline, he thought he would be afraid and panicked. After all, not many people could face their own mortality with indifference, especially the one who would take their life.

But the reality was...

Viserys tried to feel for any such emotions, but discovered that his heart didn't seem to harbor them.

He just suddenly felt...

Fate, ineffable.

Chapter 91: Mansion

Illyrio was unaware of what Viserys was thinking, but he noticed that the young king's expression changed slightly upon hearing the name of Drogo, the son of Balbo Caho. It was as if he had heard the name somewhere before.

"Old Caho is building up his son's reputation."

On the other side, Balbo Caho sat on a throne of ivory and gold, raising his wine glass, still speaking words Viserys could not understand.

The rest of the Pentos Magisters, including Illyrio and Viserys, also raised their glasses and drank them down.

Viserys, however, did not drink wine; his cup was filled with milk.

He knew that his current age was not suitable for drinking, and that drinking milk helped with physical development, providing an abundance of protein. This opportunity for growth would not come again later.

Illyrio sat beside Viserys, continuing to explain in a low voice.

While the other Magisters were in awe of the Horse King, Illyrio valued communication with Viserys more.

"Building up reputation?"

Viserys held his cup and turned to look at Illyrio, who patiently explained.

"Each Khalasar consists of several kas, and each kas is led by a ko. The Khal is the bravest warrior among the entire tribe."

"But Balbo Caho is old now..."

"In fact, few Khals meet a good end."

Illyrio and Viserys conversed quietly, but his last sentence was somewhat profound.

By now, the feast had begun under the command of old Khal Caho. Even the absence of the Prince of Pentos did not affect the feast's progress.

Not far away, Balbo Caho continued to raise his glass while the Magisters of Pentos showered him with flattery.

Illyrio, on the other hand, observed coldly and continued speaking.

"If someone were to challenge old Caho now, declaring that he is no longer the bravest warrior in the tribe and cannot lead the entire Khalasar, Balbo Caho could not refuse the challenge."

"And he is indeed old now, losing confidence."

"He fears he will die in the challenge and is even more afraid that after his death, Drogo will not be able to inherit the position of Khal."

So that's how it is.

Viserys nodded slightly as he listened to Illyrio's words. It seemed that Balbo Caho indeed did not have many years left.

However, his worries were unnecessary.

His son Drogo had never lost a battle since his birth and naturally held the advantage in the struggle for the position of Khal.

And in the future, he would lead his Khalasar to become the most powerful tribe in the Dothraki Sea.

...

Although one person had died, and the Prince of Pentos was expelled from his throne and utterly humiliated, the feast went on quite smoothly.

The guests at the feast were all very drunk, including old Khal Caho himself. However, his bloodriders and his son Drogo remained extremely sober, watching these people with cold eyes.

As the feast was about to end, Illyrio told Viserys that the Magisters had given him a gift.

After the guests had dispersed, Viserys left the prince's palace, where a hundred Andal warriors were still waiting orderly outside.

On the other side, several Dothraki had also gathered, baring their chests, sitting nonchalantly on the steps in front of the prince's palace.

Fortunately, no conflict arose between the two groups.

Although the Dothraki looked down on armored soldiers, considering it a cowardly practice, they were not fools. Without their horses, they knew that they knew that these disciplined, heavily-armored warriors were not to be trifled with.

Even with more Dothraki, if a fight broke out on foot, it would be a one-sided battle.

"Let's go."

Viserys, stepping out of the palace, took the reins of his warhorse from a servant and mounted it.

With a wave of his hand, the hundred knights who accompanied him also mounted their horses.

On the other side, the loud, boisterous Dothraki who had been sitting and laughing on the steps saw the armored knights leaving but didn't say anything.

The Dothraki horselord and his bloodriders emerged from the crowd, though the Khal seemed quite drunk.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

The sound of horses' hooves filled the air as Viserys led his knights away from the scene.

Not far off, Drogo, supporting his father, glanced once more at Viserys's retreating figure, his deep, dark eyes betraying no emotion.

"What's wrong?"

"Drogo."

A bloodrider of Khal Balbo, who had held Drogo as a child, astutely noticed that he was paying attention to the young man.

"He is the Targaryen exile king, now the lord of Andalos."

The bloodrider was aware of Viserys's background, having just learned of it during the feast. He didn't understand the full meaning of the "Targaryen exile king," only recognizing the name Andalos.

"It's nothing."

Drogo simply shook his head, his voice low and terse.

Initially, he had noticed Viserys because of his youth and had held his gaze for a moment. Their eyes had met, and Drogo felt something complex in the silver-haired youth's gaze, as if he knew him somehow.

While accompanying his father, Drogo noticed that Viserys had occasionally glanced at him.

The long-braided man supported his father and then gently touched his own cheek.

For the first time, he felt a chill down his spine.

This strange feeling made him uncomfortable. He flexed his neck and then clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking.

He had a feeling he would encounter this fellow again, perhaps when he became a Khal and raided Andalos.

...

On the other side, Viserys was unaware that he had caught Drogo's attention simply by looking at him several times, and that the imaginative and vengeful young man was now fixated on him.

Drogo even thought of inheriting the Khalasar one day and leading an army to raid Andalos.

However, for the Dothraki, raiding was a part of their lives, as normal as eating and drinking, so it was not surprising that they would target anyone.

Viserys was now leading his knights to the east of Pentos.

It was near the massive red temple, a landmark visible from anywhere in the city.

Illyrio had told him that the Pentoshi Magisters had given him another gift.

Neigh...

Viserys's warhorse neighed and stamped its hooves restlessly.

Before him was a large courtyard with tall brick walls, an expansive, ornate gate, rock gardens, a three-story residence, and ivy-covered walls.

This was the gift from the Magisters to Viserys: a magnificent mansion within Pentos.

"Open the gates."

Viserys dismounted his horse and spoke to the servants at the entrance.

...

Chapter 92: The Land of Right and Wrong

"Master."

"Master."

Servants along the way bowed respectfully.

Without a doubt, the mansion was once again filled with treasures of gold and silver, as well as countless servants, hot spring baths, a three-story tower, pavilions, and terraces. From the highest sun terrace, one could overlook the artificial mountains and flowing water gardens below.

Viserys stood on the highest terrace, looking down at the scenery. The entire courtyard was unlit, with only the sound of water flowing and servants moving boxes.

The young man's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, clad in a neat leather armor. A white fur shawl draped over his shoulders, with a dark cape fluttering behind him in the breeze.

Behind him stood his squire.

"Your Majesty."

"I have a feeling that Pentos is not up to anything good."

Bessie had been quietly accompanying Viserys without saying a word, but finally couldn't help but speak up.

Even the young king himself had some doubts.

Viserys had thought that Pentos, having invited him and gifted him precious dragon eggs, would also make some demands in return.

However, the Magisters of Pentos did not do so.

They made no requests whatsoever and even invited a Dothraki horselord to attend a high-level feast, with plenty of good food, drinks, and hospitality, as well as numerous gifts to take.

What did Pentos want to do?

Viserys was slightly puzzled, and as he stood on the terrace of the mansion, he contemplated the whole issue.

Pentos' current behavior reminded him of an old story.

Did Pentos want him to indulge in the riches, wine, and women, so he would forget about returning to Westeros and endure the hardships there?

After Bessie finished speaking, Viserys still stood in place for a while without saying anything. The squire's heart grew uneasy, fearing he had said something wrong.

However, soon he saw Viserys, who was standing in front of him with only his back visible, lift his head as if he had finally figured something out.

Viserys slightly turned his head to glance at the knight behind him and calmly said, "You're right, Bessie."

"Pentos indeed has no good intentions."

Under the bright moonlight, the young man's silhouette was elongated on the terrace, with his silver-gold hair swaying in the breeze.

"We should not stay here for long."

"Urge them to speed up. Once everything is packed, we must leave this place and set out for Westeros."

Viserys didn't turn around but spoke calmly.

"Understood!"

The slightly dark-cheeked squire felt a bit invigorated when Viserys agreed with his viewpoint.

However, he didn't know what Viserys meant by 'Pentos is not a place to linger,' and Viserys didn't elaborate.

With his anxiety rising again, he hurriedly ran down to instruct the servants and knights to quickly pack up the treasures and prepare to leave.

...

Soon enough.

Deep into the night.

Viserys and his knights had packed everything, including the three most important dragon eggs.

They then led everyone straight to the north gate of Pentos.

Clatter, clatter, clatter...

In the dead of night.

The crisp, chaotic sound of hooves echoed on the spacious cobblestone streets of Pentos. Viserys arrived at the northern gate of the city and demanded the gates be opened so he could leave.

"Open the gate!"

At that moment.

A commotion seemed to be coming from the distant palace atop the colossal nine-tower cluster, accompanied by the faint glimmer of fire.

Viserys, sitting on his horse, glanced back at the direction of the palace. He had just led his soldiers through the chaos and heard a vague rumor that Khal Balbo had been challenged and killed.

Now, the Dothraki who had entered Pentos seemed to be vying for the position of the new Khal. The late Khal's bloodriders would exact vengeance and then commit suicide.

The kos of various Khalasars were also prime candidates for the Khal's position, and they had their people.

Viserys had long heard that tens of thousands of Dothraki had come to Pentos with the old Khal and were now waiting outside the city. They hadn't encountered the Andal warriors, so they were in a different location.

The old Khal's son, Drogo, was also a leading contender for the position of Khal.

Viserys didn't care much about this contest for the Khal's position, nor did he know if Drogo could successfully seize the position under his influence.

What concerned him now was the sudden news of the old Khal's death.

He had just heard in the chaos that a Dothraki had stepped forward to challenge the old Khal and succeeded in killing him.

However, Viserys couldn't shake the feeling of a thick conspiracy.

It might have something to do with Pentos, or perhaps it had nothing to do with the city.

But accepting the invitation to the feast here was the only time Khal Balbo had left the protection of his army.

Otherwise, the Khal, who was protected by countless horseback warriors in his Khalasar, wouldn't have been easily accessible and open to challenge.

According to Dothraki tradition, a Khal leading a Khalasar couldn't refuse the challenge of a fellow tribesman. But if Dothraki kept challenging their Khal, wouldn't the Khal be exhausted?

At the moment, Viserys had no time to think more about it. Outside, there were tens of thousands of Dothraki, like a massive ticking time bomb that could explode and harm the surrounding innocents at any moment.

If they learned that their Khal was dead and each khas received orders from their ko, who knew what could happen.

Viserys, holding the token of the Magister of Pentos, Illyrio, naturally requested the gate be opened so he could leave the city.

The soldiers didn't dare provoke the hundred-odd iron-clad knights and opened the city gate for Viserys.

"Hurry!"

Viserys spurred his warhorse and charged out of the gates of Pentos, followed closely by a hundred knights who also rushed out.

Viserys then arrived at the encampment of the Andalos army, ordering the soldiers who had been resting for half a day to break camp and quickly leave this place, which was soon to become a troubled area.

The night was deep and quiet.

Viserys stood outside the city, feeling the sea breeze. The night wind carried a deep chill that seeped into his clothes. The young king tightened his collar slightly.

Clatter…

His white horse easily ascended the high ridge and then turned around.

Viserys stood atop the ridge, watching his soldiers below packing up and preparing to leave. He also raised his head and looked into the distance.

In the east of Pentos, chaos had erupted. The tens of thousands of Dothraki waiting outside the city seemed to have already learned of the Khal's death.

And within Pentos, a raging fire was reflected in the young king's pale purple eyes.

He turned his horse around once more.

"Let's go!" ...

Chapter 93: Going Home

Viserys led his army away from Pentos.

After a night had passed, the sky finally began to lighten.

The great fire in Pentos had been extinguished, and it seemed that the struggle for the title of Khal had come to an end.

In the early morning, the gates of Pentos finally opened.

The frightened citizens of Pentos mustered the courage to leave their homes, the air filled with the stench of death and the scent of burnt remains.

At this moment, the ancient Valyrian road that led from the east of Pentos to Norvos was littered with corpses.

It was a feast for the carrion-eaters.

Vultures swooped down from the sky, eager to partake in the feast, only to be chased away by the surviving Dothraki. The carrion-eaters circled in the sky, crying out mournfully.

Last night, this once powerful Khalasar had fractured in the wake of Khal Borbo's death.

Several leaders of their respective khas, along with Drogo, who remained loyal to his father, engaged in a fierce battle to claim the title of Khal according to the ancient traditions of the Dothraki.

At the same time, two khas escaped the chaos, unwilling to let their people be drawn into the cruel grinder of violence.

Under the leadership of their respective Khals, these two khas left the Khalasar and set off into the night, returning to the Great Grass Sea to form new tribes or join other Khals.

The struggle for the title of Khal concluded with Borbo's son, Drogo, emerging as the sole surviving contender.

The other leaders of the khas had been personally killed by Drogo.

In the brutal traditions of the Dothraki, failure allowed for no options other than death.

Drogo killed all his competitors with his own hands, reassembling the shattered remnants of his father's Khalasar and becoming Khal Drogo.

After a night of chaos, the once-powerful Khalasar was in tatters, with only a tenth of its former strength remaining. However, Khal Drogo did not immediately leave Pentos to return to his homeland and find a place without other Khals to quietly nurse his wounds.

Instead, he led his newly reassembled Khalasar with great momentum to the north of Pentos, seemingly intending to plunder the army of Andalos to make up for the previous night's losses.

However, when Khal Drogo arrived with his Khalasar, he learned that Viserys and the Andalosian army had already broken camp and left the area the night before.

Although the Dothraki were a swift horse-riding people, capable of pursuing the Andalosian army even if they began now, Drogo, who had just become Khal, ultimately decided against chasing them.

After inheriting his father's Khalasar of tens of thousands of warriors, only about three thousand remained after the brutal night of fighting. With fewer men than a minor king, and having just experienced a night of combat, chasing after the well-rested and strong Andalosian army would have been a foolhardy endeavor.

Despite his confidence in his troops' morale and fighting ability, Drogo had to consider the possibility of failure and losses.

He knew that even if he won, he would be left with nothing but the title of Khal.

So, Khal Drogo had no choice but to abandon the idea of plundering Andalos, although he had hoped to regain some of his losses through a surprise attack.

Sitting atop a powerful and shaggy black-maned horse, Drogo's eyes were deep and inscrutable.

...

His shoulder was still wrapped in a bandage, with a faint trace of blood seeping through, a souvenir from the skirmish the night before. He then swung his whip fiercely in the air.

Crack—

It sounded like a clap of thunder. He then turned his horse around and bellowed in the guttural, rough Dothraki tongue.

"Home!"

The newly-formed Khalasar erupted into deafening cheers.

"Roar, roar, roar!"

Dothraki warriors rode on horseback, raising their arakhs in celebration.

Dothraki people generally had no permanent home, and wherever they went became their home. To them, 'home' naturally meant returning to their homeland, the vast Dothraki Sea.

...

Some time later.

The small king led his army on a forced march back to Andalos, and finally saw the shadow of the city with its simple walls.

Boom, boom, boom—

The castle gates opened.

Viserys had just returned to the castle, removed his armor, and had not even had time to take a hot bath when Rhaenys and Daenerys hurried over.

"Brother, you're finally back!"

The brown-haired girl, holding a little girl's hand, barged straight into Viserys' bedroom.

Viserys had just removed his outer garment, his soft hair cascading down his back, revealing the well-proportioned muscles beneath. Hearing the voices behind him, he turned his head slightly, exposing his perfect facial features beneath his silver hair.

Viserys didn't look very strong, just having a well-balanced figure without large muscles and even appearing a bit slender.

Yet he could unleash powerful strength, knocking Bessie off her horse and not wavering in the slightest as his legs gripped the horse's belly. This strong core strength was indeed enviable.

"Ah..."

The girl blushed upon seeing Viserys changing clothes.

But she still showed a disdainful expression.

"Rhaenys, how many times have I told you?"

"Don't barge in without knocking."

With his back to Rhaenys, Viserys found a clean shirt to put on before turning around to face the girl behind him, speaking calmly.

"Tsk, it's not like I haven't seen it before. Why the secrecy?"

Hearing Viserys start to lecture her again, Rhaenys pouted slightly.

Members of House Targaryen had difficult lives. After Queen Rhaella's death, Viserys and Rhaenys relied on each other for support.

The two even had to jointly raise a younger child, as if raising a daughter of their own.

Rhaenys grew up quickly in this process, taking care of her younger aunt.

Not trusting servants to do it, Rhaenys even changed her aunt's diapers, taught her to walk, talk, clean herself, and dress.

While the two were talking, little Daenerys, who had been holding Rhaenys' hand, hesitated to speak up several times.

Finally, unable to hold back, she timidly raised her small hand in protest.

"Hey, Rhaenys, he...he's my brother."

"Not your brother."

Chapter 94: Dragons

Hearing Daenerys's timid words, Viserys and Rhaenys exchanged glances and then simultaneously broke into smiles.

"Oh, yes, your brother."

The brown-haired girl crouched down and pinched her 'little aunt's' cheeks until they were flushed.

The little girl struggled and finally escaped Rhaenys's grasp, running to Viserys's side and hiding behind him.

"Brother, Rhaenys is bullying me!"

Daenerys, as if she had found her support, hid behind him, clutching the young man's clothes. Her little face, just reddened from the pinching, puffed up her cheeks indignantly, accusing Rhaenys.

Viserys, seeing this warm scene, couldn't help but reveal a hint of a smile. He then bent down, stroked the little girl's soft hair, and pulled her to his side.

He then raised his head and spoke.

"I have a gift for you both."

"What?"

Hearing that Viserys had a gift for them, the attention of the two girls immediately shifted, their faces full of anticipation as they looked at him.

"Dragon eggs."

"What?"

Rhaenys was somewhat incredulous, thinking she had misheard.

"Dragon eggs?"

She was not like Daenerys, still a little girl who knew nothing. She knew what dragon eggs were and was aware of the fate of their family.

And dragons were closely intertwined with their family's fate.

"Really?"

"Did you go to Pentos this time just for the dragon eggs?"

The brown-haired girl's face was full of disbelief. In fact, Viserys had not told Rhaenys the real purpose of his trip in advance, fearing that she would worry. However, Viserys had now returned successfully and had obtained the dragon eggs.

The indignant little girl hiding behind Viserys heard the name 'dragon eggs', and her beautiful purple eyes also sparkled. She tugged at the young man's clothes and peeked out from behind him.

"Brother, can dragon eggs hatch dragons?"

Viserys felt the tug on his clothes and lowered his head to listen to the little girl's question but did not answer her immediately.

Rhaenys, after her initial shock, also raised her delicate chin and looked at Viserys. She, too, wanted to know the answer.

Dragon eggs... can they hatch dragons?

Faced with the expectant gazes of the two girls, the silver-haired boy stared at an ancient black wooden box, somewhat lost in thought, but eventually nodded.

"Perhaps there's a chance."

"Rhaenys, Daenerys."

"Although these three dragon eggs are already countless years old and have turned into fossils, I believe that if you both put your hearts into hatching them, perhaps you can truly hatch baby dragons."

Viserys raised his head, his voice calm as he spoke.

At the same time, he looked more intently at his sister Daenerys, who was hiding behind him with a face full of expectation and longing for the dragon eggs.

That was because these three dragon eggs were the ones that his sister would hatch in the future, becoming the Mother of Dragons.

However, in this life, fate had changed, and Viserys did not know whether Daenerys could still possess that magical power.

...

True Dragon Bloodline?

Nowadays, Viserys, Rhaenys, and Daenerys all possess the Targaryen bloodline.

Viserys and Daenerys have the purer bloodline, which is evident in their distinct Valyrian features.

Rhaenys has half Dornish blood, with brown hair and black eyes, making her Targaryen traits less apparent.

The conditions for hatching a dragon are quite strict; Viserys knows it requires fire, a life exchange, and true dragon blood.

Viserys isn't sure whether his and Rhaenys' Targaryen blood can be considered true dragon blood, but there's no doubt that Daenerys' bloodline seems more potent.

"Wow, I want to hatch a dragon baby."

As expected, the two girls become excited upon hearing that the dragon eggs might hatch.

Viserys then uses a key to unlock the box containing the three dragon eggs on the table.

Click—

He lifts the lid, revealing the three huge dragon eggs protected by lamplight grass, each one quite hefty.

"These are dragon eggs."

Sunlight streams in through the window.

Viserys gazes at the three dragon eggs, feeling an inexplicable surge of emotion each time he sees them.

"They're so beautiful..."

The brown-haired girl is immediately drawn to the eggs, even staring at them as if they're the most beautiful things in the world.

"Brother, I want to see too."

Daenerys hides behind Viserys, unable to see the eggs on the table due to her height.

She tugs on Viserys' sleeve, and he lifts her onto a chair so she can see the eggs in the box.

Both Daenerys and Rhaenys are captivated by the eggs, as if they're magnets drawing their gaze.

Perhaps they share the same feelings as Viserys; the Targaryen bloodline might have a unique connection with dragon eggs.

Years ago, Viserys spent a fortune trying to acquire dragon eggs, but he easily identified many frauds using dyed stones to impersonate the real thing.

"Rhaenys, Daenerys."

"Choose one each."

Viserys falls silent for a moment, shifting his gaze from the eggs to the two girls, still staring blankly at the eggs.

This is Viserys' plan—to have all three Targaryens, including himself, attempt to hatch the dragon eggs together.

He recalls what his magical and mystical advisor, Miss Melisandre, once said.

"When glass candles burn again, ghost grass grows anew, dragon fire scorches the earth, phantom turtles haunt the warlock's way, the blind see once more, and those who have shamed warlocks are cursed."

"These signs all represent the return of magic; the power of magic might revive once again."

It's clear that dragons and magic are closely related.

Yet the tide of magic has not arrived, and witches have no power.

Can dragons truly be hatched in this age without magic?

Viserys can't help but think of the Targaryen family history he's read so thoroughly.

The last Targaryen dragon was as small as a human child.

Was it because of the Citadel's conspiracy, or was it simply born at the tail end of the magical tide, that it faced such an unjust fate?

Then...

If it were born a few decades earlier, would it have become a ruler of the skies?

...

Chapter 95: The Name

Viserys didn't have an answer to the question about the connection between dragons and the tide of magic.

He allowed Rhaenys and Daenerys to choose their favorite dragon eggs. Unexpectedly, both girls made their selections instantly.

"I want this one!"

"I want this one!"

The brown-haired girl and the silver-gold-haired little girl spoke almost in unison, pointing at a pale milky-white egg with golden stripes, lying quietly next to the largest black dragon egg.

"Hey, Daenerys, I said it first."

Rhaenys didn't expect Daenerys to have the same choice as her. Since both girls spoke nearly simultaneously, it was hard to tell if Rhaenys was a step ahead.

However, the usually demure Daenerys unexpectedly stepped forward, hugged the pale milky-white dragon egg, and refused to give it to Rhaenys.

"No...no, I said it first!"

The silver-haired little girl clung to the dragon egg and stubbornly argued, even though her reasoning wasn't solid.

"You're cheating!"

Rhaenys was infuriated by Daenerys' deceitful behavior.

She never expected her usually well-behaved little aunt to suddenly become so dishonest.

"Hmph, you're the cheater."

Daenerys refused to let go of the pale milky-white dragon egg, no matter what Rhaenys said. She even mimicked Rhaenys' words to mock her.

"You...you..."

Rhaenys was rendered momentarily speechless by Daenerys' repetition of her words. She widened her lovely eyes, not knowing what to say.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

The brown-haired girl finally broke down.

She was infuriated by Daenerys' stubborn and defiant attitude, even wanting to scratch the walls.

However, Rhaenys couldn't do anything to Daenerys, as she was her little aunt.

"Viserys! She...she's cheating!!"

Feeling incredibly wronged, Rhaenys looked to Viserys for help, hoping he would bring her justice.

Seeing the usually lively and mischievous Rhaenys frustrated by Daenerys, Viserys couldn't help but smile.

"Why do you both want this white dragon egg?"

Viserys was curious why they both had their eyes on the pale milky-white dragon egg.

"Because it's beautiful!"

The two girls once again spoke in unison, leaving Viserys blinking in surprise.

He didn't expect the girls' reason for choosing a dragon egg to be so simple. He had thought Rhaenys and Daenerys discovered something about the pale milky-white egg that he had missed.

"Well..."

"Since Daenerys likes it, why don't you let her have it?"

Viserys tried to mediate between the two girls. It wasn't easy dealing with children, so he had to seek a breakthrough with the slightly older Rhaenys.

"Psst—"

In truth, Rhaenys wasn't insistent on having the pale milky white dragon egg.

She didn't really want to fight with a little girl over something; she was just a bit annoyed earlier.

Aren't we all children at times?

The brown-haired girl pouted slightly but eventually agreed, giving the pale milky white dragon egg to Daenerys.

"Alright."

"Then I'll take this one."

Afterward, Rhaenys pointed to the deep green dragon egg that, upon a slight rotation, revealed various bronze spots and exuded an ancient, desolate aura.

Daenerys took the pale milky white dragon egg, Rhaenys claimed the deep green one, and the last and largest egg, a black one reminiscent of a midnight sea, was left for Viserys.

"Why didn't either of you choose this one?"

Viserys was puzzled that neither Rhaenys nor Daenerys had picked the obviously largest black dragon egg.

The egg was black and profound, with faint, surging dark red waves and whirls, even its appearance was no less stunning than the pale milky white dragon egg.

Rhaenys struggled to lift the deep green dragon egg in her arms but failed. The egg was as heavy as a solid stone, while Daenerys still held her dragon egg tightly, refusing to let go.

Although Daenerys was young, she was clever and knew Rhaenys too well.

Daenerys understood that if she dared to let go, Rhaenys would immediately snatch the egg away in the next second.

Seeing Daenerys still holding the dragon egg tightly, Rhaenys cast several glances but couldn't find an opportunity, ultimately pouting in frustration and giving up.

"Hmph—"

Then Rhaenys heard Viserys' question, looked at him, and hummed lightly, still seemingly displeased about the earlier incident, but proceeded to explain.

"Because you need it more than we do."

"Viserys."

That was the only unspoken understanding between her and Daenerys.

Both girls saw the greater potential and beauty in the black dragon egg. However, Daenerys and Rhaenys chose to leave the egg for Viserys without a second thought.

Because they knew Viserys needed it more than they did.

"Is that so?"

Viserys was taken aback by Rhaenys' response.

He then turned to look at Daenerys' expression and saw the same conclusion.

Eventually, he pursed his lips and nodded silently, not dwelling on the topic, and then asked:

"If they hatch, what names would you give them?"

Viserys intentionally changed the subject, perhaps because he wasn't good at indulging in sentimentality.

The game of power he was in didn't allow for excessive sentimentality either.

"Rhaego."

This time, Rhaenys was the first to answer the question, her heart seemingly settled on an answer long ago.

"Rhaego?"

Viserys tilted his head slightly, seeing the sadness in the brown-haired girl's eyes and immediately understanding.

Rhaenys named her dragon egg Rhaego to commemorate her father and Viserys' elder brother, Rhaegar Targaryen.

Meanwhile, Daenerys was somewhat conflicted.

She thought of the mother she had never met and the father she had heard was full of evil deeds. After struggling for a while, she finally came up with a name.

"Viserion!"

Chapter 96: The Fleet

Daenerys and Rhaenys, the two girls, both gave their dragon eggs the most fitting names.

Rhaenys wanted to commemorate her father Rhaegar, so she named her dragon Rhaego. Daenerys, who had never seen her parents or eldest brother since birth, had Viserys as her whole world. Therefore, the young girl named her dragon egg Viserion.

"So... what are you going to name your dragon egg?"

The slightly older girl among the two looked at the deep black dragon egg and raised her head curiously to ask the question.

Upon hearing the question, Viserys pondered for a moment.

He wasn't sure if it was a coincidence, but the white dragon Viserion and the green dragon Rhaego both happened to have these names. However, Viserys' black dragon was not going to be named Drogon.

"If it can hatch..."

Viserys nodded slightly, then hesitated for a moment.

"I plan to name it Balerion."

At this moment,

"Meow?"

Rhaenys' little black cat happened to pass by the window, and upon hearing Viserys' voice, it turned its head with a puzzled look, thinking Viserys was calling for it.

The atmosphere in the room froze for a second.

Then,

"Pfffthahaha!"

"I mean, brother, why would you name your dragon egg after a cat?"

The brown-haired girl couldn't help but laugh uproariously, leaning forward and backward, tears streaming down her face.

Viserys' expression darkened slightly.

"Rhaenys, go back and copy our family history!"

Of course, Rhaenys knew that Balerion wasn't just the name of a cat. She was the one who named the little black cat Balerion.

Balerion was also the name of the enormous black dragon ridden by Aegon the Conqueror when he conquered Westeros. The dragon was over 150 meters in length, known as the 'Black Dread', the true ruler of the skies.

The girl was merely teasing Viserys.

However, Rhaenys didn't know the full story behind the name 'Balerion.'

"Both of you listen well, I'll give you a little history lesson."

Viserys leaned against the table and sighed.

"Balerion is not only the name of the cat and Aegon's dragon, the 'Black Dread,' but it is also the name of a deity in the ancient Valyrian civilization."

"Meow~"

As Viserys was speaking, the little black cat jumped in from the window.

It rubbed its fluffy head against Viserys' pant leg, truly believing that Viserys had just called for it.

The silver-haired boy crouched down, picked up the affectionate little black cat, and held it in his arms while continuing to explain seriously.

Although Rhaenys had received an elite education from the royal family and had been provided with the best teachers, her knowledge was not as profound as Viserys'.

Viserys, in his quest to investigate the connection between the black fog and the Valyrian civilization, tirelessly read many books about this once-lost civilization and learned many ancient Valyrian stories.

"Aegon the Conqueror's three dragons - Balerion was one of the five dragons that survived the Doom of Valyria. Later, on Dragonstone, Vhagar and Meraxes hatched."

"The names of all three dragons come from the names of gods in the Valyrian civilization."

...

Viserys was educating two young girls about the ancient gods of Valyria.

At that moment, a knock came at his door.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Your Grace," called a guard from outside.

"Sir Joffrey requests an audience."

Upon hearing that the young king had returned from Pentos to Andalos, the old knight had ridden a swift horse from the harbor to meet him.

"Hmm?" Viserys paused upon hearing the news of the old knight's arrival.

He set down the black dragon egg he was holding, locked the chest, and returned it to its original position.

"Eh?" The two girls watched as Viserys closed the chest, worried he might change his mind. However, Viserys merely shook his head.

"I have some matters to attend to first," he said. "When I return, I will give you both these dragon eggs."

With that, Viserys hastily left the room and headed for the great hall.

In Andalos, Viserys wielded the majority of power. He managed the affairs of the city and commanded its soldiers.

Sir Joffrey, however, still controlled House Targaryen's fleet, guarding the coastline and Dragonstone. He also managed many affairs on Dragonstone, making him the second most powerful figure within House Targaryen.

His power and position were well established, and even the accomplished Prince Oberyn of Dorne could not challenge the old knight's status.

However, Andalos was far from the coastline, so Viserys was surprised that Sir Joffrey had come from either the harbor or Dragonstone. Clearly, something urgent had occurred, prompting Viserys to rush to meet him.

"Your Grace," greeted the white-haired Sir Joffrey, already waiting in the castle's great hall. A golden badge adorned his chest, making him look particularly spirited.

"Your Grace," chimed in Prince Oberyn, who commanded 2,000 guards in the city-state, as well as Maester Gunther of Dragonstone.

This was the highest level of assembly in Andalos.

"Sir Joffrey, it's been a long time," Viserys said as he took his seat. "You still look as dignified as ever."

The commander of the Dragonstone fleet, who also served as the Hand of the King and Master of Ships, was not only a guiding light in Viserys's life but also a father figure.

Due to the distance between them, Sir Joffrey would occasionally return to Dragonstone to handle affairs. The two hadn't seen each other for over half a year.

Nevertheless, the old knight remained loyal and without any ulterior motives.

"Your Grace, it has indeed been some time," the elderly man with white hair said, sitting closest to Viserys's left. His slightly yellowed, aged eyes looked at the increasingly sharp young man before him, and his last bit of concern vanished.

Viserys could manage the city alone and had not become arrogant or decadent due to a lack of control.

Then, Sir Joffrey leaned forward slightly, his expression growing serious as he put away his smile and got to the point.

"Your Grace," he began, "the Usurper's new fleet has been completed."

Chapter 97: Burning

"Is it already completed?"

Upon hearing the old knight's words, Viserys's expression became slightly serious, but he didn't seem too shocked.

After all, the Iron Throne had been collecting information on Andalos, and at the same time, Andalos had its fair share of 'insiders' in Westeros.

Viserys had established a foothold on the continent of Essos, and by now, more than a dozen nobles had contacted him, expressing their 'wishes for the king's good health and the swift return of the royal army.'

These nobles were all families that had been unfairly treated or even suffered losses after Baratheon took the Iron Throne.

After all, when Robert sat on the Iron Throne, he had to reward the majority of the benefits to the families that had joined him in rebellion, and these benefits were originally the interests of the families that later surrendered.

This resulted in cheers from the beneficiaries and resentment from the other parties.

This was the unavoidable pain in the transfer of power, which required time to adapt and get used to the new era of Targaryen-free distribution of benefits.

Unfortunately, the remnants of the Targaryens were not entirely extinguished. First, they staged a desperate counterattack on Dragonstone, inflicting a heavy blow on the Baratheons. Then, they regained their footing on the continent of Essos, poised to make a comeback.

Because of Viserys's existence, Robert, or rather his foster father and Hand of the King Jon Arryn, saw the time required to reconcile domestic inequality of interests greatly extended.

Now they needed even more time to completely erase the memory of the Targaryens from the various factions within the realm and adapt to the new era's distribution of benefits.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons why the Hand of the King finally agreed to the new fleet plan and Robert was determined to exterminate the remnants of the Targaryens.

A few months before Viserys was preparing to embark for Pentos, he had already received news that Baratheon's new royal fleet had been completed.

However, he didn't expect it to be delayed for several more months, as it seemed that Stannis had made thorough preparations and was extremely cautious this time.

He even released a lot of false information to confuse the enemy across the Narrow Sea, but the Targaryens didn't fall for it this time.

After all, the previous surprise attack had many factors, such as timing, location, and allies, and ultimately achieved such a brilliant victory that it was almost impossible to replicate.

Attempting another surprise attack on the royal fleet led by Stannis might fall into the enemy's trap, resulting in the loss of troops and ships.

The old knight, who had commanded the Dragonstone fleet for many years, was naturally well-versed in naval warfare and was more prudent in using troops.

And now, he had hurried over from Dragonstone to discuss countermeasures for this matter with Viserys.

"Should we fight, or should we retreat?"

The silver-haired young man, dressed in a simple coarse cloth shirt and trousers, sat in the central position of the Andalos castle's great hall. One hand supported his cheek, and his gaze seemed to be lost on a pen on the table.

In the early stages of Viserys's plan, there was already an arrangement for Dragonstone.

That was to retreat to the Andalos Plain first, then build a castle here to stabilize their footing. If the day came when the Baratheons attacked Dragonstone again, they would avoid battle and hand over Dragonstone to them.

This would maximize the withdrawal of their battle lines, condense their strength, and form the hardest fist.

Even after all these years had passed, he had already ransacked Dragonstone, bringing everything that could be moved from the island.

This even included some dragon bones, dragonglass or obsidian, and some stones that resembled dragon eggs. However, when they were carefully extracted, it turned out that they were just ordinary stones.

"Are we really going to abandon Dragonstone?" Viserys asked, with a hint of reluctance and indecision.

Prince Oberyn, seated at the first position to the right of Viserys, was idly playing with his fingers, his legs crossed. Hearing Viserys' question, he raised his head, and his dark eyes gazed at the young king.

"If you are unwilling to give up a small advantage, it could easily disrupt the bigger picture," Prince Oberyn said wisely. Despite his swarthy skin, unkempt hair, and scruffy beard, Oberyn was not someone to be underestimated. He was, in fact, the most learned person in the room, a true prodigy.

In his youth, Oberyn had studied in the Citadel and had forged six maester's chains, symbolizing his mastery in six different fields.

Even the grey-robed maester, Guncer, who was present at the meeting, had to address Oberyn as 'senior', as he only had three chains to his name.

"The usurper's naval forces are not as elite as ours, but their ships are sturdier and larger," Maester Guncer chimed in.

As the maester of Dragonstone, he had been assisting the old knight in managing the island's affairs and had also helped Viserys in Andalos. Guncer was even busier than the rest of them, frequently traveling between the two locations. Fortunately, he had trained apprentices to help maintain the regular sending and receiving of ravens.

"I understand," Viserys said, nodding. The entire Small Council agreed not to disrupt the original plan, but to continue building up their strength and waiting for the right opportunity to join forces with Dorne and return to Westeros.

"In that case, when Stannis' fleet arrives, we'll voluntarily withdraw from Dragonstone," Viserys decided, opting to continue focusing on quietly building up their strength.

The old knight nodded in agreement, and the matter was settled.

However, at that moment, Maester Guncer, dressed in his grey robe, organized the intelligence he had in his hands and looked up once more.

"Your Grace, there's one more matter," he said.

Viserys' gaze fell upon the maester. "What is it?"

Guncer handed a piece of intelligence to Viserys. "This happened not long ago on the Iron Islands..."

"A sept dedicated to the Faith of the Seven was accidentally set ablaze and burned down. However, many believe that it may not have been an accident."

Chapter 98: Ironborn

"The great Drowned God has granted us courage, will, and strength."

Far away on the Iron Islands, a long-planned celebration seemed to be taking place.

A man dressed in linen, bare-chested, held a blazing torch in his hand, reciting words full of fanaticism and devotion.

He then set fire to the Sept of the Seven Gods before him.

"These false gods and foreign gods are the schemes of the Storm God. Let them leave the Drowned God's domain!"

In legend, the Storm God was the eternal enemy of the Drowned God. The Storm God dwelled in a palace in the clouds, while the Drowned God resided in a watery palace beneath the sea. When they battled, the ocean would be whipped into a frenzy of wind and waves.

However, like the Drowned God, no one but the ironborn believed in the existence of the Storm God.

Whoosh~

The fire raged, billowing smoke rose, mixed with the flickering tongues of flame. Monks and nuns in the Sept cried out for help. Some managed to escape in panic but were slain by ironborn waiting outside, their screams filling the air.

Others chose to stay within the Sept, kneeling before the Father and praying aloud. Their resounding voices seemed to strengthen their faith, suppressing the fear in their hearts.

They hoped that the Seven Gods would bring divine retribution upon the blasphemers.

In truth, since a month ago, there had been signs of such an event.

Though their numbers were small, there were still ironborn who believed in the Seven Gods. However, a month ago, these ironborn began to experience misfortune.

Homes were burned or robbed, and later, some were pelted with stones or even beaten and killed in the streets.

Spreading the faith of the Seven on the Iron Islands was a difficult task. Despite the adversity, the Sept's monks never gave up, struggling to persevere.

But they never imagined it would escalate to this.

A group of fanatical Drowned God followers first burned down the Sept on Great Wyk, then the church on Old Wyk met a similar fate. All the monks were slain, and the nuns suffered cruel treatment.

The situation rapidly spiraled out of control, catching everyone off guard.

On the bustling Pyke Island, monks of the Seven, in the name of the High Septon in King's Landing, sought protection from House Greyjoy. They asked for troops to suppress the rebellion and protect the Sept from further attacks.

But the city of Pyke expelled the monks, telling them that this was not a rebellion, but merely the ironborn's own choice.

Before the monks could flee from Lordsport, they found themselves trapped by these events, with no escape in sight.

As the monks' prayers resounded, the flames gradually consumed everything. The Sept of the Seven Gods finally collapsed amid the inferno, completely destroyed.

"Charge!"

A group of fearless ironborn, who had been waiting for some time, rushed forward to gather the wealth that had not been melted by the fire within the Sept.

...

"Brother."

Footsteps approached...

In the stronghold of Pyke, home to House Greyjoy, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed outside the great hall.

A tall, pale-skinned man with black hair and a beard strode in. He had one bright blue eye, often referred to as a "smiling eye," while his other eye was covered by a black eyepatch. Few had ever seen the color of the hidden eye or knew if it held the same smile or was filled with bitterness and malice.

"Euron."

Seated on the cold Iron Throne was a slender man with messy black hair, sharp features, and piercing black eyes that displayed the stubborn, fearless, and competitive nature characteristic of the Ironborn.

He was Euron's older brother, the current Lord of the Iron Islands, and head of House Greyjoy—Balon.

"You're not getting any younger. When will you learn to be more composed?"

At this moment, Balon's gaze was calm as he watched his brother Euron enter the hall in haste.

"Brother, you're right," Euron responded, not offering any excuses. Instead, he just gave a cold smile, revealing his pale teeth.

"But I have to ask, wasn't our recent move a bit too hasty?"

The events that transpired earlier in the day at the King's Port were secretly supported by House Greyjoy. And since a month ago, the sudden rise of the "Drowned God Movement" across the Iron Islands had been orchestrated by them as well.

Balon and his brothers had been plotting the entire affair, so Euron was naturally well aware of the details. However, he felt that everything could have been done more gradually, slowly stirring the Ironborn's fanatical devotion to the old ways without haste.

But to Euron's surprise, the plan was accelerated, and the Ironborn's fervent faith fermented at an uncontrollable pace.

Now, they had burned the sept, killed the monks, and were on the brink of chaos. Even if they wanted to stop the plan, there was no turning back.

"We could have continued to use that dragon hatchling on the continent of Essos to divert the Iron Throne's attention."

"Slow and steady."

Euron carelessly sat down on a chair beside his brother Balon and took a bite from an apple he had picked up from a nearby fruit bowl.

That was their plan.

Using Viserys to buy time, accumulating power, and even secretly allying with House Targaryen to instigate a war between the Iron Throne and the Targaryens.

Then, when both parties were preoccupied with fighting each other, they would stage a rebellion, declare themselves King of the Iron Islands, and deliver a brutal backstab.

However, Euron hadn't anticipated that Balon would advance the plan on his own, leaving them in a precarious situation.

Once word of this got out, King's Landing would surely demand they hand over the culprits.

But if the Iron Islands were to comply and hand them over, House Greyjoy's prestige among the Ironborn would plummet. The hard-earned momentum of the "Follow the Old Ways" movement would be extinguished with a single dousing of cold water.

"Hmph—"

"What do you know?" Balon coldly scoffed.

He didn't want to launch the plan so soon either, but many great schemes were ruined by the actions of lesser men. Balon never expected the Ironborn he had secretly arranged to become so indoctrinated with their own fanaticism.

Their zealous adherence to the old ways reached maddening levels, and then they went too far...

Chapter 99: King of the Iron Islands

In the 289th year since Aegon's Conquest, Lord Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands arrived on the shores of Old Wyk. Surrounded by guards, he entered the sacred hall of the Drowned God's followers, the Kingsmoot Hall, where the Ironborn had traditionally gathered to choose their king.

"King Balon!"

"King Balon!"

Separated by the guards, the Ironborn caught sight of Balon Greyjoy and burst into enthusiastic cheers.

In their eyes, Balon was the staunchest supporter of the Old Way. They believed that he would lead the Ironborn to reclaim the glory of ancient times.

However, Balon Greyjoy, escorted by his guards, merely waved to the Ironborn gathered outside before entering the Kingsmoot Hall without further delay.

The Kingsmoot Hall was sacred to the Ironborn, as it was constructed from the ribs of the sea dragon, Nagga.

Nagga was said to be the first sea dragon in the world, the most powerful creature born of the sea. Terrifying sea monsters and beasts were mere food to it, and in its anger, Nagga could even swallow entire islands.

However, during the Age of Heroes, the Grey King had slain Nagga. The Drowned God turned Nagga's bones to stone so that future generations of Ironborn would forever remember the deeds of their first king.

Nagga's ribs became the beams and pillars of the Kingsmoot Hall, its mouth the Grey King's throne, and its teeth the towering pale crown.

"My king."

"Over here..."

The Drowned Priest called 'Three Drowned Men,' Talon, guided Balon.

Balon Greyjoy wore a black cloak, a dark fur collar, and sat confidently on the black stone throne called the Seastone Chair.

The Seastone Chair, the ancient throne of the Iron Islands, appeared to be a massive sea monster, carved from a single piece of glossy black stone.

Legend has it that when the First Men first set foot on Old Wyk, the massive stone lay on the island's beach. Due to exposure to wind and sun, the Seastone Chair was uncomfortable and cold, even slightly jagged.

But Balon's expression remained unchanged, his sharp features like chiseled flint, his eyes cold and black, his hair flowing freely in the wind.

Then, the Drowned Priest Talon stood before the Seastone Chair and recited the coronation oath with a loud voice as the chilling wind penetrated his clothes and chilled his body.

His brothers, Euron, Victarion, and Aeron, stood on his left, silently observing the Iron Islands' king's coronation ceremony.

Balon's wife and children, wife Alannys Harlaw, eldest son Rodrik, second son Maron, daughter Asha, and youngest son Theon, all stood to the right of the Seastone Chair.

"Since the War of Conquest, the resilient Ironborn have been ruled by the cowards of the green lands and lost their revered Old Way."

Drowned Priest Talon's voice resounded, and the guards below formed three layers of protection around the Kingsmoot Hall. The Ironborn, filled with passionate emotion, crowded the barren hills outside the guards' perimeter.

As the flames of the Old Way began to burn in the hearts of the Ironborn, even Balon Greyjoy could not extinguish this fire and had no choice but to continue down this path.

"The great Drowned God has passed down His will!"

"He demands that Balon Greyjoy, the descendant of the Grey King, inherit the title of King of the Iron Islands, wear the crown, and lead us on a new journey—"

Inside the Kingsmoot Hall, the booming voice continued to carry far beyond its walls. The Greyjoy family claimed to have inherited the bloodline of the Grey King, and thus held the inherent right to rule the Iron Islands.

"King Balon!"

"Long live King Balon!"

Below, the Ironborn let out deafening roars, their passions ignited. The desire and malice burning in their veins stirred, as the wicked thought of gaining without effort took root in their hearts. Perhaps it was not just the Ironborn who felt this way.

They yearned for the return of the Old Way. The poor hoped to plunder the wealth of others to end their poverty, and the men desired to take other men's wives and daughters as their salt wives.

Ironborn women, too, could fight like men, board longships, and raid the weak and cowardly inhabitants of the green lands. Some could even become captains, commanding their own ships.

It was the Drowned God and the sea that gave them the same desires as men.

Subsequently, the 'Drowned Man' Talle saw the swelling fervor below and knew that the climax of emotion and atmosphere had been reached. He held up the driftwood crown and personally placed it on Balon Greyjoy's head.

The coronation ceremony was complete.

Balon Greyjoy the Ninth rose from the Seastone Chair.

...

The news of the rebellion in the Iron Islands spread rapidly throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, donned the crown and proclaimed himself the Iron King. His wife became the queen, and his offspring were called princes.

Under the scheming of Balon's younger brother Euron, their youngest brother, Victarion, led the Iron Fleet in a surprise attack on Lannisport. They set fire to the Lannister fleet amassed in the harbor, consigning the ships of the Westerlands to the depths of the sea and depriving them of their naval capabilities.

In an instant, the news of Balon's coronation and the obliteration of the Lannisport fleet shook the entire realm.

It was said that a drunken King Robert smashed several valuable vases that night, raging with fury. He vowed to personally lead the charge and take Balon's head, hanging it from the walls of the Red Keep. Only after the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, pleaded with him did he finally abandon the idea of leading the attack himself.

The next day, the king's order spread throughout the Red Keep. King Robert called upon all the lords loyal to him to muster their armies and attack the Iron Islands, putting down the rebellion.

Meanwhile, the royal fleet, led by the king's younger brother Stannis, was en route to Dragonstone, intending to capture the island first. They received the king's order and reluctantly abandoned their previous plans, turning their ships around to join the fight against the Iron Islands.

...

Far across the Narrow Sea,

Viserys received the news more than a month later. The young king was in his castle, studying his black dragon egg.

The heavy black egg was placed on an iron grill above a blazing fire. Flames surged and smoke billowed into the sky as Viserys tried to roast the dragon egg.

Yet, the dragon egg lay still on the fire, as if nothing had happened.

Chapter 100: Hatching the Egg

Viserys crouched in the courtyard, holding a stick of wood in one hand, occasionally stirring the bonfire, while using a fan in his other hand to wave away the thick smoke that drifted towards him.

However...

The dragon egg lay silently on the bonfire, seemingly indifferent as the roaring flames engulfed it.

The passing servants watched the young king crouched in the yard playing with fire from a distance, then huddled together and whispered quietly among themselves. Viserys was too far away to hear what they were saying, and at the moment, he had no time to care.

Viserys tried desperately to fan away the thick smoke blowing towards him with one hand, but to no avail.

In the end, the young king had to flee in disgrace, changing directions and continuing to poke the fire with the wooden stick until it caught fire, at which point he threw it into the bonfire and fetched a new one.

"Cough—"

"Cough—"

Viserys' once fair and handsome cheeks were now blackened by the smoke, with tears and snot streaming down his face, making him look quite disheveled.

...

During this time, Viserys and the other two girls had been researching how to hatch their dragon eggs.

Viserys had tried a series of methods, such as dripping blood, roasting with fire, submerging in water, and even sacrificing a prisoner, but all to no avail.

For the first few days, Rhaenys was very serious about researching how to hatch the dragon egg, but as the days passed and her 'Rhaegal' remained motionless, she gradually lost patience. Unable to crack the egg open with a hammer, Rhaenys eventually gave up her research entirely.

She ordered her pet black cat to help her hatch the egg while she went out to play.

Balerion, the little black cat, looked bewildered and helpless, as it found itself locked in a cage with a 'stone' by its master, both cat and egg sharing their fate in the cage.

As for Daenerys...

She neither played with fire like Viserys nor tormented animals like Rhaenys. The silver-haired girl had deeply remembered a sentence her brother had once said:

"Although these three dragon eggs have been around for countless years and have turned into fossils..."

"I believe that if you hatch them with all your heart, you may truly bring forth baby dragons."

Because of these words, Daenerys took the matter of hatching the dragon egg very seriously.

She placed her own 'Viserion' on her bed in her bedroom, and every night she would sleep in her nightgown, embracing her dragon egg.

At first, Viserys thought Daenerys might catch a cold, sleeping with a cold 'stone' every night.

However, Daenerys told him the dragon egg was not cold. Though its touch wasn't warm, it was at least at normal room temperature.

Since then, Viserys had given up on stopping Daenerys from sleeping with the dragon egg, and held the greatest hope for her success.

Because when he touched the pale milky-white dragon egg, it felt thoroughly cold.

...

"The dragon eggs are real, no doubt."

If Viserys wasn't certain that these three dragon eggs could truly hatch into three giant dragons soaring in the sky, he might have even thought his inner sense of the dragon eggs was mistaken.

However, the dragon eggs were real, but he was greatly troubled by his inability to hatch them.

Aside from Daenerys having a somewhat 'special' reaction to the dragon eggs, where they felt warmer to her touch than to others, there were no other unusual occurrences.

Later, the silver-haired youth tentatively reached out his hand towards the raging flames of the bonfire, repeatedly extending his hand to the edge of the inferno.

The overwhelming heatwave made him feel slightly suffocated, but the young man swallowed and encouraged himself, ultimately strengthening his resolve and continuing to extend his hand forward.

Whoosh~

At that moment, a gust of wind blew by, causing the dancing flames to leap and lick the youth's fingers.

Viserys felt a clear sensation of burning, and like being shocked by electricity, he quickly withdrew his hand.

"Hisss—"

Viserys inhaled a sharp breath, the pain from the brief contact with the fire immediately following.

However... it wasn't as painful as he had imagined.

Viserys vigorously rubbed the scorched area on his hand and found that his fingers were still fair and unblemished, not burned by the flames. Only then did he feel slightly relieved.

"It seems that my idea of holding a dragon egg and jumping into a fire pit with a condemned prisoner isn't realistic."

Viserys, left with no other choice, had to abandon his bold idea.

Although some time had passed since he had acquired the dragon egg, Viserys was still unable to find a way to hatch it.

No wonder Illyrio was willing to gift it to someone else.

No wonder a precious dragon egg was only worth the price of a single ship.

If the dragon egg could hatch, a hundred ships wouldn't be enough to exchange for it. However, an unhatched dragon egg only held the value of a collectible and decorative piece.

At that moment,

"Your Grace."

A slightly plump, unattractive woman approached, leading a boy about the same age as Daenerys. She saw Viserys 'playing with fire' and walked over.

"Do you wish to hatch the dragon egg?"

This woman was Mirri Maz Duur, the Asshai'i priestess who had attempted to take advantage of Viserys on the ship to Braavos.

She had completed the punishment Viserys had imposed on her and had been 'released.' Two years prior, Mirri received news that her mother had passed away back in her hometown, and she wept bitterly.

However, Mirri did not follow her mother's dying wishes and return home to become an obscure priestess. Instead, she stayed in Andalos to help Viserys with questions about magic and mysticism, all the while continuing to observe the secrets hidden within him.

Over the years, apart from realizing that the youth was growing at a terrifying pace, Mirri had made no other discoveries.

She once could 'see' the magic within Viserys growing stronger alongside him, but in recent years, she couldn't even observe that.

Viserys seemed shrouded in a layer of darkness, elusive and enigmatic.

However...

As both a priestess and a sorceress, Mirri had recently felt an urge in her heart.

She seemed to sense a restless scent in the air, and her rapidly beating heart told her that the power of magic seemed to be returning.

It was... not far away.

Chapter 101: Dragon Dreams

Viserys heard the voice behind him and glanced back.

"Mirri."

"How did you get here?"

Viserys saw that the person who had arrived was the priestess, his magical and mystical advisor.

"I happened to be taking Hert for a walk in the courtyard, Your Grace."

The somewhat plump woman offered a slight curtsy.

Having accompanied Viserys for so many years, Mirri had reformed herself and corrected her past mistakes to start anew.

Her status had also changed. Once, she was just an abandoned baby raised by temple priests, not even knowing who her parents were.

But now, she could live with her son in a noble castle, receive a generous salary, ride in carriages, and enjoy a lifestyle no different from that of a noble.

However... she could only comfort herself this way.

Because Viserys' living expenses were not extravagant and even considered frugal; although not sharing hardships with the common people, he lived at the level of a minor noble.

"Come and greet His Grace."

Mirri then had her young son greet Viserys.

"Your Majesty, the King."

The little boy obediently greeted the king, who was a bit disheveled from smoke and fire. Viserys gently ruffled the boy's hair.

"What a good boy."

He then raised his head, stood up from the ground, and looked at Mirri Maz Duur.

"Mirri, do you have any good ideas?"

In fact, when the dragon egg was first brought into the castle, Viserys had gathered everyone to study ways of hatching it. However, Mirri had not come up with any good ideas at that time, only suggesting that they could try sacrificing a prisoner.

This method had an interesting overlap with the original timeline. Viserys went along with it, but in reality, sacrificing a prisoner couldn't hatch the egg either.

Hatching a dragon egg was not an easy task. After the extinction of dragons, the Targaryens had paid a huge price and spent a lot of time trying to hatch one without success.

Naturally, Viserys wouldn't be able to accomplish it so easily either. The process was now at a stalemate.

"Your Grace, the king's blood is only one of the conditions to awaken a dragon."

The plump, ugly-faced woman began.

Viserys frowned slightly upon hearing this.

"In fact, I've already tried using my blood."

He had long tried the old method of blood drops, but it had been useless. However, Viserys immediately understood Mirri's meaning.

"Do you mean the usurper?"

Viserys' tightly knitted brow didn't relax, as he had already lost the Iron Throne. His title as king could hardly be considered royal blood.

"But I need a dragon to kill the usurper and reclaim the Iron Throne. If I could kill the usurper myself, I probably wouldn't need a dragon at that point."

Viserys spoke.

The Baratheon dynasty was now in its heyday, having recovered from the damage inflicted during the usurper's war. If Viserys had the strength to lead an army across the Narrow Sea and kill Robert now, there would be no problem even without a dragon.

"No."

Mirri shook her head slightly upon hearing this.

Viserys had misunderstood her meaning; she was not denying that he had the blood of kings flowing through his veins.

"Your Grace, you were crowned by the Seven, and there is no disputing that the true dragon's blood flows within you."

"However, these alone are not enough to hatch a dragon."

Viserys nodded slightly upon hearing the woman's words; indeed, it was true.

"That's correct."

In the history of House Targaryen, after the extinction of dragons, there were countless bizarre methods tried, such as praying to dragon eggs day and night or even drinking wildfire to try to turn oneself into a dragon, but none of them worked.

"So what else is needed?"

The young king stood by the bonfire, the flames still relentlessly roasting the black dragon egg, and asked curiously.

"Magic!"

Mirri spoke with a firm tone.

"The extinction of dragons was not simply due to a limited growth environment."

Once, a scholar from the Citadel believed that the last Targaryen dragon perished because the dragon pit was too narrow, preventing the dragon from growing.

However, the truth was that the last Targaryen dragon died prematurely, never reaching the stage where the dragon pit would limit its growth.

"Mortals need to consume food, breathe air, and drink water from the land to live."

Mirri, being from Asshai, had customs somewhat similar to the Dothraki, who also believed seawater to be poisonous.

"But dragons need the blood of true dragons to awaken, require cattle and sheep for sustenance, and need vast magical power to sustain their lives."

"The true dragon blood within you contains the power of magic, which can awaken dragons. This is a prerequisite, but these alone are not enough."

This time, Viserys understood some of Mirri's words.

"You mean... magic hasn't returned yet, and there's no suitable environment for the dragons to grow, making it difficult to hatch them."

However, Mirri's expression became somewhat serious this time, her round and plump, homely face filled with gravity.

"No... that's not all I'm saying, Your Grace."

"I have already sensed it... perhaps the blue-lipped warlocks in the east, the Shadowbinders, the witches, the moon singers, the priests of the Temple of the Moonsingers, the Maesters of the Citadel like Marwyn... they have all sensed it too. The power of magic seems to be returning, and it's getting closer and closer."

"What?"

Viserys was slightly shocked upon hearing the priestess's sudden revelation, feeling a chill run down his spine, but then the bonfire beside him suddenly burst with sparks.

Puff—

Tongues of flame shot into the air, spewing black smoke.

And the black dragon egg engulfed by the flames, whether it was Viserys's imagination or not, seemed to faintly outline a thin golden edge.

A mass of black mist gradually spread around Viserys.

Soon, strands of black mist formed a stream that enveloped the entire dragon egg, seeping into it through the barely perceptible cracks on the shell.

[Viserys Targaryen]

Strength (Solar): 12

Constitution (Earthly): 10

Agility (Aquatic): 13

Spirit (Lunar): 22

Viserys saw the black mist condense into words formed from High Valyrian script, fully exposing his current attributes.

However, in the next second, the scene before him changed again, and the world around him turned pitch black.

There was only a massive dragon covered in scales, with lava-like fluid flowing through the gaps between them, coiling in the thick black mist.

A pair of enormous crimson eyes pierced the darkness, gazing down at him.

Chapter 102: Golden Patterns

"Dragon dreams?"

Viserys stood in darkness, his presence in front of this colossal creature as insignificant as a speck of dust.

Although he could firmly believe that he was now facing what had been recorded as a "dragon dream" encountered by his ancestors many times, he still felt an intense fear rushing toward him when it truly stood before him.

This creature, transcending the bounds of conventional understanding, was enough to tear apart the worldview Viserys had always held.

"It's too big."

The silver-haired youth stood before this gigantic being, whose body could rival mountains, feeling as if even his breath had stopped.

This terrifying dragon was covered in thick, dark scales. Molten lava flowed in the gaps between each scale, radiating intense light and heat before dripping into the pitch-black world.

Huu~

The heavy breathing sounded like thunder, black fog swirling around the entire dragon, obscuring its enormous size. However, the silver-haired youth in front of it was not even the size of a single scale.

Viserys had never seen Balerion, the Black Dread, but he felt this dragon should be far larger than the 150-meter Black Dread.

The dragon, wrapped in black fog, looked down at the imp before it as if it were an ant. It raised its ferocious yet beautiful head and elegantly stretched its slender neck.

Without even emitting a roar, the dragon opened its deep, abyssal maw. Terrifying crimson dragonfire surged forth, instantly enveloping Viserys completely.

In an instant, the handsome youth's skin turned to ash, his blood evaporated by the flames, and his entire body disappeared as if it had evaporated into thin air within this dream world.

...

Meanwhile, in the real world.

Viserys stared blankly at the bonfire before him. Mirri continued her endless theorizing, only to find the young king wasn't listening and seemed somewhat distracted.

"Your Grace?"

The priestess was a bit puzzled.

Viserys had never been known to lose focus during a conversation. Following his gaze, she saw...

A fire?

"Your Grace?"

Mirri felt that something was off with Viserys and waved her hand in front of him again.

Viserys then suddenly shuddered, trembling from head to toe as if he had been struck by a severe illness. Cold sweat flowed down his forehead, and he leaned on his hand, gasping for breath.

"Your Grace!"

Mirri saw Viserys' face pale as paper, cold sweat streaming down his forehead like it was free, and she panicked. She pulled out a medicine bottle she carried with her from her sleeve.

The priestess had once studied herbalism with the women of the Dothraki, and Archmaester Marwyn of the Citadel had also taught her some medical knowledge, so she possessed some medical skills.

However, Viserys seemed to recover a bit and gestured to stop her from treating him.

"I'm fine."

He had just experienced a dragon dream and encountered a dragon in the dream once again.

This wasn't the first time Viserys had met it.

After his coronation, when he fainted, Viserys felt like he had countless dreams – he dreamt of the Doom of Valyria, and of a black dragon spewing fire at him. Yet, this time, he dreamt of the same scene again.

"Why?"

"What on earth happened?"

...

Viserys was puzzled.

He couldn't understand why he kept having these dragon dreams, and what their recurring presence was supposed to signify.

However, Viserys felt that the dreams bore no ill will. It seemed as if they were singing to him, and although the dragonfire engulfed him completely, it seemed to purify and temper him.

Drenched in sweat, Viserys felt lighter all over, even his breathing had become smoother, as if he had been reborn.

At that moment.

Mirri's son, g, seemed to have discovered something and tugged at his mother's hand.

"Mother, look, the fire has gone out."

A gentle breeze blew.

The extinguished bonfire left only black ashes and broken remnants, and the dragon egg still lay silently on the roasting rack.

"Hmm?"

Viserys was slightly taken aback. He and Mirri hadn't noticed how the bonfire had gone out. The large fire, fueled by ample wood, should have been able to burn for a long time.

However, before he could ponder it further.

Viserys' gaze was drawn to the dragon egg lying silently on the roasting rack.

The black dragon egg was still as deep and dark as the abyss of the ocean floor, yet amidst the darkness, a strange golden pattern had appeared, as if it had always been there, reflecting a brilliant light in the sunlight.

But Viserys was certain that the golden pattern had not been there just a short while ago. Below the pattern was an almost imperceptible, fine crack, which seemed to be where the black mist had entered.

"Your Grace, patience is key."

The priestess standing beside the young king looked at Viserys, who was lost in thought while holding his dragon egg, and advised him.

"The wind of resurrection is blowing. The dragon slumbering within the stone will awaken eventually. If you act hastily or forcibly hatch it, it may backfire."

The Targaryen family history had too many tragedies resulting from forced hatching of dragon eggs.

Viserys held his still-hard, iron-like black dragon egg, slightly lost in thought, and then nodded.

At that moment.

"Your Grace."

Maester Gunthor, still wearing his simple grey maester's robe, hurried over with a letter in hand.

He saw Viserys deep in thought, cradling his dragon egg, and worried that the young king might lose his sanity in his quest to hatch it.

Gunthor also cast a wary glance at the priestess standing beside Viserys.

She claimed to have studied with Archmaester Marwyn, and Gunthor's own mentor had a good relationship with Marwyn.

He had written to his mentor to verify her identity, but his mentor replied that Marwyn had been traveling the world for a long time and had not returned to the Citadel. When he did return, the truth would be ascertained.

"Something big has happened."

Gunthor glanced at the priestess, then whispered into Viserys' ear.

Viserys was startled by the maester's voice.

"Big news?"

Viserys was slightly taken aback, and then Maester Gunthor whispered a few more words into Viserys' ear. The young king's expression changed noticeably, and he nodded.

"To the council chamber."

Chapter 103: The Red Priestess

Flap, flap—

A flock of ravens that had been resting on the castle's tower top suddenly took flight, soaring into the sky.

At the same time, Viserys and the maester left the courtyard together, heading for the council chamber.

...

Meanwhile, far away.

In a magnificent temple, red-robed priests could be seen everywhere, moving about the temple grounds. When they encountered each other, they pressed their palms together, bowed slightly, and then continued on their way without uttering a word.

A woman dressed in red knelt on a cushion, with a brazier placed before her. Flames danced within the brazier.

The red-robed woman sat silently, her gaze fixed on the fire in front of her.

It was at this moment—

Whoosh~

The flames in the brazier suddenly leapt, disrupting their previous rhythm. The red priestess's heart skipped a beat, and she was abruptly jolted out of her contemplation.

"What is happening?"

Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the flickering and twisting flames. Then, she seemed to see a series of images within the fire.

"This is…"

The surprise on the woman's face gradually gave way to calm. Her beautiful eyes didn't even blink as she became entranced by the images in the flames.

"So, the dragon is about to be reborn."

The red-robed, enchanting woman had just seen the figure of a silver-haired youth in the flames.

He appeared to be roasting a massive egg, conversing with a woman, and then a maester in a grey robe with a chain around his neck approached, and they exchanged a few words.

However, all the images she saw were silent, like still frames, and they eventually came to an abrupt end.

"No wonder His power is returning."

After the images ceased, the woman fell silent for a while before whispering softly.

Not only her, but other red-robed priests in the temple could also feel their connection to the Lord of Light growing stronger. Even the small-scale fire magic, which previously had a low success rate, could now be cast. Combined with their best illusions, the number of followers at the entrance of the Red Temple had recently increased considerably.

This was a miracle that hadn't been seen since the extinction of the dragons.

The followers of the Lord of Light differed from other types of magic believers, as they didn't accept the existence of magical tides. Instead, they put forth a counter argument.

They believed that dragons brought magic, not that magic brought dragons.

Because they found that when dragons existed, their connection to the Lord of Light deepened, and after the extinction of the dragons, all priests could no longer sense the presence of the Shadow and the God of Fire.

Therefore, the devout followers of the Lord of Light believed that there must be some connection between dragons and the divine.

Then, a gentle breeze blew, causing the flames in the brazier to vanish completely.

The woman's copper-red hair fluttered in the wind, revealing half of her exquisite cheek. She parted her red lips, murmuring to herself.

"It seems... the great Lord of Light has given me guidance."

The beautiful woman then rose from her kneeling position on the cushion, her loose red robe slightly tightening to conceal her fair chest.

It was as if her body contained a scorching heat that irresistibly drew the gaze of others.

"I need to go on a journey."

She then turned her eyes towards the distant horizon.

...

Far away, in the council chamber of Andaros Castle:

"Iron Islands are in rebellion, and Balon Greyjoy has declared himself king?"

Viserys sat in the council chamber, looking at the intelligence in his hands, then raised his head.

This was the significant event the maesters had mentioned: the Iron Islands rebellion had set off a storm across Westeros like a massive bomb.

No one had anticipated the quiet rebellion in the Iron Islands, which caught the Lannisters off guard and disrupted Viserys's plans.

Viserys faintly remembered that there had been a rebellion in the Iron Islands, during which Theon, who later lost his brother, became the foster son of Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell.

However, he couldn't recall exactly when it happened, and he hadn't expected it to be now.

"It seems that the burning of the Sept of Baelor was not a random act; the Greyjoy family had been plotting for some time."

"So... what should we do?"

Viserys looked up at the few people in the council chamber: his Hand of the King, Sir Joffrey; Prince Oberyn of Dorne; Master-at-Arms Sir William Darry, who leaned on a cane; and a maester from Dragonstone.

"Your Grace, I believe we should take this opportunity to strike at King's Landing."

"Kill the usurper and reclaim the Iron Throne!"

Upon hearing Viserys's words, the Master-at-Arms became somewhat emotional, standing up and speaking eagerly.

His health had deteriorated significantly, and he didn't know how many more years he had left. If not for his peaceful rest at Andaros, he might have already passed away.

However, his greatest desires—to avenge his brother Jonothor Darry and help the Targaryens reclaim the Iron Throne—had yet to be realized.

Now they had settled in the Andals' homeland and began amassing power. The sudden turmoil in Westeros stirred up waves, and he believed it was an excellent opportunity to invade Westeros.

After all, there were still many nobles within the Seven Kingdoms loyal to the Targaryens. If His Grace led an army back to Westeros and called for support...

But as the old man's words fell, everyone present remained silent.

Although they had gathered some power, was it too early to attack Westeros?

"Cough—"

At that moment, the elderly knight cleared his throat and spoke.

First, he glanced at Sir William Darry, who was twenty years his junior. Yet now, with one blind eye and an impaired leg that required a cane, his white hair made him appear older than his age. Then, he continued speaking.

"If we ally with the Iron Islands and Dorne, can the three of us conquer Westeros?"

The old knight's suggestion caused everyone present to exchange glances.

The silver-haired youth in the center, dressed in simple attire and resting his chin on one hand, looked at the table with his pale purple eyes, seemingly lost in thought.

Viserys didn't speak, and everyone's gaze fell on Prince Oberyn of Dorne.

Oberyn gently stroked his soft beard and remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"Now is not the best time to attack Westeros. The alliance of the Starks, Baratheons, Tullys, and Arryns remains strong, and the Lann isters have joined them as well."

The Lannisters now had a queen in the Red Keep.

"However, just because the timing isn't perfect doesn't mean we can't participate in this war."

Oberyn's words seemed to stir the thoughts of those present. While they knew the risks of attacking Westeros at this time, they also couldn't ignore the opportunity the Iron Islands rebellion presented.

Viserys looked around the council chamber, carefully considering the words of his advisors. He knew that the Targaryens had been waiting for the right moment to strike, and this rebellion might be the catalyst needed to rally support for their cause.

"We should send envoys to the Iron Islands and Dorne, seeking to forge an alliance," Viserys finally said, determination in his voice. "If we can unite our forces, we stand a chance against the current rulers of Westeros."

The council members nodded in agreement, each aware of the challenges that lay ahead. Forming alliances with the Iron Islands and Dorne would not be easy, but it was a necessary step in their quest to reclaim the Iron Throne.

As the meeting adjourned, Viserys couldn't help but feel the weight of his family's legacy on his shoulders. Their return to power would be a long and arduous journey, filled with uncertainty and danger. But with the support of his advisors and the alliances he hoped to forge, Viserys believed that the Targaryens could rise once more and restore their rightful place on the Iron Throne.

Only time would tell if his efforts would be successful, but one thing was certain: the game of thrones was far from over, and new players were entering the fray.

...

Chapter 104: Battle of Seagate City

As Oberyn's words fell, everyone present understood.

Andalos currently did not have enough power to challenge the formidable alliance formed by the wolves, stags, fish, and falcons.

The Targaryens had lost the war with the support of a large number of nobles when they sat on the Iron Throne, let alone now.

The joint forces of the North, the Stormlands, the Riverlands, and the Vale had toppled Targaryen rule. Now, Robert Baratheon sat on the Iron Throne, and his strength was only greater than it had been six years ago.

The Targaryens, on the other hand, were far weaker than they had been at the beginning of the war.

For these reasons, everyone understood that their best option was to take advantage of the Iron Islands rebellion to cause some trouble for the usurper and make it more difficult for him to suppress the rebellion.

Subsequently, everyone's gaze turned to Viserys.

After everyone had expressed their opinions, it was up to Viserys to make the final decision on the matter.

The young king was no longer as cautious as he had once been, now holding most of the power in his hands.

"Bring me a map."

After some thought, Viserys instructed a guard to bring him a map, which he then spread out on the table.

His gaze fell on the Iron Islands and Lannisport, the first battle after the Iron Islands rebellion. Then his eyes moved to Seagate City, located in the Riverlands.

The Westerlands were rich, but they were full of strongholds and had a complex terrain of rolling mountains, making it unsuitable for the Ironborn to plunder.

Seagate City, located in the Ironman's Bay, had been built since ancient times as a castle and town to resist the Ironborn. Behind Seagate City was the fertile and flat land of the Riverlands.

Just as the former Iron Islands king, House Hoare's "Ironhand" Harwyn, had taken the Riverlands from the then Storm King, Alester Durrandon.

He had relied on bypassing Seagate City, landing forty miles south of the city, and then leading the Ironborn to carry their longships on foot to the Blue Fork before embarking on their river raids.

So, for the Iron Islands to quickly gain an advantage in this war and restore the territory of the Iron Kingdom, they must first capture Seagate City.

Once Seagate City was taken, everything else would become much smoother.

"The Ironborn's next target should be here."

"Once Seagate City is captured, the Iron Islands will have room to maneuver in this war."

"At that time, we will have the opportunity to directly intervene in the conflict."

Viserys, deep in thought and biting his finger, pointed to the location of Seagate City on the map.

Prince Oberyn, leaning back in his chair, looked at Viserys with surprise. He hadn't expected Viserys to think the same way he did.

"Enough."

In the end, after much consideration, Viserys dismissed the idea of immediately entering Westeros to challenge the Iron Throne.

"This is a war destined to fail; we don't need to get too deeply involved."

The people in the council chamber nodded slightly. Apart from Ser William, no one believed that Greyjoy's rebellion could succeed.

...

The soil of the Iron Islands is barren and rocky, and the ironborn have no oxen or horses for farming.

The only natural resource on the islands is cheap iron ore, which is not as abundant as in the Westerlands. As a result, the ironborn have traditionally relied on raiding for their livelihood.

Thus, with insufficient resources and supplies and not enough soldiers to spare, how could the Iron Islands ever hope to defeat the Iron Throne, which holds a far greater advantage in terms of supplies and soldier numbers?

While it's true that this is a good opportunity, with the Targaryen fleet getting involved to cause trouble for the usurpers, it's still not enough to seriously challenge Robert's rule.

At the same time, Viserys doesn't want to provoke this king too much, lest he goes mad and leads his knights to swim across the Narrow Sea just to beat him up.

After all, Viserys's current priority is to develop and accumulate his strength quietly. Although the chances are slim, it's best to make Robert Baratheon think that Viserys is content with his current situation and no longer craves the throne.

Based on the information collected by the maesters, Viserys learned that Prince Joffrey in the Red Keep has already celebrated his third nameday.

And Queen Cersei Lannister is now pregnant with her second child, who may be born next year.

With this ticking time bomb already planted beneath the Iron Throne's seat, Viserys just needs to wait patiently for it to explode, and then watch the Baratheon dynasty crumble.

So he's not eager to get involved in the Iron Islands rebellion, lest he loses soldiers and provokes King Robert too much, leading to the king feeling threatened and focusing on strengthening his rule.

Nevertheless, the Iron Islands rebellion is well-timed, as King Balon has drawn away much of King Robert's hatred, giving Viserys more breathing room.

"Then, let's seize the opportunity that Balon Greyjoy has created for us."

Viserys's gaze locks onto the map around Andalos, and his finger moves to trace the mountains east of the Mander and an ancient road leading to the Rosby Bay.

This area is the ancient dwelling place of the Rhoynar people.

...

The sudden outbreak of the Iron Islands rebellion took everyone by surprise.

But the Iron Throne responded quickly, and under the king's call, the knights began to assemble rapidly.

However, before they could finish assembling, the attacks from the Iron Islands came like a storm.

This series of assaults left the cunning and scheming Lord of Casterly Rock with his head spinning, as he never expected his maritime neighbors to be so dishonorable.

The fires of Lannisport were still smoldering when countless ironborn longships swarmed the coast, indiscriminately burning, killing, and plundering throughout the Westerlands, covering the land in smoke.

On the other hand.

The victory at Lannisport left the Ironborn with no rival naval forces in Ironman's Bay.

The Iron Fleet was now free to attack Seagard, the strategic port that serves as the only gateway from the Riverlands to the Sunset Sea and a necessary stop for the ironborn seeking to pillage the prosperous Riverlands.

As many, including Viserys, had anticipated, King Balon indeed sent his forces to attack Seagard, but this time, the defenders were prepared.

The ancient bronze bell atop the city walls rang out for the first time in three hundred years.

Balon Greyjoy's eldest son, Rodrik Greyjoy, led the ironborn in their assault on Seagard, while the well-prepared Jason Mallister, Count of Seagard, while the well-prepared Jason Mallister, Count of Seagard, personally led his forces in a tenacious defense.

Fierce fighting erupted beneath the city walls between the two sides.

In the end, the valiant Count Jason managed to slay the 'Prince' of the Iron Islands, Rodrik Greyjoy, during the chaotic battle.

The ironborn's formation crumbled, and they retreated in disarray back to the sea.

...

Chapter 105: The Rhoynar

The Battle of Seagard drew to a close.

Since the beginning of the Greyjoy Rebellion, the Iron Islands had suffered heavy losses, including the death of one of Balon Greyjoy's sons. The morale of the Iron Throne forces had been somewhat dampened by their initial setbacks, but the victory at Seagard had rallied their spirits. They now leveraged their advantages in manpower and supplies to organize a counteroffensive.

Armies quickly assembled.

The horn sounded.

Knights from the Riverlands, clad in their armor, boarded warships bound for Fair Isle, where they would gather before engaging in battle with the ironborn. Stannis Baratheon personally led the Royal Fleet, sailing around the Arm of Dorne and through the Summer Sea to join the combined forces at Fair Isle.

Eddard Stark, Duke of the North, heeded the king's call.

Leading the northern cavalry southward through the Neck, they awaited the arrival of the royal warships before sailing to Pyke to claim the head of Balon Greyjoy.

King Robert, who had initially planned to lead the charge himself, was convinced by his Hand, Jon Arryn, to remain in King's Landing.

Still, in the following days, he grew restless and petulant. Eventually, the old Hand reluctantly agreed to let the king join the fray, but only if he would stay in the rear and avoid direct combat. Robert, eager to leave King's Landing, readily agreed, though the sincerity of his promise remained uncertain.

As chaos reigned in the Sunset Sea off the western coast of Westeros, all eyes turned toward the unfolding conflict.

Meanwhile, on the continent east of the Narrow Sea, Anderlos was also on the move.

...

Viserys, clad in shining silver armor with a longsword at his waist and a black and red cloak billowing behind him, rode a snow-white steed.

With no helmet, the young knight's curly silver-gold hair spilled onto his cold armor, fluttering in the breeze.

"Onward."

The young king spurred his horse forward, then reined it in to survey the troops gathered around him.

Prince Oberyn Martell stood at the ready, joining Viserys on this campaign. He wore black armor emblazoned with the radiant spear piercing the sun, the sigil of House Martell. Oberyn held the hilt of his sword with one hand.

His white horse pawed the ground restlessly.

Viserys, the Silver Knight, rode his white steed in a circle before the troops, demonstrating his horsemanship and the bond between horse and rider that conserved his strength.

"March!"

With the command given, the forces of Anderlos broke camp.

From a bird's-eye view, the army began to move like a living organism, heading east toward the lands along the Rhoyne.

Anderlos, a city of only Andal people, had long since reached its developmental ceiling.

Viserys' numerous titles included King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and he had long set his sights on the eastern lands of the Rhoyne, where the Rhoynar people dwelled.

...

And so, finally, taking advantage of the war that broke out across the Narrow Sea, Braavos, the 'suzerain,' shifted its attention to Westeros.

Viserys chose to go on the offensive, reclaiming the settlements of the Rhoynar people.

...

A persistent autumn rain fell without end.

Clip-clop-clip...

Horses' hooves thundered on the muddy ground, and the knights atop them shouted their battle cries.

A bloodstained lance sent a corpse flying through the air.

Thud—

The body then crashed heavily onto the ground.

"Break them!" Viserys yelled, his white warhorse's mane now dyed crimson. Holding the reins with one hand and gasping for breath, he gripped a lance in his other hand, its sharp tip dripping with blood.

The Andals and Rhoynar had a deep-rooted historical enmity that erupted at this moment.

"Kill them!"

Both sides roared with battle cries that shook the heavens.

A flood of Andal warriors poured through the breached town gate.

Both the Andals and Rhoynar had glorious histories, and their powers were closely matched after their collective decline.

But now, united under the leadership of the Andals, like their ancestor who had once ruled the Andalos plains, the unified Andals displayed even greater power.

The Andal warriors were better equipped and more well-trained, and as a result, they easily crushed the Rhoynar's resistance.

Finally, they conquered the small Rhoynar town.

"Those of Andal, Rhoynar, and the First Men – surrender, and your lives will be spared!"

The air in the town was thick with the stench of burning, flames raging everywhere. Countless figures darted through the chaos, their footsteps a cacophony of noise accompanied by shouts and battle cries.

Viserys's lengthy title was not only impressive, but it also held meaning.

At the very least, it provided an excuse for those Rhoynar who wished to surrender but couldn't find a reason to kneel.

"I surrender."

Clang—

Once one person laid down their weapon and surrendered, the rest followed suit. A large number of the resisting Rhoynar dropped their weapons.

"Your Grace."

While the majority recognized the situation and surrendered, there were still some who stubbornly resisted.

Viserys rode into the town on his warhorse, reins in one hand, his bloodstained, gleaming armor attracting the enemy's attention.

"Kill him!"

Rhoynar soldiers hiding behind a burning wall raised their bows to shoot Viserys, but his royal guards raised their shields in time to block the arrows.

Thud-thud-thud—

Upon witnessing this scene, Viserys's desire to offer clemency vanished.

"Hmph—"

Viserys dismounted, donned his shield, and led a few soldiers to deal with the remaining stubborn resistors personally.

Though young, Viserys had already been 'battle-hardened' by fate, having seen and participated in numerous wars. It was hard to say whether this was fortunate or unfortunate.

In less than half a day, the forces of Andalos had conquered the Rhoynar town. .

Chapter 106: Assassination

"About a thousand years ago, the ancient Rhoynar city-states and the Valyrian Freeholds waged war against each other, taking about two hundred and fifty years from the onset of the conflict to total collapse."

Archmaester Gunthor held a book in his hands, walking and talking with Viserys.

In theory, the archmaester should serve the lord of Westeros, and the young archmaester had been sent to Dragonstone by the Citadel. If Dragonstone changed hands, he would serve the next lord.

However, there are always exceptions.

There are instances in history where archmaesters followed nobles away from their lands, like the maester of Storm's End, who went with Stannis.

It was up to the archmaesters themselves to decide; they were nominally archmaesters of the Citadel but had, in fact, become vassals of the nobility. The notion of archmaesters being apolitical is sometimes merely an ideal.

In the eastern side of the Rhoyne, the small town of Vallo had recently been conquered by Andal forces.

"During the Second Spice War, the conflict reached its peak. Prince Garin of the Rhoynar led 250,000 Rhoynar warriors in fierce resistance, repelling the Valyrian invaders at one point. In the process, two dragons fell, and a Dragonlord fled in panic."

"But then more powerful demons and dragons flew in from the Freeholds, unlike the three dragons that had been defeated before. They..."

The archmaester paused for a moment, looking at the records in the book before continuing.

"They were several times larger than the previous dragons and numbered as many as 300. Prince Garin's 250,000 Rhoynar army was annihilated."

"Prince Garin was locked in a golden cage, hung from the city walls to witness the destruction of his city-state and his people enslaved."

"However, the following stories are legends, Your Grace, and you can choose to listen or not."

The archmaester glanced at the records behind him and continued as the two walked and talked. Viserys nodded slightly.

The archmaester continued.

"According to the legend, before his death, Prince Garin wept tears of blood, cursing the Valyrians and calling on Mother Rhoyne to avenge her people. That night, the Rhoyne suddenly surged with unprecedented power, and an evil fog enveloped Chroyane forever. Countless restless Valyrian invaders received Garin's curse... Greyscale, and died there."

"The story goes that Prince Garin eventually emerged from his watery tomb, ruling the sorrowful lands as the Shrouded Lord."

This lengthy history spanned from the glory to the destruction of the Rhoynar city-states a thousand years ago. Viserys and Oberyn were familiar with the subsequent stories.

Oberyn's ancestors carried the ancient Rhoynar bloodline. The legendary Rhoynar warrior queen, Nymeria, led the Rhoynar across the Narrow Sea to Dorne and married Oberyn's ancestor, Mors Martell.

Although the ancient city-states had long vanished, many Rhoynar villages still thrived along the banks of the Rhoyne, their Mother River.

Viserys had set out on this military campaign to bring these villages under his rule. After a series of initial conquests, the Rhoynar in the upper reaches of the Rhoyne had organized resistance, only to be crushed by Viserys' army.

"Your Grace, as the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, you must never rely solely on one race."

"You should have made such a decision long ago..."

The archmaester said, fully supporting Viserys' idea. It was unwise to obsess over the Iron Throne and fall into its curse, instead of focusing on the development of his own forces in the vast continent of Essos.

If Viserys insisted on participating in the Iron Islands' rebellion, he might not only fail to gain anything, but also suffer losses and slow down his own development.

"Yes, you're right," Viserys nodded in agreement.

The two of them walked across the muddy ground, where the traces of last night's battle had not yet been completely cleaned up. The town still bore the signs of destruction, with burnt and broken houses and blood splattered on the walls.

They eventually arrived at a relatively intact courtyard, which served as Viserys' temporary residence.

The Andals of the Andalos Plain and the Rhoynar along the banks of the Rhoyne River had similar situations. Both races had lost their former glory.

This large triangular region, wedged between the city-states of Norvos, Braavos, and Pentos, was actually a power vacuum.

The Free Cities' trade system ensured that they lacked the intense territorial ambitions of empires. Viserys had seized this opportunity to gradually develop his power in this area, where no other significant forces were present.

"So... what should we do next?"

Viserys and the archmaester stopped outside the courtyard to converse.

Surrounding them, the crowd consisted mostly of captured prisoners. One Rhoynar slave seemed to have overheard Viserys and the archmaester's conversation, raising his head slightly and flashing a glance, although it was uncertain if he understood the Common Tongue of Westeros.

The Common Tongue, brought to Westeros by the Andals and the Rhoynar, had evolved over time to the point where it sounded like two different languages.

"Die!"

As the slave passed by Viserys, he suddenly lunged at him with a hoarse roar, attempting to strangle Viserys with the iron chains that bound his hands.

"Hmm?"

"Damn it!"

However, his sudden movement was caught by Viserys in the corner of his eye, who swiftly dodged.

With a quick reaction, Viserys avoided the slave's attack while gripping the attacker's wrist tightly.

In the meantime, he drew a dagger from the belt of a nearby guard, placing it against the Rhoynar slave's throat and then cutting it with a gentle stroke.

Blood spurted out, and the slave's face was filled with disbelief. Holding his throat with his chained hands, he fell to the ground, lifeless.

He had intended to take Viserys hostage and escape, but he hadn't expected Viserys to react so quickly.

"Your Grace!"

Viserys' guards hadn't even had time to react before the slave was already dead, their faces a mix of shock and anger.

The other passing Rhoynar slaves knelt down in fear, terrified that the young king would punish them as well, even though they weren't accomplices.

The archmaester, who had witnessed the entire scene, watched as Viserys took a deep breath, then wiped the blood from his hands with a handkerchief handed to him by a guard.

"Your Grace, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Viserys shook his head gently, then glanced at the corpse on the ground, his eyes reflecting a hint of darkness.

He had already experienced too many assassination attempts of this level and had even begun to grow numb to them.

Chapter 107: Half a Year

"So... does Your Grace have an answer to the question just now?"

The maester fell silent for a moment, watching the corpse of the prisoner who had attacked Viserys being dragged away by the guards, then raised his head.

Viserys was speechless for a moment, then nodded. He understood the maester's meaning.

The steps of conquest are quite similar; first comes the use of force, followed by a carrot-and-stick policy.

The area radiating around Andalos and along both banks of the Lhoren River is the territory Viserys is expanding.

The land here is flat and fertile, suitable for growing crops, but unfortunately, there are no mineral resources and can only rely on basic agricultural economy.

Moreover, this place is a mix of ethnicities - Andals, Rhoynars, and even Dothraki occasionally come here to graze and plunder.

For these reasons, the three Free Cities surrounding this area have not taken any action.

For the merchants and Magisters, the benefits that can be obtained here are not significant and may arouse the vigilance of other Free Cities.

"I understand."

...

Autumn passed, winter arrived, and spring quietly came again.

In the year 290 AC.

Since the Iron Islands rebellion broke out across the Narrow Sea, with Balon Greyjoy being crowned king, he first set fire to Lannisport and then met with setbacks at Seagard, losing his heir, Rodrik.

Following that, the Iron Throne gathered a large army, and the newly invested royal fleet also joined the war.

In the Battle of the Fair Isle, Stannis Baratheon led the royal fleet against the once-invincible Iron Fleet on the Sunset Sea.

A fierce naval battle erupted between the two sides, and Stannis eventually defeated the renowned Iron Fleet by setting up an ambush, giving Balon's younger brother, Victarion, his first taste of failure.

Balon's youngest brother, Euron Greyjoy, also fell into the sea during the battle and was subsequently captured and imprisoned in Casterly Rock until the end of the rebellion.

The Iron Fleet was defeated, and the situation for the Iron Islands was precarious.

Stannis, as the Master of Ships, conquered Great Wyk in the name of his royal brother, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy, known as "the Bold," took Old Wyk.

In the final battle, King Robert and Lord Eddard Stark personally commanded the fight, with Pyke Castle and Lordsport on Pyke Island being destroyed by fire.

The trebuchets bombarded Pyke Castle incessantly, eventually shattering the main watchtower and a part of the south wall. Balon's second son, Maron Greyjoy, was killed in action during the castle's fall.

The Red Priest, Thoros of Myr, who followed the Lord of Light, reignited his flaming sword and was the first to enter the castle, followed by Jorah Mormont.

The royal army then occupied Pyke Castle, and Balon Greyjoy, who had been crowned king, had to remove his crown after less than a year and submit to King Robert.

His only son, nine-year-old Theon Greyjoy, was taken as a hostage and became the ward of Lord Eddard Stark.

The Iron Islands rebellion finally came to an end.

While Westeros was bustling with activity, Andalos on the continent of Essos was not idle either.

...

This was the most precious opportunity for growth. While the Iron Throne was preoccupied and not paying attention, they seized the chance and swiftly swept the settlements of the Rhoynar on both banks of the upper Rhoyne.

Viserys personally led the troops on the campaign, and at their easternmost point, they reached Norvos by the Noyne River, even startling the Norvoshi warrior monks.

The bearded priests in the temples seemed surprised to see the Andals suddenly appear. They hesitated, holding their axes as they confronted the Andal army for a few days before both sides withdrew, deciding not to interfere with each other.

The Andals pushed westward, eventually reaching the Velvet Hills along the upper Rhoyne.

The merchant caravans along the ancient Valyrian road that stretched from Pentos to Norvos and then to Qohor were alarmed, thinking they had encountered misfortune. However, the Andal army withdrew without causing any harm.

"Your Grace."

"Once, this was a Rhoynar city, a beautiful place, a city made up of greenery, flowers, canals, and fountains."

Viserys still rode his white warhorse.

Riding beside him was a Rhoynar guide named Evan, with olive-colored skin and messy black hair.

He was one of the first Rhoynar to surrender, having witnessed the assassination six months ago. At that time, Evan thought he was done for, but he never expected the king to spare them all.

Evan later charged at the frontlines in battle and was eventually knighted personally by Viserys.

Such an honor was rare; Viserys had knighted only a few people so far, including his personal guard Ser Bessie. Evan was therefore forever grateful to Viserys.

"Really?"

Sitting on horseback, Viserys turned his head slightly, surveying the surrounding environment.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

The horses' hooves made sounds as they stepped on the cobblestone road, and soldiers bustled around them.

However, Viserys could see only ruins and broken walls around him, thick with the colors of history but bearing no resemblance to their former selves.

It had been more than half a year since the Andals had begun to expand their territory. They had almost completely restored the borders of the ancient Kingdom of Andals.

Except for the area south of the Velvet Hills, which was now controlled by the Pentoshi and called the 'Flatlands,' once the southern border of the ancient Kingdom of Andals, they had not yet conquered it.

Now, Viserys led the Andals on expeditions to claim these unclaimed lands, not only for the Andals who had migrated to Andalos but also for those who hadn't. Those Andal villages were now completely swallowed up by Viserys, along with a large number of Rhoynar settlements.

"Over here…"

"Hurry up! Don't fall behind!"

The weary troops marched through the ancient, abandoned Rhoynar city-state, inspecting everything within the city.

Now, the Targaryen soldiers were no longer composed solely of Andals. Over the course of this six-month expansion campaign, they had reclaimed a large number of Rhoynar.

Many of the Rhoynar had joined the Targaryen banner, and their numbers had not dwindled after half a year of campaigning. Instead, they had grown like a snowball rolling downhill, becoming larger and larger.

At this moment, a horse came galloping from the distance.

A Rhoynar warrior sat on the horse, his body covered in patches of dried blood and a few arrows lodged in him.

He then wobbled and fell from his horse.

Chapter 108: The Dothraki

"Hmm?"

"What's happening?"

Viserys's heart tightened slightly as he observed the scene. He quickly dismounted and hurried to the side of the soldier who had been shot with arrows.

Sir Evan, beside him, also dismounted and rushed over, calling for the medics.

"Where are they?"

"Someone come quickly!"

It wasn't long before an army medic, skilled in herbal remedies, rushed over with his medicine box, treating the injured soldier's wounds.

The soldiers who were searching the abandoned city-state nearby noticed the commotion, whispering among themselves before the disturbance subsided. It was a miracle for anyone in the army to be unharmed.

However, they didn't know who had attacked them...

Viserys, dressed in casual attire, crouched in front of the injured soldier. His black cloak trailed on the ground, covered in wild grass.

"How is the situation?"

He was helping the medic cautiously remove the arrowhead from the soldier's bloody wound. As the arrowhead was extracted, fresh blood gushed out.

Viserys quickly blocked the wound with his hand, preventing too much blood loss.

"Bring it here!"

At that moment, another soldier brought over some wine.

Sir Evan, who had been anxiously standing beside Viserys, eagerly took the wine and helped the medic clean the soldier's wound.

Viserys was replaced by the enthusiastic Sir Evan and withdrew his bloodied hands. He washed them in a basin of water, cleaning off the bloodstains.

The injured soldier's mind cleared instantly due to the strong, stinging effects of the alcohol.

"Hiss..."

Pain caused the muscles in his face to twitch, cold sweat sliding down his forehead. But then he saw Viserys crouching in front of him, struggling to sit up while speaking.

"Your Majesty, we're in trouble!"

"We were ambushed by Dothraki..."

The Rhoynar soldier was part of a scout team sent out by Viserys. They had continued their reconnaissance after leaving the ruined city of Ghoyan Drohe.

They arrived at the Trident River, where the Upper Rhoyne and the Little Rhoyne converged, and encountered a group of Dothraki assailants.

A fierce battle ensued, and the outnumbered scout team killed two Dothraki while losing three of their own. Only the wounded Rhoynar soldier managed to escape on horseback.

The arrows lodged in him were shot by Dothraki archers during the chase.

However, the Dothraki halted their pursuit as they approached Ghoyan Drohe and discovered the amassed Andalosian army. They dared not continue their pursuit and fled.

...

"Dothraki?"

Viserys first pressed down on the injured Rhoynar scout to make him stay still and focus on healing his wounds.

Then he furrowed his brows, not expecting to encounter Dothraki here.

Their current location was far from the Dothraki Sea. Though the nomadic Dothraki often ventured west to plunder wealth from the Free Cities, it was rare for them to penetrate so far inland.

Viserys pondered for a moment before asking, "Did you get a clear look at their sigils?"

The Dothraki had no concept of nation-states, only tribes called Khalasars. The best way to differentiate these Khalasars was to know the names of their Khals.

However, if one is not a Dothraki, it is challenging to distinguish which Khalasar they belong to at first glance. One can only identify them through the totems or painted animal skin vests worn by the Dothraki warriors.

Unfortunately, the scout had always lived in his hometown and was seeing these people from the Dothraki Sea for the first time, unable to discern the differences between them.

"Your Grace, when a Dothraki Khalasar is on the move, there are always scouts patrolling ahead," someone said.

"They are responsible for keeping an eye on various prey and enemy tracks."

At that moment, a familiar voice sounded from behind Viserys.

As Viserys was lost in thought about the Dothraki, Oberyn had approached from somewhere. His arm was draped around his lover, Ellaria Sand, the bastard daughter of Lord Harmen Uller of Hellholt.

"In a Dothraki tribe, the warriors walk in the front, guarding the flanks, while the elderly, women, and children follow at the rear of the Khalasar," Oberyn, dressed in intricate black attire with gold thread patterns, continued.

"Your Grace..."

The exotic and sensuous woman embraced Oberyn's arm, her eyes seemingly full of allure. She looked at Viserys and then slightly bowed, greeting him.

"Oberyn?"

Viserys, hearing the voice, looked up and then stood, asking, "What do you mean?"

The tall man, holding his lover, gazed at Viserys, his dark eyes like those of a venomous snake.

"I think... we might have encountered a Dothraki Khalasar."

"If they have sufficient strength and confidence, they may attack us. If they lack strength, they will—"

However, as Oberyn was speaking, a faint, deep rumble suddenly echoed from the distant ruins outside the city of Ghoyan Drohe.

"Hmm?"

At the same time, Viserys, Oberyn, and the surrounding soldiers all sensed the trembling of the earth.

Simultaneously.

"Your Grace!"

Thud, thud, thud...

Several mounted soldiers returned from the distance, dismounting their horses, panting. They were scouts sent out earlier, now back to report urgent military intelligence.

But now... they didn't need to say anything.

"If you're going to say the Dothraki have arrived, don't bother."

Viserys muttered a curse under his breath, exchanging glances with Oberyn.

They did not know which Khalasar they were facing, but one thing was certain... the newcomers meant ill.

"These Dothraki—"

Viserys clenched his fist, ordering the entire army to be on guard, to tighten their formation on the spot, and to prepare for battle.

"Do they really have the audacity to think they can defeat us?"

His attendants brought out the young king's armor, helping Viserys don it on the spot.

But aside from the Dothraki, no one could answer Viserys' question.

Chapter 109: Encirclement

In no time at all, a short period had passed.

In the distance.

On the horizon of the ancient Valyrian road, a black line appeared in people's sight, followed by the thunderous rumble of galloping horses.

Boom, boom, boom—

The hooves kicked up the dirt, dust scattered in the air, forming a long smoke dragon, as countless birds were startled into flight.

A massive group of Dothraki appeared suddenly within the range of the ruined city-state of Ghoyan Drohe.

However, this group of Dothraki seemed to be just the vanguard of the Khalasar, and their numbers were not that great.

They halted their horses several kilometers outside Ghoyan Drohe, stopping their advance.

The Dothraki didn't seem eager to attack Aegon's army; they just gathered together in a disorganized manner at a distance, like a swarm of flies, staring in their direction, as if they were inspecting prey.

At the same time, they let out sharp, incomprehensible howls.

Viserys couldn't understand the Dothraki language and had no idea what they were saying, but it was clear that it wasn't anything pleasant.

"They arrived too quickly."

The distant Dothraki seemed to be waiting for the rest of their tribe to catch up.

Aegon's army, after getting over the initial panic, quickly began to deploy and actively organize their defense.

Neither Viserys nor Oberyn had expected this Dothraki Khalasar to catch up so fast.

It could only be said that they were truly a people of the horse.

It seemed that while the scout was returning, the Khalasar had already crossed the river and was heading in their direction, then joined forces with the scout and sped up their approach.

Viserys, with the help of his squire, fastened the last piece of his vambrace.

Click—

The harsh sound of metal scraping, the vambrace tightly buckled.

Next, the young king, seated on his horse, flexed his wrists and then fastened the polished silver helmet on his head, pulling down the faceguard to cover his face.

"Spear."

The squires standing below the horse hurriedly raised the young king's preferred weapon and handed it over.

"Your Grace."

Viserys took the spear, feeling its slightly heavy weight, and gripped it tightly with one hand.

The sharp, triangular blade glinted with a chilling light, and then pointed downward towards the ground.

Although of noble birth, Viserys had never feared leading his troops into battle personally, even daring to put himself in the front lines to boost morale.

The reason was that he had to personally reap enough lives to satiate the black mist within him. Another reason was that his foundation was so weak; Viserys had to give his all for many things and could not afford a single failure.

"Quick, quick, quick!"

The soldiers surrounding Viserys were hastily forming their ranks under the command of their officers.

Fortunately, Viserys had maintained a formation while marching, so they weren't caught off guard. They quickly utilized the terrain of the ruined city to organize a defensive formation and set up makeshift fortifications.

After donning his armor, Viserys spurred his horse and rode to a higher vantage point within the ruined city.

Clip-clop, clip-clop…

He reined in his horse and gazed out at the throng of Dothraki approaching in the distance. From his elevated position, Viserys could clearly see more Dothraki riders streaming in from afar.

"Your Grace."

Suddenly encountering a Dothraki tribe, Ser Evin, a newly appointed nobleman from the Lysene under the rule of House Targaryen, had also put on his armor. He held his battle-axe with one hand and spoke.

"Why aren't the Dothraki moving? Do they want to negotiate with us?"

Although Ser Evin was good at flattery, Viserys had promoted him to knighthood because his former guard, Bessie, had been left behind in Andalos, and he needed someone who knew the lay of the land.

The Lysene warrior might have had a weak resolve and easily surrendered, but he was truly brave in battle. With a strong, tower-like physique, he wielded a heavy battle-axe and always led the charge when driven to act as a suicide squad. This was what had caught Viserys's attention.

"Perhaps," Viserys replied, sitting atop his horse. The cool afternoon breeze slipped through the gaps in his armor, chilling him slightly.

He clenched his fingers and the sunlight cast his shadow on the ruins below. His silver armor and white steed stood tall on the high ground.

"But the chances of that are slim…"

Viserys didn't have a better answer to his attendant's question because he, too, was uncertain of the Dothraki's intentions.

At the moment, they hadn't surrounded the Ghoyan Drohe, but merely blocked one end of it. The rear gate was left wide open.

The Dothraki had neither attacked nor sent emissaries to discuss their intentions, and reinforcements continued to arrive—

What did they want to do?

"Retreat?"

The thought suddenly flashed across Viserys's mind as he sat atop his horse, but he quickly dismissed it.

The current position of their over seven-thousand-strong army within the ruined city of Ghoyan Drohe offered some geographical advantage, allowing them to defend from within the walls.

If Viserys were to be frightened by the Dothraki and retreat with his army, it could lead to disastrous consequences, such as being chased down and possibly annihilated.

The Dothraki were a horse-riding people, and every man, woman, and child was an exceptional cavalry rider. Apart from the famous Battle of Qohor four hundred years ago, where three thousand Unsullied held off the fifty-thousand-strong Dothraki horde led by Temmo, there were few instances where an army had defeated the Dothraki in open battle.

The enemy could come and go like the wind, retreating when faced with a formidable opponent. Conventional armies of infantry and cavalry had no means of pursuing the elusive Dothraki tribes, unable to catch up or outrun them.

Thus, Viserys quickly discarded the idea of retreating.

However, perhaps they had already gathered enough strength or realized that the army wouldn't be frightened into abandoning the city, the ever-growing horde of Dothraki made the decision for Viserys.

In the distance, a powerful long-haired black horse carried a Dothraki leader who appeared to be of great importance. Viserys couldn't make out the details from this far away, but the rider seemed oddly familiar.

"Who is he…?" Viserys muttered to himself, squinting into the distance.

Chapter 110: The Battle

"Who is he...?"

Clink—

The sound of metal armor rubbing against itself echoed.

Viserys sat on his warhorse, grasping an iron ring on the saddle with one hand as he leaned slightly forward.

However, the distance between them was far too great—several kilometers apart. Viserys squinted his pale violet eyes, the complex hexagram pattern faintly visible deep within them.

He could only barely make out that the man was different from the other Dothraki; he was much taller, riding the strongest warhorse, and surrounded by his people. He must be the Khal of this Khalasar.

Then Viserys saw the Khal pull out his arakh, pointing the blade toward the distant Ghiscari city, seemingly roaring in rage.

The Dothraki horselord demanded his tribe to douse his anger with blood, determined to crush the army led by these 'lamb men' and sell them all to Slaver's Bay to exchange for ample weapons and provisions to strengthen his tribe.

"Roar!"

The distant Dothraki heard their Khal's command, raising their gleaming arakhs in unison. Countless blades shone brilliantly in the sunlight, creating a forest of blades as they let out eerie, wolf-like howls.

The Dothraki's ghostly cries carried far, reaching the ears of many soldiers in the Andalos army, well-positioned within the abandoned city. Their faces turned pale upon hearing the howls.

The Dothraki seemed to excel at this psychological warfare, constantly creating fear and manipulating their enemy's mindset.

It was like a pack of wolves encircling a massive herbivore, continuously harassing it until it succumbed to fear and exhaustion. Eventually, the wolves would pounce and kill their prey.

But now, the Dothraki's psychological tactics seemed to have failed. The Andalos army's commander appeared to remain calm, and there was no significant turmoil.

Impatient, the fearless Khal in this Khalasar decided to personally tear open the prey's throat.

Immediately, as the horselord gave the command, the overwhelming horde of Dothraki mounted their warhorses, letting out shrill, inexplicable cries. Wielding their arakhs and whips, they surged toward the Ghiscari city like a tsunami.

Boom, boom, boom—

The deafening sound of galloping hooves thundered like rolling thunder. A dark mass of cavalry expanded from the horizon, filling the view of every Andalos soldier.

Gulp—

Defensively positioned at the entrance of the crumbling ruins, one of the soldiers swallowed hard.

At that moment, everyone's mouths felt dry, and even their fear seemed momentarily forgotten. Their legs were rooted to the ground, and their minds went blank. Clenching their weapons, they awaited the final arrival of their fate.

"Enemy—attack—"

Although they had been in a standoff for a long time, a soldier at the forefront of the Andalos army still raised the alarm. His voice was slightly off-pitch, sharp and twisted.

But the thundering hooves drowned it out. The soldiers could feel the earth trembling beneath their feet, stones even leaping up from the ground.

"Quick! Hold the formation!"

Andalos's junior officers were likewise managing their ranks, their hearts pounding rapidly in their chests, preparing for the Dothraki's first wave of assault.

"Spearman!"

Boom—

...

A line of soldiers held their shields high, forming a shield wall, while long spears were placed between the gaps of the shields behind them, creating a solid, impenetrable hedgehog formation.

Facing the charge of the Dothraki, the Andalos army's favorite battle formation, which they once used to great effect against bandits, the Brotherhood, and in the conquest of various Lhazareen villages and towns, was now displayed in its most ferocious state.

This was the greatest test the Andalos army had faced since its inception.

"Ready! Brace! For! Impact!"

...

A majestic eagle soared high in the sky, its sharp eyes reflecting the distinct tides of two opposing armies below.

From a bird's eye view, the Andalos army had formed a hedgehog-like iron bucket formation. With the advantage of the terrain, they occupied Ghiscari Doha, an abandoned city-state, guarding every road and presenting a staunch defensive posture.

The Dothraki, on the other hand, surged like a tidal wave towards the city's main entrances.

The thunderous sound of galloping hooves stirred up huge clouds of dust, as an endless horde of Dothraki warriors charged towards the abandoned city.

Hidden behind the shield wall, the Andal soldiers and the recently integrated Lhazareen troops clutched their weapons tightly, their hearts pounding rapidly, and their breaths becoming heavier.

"The battle has begun."

As the deafening sound of the galloping hooves drew closer, fear rose within everyone. Their throats involuntarily swallowed a lump of saliva.

"Will I... die?"

A recently surrendered Lhazareen soldier gripped his weapon, his voice breaking with fear. But his captain slapped him on the head, silencing him.

"Shut up!"

Everyone was tense, and the last thing they needed was someone spreading panic, potentially causing irreparable damage. Fortunately, it was stopped in time.

No one could face such a scene without feeling terrified, even contemplating turning and fleeing.

But the seasoned Andalos soldiers knew that if they fled now, breaking their formation, death would come even swifter.

Once the Dothraki broke through their lines, their weak lives would be harvested without resistance. Those who surrendered would be taken as slaves, laboring for a lifetime or dying in the gladiatorial arena.

Soon, the charging Dothraki would be within range of the Andalos archers.

"Archers!"

The junior officers, responsible for small-scale tactical command, ordered the protected archers at the rear of the formation to ready their bows.

"Prepare!"

Creaking noises echoed as all the Andalos archers notched their arrows and drew their bows, aiming at a forty-five-degree angle into the sky, preparing for the first volley of arrow rain to strike the massive target formed by the gathered enemy.

"Fire!"

After a brief pause, the command was given.

The sound of bowstrings being released filled the air.

A dark cloud of arrows blanketed the sky, before rapidly descending in a shower that blotted out the sun, raining down upon the charging Dothraki warriors. ...

Chapter 111: The Dothraki

As a traditional nomadic people who mainly relied on plundering for survival, the Dothraki civilization wasn't very advanced and lacked proper metallurgy techniques.

The Dothraki only had light cavalry, armed with arakhs and short bows suitable for horse archery. They wore no protective gear, including shields, helmets, and armor, and considered warriors wearing armor to be cowards.

Thus...

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

A dark rain of arrows descended, instantly causing a storm of blood and carnage. People screamed, horses neighed, and countless Dothraki warriors charging at the front were struck by arrows or even thrown from their horses. Some horses, wounded by arrows, collapsed to the ground.

The Dothraki's high-speed charge was noticeably restrained for a moment, but the relentless wave of Dothraki behind them showed no signs of stopping. They didn't care about their fallen comrades and simply covered their horses' eyes, urging them to charge forward.

More distant Dothraki warriors, while charging on horseback, removed short bows from their waists and backs, drawing and nocking arrows. They also used a parabolic trajectory to bypass the front shield wall and target the Andal archers hiding behind it.

Thud, thud, thud—

However, the Dothraki's discipline and command were chaotic, and it was clear they weren't capable of coordinated volleys. The difficulty of shooting from horseback was immense, and their sporadic arrows flew toward the shield wall, causing some casualties among the Andal archers.

This was the Dothraki's way of fighting—facing long-range attacks, they charged with the utmost speed, determined to make their opponents pay double for the pain they suffered in the process.

"Roar, roar, roar!"

Seeing their wounds and blood only made the Dothraki more fearless. Like bloodthirsty beasts, the sight stirred the madness in their veins, and they brandished their arakhs while emitting more excited howls.

Rumble, rumble—

Horse hooves pounded the muddy ground as they fearlessly charged forward.

Some Dothraki who had been shot or thrown from their horses were pulled back up by their comrades, while many others were trampled into bloody pulp beneath the chaos of hooves, their blood and bodies forever merging with the earth.

"These Dothraki—"

Viserys, sitting on horseback, took a deep breath at the sight. He had to admit that these Dothraki were truly brave and unafraid of death.

He was somewhat concerned about whether the Andal army, facing such a massive test for the first time, could withstand this intense assault.

In this sudden encounter, there was no time for either side to prepare tactics. All that remained was a test of both armies' combat quality, with the Dothraki attacking and the Andals defending the ruins of a city, using rubble and debris as cover.

"Hopefully, they can."

Creak—

The young king's steel-gloved fingers tightened slightly.

His restless steed snorted and pawed the ground, seemingly dissatisfied with its master's decision to command from the sidelines rather than engaging personally.

However... Viserys wasn't the only one staying out of the fray.

His gaze searched the Dothraki for something but couldn't find any trace of the Khal.

"Hmph—"

"Cunning."

The young king's eyes narrowed.

Rumors had it that during combat, the Dothraki Khal always led the charge. However, if the Khal truly followed the Dothraki's tactics, he would likely become a disposable item, frequently replaced.

...

Soon, this Khalasar was about to collide head-on with the iron barrel formation of the Andal army.

Boom!

The charging warhorses, carrying tremendous force, brutally tore through the seemingly impregnable iron barrel formation of the Andal army, leaving several gaping wounds.

The cacophony of human shouts and horse neighs filled the air, overwhelming the senses. Blood stained the battlefield, and adrenaline surged through every soldier.

"Kill!"

As the Dothraki warriors broke the iron barrel formation with their flesh and blood, their sharp spears effortlessly ripped open the bellies of the horses, spilling their entrails across the ground.

Dothraki soldiers who fell from their horses were either mercilessly trampled by the hooves of those who followed or impaled by the Andal soldiers who swarmed forward with their spears.

"Kill them!"

With a wet sound, an Andal soldier drove his spear through the chest of a Dothraki warrior.

The fallen Dothraki's upper body was bare, his bronze skin drenched in blood, and his long black hair in disarray. He let out an unintelligible, guttural roar, brandishing his curved blade, determined to kill his enemy even as the spear pierced his body.

The seasoned Andal soldier gritted his teeth, released the spear, and drew his short sword from his waist. With a swift stroke, he decapitated his foe.

Andal soldiers' equipment wasn't particularly advanced. They lacked the wealth of the Riverlands, where even ordinary soldiers were clad in plate armor. In Andalos, most soldiers wore light armor with fur for warmth in winter, which they removed in warmer weather.

Short swords were standard issue, with every soldier, including archers and spearmen, carrying one at their waist. There were also dedicated sword-and-shield fighters who held the front line of the formation.

Surrounded by mountains on three sides, Andalos was rich in timber, allowing for an abundance of spears and shields. This was why Andalos was once called the "City of Wood."

Elsewhere, a soldier hiding behind the shield wall and stabbing outward with his spear was suddenly ensnared by a rope that fell from the sky.

"Roar!"

Following the roar, a man with deep-set eyes riding a black warhorse yanked the rope with his powerful arm, unexpectedly dragging the Andal soldier out of the shield wall and leaving a breach in the once-sturdy formation.

"Khal Drogo!"

"Khal Drogo!"

Deafening cheers erupted from the Dothraki ranks as they surged forward through the gap torn open by Khal Drogo.

The once-solid iron barrel formation was now on the brink of collapse.

...

At that moment,

"Your Grace."

The sound of hoofbeats approached as a soldier on horseback ascended the hill where Viserys stood. The soldier was about to speak but was silenced by Viserys.

For he had already seen everything.

...

Chapter 112: Night

Soon.

After a half-day of fierce fighting, night finally descended.

The bloodthirsty Dothraki, who seemed to be on a stimulant, could not hold on any longer. Their howls gradually weakened, and fatigue crept into their bodies. Their feet felt as if they were stuck in mud, and they could no longer swing their arakhs.

Hoo—

Soon after, the sound of the retreat horn came from the rear of the Khalasar. The Dothraki, stepping in the twilight, left the battlefield strewn with corpses and slowly began to withdraw.

The Andalosian army was also exhausted, unable to pursue the retreating enemy. They could only watch with numb, unresponsive eyes as the Dothraki left the battlefield.

"Medic!"

"Medic!"

"Someone, help!"

Inside the ruined city of Gohra.

Soldiers hurried past in chaotic footsteps, the air thick with the acrid smell of blood. Wounded soldiers cried out in pain, as if they were in the seventh layer of hell.

Viserys was also covered in blood. His longsword had been damaged in the fight, and he gasped for breath before tossing it to the ground.

Clang—

At the last moment of the battle, when the Andalosian army was on the verge of collapse, the young king himself took up his sword and repelled the final Dothraki assault, boosting the morale of his troops.

Ultimately, the Andalosians won the battle of wills. The Dothraki, who had been relentlessly attacking and suffering heavy losses, could not hold on any longer. They were the first to sound the retreat horn, giving the Andalosians a much-needed respite.

Now, the tightly wound string in their minds finally relaxed, and the Andalosian soldiers felt a wave of exhaustion wash over them. Fear and pain from their injuries surged forth all at once.

Soldiers who had already rested replaced those who had just left the battlefield. Many leaned against walls or trees to sleep, and some even found a soft patch of ground to lie down on, not wanting to get up again.

Those with minor injuries were given bandages and wine to treat their wounds. Soldiers with severe injuries, missing limbs, were either being treated by medics or carried away by their comrades to a secluded place to await death's arrival, so as not to affect the morale of the others.

At this moment.

Creak…

Viserys removed his upper body armor. His usually flowing silver-gold hair was now matted and damp from sweat, clinging to his cheeks and back.

He sat alone on a stone in the ruined city, silently organizing his equipment while looking up at the hellish scene around him, lost in thought.

It was then that a voice sounded from behind him.

"This is the true face of war, Viserys."

"It is not comparable to the suppression of some villages and bandits."

Oberyn had also removed his armor and cleaned his body of dirt and grime. For the first time, a clear look of fatigue appeared in his black, serpentine eyes.

Oberyn had also been fighting on the frontlines, even briefly clashing with Drogo himself, dampening the latter's arrogance.

However, in the chaos of the battlefield, both sides were unable to fully utilize their skills, swept along by the tide of the armies.

...

In the end, amid the chaos of battle, Khal Drogo withdrew from the front lines under the protection of his bloodriders, and the clash between the two came to an abrupt halt.

When Viserys personally entered the fray, the war was already drawing to a close. The Dothraki were down to their last desperate charge, and Khal Drogo had long since retreated to the rear under protection. The two never got a chance to face each other directly.

"Ah, you're right," Viserys heard Oberyn's voice and looked up at him slightly.

Then he lowered his head again, removing the greaves from his leg and tossing them to the ground.

"But why do you always appear suddenly behind me?"

Viserys even suspected that Oberyn deliberately circled around him each time just to... give him a little scare?

His words clearly caused the Prince of Dorne's cheek to stiffen slightly, followed by a helpless shrug.

"Believe me, it's just a coincidence."

Oberyn then sat down next to him on a rock, looking sideways at the young king.

"However, seeing that you weren't frightened by the horrors of this war, I'm relieved."

Oberyn's remark was clearly a jest. Viserys had witnessed the brutality of war from a young age and had killed several people by the time he was seven or eight. He wouldn't be scared now.

Nevertheless, Oberyn was also reminding Viserys in a teasing manner not to let the horrors of war cloud his judgment and to maintain basic composure.

Although Viserys was young, he had become the backbone of the entire Targaryen interest group, the most indispensable person.

Neither Rhaenys nor Daenerys could replace Viserys in his crucial role in this group, which is why King Robert had been plotting to eliminate him.

Oberyn stayed in Andalos, hoping one day to avenge his sister's death, and this hope grew more real with Viserys's increasing age and Andalos's growing strength.

However, Viserys simply shook his head at Oberyn's concern. He wasn't scared.

"I'm just thinking about how to win this battle."

Even without their fates intertwined, the future would see the Dothraki's most powerful Khalasar at sea, and the conflict between Viserys and Drogo wouldn't be easily severed.

"We need to find a way to finish this guy off!"

In the end, the young king clenched his fist, making up his mind.

...

In the distance, a dark-skinned, muscular man sat atop a black warhorse, his bare upper body revealing coiling muscles, and his long braids adorned with small bells chiming in the wind.

He had deep black eyes, and as he guided his horse to a higher position to survey the distant battlefield, his eyes betrayed no emotion. He raised his hand and made a sound like a grunt.

The message was simple but clear. The bloodrider Kohoro, who accompanied him, knew Khal Drogo very well. Kohoro had served under his father and had once rescued Drogo when he was a child from the hands of mercenaries.

The slightly balding, broken-toothed man then nodded, turned his horse around, and galloped downhill.

...

Chapter 113: Challenge

Not long after,

Toot—

The horn for retreat was finally blown, and the countless Dothraki warriors, who had been fighting to exhaustion on the front lines, finally let out a sigh of relief. Then, like the receding tide, they slowly withdrew from Ghis Dohe, the sturdy fortress.

Dothraki command was very simple, roughly simple enough for everyone to hear the Khal's orders.

Charge or retreat.

And failing to take down the enemy in one wave was a relatively rare situation for the Dothraki.

The free trade city-states surrounding the Dothraki Sea seldom engaged in active combat outside their cities.

They holed up within their walls, and their soldiers had long lost the courage to fight the Dothraki in the open.

They would only use money to send away these westward pillaging horse lords, as in their view, problems that can be solved with money are no problems at all.

And indeed, the Khals who had accepted the "gifts" wouldn't return for a short time, but how long that time was depended on the greed of each Khal.

After Khal Drogo united his father's old forces, he successively defeated two weaker Khalasars in the Great Grass Sea, killing their Khals and expanding the size of his tribe.

This was why the Dothraki were the most brave and skilled warriors, as they were constantly fighting. Only through fighting and killing could they grow stronger.

This time, Khal Drogo led his Khalasar westward, preparing to harvest some Rhoynish villages, capture some slaves for their own use or sell them to Slaver's Bay in exchange for food and weapons.

However, Khal Drogo led his Khalasar along the Qhoyne River to the abandoned city of Nysar, which was once the capital of the Rhoynar. Here, they harvested a wave of villages and towns.

They continued along the Rhoyne River to the upper reaches of the river, only to find that the place had long been deserted and completely swept clean.

All the Rhoynish people had left their homes, heading in the direction of Andalos. Viserys had provided them with shelter and a series of preferential policies, just in time to avoid Khal Drogo's sweep.

The horse lord, who had gained little, naturally couldn't bring himself to give up. So, he continued to track down these villages and eventually cornered the culprits in the ruined city of Ghis Dohe on the banks of the Trident.

It was these people who dared to pull teeth from his tiger's mouth.

So, without a second word, Khal Drogo led his Khalasar to attack, demanding the blood of these lambs to extinguish his anger.

However, he initially thought that these soldiers would be as rotten as the other free trade city-states' defenders, with little fighting power. But to his surprise, after several near collapses, they finally held on to the end.

Seeing that the heavy losses from the fierce attack were becoming too much, Drogo had no choice but to order his men to sound the retreat horn.

...

Dothraki warfare was very simple. The stitched animal hide tent was the Khal's dwelling, with lamps lit inside. The rest of the tribe would dig holes in the ground and use grass mats as roofs for resting.

Boiling horse meat in the pot emitted an unpleasant smell. These were the deceased horses, and the Dothraki did not shy away from eating horse meat and drinking fermented mare's milk.

Inside the Khal's animal hide tent, there were black sausages, blood pies, and beet soup, with the aroma wafting out.

Thump, thump, thump—

At that moment, a series of hurried footsteps approached from outside. Then, a man lifted the curtain and entered. He was the leader of a Khalasars.

Shortly after, a chaotic commotion erupted within the tent.

It turned out that he was questioning Drogo about why he suddenly ordered a retreat when it seemed that the "lambs" on the opposite side were on the verge of collapse.

However, several bloodriders standing behind Drogo heard the challenger's insolent words and drew their arakhs from their waists.

For the first time, anger appeared on Drogo's usually indifferent face, and he stood up from behind the table inside the tent.

Whether victorious or defeated, no one could question the Khal's authority and orders. Otherwise, it would be considered a challenge to the Khal's position, an attempt to become the Khal themselves.

This was the rule of the Dothraki people.

Moreover, Drogo had only suffered a slight setback and hadn't been defeated, yet someone was already eager to challenge him.

Naturally angered by the challenge, Drogo's dark eyes filled with a clear murderous intent.

The challenger's face showed signs of unease. He indeed wanted to challenge the Khal, but he was also somewhat apprehensive facing Drogo's fearsome reputation.

However, Drogo had already accepted the challenge. He spread his hands, holding no weapons, and walked toward the challenger in a seemingly defenseless state. He then gestured for the challenger to draw his arakh.

Unable to bear Drogo's humiliation and being a warlike Dothraki, the leader of the Khalasars finally drew his arakh and roared.

He pounced on the unarmed Drogo, intending to kill him and become the Khal.

But not much time passed.

Perhaps only a few seconds.

Splatter—

Blood suddenly sprayed on the animal hide tent, and a bloody streak slowly slid down.

From outside the tent, one could see a tall figure still standing in place.

The challenger who had tried to defy Drogo had his own arakh plunged into his neck. His body fell to its knees, his back arched, and his body twisted into an unnatural angle. His wrist bones were crushed.

Several Dothraki men entered from outside and dragged the challenger's corpse from the tent, tossing it into the wilderness.

After some time had passed, two Dothraki men emerged from the tent. One was Drogo's bloodrider Qotho, and the other appeared to be his attendant.

They mounted their horses and headed in the direction of Groleo.

...

Night.

Among the Andal soldiers was a young warrior named Myles, who had once been a close friend of Ser Barristan, the knight who served as Viserys' personal guard.

However, their fortunes differed. His brave friend had been knighted by the king, rising to nobility, while he remained an obscure captain in the army.

The gap between their families was evident. As Barristan's mother had also entered the castle to live, managing some servants and caring for the princesses.

Myles, however, had nothing because of his timidity. Yet, because of this, many familiar faces around him had vanished, and he still lived, becoming an old, seasoned soldier.

Now, he was leading some soldiers who had recently been rotated out to dig holes in the soft soil at the frontlines.

Digging holes?

Myles was unclear why the king would give such an order, but that was the reality of the situation.

Chapter 114: The Emissaries

At this moment, they were standing in the night breeze, smelling the stench in the air, using the corpses of Dothraki and their horses as barricades.

And on the ground, they were digging holes the thickness of an ordinary arm... no, thicker than an arm, perhaps the size of a horse's foreleg.

Huh...

The Andal youth with disheveled hair from the wind stood on the land outside Ghaston Grey, surrounded by more soldiers like him, all working on digging holes in the ground.

He felt that he seemed to vaguely understand the reason behind the King's command.

At that moment.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

A faint sound of horse hooves approached, growing closer and closer.

Myles's ears twitched as if he had heard something, and he was the first to look up. As an experienced veteran who had escaped death several times on the battlefield, his alertness was always a top priority.

In the distance.

On the pitch-black wilderness, the young Andalos soldiers, aided by the dim moonlight, could vaguely see two Dothraki riders rapidly approaching.

"Who goes there!"

The nearby Andalos soldiers who were digging holes also noticed the strangers, immediately becoming alert, putting down their shovels and drawing their shortswords from their waists.

"Halt!"

But as the Andalos soldiers were startled and on high alert,

Under the faint moonlight, they saw the two unidentifiable Dothraki riders suddenly vanish before their eyes.

"Huh?"

"Where did they go?"

Myles scratched his head, suspecting that his eyes were playing tricks on him. How could two living people suddenly disappear? However, when he looked around at his comrades, he found that they also seemed somewhat puzzled.

But then, they heard the painful neighing of the horses and some incomprehensible grumbling, which didn't sound like anything friendly, more like cursing.

The sudden peculiar situation quickly attracted the attention of the soldiers in the rear, carrying torches.

"Torches!"

Myles adjusted his helmet and took a torch from a comrade. A group of Andalos soldiers drew their swords and cautiously approached the source of the noise.

When they got closer, they discovered two injured horses with broken legs, lying on the ground and neighing in pain.

Their riders had been thrown off, disheveled and injured. At that moment, two Dothraki men with braids were sitting on the ground, rubbing their heads.

"It's the Dothraki!"

The faces of the Andalos soldiers were instantly filled with anger and hatred. They didn't know how many of their brothers-in-arms had died at the hands of the Dothraki during the day's fierce battle.

Among them were both Andals and Rhoynars. The Andals were somewhat better off, as they were farther away and had hardly suffered any attacks from the Dothraki.

However, the Rhoynar villages were closer to the Dothraki Sea, and many Rhoynars had experienced the barbarians' assaults.

Even without considering the day's battle, they already harbored deep hatred, and the eyes of the Andalos soldiers turned red in an instant.

"They must be here to gather intelligence!"

"Kill them!"

A group of Andalos soldiers drew their shortswords from their waists, ready to pounce and kill the two Dothraki scouts.

.

And among the two Dothraki, Drogo's bloodrider Qotho had just been thrown into a disoriented mess, his head still dizzy.

He had been riding his warhorse and humming a tune when he suddenly fell into a pit.

Who could've reacted to that?

Not to mention him, even Drogo himself would have taken a tumble.

Before Qotho could fully regain his senses, they were surrounded by a group of Andals wielding torches and weapons.

Although he couldn't understand their chattering, Qotho wasn't a fool. From their agitated expressions, he knew they weren't saying anything friendly.

Then, these "lambs" seemed to become bloodthirsty, as if they wanted to pounce on and devour them alive.

Although Qotho was still feeling a bit dazed, he snapped back to attention, quickly scrambled to his feet, drew the curved blade from his waist, and assumed a defiant stance.

However.

Just as a clash was about to erupt, the other Dothraki with Qotho suddenly spoke in broken Westerosi Common Tongue.

"Hey, stop!"

"We are envoys of Drogo. Take us to your..."

The Dothraki's Common Tongue sounded a bit awkward, but the Andal soldiers present understood him.

As the man seemed unfamiliar with Andal culture and didn't know how to address the Andals' ruler, he continued, "Take us to your... Magister."

Finally, with a red face and strained neck, the Dothraki managed to utter what he thought was the correct title.

However, although the Andal soldiers stopped upon hearing they were envoys, they exchanged puzzled glances upon hearing the request for the "Magister."

"Magister?"

"Where did we get a Magister?"

Fortunately, Myles understood the man's words and stepped forward to translate and defuse the situation.

"Alright."

"It seems these two envoys are here to negotiate with His Majesty, our King."

With that, the misunderstanding was truly resolved.

Myles then escorted the two Dothraki envoys back to Gunthor Baratheon's camp.

The Dothraki translator was fine, as he could barely understand what the Andals and Lannisters were saying, so his mental stress wasn't too great.

However, Drogo's bloodrider Qotho remained highly strung, like a startled cat, vigilantly observing his surroundings. The slightest rustling would prompt him to reach for the hilt of his blade.

Before long, the two Dothraki envoys were brought into Viserys's tent.

Night had fallen.

However, the young king hadn't rested yet, and his energy surpassed that of others.

A half-burned white wax candle lay on the table.

At that moment, he was in his tent, pondering over the battle strategy as he examined the map on the table. To an outsider, it appeared as if Viserys was daydreaming while staring at the map.

Just then.

The guard standing outside the tent walked in and whispered a few words into Viserys's ear.

"Hmm?"

The young king raised his head slightly, his pale purple eyes sparkling.

Then, he lowered his gaze back to the map, contemplated for a moment, and finally nodded.

"Let them in."

Chapter 115: Challenge

Swiftly, two Dothraki messengers were led into Viserys' tent.

The young king sat on his bed, draped in a soft cloak, his long hair unrestrained and flowing down his back. He calmly observed the two messengers as they entered.

Interestingly, the Dothraki man walking in the front had a dark and haughty expression, while the one following behind him appeared humble, displaying a contrasting demeanor.

Two messengers sent together, each with a completely different attitude?

Which one, then, could truly represent the will of Khal Drogo?

"Your Excellency," the humble Dothraki man in the back greeted Viserys first. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed, following the common etiquette of Essos. He spoke in the common tongue of Westeros, addressing Viserys with the unique title of 'Magister' used only in the Free Cities. The scene appeared somewhat awkward and amusing.

However, Viserys merely raised an eyebrow, continuing to watch the two men as they approached. He nodded in response.

"Please, sit."

Before Viserys could even finish speaking, the haughty Dothraki in the front strode to the side and took a seat on a cushion near Viserys' bed.

"How dare you!" The guards in the tent were furious at the sight and prepared to reprimand the insolent visitor, but Viserys silenced them with a glance.

The young king then turned his attention back to the arrogant Dothraki, whose face displayed pride and darkness, the features of a cruel man.

Viserys had witnessed the brash arrogance of the Dothraki firsthand, more than half a year ago, or perhaps even a year ago.

Khal Drogo's father, Bharbo, had attended a feast in Pentos with only a few of his bloodriders. He barged straight up to the Ivory and Gold Throne, terrifying the Prince of Pentos to the point of wetting himself. Bharbo seated himself on the throne, and none of the Pentoshi magisters dared make a peep.

Compared to Bharbo's bravado, this man seemed considerably more restrained.

At least he didn't dare enter the tent and demand to sit in Viserys' place.

Viserys sized up the man and gave a faint laugh.

Khal Drogo's bloodrider, Qoso, was also scrutinizing Viserys. He could tell that the refined youth before him was quite young and even somewhat inexperienced.

In his tribe, Viserys might have only just been considered old enough to become a warrior.

However, for some reason, the young king's smile felt particularly irritating to Qoso, as if he were being mocked.

The moment that thought crossed his mind, he couldn't help but see Viserys' grin as one of ridicule.

Qoso's face darkened with anger, as he felt the young king had been mocking him all along and never stopped.

[]

Kosor had wanted to lash out several times, but remembering the looks from the surrounding lambs that seemed ready to devour him, he ultimately didn't dare to slam the table in anger.

Awkwardly adjusting his position, he plucked an irritating flea from his neck and without wasting any more words, stated his intentions in a blunt tone, speaking in Dothraki.

Dothraki had many stressed syllables, making it sound forceful. Viserys didn't understand what the man was babbling about, so he looked to the interpreter.

The Dothraki interpreter listened to Kosor's words and felt cold sweat sliding down his forehead. Not all Dothraki were reckless brutes; some were fearless, but others not so much.

The main reason he had managed to survive was that he hadn't lived among the Dothraki since he was a child; instead, he had been a slave in the Golden Company.

It seemed that he had served an exiled Westerosi noble, and later he was bought by another Khal to work specifically as an interpreter.

However, now that Kosor had spoken, he had no choice but to steel himself and translate as directed.

"Your Excellency," he began.

"Khal Drogo demands at least 3,000 slaves and 10,000 gold coins to compensate for his losses, after which he would be willing to leave."

The interpreter's translation was a bit clumsy and awkward, but Viserys understood the gist.

"3,000 slaves? 10,000 gold coins?"

Although Essos also used gold dragons, there were various other currencies; almost every Free City had its own currency.

Including the Valyrian coins and the Gold Marks, there were round, elongated oval, triangular, and hexagonal shapes.

Viserys, although prepared, was still surprised by Drogo's brazen demands.

"That's too much."

He shook his head, a self-mocking smile on his face.

"It seems Khal Drogo truly sees me as a wealthy man."

"Since we can't agree, just push them down and kill them."

The young king glanced at his guards and calmly gave the order.

"I can't afford that sum."

"And I won't hand over my people as slaves."

The guards inside the tent drew their short swords and held them to the Dothraki men's throats, not even giving them a chance to resist.

The Dothraki interpreter was immediately terrified, as he understood Viserys' words. He hadn't expected the seemingly affable Magister to turn his back so suddenly, catching everyone off guard.

In negotiations, people usually started with an outrageous price and eventually settled for less, but Viserys simply said he had no money or people to give and ordered his men to kill.

Kosor, Drogo's Bloodrider, couldn't understand Viserys' words, and the interpreter hadn't had a chance to speak before the guards had their swords at his throat.

But by this point, no translation was needed, and Kosor understood everything.

The proud Dothraki's face showed no fear but only madness, his sinister eyes locked on Viserys as he shouted something, seemingly wanting to struggle.

The interpreter, trembling, didn't dare translate Kosor's threats about Khal Drogo avenging them and killing all the lambs.

Still, the Bloodrider continued to speak, shooting a fierce glance at the interpreter before saying a few more words. The interpreter hesitated for a moment, then quickly nodded, and addressed Viserys loudly.

"Your Excellency,"

"Kosor, in the tradition of the Dothraki, challenges you. If… if Kosor wins, he hopes that you will allow us to leave."

Chapter 116: Provocation

However, the last sentence was added by the translator on their own, because they wanted to live and did not want to die.

Upon hearing the Dothraki's demand, Viserys was momentarily stunned, then quickly reacted, and a smile appeared on his handsome face.

"Alright."

"I accept your challenge."

The young king then stood up, took a longsword from a guard, and gestured for the guards surrounding the bloodrider, Qotho, to back off.

The guards, seeing their king agree so readily, had no choice but to comply. However, they didn't have much to worry about when it came to Viserys.

In Andalos, everyone knew the title 'Silver Prince' that belonged to Viserys.

This title once belonged to Viserys's older brother, Rhaegar Targaryen. But now, it was also bestowed upon Viserys, and the story of the young king killing at the age of seven was praised as a representation of ruthlessness and martial prowess.

Because Viserys was still underage, people had a habit of calling him 'Prince.'

However, it was evident that Viserys's fame was limited to the Andalosian plains and perhaps spread to the surrounding free-trade city-states, such as Pentos, Braavos, and Norvos, along with merchant caravans.

The Dothraki were not among them, believing that all warriors came from the Great Grass Sea, and held a disdainful attitude towards other groups.

With the restrictions lifted, Qotho of Khal Drogo's bloodriders slightly stretched his shoulders, and then circled his neck, the joints making cracking noises.

He was surprised, thinking that the young man would never dare accept his challenge and that it was just a futile attempt before death. But since the youth had the courage to accept his challenge...

Qotho's eyes darkened, flashing with a ruthless glint. He didn't want to die, and no one wanted to die.

What he was thinking now was to kidnap the young man during the fight and use the opportunity to escape.

This was the only way he could survive in Ghis.

Even more, he could take the youth directly to Khal Drogo, earning great merit, perhaps even getting a few beautiful...

The more Qotho thought about it, the more viable it seemed. And it all stemmed from the youth's overconfidence.

At his age, he would have only just qualified to become a Dothraki warrior in the tribe. Did he really think that having guards around him would ensure his safety?

Qotho, one of Drogo's bloodriders, was no weakling. His hands were incredibly dexterous, able to wield two arakhs simultaneously and accurately slit an enemy's throat.

Thus, Qotho was confident in his abilities. He wouldn't kill the young man; he believed he could capture him alive.

Qotho challenged Viserys, and the guards pushed another Dothraki aside, clearing the center space.

Fortunately, Viserys's tent was large enough, otherwise, there wouldn't even be room to fight.

Finally, the bloodrider stretched his wrists and drew his arakh from his waist, then pounced, letting out a strange roar.

"Roar—"

The young bloodrider swung his blade directly at Viserys's neck, while the elegant silver-haired youth stood still, holding his sword with one hand and calmly looking at the charging opponent with his pale purple eyes.

With a swift movement, Viserys effortlessly dodged the incoming strike.

"Huh?"

Qotho stumbled forward, pausing for a moment, surprised that Viserys had dodged the attack so easily, avoiding it just at the right moment.

Was it a coincidence?

The enraged expression returned to Qotho's face, and like an angered beast, he roared and charged again, wielding his curved blade.

But once more, Viserys deftly evaded the assault.

"What's going on..."

Qotho was no fool.

By now, he had realized that Viserys wasn't as easy to handle as he had imagined. A sense of unease crept into his heart, and an ominous feeling began to rise.

Qotho tightly gripped his arakh, staring intently at the 'Silver Prince.' The pressure inside him increased, his breathing grew heavier, and his chest heaved.

Huff~

Huff~

He swore to himself that this time, he would catch Viserys's dodging moves.

Soon after, Qotho, the right-hand man of Khal Drogo, let out another roar and charged at Viserys for the third time, full of fury.

This time, Viserys decided not to toy with the Dothraki warrior any longer. His pale purple eyes reflected the hysterical figure of his opponent.

Once again, he nimbly dodged Qotho's attack, and with a single hand gripping the guard's longsword, he struck out.

Thud—

Viserys's sword landed on Qotho's wrist, the one holding the arakh, severing his right hand. Blood gushed out, and the curved blade fell to the ground with the severed hand, creating a clattering noise.

Clang clang—

The battle in the tent was easy and enjoyable.

Viserys was toying with Qotho, and every guard present could see it. They had already set their minds at ease.

Qotho, like a cornered beast, desperately tried to struggle, but in the end, Viserys cut off one of his hands with a single stroke.

The intense pain of having a hand cut off in battle suddenly erupted, overwhelming Qotho's mind like a tidal wave.

In an instant, the Dothraki man's eyes bulged, cold sweat slid down his forehead, and the muscles on his cheeks twitched.

"Ahh—"

Qotho let out a pained roar and collapsed to the ground, kneeling.

His remaining hand tightly grasped his now-bare arm, blood still pouring out. His expression twisted in agony.

Viserys, looking at Qotho's painful state, showed no mercy this time. He gripped the bloody sword with both hands and raised it high once more.

Thud—

The next second.

Blood sprayed like a fountain, reaching the top of the tent.

Gurgle gurgle—

Khal Drogo's bloodrider Qotho's head rolled onto the ground.

At that moment.

"Prince Oberyn."

A guard's voice came from outside Viserys's tent.

Oberyn lifted the tent's curtain and walked in, just in time to witness the bloody scene of Viserys cutting off the bloodrider's head with his final strike.

Oberyn looked up, slightly surprised, at Viserys, who had killed a man without even blinking.

He saw Viserys hand the blood-stained sword back to one of the guards and take a cloth to wipe his hands.

Oberyn was silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating something. Finally, he asked,

"It seems you want to provoke Khal Drogo."

"Why?"

Chapter 117: Fury

"Why?"

Viserys turned around, glancing at Oberyn who had rushed over upon hearing the news. At the moment, Viserys was wiping the blood off his hands. Viserys withdrew his gaze and spoke calmly.

"Naturally, it's to kill him."

Hearing the young king's words, the Dornishman's slender eyebrows furrowed slightly. He detected the murderous intent in Viserys' voice. While it made sense for opposing armies to want to kill each other, he felt that there was a deeper meaning behind Viserys' words.

"Do you have any longstanding grudge with this Dothraki horselord?"

Oberyn asked curiously.

"No."

Viserys shook his head.

Clearly, he wasn't telling the truth.

However, the only interaction between Viserys and Drogo thus far had been at the Pentos feast, and they had merely exchanged a glance without even speaking a word. It was hard to argue that there was any enmity between them.

"Is that so?"

Oberyn raised an eyebrow and nodded.

The guards, who had been moving around the tent, had now collected Qotho's severed head. The headless corpse was dragged out, leaving a clear trail of blood on the ground.

Other guards fetched a bucket of water, hurriedly cleaning Viserys' tent of the filth.

Watching as the young and refined-looking Viserys personally beheaded one of Drogo's bloodriders, not a hint of change in his delicate features, as if it were as mundane as eating or drinking.

The Dothraki translator who was still being held captive was nearly frightened to the point of wetting himself. It was fortunate that he had been sold to the Golden Company as a slave since childhood; otherwise, he would not have survived long in a Dothraki tribe.

"Your Grace."

"What should we do with this man..."

One of the guards holding the Dothraki captive asked.

"Hmm?"

Viserys handed the bloody handkerchief back to a nearby guard and looked at the trembling Dothraki translator.

He had almost forgotten about him.

However, to enrage Drogo, all that was needed was the head of his bloodrider. The translator was not essential, and there was no one in Viserys' army who spoke the Dothraki language. His skills might be useful.

"If he wants to live, give him a chance."

Viserys glanced at him and then spoke calmly.

Upon hearing that Viserys was willing to give him a chance to live, the Dothraki translator nodded vigorously.

"I am willing, I am willing."

Viserys waved his hand, and the translator was taken away by the guards.

Oberyn remained in place, stroking his soft chin beard, watching Viserys' retreating figure. He opened his mouth as if to ask something but ultimately didn't.

...

The next morning.

Several Andalosian knights, riding swift horses and carrying Qotho's head on the tips of their lances, arrived in front of the Dothraki's simple encampment.

.

Far away, the knights of Andalos reined in their steeds, shouting a few times before tossing Qotho's severed head onto the ground.

The distant Dothraki, seeing these "lamb men" audaciously riding forth on horseback to provoke them, were instantly enraged. Several short-tempered Dothraki warriors, bare-chested, mounted their horses and gave chase.

However, the knights of Andalos were already far away, slipping out of reach. The pursuing Dothraki learned from their mistake and didn't dare continue further, stopping where the knights had just stood. That's when they noticed the lone severed head on the ground.

"Stop."

As a bloodrider to a Khal, Qotho was naturally recognized by many members of the Khalasar. Seeing Qotho's head, the few pursuing Dothraki warriors felt that something was seriously wrong.

"This..."

Bloodriders were not only guards but also brothers and companions to their Khals, their bonds stronger than steel.

In a Khal's daily life, his bloodriders would always accompany him, the ancient Dothraki traditions demanding that they follow their Khal in death. If a Khal fell in battle, the bloodriders would dedicate the rest of their lives to avenging him, taking their own lives afterward.

Khals and their bloodriders could share everything except their mounts, even their wives, sleeping under the same tent and drinking from the same cup.

Now, Khal Drogo's "blood of my blood" had been decapitated and discarded, his body not even given a funeral pyre. This was a grave matter in Dothraki tradition, for it meant that Qotho's spirit would have nowhere to go.

Khal Drogo had to reclaim his blood brother's body, sewing Qotho's head back onto his corpse and giving him a funeral pyre so that his spirit could ascend to the heavens, becoming a rider among the fiery stars.

"Damn it…"

The Dothraki warriors exchanged uneasy glances, a chilling premonition settling over them. They sensed that terrible things were about to happen.

An enraged Khal Drogo might only be appeased by slaughtering all these "lamb men."

"Go. Tell the Khal."

This was urgent.

Without wasting any more time, a Dothraki warrior grabbed Qotho's head by the severed braid, hoisted the bloodrider's head, and climbed onto his horse.

He then urged his mount toward Khal Drogo's great tent.

...

Moments later.

"Blood of my blood…"

Inside Khal Drogo's golden-topped tent, the atmosphere was oppressively tense. Every ko of the Khalasar had rushed to the Khal's tent upon hearing the news.

Drogo's remaining two bloodriders—Cohollo, the older man who once saved Drogo's life, and the massive, silent Haggo—stood behind the Khal, their eyes filled with sorrow and fury.

They were all sworn brothers, having taken a blood oath to become Drogo's bloodriders, but now one of them was gone.

Khal Drogo himself sat on his throne, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his joints cracked.

He now knew who his enemy was.

He had nearly forgotten, but now he remembered the silver-haired youth he had met a year ago in Pentos, who had given him a faint sense of threat.

And now, that youth had killed one of his bloodriders, severing his head to humiliate Drogo.

"Beetles will chew your eyes."

Inside the tent, Khal Drogo's voice suddenly rang out, as if he were talking to himself. He then stood up and drew his arakh.

"Worms will crawl through your lungs."

All the Dothraki present couldn't help but shudder.

"Raindrops will fall on your rotting skin—"

"—until you are nothing but a pile of bones!"

Boom—

With that, Khal Drogo smashed the table in front of him with a single punch.

.

Chapter 118: Regency

Toot—

The war horn sounded once more.

The boundless Dothraki had gathered again. After a night of rest, they were now in their prime condition.

Rumble—

They charged towards the city of Gohdo with great vigor.

…

Far to the east of the Velvet Hills.

An ancient city of the Rhoynar, Gohdo, now in ruins, was experiencing a rare large-scale battle in recent years.

The protagonists of the war were the declining Rhoynar and Andals, who had lost their ancestors' glory and joined forces.

They fought against the formidable Dothraki, who swept across the continent of Essos, their iron hooves trampling every inch of land, leaving few opponents in their wake.

An enraged Khal Drogo vowed to sever Viserys' head and let his corpse rot, covered in maggots.

Meanwhile.

Far away.

In the city of Andalos.

Viserys led his army on an expedition, seizing the opportunity of rebellion erupting across the Narrow Sea in the Iron Islands. King Robert's attention was focused on quelling the rebellion, deploying his forces to expand his territory in this unclaimed land. Gradually, he became a force that could not be ignored on the continent of Essos.

Unified under the city-state of Andalos, the Andals and some Rhoynar governed many villages and towns, boasting formidable military capabilities.

Viserys' half-year-long journey had only taken him back to Andalos a few times. The last time he returned to the castle was three months ago, after conquering the Rhoynar on both banks of the Upper Loone River. This time, Viserys headed towards the southern Velvet Hills and had not yet returned.

Viserys had left Andalos, but the city's affairs still needed someone to handle them.

The old knight, still commanding the fleet at Dragonstone, could not spare the time to manage the trivial matters within the city-state, as he was guarding against the victorious royal fleet returning to attack Andalos across the Narrow Sea.

As a result, all affairs in Andalos, big and small, were managed by Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, with Maester Gunthor personally assisting her and teaching her how to represent Viserys on the throne and handle state affairs.

By normal standards, Viserys' younger sister Daenerys Targaryen had a higher status and should have been the 'Crown Princess.'

However, although Viserys had not announced it publicly, he had informed his Hand of the King that he had temporarily designated his sister as his heir.

Thus, partly for compensation and because Rhaenys was older, and she had taken care of Daenerys more than he had, playing a motherly role, Viserys granted Rhaenys the title of 'Crown Princess.'

Now.

Although Daenerys was the designated heir, her age was too young, not yet able to discern right from wrong and unable to sit on the throne in Viserys' place to handle state affairs.

Crown Princess Rhaenys Targaryen was naturally the more suitable candidate.

Therefore, the brown-haired girl donned the ruby crown left by Viserys, which had once belonged to her grandmother, Rhaella Targaryen.

She then adjusted her bright red skirt, closed her fair and tight legs, and sat high upon the throne in the castle's great hall.

Still dressed in a plain gray robe and wearing his maester's chain, Maester Gunthor sat beside the Crown Princess, offering her advice when necessary.

.

"Maester Gunthor."

Then, Rhaenys glanced nervously at the maester, who nodded slightly to encourage the girl.

He then addressed the guards below in a loud voice.

"Please, let the first one enter."

Sunlight streamed through the castle's windows, illuminating the great hall. Soon, footsteps could be heard outside the hall, and a short man walked in, placing a hand over his chest and bowing.

"Your Grace."

"May the Seven Gods protect your uncle and all the Andalosians so they may return victorious."

Rhaenys, wearing her crown and sitting on the throne, corrected him as she gripped the throne's armrest.

"It's my brother."

"Uh...what?"

The short man below had just prepared to mourn and lament when Rhaenys's interruption stifled him. He then looked somewhat puzzled at the young girl on the throne.

The girl's playfulness naturally earned her a stern glare from Maester Gunthor. She then stuck out her tongue, giving an apologetic smile.

She had only made a small joke, and Rhaenys whispered an apology to her teacher.

"Sorry, Maester Gunthor."

Rhaenys then lifted her delicate chin, her beautiful eyes looking down at the man below, speaking in a crisp voice.

"It's nothing. You just misheard."

"Please continue."

...

Rhaenys was handling various matters in the castle's great hall for the first time, taking over for Viserys.

Meanwhile, the other princess in the castle, Daenerys Targaryen, was quieter and more prone to shyness.

In the six months since her brother Viserys had left, she had been consistently nurturing her dragon egg, never wanting to give up.

Early morning.

Rhaenys was already dressed and seated on the throne in the great hall, while Daenerys was still fast asleep, cradling her pale, cream-colored dragon egg.

The servant responsible for taking care of Daenerys had intended to wake the princess, but the old maid carrying the lamp saw the girl still in her room with the curtains drawn, hugging her dragon egg as she slept soundly, and felt a pang of compassion.

The old maid didn't disturb Daenerys and let her continue sleeping. She then picked up her oil lamp, closed the door, and left.

However, she didn't notice that when she turned around, a drop of burning oil fell from the lamp she was holding, landing on a bunch of insect-repellent plants in the corner by the door in Daenerys's room.

Due to Andalos's location near mountains, water, and not far from the sea, the air and climate were somewhat damp, and there were many mosquitoes in the castle.

Thus, Viserys had purchased some insect-repellent plants long ago to place throughout the castle, with a particularly large number of them in Daenerys's room. The young girl was terrified of insects and would feel uncomfortable if even one was found in her room. She could tolerate the pungent smell of the insect-repellent plants.

Rustle...

The old maid walked away from Daenerys's room with her oil lamp, her footsteps faltering. The sound of her receding footsteps echoed in the hallway.

However, no one saw a small flame growing stronger at that moment, gradually consuming the surrounding flammable insect-repellent plants.

Soon after, it spread rapidly.

...

Chapter 119: Judgment

The sparks of stars had not yet been discovered by anyone.

Inside the castle's great hall, Princess Rhaenys continued to preside over her first trial in her life.

She had just unexpectedly made a playful joke, instantly making the solemn atmosphere in the hall not as serious as it once was.

However, Maester Gunther was helpless; Princess Rhaenys had always been of such a character, and he could not control this lively girl. Moreover, the person who could scold her had not returned for three months now.

The man standing below still seemed to have not quite understood the situation, scratching his head in confusion.

Wasn't the king his niece's uncle?

Why would Princess Rhaenys call him 'brother'?

He hadn't figured out whether he had genuinely misheard or if there was another reason, but he didn't forget that he had important matters to attend to.

The man then took a moment to gather his emotions, and his feelings quickly welled up. He fell to the ground with a thud, and started to weep bitterly.

It turned out that this man's wife had betrayed him, committing adultery with his neighbor and even taking his savings.

The man cried hysterically, wiping his snot and tears on the castle floor. The surrounding guards couldn't bear to watch, and Princess Rhaenys, sitting on the highest throne in the hall, felt goosebumps all over her body.

"Uh... Maester Gunther."

"What should be the punishment for adultery?"

The girl then hurriedly turned her head to seek help from Maester Gunther.

Before this, it was Maester Gunther who had been handling the city-state's affairs in place of Viserys. Today was Rhaenys' first day on the job, and she never expected to deal with such a trivial matter.

Maester Gunther also felt a bit uneasy. He only wanted to find a small dispute for Rhaenys to practice, but he didn't expect it to be something like this.

Afterwards, the maester cleared his throat and quietly told Rhaenys that she should start with small matters and not aim too high.

Then, he explained what the crime of adultery was.

"Adultery is not tolerated by the Seven Gods. The wife and sister of the Conqueror Aegon, Queen Rhaenys..."

Maester Gunther paused for a moment, then explained.

"Your Highness, this respected queen shares your name."

Rhaenys nodded to indicate she understood. In fact, she had known for a long time that she shared her name with that queen.

"Queen Rhaenys once sat on the Iron Throne in place of her husband, and she established the 'Six Strike Law', which dictates that an adulterous woman may only be whipped six times, and the wooden rod used cannot be thicker than a thumb."

"Rhaenys later persuaded her husband Aegon to legislate against forcibly taking women, which struck a blow against the Iron Islands' salt wife system."

Maester Gunther was knowledgeable and provided a comprehensive explanation.

An adulterous woman would be whipped six times, and the man who was cuckolded would also retain the right to challenge the other party to a duel. Even if he killed the other man, he would not be punished.

This was a case of one reaping what they had sown. ...

In the realm of religion, the Faith of the Seven could never tolerate the sin of adultery, and perhaps the perpetrators would be sentenced to public shaming in the streets.

However, it all depends on how the local nobles exercise their judicial authority over cases in their territories.

"But, Your Grace... remember not to take only one side of the story," advised Maester Gunther after explaining the situation to Princess Rhaenys, suggesting that she couldn't rely solely on the man's account.

Maester Gunther then summoned the man's wife and the other party involved in the adultery to the great hall.

As more sides of the story were revealed, the situation took a series of subtle turns.

It turned out that the man had a habit of heavy drinking and frequently abused his wife, causing her to harbor resentment towards him.

Eventually, the wife had an illicit affair with a neighbor, who even took some of the man's money, although she was unaware of it.

Sitting on the throne, Rhaenys frowned upon hearing about the man's habit of abusing his wife, and even saw the numerous scars displayed by the wife in court.

"Maester Gunther, I believe intentional harm warrants a penalty of dismemberment."

Rhaenys demanded that one of the fingers on the hand the man used to beat his wife be chopped off as punishment.

However, her sentence was halted by Maester Gunther.

"Wait, Your Grace, please hold on a moment."

With a bitter smile on his face, the Maester hurriedly advised the angered young girl.

"In fact, there is a better way to judge this matter."

Maester Gunther then took his seat at the side and presided over the trial independently.

Since the city-state was newly established, there was no established law to rely on. As such, Andalos merely adopted some rudimentary laws commonly used among the noble territories of Westeros.

In the end, Maester Gunther concluded the case and, in the name of the Seven Gods, suggested that Rhaenys rule for the plaintiff and his wife to divorce. The man was not charged with intentional harm, nor was the wife charged with adultery. Both were released.

The neighbor who had stolen the man's savings and committed adultery with his wife, however, was sentenced to lose a hand as punishment.

Rhaenys didn't understand why her teacher made such a judgment, but she followed his advice and announced the verdict.

Afterward, Maester Gunther waved his hand, signaling the guards to drive away the people involved, especially the neighbor whose hand was to be chopped off. His loud wailing had been quite annoying.

Once the great hall had quieted down, Maester Gunther turned to the young, brown-haired girl wearing the crown.

"Your Grace, do you understand?"

"Understand... what?"

Rhaenys had been sitting on the throne, watching her teacher preside over the entire trial. Besides the final verdict, which she announced in the name of Viserys and the Seven Gods, the trial seemed to have little to do with her.

The young girl blinked, somewhat confused, not knowing what Maester Gunther wanted her to understand. She had been somewhat angry, but upon reflection, both parties seemed to be at fault. So, how should she judge fairly?

"Your Grace, are you pondering fairness?"

The gray-robed Maester looked into the girl's eyes and suddenly asked.

"Uh... yes?"

Rhaenys was reminded by the Maester's voice, and then she nodded at him.

"Maester Gunther, shouldn't we uphold justice?"

"Indeed, we should uphold justice. There is no doubt about that," the Maester agreed, nodding in approval of Rhaenys' view.

"But, Your Grace, as a noble, you have judicial authority over cases within your territory, and you can adjust within the framework to strive for a good outcome."

"Because the purpose of the law is not to punish but to admonish..."

.

Chapter 120: Fire

"Isn't it punishment?"

The young girl slightly pinched her fair fingers hidden under her sleeves, feeling as if she understood something.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"If we strictly enforce the law, a husband who has committed intentional harm will face discretionary amputation, while a wife who has committed adultery will be publicly whipped, even stripped naked and paraded through the streets."

"As for the neighbor, who has committed theft, he will naturally lose one of his hands."

"In this way, all three people receive strict punishment, but now only one person has received the deserved punishment, while the other two have been warned."

The Maester's fingers were crossed on the table in front of him as he patiently explained to the brown-haired young girl wearing a crown.

Thump, thump, thump...

At that moment, a series of hurried footsteps came from behind the great hall. A guard rushed over.

"Your Highness!"

"Maester!"

"Something terrible has happened!"

Rhaenys and Maester Gunther, who were seated in the great hall, could smell a charred odor in the air.

They exchanged glances and abruptly stood up.

...

Due to the haste in constructing the castle in the early stages, a large amount of wood was used in the construction of Andalos Castle.

The entire Andalos city had vast areas of wooden houses, even being called 'City of Wood' at one point.

But a few years ago, an unprecedented fire caused severe damage. Since then, Viserys had ordered the gradual phasing out of wooden buildings within the city, replacing them with stone.

However, this process was not so simple. Constructing a magnificent castle might take several years or even decades. Viserys was aware of the disadvantages of wooden houses, but it was impossible to replace them immediately.

As a result, many wooden structures still remained within Andalos Castle, including the main building where Viserys and the two girls lived.

Early morning.

A sudden fire caught everyone off guard. No one expected a massive fire to erupt during the damp, warm, and blossoming season. By the time Rhaenys and the Maester arrived at the main building, the fire had almost consumed the entire royal quarters.

Billowing smoke rose into the sky, and red flames burst out of the windows. Screams could be heard from within, indicating that many people were trapped in the fire.

"Quick, quick, quick!"

"Run!"

The surrounding guards all started running under their commander's direction, continuously pouring water into the fire to put it out. But no one dared to rush in and save the people.

Clearly, the fire was out of control. Intense flames and thick smoke filled the air, carrying a choking, pungent odor.

Rhaenys and the Maester reached the scene at that moment. The brown-haired girl turned pale at the sight of the raging fire.

She then saw Ser Bessie beside her, hurriedly and anxiously asking him.

"Ser Bessie, has Daenerys come out yet?"

However, the young Andal knight turned to her, his eyes somewhat red, and he ordered the guards nearby to pour water on a soaked quilt.

At this moment, Ser Bessie had removed his coat, revealing his muscular physique. A seven-pointed star symbolizing the Faith of the Seven was tattooed on his shoulder, as if he wanted to enter the fire personally to save people.

His widowed mother was still in the castle and had not come out. She was the elderly maid responsible for taking care of Daenerys.

"Princess, please rest assured!"

"I will save Her Highness!"

...

Bessie stared at Rhaenys' beautiful face, forcing himself to suppress his worries for his mother. He wiped her tears away and knelt down on one knee, making a solemn oath.

"Please, I beg you."

"Be very careful."

The loyal young Andal knight then draped himself in a heavy, soaked blanket and, in the face of raging flames and smoke, he fearlessly plunged into the heart of the castle.

Rhaenys and the others anxiously continued to wait outside the castle.

BOOM—

Not too long after, a loud noise came from the sea of fire. It seemed that the beams had been burned through, causing the collapse and burying everything underneath.

"Meow~"

At that moment, a small black cat, resembling a little coal ball, burst out of the fiery blaze. Its tail was still on fire, and much of its fur had been scorched. Only its eyes remained bright.

WHOOSH—

The little black cat was doused from head to tail by a bucket of water from a guard, extinguishing the flames on its body before running towards Rhaenys.

"Balerion!"

Seeing the little black cat escape from the sea of fire, Rhaenys' anxiety eased slightly, and she even shed tears of joy.

It was a small consolation for the distraught girl.

She hoped this was a good sign, and that Sir Bessie would rescue Daenerys from the sea of fire; otherwise, she didn't know how she would face Viserys.

Rhaenys then squatted down and cradled Balerion in her arms.

...

Amidst the fiery inferno,

A little girl with silvery curls quietly held her dragon egg, seemingly in a deep sleep. The flames danced like little red sprites, swirling around her as if they were singing to her.

Then,

The girl's sleeping gown ignited, and the flames danced on her smooth, fair skin. Her beautiful, molten-silver-like hair was also teased by the mischievous sprites.

In the end, the flames completely engulfed Daenerys, leaving her naked and curled up.

Yet, Daenerys remained in her slumber, her brow furrowing slightly, as if sensing some discomfort or disturbed by the surrounding noise. She continued to curl up, clutching her "Viserion" tightly.

Her delicate, fair skin seemed like a piece of solidified fat, pressed against the pale cream-colored dragon egg.

At that moment, the dragon egg emitted a barely audible sound.

CRACK—

Simultaneously,

The ceiling of the castle, weakened by the raging fire, finally collapsed, causing a loud noise.

BOOM—

The sudden noise jolted Daenerys awake.

"What's happening?"

The girl opened her eyes and was horrified to find herself in the midst of a sea of fire.

Even... it seemed strangely familiar.

"Am I dreaming?"

Daenerys looked around somewhat bewildered, but all she could see was fire everywhere.

In fact, she had a similar dream months ago.

She dreamt of a white dragon singing for her, then opening its gaping maw, spewing a torrent of blue flames, burning her room down.

It was exactly the scene she was witnessing now.

Chapter 121: Assessment

A roaring inferno blazed within the city of Andalos.

Far away, at the confluence of the Lhore and Little Lhore rivers, an intense battle was taking place.

More than twenty thousand warriors had gathered within the ancient city, now reduced to ruins.

The air was filled with deafening battle cries, mournful trumpet calls, and the thunderous sound of galloping hooves. Everywhere, a nauseating stench hung in the air.

The Andalosian army employed various tactics to fend off the Dothraki onslaught, and the Dothraki seemed to have learned from their previous mistakes, no longer charging recklessly into battle.

Even so, the Dothraki paid a heavy price for their attempts to reach the Andalosian front lines.

Countless small pits, seemingly inconspicuous at first, revealed their true purpose when the Dothraki horde charged forward. Galloping warhorses could not stop in time, their hooves slipping into the pits, each just deep enough to trap a horse's leg.

Boom—

In an instant, dust and smoke scattered as the horses toppled.

Crack—

The trapped horse's leg snapped under its own powerful momentum, letting out a pained whinny. The enormous, heavy body of the warhorse collapsed to the ground, kicking up dust.

As the horse's leg broke, the Dothraki rider atop it naturally faced a grim fate, thrown from the horse and crashing hard onto the ground.

Thud—

Their bodies flew several meters, even tens of meters, rolling far across the battlefield.

Just like the sudden fall of the two messengers the night before, the warhorses' charges were much faster, and the impact far worse. The Dothraki riders suffered from dizziness and seeing stars at best, but at worst, broken bones, fractured limbs, and even death upon impact.

Yet even the lightly injured Dothraki had no time to be grateful for their luck. The relentless wave of their kinsmen charged forward, unable to stop, trampling over the fallen horses and their comrades' bodies.

Rumble—

The chaotic sound of hooves pounding the ground intermingled with the shrill screams of the wounded, which abruptly ceased.

"Roar!"

The Dothraki let out ear-piercing howls, even more frenzied than before, as if driven by some stimulant. Bare-chested and adorned with painted totems, they brandished their arakhs.

Fearlessly, they charged once more toward the Andalosian line.

...

Atop the hill.

Oberyn donned his armor, bearing the Martell sigil of a sun pierced by a spear on his chest. In one hand, he held a spear, while the other gripped the reins of his horse. He turned to look at Viserys, who stood beside him.

"Viserys."

"The pitfall tactic has failed."

Pitfalls greatly restricted cavalry movements, and conventional trenches were of little use against the likes of Dothraki horsemen.

After all, these light cavalry had a lighter weight and could move like the wind. The Dothraki's horsemanship was also quite excellent, allowing them to leap their horses over trenches directly.

Unless Viserys could dig the trenches as wide as moats, the Dothraki could simply choose to go around them.

Small, concealed pit traps for horses not only had a limited size to stay hidden but also posed a danger to the horses who, if not careful, would fall in, break their legs, and lose their combat effectiveness.

However, the pit trap tactic wouldn't work forever. As long as shield-bearing infantry led the way, carrying soil on their shoulders and slowing their advance, they could fill the pits with the soil on their backs as they moved forward.

But the Dothraki horde was an army composed entirely of light cavalry. They chose a more brutal and effective method.

They filled all the pit traps with their own flesh and blood until the subsequent warhorses could pass over them without difficulty, rendering the traps useless.

At this moment, Viserys had naturally put on his armor, his eyes intently fixed on the battlefield not far away.

He heard Oberyn's voice, turned his head slightly to glance at him, and then continued to speak.

"I never expected that a simple pit trap would be enough to defeat Khal Drogo ."

"The Dothraki can raid and dominate the continent of Essos. You don't think they would be easy to deal with, do you?"

The Dothraki could make the Free Cities, except for Braavos, submit to their will, and it wasn't just because they protected trade routes and caravans.

Perhaps this nation was born for battle, and their people began competing from the moment they were born. Almost all who managed to grow up, except for the translator who grew up in the Golden Company, were hardened warriors.

Just like the bloodrider Koss, who was beheaded by Viserys, even when he was in the Andalosian camp and had a guard's sword at his throat, all he could think about was how to kidnap Viserys.

"Do you have a high opinion of this Khal?"

Oberyn, sitting on his warhorse, turned his head to look at Viserys, seemingly seizing upon a key point.

"As far as I know, Khal Drogo seems to be just an unremarkable horselord in the Dothraki Sea."

Khal Drogo 's Khalasar wasn't very large even after he had consolidated his father's remaining followers and absorbed two smaller Khalasars.

But in the Dothraki Sea, an environment where the bigger fish eat the smaller fish, he still belonged to the group that could be consumed.

Khal Drogo 's campaign to the west was prompted by a powerful Khalasar passing by, scaring him into hurriedly making way and being forced to raid the western Free Cities.

His Khalasar's horses didn't have lush, fertile pastures to graze in and could only nibble on nutritionally deficient weeds by the roadside. Even his own mount had lost some weight, which pained Khal Drogo .

"Well..."

Viserys seemed to be at a loss for words due to Oberyn's question.

He realized that the Prince of Dorne, who had earned six maester's links, was indeed a prodigy, always able to easily pinpoint crucial issues and achieve what others could not.

Then, without turning his head, Viserys tugged at the reins and looked over the battlefield as he spoke.

"Yes, I believe that if Khal Drogo grows stronger, he might become the most powerful horselord in the Dothraki Sea."

"That 's precisely why I must do everything in my power to kill him this time."

Chapter 122: Pincer Attack

Viserys and Oberyn had not personally joined the battle thus far.

Beside them, a hundred of the finest knights from the Andalos army were gathered, all equipped with full suits of armor, armed to the teeth, and even their warhorses were selected from the strongest and covered in chainmail.

Now, these knights were sitting on the ground, not mounted on their horses. Their squires were grooming the horses, and the horse armor had been laid on the ground to conserve the horses' energy to the greatest extent possible.

The idea to form such a heavy cavalry unit came from when Viserys was invited to a Pentos banquet a year ago. At that time, the young king had chosen a hundred elite knights to accompany him into the city of Pentos.

These hundred men formed the foundation of the present heavy cavalry unit.

The cost Viserys had spent to build them was immense, with each person's full suit of armor and horse armor costing nearly twenty golden dragons.

This massive expenditure made the ever-thrifty Viserys wince, but he still believed it was worth the cost and looked forward to their performance. Instead of arming more ordinary soldiers, it was better to create such an elite unit, which might produce unexpected results on certain battlefields.

Now, these heavy cavalrymen gathered around Viserys, waiting for the young king's command to join the battle at any moment.

To deal with the Dothraki, these heavy cavalrymen must seize the right opportunity; otherwise, their heavy armor and slow movement speed could easily be wasted.

As Oberyn was surprised by Viserys' high praise for the Dothraki's Khal Drogo , the distant battle situation changed once again.

Also intended to counter cavalry, Viserys had ordered the soldiers to fell several trees overnight and construct wooden stakes to place in the narrow road leading into the Ghoyan Drohe.

If the pit traps were the first line of defense, then these stakes filling the narrow road were the second line.

"Oooohhh..."

However, the Dothraki in the front row let out excited, unintelligible howls and suddenly produced lassos, swinging them with precision to ensnare the stakes in the middle of the road.

Boom!

Then, with the help of the horses' strength, they dragged the stakes aside, clearing the central path for the Dothraki to charge through.

"Who was in charge of setting up these stakes?!" Viserys asked, eyebrows furrowing in anger upon seeing this.

"Didn't I say to bury the stakes in the ground?"

If the stakes were fixed in the ground, it would not be so easy for the Dothraki to break through the defensive line with their lassos.

The messenger, seeing the young king's anger, turned pale and remained silent, not daring to speak.

But such blame could only be resolved after the battle, as the ever-changing battlefield left Viserys no time to pursue who had failed in their duties.

Unless he could redeem himself on the battlefield, such a mistake that affected the battle and resulted in an unknown number of Andalos casualties would inevitably lead to a trial and execution.

The pit traps and stake defenses were successively breached by the Dothraki, and the Andalos army's defense line was once again in a precarious state.

This was the terrifying aspect of the Dothraki, an army that feared not death and was invincible on the battlefield.

On the first day of the skirmish, the Dothraki were in high spirits, but the morale of the Andalos army was equally steadfast.

Andalos still held a geographical advantage, relying on the abandoned city to finally resist the enemy's attack. The Dothraki retreated, leaving a field of corpses behind.

.

However, on the second day, the Andalos army had suffered heavy casualties in yesterday's fierce battle, and their morale had visibly diminished, with fear steadily rising.

But the Dothraki, despite their heavy losses yesterday, had not only remained unshaken but had become even more spirited and fearless in the face of death.

This stark contrast between the dwindling Andalos and surging Dothraki forces was magnified on the battlefield, causing the Andalos defensive line to become increasingly precarious and eventually begin to crumble under pressure.

Perhaps on the battlefield, individuals couldn't perceive it; they were merely swept along by the larger army. Each individual was just a small part of the vast ocean, and no matter how valiant, they couldn't change the course of the battle.

However, Viserys, mounted on his horse on a hill, saw the situation clearly.

"The Khal may lead his tribe into battle, but he won't be in the first wave," he said.

"I see old men and women..."

Viserys was not a Dothraki, and he didn't know who would take command after Khal Drogo personally joined the battle or if there was even a need for a commander.

Moreover, amidst the chaos of the battlefield, he seemed to notice elderly men and women among the Dothraki, who were also caught up in the fighting.

"It seems Drogo is truly enraged, his anger devouring his reason," Viserys concluded.

He then turned to the guards beside him and asked, "Are the oil and firewood ready?"

Viserys had brought some supplies with his army, and the oil was clearly an important strategic resource. Although they didn't have much, it might suffice when combined with a large amount of kindling.

Viserys planned to use these materials to break Khal Drogo's forces. Horses feared fire, as did people. People could control their fear, but horses couldn't.

However, the Dothraki moved on four legs, and where they ran was not determined by people but by the frightened horses.

"Your Grace, everything is prepared," a soldier confirmed.

As the frontline soldiers struggled under pressure, the rear troops used daggers and short swords to open barrels of oil.

They threw the broken barrels onto the road ahead, where the chaotic hooves of horses crushed them, causing the oil to spread across the ground.

"Very good," Viserys nodded slightly, watching the retreating frontline and preparing to issue orders.

However, at that moment, the sound of hooves could be heard again from afar.

"Your Grace," a messenger alerted him.

Viserys' eyes narrowed, and he saw a large number of Dothraki breaking away from their ranks.

They were trying to charge from the side of the Andalos army.

"As expected," Viserys gripped his reins, taking a deep breath but remaining calm.

It seemed the Dothraki had employed a simple tactic this time, realizing that attacking head-on was difficult. They wanted to perform a pincer attack to swallow up the entire Andalos army.

.

Chapter 123: The Greatest Horse Warrior

"Oberyn, I leave that area to you."

Viserys surveyed the entire battlefield, breathing in the tense air, striving to maintain a calm demeanor.

However, achieving this was easier said than done.

No one could remain completely calm in the chaos of the battlefield, as their emotions would inevitably be influenced by the turmoil of the fight.

Oberyn knew that they had reached a critical point in this war.

The Andalosian army now had nearly half the number of Loina people among them. If they only had the four thousand Andal soldiers Viserys initially led, perhaps they wouldn't be in such a passive situation.

Of course, this wasn't to say that the Loina people were any less brave than the Andals. Both peoples had once risen to establish famous nations in history.

The issue was that the Loina people were new to the Andalosian system, and many of them were new recruits. Their presence spread fear that could even affect Viserys' most elite Andal soldiers.

The fact that such an army could withstand the first wave of attack was already impressive.

"Understood."

Oberyn nodded, leading a group of reserve forces to secure another entrance to the ruined city.

Neither Viserys nor Oberyn were surprised by the Dothraki's adaptability.

Oberyn had warned Viserys the night before to be cautious of the Dothraki's tactical changes, as they were not just mindless brutes.

However, war was full of changes, and the dynamic between attack and defense was always present. One side would always have a stronger offense.

As it stood, the Andalosian army could not afford to leave their advantageous position and fight in the open field. Doing so might expose them to attacks from both sides, and the morale would be greatly affected. Only the most experienced soldiers could hold their ground in such a situation, and even they might be completely wiped out here.

That's why Oberyn approved of Viserys' decision to behead the Bloodrider Qosso and send the head back to enrage Khal Drogo.

Otherwise, if the Dothraki simply besieged the city without attacking, the prolonged standoff would be detrimental to the Andalosian army. Limited supplies and growing fear would eventually overwhelm them.

Now that Qosso's head had been sent back and many Dothraki had seen and spread the news, Drogo had no choice but to seek vengeance for his 'blood of my blood.' If he failed to do so, he would lose the support of his Khalasar.

A Khal who lacked the courage to avenge his sworn brother had no right to lead a Khalasar. With his prestige in jeopardy, Drogo would only face more trouble.

Viserys' actions had effectively left Drogo with no way out.

This was the part that puzzled Oberyn the most.

As a result, he repeatedly asked Viserys if there was any deep-seated enmity between him and Khal Drogo.

How big of a grudge could it be?

He felt that capturing three thousand slaves for ten thousand gold dragons wasn't a big deal. The Andalosians could afford ten thousand gold dragons, and three thousand slaves were nothing to them. All free city-states conducted such transactions.

The current situation seemed to be that Drogo wouldn't let Viserys go, but Viserys also appeared to have no intention of letting Drogo off the hook.

Both were determined to bring down the other. Drogo was driven by Viserys' unjust act of killing the messenger, and he might have also felt that he had crossed paths with a madman.

Wasn't it perfectly normal for him to send someone over to ask for some money?

That's how all the Dothraki operated.

Yet Viserys, the madman, had killed Drogo's Bloodrider without any hesitation, forcing Drogo into a difficult situation where he had no choice but to fight to the death.

Both were determined to bring down the other. Drogo was driven by Viserys' unjust act of killing the messenger, and he might have also felt that he had crossed paths with a madman.

As the battle continued to unfold, the tension between the two sides only grew stronger, and the ultimate outcome remained uncertain.

...

And on the chaotic battlefield.

Khal Drogo rode his majestic black warhorse, its long hair hanging down, resembling a lion on the plains. The horse was noticeably taller than the others around it.

Khal Drogo led his remaining two bloodriders, Haggo and Cohollo, silently appearing at the forefront of the battlefield.

The trio sat atop their horses, Drogo's long braid hanging down behind him, accompanied by the sound of bells as he urged his horse forward. A heavy bronze belt encircled his abdomen, the only armor on his body, revealing his strong chest muscles.

Khal Drogo led the two bloodriders to the front of the battlefield and then pulled on his horse's reins, dismounting.

Ahead of them, the ground was littered with corpses of horses and soldiers from both sides, as well as broken caltrops, making it difficult to advance further on horseback.

At this moment, on the chaotic battlefield, several Andal soldiers who seemed to have appeared from nowhere stood before Drogo, brandishing their long swords and showing clear fear in their faces.

They didn't recognize the man before them, but the powerful figure and deep, dark eyes of this Dothraki warrior made them feel an uncontrollable terror.

"This guy…"

The Andal soldiers exchanged glances, their throats constricting and feet retreating, before finally gathering their courage and shouting.

"Kill!"

They charged forward, raising their swords, intending to kill Drogo right there.

Standing behind Drogo, the two silent bloodriders, Haggo and the older, broken-toothed Cohollo, drew their arakhs, ready to protect him.

However, Drogo stopped them.

"Os —"

Drogo's deep voice commanded the two to step back in the Dothraki language. He intended to face these six enemies alone.

His gaze was deep and calm as he looked at the six Andal soldiers before him. He then pulled his arakh from his waist, weighing it slightly in his hand.

The first Andal soldier to charge swung his long sword downward, attempting to cleave Drogo diagonally from shoulder to hip.

The bells in Drogo's braid jingled as he easily sidestepped the attack.

"Uh…"

Drogo's long beard trembled, his dark eyes reflecting the young Andal soldier's face.

Unlike Viserys' violet eyes, Drogo's reactions and movements seemed to flow seamlessly, like a cloud drifting across the sky. This was the experience accumulated from countless battles, and Drogo's inherent terrifying talent.

His father, Bharbo, had once praised his son as "the greatest horse warrior in the world."

This was not only an expression of hope but also a true statement.

"Kill!"

Subsequently, the remaining Andal soldiers, encouraged by what they had just witnessed, charged forward together to attack Drogo.

...

Chapter 124: Ominous Premonition

The soldiers of Andaros believed that even the strongest warrior couldn't win against overwhelming numbers, let alone when they weren't mere lambs waiting to be slaughtered.

However, they overestimated the gap between themselves and the greatest mounted warrior in the world. The difference between them and sheep wasn't all that much.

Whoosh...

Drogo's eyes were calm and unwavering, and the heavy curved blade in his hand cleaved through the air with a powerful gust, cutting through an Andaros soldier's throat cartilage and severing his head.

The head rolled away, and blood sprayed out instantly.

Meanwhile, in the chaotic battlefield, Drogo fought one against five.

Clang—

The sound of metal grinding.

An Andaros soldier tried to stab Drogo with his longsword but was evaded as Drogo's blade killed another soldier.

The longsword scraped against Drogo's bronze belt, sending sparks flying.

"Hmm..."

The mighty Dothraki warrior breathed heavily, like thunder, his dark eyes fully immersed in the battle. He was surrounded by the remaining five Andaros soldiers.

Blades clashed and swords danced.

Drogo's long braid whipped to the side, narrowly avoiding a sweeping strike from one of the soldiers.

Tss—

However, his braid didn't completely dodge the attack and was inadvertently cut by the Andaros soldier, severing a small section, which fell to the ground with a thud.

"Khal!"

Silent Hago, witnessing this, clenched his curved blade tightly.

Any warrior would struggle against multiple opponents, as they only had two eyes, and their enemies were not unarmed peasants but battle-hardened soldiers.

To Hago, Drogo's actions seemed overly confident and reckless.

"Drogo!"

Cohollo, who owed Drogo a life debt from their childhood, also wanted to unsheathe his blade and join the fray.

"Hmm..."

"Ohos..."

But the two bloodriders, eager to join the battle, were stopped by Drogo's raised hand and a word in Dothraki.

The fearsome Dothraki warrior retreated a few steps, breaking free from the encirclement of Andaros soldiers.

His gaze then fell on the severed section of his braid on the ground, and his deep, dark eyes narrowed slightly.

The Dothraki were extremely superstitious, and a broken braid signified defeat. He felt that this might be an ill omen.

Huff~

Drogo's breathing was somewhat heavy.

Nevertheless...

"Kill him!"

The Andaros soldier who had just barely missed Drogo's head, only severing a piece of his braid, felt encouraged.

Seeing the strong Dothraki warrior retreat, the morale of the remaining five Andaros soldiers surged.

They believed that their enemy was afraid and sought to press their advantage to kill the three Dothraki.

The Andaros soldiers charged again, aiming to kill Drogo, who finally came to his senses, turned his gaze from the severed braid on the ground, and looked at the Andaros soldiers, his dark, deep eyes gradually burning with anger and determination.

Like an enraged lion, he let out a low, rumbling roar.

"Roar—"

...

Then the terrifying Dothraki warrior swung his bloodstained arakh, the heavy blade whipping through the air as he evaded an attack from a soldier.

Swish—

He then struck another soldier at the waist, cleaving the body in midair and slicing it in half.

Clang clang—

His muscular form twisted agilely, the arakh in his hand severing a spear, killing the enemy as easily as chopping vegetables.

Thud—

Next, his powerful arm clamped down on a longsword, the bicep and forearm muscles holding the sword so the enemy couldn't stab or pull it away.

He then turned his head and chopped off the head of another soldier.

The soldier with the sword trapped in his arm stared in terror, watching his comrades being killed while his own sword remained stuck, his internal defenses shattered.

The enemy hadn't been afraid earlier; they just hadn't decided to kill him yet.

As the soldier prepared to let go of his sword and flee, it was too late. Drogo tossed aside his arakh, the blade falling to the ground with a heavy sound.

He then grabbed the soldier's wrist, preventing escape, his eyes burning with intense rage as he locked onto the soldier at close range.

The terrifying, bloodshot eyes made the enemy's heart shatter, and his legs trembled uncontrollably. His mind went blank, and though he tried to beg for mercy, no sound emerged.

He didn't know how to plead for mercy in the Dothraki language.

But Drogo didn't give him the chance, suppressing his fear of the ominous premonition and reinforcing his resolve to avenge Qotho.

With the soldier's horrified gaze fixed on him, Drogo crushed his wrist and used the soldier's own sword to slit his throat.

Swish—

Blood sprayed onto Drogo's powerful chest, and he released his grip, letting the lifeless body fall to the ground.

In an instant, Drogo killed five of the six Andal soldiers.

"Ah…"

"Ah…"

The last soldier, clutching his shield, witnessed the terrifying scene and felt his heartbeat stop.

His trembling hand held the shield as he turned to flee.

However, Drogo kicked him to the ground, picked up his arakh, and decapitated the enemy with a single blow.

This fluid, efficient killing of the six Andal soldiers greatly boosted the morale of the Dothraki.

"Hahaha—"

A deafening cheer erupted from the Dothraki.

The Andal soldiers noticed this too, their gazes toward Khal Drogo now filled with fear. They swallowed nervously, even involuntarily retreating a few steps when he looked their way.

"Use arrows!"

"Quickly shoot him with arrows!"

They shouted, hoping the archers would kill the terrifying Dothraki warrior, determined not to let him lead the Dothraki charge.

This was the role of a Khal, the bravest warrior among the Khalasar. Though individual prowess might not have a significant impact in war, it inspired others.

The Dothraki admired strength, willingly submitting to a powerful Khal and allowing themselves to be driven into battle, plundering and even dying for him.

After accomplishing this, Drogo was quickly surrounded and protected by the Dothraki, staring at the distant Andal battle line with cold, unsmiling eyes.

Of course, he wouldn't charge into battle himself, as even nine lives wouldn't be enough.

But at that moment, Drogo, who had withdrawn from the battle line, sniffed the air. He suddenly smelled an unfamiliar scent.

Drogo was extremely familiar with the smells of a battlefield, but this scent was different from the stench of blood. It was somewhat pungent.

"What is this?"

Drogo lowered his head to look at the ground beneath his feet.

Chapter 125: Setting Fires

Just a moment ago, Drogo's face remained as calm as an ancient well, but the next moment, his expression changed drastically.

The Dothraki people wandered the world without a fixed residence, digging pits to lie in and using straw mats as their ceilings. Therefore, the average Dothraki did not encounter pitch very often, as they would rest when it grew dark and awaken at dawn.

However, Drogo, as a Khal, had his own golden tent, and his daily life was naturally different from that of an ordinary Dothraki. He was familiar with pitch.

He finally recognized the pungent smell in the air, and then lowered his head. His dark and deep eyes suddenly constricted.

He saw the black, slightly viscous substance all over the ground beneath his feet. When he lifted his foot, he noticed that it, as well as the horsehair bindings on his legs, had been stained with the substance at some point.

At the same time, there were bundles of weeds and firewood on the ground. The Dothraki initially thought that the Andalos army had run out of options and had even brought out their supply wagons to the front lines, so they ruthlessly trampled the bundles of hay and firewood.

Now, the weeds and firewood were stuck together with the black, viscous substance on the ground.

The sound of horse hooves and confusion filled the air, with bodies strewn about in all directions. Some Dothraki may have already noticed this, but they did not pay it any mind.

"Os!"

Drogo was escorted back to the rear, but his expression had become extremely tense. He had sensed Viserys's plot: the pitch all over the ground and the kindling materials – if they were ignited, the consequences would be unimaginable.

The fearsome Dothraki warrior could not help but tremble slightly. The once unflinching killer, plunderer, and rapist, Drogo suddenly felt an emotion called fear gradually spreading in his heart.

Splash—

He then mounted his horse, and the bronze belt jingled. Drogo tore off the horsehair bindings stained with pitch and roared.

"Os!"

In the Dothraki language, "os" means "stop" and also contains the meaning of retreat. However, there is no specific word for withdrawal in the Dothraki language, just as there is no word for "trade," only "gift" and "return."

Khal Drogo suddenly ordered a retreat, and the two bloodriders following him did not understand why.

However, the Khal's orders were not to be questioned. The two bloodriders immediately conveyed the order to the others.

"Os!"

"Ohos!"

The order to retreat suddenly came from the Khal on the chaotic battlefield, and the bloodriders also called for the horn to signal a full retreat.

However, it was already too late.

...

"Set fire!"

Viserys, sitting on his horse, gave the order to ignite the fire that had been prepared long ago.

Viserys had been waiting for Drogo. As long as Drogo did not appear, Viserys had not given the order to start the fire.

That was because Viserys's only goal was to kill Drogo, even if it meant sacrificing many soldiers in the process.

And now, Drogo had finally appeared on the front lines. Since the target had entered the trap, the young king no longer held back and set the great fire ablaze.

Countless arrows, soaked in pitch, were ignited and shot toward the rear of the Dothraki forces. When the Andalos army left the pitch, they deliberately created a blank area to separate the Dothraki forces, dividing their army while also preventing the fire from reaching themselves in the narrow terrain of the ruined city.

Although it was inevitable that they would be affected to some extent, it was insignificant compared to the outcome of the battle.

"The wind direction today is just right."

White horse manes scattered in the wind like dazzling snowflakes, Viserys sat on his warhorse, his handsome face as calm as still water, though it was hard to say his heart was completely untroubled.

Steel-clad fingers reflected dazzling light in the morning sun.

Click—

He clenched his hand tightly together.

This was the first time King Viserys Targaryen III commanded such a large-scale battle.

Unlike the previous Battle of Wind's Breath Keep, this time he was independently in charge, with Prince Oberyn of Dorne playing only an auxiliary role.

This was the culmination of his years of countless small battles, including studying the histories of various noble families, drawing lessons from history, and eventually bearing fruit.

"In the Conquest War, the Battle of Blackwater was a great fire that put an end to King Loren Lannister of the Rock and King Mern Gardener IX of the Reach, uniting their forces of nearly 55,000 men in Goldengrove."

He didn't dare claim to understand military tactics or warfare completely, as there were many, many people in this world better than him. However, Viserys had never underestimated his enemies.

Starting with his confrontation with Drogo, he had adopted a do-or-die attitude, devising ways to kill his opponent day and night.

But clearly, Drogo had not taken him seriously on the first day of the battle.

Even on the second day, Drogo felt this was just a flock of sheep that would collapse upon impact, merely lasting a bit longer.

"Arm yourselves!"

Then, Viserys turned and ordered the heavy cavalry behind him to put on their armor.

The time had finally come to reap the rewards of victory. The heavy cavalry, which the young king had spent over two thousand gold dragons to create, would play a role for the first time.

This heavy cavalry unit consisted of 108 knights, 99 squires, 19 mounted archers, one trumpeter, and one dedicated farrier.

Whooosh—

All the finest knights of Andalos heard Viserys's order. With the help of their squires, they quickly donned their armor, and their one-in-a-hundred strong warhorses began to be covered with heavy horse armor.

"It's finally our turn."

"It's time to let these fragile eggs taste the flavor of stone!"

Sir Evan of the Rhoynar, captain of the heavy cavalry, carried a double-bladed battleaxe on his shoulders, and the knights were all eager to fight.

They had not had the opportunity to participate in the fierce battles of the past two days, but now they could finally join the fray and give the Dothraki a memorable and profound lesson.

...

Meanwhile, among the Dothraki.

This great fire caught them off guard.

"Loose arrows!"

The order came from the rear of the Andalos line. Countless Andalos archers, positioned behind the line and on both sides of the ruined city, had long been prepared.

Whooosh—

Andalos archers emerged from all directions, their arrowheads soaked in pitch, then ignited in the flames before being fired just before the flames burnt through the shaft.

Bang, bang, bang—

The sound of bowstrings echoed, and a rain of flaming arrows shot into the sky.

Then they quickly fell, aiming straight at the Gorro Road, which was soaked with pitch.

Chapter 126: Sorcery

Now, the Dothraki had penetrated deep into the heart of Gulltown, and the Andalos army was retreating step by step, on the verge of collapse.

But at this very moment, the situation took a sudden turn.

A dark curtain of arrows rained down from the sky.

Thud, thud, thud -

Arrows soaked in oil fell among the Dothraki, instantly igniting a storm of blood and carnage.

Flaming arrowheads pierced flesh, and Dothraki warriors screamed in agony as they fell from their horses.

Some of the arrows that did not hit their targets fell to the ground, their flaming tips igniting the oil spilled on the ground, along with dry straw and wood, creating a raging fire.

Whoosh~

As if by magic, a great fire surged up in an instant.

In the blink of an eye, the sky was ablaze.

The Dothraki were utterly unprepared. They had just heard their Khal issue the order to retreat and were filled with anger and confusion.

But with the example of the challenger who had been killed the previous day, no one dared to question Drogo's command today. They were about to retreat, but it was already too late.

The fierce fire caught the oil unawares, and the Dothraki riders felt the heat beneath their feet. Then, looking down, they found themselves enveloped in a sea of red flames.

Billowing black smoke rushed into their eyes, blinding them and causing them to cry out in pain. Their frightened horses screamed as well.

Dothraki warriors fell from their mounts and plunged into the fiery sea.

Hiss...

In an instant, it was as if meat sizzling on a hot griddle, the sharp sound of fat hitting the flames, accompanied by chilling screams, sent shivers down one's spine.

"Ah—"

...

Thick black smoke shot up into the sky.

The surging flames mercilessly devoured the lives of the Dothraki in the middle section, leaving their army divided into three parts.

The rear half had not yet stormed the city, the front half was engaged in battle with the Andalos forces, and the middle section was consumed by the fire.

"Sorcery—"

"This is definitely sorcery!"

The rear half of the Dothraki, witnessing the gruesome fate of their fellow tribesmen, were filled with terror. Due to their low education, these Dothraki were extremely superstitious and had limited resources in their tribes.

Even water unfit for their horses to drink was deemed "poisonous," they refused to touch the corpses of those they did not kill themselves, the number "thirteen" was considered highly ominous, and any unexplainable phenomenon was labeled "sorcery."

Ferocious Dothraki warriors would become as meek as lambs when faced with sorcery. Many in the rear half of the army dismounted and prostrated themselves on the ground, begging the witch to show mercy.

"Damn sorcery—"

Even the warriors who did not prostrate themselves wore expressions of terror, brandishing their curved swords and cursing loudly.

But no matter how much they cursed, they dared not take a single step towards the raging fire.

Stomp, stomp, stomp...

At the same time, they struggled to control their restless mounts. The horses pawed the ground nervously, and the Dothraki warriors clung tightly to their comrades' necks, hoping to calm their horses and prevent them from bolting in fear.

The rear half of the Dothraki army was affected by the wind, smoke and fire, and they feared sorcery, so they dared not move forward.

...

In the midst of the battle, Dothraki warriors found themselves trapped in a sea of fire, struggling desperately to find a way out.

Thud, thud, thud...

Many of them, engulfed in flames, burst from the inferno and fell to the ground from their horses. They rolled on the ground, trying to extinguish the fire.

"Help me!"

"Help me!"

Splash...

However, more Dothraki in the rear scattered instantly, fearing to approach those set ablaze by the sorcery.

As for the Dothraki fighting the Andalosian army at the front, they were the most unfortunate.

With their escape route cut off and flames raging behind them, the once adorable lambs turned into ferocious wolves, baring their teeth and trying to drive them into the fiery maelstrom.

"Sorcery!"

"The despicable enemy is using sorcery!"

The frightened Dothraki, with no way to retreat, brandished their arakhs.

They would rather die by the enemy's hand than perish in the sorcery. Being burned to death was different from dying under a spell; they feared that their souls wouldn't reach the heavens if killed by sorcery.

The once fearless Dothraki on the battlefield were now broken by the mere mention of "sorcery."

The Andalosian army pushed forward, forcing many Dothraki into the sea of fire, where they screamed in agony.

"Stop!"

Those in the rear didn't want to be pushed into the fire, but their comrades at the front were being crushed by the Andalosian forces, retreating step by step.

Under such circumstances, some finally took action.

"Kill!"

"Fight through!"

The Dothraki on the verge of being pushed into the fire drew their blades, killing their comrades in front of them and then pushing forward.

Others followed suit, striking down their kin in front of them. The Dothraki fighting the Andalosian soldiers never expected such betrayal from their own people.

In an instant, the army divided by the flames collapsed. Many Dothraki from other Khalasars, previously conquered by Drogo, threw away their arakhs and surrendered, hands on their heads.

The worst outcome would be a swift death by the blade, far better than burning alive. Some might even be sold into slavery, as there were no shortage of Dothraki in the slave market.

These fierce, strong slaves were not very expensive, and many arenas and merchant caravans were willing to buy them as warriors.

With others leading the way, the remaining Dothraki surrendered much more easily, losing contact with their Khal. Droves of them dropped their arakhs and submitted.

"Round up the horses!"

"Tie these people up!"

Andalosian soldiers then charged, pushing the remaining stubborn Dothraki into the fire or killing them in battle.

The surrendered Dothraki were bound tightly, and their horses were gathered.

...

Meanwhile, far away across the Sunset Sea,

"Look!"

"What is that?"

The Ironborn, who had recently suppressed a rebellion, looked up at the sky.

A blood-red comet with a long tail illuminated more than half the sky, its brightness even surpassing the moon.

"This is..."

An elderly Ironborn stared at the sky, his aged face pale and his cracked lips trembling. ...

Chapter 127: Unprecedented Change in a Century

"This..."

"This is...the Wrath of the Drowned God!"

Some of the older Ironborn, gazing at the blood-red comet above them, tremble slightly as they point at it, then fall to the ground, prostrating repeatedly.

"This is the punishment from the Drowned God for our failure to restore the old ways!"

The Iron Islands' tumultuous rebellion was thoroughly suppressed in less than a year. The Ironborn were either killed or injured, and with the events still fresh in their minds, they naturally associated the red comet with the 'Wrath of the Drowned God.'

Large groups of Ironborn, hearing these words, fell to their knees in terror, prostrating in the direction of the red comet, hoping to extinguish the Drowned God's anger.

Meanwhile, in Pyke, Balon Greyjoy, who had recently donned and removed a crown, stood in the middle of a bridge, his cheeks looking even more withered and weathered than before.

Listening to the roaring waves beneath him and the reports of his loyal subordinates, he gazed at the red comet above him and remained silent for a moment.

...

At the same time.

People all over Westeros also witnessed the red comet.

In the faraway Castle Black.

Two men of the Night's Watch, clad in black cloaks, unbuckled their belts at the edge of the world and urinated steaming yellow streams towards the lands of Always Winter.

As they prepared to head back, arms around each other's shoulders, they saw the red comet streaking across the sky with a long tail.

"What is that?"

Rustle...

More brothers of the Night's Watch emerged from their rooms in Castle Black, gazing at the blood-red comet in the sky.

Such a marvelous celestial phenomenon was rare, but the usually boastful men found themselves at a loss for words when faced with this simple question.

For astronomy was truly beyond their knowledge.

Jeor Mormont, the 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, had a talking raven perched on his shoulder and wore a bear fur cloak. He joined his brothers outside, squinting his weary yellow eyes at the wondrous celestial event.

"Why not call it 'Mormont's Torch'?"

An unknown brother of the Night's Watch started the joke, and all the men in black laughed heartily, understanding the meaning in a second.

"Does old Mormont's torch still work?"

The brothers of the Night's Watch teased, laughing and joking.

"Be careful, or the Lord Commander might unsheathe his 'sword' and scare you to death."

Old Jeor didn't seem to mind the joke, but a hint of helplessness crossed his weathered face. He then waved his hand and scolded them to get lost.

"Go!"

Afterward, the old man looked up again at the red comet streaking overhead.

At first, the marvelous sight was surprising, but after a few glances, it lost its charm.

The old man shook his head and returned to his room.

...

In Oldtown, at the Citadel.

In the silent corridors, hurried footsteps echoed clearly.

Tap tap...

"What?"

"How is this possible?"

...

At the same time, there were hushed whispers, as if discussing something, expressing doubt and disbelief. The swaying figure carrying the lantern gently placed it on the ground.

Clatter...

The wavering figure pulled out a heavy set of keys, inserted them into the massive keyhole, and struggled to turn the nearly rusted lock. At last, with a "click," the lock was finally opened.

Afterward, the figure took a few deep breaths, raised their hand, and creaked open the door. However, they abruptly stopped just as they were about to step inside, standing at the doorway, staring at the scene before them, and gradually opening their mouth in shock.

"What..."

It was clear that the sight before them was utterly surprising. Their shadow was cast on the wall behind them, with one hand covering their mouth, and their beard trembling.

At that moment, another figure hidden in the shadows, not illuminated by the lantern, spoke up.

"It seems like something big is about to happen."

"Let's inform the Archmaester first."

In fact, someone who has achieved a qualified accomplishment in a certain professional field can be called a Maester. If a Maester's knowledge in a certain field is considered "masterly," they will be awarded the corresponding ring, rod, and mask, as well as the title of Archmaester, to recognize their expertise.

Archmaesters are senior members within the Citadel, granted the right to sit in the Conclave. The Conclave is the governing body of the Citadel, and even the Grand Maester who advises the king in King's Landing is elected by them.

Every year, the Conclave of the Citadel elects a Seneschal by drawing lots from among those present, who will manage the affairs of the Citadel.

Now that such a significant event had occurred, it was only natural to inform the current Seneschal of the Citadel, Archmaester Ambrose, who had earned the title of Doctor in the field of medicine and possessed a silver ring, rod, and mask.

The two figures hurriedly closed the door, not forgetting to reinsert the heavy lock before rushing to the Seneschal's quarters.

However, when the two arrived at the Seneschal's room, carrying their lanterns, they found that Archmaester Ambrose was not there, and only after much difficulty did they locate him.

...

At present.

Several members of the Citadel's Conclave had gathered in Archmaester Walin's quarters, who specialized in astronomy. They were observing the sky through a strange mirror, focusing on a red comet with a long tail.

"This is a sword that slays the seasons."

"It heralds the departure of spring and the arrival of summer."

Walin, Archmaester of Astronomy and mentor to Maester Gunther, was explaining something.

However, at this moment, the door was knocked upon.

"Come in."

Subsequently, two middle-aged Maesters entered, bowed slightly, and walked up to the Seneschal. They whispered something in his ear.

"What?"

Archmaester Ambrose, upon hearing their words, was slightly taken aback. He raised his grizzled head, widened his eyes, and hoarsely, incredulously, asked:

"The glass candles are burning again?"

The gathered Archmaesters were analyzing the sudden appearance of the red comet and what omen it might bring.

No one had expected this sudden turn of events. The glass candles had been extinguished for over a century, and no one could light them again.

But now, they had ignited without the need for a flame, seemingly out of thin air.

The other Archmaesters in the room exchanged glances, knowing this was no small matter.

The four glass candles preserved by the Citadel had been brought from Valyria before the Doom, a catastrophe that occurred a thousand years ago. Although not fully confirmed, according to the conjectures of generations of Archmaesters, the glass candles might be closely related to the existence of magic.

"What on earth is going on?"

"This is a change that hasn't happened in a century."

Subsequently, the group of elderly scholars, too preoccupied to pay attention to the red comet overhead, hurried to the room where the glass candles were stored.

Chapter 128: Breaking the Army

As the red comet streaked across the sky, it elicited various reactions across the entire continent of Westeros.

The Ironborn of the Iron Islands believed it triggered the "Wrath of the Drowned God," while the maesters of Oldtown and the Septons of the Faith of the Seven declared it a normal astronomical phenomenon, calling it the "Sword of the Seven Gods Slaying the Seasons."

In the Riverlands, the soldiers gazed at the sky and referred to the red comet as the Red Messenger, foreshadowing that victorious news would soon be abundant.

At the Red Keep in King's Landing, the people called it King Robert's Comet. They flattered the recently victorious King Robert, who indulged in feasts and drank until he was unconscious. Ser Jaime Lannister eventually had to carry the king back to his bedchamber, an act that left Jaime with a sore back for days.

However, some citizens of King's Landing also called the comet the Red Messenger, and others referred to it as the Dragon's Tail Star.

The last embers of House Targaryen were slowly gaining power across the Narrow Sea in Essos. They had acquired several cities and territories that rivaled the size of a kingdom, and this news gradually made its way to King's Landing with the help of merchant caravans.

Although the Red Keep issued orders to strictly suppress this information and capture those spreading such rumors, the gold cloaks of King's Landing were struggling to contain the gossip in a city with a population of over half a million. They could hardly clean up the daily waste produced by the people, let alone control the mouths of so many.

Some preferred the Baratheons, others the Targaryens, and thus the meaning of the Dragon's Tail Star became ambiguous.

In a blacksmith's shop in King's Landing, a black-haired boy believed the comet resembled a red-hot sword drawn from a forge.

This, however, was of little consequence.

...

On the battlefield in Ghaston Grey, the war was reaching its final stages.

"In the name of the Seven Gods and the Mother Rhoyne—"

Viserys, clad in resplendent silver armor, rode a white horse with a flowing mane. He held a lance in one hand and led more than a hundred heavy cavalrymen.

"Defeat all those who would plunder our wealth, enslave our wives and children, and sell us into bondage!"

The young king led his cavalry around the still-burning fires and charged into the heart of the battlefield.

With a thunderous rumble—

The morale of the Dothraki had reached its lowest point. They were ill-suited for storming towns and had been ambushed after breaching the city walls.

The fire had separated their forces, with most of the horde either consumed by the flames or trapped within the city, like turtles caught in a pot. The remaining Dothraki who had not entered the city had lost the will to fight.

Their ranks included elderly, women, and even children who usually followed the army to collect weapons and arrowheads from corpses. They never expected to find themselves on the front lines.

At this moment, a faint tremor shook the ground, and a muffled roar echoed through the air, striking terror into the hearts of the disoriented Dothraki.

Without their Khal, the Dothraki were like a pack of wolves without a leader, unsure of their next move.

The confused Dothraki language filled the air as they argued and offered their own suggestions, but no one held the authority to command them all.

Their Khal was trapped in the inferno or perhaps already dead, and they seemed to sense danger looming.

.

Thud...

The hooves of the horses stomped uneasily on the ground, and the Dothraki riders exchanged nervous glances, gripping their reins tightly. They, as well as their steeds, could sense the unsettling atmosphere in the air.

But the next scene provided them with an answer.

Upon a hill not far from Ghis Dothrak, a group of knights clad in armor cleared the slopes, their shimmering reflections gleaming in the sunlight.

The heavily armed Andal horsemen charged, their hefty hooves pounding the ground, kicking up dust like a long, winding smoke dragon.

At the forefront was a knight in silver armor, astride a beautiful white steed, one hand holding the reins while the other gripped a long spear. He was the first to plunge into the crowd of Dothraki.

Two Dothraki warriors, spotting the knight, roared in anger, mustering their courage and spurring their horses forward with arakhs in hand, attempting to stop the intruder.

"Die."

The knight's pale violet eyes merely narrowed, and his grip tightened around the spear.

With a flick of his wrist, the sharp tip of the spear thrust forth, piercing the neck of one Dothraki warrior.

Splurt—

A burst of the enemy's blood sprayed.

Thunderous...

The panicked hooves of the fleeing horses echoed in the distance.

The fallen warrior's body lay lifeless on the ground, head almost completely severed from the impact.

The other Dothraki warrior attacking Viserys had his curved blade pressed against the knight's helmet.

Clang—

It grazed the white plume atop his helmet before Viserys deftly tilted his head, narrowly avoiding the strike.

Curses in the Dothraki language followed, as the attacker had thought the blow would decapitate the armored foe, yet it was dodged.

But before the curse could fully leave his lips, he felt a heavy blow to his chest.

Thud—

Viserys impaled one enemy and dodged the blade, the spear scraping against his steel gauntlet with a screeching sound. The heavy spear slammed into the Dothraki's chest.

Thump...

The Dothraki warrior tumbled off his horse, landing on the ground with his fate uncertain.

However, before he could rise again, he was trampled to a pulp by the horsemen following Viserys.

The heavily armed knights made quick work of the bewildered and terrified light cavalry.

Unstoppable.

Like molten lava from a volcanic eruption, they melted through the Dothraki ranks within moments.

Finally, the Dothraki began to scatter, no longer adhering to their Khalasars or Khalasar formations. All semblance of order had been lost amidst the chaos that followed the fall of the Khal.

The Dothraki translator Viserys had spared earlier finally proved his worth.

The knight, Evan, grabbed the translator, his voice booming like thunder.

"Tell them!"

"Hand over Drogo! Or none shall be spared!"

...

Chapter 129: The Curtain Falls

Viserys personally led the cavalry, crushing the last bit of resistance in the hearts of the Dothraki.

On the other side, Oberyn's forces managed to hold off the Dothraki who, upon seeing the turn of events, decisively withdrew from the battle. However, they did not join forces with their kin, but retreated in a different direction.

The Dothraki Khalasar was made up of various Khalasars. When a Khal died, all the Khalasars were essentially liberated, turning into flexible smaller groups.

If a new Khal could be chosen within a short period of time, the situation would be manageable. If not, these Khalasars would break away from the Khalasar and form new Khalasars, or join other Khals' tribes.

At this point, although no clear news had been received, the leader of this Khalasars believed that Khal Drogo had likely perished in the great fire, reduced to ashes.

Khal Drogo was dead.

Otherwise, the main forces would not be in such chaos.

"These Dothraki are finished," Oberyn thought.

In the distance, Oberyn watched the Dothraki who had just been battling them retreat without giving chase.

Although they had won this battle, Oberyn did not become arrogant. He knew that the ordinary Andalosi cavalry would never be able to defeat the Dothraki on horseback. They were outnumbered, had fewer horses, and were less skilled in horsemanship.

This victory was due to the Dothraki underestimating Viserys, who had considered them mortal enemies from the start and had carefully set a trap.

The sacrificed soldiers, the pitfalls, and the caltrops were all part of a scheme to lure the Dothraki into a cage.

"Once the beast is in the cage, you can wield a big stick to teach it a lesson," Oberyn thought.

The narrow terrain was not suitable for the Dothraki to unleash their full potential. If the battle had taken place in the open wilderness, even a great fire would not have caused such significant damage.

In the crowded urban environment, the destructive power of a fire increased tenfold or even more.

"What a brilliant strategy," Oberyn sighed. He removed his helmet, revealing sweat-soaked hair plastered to his face and scalp. The well-designed armor was almost airtight, sweltering in the summer and freezing in the winter.

The Prince of Dorne wiped the sweat from his brow, threw his helmet to the ground, and dismounted from his warhorse.

...

In the distance, Viserys and the heavy cavalry shattered the Dothraki's will to resist. Their heavy iron hooves tore through the disorganized formation like a ferocious tiger entering a flock of sheep, bringing an unstoppable force.

The remaining elderly, weak, and sick Dothraki were powerless to stop the heavy cavalry, scattering in all directions. Among them were warriors who drew their arakhs and charged to stop the ironclad knights.

However, their unarmored horses were like sandbags, sent flying upon impact.

Boom.

The rider, too, spat blood and fell heavily to the ground.

Meanwhile, those who managed to bypass the front of the heavy cavalry charge and attempted to cut down the Andalosi knights discovered they could not break their defenses.

Clang, clang, clang...

The crude Dothraki arakhs left only shallow scratches on the finely crafted, heavy armor. The attackers' wrists ached from the impact.

In terror, they watched as the knights unsheathed their swords and cut them down.

One by one, the iron hooves mercilessly trampled the fallen Dothraki, grinding them into the earth , forever becoming one with the land.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

The heavy cavalry continued their onslaught, crushing any remaining resistance from the Dothraki. Those who were once proud warriors now lay broken and defeated, their dreams of conquest extinguished.

As the curtain fell on this brutal conflict, the outcome was clear. Viserys and his forces had emerged victorious, their enemies scattered and broken. The remnants of the Dothraki Khalasar would now have to face a new reality, their once-feared power diminished.

And as the dust settled on the battlefield, the survivors would have to pick up the pieces and forge a new path, whether that meant joining another Khalasar or forming their own.

But for now, the battle was over, and the Andalosi could finally breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that they had survived and triumphed against all odds.

.

Viserys' breathing was heavy beneath his armor, and his arm holding the lance felt a severe burning sensation, as he had exhausted his strength.

His warhorse, too, had spent all its energy, its body burning hot, and sweat dripping onto the ground, mingling with the nauseating blood.

"Your Grace."

An attendant quickly rushed forward to help Viserys dismount from his steed.

Clang.

The young king's armor rattled as he was lifted off the horse, his body drenched in blood like a gourd, having killed an untold number of enemies.

His legs felt weak as he stood, and with the help of his attendant, he removed the silver helmet from his head.

Viserys then took in deep breaths of fresh air.

All the heavy cavalry soldiers, with the assistance of their attendants, dismounted their horses as well, for they were as exhausted as the young king and unable to do so on their own.

Their warhorses were also drained, their heavy breathing from their lungs sounding like they were about to explode. Sweat mixed with blood dripped down, and the dismounting knights' shifting heavy armor could potentially pull their horses to the ground, causing injury or even death.

"The war is over," Viserys declared, his chest heaving. With the help of his attendant, he gradually removed the rest of his armor, freeing himself from its weight.

Click.

The attendant removed Viserys' breastplate, and the king felt his breathing become much smoother.

From dawn to dusk.

The battle had lasted an entire day.

Now, besides the bodies scattered across the field, there were no Dothraki in sight. The dead were dead, and the rest had fled in all directions.

The setting sun cast its dying light upon the chaotic battlefield.

Even if Viserys wanted to pursue the Dothraki, he lacked the strength to do so, and their horses were slower than the Dothraki's.

"Has Drogo's body been found?" Viserys asked, removing his armor and sitting down on a Dothraki corpse without concern for the filth. After catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his brow, he spoke.

"I don't know," the attendant replied, shaking his head, as he had not received any news on this matter.

"Your Grace."

At that moment, a fast horse approached from a distance. A soldier rode on its back, bearing news. He arrived in front of Viserys and dismounted.

"Your Grace, we have found the body of Khal Drogo."

"Really?" Viserys stood up suddenly upon hearing the soldier's words, but he felt dizzy.

"Your Grace."

He was supported by the guard beside him, but Viserys waved his hand after taking a breath. He was just a little weak, and he would be fine after eating something.

But there was a more important matter at hand.

"Take me to see it."

Chapter 130: The Death of Drogo

Not much time had passed.

Clip-clop-clip...

The sound of horse hooves echoed, and then someone dismounted.

"Over here..."

The young king, already out of his armor, arrived at the site of the great fire, surrounded by his soldiers.

Now, the ground beneath their feet was scorched and blackened, emanating intense heat. Stepping on it, one could still feel a slight warmth. The charred corpses were unrecognizable, reduced to brittle, charcoal-like remains, crushed to dust beneath their feet.

Crack

Viserys' steps shattered a burnt corpse, walking with shallow and deep strides, following the soldiers to the place where Drogo's body was found.

Some unextinguished embers still flickered on the ground nearby, swaying gently in the wind.

"Viserys, this place is actually quite dangerous."

"A slight carelessness and the flames will rekindle."

As the deputy commander of the legion, Oberyn also arrived at the scene. Viserys had consistently ordered the death of Drogo.

Sure enough, killing the Khal would instantly plunge the entire Khalasar into chaos.

From the moment the Khal died, they were no longer part of a tribe in the strictest sense and could freely leave the Khalasar.

Thus, the war lost its purpose.

After the war ended, Viserys demanded to search for Drogo's body, which was finally found.

"That's right."

At this moment, Viserys was draped in a white animal skin cloak, shielding himself from the cold wind, having just sweated profusely inside his armor.

Under current medical conditions, even a cold could be considered a serious illness.

Now, he and Oberyn walked side by side through the ruins, struggling to bear the nauseating stench in the air as they pressed forward.

"Move, move, make way."

The attendants then parted the soldiers who were watching up ahead.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

"Prince."

The Andalos soldiers who had been observing Drogo's body while cleaning up the battlefield saw Viserys and Oberyn approaching and hurriedly made way for them.

"Um."

Viserys' face still showed a hint of fatigue, but he nodded slightly, patting the shoulders of the soldiers nearby.

Without saying much, he entered the center of the spectacle.

There were three corpses at the scene, which had been tidied up and separated from the other charred remains.

"Your Majesty, Prince."

The officer responsible for cleaning up the battlefield, his face sooty from the smoke and fire, reported to Viserys.

"When we found them, they were buried under many other bodies, and it took a lot of effort to dig them out."

"But some parts of the bodies are still missing."

The three charred corpses on the ground were not whole, with some parts scattered and others intact. The soldiers had done their best to piece them back together, but many parts were still missing.

Viserys naturally wouldn't blame the soldiers for this, and he nodded slightly.

"Well done."

Then he squatted down in front of the three charred corpses to examine them closely.

He didn't recognize the other two bodies with weaker frames, but he immediately identified the strong one in the middle.

"This... really does look like Drogo."

When Viserys saw him, he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart.

Although the body was burned beyond recognition, he could still vaguely recognize it based on his previous encounters with Drogo.

"It must be him."

Oberyn stood beside Viserys, having once crossed swords with Drogo on the battlefield at close range, leaving a deep impression on him.

Now, this charred corpse towered over them, its size indicating that it must have been a strong and formidable man, not too dissimilar from Drogo. The only difference was that the braid on top of its head had been completely burned away.

If only the hair hadn't been burned off, it would have been irrefutable evidence.

"It's a pity his hair was burned away," Oberyn said, not the least bit fearful, as he lifted and toyed with Drogo's skull.

"No one in this Khalasar had longer hair than Drogo. It is said that this man had never lost a battle since the day he was born."

Although their last encounter had ended in a draw, Oberyn had a gut feeling that he might not have been a match for Drogo.

The Dothraki horselord seemed to be a terrifying killer born for battle.

"However...now he has lost a battle, and this defeat cost him his life."

Oberyn shook his head slightly, clicking his tongue in regret.

If possible, he would have liked to challenge Drogo again. The lean Dornishman then rose from the ground.

"I'm starting to believe what you said, Viserys."

"If this man could have continued to live, he might have become the most powerful Khal in the Great Grass Sea."

"When I have the time, I'll write a poem for him."

The romantically inclined and erudite Prince of Dorne had a penchant for writing poetry.

The quality of his poetry was extremely high. If he could let go of his hatred and the identity of House Martell, he might have chosen to be a wandering bard.

"As you wish," Viserys replied, still gazing at the face that was only vaguely familiar. Then he looked up and spoke.

"Bring in a few Dothraki captives for identification."

Viserys pointed to the two corpses beside him.

"Verify their identities as well."

"Understood."

...

Not long after, Dothraki translators and captives were brought in. Viserys repeated his previous words.

The captives and translators looked at Drogo's body with a hint of sadness in their eyes, then nodded, confirming his identity once more.

"Your Grace, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, this is the body of the Khal."

"And those two are his bloodriders, Haggo and Cohollo."

The Dothraki translator relayed everyone's words, and only then did Viserys finally let go of his worries.

It seemed that Drogo had indeed been burned to death.

Viserys exhaled softly, feeling as if the heavy burden on his shoulders had finally been lifted.

Drogo was dead.

This meant that the tragic trajectory of his life had been thoroughly changed at this moment.

However, just then...

"Look!"

"Everyone, look at the sky! What is that?"

A sudden uproar came from the distance.

A soldier standing next to Viserys also shouted.

"Huh?"

"What happened?"

Viserys and the surrounding Andal soldiers heard his voice and looked up at the sky.

They then saw a red comet with a long tail slashing across the horizon.

"This..."

Viserys stared wide-eyed at the brilliant and beautiful red comet in the sky. .

Chapter 131: An Unexpected Surprise No One Saw Coming

"Is this...?"

Viserys stood with the surrounding soldiers, staring blankly at the sky in front of Drogo's corpse.

The surrounding smoke had not yet fully dissipated, and everywhere there were charred bodies, shattered armor, wounded soldiers, and banners that were now only half their original size.

The devastation on the ground was in stark contrast to the brilliance of the sky.

"This means His Majesty has triumphed over the Dothraki!"

"This is a blessing from the Seven Gods."

People whispered in awe of the stunning celestial display.

At this moment, an Andal soldier spoke up softly, clearly trying to flatter Viserys.

However, his words were immediately rebutted by a Rhoynish soldier.

"You old bald man, stop spouting nonsense."

"We are now by the Mother River; this must be a blessing from the Rhoyne for His Majesty."

The two soldiers were arguing quietly, but it was evident they had a good relationship, and their banter was mostly playful.

"It's... it's so beautiful."

"It's like a red gem."

Another soldier standing beside Viserys couldn't help but murmur while looking at the sky.

Indeed, every place, every person, had their own interpretation of the red comet.

But making a wish upon the comet was something many people did instinctively, placing their hopes and expectations on the fleeting natural phenomenon.

Viserys' primary wish was, of course, to survive and live well. If he could go further, he naturally hoped to reclaim the Iron Throne, as he had promised his mother.

The soldiers' wishes were much more simple and unpretentious – promotions and wealth, just like how they saw a comet as a brilliant red gem.

Viserys looked at the comet overhead and suddenly felt a touch of inexplicable melancholy.

He couldn't pinpoint the origin of this emotion.

Was it because killing Drogo had finally changed his once-inescapable fate, or was it due to the uncertainty of the road ahead?

Although he couldn't recall the exact time, Viserys remembered that the red comet was supposed to appear after his sister Daenerys had grown up.

It also seemed to symbolize the return of magic.

As his advisor on magic and mysticism, Miss Mirri , had said, she sensed that magical powers were reviving.

However, the reality was that Daenerys was only six years old now, which was the cause of Viserys' confusion.

Had everything...

Come early?

The shift in the timeline had advanced events by seven or eight years, filling Viserys with an indescribable sense of dread.

This fear stemmed from the unknown, just as people have always been afraid of what they cannot see.

Darkness, demons, the future...

"It'll be okay."

Viserys sighed, patting the daydreaming soldier on the shoulder...

No.

The young king looked up at the sky again. The sun was setting, and the sky was growing darker.

This great battle had lasted from morning until dusk, and only now had the curtain finally fallen.

Viserys' good mood also gradually faded, returning to calmness. He then gestured for the soldiers to give Drogo a proper burial, as he was an opponent worthy of respect.

He ordered the guards to stay behind while he took a solitary walk towards the distance.

"Feeling down?"

Oberyn seemed to notice the young king's sudden change in mood.

He had also been looking up at the blood-red comet, but he hadn't seen anything particularly significant about it.

.

Then, the dark eyes turned to look at Viserys's retreating figure.

"Alright."

"I want to take a walk alone."

However, Viserys did not look back, simply waving his hand as a response to Oberyn, who was not far away.

"Fine...okay."

The middle-aged man spread his palms, his short, curly black hair tousled by the wind.

He did not know why Viserys had suddenly become despondent, but he wanted to comfort him. To his surprise, he was bluntly rejected.

Oberyn then remembered the letter he had recently received from his brother in Dorne, rubbing his temples slightly, feeling a bit of a headache.

How should he put it?

Oberyn had been trying to find an opportunity to talk to Viserys about this issue.

However, before he could find the right time, they were attacked by the Dothraki, and afterward, there was no time to bring it up.

But this matter could not be delayed any longer. As Viserys grew older and the power of Andalos increased...

This issue should be settled sooner rather than later, otherwise, the interests of House Martell could not be guaranteed.

Although Oberyn had been in Andalos for many years and had become friends with Viserys, he still could not refuse his family's interests and his brother's wishes.

"I'll find another opportunity."

Oberyn sighed as he watched Viserys's figure gradually recede into the distance.

On the ground, Drogo's unrecognizable corpse had been carried away by the soldiers and placed on a pyre, surrounded by a considerable amount of firewood, prepared to burn him to ashes in the traditional Dothraki way.

Oberyn stretched his shoulders. After a day of fighting, he was ready to go back and rest.

However, at this moment.

An unexpected change was quietly occurring that no one had anticipated.

The red comet in the sky, with its long tail, seemed to be gradually enlarging in everyone's view.

At first, no one paid much attention.

Viserys had already gone off to walk quietly by himself, and Oberyn was about to head back to rest after stretching his muscles.

Some soldiers were busy preparing Drogo's funeral, while others were cleaning up the battlefield.

As night gradually enveloped the land, the red comet's light even obscured the bright moon in the sky.

Then, a soldier noticed something was off and asked uncertainly.

"Is...is it getting bigger?"

"Do any of you feel that way?"

With the first person's reminder, the rest of the soldiers who were secretly gazing at the sky also realized.

"Huh, it seems... true?"

"What's going on? Is it going to fall?"

The soldiers put down their work, looking up at the red comet in the sky that was growing larger.

However, there was no panic or fear on their faces, but rather, they were excitedly discussing it.

Because the object flying across the sky looked small to them, only the size of a wheel.

A middle-aged soldier, puffing on a long pipe, exhaled a cloud of smoke and then spoke in a faint voice.

"Hmph…"

"Such a small thing, even if it falls, it won't have much power, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

The surrounding soldiers also nodded in agreement, feeling that this made sense.

They had just fought and defeated the Dothraki, so what could a small thing falling from the sky do?

...

Chapter 132: Fallen

In truth, widespread illiteracy was not unique to Andaros; it was prevalent in many other places as well.

Deciphering the mysteries of the sun, moon, and stars was still premature for this era.

Followers of the Lord of Light would light bonfires at sunset every day, giving thanks to R'hllor for the day that had just passed and asking him to bring back the sun the following day to dispel the darkness.

The Qartheen, on the other hand, believed the moon was an egg. They claimed there were originally two moons in the sky, but one flew too close to the sun and exploded due to the intense heat.

From that explosion, thousands upon thousands of dragons emerged, absorbing the sun's flames. That, they said, was why dragons could breathe fire. One day, the remaining moon would also kiss the sun and explode, and dragons would return to the world.

The Dothraki believed the moon was a goddess and the sun was her husband, and so on...

Soldiers were engaged in animated discussions about these matters.

Viserys walked alone to a quiet, secluded area nearby. Under the night sky, the young boy's silvery-gold hair fluttered in the breeze.

He needed some time to himself.

There were various reasons for this.

Perhaps it was the aftereffects of leading a major battle for the first time. After experiencing significant moments in life, people often find themselves in need of a moment of reflection.

The young king sat down on a patch of ground free from dirt and bloodstains.

Clang...

He then drew the dagger he always carried from his waist.

With the bright moonlight and the glow of the red comet above, the dagger's smooth blade reflected a faint shimmer.

Three seconds later.

Whoosh.

A cloud of black mist appeared before Viserys as expected.

The true nature of the black mist remained a mystery to Viserys even now.

However, one thing was certain: if he wanted power, he needed to keep killing other humans.

Then, he would draw the black mist from their lifeless bodies to strengthen himself.

Killing others... to increase his power?

It seemed like he was engaging in a sinister and terrifying deal with the devil.

It was tempting Viserys to become a demon.

At his lowest and most helpless moment, when he had been betrayed and had consumed a large amount of hallucinogens, the young king had been tempted to burn Dragonstone to the ground.

Would he have ascended to godhood then?

However, Viserys had managed to control his wildly growing inner desires at the time.

Massacring cities...

Hellish scenes would suddenly appear before his eyes.

Razing villages...

The iron hooves of the Andaros army could easily trample towns and villages, and the innocent captives could be executed one by one by Viserys himself.

He did not know what he would become if he were to maximize his growth by acting so brutally.

Would he become the greatest tyrant in Essos, including Westeros?

Or would he become a monstrous creature, neither human nor ghost?

Yet, as Viserys' power grew, his twisted ambitions also grew alongside him.

He had always been extremely restrained, even somewhat resistant.

He never hid his distrust of the black mist and always maintained a cautious attitude.

The reason, of course, was this deal with the devil. Yet, he could not bear to completely sever the connection between them.

.

From that moment on, he vowed never to kill another person.

But clearly, he couldn't keep that promise.

It was a struggle against his own conscience.

Although he was selfish, conquering Loyna villages one by one, he was not a thorough demon.

"Will I eventually... become a demon?"

Huh.

Viserys sat still, watching the familiar black mist reappear before his eyes, his beautiful lilac eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a long breath.

Then, his gaze suddenly sharpened; it seemed as if the reflection of the fast-flying red comet in his dagger was gradually magnifying.

"Hmm?"

"What's going on?"

Viserys noticed the abnormalities a bit late, but his instincts warned him, and he abruptly turned his head.

Then, he witnessed the most spectacular sight of his life thus far.

Boom.

A massive roar erupted from the sky, like the loudest thunder in summer.

The red comet, trailing its long tail, finally broke through the atmosphere.

Then, it suddenly burst into intense light, transforming into a massive, blazing fireball.

The irregular sphere violently rubbed against the air, producing intense light and heat, continuously breaking through the clouds. It seemed as if the sky had been torn open, leaving a scar, and the shockwaves relentlessly spread in all directions, with the long tail reaching across the heavens.

Unchanged since ancient times.

Like a dagger falling from the sky, held tightly in an invisible giant hand, it mercilessly stabbed the earth.

Everyone was dumbfounded by the scene before them.

Viserys, gripping the dagger, clumsily rose from the ground, his mouth gaping wide enough to swallow an apple, as he gazed at the sky in shock.

The world became as bright as day in the instant the comet broke through the atmosphere.

Including Viserys, Oberyn, Ser Evin, the charred corpses lying in the woodpile prepared for cremation, and all the soldiers of Andalos, stared blankly at the sky, their cheeks illuminated by the intense light.

Then, in just a matter of seconds, the red light that pierced the heavens and earth finally slammed into the ground with a vengeance.

Boom.

The tremendous noise left everyone's minds blank, and then the entire world went silent.

"Get down!"

Viserys shouted for the soldiers to lie down, but no one could hear his voice anymore.

Even he couldn't hear his own voice, his desperate cries seemed like a silent performance.

Then, Viserys alone clumsily lay on the ground.

He didn't know how much time had passed.

A few seconds?

Or perhaps ten seconds, or even a minute?

But at that moment, everyone's minds were blank, in a daze.

Then, they faintly felt the overwhelming shockwave approaching, carrying dust, weeds, and branches, like a gaping maw, swallowing the entire Andalos army.

Everything was shrouded in dust, the howling wind raging in their ears. Viserys, having been the first to lie down, escaped any harm.

He didn't know how much time had passed.

Hum...

His ears finally began to hear sounds again, though his brain still buzzed.

Then, Viserys struggled to his feet, brushing off the thick layer of dust accumulated on his body.

He stood up and looked around at the surrounding landscape.

Everything seemed to have passed, leaving nothing but wreckage.

The wind was calm, and the clouds were light.

Except for the gaping hole in the sky.

...

Chapter 133: The Dragon

Perhaps the location of the fallen Red Comet wasn't too close.

The soldiers of the Andalos Legion seemed to have not suffered too much damage, and they soon began to pick themselves up from the ground.

"What on earth... happened?"

Some soldiers still looked somewhat dazed, as if they had not yet recovered from the recent explosion.

However, no one could give them the right answer.

Viserys' chest heaved slightly, as if he had been startled as well, and then he dusted himself off.

He was the first to fully regain his senses, but the calm eyes that were usually unruffled were also filled with intense shock and disbelief, unable to provide any explanation.

"The Red Comet actually fell?"

How could he have ever imagined that?

In his memory, this Red Comet should arrive in about seven or eight years, or even longer.

But not only has it arrived early, it didn't fly toward the legendary Shadow Lands, but instead fell suddenly by his side.

It was as if it was deliberately trying to crush him.

Should he apologize at this time, for being off-target?

Viserys' chest heaved, taking slightly labored breaths, appearing more composed than those around him, but in reality, his inner shock was even greater than theirs.

Because he knew the truth, he didn't understand why the Red Comet would arrive early, nor could he comprehend why it suddenly plunged down above his head.

Fortunately, the location where the Red Comet fell was an unknown distance away from the current location of the Andalos Legion.

Roughly judging by the direction, it should have fallen east of the Silverrun River, in the northeastern direction of their current position, at the edge of the Norvos Mountains.

As a result, the Andalos Legion did not suffer a devastating blow.

...

Taking a deep breath.

"Let's go check it out!"

Viserys made up his mind afterward.

Regardless, since he knew the importance of this Red Comet, and now that such a dramatic change had occurred, and he was so close, he had to go and see it for himself.

Only through bold attempts could he better unravel the mysteries in his heart, and understand what had happened in this situation.

Why the Red Comet arrived early, why it suddenly fell above his head, and... what exactly was this Red Comet.

He only remembered that this red comet, which spanned across two continents, ultimately fell into the Shadow Lands and disappeared without a trace, with no one knowing where it landed.

Or was it merely brushing past this planet, just making contact and then passing by?

"Your Majesty!"

"Are you alright?"

At this moment, his guards finally fully recovered from the recent explosion.

They hurriedly ran over to see if the young king had sustained any injuries.

However, they found that Viserys seemed to have recovered earlier than them, standing amidst the wreckage, lost in thought.

Viserys was distracted by the guards' voices, and then he looked at the guard's cheeks, nodding silently while trying to keep his voice calm.

"I'm fine."

He paused for a moment afterward. ...

"Order everyone to assess the damage, continue to clean up the battlefield, and rest on the spot."

"Tomorrow morning, we will visit the location where the falling star landed."

"Understood."

...

On the battlefield of Ghor, the red comet had fallen.

Meanwhile, in the city of Andaros.

The great fire of the early morning had finally been completely extinguished, and the guards stepped over the charred ruins to enter.

At this moment, everyone's mood was extremely heavy, as they believed that there could be no survivors left among the ruins.

Initially, there were four people trapped in the main castle, including three servants and Daenerys. In the end, Bessie rushed in to try to save his mother and Daenerys, but also lost contact.

However, perhaps it was the favor of the Seven Gods that their most loyal follower, the Andal warrior Bessie, seemed to have a faint breath when he was rescued.

He was then urgently treated by the medics, and is still in critical condition. His mother, unfortunately, was burned to death, as were the other two servants, all reduced to charred corpses.

At the same time, an astonishing event also occurred.

The guards searched the remaining ruins, hoping to find Daenerys' body. However, they found the sleeping girl under a collapsed ceiling in a narrow crevice.

Daenerys' clothes and all her hair, including her head, had been burned clean. Her smoke-stained, slightly blackened body was tightly curled up, and there were uneven tear stains on her cheeks.

She was sheltered by a fallen ceiling, which formed a safe zone, so she had not been harmed.

Next to the sleeping girl were three bizarre creatures the size of small dogs, covered with thin scales, with lizard-like heads, and wings instead of forelegs.

"What is this? Giant bats?"

The guards who found Princess Daenerys saw her lying naked among the ruins, seemingly alive, and beside her were three strange creatures they had never seen before. They immediately drew their swords to drive them away.

"Get away!"

However, these three dog-sized creatures showed no fear in the face of the sharp sword.

Instead, they angrily spread their wings and opened their mouths, letting out a warning roar at the soldiers, not allowing them to approach Daenerys even a little.

At this time.

Upon hearing that Daenerys had been found, Rhaenys and the maester rushed over.

They then stopped the soldiers' actions.

"Stop!"

Rhaenys ran over, pressed down the soldier's sword, and asked them to leave the area.

"Princess Rhaenys."

"Maester."

The soldiers were confused, fearing that these three unknown creatures might harm Rhaenys.

However, they obediently followed the order, moved away, and protected the center.

The brown-haired girl looked at the three little creatures with a mixture of shock and anxiety, swallowing nervously.

The maester who rushed over with her, Guntar, also stared wide-eyed at the three little creatures, his breathing becoming slightly rapid.

Unlike the Andaros soldiers, both he and Rhaenys recognized what these winged, scaled creatures were.

"Be careful, Your Grace."

However, the maester saw Rhaenys cautiously reach out her hand and couldn't help but warn her, his fist clenched with tension.

Hiss

A bronze-colored creature closest to Rhaenys saw her hand approaching, and immediately spread its wings and let out an angry hiss.

Chapter 134: Rhaegal

Hiss—

This bronze-colored little creature let out an angry hiss, spread its wings in an attacking posture, and protected Daenerys behind itself.

"Rhaegal..."

Rhaenys saw this scene and her throat rolled again, feeling a little scared. Her fingers paused in midair as she softly called its name.

Then she looked back at her teacher.

Maester Gunther's gaze towards the three little creatures was somewhat complicated, but he still nodded, encouraging Rhaenys to boldly try.

Immediately, the girl's dark eyes regained their determination, and she bit her lip, ignoring the little creature's warning, and reached out once more.

Hiss…

The bronze-colored little creature saw the detestable human in front of it daring to disregard its warning, and let out another angry hiss, like a combative rooster.

Opening its fang-filled mouth, it even 'puff' spewed a plume of black smoke.

Then, Rhaenys' fingers touched its nose.

Boop~

She gently poked it.

Nearly causing the little creature standing on Daenerys' thigh with spread wings to topple over, its body staggered slightly.

Huff, huff, huff...

Afterward, it flapped its wings desperately to regain its footing.

The bronze-colored little creature's nose was almost crooked with anger, and in an instant, its fury and body temperature skyrocketed.

It felt that its dignity as a sky ruler had been seriously challenged.

Hiss—

Roar~

Then, it opened its mouth wide, following its instinct, wanting to spew something out again.

However, at that moment, its nostrils twitched slightly, as if smelling something familiar and comforting.

Huh?

The little creature's attack halted, and its wide-open mouth closed again.

Then, it curiously sniffed its own nose.

Its anger seemed to dissipate unconsciously, leaving only a newborn's curiosity about this strange world.

It then brought its fierce head close to Rhaenys' finger, sniffing hard again, and even gently touched the girl's finger with its mouth.

This comforting familiarity intensified once more.

"Rhaegal..."

At this moment, Rhaenys' eyes were filled with tension as she took a deep breath and continued to softly call out.

She had just mustered the courage to touch the little creature, but now she somewhat regretted her impulsive action. After all, Rhaegal didn't understand human nature and couldn't speak. She was afraid that the little creature would suddenly become aggressive and bite off her finger.

However...

Gurgle—

An indescribable sound came from Rhaegal's long, fierce yet elegant neck.

Subsequently, the creature unexpectedly nuzzled its head into the girl's hand as if seeking her approval, like a little dog trying to please its master. The anger in its bronze-colored eyes softened.

"Rhaegal!"

The brown-haired girl's face immediately brightened with surprise and delight, for she knew that Rhaegal had accepted her.

Next, Rhaenys became bolder, taking the initiative to hold the little dragon in her arms, and this time Rhaegal did not resist.

However, instead of curling up in Rhaenys' embrace, it leapt onto the girl's shoulder, raising its head proudly and spreading its wings.

Rhaegal seemed to sense the Targaryen blood flowing in the girl, accepting Rhaenys.

The other two little creatures, possessing a high level of intelligence, understood that Rhaenys did not mean to harm their mother.

Soon after.

"Quick!"

"Be careful."

The girl remained kneeling on the ruins, her brown hair blowing in the wind, cautiously watching the green dragon on her shoulder.

The maester, seizing the opportunity, waved his hand, and the remaining soldiers approached, carrying away the still-unconscious Daenerys.

...

Soon enough.

The morning of the second day arrived.

The city, which had slept through the night, sprang back to life with renewed energy.

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a grid-shaped patch of light on the room's floor.

Due to the fire the previous day, the main castle of Andalos had been completely destroyed, and the ruins had not yet been cleared.

The two girls, now without a home, were forced to live in other rooms.

Servants hastily cleaned two vacant rooms in the castle, but Daenerys, for some unknown reason, remained unconscious and unresponsive.

The maester examined her personally but could not find any clues. The girl seemed to be sound asleep, but no matter how hard they tried, they could not wake her.

Subsequently, Rhaenys took matters into her own hands, washing away the soot and dirt from Daenerys' body.

Gently, she touched the girl's smooth, bald head.

To everyone's amazement and disbelief, Daenerys had not been harmed at all during her ordeal in the fire – only her hair had been burned away, leaving her body unscathed.

The three little dragons, though they had accepted Rhaenys, still refused to leave Daenerys' side.

However, Rhaenys thought they seemed more interested in playing in the water.

In the steamy room, the three little dragons repeatedly dove in and out of the water, splashing around and making a mess, much to Rhaenys' annoyance. In response, she tapped each of them on the head.

The dragons then jumped onto the edge of the tub and roared angrily at the brown-haired girl, as if they were arguing with her.

But after a day full of fright and worry, Rhaenys was too exhausted to engage in a proper squabble with them.

Daenerys' body, now clean, remained as fair and delicate as before, as if nothing had happened. She continued to sleep soundly, unaware of the calamity she had just endured.

It was nothing short of a miracle, and the red comet that had streaked across the sky at dusk seemed to confirm its occurrence.

Many soldiers who had seen Daenerys emerge unharmed from the fire believed the red comet had blessed the princess.

They thought it was the 'Maiden,' one of the Seven, who represented innocence and purity, and that she had sent her 'red messenger' to protect this innocent and pure girl.

However, this rumor However, this rumor did not last long. After the maester's reminder, Rhaenys quickly came to her senses.

She hastily issued orders throughout the night.

"The matter of the castle catching fire must be kept strictly confidential. No one is allowed to gossip about it."

"If I catch anyone..."

Rhaenys wanted to say something more threatening, but her kind nature prevented her from being as ruthless as Viserys.

"Hmph, I definitely won't let them off."

In the end, she didn't say these words out loud, but merely snorted softly.

"Furthermore, it is strictly forbidden to discuss this matter within the castle!"

"Do you understand?!"

"Yes, Your Highness, the Princess."

Following this, the castle strictly enforced a gag order, prohibiting any discussion or leakage of any details regarding this incident.

...

Chapter 135: Awakening

And now,

The brilliant morning sun penetrated the narrow window on the room's wall, shining brightly within.

The eventful night had finally passed.

Daenerys, who had been asleep for a whole day and night, finally woke up slowly at this moment.

The girl lay in bed, her long eyelashes quivering slightly, and then gradually opened her somewhat bewildered eyes. They were a pair of clear, bright violet eyes.

She then propped herself up on one hand, sitting up in bed. She felt a splitting headache, as if her head were about to crack open, and her throat was incredibly parched.

"What's going on?"

Daenerys' innocent little face was full of confusion. She could hardly remember what had happened the day before; her mind was now a blank slate.

All she could recall was waking up to find herself seemingly engulfed in a sea of fire, surrounded by roaring flames.

However, she didn't panic, because the scene before her was strikingly similar to a dream she once had.

In that dream, she saw a massive dragon covered in milky white scales, with golden horns, wing bones, and a crest.

Its eyes were like molten gold, and it opened its massive jaws to spew forth red-orange flames, with a faint golden light mixed within the blaze.

The fire burned her house, her castle, but she remained unharmed in her dream.

"Was it... just a dream after all?"

Daenerys rubbed her throbbing temples.

But since she could wake up, it meant that the sea of fire she saw upon opening her eyes was also just a dream.

However, the next second, her hand froze.

She suddenly realized that she was in a strange room.

This was not her familiar bedroom; aside from the brilliant sunlight streaming in through the window, everything else was unfamiliar. There was even a dusty smell in the air, as if it were a storage room that hadn't been inhabited in a long time.

At the same time, Daenerys discovered that her usual companion, the dragon egg 'Viserion,' which she would always hold while sleeping, was gone.

Her dragon egg was lost?

And where was she now?

The girl was slightly panicked, and fear crept up her spine. Daenerys was not very brave, but she valued this dragon egg very much because it represented her brother. She quickly threw off her blanket, intending to search for it.

But her sudden movement disturbed the sleeping girl beside her.

"Hmm?"

It was only then that Daenerys noticed that Rhaenys was sleeping right behind her.

She had just woken up from her dream of the great fire and was still in pain, so she hadn't noticed that Rhaenys was sleeping behind her, with one snow-white leg exposed and the blanket wrapped around her.

"Hey, Dany?"

"You're awake?!"

Rhaenys rubbed her still-groggy eyes and saw that Daenerys was already sitting up, seemingly anxiously looking for something.

Her sleepiness disappeared instantly, and she widened her beautiful eyes, climbing out of bed with excitement.

Since Daenerys had been found and rescued yesterday, she had been unconscious. Although her breathing and heartbeat had always been stable, the maester's diagnosis concluded that the princess had no issues.

It was indeed a miracle.

As for why she was still unconscious, the maester was puzzled and couldn't provide an answer.

However, he said that if the princess did not wake up, he would personally travel back to the Citadel to consult his teacher and ask the Grand Maester of the Citadel, the holder of the Silver Staff, Dr. Ambrose, to make the journey.

...

However, Daenerys had now woken up, so there was no need for Maester Gunthor to make a personal trip to Westeros.

Rhaenys was overjoyed and didn't care about her own disheveled appearance without any clothes on, she directly opened her arms and hugged Daenerys tightly.

But Rhaenys' joy seemed like naked mockery in the eyes of the little girl. Daenerys had not yet figured out her situation, but seeing Rhaenys by her side made her feel slightly relieved.

Then she instantly reacted, subconsciously feeling that she had woken up suddenly in this room, and it must be Rhaenys who was up to some mischief again.

Rhaenys wasn't much older than Daenerys.

Although she always played a role similar to a 'mother' or 'older sister', helping Daenerys grow up, Rhaenys was actually still a young girl herself.

Innocent and lively.

Her personality was much more spirited than the shy and introverted Daenerys, and she would occasionally come up with some little tricks to tease Daenerys, always getting herself reported to her brother, Viserys, for support.

But with her brother gone for so long this time, the mischievous Rhaenys had started teasing her again.

"Rhaenys!"

"Where did you hide my 'Viserion'?"

The girl's face reddened a bit, her usual shyness and introversion swept away in that moment, angrily demanding Rhaenys to return her dragon egg.

She believed Rhaenys had always been scheming to get her dragon egg, and now she had suddenly appeared here, and the dragon egg had disappeared - it must be Rhaenys teasing her again.

Pushed away by Daenerys, Rhaenys sat on the bed with her pretty cheeks still covered in tears and a line of snot, her white legs stretched out, blinking and stunned for a moment before making a sound.

"Huh?"

At first, she didn't quite grasp what Daenerys was trying to express.

She seemed... very angry?

However, the brown-haired girl was smart, and after a moment of pondering, she understood what Daenerys was trying to say.

"Hahaha..."

Rhaenys grabbed Daenerys' shoulders, laughing so hard she was almost doubling over, the tears and snot from her previous crying now falling off from laughter.

Seeing Rhaenys still laughing, Daenerys became even angrier.

"Hmph, you! I'm going to beat you up!"

Then the little girl pushed Rhaenys, who was laughing so hard her stomach hurt, and pounced on her, wanting to fight the mischievous Rhaenys.

"Hahaha..."

But Rhaenys, seeing Daenerys getting angry, didn't resist and rolled around the bed laughing, twisting her body, trying her best to dodge Daenerys' relentless attack.

However, the girls' playful fight disturbed the guests resting under the bed.

Then.

Hiss~

A raspy roar suddenly rang out in the room, right in the midst of the girls' playful noise.

The girl who was fighting with Rhaenys heard the roar very clearly, her angry expression momentarily frozen, her small hand stopping mid-air.

"What was that sound?"

She thought it sounded familiar, and it seemed to come from a place not far from her ear.

Then, Daenerys turned her head.

Chapter 136: Balerion

Daenerys then saw a little creature covered in milky white scales standing by her bedside.

Its eyes glowed like molten gold, tilting its head as it gazed at the girl before it, its eyes filled with kindness.

Whoosh~

It then spread its wings, fluttered twice, and landed on Daenerys' shoulder with difficulty.

"Ah!"

Daenerys was startled by its sudden flight and let out a soft cry of surprise. However, she didn't know why she didn't dodge it, allowing the little creature to settle on her shoulder.

Its sharp claws gripped the girl's shoulder, but without force, as if it was afraid of scratching her delicate skin.

"It... What is it?"

Daenerys was taken aback, covering her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide with curiosity as she looked at the small creature resting on her shoulder.

For some reason, a strong sense of closeness rapidly took root in her heart.

The girl was only six years old, and she had never thought about what it would feel like to be a mother. But at that moment, she suddenly had a strong desire to love and cherish the little creature before her eyes.

Was it... like her own child?

Daenerys was shocked by this bold thought in her mind, gently covering her mouth with one hand.

Meanwhile, Rhaenys, who had just been playfully wrestling with Daenerys and was slightly out of breath, sat up from the bed.

Although she had seen them last night, she was still amazed by the violent beauty of the three little creatures when she woke up and saw them again this morning.

"It's a dragon."

"Daenerys."

Rhaenys tried to calm her heart after their playful scuffle.

She then looked at Daenerys' bald head and hairless cheeks, smiled gently, and spoke in a calm and serious tone.

"It's your Balerion."

"Pfft... Hahaha..."

"I'm sorry, Dany, I didn't mean to."

Rhaenys couldn't hold back any longer, once again covering her stomach and bursting into laughter.

Thump thump thump—

She pounded the bed with one hand, laughing so hard that her stomach hurt.

Although she hadn't undergone strict training, she had tried to maintain a serious demeanor just moments before.

However, Daenerys' bald head and lack of eyebrows made her look like a cute, nose-and-eyes-bearing meatball, and Rhaenys couldn't help but laugh.

Daenerys didn't know what had gotten into Rhaenys, who seemed to be acting like a madwoman, but she had no time to worry about it now because all her attention was focused on the first thing Rhaenys had said.

"It's a dragon."

It's... a dragon?

A dragon?

The girl covered her mouth, her eyes widening as she stared at the little creature perched on her shoulder, her purple eyes growing round.

.

The small creature perched on her shoulder had milky-white scales all over its body, reflecting a beautiful gleam like crystal-clear glaze under the sunlight.

Its horns, wing bones, and crest were golden. Opening its mouth towards Daenerys, it let out a soft roar, revealing its sharp teeth.

Perhaps because it had just been born, the little creature's vocal cords were not yet fully developed, and the roar it made was somewhat unpleasant, hoarse and obscure, similar to the sound made by a snake.

However, Viserion, though roaring, showed strong affection towards Daenerys. The girl's reflection could be seen in its shimmering golden eyes.

The main keep of Dragonstone Castle was used as the royal bedroom, where the bedrooms of Viserys, Rhaenys, and Daenerys, the Targaryen members, were located.

Viserys, being on a distant campaign, naturally did not carry his black dragon egg with him; instead, it was stored in a chest in his room.

Rhaenys had given up trying to hatch her egg early on, as Viserys had said that these dragon eggs were ancient relics from a long-forgotten era, already fossilized over countless years, and might not be able to hatch dragons.

After several attempts, Rhaenys gave up and let her black cat play with the egg, not bothering with it afterward.

Only Daenerys never gave up, persistently trying to hatch her own dragon egg.

Thus, all three dragon eggs were stored in the main keep of Dragonstone Castle, and then all were hatched in the great fire.

As Daenerys was the first person they saw upon hatching, and her pure Targaryen bloodline naturally drew the dragons closer, they regarded her as their mother.

Yet Rhaenys, too, had Targaryen blood, and had gained the approval of the green dragon, Rhaegal.

Moreover, among the hatched dragonlings, there was not only the green dragon Rhaegal and the white dragon Viserion, but also the black dragon egg that had belonged to Viserys and had attracted much attention.

It was named Balerion by Viserys, meaning 'Black Death,' also signifying a god and a cat in Valyrian civilization.

At this moment, Balerion was lying atop a cabinet by the wall, disdainful of seeking favor from anyone. Its cold, crimson eyes watched the two girls playing below, as well as its two siblings.

Then, it opened its mouth wide, letting out a deep, terrifying growl.

"Roar—"

The black dragon roared.

Splash...

The two young dragons immediately cowered, their whole bodies trembling slightly in fear, seemingly expressing submission.

Balerion's body was covered in thick black scales, with red light seeping through the gaps, resembling flowing lava. It flickered with each heavy breath.

Its dragon horns, wing bones, and crest were golden, and its body was adorned with intricate golden runes.

Despite having just hatched from its egg, the black dragon was already over three times the size of its siblings, as large as a small lamb.

"How did it get so big?"

Upon seeing Balerion lying on top of the cabinet, Rhaenys' eyes widened in disbelief.

When it had first hatched yesterday, Balerion was indeed larger than the other two, but it was still only the size of a small dog.

Yet now, Balerion had inflated like a balloon overnight, rapidly expanding to such a size. How could Rhaenys not be astonished?

"Rhaegal."

The brown-haired girl then looked down at the green dragon Rhaegal, which had just stumbled and flapped into her arms.

Although Rhaegal seemed to have grown a bit, it was still not much bigger than a puppy.

"What is going on?" .

Chapter 137: The Legion

Rhaenys' question was soon answered.

The maid in charge of the kitchen hurried over, informing the princess who was now overseeing the affairs of the castle that the kitchen had been burglarized the night before.

The burglar seemed to be extremely hungry, devouring a significant amount of food stored in the kitchen, and not shying away from eating raw, hot or cold dishes.

As the maid relayed this information, the proud black dragon, Balerion, lying atop the cupboard, inexplicably turned its head.

Then the fierce head burrowed beneath its wings, scratching slightly, as if scratching an itch. It soon pulled its head back out.

Unflinching.

Both Princess Rhaenys and Daenerys had already dressed themselves. Daenerys finally realized that her hair and eyebrows had been burned off, causing her to feel a social death and a sense of disbelief.

Although the young girl was still young, she was conscious of her appearance. She adamantly insisted on locking herself in her room until her hair and eyebrows grew back.

Now, Daenerys wore a wide-brimmed hat, with a white veil encircling it. She could see out from within, but it was difficult for others to make out her facial features.

The two girls were sitting on the bed, listening to the tense report from the kitchen maid, exchanging glances and looking at each other.

"This..."

Due to yesterday's fire, everyone's nerves were on edge, fearing another accident.

Hence, the kitchen maid hastily came to report to the princess. Judging by the terrifying amount of food consumed, if a burglar this voracious had entered the castle and was hiding somewhere, it could have serious consequences.

"A burglar?"

"Stealing food?"

"Eating raw without reservation?"

The two princesses listened to the maid's report, exchanged glances, and then both looked up at Balerion lying on top of the cupboard.

The black dragon's expression seemed somewhat unnatural, as if it could understand human speech. It then adjusted its reclining position, staring blankly at a spot on the ceiling.

The room fell silent for a while.

"No wonder my brother's dragon grew so big."

Daenerys looked at Balerion and blinked before finally whispering.

"So it's been stealing food."

Balerion was more than three times the size of Viserion and Rhaegal.

This exaggerated size difference made the other two young dragons somewhat tremble in fear when faced with their big brother, not daring to look directly into its crimson eyes, let alone lie beside it or play with Balerion.

"But... even if it's been stealing food, it shouldn't have grown so big, right?"

Rhaenys, hearing Daenerys' whisper, couldn't help but speak out.

Then she looked down at her own Rhaegal, who appeared like a malnourished puppy, feeling somewhat wronged.

"The gap is too big."

"Did Rhaegal not eat enough yesterday?"

Yesterday, the three young dragons had just hatched, and Rhaenys had asked the kitchen to prepare plenty of beef and mutton for them, fearing they wouldn't be full.

Although these little creatures had just been born, their appetite and teeth were surprisingly good. However, limited by their size, they couldn't eat more even if they wanted to, as they didn't have such a large stomach.

...

In the end, as the two girls rested, the three baby dragons also fell asleep beneath their beds.

However, later on, Balerion somehow managed to sneak out in the middle of the night to feast without making a sound, and he did not bring his two younger brothers with him.

Though the suspected culprit was right in front of her, Rhaenys remained cautious and ordered a quick inspection of the entire castle, instructing the maidservants that there was no need to lock the kitchen door at night anymore.

She was afraid that if Balerion couldn't open the door, he might tear the house apart.

...

While a great fire brought disaster, it also gave birth to blessings.

Andaros witnessed the birth of three baby dragons.

Meanwhile, far away in the ruined city-state of Ghoyan Drohe,

After a night's rest, the Andaros army packed up once more, preparing to break camp and embark on a new day's journey.

"How are the supplies?"

At present, the army's officers were busy writing on paper, while the soldiers below reported on various tasks in a cacophony of voices.

"Where are the people sent to gather resources?"

The tent was filled with noise, reminiscent of a small-town marketplace.

The Andaros army was somewhat different from other city-states or noble armies.

Though the differences were minute and seemingly insignificant, many unique ideas had been silently integrated into their structure.

Firstly, the officers in the army were highly specialized and organized, and their management approach was meticulous without being unwieldy. A large number of positions and ranks allowed soldiers to advance in the ranks, making them more courageous and willing to fight.

Secondly, the division of responsibilities was improved, minimizing conflicts of authority and territory to prevent finger-pointing and blame-shifting.

The person in charge of equipment handled logistics, while the one responsible for food managed meals. Any issues could be directly traced to the person in charge of the respective task.

This was the impact of Viserys.

For example, during the last battle, a significant problem arose with the placement of the caltrops. The Dothraki easily broke through the caltrop lines using ropes, directly infiltrating the front lines and causing heavy casualties.

In the end, after the battle was over,

Viserys, who had fought all day, continued to work late into the night, handling military affairs by lamplight. He discovered the reason for the issue with the caltrops.

It turned out that his messenger had not accurately relayed his orders, neglecting to inform the officers and soldiers responsible for placing the caltrops to bury them in the ground to prevent them from being pulled away with ropes.

An inability to accurately relay a commander's orders within the army was a grave offense, particularly when it led to severe losses on the battlefield. Viserys had no choice but to execute the messenger, making an example of him in front of the entire army as a warning not to be negligent in times of war.

Though Viserys was not skilled in training soldiers, a task Oberyn had always handled, his leadership brought order to the army, significantly increasing its operational efficiency. Combined with Oberyn's training, this resulted in a powerful force.

Subsequently,

The entire Andaros army, under this highly efficient operational model, saved as much time as possible, quickly packing up and dismantling their camp.

Following the direction of their king's sword, they set out towards the location where the red comet had fallen.

...

Chapter 138: The Fallen Star

The red comet that had fallen from the sky last night was not too far from the battlefield of Gormon Dohaeris, nor was it far from the encampment of the Andalos Legion.

As a result, it seemed as if it had crashed right overhead, and the terrifying aftershock of the comet's fall had affected the legion.

Although the impact was not severe, only a few unlucky soldiers were injured, and one was seriously wounded. The vast majority of the soldiers, like Viserys, remained unharmed, but they were left covered in dust and dirt, looking quite disheveled.

Afterward.

It took half a day of travel for the Andalos Legion to cross the fork where the Upper Rhoyne River and the Little Rhoyne River met. They arrived on the plains east of the Upper Rhoyne River, where they could faintly see the rolling mountains in the distance.

That was one of the few massive mountain ranges in the continent of Essos, known as the Norvos Mountains. The city-state of Norvos, one of the Nine Free Cities, was hidden within these vast, seemingly endless mountains. Winding roads traversed through the mountains, leading to the fog-shrouded distance.

Due to its unique terrain, the region was notorious for bandits, outlaws, and various brotherhoods. The surrounding city-states had repeatedly sent armies to suppress them, but without success. Instead, the bandits had banded together, using the terrain to their advantage, and sent the city-states' armies fleeing in disgrace.

And now.

Although still far away, Viserys, surrounded by the legion's soldiers, could already see where the red comet had fallen the night before.

"It's right there..."

Others around him noticed as well, the sight unmissable. Thick smoke billowed into the sky, engulfing the heavens and filling the air with the acrid smell of charred wood.

cough cough

As the legion soldiers approached the area, they couldn't help but cover their mouths and noses, succumbing to violent coughing fits.

After defeating the Dothraki the day before, they had set a massive fire, and although they were not severely affected by the flames, the choking smoke brought tears to their eyes and snot to their noses. They hadn't expected to endure such torment after leaving the battlefield of Gormon Dohaeris and coming here.

Last night.

The red comet transformed into a colossal fireball, piercing through the atmosphere and ultimately crashing into the Norvos Mountains. The impact quickly ignited a raging wildfire.

The mountains were dense with forests and overgrown with weeds, and the strong winds provided the perfect conditions for the flames to spread. The birth of such a calamity was almost impossible to halt with human effort alone. They could only pray for the gods' mercy to bring rain and quench the inferno.

Although they had seen the billowing smoke from a distance, by the time the Andalos Legion arrived at the foot of the Norvos Mountains, it was already dusk.

At dusk, the wind direction changed slightly, blowing toward the northwest, giving the soldiers, who had been suffocating, a brief respite.

They also had the chance to approach closer, witnessing firsthand the terrifying wildfire that swept through the entire mountain. The fire illuminated the sky, making it difficult to distinguish between day and night.

At the same time, the flames continued to spread to nearby mountains, creating an unstoppable situation.

"It's horrifying."

Gazing upon this terrifying scene, everyone felt their throats go dry, swallowing hard.

Such a catastrophe was not something that could be changed by human effort alone. .

"Merciful Mother, I pray for you to send your holy waters to extinguish this wildfire."

In the Andalos army, some soldiers quietly began to make prayer gestures, eventually touching their foreheads with their fingertips, praying in silence.

At the same time, the Rhoynar soldiers were also praying to the spirits of the mountains, rivers, and other natural forces to stop this disaster.

Viserys observed all of this but said nothing, for when he chose to wield religion as a double-edged sword, he knew it would bind him tightly.

However, at the moment, the benefits still outweighed the risks. Viserys' heart was like a clear mirror, fully aware of what he was doing and how to make choices.

But he did not want to sever ties with religion just yet.

Now, the most pressing issue for Andalos was the matter of national unity. How could he, like the Seven Kingdoms, fully integrate the Andals, Rhoynar, and other peoples together?

...

When the Andalos army arrived at the foot of the Norvos mountains, they discovered that a merchant caravan had already arrived before them.

Seeing the endless army approaching from the end of the road, everyone in the caravan seemed very nervous.

The caravan leader's face was pale, and the guards with a strong smell of blood on them tensely drew their swords.

However, the caravan leader quickly scolded them, as confronting a regular army head-on was a suicidal act.

But they traveled this trade route from Pentos to Norvos regularly and wondered which army this could be and why they had suddenly appeared here.

Norvos? Or Pentos' army?

The Norvoshi army consisted of bearded monks wielding battle axes and "marrying" their long-handled axes through religious ceremonies.

This army was clearly not made up of bearded monks.

As for Pentos... their army was only barely enough to maintain the city's defenses, let alone send out such a large force.

"Damn!"

"They must be after R'hllor's gift too!"

The caravan leader was a burly man with a fierce gaze and a long knife at his waist.

As soon as his words fell, the caravan erupted in commotion.

"No way!"

"This is the gift given to us by the Lord of Light!"

"Let's run away!"

"Run?"

"It's too late to run now."

As they argued, two cavalry units had already emerged from the sides of the army ahead, having noticed them and closing in.

There was no escape, unless they fled up the mountain and into the inferno.

Everyone in the caravan was a fanatical follower of the Lord of Light, R'hllor. They had seen the red comet last night and believed it was the "sword that slashes the long night," a gift from the Lord of Light.

Among the followers of R'hllor, there was a prophecy almost everyone knew: the long night would come, and a hero would pull a flaming sword from the fire, the "Lightbringer."

This prophecy had been passed down for an unknown amount of time, but the long night had not yet come, and there were countless "Lightbringers."

Performing the flaming sword trick was not difficult.

However, this time, the caravan leader took it very seriously.

Chapter 139: Bandits

Even with just the slightest thought, he knew that this object that had fallen from the sky would be of immense value.

It was said that across the Narrow Sea in Westeros, there was a city called Starfall, named so because a meteor had once fallen from the sky there.

At the same time, the meteorite iron that had fallen was forged into a weapon that was in no way inferior to Valyrian steel, the legendary sword 'Dawn.'

Faced with an opportunity that would make anyone dare to suffer a thousand cuts, the leader of the merchant caravan was unwilling to give up so easily.

And since they couldn't escape...

The man's breathing grew somewhat heavy, and he licked his chapped lips.

…

Not long after.

Andaros' army finally arrived in front of the merchant caravan.

Meanwhile, the light cavalry had already encircled them.

"Stay put!"

The caravan guards were herded together by the cavalry's spears as if they were rabbits.

Viserys sat on his horse wearing simple clothes, his head adorned with a glittering golden crown, holding the reins with one hand, and glanced at the merchant caravan not far away, which was now completely surrounded. His eyes narrowed slightly, just as he was about to speak.

At that moment.

"Honorable Targaryen, great King of the Seven Kingdoms."

A man, who seemed to be the leader of the merchant caravan, dressed even more lavishly than Viserys, with a stout body and wide waist, came forward to greet them.

He saw the banner of Andaros' army and the three-headed dragon sigil on Viserys' chest.

Although the news of Andaros' army's victory against Khal Drogo in the Battle of Geth hadn't spread yet.

However, the names of Andaros and Viserys had already become well-known in this region. The young king, now surrounded by countless knights and warriors like stars surrounding the moon, was easily recognizable.

Fresh from a recent battle, the soldiers of Andaros exuded a strong, bloody scent and an aura of ruthlessness. Their eyes were different from those of ordinary people.

Many of the caravan guards, who appeared fierce, were frightened by the cold gaze of these soldiers, and their scalps tingled. They quickly lowered their heads, meek as little rabbits.

"We are a legitimate merchant caravan under the protection of Norvos."

"What is the matter that you have stopped us?"

The leader of the merchant caravan came before Viserys' mount and slightly bowed, speaking neither humbly nor arrogantly, looking up.

"A caravan protected by Norvos."

"So impressive?"

Viserys pulled at his warhorse, its hooves stopping just in front of the leader. He then studied the confident-looking caravan leader for a while without saying a word.

Prince Oberyn of Dorne also examined this uninvited guest up and down, seemingly discovering something. He then whispered a few words into Viserys' ear.

"Hmm?"

Viserys turned to look at Oberyn, then turned his gaze back.

The caravan leader, standing in front of Viserys' warhorse, appeared calm on the surface, but was quite nervous inside.

He then heard the calm voice of the young king above him.

"Take them all."

With Viserys' command.

Whoosh—

The battle-hardened Andaros soldiers on both sides, without any hesitation, immediately moved to apprehend the entire merchant caravan upon hearing Viserys' order to apprehend them. They acted like hungry wolves, eager to take control of everyone in the caravan.

Among them, the smarter ones immediately threw their weapons to the ground.

Clang, clang...

Without any resistance, they raised their hands and were roughly tied up by the swarm of soldiers who forced them to kneel on the ground.

As for those who reacted slowly, didn't drop their weapons quickly enough, or fanatic followers of R'hllor who wanted to put up a fight, they were killed on the spot by Andaros soldiers.

Swish, swish, swish—

Sharp swords effortlessly sliced through necks, and heads rolled onto the ground.

The sudden turn of events caught many off guard.

"You bunch of bandits!"

"The Lord of Light will bring divine punishment upon you heretics!"

Amidst the chaos, one of the disguised R'hllor followers, who had been masquerading as a guard for the merchant caravan, no longer hid his true allegiance.

He had just injured a soldier's arm but was then stabbed repeatedly, knowing he wouldn't survive, he let out a desperate roar.

Thud...

An Andaros soldier then beheaded him from behind.

The captured R'hllor followers, who had given up resistance, turned pale upon hearing his desperate roar.

The leader of this group, disguised as the merchant caravan leader, was also captured and bound, kneeling on the ground with a terrible look on his face.

He knew his cover was blown.

However, he didn't know how his disguise was discovered.

Did the famed young king, who had supposedly fled from Westeros to Essos since childhood, see through his ruse with just a glance?

"I've heard rumors of a Brotherhood of R'hllor followers roaming this trade route."

"I didn't expect to encounter them today."

Viserys remained seated on his horse, watching as the disguised Brotherhood members were captured and heads rolled without even blinking.

In reality, Viserys hadn't noticed any clues.

However, Oberyn, having once been a mercenary traveling through Essos, was familiar with various underhanded tactics.

He seemed to have noticed something amiss and quietly alerted Viserys.

But even without Oberyn's warning, Viserys wouldn't have let these people leave easily.

Although the wildfire still raged on the mountain and spread rapidly, Viserys estimated that the fire at the meteor's crash site had died down.

The biggest obstacle was the suffocating white smoke, but overcoming that was manageable.

Viserys was most concerned about the secrets of the Red Comet being discovered by someone else.

Preserving the meteor crash site and determining if the Red Comet had a close connection to magic was crucial for him.

"Your Grace, this is a misunderstanding."

"We are a legitimate merchant caravan, not members of any Brotherhood."

The leader of the Brotherhood tried to argue further.

However, Viserys waved his hand dismissively, not bothering to engage with the petty arguments of a minor figure. Even if they were a Norvoshi-protected caravan, he had resolved to plunder them today. He ordered his soldiers to search the caravan.

Crash—

The cargo from the merchant wagons was scattered across the ground. Although the cargo appeared ordinary, a closer inspection revealed traces of sword slashes and bloodstains.

It seemed that this Brotherhood had just plundered another caravan, killing everyone and taking their cargo.

At this moment, one soldier seemed to have found something.

"Your Grace."

He approached, cradling a somewhat heavy wooden box in his arms.

Chapter 140: Heart of the Star

"Hmm?"

Viserys then took the slightly heavy wooden box from the soldier's hands.

Creak...

He opened the lid of the box and saw a dark red stone inside, like congealed blood, lying still.

"What is this?"

Viserys' eyes narrowed slightly, feeling an instinctive sense of unease upon seeing the object.

He then looked up at the captured Brotherhood leader, whose face turned ashen as he saw that Viserys had found the box.

This was what they had risked their lives for, losing several brothers to search through the wreckage of the fallen Red Comet.

It appeared to be the core of the Red Comet, still emitting a strong red glow and possessing an alarming heat on its surface when they first found it.

The followers of the Lord of Light endured the smoky, fiery environment for a long time as the 'stone's' surface gradually cooled down, which had caused a significant delay.

They then placed the Heart of the Star into the wooden box and had just brought it down the mountain when they encountered the Andalos army, who had arrived early as well.

The Andalos forces also spotted them and sent two teams of light cavalry to encircle them from both sides. By that time, it was already too late for them to escape with the 'stone.'

In the end, these desperate men could only brace themselves to confront Viserys, hoping to either take him hostage or deceive him and escape with the Heart of the Star to sell for a good price.

However, their audacious plan was foiled before it could even begin, and they were apprehended on the spot.

"Did you find this inside?"

Viserys sat on his horse, one hand holding the heavy wooden box, but he did not hastily reach out to touch the seemingly eerie object.

He then turned his head to address the Brotherhood leader who was now bound and kneeling on the ground.

"Yes... yes, Your Majesty."

At this point, the bandit leader no longer wished to keep the treasure, only wanting to survive. He bowed his head and pleaded, hoping Viserys would spare his life.

But Viserys merely squinted his eyes, not immediately agreeing to their request.

He then looked up at the thick smoke in the sky. Although the wind was blowing in the opposite direction and the smoke wasn't spreading toward them, they still couldn't see what the Red Comet's crash site looked like.

"Seal off this area completely; no one is allowed to approach."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The guards beside him acknowledged the order, and it was quickly passed down.

The long line of troops began to spread out, surrounding the road leading to the site of the Red Comet's crash.

"Find a few more men, including him."

Viserys then pointed at the Brotherhood leader who worshipped the Lord of Light.

"Let's go up and check if there's anything else."

"Understood!"

Next, soldiers stepped forward to unlock the chains on the captive's feet and released several other prisoners.

Dozens of Andalos soldiers covered their mouths and noses with wet, coarse cloth, following the captives into the thick smoke, gradually disappearing from sight.

A wildfire wouldn't be extinguished in a day or two, and Viserys couldn't wait here until it was put out.

Sitting on his horse, Viserys gazed up at the gloomy sky above, with the setting sun far away gradually approaching the horizon.

Nightfall would soon arrive.

Moreover, this was no place to linger. If the wind changed direction, the Andalos army at the foot of the mountain could be in grave danger.

...

The evening breeze was cool as Viserys ordered the main army to retreat, leaving only a few dozen cavalrymen to follow quietly at his side.

Then, Viserys glanced at the dark red 'stone' placed in a wooden box and reached out to take it from the box.

The stone had a cold touch, and Viserys shivered slightly when he first came into contact with it.

"So cold?"

The young king's face showed surprise, as he had not expected the fiery red 'stone' to feel so icy cold to the touch.

"Could this be the core of the red comet?"

Viserys knew that when a meteorite fell from outer space, the intense friction with the atmosphere generated an extremely high temperature, burning away the impurities on the meteorite's surface and leaving only the hardest stony, metallic, or some unknown special material. In the short process of falling, it was as if the meteorite had been tempered a thousand times before it reached the ground.

Then, Viserys applied a little force with his fingers.

An icy chill penetrated his mind through his fingers, making him shiver as if he were holding a solid block of ice.

And indeed, there were no traces on the surface of the 'stone'.

"This doesn't look like a stone, but rather like a meteoric iron."

"Take a look."

Viserys looked a few more times, then handed the heart of the red comet's star to Oberyn, who sat on horseback beside him.

The Prince of Dorne was well-traveled and knowledgeable, and it was he who had just noticed that these people disguised as merchants were no good, so he advised Viserys to capture them.

Oberyn did not refuse, taking the stone from Viserys's hand, and he too shivered slightly.

"This thing is so cold."

He weighed it in his hand.

"You're right, this weight and feel don't seem like a stone, but rather a meteoric iron."

Then Oberyn looked up at the young king wearing a crown and spoke.

"The Dayne family of Starfall, as one of the oldest families on the continent of Westeros, can trace their history back to the Dawn Age, ten thousand years ago."

"It is said that the first Dayne followed a fallen star to a small island at the mouth of the Torrentine River, where he found a magical heart of a star and built a castle, which is now Starfall."

"The ancestral weapon of House Dayne, 'Dawn', is said to have been forged from this heart of a star."

"Congratulations, Viserys."

Oberyn pulled on the reins and returned the heart of the star to Viserys.

"You may soon have a weapon that rivals Valyrian steel."

"Really?"

Viserys took back the heart of the star, but his expression did not reveal much excitement.

"It's just...given its size, at most it can only be forged into a longsword."

The heart of the red comet's star wasn't very large, and perhaps when melted, it could only forge a longsword, not even a greatsword.

And at that moment, noisy sounds came from the distance, and it seemed that a troop was rushing over the horizon.

However, they had already seen the Andalos Legion stationed here and cautiously stopped in their tracks.

Chapter 141: Return

"More visitors?"

"This place is truly bustling."

Viserys noticed the commotion in the distance and placed the Heart of Stars back into the wooden box, handing it to the guard beside him.

At this moment, the army halted, and the soldiers responsible for scouting and guarding the nearby area quickly rode back to report.

"Your Majesty."

"It's the bearded monk soldiers from Norvos."

It turned out that the commotion caused by the falling star last night was too great. Not only was the Andalosian army nearby, but many others had taken notice as well.

Even the defeated Dothraki had regrouped.

One of Drogo's former Khalasar leaders, Jakko, had defeated the remaining Khals and become the new Khal, consolidating the remnants of Drogo's forces.

He first subdued his bloodriders, then saw the red comet in the sky.

To rally the people, Jakko dubbed the red comet "Shirak Qoyi" in the Dothraki language, meaning "The Weeping Blood Star."

It symbolized the great Khal Drogo ascending to the heavens in flames, riding fiery steeds across the sky, and that they would eventually avenge him.

Jakko then pointed to the Weeping Blood Star in the sky and swore that one day he would kill the iron-clad cowards, burn their stone houses, and then...

And then the Weeping Blood Star fell from the sky.

...

In addition to the victorious Andalosian Legion and the retreating Dothraki.

In distant Norvos.

A high monk residing atop the Sinner's Steps had prophesized that a star would fall that night, and it would be the "Star of Karmic Obstruction." If not stopped, it would bring a terrible disaster to Norvos.

Immediately, the ancient bells of Num, Nara, and Nael were struck, and the monk's warning echoed throughout the city-state with the resounding chimes.

As a result, the Norvoshi Council of Magisters did not dare to delay and swiftly dispatched a 2,000-strong force to search for the prophesized fallen star.

After a day and night of searching, the monk soldiers finally found the true location of the red comet's fall and learned what the disaster foretold by the high monk in the temple was: this bright-as-day wildfire was the most terrifying disaster.

However, someone had already claimed the site.

"We're late. Who are they?"

Due to the significant difference in numbers, the Norvoshi army did not dare to approach and could only watch from a distance for the time being.

Then, they sent an envoy to negotiate.

Clip-clop-clip...

A bald Norvoshi monk soldier with a long beard and wielding a long axe rode up to Viserys.

He dismounted, laid his weapon aside, and respectfully pressed his palms together, bowing slightly.

"Honorable Andalosian lord."

The messenger soon clarified their intentions, assuring them that they bore no ill will. They merely wished to investigate the site of the comet's fall and extinguish the wildfire, hoping that the Andalos Legion could assist them.

They were willing to offer a generous reward to the ruler of Andalos.

Norvos, nestled among the mountains, would face irreversible consequences if the wildfire could not be controlled and no rain fell in the meantime.

Viserys didn't hesitate for long upon hearing the Norvoshi messenger's request. He nodded in agreement, commanding his soldiers to help extinguish the fire.

After all, this was a natural disaster, and if the fire continued to spread, it would do no good for Andalos, located downwind.

A massive firefighting operation ensued, and the soldiers who ventured into the mountains soon returned unharmed. However, all the captives brought in seemed to have vanished.

The soldiers reported to Viserys that the comet's landing site was a huge, deep pit. Inside the pit were only ruins and scorched trees, with nothing else of value.

Several captives, whose shackles had been removed, seized the opportunity to stage a revolt. Armed with ropes, they attempted to take weapons but were discovered by the alert soldiers. These soldiers were among the most agile in the army.

The captives were swiftly killed by the soldiers, and the leader of the Brotherhood was impaled by a sword through his chest, falling into a fire pit below a steep slope. He was presumably dead.

The soldiers didn't dare pursue, taking advantage of the favorable wind direction and minimal smoke to return to the base of the mountain.

"Are they dead?"

Viserys listened to the soldiers' report and nodded indifferently.

The lives and deaths of a few bandits meant little to him. If they were dead, they deserved it, and if they escaped, it was no big deal.

...

Soon enough, a night had passed.

After a night of firefighting, the flames at the comet's crash site were completely extinguished.

Viserys, wearing a cloak and covering his mouth and nose with a damp cloth, ventured into the meteor crater. Beneath his feet lay soft, charred earth and the ruins left by the fallen meteor.

It seemed that apart from the Heart of the Fallen Star, there was nothing else of value here.

"Thank you very much for your generous help," the bearded monk following Viserys said, bringing his hands together in gratitude.

"But now... we can only pray for the heavens to have mercy and bring a heavy rain."

This morning, Norvos sent a few thousand more people to help, along with a large amount of gold, silver, and supplies for the Andalos Legion, thanking them for their assistance in controlling the fire the previous night.

Although the wildfire was not completely extinguished and had spread to several surrounding mountains, there was no alternative. Without the aid of the Andalos army, the fire would have spiraled out of control by now.

Viserys accepted the bearded monk's gratitude without demur, leading the Andalos army on a brief half-day rest before heading back home.

Their journey this time took them as far as Ghoyan Drohe, touching the Valyrian Road of Pentos, before returning home.

Venturing further would have led them into the territories of Norvos and Pentos, and Viserys didn't want to clash with these two formidable city-states just yet.

Although Pentos had no soldiers for foreign wars, their towering city walls were still awe-inspiring, and they maintained good relations with many horse lords.

Later...

Hoot—

The melodious sound of a horn echoed.

The Andalos Legion, on their way
home, executed the remaining Brotherhood members by the banks of the Rhoyne River and threw their bodies into the water.

Then, they crossed the river and headed straight for their homeland.

...

Chapter 142: Melisandre

After three months of expedition, the Andalos Legion finally completed their conquest. Numerous lands were divided among the Targaryen forces, with countless Rhoynar villages and towns submitting to the banner of the three-headed dragon.

In the final battle at Ghoyan Drohe, the legion achieved a great victory, albeit suffering heavy losses. Nearly 3,000 soldiers were killed or wounded, and morale nearly crumbled on several occasions. Many soldiers were injured.

However, the spoils of war were also abundant.

The Andalos Legion defeated Khal Drogo's Khalasar, capturing a large number of horses after the battle. Relying on the ruins of a city, the legion killed over 5,000 Dothraki and captured nearly 1,000, along with an astonishing number of horses.

Many of these sturdy steppe horses remained uncastrated and could be used as breeding stock, which was undoubtedly a shot in the arm for Andalos.

The fertile lands of the Andas Plain, surrounded by mountains, contained vast uninhabited areas that could be used to build pastures and breed horses in the future.

Although this was a classic example of winning against the odds, defeating an entirely light cavalry Dothraki force, it was also a victory of civilized people over barbarians.

In addition to their bravery, the Andalos Legion had superior equipment and tactics.

Despite this, Viserys knew that in the era of cold weaponry, swift cavalry remained the ultimate force. It was crucial to build his own cavalry unit.

Gaining these astonishing numbers of horses excited him more than obtaining the Heart of the Red Comet from the Brotherhood.

A single Valyrian steel weapon could only enhance the strength of one individual.

A powerful legion, however, would conquer vast lands in the future, even helping him cross the Narrow Sea and reclaim the Iron Throne that belonged to him.

From a bird's-eye view:

The Andalos army was on its way home, with troops covering the land as far as the eye could see. Cavalry on both sides drove the captured horses.

Fluttering—

In the woods not far from the marching army, a group of ravens took to the sky.

...

Viserys led the army on their journey home.

Meanwhile, in Andalos City:

At dawn.

The wooden wheels of a carriage rumbled as it drove over the uneven ground of the main road.

"Halt!"

The guards at the end of the road conducted a routine inspection of the passing carriage.

Lifting the curtain, they saw a beautiful, perfectly proportioned woman in a red dress and hesitated for a moment.

"This..."

The guard swallowed hard and watched the carriage enter Andalos City.

It wasn't that he had never seen a woman before, but this red-robed woman was truly stunning. Her thin clothing was incredibly tempting, with a glimpse of her fair skin at her chest. Her whole body seemed to radiate heat, causing the guard's temperature to rise and his blood to rush.

"So beautiful," the young guard murmured, watching the carriage disappear into the distance.

The captain beside him, noticing his subordinate's infatuated demeanor, slapped him on the head.

"Look at yourself!"

"Have you never seen a woman before?"

...

However, he couldn't help but cast a curious glance at the departing carriage, having seen nothing earlier. He wondered what this woman looked like and how she could enchant his brother so thoroughly.

In that retreating carriage,

A woman with fiery red hair gently closed her robe, her delicate face exuding serenity and grace.

She hadn't deliberately tried to seduce the guard; it was merely the power of R'hllor radiating from her that irresistibly attracted people.

She believed it to be the people's innate reverence for the Lord of Light, and she was merely helping them better understand the true god.

Then Melisandre slightly lifted the curtain of the carriage, her seductive and careless red eyes glanced back.

"However,"

"A city without walls is truly surprising."

Andaros had no walls.

From a bird's-eye view, the entire city could be seen gathered around the central castle on a small hill. Numerous roads radiated outward in a complex network, forming the urban plan of Andaros.

Taverns, inns, brothels, blacksmiths, and more all huddled beneath the castle.

Perhaps only Andaros Keep was the true city, while the surrounding areas were merely outlying villages.

For this reason, when the castle was built, it was named after the location rather than adopting a more symbolic name.

The full name of Andaros was simply "Andaros," representing this vast region.

"Viserys Targaryen III."

"Son of the 'Mad King' Aerys Targaryen II and Rhaella Targaryen, he is said to be a mere youth now."

"Yet, as a child, he ventured alone to Braavos and, with the help of Braavos and the Martell family, created such a city."

The curtain of the carriage was lowered once more, blocking the light and plunging the interior back into darkness.

In this darkness,

Melisandre's eyes sparkled with curiosity.

It was a miracle that, six years ago, an eight-year-old child had the courage and ability to achieve all this.

Viserys' secret mission to Braavos and alliance with the Martell family had always been highly classified.

Although Oberyn's presence in Andaros was well-known, the Martell family had ostensibly severed ties with him, and Oberyn had not returned to Dorne for many years.

No one knew how Melisandre had discovered these secrets.

"One kingdom, one true god, one ruler."

Accompanied by the sound of carriage wheels outside, the red-robed woman whispered softly.

Melisandre had once suddenly seen Viserys' figure in the flames - a handsome youth with silver-gold hair, roasting a dragon's egg.

She hadn't seen anything in the flames for a long time before that, so she concluded that it was a revelation from the Lord of Light.

As Melisandre journeyed from afar, she learned more about Viserys' actions and his indisputable noble lineage. This further solidified her belief that Viserys was the 'Prince That Was Promised.'

"Your Grace..."

"Will you draw 'Lightbringer' from the flames?"

Then,

Rumble—

The carriage wheels began to roll again.

The carriage carrying the red-robed woman entered the cobblestone path leading to Andaros Keep.

"Halt!"

"Who goes there?"

The castle guards stopped the carriage.

These were elite soldiers, not as easily swayed as the guards outside the city.

Soon after,

The identity of the Lord of Light R'hllor's messenger, the red-robed woman Melisandre, was brought to the attention of Princess Rhaenys.

Chapter 143: False Gods and True Gods

In the great hall of the castle.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen sat on the high throne, draped in a fitting black velvet gown, with the Targaryen family crest embroidered in gold thread on the left side of her chest.

Her delicate, beautiful face was framed by her dark, autumn-water eyes, and her wavy brown hair fell down her back. Atop her head was the queen's crown, left to her by her grandmother, set with a fiery red gemstone.

This crown, meant for a queen, had been worn by Viserys when he was younger, but it no longer fit as he grew.

So Viserys left the crown in the castle and had another made for himself, with more gold melted down and reforged into his own crown.

Now.

Rhaenys sat on the throne in the great hall, both hands resting on the arms of the throne, looking down at the red-robed witch who knelt before her and then slowly rose to her feet. She then spoke.

"Your name is Melisandre?"

The young girl's clear voice echoed throughout the vast hall.

"As Your Highness has said."

The red-robed witch stood below the throne, her voice slightly ethereal and hoarse, but without a hint of emotion, calmly responding.

Her demeanor was neither humble nor haughty.

"Are you... a messenger of the Red God?"

Rhaenys, sitting on her throne, bathed in sunlight streaming in from both sides of the hall, her forehead's red gemstone shimmering, continued her inquiry.

"I am of humble origin and dare not claim to be a messenger of the Lord of Light. However, I am here to spread the glory of the true god."

Melisandre's answers to Rhaenys' questions were seamless, with no hesitation or flaws, as if she had prepared her responses in advance.

She denied being a messenger of the Lord of Light, saying that her humble status did not warrant the title of god's messenger.

Because Viserys had once claimed to be a messenger of the Seven Gods, if she claimed to be a messenger of the Lord of Light, their status would become somewhat equal.

Melisandre simply stated that she was here to spread the faith of the Lord of Light.

"This..."

Upon hearing her reply, Rhaenys' brow furrowed slightly.

In truth, there were many followers of the Lord of Light on the continent of Essos, and red-robed priests could often be seen in various cities.

They traveled far and wide to spread the faith of the Lord of Light, built red temples, bought slave children or adopted abandoned orphans to become their priests, temple prostitutes, or warriors.

For centuries they had been relatively restrained and tolerant, rarely clashing with local religious factions, and so their proselytizing was tolerated in many parts of Essos.

Even in Westeros, the stronghold of the faith of the Seven, there was a small red temple in Oldtown.

Rhaenys had also seen red-robed priests preaching in Andalos, though no red temple had been established there yet.

"Melisandre, do you not know that my uncle is a messenger of the Seven Gods?"

Rhaenys' brow furrowed for a moment before she asked her question once more.

This time, she didn't joke around; her delicate face took on a serious expression, as she felt an inexplicable pressure when facing the red-robed witch.

This matter was far from trivial.

"The radiance of false gods naturally cannot compare with that of the true god."

Melisandre, upon hearing Rhaenys' question, did not hesitate to respond directly.

"How bold!"

The guards standing on either side of the great hall were Andal warriors who had followed Viserys from the very beginning. Upon hearing the red-robed witch dare to brazenly insult the Seven Gods as false gods, they were naturally furious.

Guncer, the maester who served as Rhaenys' teacher, also frowned as he sat beside her. He then turned to look at the young girl sitting on the throne, feeling that this was a very disrespectful act. He thought Rhaenys should represent Viserys and punish the woman, have her dragged out and whipped, and then banished from Andalos.

Because this guest was a red-robed witch and involved matters of the occult, the castle's magic and occult advisor, Mili, also came to the scene and sat side by side with the maester.

However, she worshipped the Supreme Shepherd God, not the Seven Gods, so she didn't care about Melisandre's words.

But...

Mili's hands were tightly clenched, and her gaze towards Melisandre was filled with danger and scrutiny.

If this red-robed witch wanted to join Andalos, it would inevitably affect her own status.

However, Rhaenys, even though she had a good temper, furrowed her brows after hearing Melisandre's words. But her reaction was not as intense as that of the guards and maester. She simply waved her hand to stop the guards' actions.

The girl then looked at the red-robed witch with her beautiful eyes and spoke seriously.

"Melisandre."

"I need to correct you. The Lord of Light is a true god, and the Seven Gods are also true gods."

"If you make this mistake again, I'm afraid you'll need to find a knight to replace you in a trial by combat."

Rhaenys looked at the red-robed witch and warned her.

She wasn't lying.

Although Rhaenys was kind-hearted, if this woman continued to be insolent, Rhaenys would order her execution, or the woman could find a knight to replace her in a trial by combat.

Melisandre, of course, heard Rhaenys' warning and slightly bowed her body, but still remained calm.

Seemingly oblivious to the surrounding guards who had their hands on their sword hilts, she neither denied nor agreed with Rhaenys' words. Instead, she paused for a moment and then continued speaking.

"Every mortal must choose."

"In the future, there will be no distinction between men and women, old and young, noble and lowly in their choices."

"To embrace the light or follow the darkness."

"To promote goodness or indulge in evil."

"To believe in the true god or worship false gods."

"I do not deny your uncle, King Viserys Targaryen III's nobility."

The red-robed witch stood quietly in the center of the great hall, her voice slowly echoing.

"On the contrary."

"I believe that His Majesty is the reincarnation of the savior Azor Ahai, who in the future will wield a flaming sword called Lightbringer, also known as the Red Sword of Heroes, and awaken dragons from stone to end this eternal conflict."

Melisandre's words were somewhat cryptic, sounding somewhat profound, yet also like nonsensical ramblings.

Rhaenys and the surrounding guards were somewhat baffled, only the maester seemed to understand some of the witch's words and was shocked, his eyes widening.

"Your Highness, I believe we should immediately expel this red-robed witch."

"Her words are dangerous."

The maester then took a deep breath and whispered his advice into Rhaenys' ear.

However, Rhaenys remained silent for a long while and eventually shook her head, choosing not to accept her teacher's advice and expel the red-robed witch.

"Maester Guncer, she came to find Viserys. I cannot just send her away like this."

"Let him handle this matter when he returns."

Chapter 144: The Death of Mirri

"Very well."

"Then, rest in the castle for now."

Having made up her mind, Rhaenys dismissed the red-robed witch and had a servant prepare a room for her to stay in the castle temporarily.

Everything would be decided after Viserys returned.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Having been granted permission to meet the lord of Andalos, Melisandre slightly bowed to express her gratitude.

Afterward, she raised her head to look at the three people in the hall, with her gaze lingering on Mirri for a moment, and then she left the hall.

"Followers of the Lord of Light are skilled in fire magic."

After the red-robed witch had disappeared from the hall, Mirri, as a magical advisor, began to explain.

"The magic of this red-robed witch claiming to come from Asshai may be more powerful than mine."

The hideously faced sorceress didn't avoid the truth and directly admitted that the other party's power was far more unfathomable.

Later,

Everyone else had left the hall, leaving Rhaenys sitting alone on the throne.

She drove everyone away because she wanted some peace and quiet.

The young girl raised her hand to remove the crown from her head, gently holding it in both hands, her beautiful black eyes gazing at the sunlight streaming in from outside the hall, lost in thought for a rare moment.

During Viserys' expedition to expand their territory, Rhaenys had been under immense pressure.

In fact, perhaps no one had noticed, but Rhaenys' personality was gradually changing.

...

However, not too long had passed.

Sunset gave way to moonrise.

On the first night after Melisandre moved into the castle, an unexpected incident occurred.

"What happened?"

"My goodness, how could this be?"

The servants whispered and exclaimed in surprise.

Subsequently, chaotic footsteps sounded, and the castle's guards rushed over, sealing off the scene.

"Quick!"

"Check this side again."

Rhaenys, who had just gone to bed not long ago, arrived at the scene surrounded by soldiers.

This was the room where the three young dragons lived.

Because they were too noisy at night, Rhaenys had found a separate room for the dragons to live in.

However, an accident occurred on this night.

When the patrolling guards reached the room, they found a charred corpse lying outside, still emitting black smoke, with the body burnt to a crisp.

After inspection, the identity of the corpse was confirmed to be Mirri, the castle's magical advisor.

She was suspected to have been burned to death by the black dragon Balerion's dragonfire.

However, this was just speculation, as Balerion couldn't speak and naturally couldn't explain anything.

Even though it was just a guess, the guards in the castle looked at the black dragon, who had grown a little larger, with vigilance and fear in their eyes.

They were afraid that it would suddenly become violent again and harm those around it. Although it was a dragon, it didn't understand human nature and couldn't be measured by human reasoning.

"Balerion burned Mirri to death?"

Rhaenys, surrounded by soldiers, arrived at the scene and looked at Balerion incredulously after learning what had happened.

"This..."

The girl was currently wrapped in a velvet cloak, having rushed over without even having time to comb her hair.

"This... can't be possible."

She whispered in disbelief.

"There is nothing impossible in this world, Your Highness."

Maester Guncer also hurried over from the maester's tower, having heard the news.

A young dragon had burned someone to death. At first, the maester didn't believe it.

But after seeing the charred body of Mirri and the black dragon Balerion surrounded by soldiers, he had no choice but to accept the possibility.

Such a small dragon, barely able to fly, how could it have already mastered the art of breathing fire?

However, when he hurriedly approached, he discovered that it was all true, and the person burned to death was someone he knew well.

Mirri, who had served as a magical advisor in Andalos for five or six years, was an elder in the same way as the maester, and the two were very familiar with each other.

"After all, dragons are not humans."

"Perhaps it simply mistook Mirri for a piece of food."

Maester Guncer arrived at the scene, and his voice was filled with sorrow as he looked at Mirri's charred body.

Beside him, a child cried. Mirri's son had also come to the scene, sobbing uncontrollably at the sight of his mother's burned corpse.

The scene was immediately chaotic and disordered.

"How could this happen?"

Rhaenys felt a headache coming on, unsure of how to handle the situation.

She didn't want to believe that it was Balerion who had burned Mirri to death. She had watched the dragons hatch from their eggs, and they were like three innocent children, with plenty of food available.

Why would they burn Mirri without reason?

However, whether she wanted to believe it or not, the facts were right before her eyes: Balerion may have truly burned her.

"But..."

At that moment, the maester standing nearby suddenly spoke.

"Your Highness, where is the red-robed witch who arrived at the castle during the day?"

"Um?"

Rhaenys, who was at a loss for what to do, suddenly heard her teacher's words and hesitated for a moment.

"Maester Guncer, what do you want with her?"

In Rhaenys' view, the two events were completely unrelated.

However, the maester shook his head upon hearing Rhaenys' words, reminding her.

"Your Highness, do you remember what Mirri said this morning? Followers of the Lord of Light are proficient in fire magic."

"And that Lady... Melisandre, her sorcery is even more advanced than Mirri's."

"Today, she just moved into the castle, and then Mirri was burned to death. As a witch, who could easily burn her?"

As the words of Maester Guncer, dressed in a gray robe, fell, Rhaenys' eyes widened slightly.

"What?"

"Are you implying…"

The girl seemed to interpret the maester's words as suspecting the red priestess who had just arrived at the castle today, suspecting that she had used fire magic to murder the magical advisor, Mirri.

However, the maester still shook his head, speaking quietly.

"This is merely a reasonable suspicion, Your Highness."

"We have no concrete evidence to prove that the red-robed witch used magic to kill Mirri."

Upon hearing her teacher's words, Rhaenys finally breathed a sigh of relief.

She feared that Mirri's death had been caused by her allowing the red-robed witch into the castle, and she would feel guilty if that were the case.

However, just as Rhaenys sighed in relief, the question returned to the forefront.

Had the black dragon really killed someone?

"But… Your Highness."

Then, the maester standing nearby suddenly spoke in a faint voice.

"If we imprison this red-robed witch under the pretext of murdering Mirri…"

"Then people will believe…"

"That Balerion did not kill anyone."

The maester's voice was faint, and Rhaenys' body shuddered suddenly.

She turned her head, looking at her teacher in disbelief.

Under the bright lights surrounding them, the maester's hands were placed in front of him, and his face was a mix of light and shadow, showing no trace of a smile.

.

Chapter 145: Capture

That night.

Melisandre sat quietly at her desk in her room.

On the table was a half-burned white candle silently contributing its light, dispelling the darkness of the entire room.

"Dispelling darkness to reveal light is bound to be a bumpy process..."

"And there will be sacrifices."

The woman sat at the desk, suddenly mumbling to herself, unaware of the meaning behind her words.

In front of her was a silver-plated copper mirror, polished by skilled Myrish craftsmen. Melisandre's gaze fell upon the half-burned white candle in the mirror.

The flame...danced.

Under the light of the flame, the white candle shrank little by little, turning into droplets of wax falling onto the candlestick below.

"Your sacrifice will not be remembered by the world."

"But..."

Just as Melisandre was whispering something softly.

Suddenly, there was the sound of noisy footsteps outside her room, followed by the footsteps getting closer and closer.

Boom—

The door to her room was kicked open, and a group of guards clad in armor and wielding long swords barged in without regard for whether Melisandre was asleep or not.

Then the guard captain leading the group pointed at Melisandre and shouted.

"Melisandre, follower of R'hllor, you are under arrest on charges of murdering advisor Mirri Maz Duur with sorcery and the arcane arts!"

As he recited the charges, he emphasized the term "follower of R'hllor" loudly, then continued.

"Now, all you need to do is confess and submit to justice!"

As the guard captain's words fell.

Whoosh—

A group of soldiers surrounded her.

However, none of them dared to directly arrest the red-robed witch, as word had spread throughout the castle that this wicked witch had burned Missy alive with fire magic in order to join the castle's ranks and monopolize power.

People are in awe of things they cannot understand, like the existence of magic and witchcraft.

Thus, these soldiers only dared to surround Melisandre but did not dare to actually arrest her. They were also afraid that they would be turned into balls of fire and burned alive.

However, upon hearing the guard's accusations and recitation of the charges, Melisandre, seated in her chair, seemed very calm, as if she had known all along. She lifted her eyelids slightly, her gaze casually sweeping over everyone present.

Then she closed her robe and stood up from the chair.

Whoosh—

The red-robed witch's casual movements scared the surrounding soldiers, who retreated several steps.

"You..."

"What are you going to do!"

The guard captain who had just recited Melisandre's charges drew his sword, looking at her with a cautious expression and a somewhat tense voice.

He had been a guard in the great hall during the day and had heard her blaspheme the Seven, calling them false gods. Therefore, when he received the order to arrest Melisandre, he wanted to teach this woman a lesson.

However, actually standing in front of the witch, he still felt a bit nervous.

Yet, looking at the tense expressions on the faces of the soldiers around her, Melisandre still remained casual. Then she shook her head calmly and said.

"I can be taken away by you."

"But I don't accept these crimes that have been forced upon me."

Hearing Melisandre say this, the guard captain was about to scold her.

"You..."

But he was interrupted by the red-robed witch's next words.

.

"And I suppose Princess Rhaenyra didn't order me to wear these things either."

The red-haired woman raised her chin slightly, and following her gaze, they saw the chains and shackles in the hands of the guards.

"This..."

Melisandre's words left all the guards looking at each other in confusion, their gazes eventually settling on the captain.

"Did Her Grace say that?"

The Andal warrior's face turned red and pale in turns.

"Well..."

He recalled the specific instructions Princess Rhaenyra gave when issuing this order...

In the end, he looked up to see a hint of fear in Melisandre's eyes.

Because... the reality matched her words almost perfectly.

Though Rhaenyra had ordered Melisandre's arrest on charges of murder, she had specifically instructed that she be treated well. It was an arrest in name only, and was actually more like house arrest.

But how could this woman know all this?

He remembered that he was the only one present at that time.

Or was this... the power of witchcraft and magic?

The captain's expression changed, and his eyes showed more fear as he looked at Melisandre.

Finally, facing the eyes of his brothers, he clenched his teeth and waved his hand.

"Do as she says!"

"Take her away!"

Several guards then put down their weapons and the shackles meant for criminals.

Melisandre, true to her word, did not resist as they led her out of the room and onto a carriage. The curtains on both sides were drawn, and the carriage left the castle under the cover of night, imprisoning the red-robed witch in the dungeons of Andalos.

Boom—

The dungeon's iron door closed and the lock was reinserted.

...

Meanwhile, back at the castle.

Rhaenyra was standing alone in the darkness, her mind in turmoil.

"Why... did I do that?"

She didn't know if Melisandre had killed Myrcella, but she felt that the possibility was small. They had no reason to harm each other, and it seemed unlikely that Melisandre would suddenly kill her upon arrival.

But Rhaenyra didn't know what was going on in her head, and in the end, she inexplicably agreed with her teacher's suggestion.

She had the red-robed witch arrested and thrown into the dungeon.

Doing so was supposed to make everyone believe that Myrcella hadn't been killed by Balerion, so they wouldn't fear or despise him...

However, Rhaenyra never considered that by doing this, she was essentially admitting that she believed Myrcella had died at Balerion's hands.

She didn't know why Myrcella had been near the dragon in the middle of the night. Perhaps... she was just passing by?

Or was she curious about the dragon and wanted to touch it?

Then Balerion mistook her for an enemy. He didn't want to hurt her; he... he... maybe he just wanted to play a game with Myrcella?

"I..."

The brown-haired girl crouched on the ground, feeling as if her brain was about to explode.

Bold ideas kept running through her mind, but she could never make a firm decision.

She had always lived under the protection of Viserys, and now that she was away from him, she didn't even have the courage to make a significant decision on her own.

Hiss~

At that moment, Rhaegal let out a cheerful roar and jumped onto her shoulder, rubbing his head against Rhaenyra's cheek.

The girl's heart softened, and she stroked Rhaegal's fearsome scales gently.

Then she raised her hand and slapped Balerion hard.

The black dragon tilted his head slightly, either unable to dodge or not wanting to, and was slapped firmly by Rhaenyra.

Roar...

He let out an unhappy growl.

"Hmph, you troublemaker."

"Wait until Viserys returns, and don't cause any more trouble in the meantime!"

...

Time passed, and more than half a month went by.

Toot...

Accompanied by the sound of horns, the Andalos army finally returned to their homeland.

.

Chapter 146: Return

Rumble...

The castle gates were pushed open, and Viserys entered with a group of knights.

Princess Rhaenyra and Daenerys, along with the maesters and numerous castle servants, gathered at the entrance to greet them.

"Your Grace."

Then, one by one, many knelt before him.

Viserys was dressed in simple clothing, slightly wrinkled breeches and boots, with a leather belt around his waist, and a longsword at his side.

Atop his head, he wore a glittering golden crown, his silver-gold hair cascading down his back, the long strands gently fluttering in the wind.

Viserys Targaryen III, at the age of fourteen, had led his troops to conquer the Rhoynar near the Two Rivers in just six months and had successfully defeated a powerful Dothraki horselord, achieving his first major victory in life before returning with his army.

The young king still looked the same, except now his cheeks bore traces of hardship, and his youthful naivete had been stripped away, leaving his eyes deeper and more profound.

He glanced at the people kneeling before him, then nodded and spoke.

"Rise, all of you."

Upon hearing Viserys' command, the people on the ground stood up and dusted themselves off.

Splash...

Viserys dismounted his horse as well.

A servant took the reins from his hands, and the victorious knights who had followed Viserys also dismounted one after another.

After handing the reins to the servant, Viserys quickly walked over to Daenerys.

Looking at his younger sister, who was only waist-high to him and wearing a large hood with a circle of white gauze around it, he crouched down and tightly embraced Daenerys.

"I'm sorry, Dany."

"I came back too late."

Viserys had already heard the news upon his arrival in Andalos.

Although Rhaenyra had promptly ordered a lockdown on the information, there were no secrets that could be kept for long.

News about the castle fire, Princess Daenerys emerging from the flames with three dragon hatchlings, had quickly spread throughout Andalos.

Soon after, the news of Viserys' victory over Khal Drogo in Ghis accompanied the merchant caravans and gradually made its way back.

According to the traveling merchants, the ancient Valyrian road was littered with the corpses of Dothraki, and the blood had turned the Little Rhoyne River red.

Vultures and crows circled overhead, fighting over the rotting bodies, and the nauseating stench of decay lingered even after more than a month.

Many merchant caravans were forced to take alternate routes.

Princess Daenerys had hatched dragons, and Viserys had defeated the Dothraki invasion.

These two pieces of good news quickly spread throughout Andalos, and people celebrated, believing that the king was the true dragon of legend, and that one day he would reclaim the Iron Throne.

Feeling Viserys' warm embrace and the strong scent of blood that accompanied him, Daenerys sniffed softly.

"Brother... I'm fine."

Actually, having so much time passed since the incident, Daenerys had long come to terms with it.

But now, seeing her relative whom she hadn't seen in half a year, and being comforted by his tight embrace, the girl's grievances could no longer be contained.

Her beautiful eyes were misty with tears beneath the white gauze, her young shoulders trembling as if she were softly sobbing.

Hearing his sister's anguished cries, Viserys felt a pang of heart ache.

He hadn't expected such a thing to happen. Although he knew Daenerys had the blood of the true dragons and could hatch dragons, he hadn't imagined it would happen like this - a sudden fire after he had been away for half a year, killing the servants in the castle and hatching dragons.

"Can I take a look?"

Viserys then raised his head, cautiously wanting to see Daenerys's current appearance.

"No...no!"

However, the girl choking back tears firmly held down the hat on her head.

Although her once bald head had grown some eyebrows and hair after so much time, Daenerys still firmly refused to let Viserys see her current appearance.

"Alright."

Seeing Daenerys's determined attitude, Viserys had no choice but to give up. Finally, he hugged his sister tightly once more before standing up and looking at Rhaenyra standing beside him.

"Thank you."

He knew that after he left, a lot of work had fallen on Rhaenyra's shoulders.

The brown-haired girl was now wearing an elegant black velvet gown, her hands resting in front of her.

She had silently watched the entire reunion between Viserys and Daenerys and then looked up and said softly.

"It wasn't difficult, Viserys."

"I'm just afraid you'll blame me for messing up many things."

Rhaenyra looked a bit worried, as things had been going wrong lately, and she hadn't been doing well enough.

Afraid that Viserys might notice something, the girl blinked her lovely eyes and displayed a big smile.

"Hey—"

The girl's brilliant smile caught Viserys's eyes.

He looked at Rhaenyra's still cheerful and optimistic expression, not sure if he had really seen something. He hesitated for a moment and then smiled.

"It's fine."

"No matter what happened."

He then gently hugged Rhaenyra as well.

"Let's go inside and talk about the rest."

As they spoke, a shadow passed over them in the sky, accompanied by a deep growl.

Crack—

Sharp claws gripped the castle's stone walls, with debris and dust falling down.

"What is that?"

"Protect the king!"

Clang, clang, clang—

The knights following Viserys reacted quickly, drawing their shining swords and forming a circle around the king for protection.

Viserys, however, didn't panic. He stood quietly inside the circle, one hand on his sword hilt, and looked up at the shadow above.

"This is…"

Under the brilliant sunlight, black scales reflected a metallic sheen, with gaps between the scales resembling flowing lava. A long neck supported a hideous head held high.

A pair of crimson eyes reflected Viserys's figure.

It felt that this person seemed somewhat familiar.

And Viserys, looking up at the dragon above, squinted his eyes due to the bright sunlight, with one hand forming a shade.

He suddenly felt that this dragon resembled the one he had seen in his dragon dreams.

"Is it… Balerion?"

...

Chapter 147: The Prison

Not long after.

Inside the castle's great hall.

Viserys had bathed and cleansed himself of filth, then changed into more comfortable attire. He sat on the throne, listening to the accomplishments of Rhaenys's regency during this time.

At this moment, the black dragon Balerion lay sprawled on the ground beside the throne, its heavy breathing echoing throughout the hall.

Viserys gently stroked its skull with one hand.

"So much has happened during this time?"

Viserys found it somewhat incredible after hearing the maester's report, then turned to look at Rhaenys.

However, the brown-haired girl seemed to be in a much better mood. She bit her lip, revealing a smile, then spoke with a hint of pride, yet not wanting to appear too boastful, fearing Viserys would see through her, finally saying...

"Not bad."

She had thought Viserys would scold her for making a mess of everything during this time.

But to her surprise, Viserys did not blame her; instead, he praised her for doing well, expressing that with her overseeing things at home, he could better defend against enemies outside.

With Viserys's compliments, Rhaenys felt somewhat elated. Her previous apprehension and unease vanished.

Seeing the girl's face finally reveal an optimistic smile, Viserys's heart was completely at ease.

He then slightly reined in his smile, and began to discuss more serious matters.

"No wonder I haven't seen Bessie and Mirri."

He had found it strange that Bessie and Mirri hadn't come to greet him, but after sitting here, he learned that both had encountered accidents.

Bessie had attempted to enter the inferno to save his mother but was severely burned. He barely survived and was still in the process of recovery.

However, according to the maester, it was nearly impossible for her to wield a sword again in the future. Her face was ruined, and she feared seeing Viserys would frighten him, so she didn't appear.

As for Viserys's magical advisor Mirri, she had been burned to death in an accident over a month ago.

"An accident?"

In times of turmoil, human life was as insignificant as ants. Even a sorceress wielding extraordinary power could die on the spot if she wasn't careful.

Viserys hadn't expected Mirri to die like this and was silent for a moment.

"What exactly happened?"

He asked after a long silence.

Not only were Viserys, Rhaenys, and the maester present in the great hall, but Oberyn was also seated in a chair on one side. However, the Prince of Dorne's attention was mostly focused on Balerion.

An actual living dragon, how many people had seen one?

"Could it be this one's doing?"

Oberyn pointed to the black dragon, jokingly speaking.

But as his words fell, Rhaenys and the maester both fell silent. Oberyn, who had only meant it as an offhand remark, was taken aback.

"Did I guess correctly?"

Viserys's brow furrowed slightly.

Faced with the current situation, the maester could only clear his throat and speak.

"Your Grace, it's highly likely that Lady Mirri was murdered."

"Some days ago..."

The maester recounted the events from over a month ago when a red-haired witch had arrived at the castle, and that very night, Mirri had met with an accident and was burned to death.

After the maester finished speaking, Rhaenys raised her hand to speak.

"No..."

"I don't think it was the witch's doing. I think it was Balerion's doing."

Hearing Rhaenys's words, Balerion, who had been dozing off on the ground, raised its head warily.

Viserys gently stretched out his hand to touch the fearsome skull of the black dragon, calming its agitated mood.

"The witch?"

"Be specific about who it is."

Then Rhaenys recounted the whole story in greater detail than the maester had.

"What did you say the witch's name was?"

Viserys couldn't help but interrupt Rhaenys halfway through her story.

"Melisandre?"

Rhaenys hesitated for a moment, then nodded her head.

"Yes, that's right. Do you know her?"

Viserys, however, remained silent for a moment and shook his head.

"No, I don't know her."

"Go on."

Viserys listened to the entire story, including the part where Rhaenys had Melisandre imprisoned in order to protect the black dragon.

"Oh?"

Upon learning that the idea had come from Maester Gunthor, Viserys glanced up at him.

The maester was currently looking down at the floor, not noticing Viserys' gaze.

"It seems that this envoy of the Lord of Light may very well be innocent."

Viserys withdrew his gaze and stood up from the throne.

"In that case."

"I shall meet with her."

...

Paul was a soldier in the Andalos City Defense Force, stationed at the prison, where his duties mainly consisted of guarding the inmates.

Time passed peacefully and leisurely.

However, a month ago, a special prisoner was brought in, and the prison underwent a change.

She was a beautiful woman with red hair, and Paul did not need to question her beauty. She appeared to be charged with the crime of murder.

What puzzled him was that she was granted special treatment despite her serious crime.

She had her own cell, which was almost indistinguishable from the outside world except for the restriction of personal freedom.

Paul speculated that she might be a mistress of some high-ranking official, which was why she enjoyed such special treatment in prison.

Because of her beauty, Paul had been secretly observing her, discovering that she seemed very willing to talk with other soldiers and prisoners.

Regardless of whether they were men or women, she could engage in lengthy conversations with them, leaving them deep in thought. The next day, they would voluntarily return for more.

Even at dusk, they would join her in lighting a bonfire and praying before it.

"What's going on?"

"What did they talk about?"

Paul was curious.

One day, the red-haired woman finally noticed Paul's presence and waved at him.

Paul, as if compelled, walked over to her, and then...

...

"The King has arrived."

A ripple of excitement passed through the otherwise calm prison.

It seemed that the recently victorious king had suddenly come to the prison, apparently to meet with a prisoner.

It was the red-robed witch who had been imprisoned here before.

"Sacrifice..."

Paul felt nervous, not knowing why the king had come this time. Could it be... to execute Lady Melisandre?

However, as Paul's heart filled with anxiety, he saw a silver-haired young man, escorted by guards, approaching him, then looking at him curiously.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Lead the way."

Chapter 148: Details

The quill pen glided across the paper, making a rustling sound.

The room was quiet, with bright lamplight.

At this moment, however, there was a commotion outside.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

Following the sound of chains unlocking, the prison door was pushed open, and a silver-haired young man in plain clothes with a handsome face walked in.

The master of this cell was currently wearing a red robe, sitting at a desk and writing something.

Although Melisandre was technically imprisoned, the treatment she received was even better than when she was in the castle. She had good food and drink every day, and it was convenient to wash and bathe.

And because of Rhaenys' special treatment, Melisandre had the opportunity to light a bonfire every night and pray to the Lord of Light.

Her life was almost identical to her days of quiet meditation in the Red Temple.

Bathing, reciting scriptures, praying, sleeping - her days passed and then began anew.

During this time, with nothing better to do, Melisandre successfully gathered her first group of followers in Andalos - some criminals and prison guards in the jail.

Every evening, they would join Melisandre in lighting the fire, chanting prayers, and asking R'hllor to grant them the dawn.

Viserys had noticed these activities when he entered the prison.

The guard accompanying him tightened his grip on his sword.

"Are you Melisandre?"

Viserys had the guards close the door behind him after entering the cell.

He wanted to have a private conversation with this woman.

At this moment, Melisandre put down the quill in her hand and calmly looked at the young man she had seen in the flames.

Now he was standing right in front of her.

"Mortal titles are not worth mentioning, Your Grace," Melisandre said calmly.

"I have sensed the power of a foreign god filling your body; you have been tainted by evil and need the power of the true God to cleanse you."

It was late at night, and the outside of the prison was pitch black.

The candlelight in the room flickered, casting a long shadow of the young man against the wall.

Viserys raised his eyebrows slightly upon hearing the words of the Red Priestess.

Since entering the room, he had been sizing her up, and she indeed matched the image of the Red Priestess in his mind.

There was no denying that Melisandre was a beautiful woman with a delicate face, red eyes, and fiery red hair like flames.

She wore a thin red dress, and her body radiated a scorching power.

Melisandre exuded an alluring aura, but at this moment, her expression was extremely serious.

"What do you mean?" Viserys asked, raising his eyebrows. Although he did not show it on the surface, he felt a slight chill in his heart.

He didn't think the Red Priestess was bluffing like other monks.

Those who could detect the power within his body were few and far between, limited to the genuine sorceress Mirri and this Red Priestess.

Viserys was well aware that this priestess of R'hllor truly possessed magic, sorcery, and even the ability to prophesize.

"I believe you know what I'm talking about. You have already harnessed and started using this power."

"The power of the evil god is about to pervade your flesh, bones, and even your soul. Without cleansing, it will ultimately result in a terrifying disaster."

"And I will help you."

Melisandre's voice was calm, but her eyes held an unprecedented seriousness.

She had once glimpsed a bit of Viserys in the flames, but she had been careless after all.

She never expected the evil that had tainted Viserys to be more horrifying than she had imagined. Just by looking at the silver-haired youth, it was as if she could hear the wailing of countless souls.

As Melisandre had said, Viserys' expression remained calm, as if he already knew what she was talking about.

The black mist inside him required the consumption of sentient souls as sustenance, and it didn't seem like a good thing at all. Instead, it seemed like he was making a deal with a demon.

He continued to kill people and absorb their souls, and in exchange, the demon constantly granted him power.

One day, he might even sell himself to the demon.

However, after a long silence, Viserys didn't ask what he should do, as Melisandre had expected.

Instead, he raised his head slightly and asked her an unexpected question.

"How old are you this year?"

"What?"

Melisandre was slightly taken aback, and for the first time, her calm demeanor showed surprise.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just...curious."

"I've heard that witches reveal their true selves when they cast magic."

Viserys answered seriously.

"They become old, ugly, like an old witch..."

"No!"

However, before Viserys could finish, Melisandre interrupted him.

"Except for very evil curses, almost no magic makes people age!"

"Even with very evil curses, if you overdraw your power for a short time and rest for a while, you can still recover."

Melisandre seemed unable to tolerate Viserys' description of witches, and she emphasized by tugging at her own cheek.

"I naturally look like this, not because of any magical transformation."

Nevertheless, Viserys still stood calmly, gazing at the red-robed witch, seemingly uninterested in her answer.

Melisandre also realized something after becoming slightly emotional in her words.

"One last question."

Viserys spoke again.

"Go ahead."

Melisandre calmed herself, thinking she shouldn't be angry over small matters.

"Did you kill the person?"

Melisandre shook her head after hearing the question, her voice very decisive.

"No."

Viserys didn't say much after hearing her denial, just nodded.

He then turned and opened the cell door, leaving the prison.

"Let the person go."

...

Night.

The night was deep and quiet.

Viserys released Melisandre due to insufficient evidence and allowed her to return to the castle.

Since her previous room had been destroyed and the new main castle hadn't been built yet, Viserys, who had just returned, had to choose another room to stay in.

Fortunately, Rhaenys had already solved this problem for him, reserving a room for him in advance, next to the two girls' rooms.

Viserys then returned to his room, took off his coat, and sat tiredly at his desk.

He didn't know whether Mili's death was an accident or murder, and he couldn't even guarantee that it wasn't the redhead's doing.

Because based on his understanding of her, she wouldn't mind using underhanded means to achieve certain goals.

However, the main issue was the motive.

Melisandre had no grudge against Mili Mazduur, so why did she suddenly want to kill her?

Melisandre was not a madwoman who acted without logic.

As Viserys thought about these messy matters, he went to his desk.

He had been away from Andalos for more than half a year this time but had returned once in the meantime.

Rhaenys had helped him deal with most of the government affairs, but some decisions had to be made by him personally.

For example, these pieces of intelligence from across the Narrow Sea and a personal letter from the Sea Lord of Braavos.

Viserys skillfully used a small knife to slit open the envelope.

However, at that moment, his wrist suddenly paused in place.

He realized that there seemed to be a slight color difference in the seal of the letter, as if someone had tampered with it and then repaired it with sealing wax.

Viserys' eyes narrowed slightly.

Chapter 149: Defeat and Retreat

Viserys returned after the first month of his campaign.

Andaros held a rare grand celebration, commemorating the conquest of a vast territory and villages in the Two Rivers region, almost restoring the borders of the ancient Andaros Kingdom.

At the same time, it was a ceremony to reward the many knights who had accompanied the army on the campaign.

After the awards, a grand tournament was held.

Viserys and Oberyn, due to their status, did not participate. In the end, Sir Evin Pass, a Loyna general who had once led the heavy cavalry in the great battle, won the championship.

As one of the first nobles to rise under the banner of the Targaryen Three-Headed Dragon, Sir Evin naturally remained loyal to Viserys.

Once, they were nothing but mud under the feet of others, plundered by the Dothraki, dependent on the trade city-states. They couldn't compete with the shrewd merchants, and their only option was to become mercenaries, not knowing which day they would die in a foreign land.

But since the arrival of the Targaryens, these villages were united, becoming a formidable force that could not be ignored.

The plundering Dothraki left behind corpses everywhere as they fled in haste, and even their Khal was burned to death.

The merchant caravans passing through the villages became more respectful, no longer exploiting the villagers out of greed as they did before.

After all, if they offended the caravan, they would never come back, and the villagers would have to travel thousands of miles to buy and sell goods.

But now, caravans came and went more frequently, primarily heading towards the emerging city-state of Andaros.

In this vast plain, Andaros had become a sacred synonym.

It rose rapidly and was blessed with a mysterious religious aura, eventually becoming the holy land for countless Andal people.

However, the newly joined Loyna people did not see this place as their homeland; they were more eager for the king to rebuild Ghis Doha.

They even hoped to advance further down the Mother River and restore the ancient Loyna capital, Na Sa Star City.

The ambition of the Andals stopped there, but the Loyna people who had joined the Targaryen forces were even more enthusiastic.

At a glance, the scene was thriving.

In the latest map published by Braavos, the entire Andaros Plain, along with the Velvet Hills, the banks of the Upper Rhoyne River in Ghis Doha, and some mountains in the Norvos range, were all marked in Targaryen red, represented by a shallow three-headed dragon emblem.

…

However, as everything gradually calmed down.

On the distant surface of the Narrow Sea.

A sudden naval battle broke out.

The royal fleet, which had made great achievements in quelling the Iron Islands rebellion, appeared near Dragonstone Island's waters one morning after returning to Storm's End for several months of rest.

Along with them were the Targaryen family's distant relatives, Count Monford Velaryon of Tidewater Island and his warships, and the Dragonstone Island fleet that had defected to the enemy during a routine patrol.

It was evident that this was a long-planned conspiracy.

Sir Joffrey, the commander-in-chief of the Dragonstone Island fleet stationed on the island, was forced to organize a counterattack.

The two sides engaged in a fierce battle on the sea. In the end, the outnumbered forces suffered defeat, and the elderly knight was even shot in the chest with an arrow before being protected by the guards and retreating in a hurry.

After suffering a significant defeat, the Dragonstone Island fleet retreated back to the port of Andaros, causing an uproar and agitated emotions among the people.

The elderly knight had been shot in the chest, but fortunately, his heart was not hit; otherwise, he would have died on the spot. However, even though his heart was not injured, the chest was still a vital area. Coupled with the knight's advanced age, chaos ensued upon his return to the castle.

...

Dragonstone Island was finally lost.

However, it was not Viserys who had hoped to lose this island of extraordinary significance to the Targaryens, but he had long felt that since it couldn't be defended, there was no point in guarding it. Apart from its strategically important position, like a sword that could directly threaten King's Landing, it had no other purpose.

Even its production couldn't achieve self-sufficiency, and it still required Andaros to allocate a large amount of resources every month to maintain a strategic deterrent against King's Landing.

But in Viserys' view, this deterrent had no meaning. What could it do other than keeping King Robert from forgetting about him, causing him to lose his appetite for food and drink?

Could they attack now?

Relying on Andaros' current army of ten thousand or so and three little dragons to conquer the Seven Kingdoms?

Viserys couldn't afford to lose, and he wouldn't act recklessly without absolute certainty.

This cautious attitude had always been a part of Viserys' actions.

What's more, he now had dragons. All he needed to do was wait patiently for the dragons to grow up, and he could re-enact the story of Aegon's conquest of Westeros.

The one who should be anxious now was the fat man sitting on the Iron Throne. Perhaps he felt the spikes on that iron monstrosity were becoming more uncomfortable to sit on. They had nothing to worry about.

However, Ser Joffrey didn't think so.

The old man, as commander of the fleet and second in command of the Targaryen forces, held great power.

During his time in Andaros, even Viserys had to respect his opinions.

Ser Joffrey had assured him that he could defend Dragonstone, and at worst, they could retreat if they couldn't win.

But now, due to carelessness and not noticing the betrayal of his subordinates, they had suffered a significant defeat, and he was even severely wounded and barely clinging to life.

Viserys didn't blame him for losing the battle and Dragonstone, but he blamed him for not cherishing his own body, suffering such a disaster at his age.

Now, in the sickroom.

The old knight lay on the bed, pale and weak, still giving instructions with his last breath.

Losing Dragonstone was a minor matter.

However, whether or not the Iron Throne would take advantage of this situation and cross the Narrow Sea to re-enact the War of the Ninepenny Kings and eliminate the threat in its infancy was what Viserys should consider next.

When Robert Baratheon first ascended the Iron Throne, he didn't immediately launch an all-out attack on Dragonstone because he lacked naval forces.

However, the royal fleet, built at great expense, was utterly destroyed by the old knight's fire.

In the subsequent events, the Targaryens arrived on the continent of Essos and established a foothold, but King Robert remained powerless because the endless wars in recent years had severely damaged the economy of the Seven Kingdoms, leaving them unable to launch a long-distance, overseas campaign.

He could only watch helplessly as the Targaryens gradually developed on another continent.

And now, the opportunity had finally ripened.

...

Chapter 150: Preparing for War

The Royal Fleet had just quelled the rebellion of the Iron Islands, and morale was high. The kingdom had also recovered from the heavy blows dealt during the usurper's war and was gradually getting back on track.

"We must be vigilant..."

Lying in his sickbed, the old lord's thoughts remained clear as he made his final preparations for Viserys.

Regardless of whether he could survive this ordeal, he would not be able to participate in this battle.

Viserys' expression was somber, and he nodded slightly.

"I know."

He and Robert Baratheon were destined to clash, a fact Viserys had understood for quite some time.

Previously, various reasons had forced Robert to allow the Targaryens to grow on the continent of Essos, but Viserys knew this grace period wouldn't last forever.

As the Targaryen power swelled, the man seated on the Iron Throne across the Narrow Sea grew increasingly uneasy.

Viserys knew Robert Baratheon to be a hot-tempered, fiery individual. If Robert learned that the Targaryens now had dragons, he wouldn't sit idly on the Iron Throne and await his demise.

He would choose to strike first, to snuff out the threat in its cradle.

"This battle has been destined from the start, hasn't it?"

Viserys sat by the old lord's bedside, holding the frail hand of the old man.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the young Targaryen's face, his long eyelashes, and the sharp contours of his cheeks.

He gave the old man's hand a tight squeeze before standing up, turning around, and leaving the sickroom.

"Your Grace."

The maester waiting outside bowed as Viserys emerged.

"He must be healed."

Viserys stared intently at the maester before him, issuing a rare command.

The maester's body trembled slightly as he bowed once more.

"Lord Jeorrey's age is advanced, but his constitution remains strong."

"There should be no issue."

"That's good."

"As long as that's the case, I leave it to you."

Viserys nodded and strode past the maester, his footsteps echoing as he descended the stairs.

With such an incident, Andalos had to actively prepare for war, guarding against a sudden attack from Baratheon, reminiscent of the War of the Nine Penny Kings.

Viserys' figure hurried away, and the maester exhaled softly. Watching Viserys disappear from sight, he straightened his robes before re-entering the sickroom.

...

Andalos was gearing up for war, staying on guard against any unexpected events.

Meanwhile, far away in King's Landing.

The king couldn't help but indulge in a few more drinks, and a tall, rotund man was swaying unsteadily before accidentally knocking over a jug of wine on the table, spilling the fine drink all over the floor.

A beautiful woman with golden hair and a regal air watched the scene coldly, her gaze not so much directed at her husband as it was at a wild boar.

However, this all came to a sudden halt when the drunken, half-naked man turned around with his cup in hand.

The woman's face returned to a perfectly balanced smile, neither overly cold nor so sickening as to make her want to vomit.

With a protruding belly and thick chest hair, Robert raised his cup, his face flushed red, and then he burst into laughter and exclaimed,

"By the Seven!"

"Stannis has not disappointed me once again."

The king's elation was naturally due to a victorious battle - the naval battle at Dragonstone was brilliantly executed. With the aid of House Targaryen, inside collaborators were bribed, and then a coordinated attack took place.

Had it not been for the experienced commander of the Dragonstone fleet decisively ordering a retreat, there would have been a risk of total annihilation.

It was a chance for Robert to get back at the Targaryens who had burned his entire fleet years ago.

As a reward, upon receiving news of the victory, Robert immediately granted Dragonstone to Stannis.

However, Stannis, who had just returned from his victory the previous night, did not seem too pleased upon hearing the news.

Stannis had never been to Dragonstone before and had held some expectations for the place.

After all, it was the starting point of Aegon's Conquest of Westeros, and it was rumored that Dragonstone held an unimaginable wealth, which he believed to be dragon eggs.

But Stannis' pleasant dreams were shattered when he set foot on Dragonstone, only to find it as barren as his own pockets.

As the king's brother, Stannis now had no lands to his name. The powerful royal fleet he commanded was under the name of his older brother, and he had no real claim to it. He didn't even have to demand payment for the troops, as it was fully funded by the Iron Throne.

However, Stannis still needed to support the knights and soldiers who had chosen to follow him.

When the three Baratheon brothers of Storm's End had divided their inheritance, Stannis, as a penalty for the defeat and annihilation of his army, was passed over as the first heir, with the lands falling to his younger brother Renly instead.

Nevertheless, a group of soldiers who had once defended Storm's End with Stannis chose to continue following him when he left.

This included the maester of Storm's End, Cressen.

"Lord Stannis,"

"Remember not to quarrel with your elder brother when you see him today."

The two hurried through the gardens of the Red Keep, with Maester Cressen offering his advice.

As a servant of Storm's End, Cressen had watched the three brothers grow up. The eldest, Robert, was hot-tempered, while the second, Stannis, was stubborn.

The two had clashing personalities, and every meeting would result in an argument.

"This time, we will merely discuss the possibility of dealing with the Targaryen remnants across the Narrow Sea."

Maester Cressen shook his head slightly at this.

"If we had known the current situation, we should have killed that mother and child who fled to Dragonstone at any cost."

Hearing the maester's words, Stannis' expression soured, but he said nothing.

Now, the Targaryen forces had revived, and they could no longer be exterminated by a single fleet.

According to the information currently available, to conquer Andalos, King Robert would need to gather at least 30,000 troops, hundreds of warships, and arrange supply lines along the way. Transporting supplies from the mainland was impractical, and it was best to gain the support of a Free City.

Moreover, as the defenders fighting against invasion, the farmers of Andalos could take up arms and join the war at any time.

The difficulty of conquering Andalos had risen exponentially; after all, the territory of Andalos now rivaled one of the Seven Kingdoms.

If this war were to break out, the burden on the entire nation would be no less than that of the Usurper's War once again.

"It's difficult..."

Chapter 151: Royal Council Meeting

Wishing to pursue victory and cross the sea to eliminate the remaining Targaryen forces was naturally King Robert's desire and something he believed to be his rightful duty. However, his idea met with resistance during the royal council meeting.

This was because His Majesty the King, who was only ever interested in spending money, never knew how much money he actually had left in his pocket, nor did he understand the extent of dissatisfaction that would arise from having to reorganize soldiers for battle immediately after the end of a war.

"Your Majesty, our treasury no longer has the funds to support a war of such a massive scale," said Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, who was still the first to step forward and advise.

The other council members, including the Master of Coin and the Master of Laws, all kept their heads down in silence, while Stannis, the Master of Ships, stared at the clean table, lost in thought.

Varys, the spymaster, had his hands crossed in his sleeves, glanced at the silent others, lingered on Stannis for a few moments, and then withdrew his gaze.

The entire council meeting fell into a very peculiar atmosphere, with everyone else remaining silent as if they were mute.

They all knew about King Robert's temper and that once he made a decision, not even seven oxen could pull him back. Only Lord Arryn's words would be heeded by the king, while their own advice would only be met with a torrent of abuse.

But this time, it seemed that King Robert was determined, and he didn't expect the Hand of the King to stand up and spout nonsense even on a matter as unequivocally correct and unquestionable as eliminating the remaining Targaryens.

If he couldn't be sure that his foster father would never collude with the Targaryens, he would even suspect that these people had long planned to betray him.

Robert's eyes widened like bronze bells, looking as if he were about to devour someone, and then he slammed the table.

"Lord Jon Arryn!"

"Why didn't you seek a loan from the Lannisters earlier if we had no money?"

"You know that Tywin, that old man, even shits gold!"

The knight standing outside the king's bedroom, wearing a snow-white cape and shining silver armor, could hear the conversation inside clearly.

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his face somewhat grim, and then he took a deep breath.

However, King Robert, who was in the council meeting, didn't care whether Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, was standing outside the door or if he had heard that sentence.

He even made Jaime stand guard outside the door when he shared a bed with his sister, making sure he heard his sister's moans, satisfying some perverse pleasure within Robert.

The old Lord of the Vale was also infuriated by Robert's unreasonable words, slamming the table and standing up from his chair.

"Your Majesty!"

"How can Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, be referred to so frivolously and disrespectfully!"

Jon Arryn felt as if smoke was about to come out of his nose, angered by the situation. Such words might be said in private, but how could they be uttered so recklessly during such an important event as the royal council meeting?

Especially with Tywin's son standing guard outside the door. If this news were to spread, to reach the outside world, or even the Westerlands, who knew what kind of ripple effect it would cause.

Would His Majesty the King insult the Warden of the West by saying that he even shits gold?

The great nobles of the realm were at odds, and King Robert was Tywin's son-in-law. The king's family affairs would be the subject of countless stories within Flea Bottom, causing unnecessary trouble.

Robert, seated on the Iron Throne, had spoken his mind in a moment of impulsiveness, especially when his plans to attack the Targaryen remnants were opposed. He quickly calmed down after being scolded by his foster father.

Robert was not a complete scoundrel; he knew who was a treacherous courtier and who would never betray him, always protecting him beneath their wings.

"Hmph," Robert grumbled as he sat back down on his chair, which creaked under his weight.

"Anyway... one way or another, the Targaryen remnants must be eradicated."

"Lord Jon Arryn, you must have seen the intelligence."

Robert filled his cup with wine from a jug on the table, his tone tinged with bitterness and sarcasm.

"I warned you..."

"I warned you long ago."

"That Targaryen bitch has hatched real dragons! Not a dog or a cat, but actual dragons!"

By the end of his rant, Robert's spittle was flying, and even the joy of victory at the Battle of Dragonstone had vanished.

He then drained his cup of wine.

Bam!

The cup slammed onto the table, and bloodshot eyes turned to the idle Master of Whisperers.

"Hmm?"

A muffled sound came from his nostrils.

Varys, who had been momentarily lost in thought, quickly reacted and shivered slightly before hurriedly chiming in.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"We cannot wait for the dragons to grow. We must take the initiative, or we will never be able to eliminate the Targaryen remnants once the dragons have grown."

Varys echoed the king's sentiments, and Robert nodded in satisfaction.

This was why he appreciated Varys, a former advisor to King Aerys II and one of the few still serving the Baratheon dynasty.

"Your Grace, actually... actually... dragons alone can't do much."

Jon Arryn felt a headache coming on, seemingly wanting to argue, but he found his voice faltering.

Even he couldn't muster the conviction to say such words, feeling like a traitor as he spoke.

He had seen the latest intelligence report. Daenerys Targaryen, the sister of the now-crowned Viserys and the last child of Aerys II, had emerged from a sudden fire with three young dragons in her arms.

This spelled trouble.

Though it was hard to believe, as dragons had been gone for so long and he hadn't seen them with his own eyes, Jon Arryn couldn't question the report's insistence on the existence of dragons.

While dragons weren't the sole factor in determining the outcome of a war, their presence could be overwhelming if the sides were evenly matched.

"Yes, dragons alone can't do much," Robert sneered sarcastically before bellowing, "But have you considered that Viserys has a bloody army of tens of thousands?!"

Chapter 152: The Loan

King Robert's roar was so loud that even the servants passing by in the corridor outside cast sidelong glances. Everyone present in the room was silent, and the only person who dared to voice opposition, the Hand of the King, was left speechless.

The Lord of the Eyrie argued that from a national perspective, should this war actually break out, it would place a tremendous burden on the entire realm. It could even potentially drag the Seven Kingdoms into a quagmire of war, causing nobles to become disloyal and the common people to rebel. At that point, the Targaryen prince wouldn't even need to cross the sea with his dragons; the Iron Throne's power would crumble on its own.

Of course, it wasn't impossible to support the army through war, but doing so required a profitable premise. Now, to wage a distant campaign across a vast sea to attack a not-so-wealthy city-state on another continent seemed ludicrous, like trying to rob the Dothraki.

The situation was somewhat similar to the War of the Ninepenny Kings during the reign of Jaehaerys II. At that time, the Hand of the King, Lord Mondaerys Baratheon, personally led an expedition to the Stepstones. After the final defeat of the Band of Nine, however, the Iron Throne's forces withdrew from the Stepstones, not daring to lay a claim on the land. Otherwise, they would have faced a joint embargo from the Nine Free Cities and possibly left none of the remaining men on the island able to return.

The Iron Throne's power was so great that the Free Cities couldn't accept them holding any enclaves on the Essos continent, not even a remote and unclaimed territory. If the Seven Kingdoms were to establish an enclave on Essos, they could spend just a few years cultivating it and stockpiling resources shipped from Westeros.

Then, if the Iron Throne ever intended to invade the Free Cities, countless armies and knights could board warships and cross the sea to Essos in an instant. For them, the most difficult problem of supply would have already been solved.

Now, the problem had circled back to its origin.

If the remnants of House Targaryen had only dragons and no army, it would be less worrisome. As Jon Arryn had said, if there were only dragons, they could do little. When Aegon the Conqueror invaded Westeros, he had dragons, but still suffered a crushing defeat in Dorne, losing a dragon and a sister in the process.

An army was the Iron Throne's most sensitive issue. The Targaryens had been winning consecutive battles on Essos, claiming vast tracts of land. Jon Arryn's advisor had previously predicted that the Free Cities wouldn't allow the Targaryens to expand so wildly and would join forces to annihilate them. However, this prediction was proven wrong in an instant. Now, Andalos was not a force that a single Free City could easily extinguish.

"Very well, Your Grace. If we truly want to cross the sea and attack Andalos, we have many urgent problems to resolve," said Jon Arryn, who didn't want to argue anymore. He felt that if he kept arguing, King Robert would suspect him of collusion.

In truth, not only King Robert but also Jon Arryn himself felt that they couldn't allow the Targaryens to keep expanding. Otherwise, it could lead to disastrous consequences. However, as the Hand of the King, Jon was second only to the king himself but had to deal with an indolent ruler.

Just because the king couldn't see certain issues didn't mean they didn't exist. The well-meaning Hand of the King, despite his age, was still running around taking care of matters, cleaning up after his ruler.

Then, the white-haired old Lord of the Eyrie began listing the pressing issues that needed to be resolved, one by one, counting them off on his fingers.

"First is the issue of supplies."

"Your Grace, if we wish to wage war against the Targaryens, we must have an ample supply of gold dragons."

"Currently, the Iron Throne is burdened with a debt of over four million gold dragons."

As Jon Arryn reached this point, he glanced at the Master of Coin. However, it was apparent that the man had been daydreaming and was not in the right state of mind, as he seemed slightly stunned and didn't react at once.

Varys, seated nearby, gently poked the Master of Coin and whispered a reminder.

"My lord?"

He tapped his finger on the spot over the Master of Coin's chest.

"Oh, oh..."

The Master of Coin immediately understood and hastily retrieved the backup ledger from his pocket, respectfully handing it over to the Hand of the King.

The old man, looking at his incompetent colleagues, couldn't help but feel helpless. The Master of Coin was as foolish as a pig, his only skill being borrowing money from others, signing any treaty as long as it provided funds. This had caused Jon Arryn no small amount of stress and irritation.

However, lately, the Master of Coin had been unable to secure any loans, and King Robert was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with him. In the king's eyes, the Master of Coin's primary duty was borrowing money, and it wouldn't be long before he was replaced.

At this thought, the image of a young, capable man appeared in Jon Arryn's mind. This man had a good relationship with his wife and was very competent.

Perhaps...

The white-haired Lord's heart stirred slightly. If the opportunity presented itself, he wouldn't mind choosing a capable assistant to help alleviate some of his burden.

However, he still needed to report to the king. Jon Arryn straightened his face and opened the ledger.

On the other hand, the Master of Coin, who had just been reminded by Varys, the spymaster, narrowly avoided making a fool of himself in front of the king and the Hand. He returned to his seat and offered Varys a grateful smile.

Varys, with his hands crossed inside his sleeves, nodded in response, showing a friendly smile.

Court politics were difficult, and it was essential to help each other out.

The Master of Coin was increasingly feeling the weight of King Robert's dissatisfaction and was now treading on thin ice.

"Huh?"

However, at that moment, the Master of Coin froze, only just realizing a question.

How did Varys know that his ledger was in his chest pocket?

...

On the other side, the Hand of the King, seated to the left of the king, had begun to report the current state of the realm's finances and the remaining gold dragons in the treasury.

Now, the Iron Throne was burdened with a debt of over four million gold dragons, not because of the Master of Coin's competence, but due to the expenses incurred during the restoration of order after the rebellion and King Robert's reckless spending.

Additionally, because they needed to borrow more money, the Iron Throne had taken on the debts owed to the Iron Bank during the Targaryen era, which was also a considerable sum.

These various factors contributed to the debt of four million gold dragons.

Half of the debt was owed to the Lannister family, with the remainder borrowed from the Tyrells, the Iron Bank of Braavos, several trading companies in Myr, and even the Faith.

Jon Arryn closed the ledger, his wrinkled face solemn.

"Your Grace."

"Although there are some unconfirmed connections between Braavos and the remnants of the Targaryens."

"The true purpose of Braavos' actions is to prevent the Seven Kingdoms from uniting completely and to stir the waters."

The sharp-eyed Lord of the Eyrie was incisive and straight to the point.

"We must secure a loan from the Iron Bank to win this war, regardless of how harsh the terms and interest rates may be."

"As for whether we repay it in the future, that can be discussed at that time."

Jon Arryn was willing to go all-out to win this war.

The Iron Bank eyed its interest, and the Iron Throne eyed its principal.

If they won, there would be no need to repay the loan, and if they lost, there would be no need to repay it either.

Chapter 153: Struggle

"Besides money, the most important thing is the manpower."

After Jon Arryn finished discussing the loan issue, the task was handed over to the Master ofFinance.

"Understood, Lord Arryn."

The plump Master ofFinance, sitting to the right of King Robert, hurriedly pushed his chair back with great effort due to his large belly, and then stood up to accept the task.

If the Hand of the King was the king's most important right-hand man, the Master ofFinance held the second most important position, just below the Hand of the King.

Although the old Lord was dedicated to his duties, he couldn't personally handle everything. At his age, sailing for over a month to Braavos might cost him half his life.

"Your Majesty."

"Not long ago, we called for the suppression of the Iron Islands rebellion. Now, it's not easy to mobilize the soldiers once again."

"Once the loan is in place and rewards have been disbursed, we still need your efforts..."

Although the king was a fool, his generous nature and disregard for trivial matters gave him a strong charisma.

He was particularly popular among the lower-ranking soldiers. During the War of the Usurpers, Robert didn't mind sleeping in ditches with the soldiers, sharing their unpalatable food, and even fighting alongside them on the front lines.

In this regard, King Robert was actually quite similar to Viserys, who had high prestige within the Andalos Legion.

Apart from the various noble titles, bloodlines, and religious auras surrounding him, and his record of never losing a battle, there was another reason.

He never put on airs and had great charisma. Apart from the crown on his head, his clothing and appearance were not much different from that of ordinary people.

For Viserys, simple and clean clothes were enough. On the contrary, he disliked the elaborate attire he had to wear for important occasions.

Various belts and decorations on his body made him look like a human-shaped lightbulb...

He didn't need fancy clothes to elevate his status or differentiate himself from the common people.

However, Viserys' elder brother, Prince Rhaegar, had a slightly better reputation among the nobles.

One was a grassroots fighter in the mud, and the other was a high and mighty silver peacock.

In the Red Keep's council meeting, preparations for the anticipated war began.

...

Meanwhile, in the distant Andalos.

A month had quietly passed.

A light autumn rain was approaching.

Viserys stood on a lookout tower in the castle, his hands on the cold, hard window, overlooking the vast expanse of Andalos below.

This was the miraculous city he had built in just over six years. It started with having soldiers construct a simple wooden castle, then relocating the surrounding Andal villages through persuasion, incentives, and even violent threats, eventually forming the prototype of Andalos.

Since then, Viserys had watched it expand gradually, ultimately growing to its current scale. From above, he could see the roads stretching in all directions, the neatly arranged houses, taverns, brothels, inns, and even a few local merchant guilds that had been established.

.

However...

Viserys looked down at the city he had created with his own hands, and suddenly thought of the nine-tiered palace and the colossal red temple he had seen in Pentos, as well as the Seawater Palace in Braavos and the Titan of Braavos. A small desire stirred within him.

He wondered whether he should build a wonder in Andalos as well?

To boost the people's sense of belonging, pride, and unity.

However, this idea merely flitted through Viserys' mind before disappearing without a trace.

Poverty remained the root of all evil.

Afterwards, the young king leaned against the battlements, sighed deeply, and turned around to face the man standing behind him, wearing a metal mask.

The man was extremely thin and wrapped tightly from head to toe. Except for the two openings for his eyes in the mask, every inch of his skin was covered, including his neck, which was wound with white gauze, revealing nothing.

He stood in an odd posture, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily as if struggling with himself, trying to stand up straight.

Viserys stood in place, gazing at this once brave and skilled knight who had now fallen to such a state. A sense of pity filled his eyes, and he opened his mouth several times wanting to say something, but ultimately swallowed the words of consolation.

"Bessie."

"Your survival is truly a miracle."

This man, completely wrapped and wearing a metal mask, was none other than Viserys' personal guard, the son of an Andal warrior with a seven-pointed star engraved on his shoulder, Bessie.

Although Bessie had survived a terrifying disaster, it was a miracle in itself that he had lived. However, his remaining days were destined to be spent unable to wield a sword again, a broken man.

After narrowly escaping death, Bessie was not content to spend the rest of his life bedridden. When Viserys visited him, Bessie made a request.

He hoped to continue serving as the king's guard, believing that he could stand up again and become a useful person, asking for a chance from his king.

At that time, Viserys held Bessie's charred and cracked hand, and saw a certain persistence in his eyes.

In the end, Viserys nodded in agreement.

However, although Bessie had survived, the road to truly standing up again was long and arduous.

Hearing Viserys' voice, the struggling knight raised his head slightly and spoke with a raspy, labored breath.

"My survival is not a miracle, Your Grace."

"It's because the gods above deemed me useful and protected me, the merciful Mother..."

Bessie wanted to continue his lengthy explanation, but Viserys had already heard his story several times before.

Bessie was a devout follower of the Seven, with the seven-pointed star engraved on his shoulder as a testament to his status as a warrior's son chosen by his village.

During the great fire, he had rushed in alone, trying to save his mother and Daenerys. But as soon as he entered the inferno, he became disoriented in the thick smoke. Eventually, Bessie was knocked down by a falling ceiling panel.

Fortunately, the panel provided him with some insulation and space, allowing him to be rescued in the end.

Trapped in a small corner, suffocating and on the verge of unconsciousness, he prayed to the Seven.

Thus, he firmly believed that the reason for his miraculous survival was that the Seven had heard his prayers and ultimately saved his life.

...

Chapter 154: The Feudal System

A light drizzle persisted.

Subsequently, Viserys, accompanied by Bessie who was practicing walking, descended from the castle to send him back for rest.

He wouldn't need to attend the rest of the festivities, focusing on rest instead.

Viserys, having had nothing to do earlier, decided to visit his most loyal followers.

...

Half a month ago.

A maester received a letter from the Citadel across the sea.

The letter was penned by his mentor, the foremost Westerosi astronomer Archmaester Verlin. Apart from catching up, he also informed his pupil and the lord he served:

Autumn has arrived.

Since the Citadel declared the Red Comet as the 'sword that kills the season,' the Westerosi season transitioned from spring to summer.

At that time, Viserys was still fighting in the bloody battlefield of Groat's Hollow. Now, after experiencing numerous events, leading victorious armies back to his homeland, the defeat in the Battle of Dragonstone, and preparing for war...

Perhaps only the busy farmers noticed that the weather was gradually getting colder, and autumn was slowly approaching.

The Citadel would send such letters announcing seasonal changes every year and season. Ordinary lords, unfamiliar with calendars and astronomy, relied on the Citadel to notify them of seasonal changes. The lords would then instruct the farmers in their territories on what to do during each season.

As a result, the functioning of many places in Westeros depended on the Citadel's influence. As the gathering place for Westeros' most knowledgeable scholars, it held great significance.

In truth, Archmaester Verlin's primary reason for writing to his pupil was to reminisce.

The letter had arrived in Essos over a month after crossing the ocean, and even later into the maester's hands.

However, the traditional Harvest Feast could begin with this opportunity.

As one of the few holidays in Westeros, Andalos also had such traditions.

Many Westerosi cultures originated from the Andals and the Rhoynar. In fact, tracing back to the roots, this was the birthplace of many Westerosi cultures.

When the maester announced the arrival of autumn, wise people began storing a portion of their crops.

As the region's largest lord, it was natural to hold a traditional Harvest Feast. Due to the long distances and difficulties in traveling, the feast often became a rare opportunity for lords and their vassals to meet.

As the King of Andalos, Viserys announced the first Harvest Feast to celebrate the harvest and consolidate the people's hearts.

Soon after, the newly ennobled lords, who had been granted land to build castles and territories, hurriedly gathered in Andalos.

As the first group of nobles, they hadn't yet severed ties with the commoners, and their interactions were casual and boisterous.

Now, Viserys sat on the highest throne in the castle, while the great hall below was filled with tables for the first time. The new nobles sat nonchalantly on their chairs, accompanied by their wives and children.

The castle's servants were exceptionally busy today. Dish after dish emerged from the kitchen. Each course first required Viserys to take a bite, and only then were the other nobles at the tables permitted to eat.

Desserts and cakes before the meal, various red wines, bread with butter, honey-glazed roast chicken, large chunks of stewed wild boar, goose stuffed with berries, barley venison soup, salmon, and gigantic lobsters, and so on...

An array of dishes filled the table, dazzling the eyes of those present.

The atmosphere at the harvest feast was lively, with people occasionally shouting, "Long live Andalos!" and others raising their glasses, exclaiming, "Long live Viserys!"

Viserys, however, merely offered a slight smile in response, raising his own glass for a sip, his gaze remaining calm as he observed the bustling scene below.

His sister Daenerys sat on his left, while Rhaenys occupied his right, dressed in a magnificent gown, her youthful beauty adorned with a radiant smile.

The feudal system of Andalos appeared to share a similar shell with that of Westeros.

However, the two systems were fundamentally different.

The key distinction lay in the ownership of land.

Though the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms and the ultimate jurisdiction and supreme authority in every aspect theoretically belonged to the king, the king of Westeros was constrained by the political realities of the realm and could not exercise his will freely.

For example, the king could not interfere in the affairs of the Westerlands without first consulting the Warden of the West and the lord of Casterly Rock, the Lannister family, or requesting their involvement.

If the Lannisters decided to protect a particular house, the king had no other options but to compromise politically, go to war, or give up.

Even a king could lose his position and face death if he failed in the game of power.

In essence, the king was the largest noble with his own lands, temporarily occupying his position with the support of other major nobles.

If the king offended the majority of the other nobles in the realm, they could unite to overthrow him.

As had happened to Viserys' father, the "Mad King" Aerys Targaryen II. To the common folk, the changing banners atop the castle walls were simply the concern of the nobility; they cared not whether a Baratheon or a Targaryen sat on the Iron Throne, only about their next meal.

In Andalos, however, things were different.

Although Viserys granted noble titles and each noble governed a village or town, with the right to pass on their title to their descendants, the ultimate ownership of the land still belonged to the king – Viserys could revoke the title of any errant noble with a single word, executing them or reducing them to commoners.

These newly ennobled individuals did not possess actual ownership of the land, only the right to rule and make decisions within their territories, but even this power was subject to the king's supreme jurisdiction.

Moreover, they had to pay a specified portion of their income as taxes, and only then could they enjoy the remaining benefits.

As for the commoners, they were obliged to serve in the Andalosian legions.

These legions maintained garrisons throughout the realm, with their highest command held by Viserys, completely detached from the local nobility.

The nobles were allowed to build castles and maintain private armies, but the size of these forces was strictly limited, serving only to maintain order and defend their castles.

Viserys commanded immense prestige among the common folk and the legions, who identified more with him than the nobles appointed over them.

As a result, the new system of enfeoffment proceeded smoothly.

Moreover, these newly raised nobles had once been ordinary citizens who had distinguished themselves on the battlefield or through other channels and had been ennobled by Viserys.

Suddenly elevated from humble origins to nobility, they were grateful for their new status and naturally had no objections during the process of enfeoffment.

Otherwise, Viserys wouldn't hesitate to strip them of their titles and remove their chance to rise to nobility, relegating them back to the status of commoners.

Chapter 155: Harvest Feast

However, the current feudal system in Andalos mainly stemmed from the fact that it lacked a deeply rooted noble tradition like that of Westeros.

The ancient Andal and Rhoynar kingdoms on this land had long been crushed by the Valyrian Freehold.

Many of the Andal and Rhoynar nobles of that time either died or fled, with a large number of them escaping to Westeros.

Later, city-states like Norvos, which were vassals to the Valyrian Freehold, began to emerge on this land.

Finally, after the Valyrian Freehold fell due to the 'Doom of Valyria,' they all became independent free trading city-states.

Due to these reasons, the cultures and traditions of the two peoples experienced a severe break, and the ancient nobility disappeared, leaving only the villages that had lived on this land for generations, never to be reunited.

Thus, Viserys encountered little resistance from traditional feudal forces when establishing the new system.

Although the size of Andalos can now rival that of a region, it is still within controllable limits. As the kingdom's territory rapidly expands, there may be a future possibility that central orders cannot reach remote areas, leading to a loss of control over borders.

However, these are not the issues Viserys needs to consider at the moment. What he needs to do now is to unite Andalos as much as possible to form a strong front, in preparation for the challenge from the Iron Throne.

Instead of dispersing his power like the Seven Kingdoms, which ultimately led to their fragmentation.

...

At the Harvest Feast, the newly emerging nobles on this land mingled and formed connections.

After everyone had their fill of food and drink, the servants cleared away the leftovers and piled all the tables to one side, transforming the entire hall into a ballroom in an instant.

A series of prepared performances followed, including singing and dancing, acrobatics, clowns, and even a magic show.

Sitting not far from Viserys, the red-robed priestess watched quietly as a red-robed monk below performed the act of spewing fire from his mouth.

The red-robed monk's attire was loose with large sleeves. He danced and pranced around, making movements akin to jumping rope, and then subtly covered part of his face with his sleeves. His movements were so swift and discreet that no one noticed what he did. He then lowered his sleeves.

The next second.

Whoosh~

A jet of red flame spewed out, and the intense firelight illuminated everyone's faces, causing many ladies present to gasp in surprise.

Rhaenys covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes filled with astonishment and disbelief. In her eyes, this was nothing short of a miracle. Wasn't it only dragons that could breathe fire?

"Viserys, is this man a dragon?"

After the initial shock, Rhaenys excitedly patted Viserys' thigh and asked curiously.

"It's just a folk technique."

Viserys shook his head slightly, as he was not surprised by this kind of acrobatics, having seen it many times in his previous life.

Not far away, Melisandre seemed to have heard their whispers and turned her head to look at Viserys and Rhaenys. However, her focus lingered on Rhaenys for a moment before she withdrew her gaze thoughtfully.

The red-robed monk who had just finished performing below bowed slightly to the king on stage, gestured to the red-robed priestess, and then stepped back.

Those who had seen the followers of the Lord of Light perform these tricks remained composed, while those who had never seen such a spectacle before were exclaiming in excitement. It seemed that this performance had indeed opened their eyes.

After the performance ended, it was time for the ball.

The orchestra, which had just finished performing, returned with a new set of music and costumes, and once again began to play their instruments.

.

Accompanied by the melodious music, servants walked in carrying cups of fine wine, while the nobles below each found a dance partner and gracefully began to dance. Some of the nobles even pulled a serving girl, who was pouring wine, to be their impromptu dance partner.

Viserys sipped from his cup of milk, which had a few red specks floating on top, watching the scene below with his pair of light purple eyes, remaining undisturbed.

This was one of the differences between him and his older brother, Prince Rhaegar. Viserys had no talent for music or dancing.

At this moment, Viserys noticed several older, middle-aged nobles attempting to invite Melisandre to dance with them. However, the Red Priestess politely declined their offers.

Then, sitting beside him, Rhaenys impulsively decided to take Viserys's hand, wanting to dance with him.

Viserys was slightly taken aback, but unable to resist the expectant gaze of the brunette girl, he eventually followed Rhaenys onto the dance floor.

Although their dancing wasn't great, they still earned a round of applause from the crowd.

Soon, the harvest feast was coming to an end.

After Viserys and the other nobles raised a toast together, a guard hurried to his side and whispered a few words in his ear.

"Oh?"

"Such a thing?"

Viserys then stood up from his seat.

"Viserys, what happened?"

Rhaenys looked at him curiously, about to stand up and follow him, but Viserys held her back.

"It's nothing, stay here."

"I have a small matter to attend to."

Viserys then followed the guard out of the great hall.

Step by step...

The quiet corridor was completely different from the hustle and bustle of the great hall, with only the footsteps of the guard and Viserys echoing.

"Where is the child?"

Viserys's expression was calm. In the castle corridor, torches burned, illuminating half of his face, while the other half remained shrouded in darkness.

"Your Grace, this way."

The guard led the way and explained as they walked.

"Just now, my fellow guard and I were on duty outside the main gate when a child appeared out of nowhere and threw a letter tied to a stone, then turned and ran."

"But we caught up to him quickly, captured the little rascal, and then he said this letter was meant for you."

Step by step...

The sound of their footsteps echoed in the corridor as they walked and talked, gradually fading away.

As Viserys listened to the guard's story, he frowned slightly, feeling that the situation seemed like a prank.

"Where did this child get this letter?"

The guard didn't hesitate to answer, as they had already asked the child when they caught him.

"At a place called the Silver Eel Inn, Your Grace."

"A mysterious man gave the child a few silver stags, asking him to deliver this letter to you."

Chapter 156: A Letter

Soon after.

Two figures appeared inside the castle gate, only to find the guards here holding torches, seemingly searching for something.

Upon seeing Viserys approach, the guards' faces immediately showed expressions of shame.

"Apologies, Your Majesty..."

Without saying much, Viserys already understood what had happened.

It seemed that the child they had just caught had slipped away once again.

"No matter, it's just a child."

"Is the letter still here?"

Viserys shook his head slightly, believing that the child was, at most, a mere errand runner, and capturing him wouldn't hold much significance.

"Yes."

The guard then handed over the letter that was meant to be personally opened by Viserys.

Without any hesitation, Viserys reached out and took it, knowing that if there had been any poison on it, it would have been rubbed off by now after passing through so many hands.

He decisively tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

There was a lot of content in the letter, with densely packed words covering the page.

However, after just a few glances, the calm expression on Viserys' face vanished, and he became slightly serious.

"What?"

The silver-haired youth's brow furrowed.

Under the torches held high by the surrounding guards, Viserys' eyes scanned every sentence on the letter, eventually reading it in its entirety.

"If the contents of this letter are true..."

Viserys held the letter in silence, not speaking a word. The guards around him did not know what had happened and stared at Viserys lost in thought before softly reminding him.

"Your Majesty?"

Viserys finally came back to his senses and looked up at one of the guards.

"Do you remember the appearance of that child just now?"

The guard nodded hastily.

"Continue searching until you find him."

Viserys waved his hand.

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Upon hearing Viserys' command, the expressions of the castle guards became slightly tense.

They didn't know why the king had just said to let the child go, but after reading the letter, he immediately wanted to catch him.

Nevertheless, they hurried off to continue their search for the child who had slipped away.

Viserys didn't explain his actions, nor did he need to explain himself to these soldiers.

The cool night breeze blew Viserys' silver-gold hair, and after a moment of contemplation, he turned to another guard and instructed.

"Proceed discreetly, and verify each item in the letter."

Viserys ordered the guard to investigate a few things, and all had to be done in secrecy.

Although the guard was somewhat puzzled, he nodded decisively, understanding the instructions, and hurried off to prepare.

...

Meanwhile, in the great hall of the castle.

Although the harvest feast was nearing its end, the lively atmosphere remained.

When Viserys was present, they couldn't let loose as much, but as soon as Viserys had left for an unknown reason, the atmosphere in the hall became much livelier.

...

Perhaps the many watchful eyes of His Majesty the King have made it difficult for people to let loose, but the atmosphere has improved significantly now.

The Red Priestess Melisandre had somehow moved her chair next to Rhaenys, and the two seemed to be in conversation.

Daenerys, meanwhile, was completely focused on eating and drinking to her heart's content, even sneaking a sip of red wine from the cup of Oberyn's paramour.

The maester sat quietly by himself, appearing somewhat out of place amid the surrounding revelry.

His meal was simple, and he did not partake in any wine.

The maester seemed to be off his game today, feeling strangely restless. He had glanced several times at the seat where Viserys should be, but it remained empty.

Viserys had been away for quite some time now, but there was still no sign of his return, and it was unclear what special circumstances had arisen.

At that moment, several guards entered the bustling hall, bowed slightly to Rhaenys and Melisandre, and seemed to relay some information.

Melisandre offered an apologetic smile, and then politely excused herself from the table.

Only then did the guard whisper something into Rhaenys' ear.

"Hm?"

The brunette girl's face revealed a puzzled expression, and she turned to the guard for confirmation.

Despite receiving a very affirmative answer from the guard, the girl hesitated before nodding her head.

Rhaenys then rose from her seat, walked over to Daenerys, who was still eating messily, and pulled her up.

Ignoring the young girl's protests, she discarded the half-eaten chicken leg in her hand and forcefully wiped the grease from her mouth with a clean handkerchief.

Rhaenys then scolded Daenerys in a low voice, probably for her lack of restraint in eating, given her noble status and lineage.

She must maintain the dignity of a princess.

With that, Rhaenys led Daenerys away from their seats, heading toward the main entrance.

The guard who had just arrived informed Rhaenys that the King had requested her and Daenerys to step out for a moment, but did not provide any further details.

Rhaenys was puzzled, but since Viserys had requested it, she decided to take Daenerys with her.

The nobles, who were enjoying the festivities, noticed Rhaenys leading Daenerys through the crowd, and raised their cups in salute.

"Princess Rhaenys."

Their gazes then shifted to the girl whose hand Rhaenys was holding, her hair hidden beneath a hat, and their eyes filled with reverence.

"Mother of Dragons."

Ever since news spread of Daenerys emerging unscathed from a fire while cradling three dragons, the Targaryen princess had gained a sacred title.

'Mother of Dragons'

Combined with her brother Viserys being dubbed 'Crowned by the Seven Gods,' this title added an air of mystery to their already prestigious Targaryen bloodline, further solidifying their reputation in the public's mind.

As if they were divinely chosen.

Facing the saluting nobles, Rhaenys offered a polite, dignified smile.

She then nodded, and led Daenerys through the crowd, following the guards out of the door and disappearing from sight.

The maester, still seated in his place, watched Rhaenys and Daenerys leave, feeling his unease intensify for some unknown reason. He seemed lost in thought, accidentally dropping his fork on the ground with a clatter.

Melisandre, who had returned to her seat, glanced over at him curiously.

She remembered that this maester had always been composed and calm, so why was he so absent-minded and frequently losing his composure today?

She then saw the maester stand up, seemingly intending to follow Rhaenys out of the hall.

In an instant, the main table was left with only Oberyn, his paramour Ellaria Sand, and Melisandre.

After offering an apologetic smile to those still seated, the maester prepared to leave.

However, before he could turn around, two guards appeared out of nowhere and firmly pushed him back into his chair.

"Maester Gunther, I'm afraid you won't be able to leave just yet."

Chapter 157: Poisoned Wine

The sudden change of events in the hall did not draw the attention of the nobles below, who were busy drinking and toasting. It seemed like a minor interlude as two guards pushed the maester back into his chair.

At this point, the maester did not struggle. His palms trembled slightly, and large beads of sweat slid down his cheeks. He seemed to already know what had happened and resignedly gave up on resisting.

"Hmm?"

Oberyn, who was sitting at the same table, noticed the scene and his eyes narrowed.

He looked at the maester with surprise, as well as the two guards who controlled him from behind.

Ellaria Sand, the paramour sitting next to Oberyn, gently poked him and covered her mouth as she leaned in close to his ear, seemingly asking him in a whisper what was going on.

However, Oberyn just shook his head, not saying much, and told her not to meddle. She just needed to watch quietly to find out.

On the other side, the red-robed priestess, Melisandre, also said nothing. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, glancing at the maester and then at Oberyn's reaction.

Afterward, the Red Priestess looked in the direction Rhaenys and Daenerys had left, her eyes revealing a thoughtful expression.

Everyone seated at the table was part of Andalos' upper echelon. After Rhaenys and Daenerys, two young girls, left the table, the remaining individuals were all seasoned and cunning.

Sir Joffrey, who needed to recuperate, did not attend the banquet. However, those in the know understood that the old lord's health was not improving and he might be considering relinquishing power. Several noble families wanted to compete for the position of Fleet Commander.

At the moment, everyone at the main table remained silent, not speaking up for the maester who was clearly being controlled.

Even Prince Oberyn, who had a decent relationship with Maester Gunther and was considered a fellow alumnus, said nothing. The maester alone sat in his seat, wiping the cold sweat from his trembling hands and keeping his head down, not saying a word.

He knew he had been exposed and had given up on even trying to defend himself.

The maester had a sense of crisis long ago and originally intended to leave Andalos for Dragonstone. When Dragonstone fell, he planned to return directly to Westeros.

But he never expected Stannis to betray him.

Stannis wouldn't let an expendable person like the maester affect his battle plans. Even if the maester's status wasn't much different from his own, Stannis was stubborn and didn't find him useful.

Stannis had planned the surprise attack on Dragonstone for years. He had repeatedly analyzed the situation and managed to bribe a portion of the Dragonstone fleet's officers.

The Dragonstone navy had once inflicted the most humiliating defeat of his career. The newly built royal fleet had been annihilated in his hands without even fighting a battle.

As a result, the stubborn Stannis had set his sights on the Dragonstone fleet and its commander, vowing to redeem himself.

So, how could a spy hidden in Andalos affect Stannis's battle plan?

Stannis didn't even care about such a petty individual, regardless of their noble bloodline. He wouldn't let one person delay his opportunity.

Therefore,

The maester didn't have the "privilege" of knowing about the surprise attack on the royal fleet beforehand. He didn't make it to Dragonstone in time and was instead abandoned in Andalos.

Because of this, the maester had been living in fear since the day Dragonstone fell. Every time he saw Viserys, he couldn't help but feel terrified, afraid that his actions had been discovered and that he would be executed.

However, much time had passed since then, and the maester initially thought the matter was behind him.

It wasn't until recently that he noticed some seemingly non-existent guards and servants lingering around his maester's tower. He then realized that Viserys had not given up on investigating Mirri Maz Duur and the past incident of his letters being read by someone.

Now,

The maester sat in his seat, unable to speak, as the people around him remained silent. With a heavy heart, he knew that his secret had been exposed, and there was no turning back.

The situation had come to light.

The maester knew that he had been targeted by Viserys for some time, and now any attempt at explanation or defense would likely be in vain.

Deciding to maintain his last shred of dignity, he neither begged Viserys for mercy nor asked Oberyn to put in a good word for him. Instead, he sat quietly in his chair, waiting for judgment to befall him.

Not too long after,

The celebrations continued below.

A soldier carried a tray with a cup of fine wine, placing it before the maester.

"Maester Gunther, this is the fine wine His Majesty has bestowed upon you."

The crystal-clear wine rippled gently, casting beautiful colors in the exquisite glass. Yet in the maester's eyes, this cup of wine was akin to a venomous snake hissing at him.

"What?"

Witnessing this scene, Oberyn couldn't help but feel incredulous. He hadn't expected things to escalate to this point.

What exactly had happened, and what mistake had Gunther made to incite such fury from Viserys?

As Oberyn prepared to say something, Maester Gunther didn't give him the chance.

The maester, in his thirties, shakily held the cup of wine, his voice trembling.

"Thank you... Your Majesty... for the fine wine."

Without further ado, he tilted his head back and drained the cup in one gulp.

Smash—

The wine glass shattered on the floor, making a crisp sound. The luxurious glass instantly broke into pieces, scattering shards everywhere, and the noise echoed throughout the hall.

"Huh?"

"What happened?"

The music and dancing below came to an abrupt halt, and the celebrating nobles were unaware of what had transpired.

It wasn't until they saw the armed guards converging around the throne that they realized something significant had occurred.

The maester drank the poisoned wine, shattered the glass, and then sat silently in his chair, head lowered, awaiting death.

He didn't have to wait long.

The next moment,

Excruciating pain, like being stabbed by a thousand knives, emanated from his abdomen. The maester's face instantly turned a deep shade of crimson.

His eyes widened, and his body began to convulse violently. The chair he sat on made a loud noise due to his spasms.

Splash—

Soup and wine on the table splashed out.

Melisandre delicately pulled back her red robe, calmly leaving her seat. Oberyn also moved away with his mistress, distancing themselves from the convulsing maester.

And in the next second,

Spurt—

Blood gushed from the maester's orifices as he convulsed, staining his clothes crimson. And then he stopped moving altogether.

Chapter 158: Gillyan Lannister

"Maester... dead?"

"What...what...what exactly happened?"

The nobles below instantly burst into an uproar, not knowing what had happened, thinking that it was a despicable poisoning incident.

However, at this moment, they saw the maester bleeding from his orifices and then becoming motionless.

Clang—

A guard drew the dagger from his waist, using the gleaming sharp tip to lift the maester's chin, manipulating the now limp head to confirm that the man was thoroughly dead before finally putting his mind at ease.

Slap—

Then, he sheathed the dagger and looked towards the noisy nobles below, finally opening his mouth to explain.

"Lords and ladies."

"This 'Maester Gunther' is actually Gillyan Lannister."

The guard pointed to the limp body of 'Maester Gunther' slumped in the chair and spoke loudly, instantly silencing the confused and noisy nobles below.

Upon hearing the castle guard speak, the noisy voices below quickly subsided.

Then, everyone exchanged glances, not understanding the meaning of the guard's words.

Lannister?

They seemed to have heard this name before; it seemed to be the surname of the Lord of Casterly Rock across the Narrow Sea.

"What does it mean that Maester Gunther's real name is Gillyan Lannister?"

A noble below asked, puzzled.

The guard's gaze swept over all the nobles present, not rushing to answer. He waited until everyone was completely quiet before continuing.

"The real Maester Gunther was killed on the way to Dragonstone."

"Gillyan and the Lannister family conspired against the maester, impersonating him and coming to Dragonstone."

"He committed numerous crimes, colluding with usurpers, leaking confidential information, and even murdering the magical and mystical advisor, Miss Mirri Maz Duur."

"Your Majesty, considering past favors, granted him a cup of poison to let him end his own life."

...

Inside the great hall.

The maester took the poison himself and then fell dead.

On the other side.

Several castle servants were desperately prostrating at Viserys' feet, hoping the king would be merciful and spare their lives.

Viserys, however, seemed not to hear them, holding a diary found in 'Maester Gunther's' room, flipping through the contents, and remaining somewhat silent.

The few servants kneeling on the ground were bought by 'Maester Gunther' and participated in the conspiracy to murder Mirri Maz Duur.

Although the witch possessed extraordinary power, she was still just a slightly out-of-shape woman with no combat abilities.

That night, these servants ambushed her, tied her up with ropes, gagged her, and took her to where the three young dragons were being kept. They doused her in oil and set her ablaze.

No one knew why he had arranged for these people to do this, except for the maester himself.

Perhaps it was to eliminate a witch from the Targaryen camp and frame another witch who wanted to join in.

Because Melisandre had admitted to Rhaenys that Melisandre was a genuine witch, even more powerful than her, and at that time, the maester was also present.

Mirri was captured and burned to death, with the blame pinned on another R'hllor priest skilled in using fire.

At the same time, Rhaenys was led to believe that Balerion, the black dragon, had inexplicably burned Mirri alive with dragonfire, perhaps because Mirri had attempted to steal a dragon. After all, it was strange for her to be near the dragon pit in the dead of night.

Then, the blame was intentionally placed on Melisandre.

This way, the suspicions and motives surrounding Mirri Maz Duur would be dispelled, and Balerion would be confirmed to have a wild, untamable nature. By exploiting Rhaenys' inherent kindness, she would be persuaded to control the three dragons herself.

Once the three young dragons were restrained, it would be easier for him to carry out his subsequent actions. Otherwise, approaching the dragons could result in being burned alive by dragonfire.

Furthermore, even if Viserys returned one day, he would not blame him, as this was Rhaenys' doing.

In the ideal scenario of 'Maester Gunthor', or rather, Gillyan Lannister's plan...

Mirri Maz Duur, the witch, would be dead.

The three young dragons would be locked up.

Rhaenys would attempt to clear Balerion's name by executing Red Priestess Melisandre for murder, thus silencing her.

Three birds with one stone.

However, the final outcome may not have been entirely according to 'Maester Gunthor's' wishes.

Although Rhaenys was young and her mind not fully matured, she was not as easily manipulated as he had imagined.

Rhaenys did not lock up the three dragons out of fear that they would cause more trouble.

Nor did she kill Melisandre to silence her. Instead, she merely placed her under house arrest in a prison, receiving special treatment and being well-fed and well-cared for.

Viserys read through the diary left behind by 'Maester Gunthor', appearing calm on the surface. His fingers gently tapped on the armrest of his chair, producing a particularly clear sound in the quiet room. However, no one knew what Viserys was truly thinking.

The diary also recorded 'Maester Gunthor's' real identity – Gillyan Lannister, the third brother of Tywin Lannister.

His older brother was Tywin Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock, while his second brother was Kevan Lannister, and his third brother was Tygett Lannister.

Since his position in the line of succession was distant, Gillyan knew he had no claim to the family's legacy. Like Oberyn, he also attended the Citadel for a time.

However, his lively and impulsive nature meant that Jaime and Tyrion enjoyed playing with their uncle as children. As a result, Gillyan left the Citadel after only a few years.

At that time, Oberyn was still young and had not yet arrived at the Citadel, so the two never crossed paths.

At the age of eighteen, Gillyan sailed on the Laughing Lion from Lannisport to search for the lost Lannister family Valyrian steel sword, 'Brightroar', and to explore the legendary 'Smoking Sea' and the 'Cursed Lands', hoping to find treasures that had survived the Valyrian Doom.

Ten years passed, and Gillyan never returned home.

It was only after the Usurper's War ended.

He sent a fine dagger with a gilded blade, an ivory handle, and a sapphire pommel as a wedding gift to congratulate King Robert and his niece Cersei.

He also heard that his second brother Kevan Lannister had died tragically while pursuing the remaining Targaryens, with his death so gruesome that his head was nearly lost.

So, after many years away, Gillyan returned to his homeland, volunteering to avenge his second brother.

Because he had not been seen in his hometown for many years, many people no longer recognized Gillyan.

Thus, that year, he 'replaced' the real Maester Gunthor and headed to Dragonstone.

Chapter 159: Little Bird

The maester's diary was discovered in a hidden safe concealed beneath a stone slab in his bedroom.

It was very well-hidden, and more importantly, nobody would normally enter the maester's room.

The maester claimed to have poisonous substances in his room and warned all the servants to stay away, saying that he could clean up by himself.

As a result, no servant would ever enter the maester's room.

It was only after Viserys received an anonymous letter that he decided to secretly search the maester's room.

The soldiers then found a movable stone slab under the maester's bed, and upon removing it, discovered a safe.

This diary was hidden in that safe, along with a transparent substance, suspected to be the poison "Tears of Lys."

Perhaps Gillyan Lannister intended to use this expensive poison to kill Viserys or his dragons.

However, Gillyan might not have found the right opportunity, and poisoning Viserys wouldn't be that easy.

Ever since Viserys was targeted by assassins sent by the Iron Throne, the security around him had been greatly increased. The "maester" couldn't easily access Viserys' kitchen, and poisoning a dragon would be no easier.

But now that the "maester" was dead, and his diary didn't mention what he intended to do with the "Tears of Lys."

No one could know what was going through his mind at the time.

The anonymous letter Viserys received not only revealed that "Maester Gunthor" was actually Gillyan Lannister, the third brother of Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock.

It also provided crucial evidence that confirmed this, proving that "Maester Gunthor" was indeed Gillyan Lannister.

Although the Citadel had indeed sent a Maester Gunthor, the real maester had already been ambushed and killed by the Lannister family on his way to Dragonstone.

However, the Lannisters had kept this matter very secret, and few people knew about it.

The author of the anonymous letter, or perhaps the mastermind behind the "little bird," was one of the few who knew about this.

He voluntarily leaked this information to Viserys.

"Varys."

When Viserys first saw the content of the letter, his first thought was that the boy was the "little bird."

The mastermind behind the letter was the "Spider," the current Master of Whisperers in the Iron Throne, Varys.

He knew that Varys might have a subtle connection with the Targaryens.

When Viserys and his mother, Rhaella Targaryen, fled to Dragonstone, King's Landing had already been taken by the usurpers, and the nobles and officials had been purged and replaced. Only a few people had gained Robert's trust.

This included Grand Maester Pycelle, the current Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan "the Bold" Selmy, and the Master of Whisperers, Varys, known as the "Spider."

However, when Queen Rhaella was hiding in Dragonstone after the fall of King's Landing, she still received firsthand information from the capital, which meant that the Targaryens still had insiders in King's Landing.

Viserys suspected at that time that the person might be Varys.

After all, he later betrayed the Iron Throne and joined the Targaryen camp, claiming to do so for the sake of the country and his future king - Aegon VI.

But...

Viserys didn't trust Varys, knowing that he couldn't take everything the man said at face value.

Including his background, coming from Lys, once a slave who was later sold to a theater troupe as an apprentice, and eventually having his manhood cut off and so on...

Even the things he did were elusive and hard to predict, let alone the words he spoke; no one could truly discern his real position.

He was like Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish, everything he did was only for himself.

Including the seemingly loyal future king, who might be his own nephew, Aegon Targaryen VI.

Therefore, Viserys never actively tried to make contact with Varys after arriving on the continent of Essos.

His spies planted in King's Landing were independent, merely collecting common intelligence and public opinion, without attempting to infiltrate the Red Keep, for fear of arousing the suspicion of the spymaster Varys.

However, now.

Viserys had never actively contacted Varys, but Varys had suddenly taken the initiative to contact him.

Although he thought his letter was seamless, revealing nothing of his own identity.

He wanted to continue hiding beneath the surface, silently stirring up the waters.

But he never realized that his understanding of Viserys was far less clear than Viserys' knowledge of him.

Viserys knew that this letter was undoubtedly connected to the eunuch.

That's why he quickly asked the guards to continue searching for the child who had just escaped after reading the letter, preferably capturing him alive and uprooting Varys' spy network in Andalos. However, no news has come back yet.

The servants who were bought by 'Maester Gunther' were still crying and begging for mercy, which annoyed Viserys a bit. He then looked up at the guard beside him.

"Your Majesty?"

The guard exchanged glances with Viserys and understood.

Viserys waved his hand, and the pleading servants were dragged away.

Moments later.

A few screams came from outside the door, the cries stopped abruptly, and a faint smell of blood filled the air.

Viserys sniffed slightly, feeling no discomfort.

He didn't know when, but he had gradually become accustomed to this smell.

"This Gellian Lannister..."

Viserys closed the diary and fiddled with it in his hands.

Varys' letter detailed that Gellian's academic performance in the Citadel was not very good, and he had a lively and active personality.

However, Gellian later managed to master extensive knowledge of celestial observation and medicine during his adventures on Dragonstone and Andalos, which was no less than that of a returned Maester.

Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles.

No one knew where his frequent correspondence with the Citadel went or who wrote the replies.

That's why he had not exposed himself all these years.

Chapter 160: Heavenly Appraisal

Viserys toyed with the diary in his hands for a moment before tossing it aside.

However, just then, he suddenly noticed a glint of light beneath the hole where the safe had just been dug out.

"Hmm?"

Currently in the bedchamber of Maester Gillyan Lannister, Viserys raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is there something else down there?"

Following his orders, the guards who had just executed several servants returned, and the soldiers continued digging with their tools.

Without digging too deep, the tools once again struck something, and the soldiers unearthed it from the soil.

This time it was a chest made of bronze, which appeared larger and heavier than the previous chest.

"Put your backs into it!"

The soldiers strained to lift the chest out of the hole.

Thud—

The heavy chest landed on the ground, kicking up dust. Viserys shielded his mouth and nose before crouching down to examine the bronze chest closely.

It looked somewhat weathered, reminiscent of the Valyrian civilization's style.

Viserys hadn't expected Gillyan Lannister to possess such a treasure, having unearthed an antique.

However, Viserys was no archaeologist, and he had little understanding of the decorative styles of Valyrian artifacts.

But as a Targaryen prince who had once lived in the Red Keep, he remembered seeing many treasures from the Valyrian Freehold era.

He even recalled accidentally breaking an expensive antique vase when he was young, which seemed to be from ancient Valyria. At the time, his mother, Queen Rhaella, had scolded him.

So Viserys immediately recognized the origin of this bronze chest.

More importantly, though, was what lay inside the chest.

The chest was buried deep but was not locked, its heavy lid fitting almost seamlessly.

Unsure of what the chest contained, Viserys cautiously drew his sword from his waist.

Clang...

A cold light shone in Gillyan's candlelit chamber as Viserys inserted the sword into the gap in the chest. He then narrowed his eyes and used his wrist strength to pry open the heavy bronze lid.

Thud—

The bronze lid struck the ground, making a loud noise.

Yet Viserys remained expressionless, unfazed by the possibility that the antique chest, valuable to ordinary people, might be damaged.

The guards around him, unfamiliar with the chest's value, curiously peered inside as well.

They had no idea what it contained.

Compared to them, Viserys was much calmer.

Snap—

After sheathing his sword, he looked inside the ancient bronze chest, intending to see what it held.

"Hmm?"

However, upon seeing the contents, Viserys' brow furrowed involuntarily, his expression mirroring that of the surrounding guards.

But what they saw was different.

"Your Grace, inside this chest..."

.

The guards peered into the chest and scratched their heads, disappointment written all over their faces.

They had initially thought that the maester had gone through great lengths to hide such a deep chest, it must be filled with gold, silver, and jewels. But...

"Is this it?"

"Why is it just a bunch of junk?"

Inside this ancient bronze chest were items that appeared worn and earthy.

It was as if they had just been dug up from some pit, which, in fact, they had just been excavated.

An old, chipped pot, a bronze candlestick spotted with patina, and a tarnished copper mirror that no longer reflected anything clearly.

At the bottom was a stone sculpture of a woman with an indiscernible face, seemingly with a single horn sprouting from her head, and a perfectly shaped body.

This sculpture appeared naturally crafted, lifelike, and exquisite, marred only by cracks and crevices filled with dirt due to age and neglect.

Nevertheless, the sculptor's skill was evident in the intricate details, truly admirable.

However, it was peculiar that the sculptor, with such divine craftsmanship, hadn't carved the woman's face, leaving a sense of regret.

The guards were puzzled by the contents of the chest.

They wondered why Maester Gunther had gone to such lengths, hiding the chest even deeper than his diary, just to store such junk.

Why fill it with junk?

But in Viserys' eyes, there was a slight difference in what he saw within the chest compared to the soldiers.

"This is..."

Viserys' eyes narrowed, and his fingers clenched involuntarily. If one looked closely, they could see a faint magical rune deep within his pale purple eyes, and a clear sense of shock.

This shock was even more profound than when he had recently read the letter from Varys, accusing Maester Gunther of being an informant for the Iron Throne.

Because before this, he had already had suspicions about the maester.

"How... How is this possible?"

Viserys stared intently at the items in the chest, his voice filled with disbelief.

In his eyes, a thin layer of black mist seemed to envelop the surface of these shabby items.

Although not very dense, it was indeed the same black mist Viserys was most familiar with, the kind he could obtain after killing someone.

Seeing this mysterious black mist was one of Viserys' greatest secrets, second only to his otherworldly soul that had a premonition of significant events and important people.

Viserys had tried to find information on this black mist but found no records of it in the vast historical documents.

If this black mist, which could enhance one's power after killing someone, truly existed within others, their names would undoubtedly have been recorded in history.

Yet Viserys found no trace.

Years passed, and Viserys continued to search for clues to the origin of the black mist.

But he never expected...

That today, after executing a traitor, he would find a small clue about the black mist.

He exhaled softly, pursing his lips and suppressing the shock within his heart.

Then, he slowly reached out.

With a whoosh, the black mist that clung to these tattered items behaved as if it had found its mother, transforming into a wisp of black smoke that entered Viserys' body.

Becoming a part of the black mist within him.

...

Chapter 161: The Devil's Land

Viserys exhaled softly after absorbing the black mist.

He then began to carefully examine the various items placed in the bronze box.

Creak...

He first took out the bronze candelabrum from the box.

The candelabrum showed signs of tarnish, indicating that it had likely been around for many years.

However, there was nothing else remarkable about it.

Viserys weighed the candelabrum in his hand for a moment before setting it aside.

He continued to take out other items from the bronze box. There were many small, broken items within, not just the ones he had seen initially. Most were damaged artifacts.

Although Viserys was no expert, he could tell that these items had likely been around for an unknown number of years.

Among them, he spent a long time studying a faceless female stone sculpture he had pulled out.

This was because, among all the artifacts, she bore the most black mist.

"Who is this woman?" Viserys asked, staring intently at the sculpture with his pale purple eyes.

Due to the 'Wrath of the Gods,' Valyria experienced a terrible catastrophe. This once-powerful civilization and its people were torn apart, with many of their precious records lost to history.

It was also difficult for those outside Valyria to fully reconstruct the civilization's true appearance. Even the records of House Targaryen were not very comprehensive.

Many records were lost during several upheavals over the centuries, including the Dance of the Dragons. After the Usurper's War, the Targaryens had even lost the Iron Throne, and the Red Keep had been plundered by Lannister soldiers.

Although many records were still stored on Dragonstone, many rare volumes were lost in the chaos of war. As a result, Viserys could not fully reconstruct Valyria's history, even after reading many books.

However, as Viserys held the faceless stone sculpture, he had an intuition that this woman might have played a very important role in Valyrian civilization.

He felt that the sculpture resembled a smaller version of the statues found in the Sept of the Seven Gods.

"Could this be another statue of a god?" Viserys ventured a bold guess, fiddling with the sculpture before placing it with the other broken items.

"Based on Gillyan Lannister's background, these artifacts must be from the Valyrian civilization era."

At eighteen, Gillyan Lannister had set sail on the Laughing Lion from Lannisport to Volantis, seeking both the lost ancestral weapon 'Brightroar' and the secrets of Valyria's ruins, hoping to uncover the lost civilization.

"I wonder where Gillyan got these items. Did he find a way into the Valyrian ruins?"

Viserys pondered for a moment but soon shook his head.

"That's unlikely."

Now, the ruins of Valyria were known as the 'Devil's Land.' Few who entered this territory returned alive, and those who did often mysteriously succumbed to strange diseases and died.

Perhaps he had hidden his true abilities too well, but aside from a cunning plan that momentarily impressed Viserys, he had not sensed that the 'Maester' possessed such capabilities.

...

However.

Everyone has a secret in their heart. Viserys's secret was his true identity and the dark mist.

As for Gerion, without inheritance rights and overshadowed by his older brother's fame, he had to bravely step forward to make a name for himself.

Thus, his biggest secret was his experience exploring the ruins of Valyria.

Viserys guessed that Gerion might not have even told his older brother Tywin Lannister about it.

Viserys then gathered the stone statue and the other broken items together and reached into the bottom of the chest.

Finally, he pulled out a thick roll of parchment, wrapped around a thin diary. It seemed that Gerion indeed had a habit of keeping a journal.

"What is this?"

Viserys unrolled the parchment in his hand, but after just one glance, his expression froze, and he seemed unable to believe his own eyes.

"This…can't be."

"Did I really guess correctly?"

Now, in Viserys's hands, the parchment displayed a map-like drawing, marked with reefs, hidden forts, every tiny island, and sailing routes. Many locations were highlighted in red, while others were crossed out.

"Is this a map to the ruins of Valyria?!"

Viserys, unable to control his emotions, abruptly stood up from his chair, startling the guards around him. They didn't know what the king had seen to make him so agitated.

Viserys had never expected that his casual guess would be right - Gerion Lannister seemed to have actually visited the ruins of Valyria.

Moreover, he had returned safely and drawn a map to the Valyrian ruins.

"Is this for real?"

Viserys felt his spirits lift instantly, and his eyes became bright and sharp.

The ruins of Valyria held astonishing treasures.

Every once in a while, stories about exploring the Valyrian ruins and returning safely with valuable items to make a fortune spread throughout Essos.

The protagonists of these stories were usually destitute outlaws who, relying on their daring, managed to leave the Valyrian ruins unscathed.

They then gained incredible wealth and status, becoming wealthy merchants or even Magisters and princes of city-states and so on...

Viserys had heard countless versions of such stories, with new ones emerging periodically.

Perhaps Gerion, at eighteen, had heard such a story and then resolved to come to Volantis, ready to venture into this 'Land of Demons'.

But...was Gerion also one of the lucky few who could escape unscathed?

If this parchment map was genuine, it indeed represented an immeasurable fortune.

An unknown number of people would go mad for it - dragon eggs, Valyrian steel swords, armor, and various treasures.

Even Viserys, who had seen great wealth, couldn't help but feel his heart race at the prospect of such treasure, wanting to give it a try.

"Calm down."

However, in the end, Viserys managed to suppress his inner impulses.

Because he knew that this seemingly easily attainable fortune wouldn't be so simple to obtain.

On that cursed land, there were even things that could injure Balerion the Black Dread at the height of his power.

Chapter 162: Memoirs

"Regardless... this is an important discovery," said Viserys, suppressing his inner greed and clenching his fists. "If the opportunity arises in the future, it might be worth investigating."

Although the Valyrian ruins were incredibly dangerous, they were of great importance to Viserys.

"I have a feeling..."

"The secret hidden by the black mist may lie within this lost civilization."

The Targaryen family was once one of the ancient forty houses in the Valyrian Freehold.

As someone with Valyrian blood, Viserys could see the black mist that others could not, which wrapped around him.

This black mist would display its host's current state in Valyrian script, and actively killing and plundering the souls of others would only strengthen the growth of the black mist.

The connection between the black mist and the Valyrian civilization gradually became more apparent.

These relics, seemingly brought back by Gerion Lannister from the Valyrian ruins, were all imbued with a faint black mist.

For the first time, Viserys saw this black mist in a place other than a dead body, further solidifying the hidden connection between the two.

Viserys then put away the map on the parchment scroll and opened the diary left by the 'maester.'

As expected.

The diary chronicled the story of Gerion after he left Lannisport at the age of eighteen.

The long ten years were condensed into this thin diary.

Gerion had once sailed to Volantis aboard the Laughing Lion, but half of the crew abandoned the journey upon hearing that Gerion planned to venture to the legendary Smoking Sea, so he had to purchase slaves to replace them.

In the days that followed, Gerion was busy preparing to enter the Valyrian ruins, even experiencing several instances of deception, narrowly escaping death, and almost losing everything. Desperate, he once considered suicide.

The words here were filled with sadness.

Fortunately, Gerion eventually pulled himself together, organizing a small fleet to venture into the Smoking Sea.

Viserys was engrossed in reading Gerion's diary.

It was more of an autobiography than a diary. If Gerion had been willing to publish it, he would have undoubtedly made a fortune.

However, from the moment he organized the fleet to enter the Smoking Sea, Gerion's writing underwent a drastic change.

Although Viserys tried his best to imagine, he could not comprehend the transition from the initial ambition, to the joy of seeing the Valyrian ruins, and then finally, to the depths of despair...

What had they experienced?

"Tentacles?"

"Feelers?"

"A huge tentacle swept away a sailor. He screamed, and then he was dragged into the inky black sea."

This part of the diary was a memoir written by Gerion after escaping the Valyrian ruins. He also recorded his own reaction at the time.

"I felt like I had lost my mind."

"My legs felt as if they were filled with lead. I desperately wanted to escape, but I couldn't move. I could only watch as the sky-blocking tentacles kept sweeping away the sailors..."

"They didn't even scream. I thought they had been dragged underwater and drowned..." .

"However—"

"As I trembled and hid in a crevice on the deck, I saw with my own eyes a crewmember being wrapped up by a massive tentacle."

"Then, with tremendous force, the creature stripped the flesh from his body, leaving only a skeleton that fell into the black sea."

Gillyan's writing was filled with terror.

Sigh...

Seeing this, Viserys couldn't help but feel his breath quicken a bit. He took a deep breath, gripping the memoir tightly, his fingernails turning white.

"Is this... a sea monster?"

Viserys tried his hardest to imagine the scene of a colossal deep-sea squid, the size of a three-masted ship, attacking humans.

However, Gillyan's account only allowed Viserys to associate the deep-sea squid with the words 'tentacles' and 'arms.'

Moreover, it seemed that there was more than just one. In Gillyan's description, there were even more bizarre creatures attacking them.

Fortunately, although the crew suffered heavy casualties, they still fought back, severing several of the sea monsters' tentacles, and ultimately escaped the attack to reach land.

"These sea monsters seem to fear this land greatly. They stop once they reach a certain range, but they also seem unable to leave, forever guarding the depths around the Valyrian peninsula."

"Otherwise, if these monsters escaped, Seven Hells! Who knows what horrors they would unleash?"

These were the exact words from Gillyan's memoir.

The fleet lost several ships, and then, through luck and sheer determination, finally broke through the monster-infested sea and the boiling mists to reach the edge of the Valyrian peninsula. The sea monsters didn't dare to pursue any further and retreated on their own.

"Perhaps this catastrophe created them, after all, I've been to many places, and nowhere else in the world has such creatures, except Valyria."

"Therefore, they are unwilling to leave. If they leave, they stop growing, but if they get too close to this land, they might die."

The following words were Gillyan's direct link between the sea monsters and the catastrophe, and he made a guess of his own.

However, no one could confirm his words.

Viserys then flipped the pages to the next section.

He was already starting to regret giving Gillyan a cup of poisoned wine. If he had known that Gillyan knew so much, he would not have let him die like this.

But it was too late now. The poison had been given, and it was impossible to take it back. Perhaps it wouldn't be long before he heard of Gillyan's death.

Viserys shook his head with regret but had no choice but to continue reading.

Next, Gillyan's memoir reached the land of Valyria.

They had paid a heavy price to break through the Smoking Sea and finally set foot on the mysterious and terrifying land of Valyria.

Many of the crewmembers and even slaves on Gillyan's ship refused to continue exploring because they were utterly terrified. They even captured Gillyan, wanting to kill the man who had deceived them.

However, Gillyan, though frightened, still fully utilized his gift of eloquence and ultimately persuaded some of the slaves and crewmembers to spare him.

After all, the ships had suffered severe damage and couldn't immediately return. They needed to repair them on the spot.

They had no choice but to move forward.

However...

On the very first night after these survivors landed on the island, something terrifying happened again.

Chapter 163: The Castle of Valyria

That night.

A piercing scream shattered the silence that had persisted on this land for many years.

"I woke up in a panic from my sleep, and a slave on night watch duty told me that he had accidentally fallen asleep, and his companion, who was also on night watch and dozing off beside him, had been dragged away by a terrifying creature."

"I rushed over when I heard the news and found a crowd had already gathered."

"I struggled my way to the center and saw a long, shocking trail of blood, extending along the scorched earth towards the pitch-black distance."

"What attacked us? Was it a wolf? A hyena? Or a shadowcat?"

The first two were pack animals, so Gillyan was more inclined to believe it was the latter.

"'We should rescue our companion!' I told everyone because since it had only attacked one of us, it must not have the courage to face all of us."

"If we want to fix the ship and return home smoothly, without being constantly on edge, we should first deal with this threat to everyone."

"I convinced the rest of the crew and the slaves, who agreed with my idea, and then we organized everyone to give chase..."

In Gillyan's account, the ruins of Valyria were not much different from ordinary desolate lands; in fact, some areas were no longer scenes of apocalyptic devastation but were sprouting weeds and trees.

This was unlike what the crew, Gillyan, and now Viserys, who read this story through the pages, had imagined.

The Valyrian ruins had begun to regain vitality under the powerful self-healing ability of nature.

Perhaps it was for this reason that all the crew and slaves, including Gillyan, had somewhat relaxed their guard.

They believed that the most dangerous things in the Valyrian ruins were the sea monsters lurking in the dark waters, and this land was no different from where they lived their daily lives.

Gillyan expressed remorse in his memoir, saying it was one of the most erroneous decisions he had made in his life.

Armed with weapons, the crew and slaves followed the trail of their companion's blood on the ground under Gillyan's encouragement and leadership, chasing after him in the dark.

The night on this ancient land was so dim that even the moonlight was faint, whether it was due to the lingering smoke over this lost continent or just because it was an overcast day.

Holding a few torches, the crew could barely illuminate a small portion of the land before them, and they didn't know how far they had gone.

It was not until some of the more timid among them proposed the idea of retreating that their path finally changed a little.

"The ground beneath our feet seemed to show faint signs of once being an ancient road, but it had been nearly destroyed by the cataclysm, leaving only a hint of what it once was."

"The trail of blood on the ground seemed to follow the broken road, and as we followed it to the end, we finally made a different discovery."

"It was a castle..."

"We could barely make out the silhouette of an ancient castle shrouded in darkness not far away, but it was clear that it had become dilapidated, with only ruins and broken walls remaining."

"The trail of blood stopped here, as if it had vanished into thin air."

"Without a doubt."

"Here lies a Valyrian noble's castle, a thrilling discovery that could contain unimaginable wealth."

"Valyrian steel swords, Valyrian steel armor, dragon eggs, ancient tomes, exquisitely crafted artifacts made with advanced magic, and so much more..."

"At this point, the people were divided into two factions."

"One faction became consumed by greed at the sight of the Valyrian noble's castle, forgetting their mission to rescue their companions and kill the monster that had attacked them."

"However, they finally remembered that they had ventured into the Valyrian ruins for riches, not to return empty-handed."

"They even forgot their terror from the day before and tied me to a stake, intending to burn me alive."

"How ironic."

To organize this fleet and venture into the ruins of Valyria, Gillyan had made a promise: his sole purpose was to find the lost Lannister family weapon, 'Bright Roar.'

Aside from Bright Roar, whoever found any treasure first could keep it, and anyone who tried to steal would be executed by the group.

As their leader, Gillyan would not take more than his fair share, vouching with his own name.

All slaves willing to follow him into the Valyrian ruins would be freed upon their return and their acquired wealth would be recognized.

Enticed by these powerful incentives, the sailors and slaves willingly followed Gillyan into the Valyrian ruins.

However...

They underestimated the horrifying cost of exploring these ruins, and they were terrified upon crossing the Smoking Sea.

But now, the prospect of vast riches lay bare before them in this untouched, genuine Valyrian castle, and many were tempted.

Having already risked so much, they knew the return journey would be equally perilous.

Might as well go all in; if they could truly find a Valyrian steel sword and bring it out... At this thought, some of their eyes turned red with greed.

Still, some remained level-headed.

They remembered the monsters lurking beneath the black waters.

They believed this land hid even more terrifying creatures, possibly the same one that had snatched their companion.

So, some of them chose to retreat.

Some sought fortune by taking risks and delving deeper into the ruins, while others opted to return to the seaside camp. With no real conflict between the two sides, they simply went their separate ways.

Those who wanted to go back formed a small group. Unable to discern directions due to the surrounding fog, they followed the bloodstains on the ground back.

The bolder group, on the other hand, readied their weapons and armor, preparing to enter the crumbling castle in search of wealth.

Gillyan Lannister was among them.

He had come to explore the Valyrian ruins to prove his own capabilities and step out of his brothers' shadows.

He couldn't just give up when opportunity presented itself.

Chapter 164: Swords, Armor, and Horns

"So, I followed the 'brave ones' into the castle."

"I must admit, it was one of the best decisions I've ever made."

Gillyan didn't elaborate on why he said that, but it made Viserys, the reader, shiver slightly.

He was now fully immersed in the story, even feeling a sense of empathy.

He had a feeling that those who turned back might have encountered something even more terrifying.

Whoosh...

In the silent room, the sound of turning pages filled the air as Viserys opened the next one.

At that moment.

Knock, knock, knock…

The door to the 'maester's' room was knocked upon, the sudden noise startling Viserys.

The silver-haired young man looked up from the book, his gaze towards the door. He nodded slightly without any annoyance, and someone nearby hurriedly went to open it.

"Your Grace."

A soldier entered from outside.

"The maester is dead."

He came to inform Viserys of the death of Gillyan Lannister, who had died bleeding from all orifices after drinking the poisoned wine.

"Alright."

Viserys, having anticipated this outcome, simply nodded.

However, the soldier didn't leave. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

"Your Grace, Princess Rhaenys... "

The soldier went on to tell Viserys that Rhaenys and Daenerys wanted to see him.

They had learned about the situation, but not the maester's death, and they didn't believe he had truly betrayed House Targaryen.

Now, Rhaenys was rushing over to plead for her teacher.

Viserys had anticipated this since Gillyan had once tutored the two girls. To spare Rhaenys and Daenerys any emotional turmoil, he had purposely sent them away when administering the poison.

However, upon hearing the soldier's words, Viserys hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and refusing Rhaenys's request.

"Never mind."

"Let them calm down."

Experiencing betrayal wasn't all that uncommon, especially when surrounded by influential people. After all, desire is one of the most difficult emotions for humans to control.

Viserys had seen his fair share of betrayals in his lifetime.

After all, when House Targaryen was on the brink of collapse, everyone sought to distance themselves, not wanting to go down with the sinking ship. It was a normal way of thinking.

Who would have thought that Viserys would later accomplish so much and turn the tide of fate?

What's more, the 'maester' had been an enemy from the start, seeking revenge for his brother, Kevan Lannister.

From the ambush on the Kingsroad six years ago, when Viserys drove his sword through Kevan's chest, to the Red Keep massacre, House Targaryen and House Lannister had been locked in a blood feud with no room for reconciliation.

Thus, Viserys didn't harbor much anger towards the maester's 'betrayal'; instead, it served as a wake-up call, reminding him that there were still debts of blood to be settled across the Narrow Sea.

Ever since fleeing King's Landing in a hurried escape by carriage, Viserys had been waiting for the day he could return to reclaim what was his.

Rhaenys was too young at the time to remember their father, Rhaegar Targaryen, and their mother, Elia Martell.

It goes without saying that their brother, Aegon Targaryen, who was widely believed to have died from falling off the wall, was not forgotten.

Rhaenys simply kept repeating the names of the three of them, remembering who she was supposed to hate.

But she didn't know where to channel this hatred.

Daenerys was even more detached from the so-called hatred.

Her father, mother, and elder brother were just code names for her. Throughout her entire life, Daenerys only had her brother Viserys and Rhaenys, who forced her to call her "sister."

Thus, the driving force of revenge for House Targaryen now rested solely on Viserys.

They knew nothing, which was why they were so naive.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Upon hearing Viserys' slightly weary voice, the guard's expression tightened, and he quickly responded before turning to leave.

Not far away, a brown-haired girl stood quietly in front of the tower, looking at the flickering lights. The guard who had left the room approached Rhaenys and shook his head slightly.

"Princess Rhaenys…"

Disappointment was clearly written on Rhaenys' face.

She hadn't seen the evidence, so she couldn't believe that her teacher had truly betrayed House Targaryen.

She hoped that Viserys was mistaken.

While Gillyan was plotting to eliminate Viserys, he had been a good and dedicated teacher to the two girls, perhaps to conceal his identity.

Even when investigating the castle's mole not long ago, Viserys had suspected many people, but it wasn't until the end that he noticed the maester because Gillyan's acting was nearly flawless.

…

Meanwhile, inside the maester's tower.

After rejecting Rhaenys' plea, Viserys continued to focus on Gillyan's memoir.

He had just reached the most crucial part when he was interrupted.

Next, Gillyan and a group of greedy sailors and slaves entered the castle shrouded in a hazy fog.

"Upon entering the castle, we encountered a garden that had long lost any trace of life. The flowers had withered, and the ground was littered with dead wood, broken pillars. We began searching the castle, starting with the servants' quarters."

"Sure enough, as soon as we entered the castle, looting began. A lowly slave drew his sword, killing a sailor named Kevin, and then took the candelabrum he had acquired first."

"Kevin... I remember him. He was one of the few who stood up and chose to believe in me during our most difficult times."

"Subsequently, a chaotic looting broke out. People fought and killed each other in a disorganized manner, completely forgetting that their greatest enemy wasn't their own kind."

"And this was just the servants' quarters."

Gillyan's handwriting was somewhat messy at this point, as his emotions seemed to be unstable while recalling these events.

He also emphasized the word 'own kind,' and Viserys wondered if there was a hidden meaning behind it.

"After paying a heavy price, people finally calmed down, and the candelabrum that started the bloodshed somehow ended up in my hands."

"I suggested that everyone put all the valuable items they found in a bronze chest, to be sold and divided equally when we returned to Volantis."

"After paying some necessary costs, we finally united and continued our search, arriving at the castle's great hall…"

"However, we didn't find treasure here, but we did find the monster that attacked us…"

"Its figure was shrouded in darkness, somewhat indistinct, looking like a strong but hunched man, who seemed to be savoring something."

"Later, I realized that he wasn't afraid of us; a single human was just enough to satiate his hunger."

"At that moment, I glimpsed through the gap outside the great hall and saw three objects next to the throne high above."

"A sword and a suit of armor hung on the wall behind the throne, and a massive horn lay on the table…"

Chapter 165: Escape from Valyria

"At that moment, the creature feasting on our comrade in the great hall finally noticed us."

"It had dark, gray skin, a pale white belly, and a slippery surface, as if it had just emerged from water. It dripped droplets continuously, but when we saw it clearly, we realized the sound was from the blood flowing from the corners of its mouth."

"It stood up with a vaguely humanoid appearance, its huge protruding eyes gleaming with a bloody red light."

"It noticed us and began to approach, letting out a bone-chilling roar in the dark hall."

"The 'warriors' also noticed the creature, and they saw the treasures placed on the throne behind it. Overcoming their fear, they drew their weapons and shouted that they would kill the monster—"

"And so, a brutal slaughter began."

"Blood, everywhere there was blood."

"The creature was incredibly fast, and although it had a humanoid figure, it ran on all fours."

"Its strength was immense, capable of easily tearing a man over six feet tall and weighing more than two hundred pounds in half."

As Gillyan wrote this part, his handwriting became extremely messy, as if recalling something terrifying had made him unable to hold the pen steadily.

At the same time, in one place, the ink was smeared, as if something had struck it several times.

Viserys looked at this memoir, involuntarily imagining Gillyan's painful expression as he wrote, clutching his head and repeatedly banging it on the table.

However, the obvious conclusion was that Gillyan had escaped alive.

As for whether anyone else had escaped with him, Viserys didn't know and would have to continue reading.

Swish...

The sound of turning pages echoed in the quiet room once again.

The silver-haired youth opened the next page, his gaze slowly moving across the words.

…

At that time.

The creature pounced at them, and Gillyan and the crew members and slaves exploring the castle seemed to have encountered great trouble.

Flee

Flee

Flee—

The word that appeared most frequently in the remaining memoir was 'escape.'

The exaggerated tone and trembling handwriting depicted the extreme terror of the scene at that time.

Gillyan had only seen a sword, a suit of armor, and a huge horn in the great hall of the castle. He knew those must be the most valuable treasures in the entire castle.

But he could only see them, not approach them.

Faced with the terrifying creature's attack, the crowd became panicked and scattered. Among them were those who had the courage to draw their swords and attempt to kill the terrifying monster. However, their fate was gruesome, as they were all torn to shreds by the humanoid creature.

As it turned out, it wasn't like what Gillyan had said, that it only attacked one of them because it was afraid of the crew members and slaves' numbers.

It was because its appetite was only that big, and dragging away one person was enough for a full meal.

But perhaps the creature didn't expect that this prey would dare to confront it.

Though Gillyan was unwilling to retreat like that, he maliciously encouraged everyone to chase after and kill the creature.

But his luck wasn't too bad. While the creature was attacking others, he managed to escape in fear with some crew members and slaves.

Although many treasures were lost in the castle, fortunately, the bronze chest was brought out. Otherwise, their journey would have been fruitless and suffered heavy losses.

The remaining ten or so crew members and slaves, frightened like birds startled by the mere twang of a bow, took the last of their loot and dared not look back. They fled back in the direction they had come from.

Even the torches in their hands were extinguished, fearing that the monsters would see the bright flames in the dark and give chase.

However, not knowing how far they had fled, without the light of the fire, they could only crawl on the ground to find the footprints they had left before.

On their way back, they came across an earlier group of people who had left without entering the castle.

But what terrified them even more was the sight before them, which instantly sent chills down their spines and their hearts plummeting.

Now, those who had returned earliest were strewn about as severed limbs and torsos, seemingly arranged in strange symbols, like a deep warning. However, none of them could recognize the symbols.

It seemed that all the people who had left without exploring the castle had died here, perhaps encountering something even more terrifying than what they had experienced.

In the end, Gillyan and his party were fortunate enough to make it back, their hearts pounding with fear all the way.

But due to the lack of torches, they lost track of countless people along the way.

Only seven or eight of them made it back to the campsite where they had started, plus the dozen or so who had stayed behind, totaling twenty people.

Upon hearing about their ordeal, everyone wanted to leave immediately, fearing they wouldn't survive the night if they stayed any longer.

So they all returned to the ship and sailed across the Smoking Sea in the battered vessel.

It turned out that the sea was the safer place—

This lost continent was the true 'land of devils,' where demons roamed.

The survivors on the ship prayed to all the gods they knew.

Then, as if the gods above were watching over them, the broken ship escaping from Valyria did not encounter any sea monsters this time. Instead, it sailed smoothly out of the vast Smoking Sea and headed straight for Volantis.

Emerging from the fog and seeing the world outside, the hearts of everyone on board finally settled.

The joy of escaping certain death filled everyone's minds, and they hugged each other excitedly in celebration, their blood flowing faster.

Then, one of the slaves' faces turned red with excitement, and right before everyone's eyes...

His head exploded.

It was like a blossoming flower.

The curse of Valyria had arrived quietly.

Very few people could escape Valyria's ruins unscathed, and it was because of this terrible curse.

Even those who managed to escape Valyria would eventually succumb to a strange illness.

So, during the long voyage back to Volantis, the survivors on the ship died one after another from bizarre diseases.

By the time the ship finally ran aground, there were only three survivors left who had escaped from the ruins of Valyria.

Gillyan was incredibly lucky to be one of them, and it seemed that the three of them had not contracted the terrifying disease.

In the end, they carried off all their spoils from the ship, released the anchor, and let the vessel drift away with the current.

The three of them then divided the spoils from their journey and went their separate ways.

Chapter 166: The Dragon's Horn

After Gillyan Lannister returned to Volantis, he changed his appearance and his name. He secretly bought a rundown mansion and hid within it, diligently writing down his journey in a diary, recording every detail of his trip.

He hoped that one day he could reassemble a fleet and return to Valyria, with the long sword hanging in the castle's great hall, the armor, and the horn on the table all being treasures he longed for in his dreams. He wished to astonish the world with his adventures, to break free from his older brother's shadow and prove his own abilities.

Gillyan even deliberately avoided being seen by the people his brother Tywin sent to Volantis to find him, hiding away for a while. Several years passed, and Gillyan heard news of the usurper's war breaking out in Westeros. He then decided to return to his homeland.

However, the journey from Volantis back to Lannisport was long and arduous. The news had taken time to travel, and by the time Gillyan returned, the war had already ended. Robert Baratheon had overthrown the Targaryen rule, successfully claiming the Iron Throne, and subsequently married his niece, Cersei Lannister, in a political alliance.

To express his congratulations, Gillyan presented a treasure he had acquired from the ruins of Valyria as a wedding gift for her. After that, events unfolded as Varys, the 'Spider,' had written in his letter to Viserys.

Gillyan Lannister, who had been missing for many years, returned to Casterly Rock after hearing of his brother Kevan's death and swore to avenge him. He eventually replaced the maester who was supposed to go to Dragonstone, infiltrating the island unnoticed.

As Viserys finished reading Gillyan Lannister's extraordinary life story, he closed the memoir with a sigh. He hadn't expected such a formidable person to be taken down by a cup of poison.

However, his lament for Gillyan's death lasted only a few seconds. Viserys' attention was more focused on the castle mentioned in the memoir and the sword, armor, and horn that Gillyan had glimpsed back then.

Viserys agreed with Gillyan's judgment that these three items, prominently displayed in the castle, must be incredibly valuable. He boldly speculated that the sword and armor had once belonged to the castle's lord and were forged from magically imbued Valyrian steel.

And the horn...

"Could it be the Dragon's Horn?"

A daring idea flashed through Viserys' mind. Gillyan might not have known what it was, but Viserys was very familiar with the item. However, he found it hard to believe and shook his head, dismissing the notion as too coincidental.

He vaguely remembered someone else escaping from the ruins of Valyria later on – Euron Greyjoy, the younger brother of Balon Greyjoy, ruler of the Iron Islands. Euron had committed adultery with his brother Victarion's salt wife and was banished from the Iron Islands by Balon.

Afterward, Euron disappeared for a while. But when he reemerged, he possessed the legendary artifact said to command dragons. The recent Ironborn rebellion had been suppressed not long ago, with Euron still on the Iron Islands.

"Could it be that Euron obtained this information from Gillyan?"

"Or did Gillyan die somewhere unknown, with his diary and the parchment map with the correct sailing routes eventually falling into Euron's hands?"

Viserys suddenly felt that his conjecture seemed quite plausible.

Gillyan had indeed been very lucky, and could be considered a 'child of destiny.' In the past, an entire fleet dispatched by Volantis had disappeared into the Smoking Sea without a trace.

Gillyan's small fleet had managed to successfully reach the Valyrian continent through the Smoking Sea, which indicated that there weren't many sea monsters along this route.

It was highly likely that Euron had obtained the precious diary and nautical charts, then successfully entered Valyria and acquired the horn and armor.

Considering this, the horn mentioned in the records could very well be the legendary Dragon Horn.

Although there were few clues, everything seemed to fall into place when all the pieces were laid out.

Viserys remembered listening to Maester Pycelle's stories about the Dragon Horn when he was a child in the Red Keep. It was said that the Dragon Kings of Valyria could use it to control dragons.

Once the Dragon Horn was sounded, all dragons would bow down in submission.

"It seems... I must make a trip there in the future."

Viserys stared at the candlelight before him and fell silent for a long while before finally making up his mind.

He might not need the Dragon Horn to command dragons, but such a thing must not fall into the hands of outsiders, as it would pose a deadly threat to House Targaryen.

He hadn't initially wanted to take such a risk by venturing to the ruins of Valyria, but now two factors compelled him to make the journey.

First, he needed to investigate the black mist within his body and its connection to the Valyrian civilization.

Second, he had to obtain the Dragon Horn to ensure it did not fall into the hands of others.

However, as Viserys was contemplating his unexpected gains...

An elderly man with trembling steps and white hair far away had just received news about him.

At that moment, the man was wearing a thick cloak of black animal fur and standing on the battlements of the Wall, gazing into the distance.

He suddenly spoke, his voice trembling and hoarse.

"I... once heard of the fall of the kingdom, and my vows faced their greatest challenge at that time."

A tall man with graying hair joined the elderly man's side.

"I've heard you mention that before, Maester Aemon."

The newcomer was Jeor Mormont, the 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

The old man, shivering in the cold wind, was Maester Aemon, the highest-ranking member of the Night's Watch.

Even the most vicious criminals and insubordinate members of the Watch held deep respect for this elderly man.

Jeor Mormont stood side by side with Maester Aemon, both gazing at the endless Haunted Forest in the distance.

Snow was falling heavily.

Now, the forest was cloaked in a layer of silver.

Although south of the Wall it was still the warm transition between summer and autumn, snowflakes occasionally drifted down here at the Wall.

The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch turned his head and suddenly asked, "Have you received the news?"

Today, a group of smugglers had arrived at Castle Black to trade with the Night's Watch, bringing news from the outside world.

The last 'true dragon' of House Targaryen, the newly crowned Viserys Targaryen III, now had three dragons.

Chapter 167: Benjen Stark

Perhaps others in the Night's Watch may not know the real name of the venerable Maester Aemon, as becoming a maester means giving up one's family name.

However, as the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont may only be a junior to Maester Aemon, but he learned of this information from the last words of the previous Lord Commander.

Maester Aemon's full name is Aemon Targaryen, the third son of Maekar Targaryen I.

Once, in order to uphold his vows, he refused the throne offered to him and handed it over to his younger brother, who later became Aegon V.

Moreover, to prevent himself from being used as a tool to usurp his brother's throne in the future, Aemon Targaryen joined the Night's Watch at the Wall after giving up the throne.

Aemon's brother, King Aegon, emptied the dungeons of King's Landing for his elder brother and provided an 'honor guard' of two hundred men for his journey to the Wall to recite the Night's Watch vows.

"It's shameful to admit... Lord Commander."

"As a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, I should be indifferent to the affairs of the outside world."

"Love is the great enemy of honor and the great taboo of duty."

Maester Aemon said shakily, his hand resting on the cold battlements, his pale eyes gazing at the Haunted Forest in the distance.

However, it was unclear whether his blind eyes could actually see anything.

"But it is truly difficult to achieve this."

As Maester Aemon's words fell, Jeor Mormont, whose hair had also turned white, fell silent for a while before nodding.

"You're right, Maester Aemon."

"Even now, I still miss my family."

In order to ensure his son could inherit the family and title, Jeor Mormont resolutely joined the ranks of the Night's Watch. However, he had recently received news about Jorah.

His son, Jorah Mormont, had distinguished himself in the war to suppress the Iron Islands rebellion and was knighted. He then achieved an impossible victory for a girl in a tournament held in Lannisport to celebrate the war's victory, winning the championship.

"It seems we both have the same troubles, Lord Commander."

Maester Aemon was not surprised by Mormont's answer and merely gave a faint smile.

Afterwards, he walked towards the way back with Mormont's assistance.

"Viserys is doing well, whether or not he can reclaim his throne in the end."

"I want to write him a letter; this child knows I am here but has never written me a single letter."

Maester Aemon, supported by Lord Commander Mormont, descended the towering, steep stairs, still speaking with a trembling voice, and there was even a hint of complaint in his words.

Maester Aemon was getting old and missed his younger relatives, but they never thought of him.

"His uncle, that good boy called Rhaegar, used to correspond with me through ravens many years ago..."

Maester Aemon continued speaking until Lord Commander Mormont gently reminded him, and the old man paused before realizing his mistake.

"Yes, yes... I was wrong."

"They are all the grandchildren of Jaehaerys, Rhaegar is Viserys's elder brother."

"Aerys..."

Although the old man's mind was not yet confused, his age meant he no longer had the clarity of thought he had in his youth.

Mumbling to himself, he finally sorted out his family tree and placed Viserys in the correct position.

Then, he took a long breath, snowflakes still drifting above his head, and exhaled a white mist.

...

The old man slightly calmed his emotions and continued to speak.

His voice remained hoarse and sharp, but it made people involuntarily become serious.

"He has a dragon..."

"Dragons... they have been gone for so many years, they wouldn't just return for no reason."

The old man's voice drifted away in the wind as the two figures receded into the distance.

"I experienced the winter sixty years ago, a long winter that lasted six years."

"I saw with my own eyes women suffocating their newborns in their beds, their tears freezing as they flowed, and people digging through the snow to eat whatever they could find in the ground..."

In the 223rd to 230th year of Aegon's Conquest, there was a seven-year-long summer, and people had even forgotten what winter was like.

However, from the 230th to 236th year of Aegon's Conquest, a punishing disaster arrived as expected; a six-year-long winter enveloped the Seven Kingdoms. Almost every household north of the Neck and even north of King's Landing was empty, and there were even cases of cannibalism.

Maester Aemon's lifespan had indeed been too long, becoming a living piece of history.

He had witnessed and experienced countless tumultuous events.

"Lord Commander."

"I feel the weather has gotten colder..."

...

Half a month later.

The North.

Clopping, clopping, clopping...

The sound of galloping hooves came from the ancient road that stretched beyond sight.

A knight, clad in scale armor and draped in a black animal fur cloak, arrived at the gates of Winterfell. The lookout stationed on the tower had spotted him long ago.

Thwack!

The bowstring released a sound, and an arrow pierced the ground in front of the black-clad knight, causing mud to splash.

The knight's steed was startled, stomping its hooves restlessly, and snorted loudly, exhaling a thick white mist.

"Who goes there!"

The guard on the battlements of Winterfell shouted, holding his bow and arrow.

Winterfell was the stronghold of the Stark family, protectors of the North, and the soldiers stationed here were naturally the bravest of warriors. He was very confident in his archery skills, capable of ordering the other party to stop without hurting them.

However, the black-clad knight standing at the foot of Winterfell heard the familiar voice and reined in his horse, calming its restlessness. He then removed his hood, raised his head, and spoke.

"Marlon, it's me."

The knight's voice was somewhat hoarse and deep. This was his home, the place where he grew up, and he recognized the guard on the battlements.

Marlon, the guard, saw the knight's face after he removed his hood and was initially slightly taken aback.

Then, he became overjoyed.

"It's Lord Benjen!"

Benjen Stark was the younger brother of Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell. After the end of Robert's Rebellion, he joined the Night's Watch on behalf of the Stark family.

It had been five or six years since he left Winterfell, and no one expected him to suddenly return at this time.

The news of Benjen's return quickly spread throughout Winterfell.

...

Chapter 168: Winter is Coming

Lord Stark ordered the kitchen to prepare the finest food for a grand feast to welcome his brother home.

Many knights and nobles from the North had gathered in Winterfell, as the entire region was actively preparing for war. They were heeding the call of King Robert to cross the sea and attack the Targaryen remnants on the continent of Essos.

While the nobles of the other six kingdoms were displeased with the King's summons, as they had just recently answered a call to arms and fulfilled their duty of loyalty to the king, Lord Stark was different. He and King Robert were close friends, and he unconditionally supported the King's call. The North was preparing for war in full force.

However, even with his noble Stark name and status as the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard's decision was met with some criticism from the other northern nobles. They privately cursed their Stark lord, calling him a loyal dog who didn't care about the well-being of the North, but ultimately sent their men to support the cause.

The timing of Benjen's return was perfect, as nobles and knights from all over the North were present in Winterfell. Eddard organized a grand feast to serve as a pledge of allegiance before the campaign, as well as to celebrate Benjen's return.

Benjen did not object to the grand feast, but he quickly appeared in his elder brother's room, telling Eddard he had something important to discuss privately.

...

With a click, Benjen closed the door behind them once they entered the room.

"What's going on, Benjen?" Eddard asked, his smile fading, knowing his brother was not one to act without reason.

"Eddard," Benjen replied, his gaze intense and his tone serious, "Winter is coming."

Silence filled the room as Eddard initially struggled to understand why Benjen had suddenly brought up their family motto. But then, realization dawned on him.

"What?" he asked.

Winter might just mean colder weather and occasional snowfall for people in other regions, but for the North, each winter was a tremendous ordeal. The white snowflakes seemed like harbingers of death, reaping the lives of Northerners. Countless Northern families were left in ruin after each long winter, with many freezing or starving to death huddled together in their homes.

"How could winter come so soon?" Eddard Stark's face paled, completely unprepared for the swift arrival of the cold season.

No one knew the arrival of winter better than the Night's Watch, stationed at the Wall. Even the Citadel couldn't match their knowledge. The brothers of the Night's Watch were the first to feel the cold before anyone in the Seven Kingdoms.

"The motto 'Winter is Coming' serves as a reminder for us to never forget winter, as it can arrive at any moment."

...

"Moreover... reality is just so swift, elder brother."

Benjen Stark's face was solemn, and his breath turned to mist in the cold air.

"You see..."

Watching the mist from his breath, Eddard's face also grew serious. Even though there was no fire in his room, the temperature had already dropped rapidly.

Creak...

Eddard's gloved hand clenched slightly, the sound of his knuckles cracking crisp and clear.

Every winter in the North was akin to a battle with demons, and losing such a battle meant death.

"I understand, Benjen."

"Thank you for the reminder."

The dark-haired man's face was somewhat pained, but he still nodded solemnly.

"Father."

At that moment, a young girl quietly pushed the door open and peeked her head in.

She had a head of soft auburn hair and a pair of beautiful blue eyes, having perfectly inherited her mother's exceptional genes.

Seeing her father, her lovely eyes blinked, and she ran over to grab the hem of his clothes.

"Mother says the feast is ready, and she wants you and..."

The girl hid behind her father and sneakily glanced at the man who looked somewhat similar to her father, a man weathered by life, before timidly speaking.

"And... Uncle Benjen to come."

She had only heard of Benjen Stark's name since he had already left Winterfell when she was born, but this was the first time she had met him.

"Alright, Sansa."

"Tell your mother we'll be right there."

Eddard gently rubbed his daughter's hair, bent down to nuzzle her face, and then sent her off ahead.

He then looked back at Benjen.

"Your niece, Sansa."

Benjen also turned his head to watch the girl's retreating figure, her long dress trailing behind her, and nodded slightly.

"I've heard."

"A lovely girl, very much like Catelyn."

Benjen then patted his own body, realizing that besides his sword and the dagger hidden in his boots, he had nothing else.

The man's hand stiffened, and a hint of embarrassment appeared on his usually stern face for the first time.

"I came in such a hurry; I should have brought something with me if I had known..."

However, Eddard looked at his brother's embarrassed expression, and a smile appeared on his previously solemn face.

"Benjen, you're still the same as before."

Splash—

Eddard then patted his brother's shoulder, and the two embraced for the first time since their reunion.

After the embrace, the smile on Eddard's face vanished. He looked at Benjen Stark's face and spoke solemnly.

"Alright… I know what to do next."

"I will personally write a letter to Robert explaining this matter."

Chapter 169: Tobho Mott

A cold wind blew southward from the distant lands of eternal winter, breaking through the mighty Wall, crossing mountains, rivers, and seas with heavy steps.

Suddenly, a heavy snowfall began.

Yet, far away in Essos, there was no hint of the cold, let alone the sight of snowflakes unseen for years.

Under the vast azure sky, a gentle breeze accompanied the white clouds, and Viserys rode, clad in armor.

Adorned with a snowy white fur cloak, a black three-headed dragon emblem, and a sword hanging at his waist, he rode atop a white warhorse.

Since acquiring the Heart of a Fallen Star, Viserys had been researching how to forge it into a weapon, but the best blacksmiths in Essos couldn't forge the mysterious stone.

So, Viserys had no choice but to wait patiently while seeking a master blacksmith capable of melting the Heart of a Fallen Star.

The world's best craftsmen were said to be in Qohor, who held the secret of reforging Valyrian steel. However, the Qohorik guarded this knowledge strictly, and anyone caught trying to pry into their secrets would be punished.

Viserys couldn't simply invite a Qohorik master blacksmith to help him, nor could he trust them with the precious Heart of a Fallen Star.

Eventually, one of his followers, a wandering knight who had once heard of the 'true dragon' and crossed the seas to pledge his allegiance, offered advice.

He told Viserys about a blacksmith shop in King's Landing, located atop Visenya's Hill on the Street of Steel, where a master weaponsmith named Tobho Mott worked. His craftsmanship was said to be superb.

The wandering knight had once commissioned a longsword from Tobho Mott, who had mentioned at the time that he had studied forging in Qohor and knew the secrets of Valyrian steel and its spells.

The wandering knight then took the sword from his waist and handed it to Viserys to examine.

Upon closer inspection, Viserys found that Tobho's craftsmanship indeed seemed better than that of the blacksmiths in Essos.

Thus, Viserys immediately dispatched men to King's Landing to secretly 'invite' the master blacksmith.

After such a long wait, the master blacksmith had finally been brought across the sea.

At the moment, Viserys stood atop a hill on his horse, surrounded by a dozen knights on horseback.

Then, suddenly.

Whoosh—

A desolate, melodious sound rang out above everyone's heads.

A massive shadow was cast on the ground, covering the knights below, before swiftly soaring into the distance.

Viserys' warhorse remained relatively calm, only slightly startled and snorting uneasily.

The horses of the knights surrounding Viserys were nearly scared senseless, their legs giving way as they shivered and collapsed to the ground.

Roar—

A loud dragon roar echoed from afar, accompanied by intense flames. It seemed Balerion had found its prey.

Tobho Mott, the master blacksmith from King's Landing who was being escorted over, had not seen the figure streaking across the sky. He had only heard the terrifying roar, which left his legs feeling numb and unsteady. He required the support of the soldiers beside him to remain standing.

This was the awe-inspiring presence of a creature at the top of the food chain, just as the roar of a tiger or lion would make one's heart tremble with fear, dragons were on a whole other level.

"What...what is that sound?"

Beads of cold sweat rolled down Tobho Mott's bald head as his pale beard and voice trembled. He turned to the soldier supporting him and asked.

"Of course, it's a dragon."

The soldier holding the old man replied impatiently.

He couldn't see how this fellow could be a master blacksmith. Even the boy who had come with him seemed to have more courage.

Could this nearly bald man be a fraud?

The soldier looked up and down at the renowned blacksmith from King's Landing with suspicion.

Beside them was a black-haired, wide-eyed boy who had also been frightened by the piercing, terrifying roar and almost ran away.

However, seeing that the surrounding soldiers remained calm, his inner unease gradually subsided.

In his naive mind, since the people around him weren't afraid, there was no reason for him to be afraid either.

After all, he had no noble bloodline and only his own wretched life to worry about. Why should he be afraid if others weren't?

So, the black-haired boy gathered his courage, lifted his head, and tried to locate the source of the sound.

At that moment, they were finally brought before Viserys.

Viserys was currently watching Balerion, the black dragon, hunt in the distance, his hand shading his eyes from the sun.

For some unknown reason, Balerion's growth rate was much more terrifying than that of his siblings.

After a few months, Rhaegal and Viserion had indeed grown quite a bit, but they were still somewhat clumsy, mastering their flying skills.

However, Balerion was not only three times larger than them, but he had also grown to be the length of a fully-grown Dothraki warhorse. Including his tail, he reached an astonishing four meters.

Moreover, he could hunt on his own with great skill. Sometimes, when he wanted seafood, he could fly all the way to the coast of Andalos and dive into the sea to catch fish.

Because of his frequent appearances, many people knew there was a dragon in Andalos now, but this news couldn't be kept secret anyway.

Although Balerion was growing rapidly, Viserys hadn't tried riding him yet. Even with a strong mental connection to the dragon, it took great courage to sit on its back.

After all, once you're up there, coming back down would likely require several roast oxen to accomplish.

Viserys was currently focused on building a bond with Balerion, who hadn't passed his juvenile stage. Riding the dragon could wait for a while.

...

"Your Grace, the person has been brought."

"This is Master Tobho Mott, the blacksmith from King's Landing."

The soldier led Tobho Mott to Viserys and introduced him.

Viserys withdrew his gaze from the distant scene and realized his guest had arrived.

Holding the reins with one hand, he looked up and down at the master blacksmith, then lightly patted the saddle and dismounted.

"Welcome to Andalos."

"Master Tobho Mott."

...

Chapter 170: Forging Weapons

Viserys spoke softly, but he didn't pay much attention to the boy who followed the master.

He assumed he was merely an apprentice.

Upon seeing Viserys, Tobho Mott immediately fell to his knees and exclaimed.

"I've long heard of the true king across the Narrow Sea, and today I am fortunate to behold Your Majesty's visage."

Ever since Tobho Mott had been 'invited' by Viserys' envoy, he had been terrified throughout the journey.

His unfortunate apprentice had also witnessed the scene and was likewise 'invited' to join them.

The master blacksmith had initially been terrified, believing he had encountered slave traders and was being kidnapped to be sold as a slave on the continent of Essos.

However, upon disembarking and being personally welcomed by the local customs officials, and then riding in the most comfortable carriage along a smooth road, with guards even protecting him, Tobho's heart began to settle somewhat.

It was only then that he discovered he had been brought here by the 'Young Dragon', whose fame had already spread throughout King's Landing.

News of Viserys across the Narrow Sea had been strictly prohibited in the Red Keep, and the gold cloaks had been cracking down on those who dared to discuss it.

Yet, it was impossible to completely suppress such rumors, and solid evidence was difficult to come by.

After all, people didn't write these things down in black and white on the walls. As long as they steadfastly denied it when arrested, the gold cloaks couldn't do much, except lock them in jail, beat them up, and then release them.

Moreover, King's Landing was a chaotic mix of people and underground forces, mostly consisting of lower-class citizens living in the gray areas of society, like thieves and bandits.

The gold cloaks dared not enter their territory, lest they be ambushed, beaten, and left empty-handed.

The resentment against House Lannister was high in King's Landing right after the usurper's war.

Several Lannister soldiers had gone missing during patrols, only for their bodies to be hung from poles atop the Mud Gate the next day – a blatant slap in the face to the Lord of Casterly Rock.

Thus, it was impossible to control public opinion in the densely populated and chaotic King's Landing.

Rumors of the 'True Dragon', 'The Rightful Owner of the Iron Throne', 'The True King', 'The Young Dragon', and other titles and information about Viserys spread like wildfire throughout King's Landing.

Most of these rumors were spread by those dissatisfied with the current situation, seeking change and an outlet for their frustration.

As a blacksmith making a living in King's Landing, Tobho Mott had naturally heard of Viserys and even of his dragons.

However, at the time, he had held Viserys in contempt, considering him a mere remnant of the old Targaryen era and believing that dragons, having been extinct for a century, could not possibly reemerge.

The times had changed, and the Targaryen dynasty had come to an end. House Baratheon was now the rightful ruler of the Iron Throne.

Those who still clung to the Targaryens were seen as foolish conservatives, unable to adapt to the changing times.

Back then, Tobho had even quarreled with others over their differing opinions on the matter.

But now…

Thud, thud, thud...

The master blacksmith's prostrate was as vigorous as pounding garlic, while he repeatedly called out 'True King,' seemingly in awe of Viserys' charisma.

Roar—

Another dragon's roar echoed from afar, as if carrying an ancient, desolate aura, like a primeval creature that had traversed countless ages emitting a powerful roar, striking fear into people's hearts and sending chills down their spines.

Hearing this terrifying roar once again, Tobho's body trembled violently as he knelt on the ground, not daring to lift his head for a glimpse.

He could no longer doubt the existence of dragons.

Whoosh~

A massive shadow swept over everyone's heads once more, flying off into the distance, stirring up dust and fallen leaves on the ground with the gale it created.

A black-haired boy, kneeling beside his master, looked up with curiosity, only to see the silhouette of the giant dragon flying away. His eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open in disbelief as he whispered in amazement.

"Is... is that a dragon?"

Viserys, hearing the boy's exclamation, glanced at him briefly.

He then helped Tobho up from the ground, displaying the demeanor of a king who respects the learned.

Andalos truly needed a master blacksmith to improve its overall military technology, forging sharper weapons and more resilient armor.

Morale and training were indeed crucial in an army's combat operations; however, equipment was equally important.

A sword that remains intact after one hundred strikes is different from a sword that stays sharp after two hundred strikes. A weapon that shatters upon impact in battle is a hazard to the soldiers wielding it.

Viserys placed great emphasis on the quality of the soldiers' weapons and armor. Andalos had a dedicated armory that purchased the highest quality iron ore and produced weapons with a low rate of defects.

Tobho Mott, a master blacksmith, was a highly sought-after professional in most places, but not in King's Landing, where chaos ruled. This gave Viserys the opportunity to have his men knock him out, bag him, and take him away.

The group then returned to the castle.

Viserys retrieved the Heart of a Red Comet from his treasury.

Crack—

As Viserys opened the chest, the Heart of a Red Comet lay quietly within, still as viBenjent as blood, as pure and transparent as a ruby.

Upon opening the chest, everyone in the room could feel the temperature drop noticeably.

This Heart of a Red Comet still possessed an extremely low temperature, feeling like touching a block of ice.

Tobho's gaze was instantly drawn to it as the chest was opened.

Although the master blacksmith was somewhat cowardly and groveled for mercy, his heartbeat raced, and his eyes widened at the sight of such a precious material, even forgetting his recent fear.

For Tobho Mott, having returned from his studies in Qohor, his lifelong dream was to forge an unparalleled legendary weapon that would be passed down for centuries.

However, to forge such a weapon, one would need a material as rare as Valyrian steel.

Unfortunately, Valyria had been destroyed, and the technique for forging Valyrian steel had vanished with the Doom.

All that remained in the world were the named Valyrian steel swords.

His only hope was to melt them down and create new weapons, but they would not be weapons he forged from scratch.

However, at this moment, Tobho's heart raced as he saw new hope.

"Are you truly willing to entrust this Heart of a Red Comet to me for forging?" he asked, struggling to contain his excitement as he cradled the precious Heart of a Red Comet, then continued to ask.

"Your Grace, may I know what type of weapon you are skilled in using?"

Chapter 171: One-handed Sword

Viserys pondered for a moment, though he had already thought of an answer to this question long ago, he confirmed it once again in his heart.

"A one-handed sword."

Viserys was proficient in many weapons. He had once followed the Red Keep's master-at-arms and practiced traditional knight swordsmanship, taught to his elder brother, Sir William Darry, which involved the use of one-handed swords or two-handed broadswords.

Later, he briefly trained with Braavos' First Swordsman, Syrio Forel, in the art of the Water Dance. This experience deepened Viserys' understanding of swordsmanship, though it was brief.

Subsequently, when Oberyn Martell arrived at Dragonstone and traveled to Andalos, Viserys practiced spear and lance techniques with him, which were more suitable for combat on horseback.

As the bearer of the 'Sun-piercer' sigil, House Martell had always had an excellent grasp of long weapons. Thus, Oberyn's guidance greatly improved Viserys' combat skills on horseback.

Viserys was proficient in both spears and swords, but when choosing, he prioritized one over the other.

A sword.

The spear was more practical for him, but the priority lay in the sword.

Viserys had many reasons for making this choice.

The sword as a weapon had strong symbolic significance, representing power and status. Many families used the sword as a symbol of their heritage.

Moreover, the Heart of the Comet was a unique treasure, even rarer than Valyrian steel. Valyrian steel weapons were everywhere, but it seemed that only House Dayne had a two-handed broadsword forged from a comet's heart.

Viserys could craft a side-sword with it, which would increase his influence and cohesion.

The size of the Heart of the Comet also determined that it was not enough to forge a spear, but there was more than enough material to make a spearhead, with some even left to make a dagger.

However, using it to forge a one-handed sword would be just the right size. The remaining material could be used as decoration on the hilt or scabbard.

"A one-handed sword, then?"

Master Tobho held the Heart of the Comet in his hands, which were reddened from the cold. He weighed it and examined the size before nodding.

"No problem, Your Grace."

Master Tobho then asked Viserys for paper and pen, and drew a sketch on the spot.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him. For a blacksmith, being trusted to forge a legendary weapon with ample materials was a dream come true.

Viserys had given him this opportunity, so Master Tobho suppressed his excitement, sketched a design on the ground, and handed it to Viserys.

Longswords were the most common weapon for knights in Westeros, so Tobho easily drafted the sketch. The sword was about three feet long, double-edged, with a heavy crossguard above the hilt to protect the wielder's fingers during combat.

Perhaps due to his excitement, Tobho's inspiration flourished, and he added some artistic touches to the hilt and crossguard.

As an experienced blacksmith, he could tell at a glance how big of a weapon could be forged from this material.

Using the Heart of the Comet to forge a longsword might leave some excess material, which could be used to make the sword a little longer for others, turning it into a hand-and-a-half sword.

However, the wielder of this sword was Viserys, a Targaryen with royal blood. Naturally, he couldn't use a hand-and-a -half sword, which could be considered a 'bastard sword.'

Therefore, the sword's specifications were set at the standard length of a 'three-foot sword,' and Tobho could only utilize the remaining material from other angles.

...

Tobho had sketched out a rough design for the sword, in which he lengthened the hilt a bit.

The crossguard was artistically crafted into the shape of a dragon's claw with five fingers, as if a dragon's claw was gripping the blade. At the end of the long hilt, there was a small, fierce dragon's head.

Master Tobho presented the sketch to Viserys, who examined it and was generally satisfied with Tobho Mott's design.

As expected of a master smith capable of forging Valyrian steel, the design of the sword was near perfection.

However, Viserys made some adjustments according to his personal preferences.

He knew that the dragon's head at the end of the hilt was for counterweight, to balance the overall feel of the longsword; otherwise, a top-heavy or bottom-heavy sword would affect a knight's use of the weapon.

The adjustment of the weight relied on the smith's skill and the preferences of the swordsman.

"Remove this dragon's head."

"Replace it with an equal-weighted golden or brass counterweight ball."

Viserys felt that the dragon's head was a bit ostentatious and didn't match his aesthetic taste. He requested a more modest decoration, while retaining the design of the dragon's claw crossguard.

"I understand, Your Grace."

Master Tobho noted Viserys' requested changes and nodded.

"This is still just a rough sketch, not the final design of the sword."

Forging was a complex craft, and as this was related to the goal he had been striving for his entire life, he would naturally return to his workshop to refine the design further.

Then, as if Tobho Mott had thought of something, he slapped his forehead and spoke.

"Your Grace."

"To forge this sword with the Heart of the Comet, my apprentices and I alone are not enough."

"I need to borrow a few death-row prisoners to help."

Tobho requested.

"Death-row prisoners?"

Viserys was slightly taken aback by Master Tobho's request, unsure of what he needed the prisoners for, and why others couldn't help.

Since the lives of these prisoners were worth little and they were going to die anyway, Viserys didn't think too much about it and agreed.

"Alright, Master Tobho, take as many death-row prisoners as you need."

"Since that's the case, I entrust the forging of this sword to you, using the Heart of the Comet."

Viserys nodded slightly, preparing to let Tobho Mott and his apprentice leave.

A faint female voice came from outside the room.

"The Heart of the Comet is a gift from the Lord of Light to Your Grace."

"Born from the flames, it may forge the legendary 'Lightbringer.'"

Hearing the woman's voice, Viserys turned his head towards the doorway.

A woman dressed in a red robe stood quietly by the door, gazing at the people inside the room.

Her beautiful eyes sparkled with an unusual light as they stared at the Heart of the Comet in Master Tobho's hand.

...

Chapter 172: The Messenger of Light

"What does this have to do with the Lord of Light?"

Viserys tilted his head and asked the question, looking at Melisandre, the lady from Asshai.

He had watched this heart of a fallen star drop from the sky, almost hitting him, yet this woman claimed it was a gift from the Lord of Light?

Viserys had arrived too late, and the heart had been snatched up by a group of R'hllor's followers.

However, they did not have the fortune to enjoy it. Viserys had them all executed by the banks of the Rhoyne, their bodies thrown into the river, and the heart of the fallen star fell into his hands.

Could it be that the followers of R'hllor were the 'true god's' messengers sent to deliver this gift?

Viserys couldn't help but scoff at the thought.

He knew that this woman was fanatically devoted to the faith of R'hllor, and she did possess some genuine abilities. However, he hadn't expected Melisandre to attribute everything to her 'true god.'

"I never speak falsehoods."

Sensing Viserys' skepticism in his tone, Melisandre spoke solemnly, her face serious.

However, her beautiful appearance and alluring attire made it difficult to take her seriously.

"I can feel the blazing flames within this heart of a fallen star, and they rival the heat of the sun in the sky. This is the divine power of the great Lord of Light, R'hllor."

Melisandre's serious words left Viserys and Master Tobho in the room exchanging glances.

cough

It was then that Tobho Mott cleared his throat and spoke politely.

"My lady."

Master Tobho had come to Dragonstone for the first time and did not know Melisandre's name.

"I believe… this heart of a fallen star is a cold material?"

Tobho's hands were stiff and cold from touching it, nothing like the blazing flames Melisandre described, or anything that could rival the sun in the sky.

Master Tobho had heard the name 'Lord of Light' while in King's Landing, but the people there preferred to call him the 'Red God.'

The 'Mad King,' Viserys' father, had received followers of the Red God, but the red-robed priest, Thoros, had not shown the fire magic that Aerys II had anticipated.

This matter had caused quite an uproar at the time, with many followers of the Faith of the Seven protesting outside the Red Keep, demanding that the king drive away the deceitful foreigner and uphold the faith of the Seven.

And from the king's words… this woman seemed to be a priestess of the Red God?

"Ordinary people are born ignorant and cannot understand the greatness of the Lord of Light. But if you do not follow the Lord of Light, your ignorance will destroy you in the future."

Facing Master Tobho's rebuttal, Melisandre spoke calmly.

Her words left the bald-headed old blacksmith speechless, surprised by the sharp and poisonous tongue of the Red Priestess.

"I don't know whether ordinary people are ignorant or not, but it feels cold to the touch!"

Although Master Tobho had never seen a heart of a fallen star, such a priceless material, before.

He had heard that the legendary sword 'Dawn' of House Dayne was forged from the heart of a fallen star, its blade pale as milky white glass.

However, in his own area of expertise, Master Tobho would not tolerate being questioned by others. Moreover, Viserys was present, and he did not want the king to underestimate him, eventually entrusting the precious heart of a fallen star to someone else to forge.

Master Tobho believed that the essence of the heart of the fallen star was too cold, perhaps containing cold magical power, similar to enchanted Valyrian steel.

He wanted to use some warm materials as auxiliary materials for forging the divine sword, so that the sword's resilience could reach the highest level, indestructible, and capable of cutting through iron like mud.

...

Now the old blacksmith's temper flared up, and he wanted to have a good debate with this red priestess.

However, Melisandre, seeing Master Tobho's face turning red with determination, spoke with a calm voice.

"Master Tobho Mott, do you not know that when people freeze to death, they actually feel very warm?"

"You..."

Tobho Mott was rendered speechless by Melisandre, while Viserys stood nearby, watching the two argue with great interest and not interrupting.

Eventually, seeing that the old blacksmith was left speechless by Melisandre, Viserys turned to the priestess and asked,

"Melisandre, what do you want to do?"

Viserys was curious as to why Melisandre would suddenly involve herself in this matter.

However, he did not think she had any ill intentions.

It seemed that she truly believed that he was the so-called 'savior' who would save the world in the future, the true king representing fire and light.

And not Stannis, whom she was originally supposed to support.

In this era, Stannis had just acquired the impoverished Dragonstone, and Viserys had left him with nothing.

All the wealth, precious books, dragon bones, a large amount of dragonglass, and even stone-like dragon eggs accumulated by House Targaryen over generations had been moved from Dragonstone to Andalos by Viserys in just a few years.

Therefore, when Viserys heard that Stannis was living a miserable life now, it was worse than when he had been living at Storm's End and King's Landing before retaking Dragonstone.

Now, Stannis's entire family and soldiers who followed him were tightening their belts to make ends meet.

"Of course, I want to help the true king forge the 'Lightbringer.'"

Upon hearing Viserys's question, Melisandre answered without hesitation.

She did not dare to argue with Viserys using the same words she had used against Master Tobho, but spoke seriously.

However, Viserys looked at her in disbelief.

"You can swing a hammer?"

Viserys examined the beautiful woman, especially her slender arms. It was hard to imagine Melisandre, this woman, working shirtless in a blacksmith's shop, sweating and swinging a heavy hammer.

"Uh..."

Viserys's words left the eloquent Melisandre speechless, her expression seemingly at a loss. She stared at Viserys's cheek for a long time before slowly continuing.

"I'm sorry to disappoint Your Grace, but I cannot swing a hammer."

"I just want to provide some assistance in forging the 'Lightbringer.'"

Melisandre did not specify what help she wanted to provide.

At the same time, she insisted that the heart of the red comet could forge the 'Lightbringer' without explaining why.

Viserys, after considering her request for a moment, nodded in agreement.

"Alright."

Just then, a guard hurried in from outside.

"Your Grace."

He then whispered a few words into Viserys's ear.

Viserys's expression first revealed slight surprise, and then he turned his head in disbelief.

"What? The tombs have been dug up?"

"Who did this? Who bears such a deep grudge?"

...

Chapter 173: Grave Digging

By the time Viserys arrived, a crowd had already gathered outside the desolate area beyond Andalos City.

"Your Majesty."

Viserys rode to the scene on horseback and dismounted. A knight with black hair clad in silver armor approached him.

"A local farmer was the first to discover this."

Viserys glanced at an old man with rolled-up pants and bare feet standing among the crowd.

At that moment, the old man was nervously answering questions from the soldiers. It appeared that he was the one who first discovered that Gillyan's grave had been dug up.

"Reward him with two silver stags."

Viserys nodded and turned his attention away, leaving a retainer to handle the matter.

He then looked back at the black-haired knight.

"Continue. Has the matter been investigated?"

"What's going on?"

This morning, a farmer passing by discovered that a fresh grave had been dug up.

In any religion, the dead should be allowed to rest in peace. The act of digging up someone's grave is undoubtedly a serious crime. Therefore, the enthusiastic old man reported it to the guards at the nearby checkpoint.

The guards on duty sent someone to inspect the site, only to find that it was the grave of 'Maester Gunther', who had been executed by His Majesty not long ago.

His grave had been dug up, and his corpse had disappeared.

The guards then hurriedly relayed this information to the castle. While the matter was not particularly significant, the guards were unsure of its importance.

So, they informed Viserys.

"That's about it. However, what is puzzling is that there don't seem to be any footprints left behind."

The black-haired knight spoke hesitantly, not daring to voice the bold guess lurking in his heart.

He was also a Westerosi sellsword who had once been employed by a noble in the Vale. He had served as a castle's master-at-arms and steward for a time, possessing some management skills.

Later, he heard rumors of the Targaryen resurgence in Essos and their dragons.

After careful consideration, he terminated his contract with the Vale noble and, like many disillusioned wandering knights of Westeros, embarked on a merchant ship bound for Essos with dreams of pledging loyalty to their king in Andalos.

"Is that so?"

Viserys furrowed his brow slightly, unsure of what to say. The situation was indeed unsettling.

"Why would anyone want to dig up his grave?"

Gillyan Lannister had been examined at the time and was confirmed to have lost both heartbeat and breath.

His corpse had been placed in a coffin and left in the courtyard overnight. By the next day, it had already begun to emit the stench of decay. It was then carried out of the castle and hastily buried in a random plot outside the city.

Furthermore, Gillyan had been stripped of all his possessions, and there were no valuable burial items.

Who would be interested in a corpse with nothing to offer?

Afterward, Viserys approached the crowd, covering his mouth and nose with his hand.

"Your Majesty."

"My king." .

The soldiers and civilians who were gathered around here watching made way as they saw him approaching. Many recognized Viserys, primarily due to his iconic silver hair and the fact that he was surrounded by guards, making him easily identifiable.

Viserys gave a slight nod and then came to the dug-up grave, squatting down to take a closer look.

However, after only a glance, Viserys furrowed his brow.

"Such a mess."

The entire area around Gillyan's grave had become a chaotic scene, with soil dug up and scattered to the sides. The coffin that had once held the body was now brutally split open, leaving a huge gash, as if a wild beast had torn through the wood.

"But... if someone came for the body..."

"Why would the gravedigger be so reckless and risk damaging Gillyan's corpse?"

Viserys couldn't make sense of it.

He had a thought in his mind earlier that the Lannister spy wasn't just Gillyan, but that there were other accomplices as well. Upon hearing of Gillyan's death, these people might have tried to steal his body to take it back to Tywin.

But now, seeing the disaster before him, Viserys couldn't help but doubt this idea.

If their true purpose was indeed to retrieve the body, they should not have been so violent.

Otherwise, wouldn't Tywin, a man known for being protective of his own, punish them severely for returning a battered corpse?

Trying to examine the footprints and paths of those responsible was now impossible for Viserys.

The surrounding traces had all been trampled by the onlookers.

Seeing Viserys's slightly furrowed brow and his gaze sweeping over the disordered footprints, the black-haired knight finally realized his serious mistake - he should have cleared the area.

"My apologies, Your Grace..."

The black-haired knight in silver armor tried to explain with an awkward expression, but Viserys simply waved his hand.

"It's not your fault."

After all, the knight wasn't the first to arrive here, and perhaps by the time he did, the area was already a mess.

Even if there were footprints, tracking them far with their current resources would be impossible, only providing a general direction.

"It's not a big deal. It's just that Gillyan's grave has been dug up."

"Let's put an end to this matter."

Viserys took a few more glances at the desecrated grave, then lost interest.

After all, evidence and traces had already been destroyed, and even a brilliant detective couldn't find anything.

Viserys then left the crowd and approached his warhorse, taking the reins from his attendant.

The white warhorse gently nuzzled his hair, and Viserys patted his companion's neck before turning to the black-haired knight with another reminder.

"If there's any more information about this, feel free to report it. If not, let it be."

"Understood."

The black-haired knight nodded hurriedly, reaching out to help Viserys onto his horse.

"No need."

Viserys declined his help.

With his polished boots firmly on the ground, the young king stepped onto the stirrup, mounted his horse, and took one last look at the gaping hole in the ground. He then turned his horse around.

"Let's go."

The attendants who had followed him from the castle also mounted their horses, and they all headed back in the direction of the castle.

...

Chapter 174: Withdrawal

Since the news of winter's approach had arrived, some time had passed.

The Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, disbanded the assembled Northern army that was preparing to join the war and urged them to return to their homes in order to brace for the imminent arrival of the harsh winter.

The dissolution of the Northern army cast a thick shadow over the war that King Robert sought to orchestrate.

The future was uncertain.

After all, the North had always been King Robert's staunchest supporter. Now that the North had abandoned their support for the Iron Throne, the loyalty of the nobility from the other regions was even more uncertain.

During the subsequent council meeting in the throne room, the hall was brightly lit.

The Baratheon family's sigil, featuring the crowned stag, adorned the walls. The rotund King Robert sat on the cold Iron Throne.

Below, the dignitaries of King's Landing stood in a dense crowd on both sides.

Hand of the King Jon Arryn, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Barristan Selmy, the Master of Coin, the Master of Laws, Stannis as Master of Ships, and Master of Whisperers Varys were at the forefront of the crowd.

This time, it hadn't even been Jon Arryn's turn to speak as the 'anti-war vanguard.'

Eager nobles stepped forward from below, imploring His Majesty to abandon the idea of fighting across the sea.

The cost and sacrifices of waging a war across the sea were enormous, and the gains were minimal. Naturally, the nobles were not willing to engage in such a conflict.

Moreover, the news of winter's arrival had already spread.

If it were a normal winter, aside from the North and the Riverlands, the other regions wouldn't be severely affected by the cold.

The harvests would only decrease slightly, and stocking up on grain could solve the problem. At worst, they would have to halt production and stay indoors; the nobility wouldn't starve or freeze to death.

The Vale and the Westerlands were protected by mountains that somewhat shielded them from the cold winds from the North. At least, it wasn't as cold there.

However, the North and the Riverlands were vast plains where the cold air could envelop an extensive area, including King's Landing and possibly reaching the Reach, all covered in a blanket of snow.

As for Dorne, it had no issues, with the mountain range blocking winter's advance. Located at the southernmost tip of Westeros, Dorne only experienced a mild breeze.

Nevertheless, in the most affected regions, the North and the Riverlands, the people would struggle to survive the long winter without proper preparation.

Jon Arryn remained silent. As the first Hand of the King after the war, his primary responsibility was to lead the kingdom out of the quagmire of war and restore its economy.

Therefore, he had always tried to avoid warfare. However, reality did not allow him to do so.

He was well aware of the threat posed by the dragons and the need to eliminate them. But with winter approaching and the current state of the kingdom, it was difficult to wage this battle.

The elderly Hand did not know what to do in this situation.

Despite his silence, the anti-war sentiment from below continued to surge like a tide.

It was understandable that people did not want to wage war in winter.

After all, nobody wanted to return from battle to find their loved ones frozen or starved to death in the cold winds.

The Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, the king's dear brother, had sent a letter to King's Landing explaining the situation to Robert.

Although Robert had furiously smashed his bedroom in response, the beautiful blonde queen had angrily moved to another room that night, leaving Robert alone in his ruined bedroom.

But after venting his anger, Robert had no choice but to accept the reality.

Even as king, he could not demand that the soldiers of the North abandon their families in the face of the coming winter and embark on a distant expedition to Andalos.

If Robert really did that, not only would the soldiers mutiny, but even his dear brother Eddard might turn against him.

In the end, Robert had to swallow his anger. If the Northern army couldn't come, he would gather the forces of the other six kingdoms and kill that damned Targaryen remnant.

Nowadays, the mere mention of Viserys' name made Robert's teeth itch with hatred, wishing he could devour him alive.

However, hate alone was not enough; Robert had no way to deal with him.

Viserys was hiding too far away. If Andalos and Westeros were adjacent, Robert would have long since led an expedition to scatter his ashes.

But the vast sea separating the two continents became an insurmountable obstacle.

Just as when the Andals invaded Westeros, the Andals, First Men, and Children of the Forest fought for nearly a thousand years before the Andals gained the upper hand.

Now, Robert wanted to cross the sea and deal with the enemy on the other side, but it was not so easy in a short period of time.

At the moment, Robert sat on the cold Iron Throne, watching the nobles opposing him rise like a tide. His fist clenched tightly, blood boiling with anger.

If it were just one or two nobles, Robert wouldn't mind cutting off their heads and displaying them atop the Red Keep.

But now there were too many people, almost no one wanted to send their able-bodied men to war at this time.

"Enough!"

"You fools with your asses for brains!"

Suddenly, without warning, King Robert erupted in anger, throwing the cup in his hand to the ground.

Crash—

The expensive glass shattered, striking the pleading nobles below, causing blood to flow.

The sudden turn of events left the nobles trembling and speechless.

"Dragons!"

"Viserys has dragons now!"

The corpulent Robert stood up from the Iron Throne, his fury overwhelming, his black beard bristling like steel wool, his voice thundering through the throne room.

"Shouldn't we kill the dragon in its cradle before it grows up, or do you want to wait until it's grown and burns all you worthless swine inside your castles?"

When Aegon conquered Westeros with his three dragons, he had burned Harrenhal, the supposedly 'impregnable' fortress, into a giant furnace. The stone did not burn, but dragonfire roasted the last king of the Iron Islands and the Riverlands, 'Black Harren' Hoare, along with his family within the castle.

Now, Robert angrily brought up the most famous atrocity from over 290 years ago.

The nobles below shivered, not daring to argue with the enraged King Robert.

In Robert's eyes, these nobles, each one cowering and silent, looked like a bunch of worms.

Once he had conquered King's Landing, these nobles, who had once sworn loyalty to the Targaryens, had immediately bent the knee and surrendered, praising the merits of House Baratheon and denouncing the sins of the Targaryens.

At that time, Robert had felt elated, but now he realized that if the Targaryens ever returned to power, these people would likely change their tune.

However, as Robert was venting his anger in the throne room, Queen Cersei, in the Tower of the Hand within the Red Keep, suddenly received a message from a maid.

"My father is here?"

The elegant, golden-haired woman stood up from her dressing table, looking incredulous.

Chapter 175: Tywin

After the council meeting ended, Robert hurried back to his own bedroom.

And there was already someone waiting for him there.

Bang—

Robert angrily pushed the door open.

Inside the king's chamber, a tall and slender man with broad shoulders was sitting in a chair, waiting for his return.

The man's head was slightly balding, with thick golden sideburns and a beard, and his pale green eyes held an awe-inspiring authority.

He was none other than Queen Cersei's father, King Robert's father-in-law, and the Lord of Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister. Seated on the chair in front of him was his daughter Cersei.

Behind the chair where Cersei sat, there was a knight wearing a white cloak, with a handsome and clean face, neatly trimmed stubble, and a slightly raised chin, which made him appear somewhat arrogant to others.

His one hand gripped the hilt of his sword as he stood behind the chair. He was the Queen's younger brother, 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister.

The king had not yet returned after receiving a report, and the Lannister family of three was chatting.

Then, from afar, they could hear the thunderous footsteps outside the door. The door was violently pushed open, and King Robert strode in.

Tywin, who was sitting in the chair, chatting with his two children, couldn't help but frown slightly at the sight, and then exchanged a glance with his daughter.

Cersei had just been complaining to her father about her husband's volatile temper, lamenting that she hadn't enjoyed any benefits as a queen in the Red Keep, and that her days in Casterly Rock as a child were better.

Tywin advised his daughter that, regardless of the circumstances, she should always put the family's honor first. Robert was the king, and the idea of her divorcing the king was nearly impossible.

At this moment, Tywin seemed to understand his daughter's predicament in King's Landing.

His son-in-law had changed greatly, indeed, looking nothing like the young man of valor and spirit he once was. Now he was fat, like a pregnant woman, his belly jiggling as he walked.

"Your Grace."

Tywin stood up from his chair, placing both hands in front of him. He looked at Robert's current appearance and squinted his eyes, then spoke in a calm tone.

Robert, who had just entered the room with a belly full of rage and nowhere to vent it, seemed to have his anger somewhat deflated by his father-in-law's gaze.

Only then did he remember that his attendant had reminded him that the Lord of Casterly Rock had arrived.

But at that moment, Robert was in a fit of rage and had completely forgotten about it.

"I apologize, I just had to handle some state affairs."

Robert grumbled a bit, and after two snorts, the anger in his stomach subsided quite a bit, but his tone was still filled with irritation.

"When did the Lord of Casterly Rock arrive?"

"Just when Your Grace was in the throne room."

Tywin stood in front of the chair, his eyes calmly looking at his son-in-law as he spoke.

"It's been many years since I've been to King's Landing, so I thought it would be a good time to visit Cersei and Jaime."

Tywin's son and daughter were both in King's Landing, with only his unappreciated youngest son Tyrion left at home. So, it was natural for Tywin to come and see his children.

Robert, however, sat down in his specially designed seat with a creaking noise from the overburdened chair.

He then picked up his wine glass from the cluttered desk filled with documents and held it in his hand. Hearing his father-in-law's words, he nodded slightly.

"Ah... visiting Cersei and Jaime."

"Alright," Robert nodded, only to realize that his wine glass was still empty. He glared angrily at the attendant who failed to notice this. "Pour the wine!"

"Yes, yes, Your Grace." The attendant standing dutifully behind Robert with the wine pitcher trembled at the King's sudden outburst. He hastily poured the wine, but his shaking hand caused some to spill onto Robert's hand.

Robert glared at the attendant once more but said nothing this time. The rotund king then raised his glass and drank it all in one gulp, causing his somewhat darkened cheeks to flush with color. The irritation and anger he felt earlier seemed to vanish, and even his mind seemed to clear up.

Setting his wine glass aside, Robert allowed the attendant to refill it before turning his piercing gaze back to Tywin. Tywin, in turn, felt a slight chill in his heart and narrowed his eyes.

Everyone knew that the current king was considered a 'fool,' but a king was still a king. As the man who had conquered Westeros and overthrown Targaryen rule, as long as he lived, Robert was not someone to be belittled by lesser men. Even the cunning Tywin felt pressure under Robert's gaze.

After studying Tywin intently for a while, Robert finally spoke with a booming voice, "Cersei and Jaime are doing well in King's Landing. You need not worry, Lord Tywin."

"Lately, state affairs have been rather busy, and I've neglected spending time with Cersei. Thankfully, her brother Jaime is here as well, so she won't be too bored."

At this point, Robert glanced at his queen. The noble blonde woman noticed her husband's gaze and quickly offered a cooperative smile, nodding slightly. The white-cloaked knight behind her kept his head down, staring at the floor, not responding to the king's words, seemingly lost in thought.

Despite Robert's grandiose words about being busy with state affairs, it was well known among many in King's Landing that the king often slept outside the Red Keep. Even the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, sometimes had to find Robert at 'Chataya's Brothel' when he needed to speak with him. Robert frequented this place owned by a dark-skinned woman from the Summer Islands, utterly disregarding his nation's dignity.

"Thank you, Your Grace," the balding middle-aged man replied, nodding his head calmly.

He had just discussed with his son the possibility of returning to Casterly Rock to inherit his title, only to be refused by Jaime once again.

Robert drank another glass of wine, his face reddening, but the alcohol seemed to sharpen his mind even more. He continued to stare intently at his father-in-law, then abruptly spoke, "Honorable Lord Tywin... your visit this time isn't just to see Cersei and Jaime, is it?"

Robert believed that a man like Tywin wouldn't visit the Red Keep without a reason. He wasn't the type to travel such a distance just to see his children; otherwise, he would have come much sooner.

Chapter 176: Forging Ahead

As Robert's words fell, both Cersei and Jaime in the room were taken aback, exchanging puzzled glances.

"What?"

They had just been catching up with their long-absent father, but he had not mentioned any ulterior motive for his visit.

Tywin, faced with the gazes of the three people in the room, had thoughts swirling in his mind, wondering when he had revealed his intentions. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded in admission.

"You're right, Your Grace. Your guess is quite accurate."

"There is indeed another matter at hand."

Since Robert had seen through him, Tywin decided not to hide any longer and openly admitted it.

"The first matter is to inform you..."

Tywin glanced at Cersei and Jaime, then spoke.

"Your uncle Gellian has passed away."

"What?"

Tywin's sudden revelation shocked everyone, especially Cersei and Jaime, who had not expected this news, particularly Jaime.

"Father, what are you talking about?"

When he and Tyrion were younger, they had loved playing with their uncle Gellian.

Unlike their other uncles and their father, who were stern and serious, only Uncle Gellian was lively. Moreover, the age difference between Gellian and Jaime was not significant, making him feel more like a friend than an uncle.

Jaime knew that at eighteen, Uncle Gellian had set sail on a ship to search for the family's lost Valyrian steel sword and had disappeared for a while. In recent years, he had gone off the grid, still claiming to be searching for it across the world.

However, Jaime never expected to hear the news of his death from his father so abruptly.

"What happened?"

"Father, how could Uncle Gellian have died for no apparent reason?"

Jaime's carefree demeanor vanished, his face turning grim as he clenched the hilt of his sword.

Tywin looked at his son but shook his head without offering any explanation.

Gellian's undercover mission in Andalos was a top-secret affair, known only to Tywin, the king, and Hand of the King Jon. No one else was aware.

Not long ago, Tywin had received a message from the other spies in Andalos, revealing that Gellian's cover had been blown and he had been executed by Viserys with a cup of poisoned wine.

Two of the four Tywin siblings had now perished at the hands of the Targaryens.

This made Tywin wonder if there truly was some form of retribution at play.

He had once betrayed his old friend Aerys and showed no mercy when dealing with the Targaryens, even going so far as to harm women and children.

Now, it seemed that retribution had befallen him one by one.

Tywin, however, was stubborn and resolute. His grief only caused him to briefly doubt himself before dismissing such thoughts.

But in Tywin's heart, the name across the Narrow Sea left an even deeper impression, and he vowed to make them pay in blood someday.

With Robert calling for the lords of the Seven Kingdoms to assemble their forces and invade Andalos, Tywin, as the Warden of the West, had naturally received the news.

He, too, was in favor of cutting the problem out at its root.

"Because if there ever comes a day when the Targaryens return with their dragons and a great army, the fate of House Lannister might be even more dismal than that of the Baratheons.

At the time, Tywin had been ruthless, thinking he could eradicate the Targaryens root and Benjench, yet he never imagined that things would develop to this point, with the Targaryens appearing poised to rise again.

However, as the Lannisters were gathering their forces in the Westerlands, bad news arrived.

Word spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms that their good days were over, and winter was approaching.

Although Tywin's authority in the Westerlands allowed him to demand his bannermen to fight during winter, the cost would be immense.

Undecided, Tywin ultimately set out for King's Landing to discuss the matter face-to-face with the king.

On the matter of eliminating the Targaryens, the Lannisters and Baratheons undoubtedly stood on the same side.

"The second matter."

Tywin calmly announced the death of his brother, and then continued.

"That is to help Your Grace deal with the current troubles."

"Like allowing a dragon to grow, it will bring a catastrophe upon the realm."

"Oh?"

Robert knew of Gillyan's existence; in fact, the first to bring word of the dragons was Gillyan.

But he didn't care about Gillyan's fate; in his view, an agent in enemy territory like Gillyan was bound to die sooner or later.

What concerned him more was how Tywin could resolve the current problems.

"How does the Lord of Lannister intend to proceed?"

"There are two methods, Your Grace."

The middle-aged man sat upright in his chair, dressed in a fine red garment, with a golden roaring lion on his chest.

...

In the Red Keep, Tywin was scheming against Viserys.

Meanwhile, in Andalos.

Time swiftly passed, and three months flew by.

Year 290 AC was drawing to a close, and Andalos was about to welcome a new year.

The sword commissioned from Master Blacksmith Tobho Mott and assisted by Melisandre was finally forged.

Several prisoners who helped Master Tobho forge the sword were suddenly pushed into the furnace by him, shocking his young apprentice, who never expected his master to take such a ruthless action.

Melisandre, on the other hand, remained unperturbed, as if she had long foreseen this turn of events.

"The blood sacrifice is an indispensable step in the Qohorik process of reforging Valyrian steel."

"This is also why those heretics hide this so carefully."

Melisandre spoke softly before turning to look at the frightened black-haired boy.

Soon enough.

News of the sword's completion reached Viserys' ears, and now the silver-haired youth, dressed in a loose robe, sat in a chair reading a letter.

It was a letter from Pentos, which had arrived a few days earlier; however, Viserys had not been at the castle at the time.

Instead, he had been touring the borderlands of his domain in preparation for winter, to see what preparations had been made for the impending cold.

He had just returned this morning.

The letter was written in the name of the Prince of Pentos, but in fact, it conveyed the intentions of several Magisters.

To celebrate the traditional festival of Pentos and promote friendship between the two city-states, Pentos once again invited Viserys to visit the Pearl of the Bay.

Subsequently, a guard came to report.

"Your Grace."

"Master Tobho invites you over, saying the sword is now forged."

Chapter 177: Dusk

"Ah?"

Hearing the guard's report, a young man in casual clothes sat in a chair, with his silver-gold hair flowing freely. He put down the letter in his hand.

For some unknown reason, Pentos had once again invited him to attend a banquet.

However, Viserys didn't quite believe the letter's claims about fostering the relationship between the two city-states and celebrating Pentos' traditional festivals, among other excuses.

There must be another reason—

The thought crossed Viserys' mind, and he squinted his eyes.

Viserys didn't ponder for long, just pausing briefly.

"Give this letter to Ramsay."

"Tell him to look into this matter and find out what Pentos is up to."

Then, the young king stood up and spoke.

"Let's go."

"See how the forging of this sword is going."

...

Not long after.

Tread, tread...

Footsteps echoed in the castle's corridor.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

The servants on both sides of the courtyard bowed respectfully upon seeing Viserys.

When Viserys arrived at the castle's smithy, smoke still filled the room.

However, the longsword forged from the heart of the Red Comet had just been freshly completed. Master Tobho Mott was in the process of cleaning up some dust.

"This is the sword, Your Majesty," said the soot-covered Master Tobho, respectfully.

His eyes couldn't hide his joy. He was very satisfied with his work and had a premonition that it would be a divine weapon that would make a name for itself in the long river of history.

As the craftsman who had personally forged it, Tobho Mott's name would become synonymous with the title of 'Master Craftsman.'

Although people called him 'Master' now, old Tobho knew that a 'Master' without a famous work couldn't be considered a true master.

Hence, Tobho's joy was even more intense than Viserys'.

As soon as Viserys entered the workshop, without needing old Tobho to say much, his pale purple eyes were drawn to the longsword displayed on a rack.

The dark red blade seemed to be wrapped in blood, with a simple black pattern at the center of the crossguard. The golden hilt curved towards the blade like the claw of a dragon grasping the edge.

The blackened, elongated hilt could be held with one hand or grasped with both. A golden accessory at the end was set with a red gemstone.

The overall style of the sword was the color of blood, reminiscent of the Red Comet that streaked across the sky at dusk, its bloody light even overshadowing the setting sun before falling into Viserys' gaze.

"This sword..."

Viserys was deeply captivated by it from the moment he laid eyes on it, as if staring into a blazing fire, with the rolling heat washing over him.

Unable to resist, the young king reached out and firmly gripped the hilt. The sensation of heat vanished in an instant, leaving only the clear texture of the hilt and the desire to use it to slay his enemies.

Clink—

Viserys took the sword from the rack, its blood-red light like the setting sun, illuminating the entire workshop and even surpassing the blazing furnace.

...

Flashes of images crossed his mind, and the smooth, water-like blade clearly reflected the handsome face of the young king.

"Give it a name..."

"This sword... shall be called 'Dusk'."

"It will end the rule of usurpers, and perhaps save many lives in the future."

Of course, it wasn't named Dusk simply to match another sword forged from a star's heart called Dawn; Viserys wasn't so mischievous.

When he first saw the sword, Viserys' mind was instantly filled with images of a blood-red setting sun.

The sun set in the west.

In the dim sky, a dazzling red comet streaked across, even overshadowing the light of the sun and the moon.

Then, as if a giant hand gripped a dagger, it descended from the sky, plunging violently into the ground.

"After the twilight of the apocalypse comes an even more prosperous vitality."

"Your Majesty has chosen a good name."

Old Tobho, with his piercing gaze, looked at Viserys holding the crimson sword, and seeing Viserys' satisfaction, he felt relieved and appropriately responded in agreement.

The red-robed woman nearby had fatigue in her eyes that she could not hide.

The sword was finally forged successfully.

The efforts she put in over the past three months were no less than those of Master Tobho.

The power of R'hllor within the priestess had been almost completely drained; for each forging, she personally ignited the flames with her divine power.

"This shall be the dusk of false gods."

Melisandre's voice was flat.

"The true king of light and fire will undoubtedly wield the Lightbringer to defeat the Other, saving the world."

The doctrine of the Red God has some similarities to a dualistic deity, meaning there are two true gods in the world, and the rest are false gods.

The true god R'hllor is known as the Lord of Light, the god of shadow and fire, as well as heat and life, symbolizing the sun.

R'hllor's eternal enemy, also recognized as a true god in the Red God's doctrine, is known as the 'Cold God' or the 'Other', the god of darkness, cold, and death.

Their endless struggle is the source of the world's long summers and harsh winters.

When the Lord of Light has the upper hand, it is a time of long summer; when cold engulfs the world, it signals that the Cold God has gained the lead once again.

But now, as the Cold God is about to awaken and winter approaches, Melisandre feels a closer connection with R'hllor and his power is also returning.

She doesn't know the reason.

Viserys, holding the crimson sword that shone brilliantly under the scorching heat of the forge, ignored the flattery of Old Tobho and Melisandre's indoctrination, then turned his head to his squire.

"Draw your sword."

The young king's guard hesitated slightly, but soon reacted and drew his longsword.

Clang...

Two swords were drawn in the narrow workshop, glinting with a cold, deadly light. Master Tobho and Melisandre wisely stepped aside.

They knew Viserys wanted to test the sword and feared being accidentally injured by the pair.

Though Melisandre was a witch, like Mirri Maz Duur, they could cast curses but were still mortal.

Cold steel could pierce their hearts, killing the witches.

In the center of the workshop, the two stood apart. Viserys held 'Dusk' in one hand, his silver-gold hair hanging down his back, his pale purple eyes gazing at the guard before him, and then he nodded slightly.

"Attack me."

"Forgive me , Your Majesty."

The guard gritted his teeth as he held his sword and then swung it towards Viserys.

Chapter 178: Gendry

The guard mustered his courage and swung his sword.

Whoosh.

Then the young king easily sidestepped to the left, avoiding the attack.

"Again!"

The guard gritted his teeth and swept his sword horizontally.

Viserys ducked his head, the sword barely missing him. He then suddenly lunged forward, his shoulder striking the guard's chest.

Thump—

The guard, still holding his sword, staggered back a few steps, gasping for air with one hand on his chest.

"Again."

Viserys had decided on a whim to stretch his muscles, but this poor soldier was bearing the brunt of it.

"Your Grace..."

There wasn't a single brother in the castle who hadn't practiced swordsmanship with the king; it was asking for trouble. The guard forced a wry smile, gripped his sword tightly, and charged again, aiming directly for Viserys' neck.

They never worried about hurting Viserys during their sparring sessions.

Because, for the past two years, even when two or three brothers attacked him together, they couldn't even touch the hem of his clothing.

But this time, Viserys didn't dodge. He grasped the hilt with both hands and used his crimson sword to clash with the guard's weapon.

Clang!

A loud metallic sound echoed through the silent workshop.

The guard's sword was cut in half, the tip falling to the ground.

The young king's weapon, Dusk, had severed the guard's sword, its blade pressing against the guard's neck with a gust of wind.

At that moment, the guard felt a chill run down his spine, and his hand holding the broken sword went weak, dropping it to the ground.

Clatter—

Huffing and puffing, the guard felt as if he had narrowly escaped death.

Viserys slowly withdrew his sword and gently patted the guard's shoulder in consolation.

He was very pleased with Dusk. The ability to cut through an opponent's weapon in a single clash was already an impressive feat.

Moreover, like a weapon forged from Valyrian steel, the sword contained magic. After cutting through another sword, its own blade remained undamaged, never chipping or breaking.

"This sword is good. I am very satisfied."

Viserys nodded slightly, then hung Dusk back on its rack, turning to address the two people who had retreated to a safe distance.

This sword had just been forged and still needed Master Tobho to create a scabbard for it.

"Your Grace, I'm glad you're satisfied."

"The scabbard will be ready soon."

Tobho also let out a sigh of relief.

This sword was definitely on par with, if not stronger than, a Valyrian steel sword, and he was confident in its quality.

As the creator, Tobho even looked forward to seeing Dusk pitted against a genuine Valyrian steel sword in the future.

Ice, the Stark family's sword?

Heartbreak of House Tarly?

Or perhaps the Longclaw of House Mormont, Lady Forlorn of House Corbray, or Red Rain of House Drumm.

As an experienced blacksmith, Tobho was naturally familiar with these famous Valyrian steel swords.

"Um."

Viserys nodded, picking up the broken sword tip from the floor, fiddling with it for a moment, and noticing the charred color at the fracture, he seemed lost in thought.

Then he looked up again.

When Viserys first arrived, he was drawn to the crimson sword, but it wasn't until now that he realized that the young apprentice, who was always inseparable from his master, was not present.

"Master Tobho, where is your apprentice?"

Viserys asked casually.

Now, only the bald-headed Master Tobho and Melisandre were in the workshop, and the black-haired apprentice had vanished.

After three months, Viserys had learned the boy's name.

Gendry.

When he first heard the name, Viserys didn't react, as Gendry was a common name in this world.

He also had a very ordinary identity – a blacksmith's apprentice.

However, it wasn't until the black-haired boy proudly showed off a bull's horn helmet and told Viserys that he had crafted it with his master's help that Viserys suddenly remembered the boy's true identity – he might be Robert's illegitimate son.

Gendry's biological mother was a waitress in a tavern, who died when he was just beginning to remember things.

Then, Gendry was entrusted to Tobho Mott's smithy by an anonymous knight who paid double the apprenticeship fee.

Viserys had confirmed these details from Tobho Mott himself.

Gendry was indeed brought by a knight two years ago. At first, Tobho didn't want to take on such a young child as an apprentice, but the other party offered too much.

At that time, he vaguely guessed that the boy might be the illegitimate child of a nobleman or official, and his father couldn't openly bring him home, so he secretly arranged a peaceful life for him.

However, Tobho Mott never expected Gendry to be the king's illegitimate son.

Viserys hadn't expected his investigation to uncover Robert's illegitimate child.

Use his identity to threaten Robert for a hefty ransom?

Viserys had never thought of it that way. Although many people now despised honor, he didn't want to tarnish his own reputation.

And perhaps Robert had long forgotten about Gendry and didn't care about the life or death of his illegitimate child.

So, Viserys didn't know how to deal with this boy of complicated background.

Gendry's personality was the opposite of his father's – he was a gentle boy.

But his physique inherited from his father, making him taller and stronger than boys his age, appeared to be a natural blacksmith.

Unable to think of a better solution, Viserys simply let Gendry be, allowing him to continue working at the forge, living and learning on his own.

"Gendry felt unwell and went back to rest."

His master had pushed someone into the furnace, burning them to ashes, leaving not even a bone behind...

Tobho Mott regarded Gendry as his own disciple, teaching him the methods of reforging Valyrian steel. However, he didn't expect his beloved apprentice to turn pale and vomit profusely upon witnessing the scene.

Tobho was displeased that Gendry was causing trouble while the king was visiting.

He then sent Gendry away and cleaned up the traces of his apprentice's vom it.

Gendry also lived within the Andalos Castle, but like many other servants, he resided in the dilapidated rooms on the outskirts of the main castle.

Even so, it was much better than the smithy he used to live in, where every breath was filled with the smell of charred coal.

At this moment.

The black-haired boy hid in his room, sitting on the bed with his hands around his knees, his mind still replaying the events that had just occurred and the words of the priestess.

Blood sacrifice...

Gendry's body shuddered slightly, and suddenly, he no longer wanted to be a blacksmith. .

Chapter 179: Ramsay Snow

"Lord Ramsay."

In a dark and damp room, a candle was lit.

A young man with long black hair and a gloomy face was sitting at a wooden table, reading a book.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door of his room.

Knock knock.

The young man in the room heard the knocking and slightly raised his head, squinting in the direction of the door. He then put down the book and rubbed his cheeks.

He glanced at the bronze mirror on the table and saw that his cold expression had softened. Satisfied, he spoke politely.

"Please come in."

Upon hearing Ramsay's voice,

Creak.

The shabby door was pushed open, and a soldier wearing leather armor entered, holding a letter in his hand.

"Lord Ramsay."

"His Majesty asked me to deliver this letter to you and has requested that you investigate this matter thoroughly."

"Oh?"

The young man called Ramsay took the letter and pulled out the paper from the already opened envelope. He looked over the contents and a gentle smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"It seems that His Majesty does not trust these people from Pentos."

"However, this is also a test His Majesty has set for me."

Ramsay raised his head, looked at the castle guard, and spoke confidently.

"Please tell the king that Ramsay Snow will certainly not disappoint his expectations."

...

In fact, ever since Viserys established a foothold on the continent of Essos, some nobles had been secretly contacting him.

This included nobles who were dissatisfied with the current situation, as well as families who were truly loyal to the Targaryens.

Among these families secretly in contact with the Targaryens, the largest one was undoubtedly House Martell from Dorne.

Over the years, although Andalos still bore the low-interest or even interest-free loans from the Iron Bank, the support from Braavos had essentially vanished.

Perhaps Braavos had its concerns, as they only wanted to use the Targaryens to disrupt the unity of the Seven Kingdoms and definitely did not want to cultivate a dominating ruler on the continent of Essos.

However, Viserys' power had expanded greatly, gaining the support of the Andals and the Rhoynar, even restoring the territory of the ancient Kingdom of Andalos. He could no longer be described merely as a city-state but could truly be called a kingdom.

This expansion had exceeded Braavos' expectations, and even divisions had arisen within Braavos' internal forces, with some people feeling worried.

If Viserys did not pursue the Iron Throne and restore his own kingdom as they had hoped, and instead chose to stay and build another great nation on the continent of Essos,

What should they do?

Therefore, although the contact between Braavos and Andalos had not decreased in recent years, financial support had long since stopped.

Dorne, on the other hand, differed from Braavos. Their support for Viserys had never waned.

Prince Doran Martell seemed to be truly loyal to the Targaryens and wanted to avenge his siblings.

However, Dorne's support for all these years had not come without conditions.

The new year was approaching, and Viserys would soon reach his sixteenth birthday, the age of adulthood. .

At that time, Viserys could no longer use his young age as an excuse to avoid marriage, not just with Oberyn, but even his mistress brought up the topic every now and then.

The lady involved in the political marriage with Viserys was none other than Arianne Martell, the eldest daughter of Prince Doran, who was a year younger than Viserys.

When Viserys would celebrate his coming of age next year, Arianne would be exactly fifteen.

Meanwhile, Viserys had never announced his heir. He had secretly told the commander of the Dragonstone fleet that he wanted to designate his sister Daenerys as his heir.

Dorne, on the other hand, openly and covertly hoped to forge closer ties with Rhaenys, seemingly intending to support her position within Viserys' camp.

In simple terms, Rhaenys had the backing of her maternal family or, in short, her 'maiden family.'

After all, Rhaenys' mother Elia Martell was the sister of Prince Doran.

Prince Doran had even mentioned in a previous letter his desire to have Rhaenys stay in Dorne for a while, as he wanted to see the child for himself.

However, Prince Doran's request was tactfully rejected by Viserys, who argued that Rhaenys was indeed too young to travel such a long distance.

Before Viserys hatched his dragons, he had already received secret contacts from a small portion of the Westerosi nobility. After the news of his dragons reached the Seven Kingdoms, such covert contacts came pouring in like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.

This was the significant change brought by the dragons. After all, the Targaryens had ruled this land for over 280 years, and the idea of dragons symbolizing the true king was deeply ingrained. It was not something that usurpers could change in just six or seven years of occupying the country.

Among them was a young man named Ramsay Snow.

He was not much older than Viserys, but for the sake of the ambition and discontent in his chest, he was willing to take risks and travel to the faraway Andalos in search of a turning point in his life.

He didn't want to remain a lowly bastard; he wanted to become a noble.

Ramsay's identity as a humble bastard was quite unique, and the forces he represented behind him were even more special.

Not long ago, Viserys had met with him privately, and based on his understanding of Ramsay, arranged a suitable job for him.

The underground intelligence agency of Andalos.

After the incident with Gilly Lannister, Viserys realized the importance of organizing internal affairs. Otherwise, his place would be like a public toilet, accessible to anyone.

As Viserys was worried about who to appoint as the first commander of this newly established, and not yet fully staffed 'Internal Affairs Department,'

Ramsay, with his ambition, suddenly appeared before Viserys.

Ramsay Snow was a common name for a lowly bastard in the North.

However, he had another alias in Viserys' camp.

'Little Flayer.'

He was the illegitimate son of Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort and the current head of House Bolton.

As a family that once ruled the North, the Bolton Lord was ambitious but did not dare to openly contact the Targaryens. Instead, he sent his bastard son Ramsay to Andalos to show his sincerity.

"The Bolton family still remembers the former king, and your loyal Dreadfort is ready to strike back at any time."

Ramsay Snow was prostrating on the ground, banging his head repeatedly, to the point that blood even began to flow from his forehead.

"I, Ramsay Snow, am willing to be your grace's loyal dog."

Chapter 180: Petyr Baelish

The sun shone brightly.

At the Sea Lord's Palace in Braavos, a slender, short young man stood in the garden, admiring the viBenjent green and peach blossoms before him.

Winter is coming.

Now that King Robert had been forced to abandon his plans to conquer Essos, the entire Seven Kingdoms, apart from Dorne, were busy preparing for the coming winter.

However, on the other side of the Narrow Sea in Braavos, the city still enjoyed a flourishing, spring-like atmosphere. The locals said that the recent drop in temperature was only temporary.

The young man gazed at the beautiful garden before him and couldn't help but think of his homeland and the girl with auburn hair he once knew.

He had even been willing to risk his life in a duel for her, but sadly, she had gone to the distant North, likely never to be seen again.

"Lord Petyr Baelish."

At that moment, a voice called from behind the young man.

A man wearing a simple gray robe approached, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, the Braavosi city official gestured for Petyr to follow him.

Petyr Baelish, the young man, nodded politely and revealed a standard smile. The two then proceeded deeper into the Sea Lord's Palace.

After navigating through several winding corridors, the two arrived at the bedroom of the Sea Lord of Braavos.

Knock, knock...

The city official tapped gently on the door, and they heard two coughs from within, followed by a muffled "Come in."

Creak.

The gray-robed city official pushed open the door and gestured for Petyr to enter. Petyr nodded and stepped inside.

Ferrego Antaryon, the current Sea Lord of Braavos, was in much worse health compared to when Viserys had met him.

Now, his body was thin and frail, and his hair had turned completely white, despite being in his early forties.

Had he not been the Sea Lord of Braavos, perhaps his illness would have claimed him by now. However, he clung to life with the aid of many precious and rare medicines.

Standing beside his bed was a tall, burly swordsman wearing heavy armor, his eyes sharp and focused as he scrutinized the small man from Westeros representing the Iron Throne.

The Chief Swordsman of Braavos had been replaced.

The former Chief Swordsman, Syrio Forel, had been exiled from the Sea Lord's Palace for some unknown transgression and was forbidden from ever returning to Braavos.

This new Chief Swordsman, however, did not possess the typical Braavosi style.

Instead, he resembled a traditional Westerosi knight, valuing strength and size over the agile and swift water dance.

His name was Quiro Valentin.

"Esteemed Ferrego Antaryon, on behalf of His Majesty King Robert Baratheon, I offer you my greetings."

The young man from King's Landing took in the current state of the Sea Lord of Braavos, and his gray-green eyes flickered with a hint of surprise.

Nevertheless, he composed himself and bowed slightly in respect.

He had never imagined that the man rumored to possess the greatest wealth in the world and command the most powerful "Invincible Fleet" would be lying in bed, gravely ill.

Petyr Baelish didn't understand the intricacies of the political system in Braavos, but he knew that once elected, the Sea Lord held the position for life.

Yet, despite his frailty, there was no one within Braavos who seemed to be seeking to replace him. Petyr couldn't comprehend it.

The Sea Lord lay in bed, looking at the emissary of the Iron Throne with weary eyes. Just as he was about to say something, he was interrupted by a series of violent coughs.

"Your Grace, would you like to have some more medicine?" asked his chief swordsman, Quiro, with concern. However, he was dismissed with a wave from the Sea Lord after a fit of coughing.

"No need, Quiro. It is not yet time for my medicine."

The Sea Lord's gaze returned to Petyr Baelish.

"Lord Baelish, is it?"

His voice was weak, but he managed to maintain a determined demeanor.

"If King Robert wishes to borrow money, he should speak with the Iron Bank's manager, not me."

He had heard that the Iron Bank had just rejected a loan request from the Master of Coin from King's Landing last month, citing the approaching winter and the Seven Kingdoms' lack of repayment capability. They had demanded collateral in the form of mines and land.

However, to his surprise, not much time had passed, and the Iron Throne had sent another envoy, this time seeking an audience with him.

"King Robert has sent me to Braavos not to seek a loan," explained Petyr Baelish.

"But to explore other areas of cooperation with Braavos, Your Grace."

As the matter at hand was broached, Petyr adopted a more serious tone and began to speak earnestly.

"I have just come from Pentos."

"Oh?" The Sea Lord showed no surprise at hearing this, as if he had already known that Petyr Baelish's journey had originated in Pentos.

"Cooperation."

"I wonder what kind of cooperation King Robert seeks with Braavos."

Lying in his bed, the Sea Lord's voice remained weak, yet somehow carried an inexplicable pressure that even caused the experienced negotiator 'Littlefinger' to feel his heartbeat quicken.

Persuading a formidable man like the Sea Lord of Braavos was much more challenging than dealing with the Magisters of Pentos.

Petyr Baelish had been recommended for this important mission by Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. The old Lord had long recognized the young man's exceptional abilities, having been introduced to him by his wife, Lysa.

Though Petyr hailed from an insignificant family, his father had forged a friendship with House Tully during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, allowing Petyr to be raised as a ward in Riverrun, where he became close friends with the Tully sisters.

As such, Jon Arryn had no reason to doubt him, especially after Petyr had increased the tax revenue in Gulltown tenfold during his tenure as its tax collector, further solidifying Arryn's faith in his capabilities.

So, for this crucial mission, Petyr Baelish was chosen to give it a try.

"Naturally, our cooperation would be aimed at addressing the greatest threat faced by both Braavos and the Iron Throne, Your Grace."

Petyr weighed his words carefully as he looked at the Sea Lord of Braavos, lying in his bed.

He constantly reminded himself that he was speaking to one of the most powerful individuals in the world.

"The Mad King's son."

"Viserys Targaryen."

"His presence has already far exceeded Braavos' expectations, hasn't it?"

"He has dragons; the mountain ranges won't be enough to stop their advance."

Chapter 181: Surveillance

However, after Petyr Baelish's daring words fell, the room was indeed silent.

Littlefinger believed that his words should have hit the Sea Lord's concerns. After all, it was common knowledge that Braavos had secretly supported the Targaryens, even though there was no direct evidence to prove it.

Just as Dorne had secretly supported the development of Andalos, providing a large amount of materials.

Otherwise, with all the ability Viserys had, he couldn't have built such a vast foundation out of nothing when he had nothing at first. Even the craftsmen who built the castles were borrowed from Braavos and Dorne.

Braavos had a clear reason for doing this; the size of the Seven Kingdoms after unification was indeed too large.

The Targaryens once had deep-rooted rule, making it difficult for them to intervene. However, now Westeros has fallen into a changing situation, the Targaryen dynasty was overthrown and replaced by the Baratheon dynasty.

So Braavos naturally hoped to take advantage of this opportunity to extend their reach into Westeros.

At present, countless nobles in the Seven Kingdoms have faced bankruptcy and only barely survived due to secret loans from the Iron Bank.

Today they receive favors, and in the future, they must repay double.

Viserys was just a pawn for Braavos to disturb Westeros.

But now this pawn is gradually growing towards the chess player's direction, which will inevitably touch Braavos' bottom line.

This was what Petyr thought he had grasped.

The Sea Lord of Braavos, lying on his sickbed, stared at Petyr Baelish with a pair of dull eyes, devoid of any spirit.

He was silent for a long while, then took two deep breaths.

"Lord Baelish, why would Andalos be the greatest threat to Braavos right now?" Ferrego's tone was plain.

The young man from King's Landing, however, was slightly more spirited.

His greatest fear was that the Sea Lord of Braavos would deny it outright, unwilling to discuss the matter with him, or even drive him away.

In that case, Littlefinger, no matter how capable, would not be able to complete the task entrusted to him by King Robert.

As long as the Sea Lord was willing to continue the conversation on this topic, Petyr Baelish was confident he could persuade Braavos to turn against the Targaryens, forming the encirclement that Tywin Lannister had planned, and trapping the remnants of the Targaryen family in this land.

Andalos' growth had already reached its limit; with Braavos to the north and Pentos to the south, and the mountainous Norvos to the west, Andalos needed to break through to continue its development.

If the Iron Throne followed its original plan and launched an expedition like the War of the Ninepenny Kings to eliminate the Targaryen remnants, there would be no further problems.

But winter came at the wrong time.

Tywin and Robert had a long talk. Tywin wasn't afraid of the Targaryen dragons, as they wouldn't grow too large in just two or three years.

All they needed was to build more scorpions during this time, which would be enough to threaten the dragons in the sky.

Although it couldn't guarantee a hundred percent success in killing the dragons like the Dornish did with Meraxes in the past, it would at least prevent the dragons from attacking without restraint.

Although it couldn't guarantee a hundred percent success in killing the dragons like the Dornish did with Meraxes in the past, it would at least prevent the dragons from attacking without restraint.

As for the ground war, the vast Seven Kingdoms, even when fighting across the sea, would far surpass a small Andalos in terms of troops and armaments. The endless army would submerge this city-state.

This is the strength of a great nation; after all, the main force in war is still the army and not dragons.

Therefore, the Lord of Casterly Rock was most worried that during the difficult winter in the Seven Kingdoms, Andalos would once again take the opportunity to expand, even breaking through the encirclement formed by the trading city-states.

If the Targaryens truly became the hegemon on the continent of Essos, the Seven Kingdoms would no longer have the strength to eliminate them on their own.

Lord Tywin's strategy could be seen as one of alliance and balance. Andalos' rapid development would inevitably pose a threat to the surrounding free trade city-states.

As long as this apprehension is exploited properly, even if they cannot organize a united army to encircle Andalos, at least they can unite to suppress Andalos' development.

"Dragons!"

Littlefinger spread his hands and emphasized the word once again.

"Lord of the Sea, you must understand what kind of creatures dragons are."

"To my rough knowledge, dragons have no growth limit in their lifetime."

"Balerion."

"Queen Visenya, sister of Aegon the Conqueror, had a dragon that lived for 181 years when it died. It was the oldest and largest dragon in all of Westeros, almost comparable to Balerion the Black Dread. Its roar could make the Eyrie tremble."

"And so is human ambition."

Petyr's tone was heavy, as if he was truly worried about the future of Braavos.

A dragon with unlimited growth potential meant that within the next hundred years, the power of the Targaryens would expand infinitely with the growth of the dragons.

If the Targaryens' three dragons all grew to the size of their ancestors, it is likely that at that time, Viserys' descendants would swallow everything on the continent of Essos, and Braavos would not be spared.

"Lions do not walk with deer."

The smallest of the lords of the Fingers made a warning, seemingly hinting at something.

Lying weakly in bed, the Braavosi Sea Lord revealed a mysterious smile when he heard this sentence, and then calmly spoke.

"Your meaning, is Braavos a deer or a lion?"

However, before Baelish could explain, the Sea Lord shook his head slightly.

"Braavos is neither a deer nor a lion, but a titan."

"Titans do not fear dragons."

Afterward, Ferrego coughed violently a few times and directly closed the door to send off the guests.

"I understand your meaning, Lord Baelish."

"Please convey to King Robert that Braavos has no intention of intervening in the Iron Throne's struggle for power, whether it's Baratheon, Targaryen, true king, or pretender."

The Sea Lord of Braavos suddenly wanted to send him away, and Petyr was caught off guard, his handsome face filled with astonishment.

But since the Sea Lord had already spoken, he had no choice but to courteously bow slightly and leave the Sea Lord's bedroom.

Soon, the Sea Lord's bedroom fell into silence.

Ferrego Antaryon lay quietly in bed, his eyes half-closed, and no one knew what he was thinking. He then opened his eyes and spoke.

"Quiro, I need the help of the House of Black and White."

"Sea Lord?"

His chief swordsman was somewhat surprised, not expecting the Sea Lord to want to employ the power of the Faceless Men.

This power was not easily employed, and the Sea Lord rarely used it in normal times.

"I need to find out exactly what that child Viserys has done."

"Not just what's on the surface."

The Sea Lord's words revealed no attempt to hide that Braavos had always been monitoring Viserys.

"Understood."

Chapter 182: Future Plans

Viserys' sudden appointment of a man named Ramsay Snow to a position within the Andalos government did not cause much of a stir.

After all, it was an organization with only a few members, although it was called the 'Internal Affairs Department,' there were still too few people in practice.

Viserys did not explain much about it.

Perhaps Viserys knew more about 'Little Flayer' Ramsay Snow than his biological father, the Dreadfort's Lord Roose Bolton.

He was a cunning and cold-blooded man, not necessarily brilliant, but still possessed some planning and manipulation skills, often resorting to unconventional tactics to achieve his goals. However, he preferred and even stubbornly indulged in sadistic behavior, making him a complete psychopath.

And the most important thing, which Viserys valued, was his ambition.

As long as Viserys made full use of this man's ambition, he could use him to do more things before his value was exhausted.

In short, it was Ramsay's self-assessment.

"A good dog."

He hoped Viserys would take him in, even if it meant being a dog crawling on the ground.

In Ramsay's view, this was a rare opportunity. Originally, within the Dreadfort, he could only live in a filthy and foul-smelling environment with other lowborn men.

If it weren't for this opportunity, when his father Roose Bolton needed a representative to go to Andalos and hedge his bets, Ramsay might not have had a chance to turn his life around.

As for Lord Bolton of the Dreadfort, he had his own legitimate heir, so sending an insignificant bastard to the Targaryens meant little.

If King Robert won, he would sacrifice this bastard son, and if the Targaryens won, Roose could still reap rewards due to his early bets.

As for Ramsay himself?

Who cared?

Perhaps Ramsay deeply understood this truth, so he desperately prostrateed, hoping to seize this opportunity and gain the favor of the young dragonlord.

If he could accompany the Targaryens in their future attack on King's Landing, at the very least, he could obtain the surname 'Bolton,' or even possibly take another surname and establish a new family.

Would such a vicious and dangerous mad dog bite back in the future?

The sound of a pen sliding gently on paper echoed in the room.

Viserys shook his head slightly, realizing that different perspectives lead to different ways of addressing problems.

As a king, he needed loyal commanders like the Dragonstone Fleet Commander and Bessie, as well as those who surrendered like Evan Pass of House Lannister.

Ramsay, a fierce and dangerous mad dog, also had a reason to exist, as sometimes he could play an extraordinary role.

He could do some things the king did not want to do himself.

If it led to serious consequences, Viserys could place all the blame on Ramsay, then add charges of bewitching the king and deceiving others, and cut him down in the name of justice.

And so, everything for "Little Flayer" depended on himself, as a single word from Viserys could end his wretched life and strip him of all he possessed.

He believed that Ramsay was well aware of this.

His only chance was to diligently complete every task given to him by Viserys, elevating his status in Viserys' heart and becoming truly useful. Only then would Viserys hesitate to kill him in the future.

Shh...

Only the sound of Viserys writing could be heard in the quiet room.

Under the gentle candlelight, half of the young boy's face was immersed in shadow. A pair of pale violet eyes sparkled as he occasionally revealed a thoughtful expression, then continued writing.

Time passed.

The night was deep and silent.

A light rain began to fall outside the window, tapping softly against the glass. Finally, Viserys put down his pen and stretched lazily.

"Mission accomplished."

Viserys had outlined a plan for the future of his kingdom, considering the rumors of winter's arrival spreading throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Naturally, he couldn't keep the news from his spies in King's Landing.

With the defeat of his fleet at Dragonstone, Viserys had suffered the greatest loss of his life thus far.

At that time, King Robert was planning a grand invasion of Andalos.

Although Viserys maintained a nonchalant demeanor, as if he were ready to face the challenge, deep down, he was anxious.

This wasn't like his encounter with Khal Drogo's khalasar, an unexpected battle where neither side had time to prepare.

Drogo had been arrogant, intending to consume Viserys in one fell swoop, but Viserys had played the fool, drawing him into a siege, and ultimately defeating him.

If Robert truly led the knights of the Seven Kingdoms across the sea to attack Andalos, Viserys could already imagine the endless fleet of ships and shining knights charging across the Andalosian plains.

Though he never spoke of it, Viserys had even considered abandoning the city and retreating to the Norvosi mountains to wage guerrilla warfare.

If the armies of the Seven Kingdoms wanted to pursue him, then let them chase him into the mountains. At that point, Viserys had confidence in wearing them down.

But now, the opportunity was rare.

With no war to fight, it was time to seize the moment and develop his own power, resolving internal conflicts.

Viserys worked late into the night on plans for growth and construction, aiming to expand his influence while Westeros endured a harsh winter.

Once, Andalos had been merely a fledgling kingdom, centered around the city of Andalos.

But now, Viserys intended to transform this fledgling kingdom into a true one, changing its military structure, establishing several legions, building a defensive system along the borders, supporting local nobles in constructing castles and towns, and more...

Naturally, a true kingdom required a capital.

Besides Andalos, Viserys had his eye on another location.

That place was...

Viserys' gaze fell upon a point on the map.

Pentos.

Outside the window, the night rain drizzled on. A breeze slipped through the cracks of the window, causing the candle to flicker. Viserys had just written down the pros and cons of Andalos and Pentos.

Andalos' strength lay in the fact that it was a city built by Viserys himself, and his prestige there was unmatched.

As for Pentos, its advantages were clear: a gem on the bay, its strategic location, economic power, population, and historical depth all far surpassed Andalos.

"Pentos..."

Viserys looked at the map spread out on the table.

At some point, unbeknownst to him, Viserys had quietly set his sights on Pentos, their neighboring city.

Chapter 183: Intelligence

The next morning dawned.

Because Viserys had stayed up late into the night, he woke up a little later than usual in the morning.

Nevertheless, he crawled out of bed as soon as the sun began to rise and got dressed.

A maid helped the young king comb his long hair as he sat at his desk, where his breakfast was also laid out.

A few biscuits and half a loaf of bread, a small dish of cream to dip the biscuits in, and a few slices of fried bacon to wrap in the bread.

Viserys yawned while the beautiful handmaid helped him tidy his hair, and he also reached out to pick up a biscuit, dabbed it in the cream dish, and then put it in his mouth.

Crunch—

Crisp.

"So sleepy."

The silver-haired youth complained listlessly. In front of others, he was the epitome of resilience and genius, a young prodigy who saved the day. However, when alone, Viserys would instantly collapse and start sighing.

Although the history of House Targaryen had produced a 'Wise King' Daeron II Targaryen, Viserys' habit of staying up all night and waking up promptly in the morning should also earn him the title of a 'Wise Monarch.'

But who could blame Viserys for having good stamina? Four or five hours of sleep a day was enough for him.

As Viserys enjoyed his breakfast and the maid's soft hands massaged his scalp, his pale purple eyes fell on the silver-plated copper mirror in front of him, crafted by artisans from Myr.

Then, a black fog gradually appeared.

With his growing age, Viserys' own attributes were also naturally increasing significantly. The natural growth of his body didn't seem to conflict with the existence of the black fog.

The black fog spread.

In Viserys' vision, the entire room was enveloped and shrouded by the black fog. The more black fog he absorbed, the more it expanded.

Strength (Solar): 18

Constitution (Earth): 18

Agility (Water): 17

Spirit (Lunar): 24

As Viserys grew older, his constitution began to increase rapidly, while the improvement of his mental power slowed down. After all this time and even a few battles, his attributes had only increased by two points.

Viserys knew that awakening an extraordinary ability would come with each attribute reaching 20.

What would the next ability be?

Just as Viserys was casually observing his own condition, a guard came to report.

"Your Majesty."

"Ramsay requests an audience."

Viserys, who was sitting in his chair, froze for a moment, a biscuit still hanging from his mouth.

"So early?"

He heard from his informant close to Ramsay that Ramsay had returned to Andalos in the early hours of the morning and had barely slept before coming to find him.

True to his ruthless nature, Ramsay was even harsh on himself.

The maid combing Viserys' hair stopped her movements and bowed politely.

"Your Majesty, I shall take my leave."

Viserys nodded, and the maid stepped back discreetly.

Because everyone in the castle knew that Viserys generally did not like eavesdroppers while he was dealing with official matters.

It hadn't been too long.

Hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, followed by the appearance of a young man outside Viserys' bedroom.

"Your Majesty."

Upon seeing Viserys, Ramsay knelt once again, like a dog wagging its tail.

Others in the castle, including the servants, would not pay such respects to Viserys, but only Ramsay insisted on doing so. Viserys did not stop him; if he enjoyed it, he could do as he pleased.

"Have you found out?"

"Ramsay."

Viserys sat in his chair without budging an inch, looking at the bastard of Dreadfort's lord kneeling on the ground, and spoke calmly.

Ramsay appeared rather exhausted, his hair a mess and his eyes bloodshot from working two days straight without sleep.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I have uncovered Petyr Baelish's intentions."

Ramsay prostrateed respectfully, then stood and handed Viserys a well-organized report from his bosom.

Ramsay had spent over a month with the five soldiers Viserys had granted him, daring to infiltrate the city of Pentos. In the end, he had obtained the information he sought through unknown means.

A few days prior, Viserys had heard a report from his intelligence department about the brutal murder of one of Pentos' Magisters, Odro, in his mistress's home.

It was a manor outside of Pentos, bought by Odro for his mistress.

When Odro and his mistress were found, both had been drowned in a well, their corpses so gruesome that people could barely look at them.

It was suspected that they had been attacked by enemies.

After all, Odro had climbed from being a wealthy merchant to the Magister of Pentos, staining his hands with countless blood. The number of other merchants he had persecuted to death was incalculable.

Those investigating believed that only someone who deeply hated Odro would be so cruel to him, and yet they took nothing from the manor.

Viserys held the report in his hand, his finger gently caressing a smear of blood on the edge of the paper.

"Thank you for your hard work."

He looked deeply at Ramsay before continuing to read.

"Petyr Baelish?"

Soon after, Viserys saw a familiar name and raised an eyebrow.

"So it's him."

The image of a short, dark-haired man with a hint of gray appeared in his mind.

As a master of intrigue who stirred the winds behind the scenes, Petyr had left a vivid mark on history.

Viserys had always believed that anyone capable of doing so was no ordinary person.

Yet, it was only now that the low-profile 'Littlefinger' had appeared in Viserys' sight.

"Where did he go next?"

Viserys asked.

The young man, with a dark expression and hands hanging at his side, hesitated.

He didn't know why Viserys was so concerned about this man's whereabouts, especially since he had never heard of this minor noble from the Fingers during his time in Westeros.

Ramsay recalled that he had once tracked Petyr, intending to capture and interrogate him.

However, when he arrived at the place where Petyr had been staying, he learned that the man had already left Pentos by ship.

Ramsay told Viserys everything he knew without any concealment.

Chapter 184: Intent

"Really?"

Viserys pondered for a few seconds before raising his head again.

"Find an opportunity to approach this man, through his connection with Lysa…"

However, Viserys hesitated, then sighed after a moment of thought.

"Never mind, it's not the right time."

"We should keep a close eye on this man. There will be a use for him in the future."

Littlefinger would play a crucial role in the future, but for now, he lacked the necessary influence.

Viserys could secretly support him, further stirring the waters of Westeros.

However, Petyr Baelish wasn't yet capable of such influence. He still needed to cling to Jon Arryn like a maggot, drawing strength from the old Lord.

"Understood."

Ramsay didn't know why Petyr Baelish had caught Viserys's attention, but he would treat his master's words as gospel and nodded hurriedly.

Viserys didn't explain his reasons but continued reading.

Petyr was sent to Pentos by the Iron Throne as an envoy, passionately discussing the threat of the Targaryens.

Now, with the Dragon King at hand, there was no need for Petyr to convince the Pentoshi magisters of the impending danger.

After all, Pentos was the weakest of the nine Free Cities.

Due to the terms of their defeat against Braavos, Pentos retained its sovereignty but was restricted to no more than twenty warships, forbidden from employing mercenaries, signing contracts with sellsword companies, or maintaining any force beyond the city guard.

Despite having massive walls, Pentos was considered the most vulnerable of the Free Cities.

What's more, Pentos was leaderless and politically chaotic. The Prince of Pentos was a puppet, and the wealthy magisters who truly held power were self-serving, opportunistic, and cowardly.

Lacking a strong leader or united collective will, Pentos remained weak, needing to maintain friendly relations with the other Free Cities and the Dothraki horselords.

Over the years, they had built relationships with powerful khals, sending them gifts and gold to ensure their khalasars remained east of the Rhoyne River, protecting Pentos's safety.

Suddenly, a powerful force had risen alongside Pentos: the exiled House Targaryen, who fled from Westeros to Essos.

At first, Pentos paid little attention to their new neighbor, but it didn't take long for the Targaryens to rise rapidly.

Pentos then took notice, resorting to their old tactics of inviting Viserys as a guest and offering gifts to forge an alliance.

Viserys later defeated a Dothraki horselord in a face-off at Ghozai, and rumors spread that his sister, Daenerys, had hatched dragons.

Everything changed once again.

The Targaryens were not Dothraki; they had an interest in the stone houses.

And unlike the systems of the trading city-states, an absolute monarchy inherently had a strong tendency to expand. This was a viewpoint put forth by a scholar from the Citadel, based on the chaotic history of the Seven Kingdoms prior to unification, and this work had made its way across the ocean to their shores.

As a result, the people of Pentos began to grow increasingly apprehensive and concerned about this neighboring power.

Andaros was situated in a fertile region, with its back to the sea and surrounded by mountains, encircled by three Free Cities: Braavos to the north, Norvos to the east, and Pentos to the west.

Anyone knew that if Viserys was content with the status quo, all would be well, but if he harbored ambitions to expand further, he would have to choose a direction to break through, or else be trapped in the middle.

And if the Targaryens truly wished to expand in a certain direction...

Would they choose Braavos, blocked by the mountain range and boasting the strongest position among the Free Cities?

Or would they choose Norvos, with its complex terrain amidst the mountains, its fanatical religious faith, and its fearless bearded warriors who were unafraid of death?

The answer was one that anyone could easily choose.

It was precisely for these reasons that the people of Pentos were deeply worried.

The Iron Throne's envoy arrived just in time, and so the Magisters of Pentos gathered once more to meet with this messenger.

"Did the Pentoshi Magisters meet with Petyr?"

Viserys's pale violet eyes sparkled with brilliance, for he knew this was not a positive sign.

"Yes, Your Grace," replied Ramsay with the utmost respect.

"Petyr urged the Pentoshi Magisters to oppose you and form an alliance with the Iron Throne."

"During the discussions, a Magister named Illyrio Mopatis spoke out against the proposal."

"He said... if Pentos were to make an enemy of the Targaryens, they might face dragonfire and an assault from Andaros."

"As for the surrounding trading city-states, Braavos and Pentos are enemies. The humiliating treaty that Pentos signed was forced upon them by the Braavosi, while Norvos has a friendly and harmonious relationship with Andaros. Cohor's assistance would be too far off to be of any use, and Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys have longstanding grievances and are opposed to each other. If one side rashly sends troops to aid another, they might lose the initiative in disputed territory."

"Moreover, waging war costs money."

"Each of the noble families and Magisters in Pentos, as well as the forty noble families of Pentoshi blood, would have to contribute a significant sum to hire the trading city-states to fight this war."

"As for the Dothraki... they are all barbarians, and they are cunning as well. They may be willing to take money to fight a war and suffer casualties, but they might not necessarily want to get involved in this conflict."

"Hiring a mercenary company would tear up the truce with Braavos, and it's likely to cause trouble in the future. And how much would it cost to hire a mercenary company like the Golden Company, which numbers over ten thousand men? How much could be spent on a single gift?"

"As for support from the Iron Throne, don't even think about it. Winter is coming there, and they can barely take care of themselves."

As Viserys listened to Ramsay's account, he nodded slightly, holding the letter of intelligence in his hands. His gaze showed a hint of scrutiny. After a pause, he continued to ask in a calm voice, "What was the outcome?"

He needed to know the result of this matter.

"The outcome was that the Magisters of Pentos asked many questions about the Iron Throne's plans but ultimately did not agree to Petyr Baelish's persuasion. They only said they would consider it further..."

This was what Ramsay had extracted from the mouth of that unfortunate Pentoshi Magister.

Their attitude was cautious, inviting Viserys to visit Pentos was only to probe his true intentions.

Perhaps they would send another lavish gift, implementing a policy of appeasement to strengthen the ties between Pentos and the Targaryens.

"But..."

"Besides this, they also have another plan."

Chapter 185: The Saint

That afternoon.

Viserys appeared in the castle's conference hall, but there was always one person missing.

The young king wore his usual attire, with a golden crown on his head, sitting in the main position, while the important rulers of Andalos sat on both sides of the long conference table.

Viserys then presented the plan he had prepared the night before, regarding the division of the military after the establishment of the kingdom, the construction of new towns, and the reduction of a certain number of rural areas to create towns with a higher population density.

Due to the unique military system of Andalos, the nobles did have private soldiers to defend their castles, but the number was not too large, and the entire kingdom's standing army was held by the king or the commanders he designated.

This was very different from the noble system of Westeros, where the nobles only managed the land and not the stationed army. The authority of the garrison commanders was on par with the local nobles, only that their power was not hereditary.

In theory, the local nobles' governance was slightly higher than the garrison commanders' power. However, in practice, these military commanders were not much less powerful than the local nobles.

Viserys naturally knew that such a system still had many flaws, easily breeding warlords and collusion between local nobles and commanders, among other issues.

However, this was also an unavoidable method based on the current situation. At least compared to King Robert on the Iron Throne, Viserys had more power centralized in his hands.

Dragons were the best deterrent for Viserys to break the tradition and implement new systems. As long as he had dragons, Viserys could tear apart the deeply rooted systems as much as possible and increase centralization.

In a place as big as Andalos, even if there were problems on the border, with rebellious armies or collusion with local nobles, Viserys could ride a dragon the next afternoon, rallying soldiers from surrounding towns and dropping them onto the castle's top. Being 'ahead of the curve' in this era was quite impressive.

"It seems I should retire."

Sir Joffrey's hair was graying, wearing the medal of the Hand of the King, sitting in the first position to Viserys' left, and shaking his head slightly.

"These are the things I should have done for Your Majesty, but..."

But now, the old knight had nothing left to teach him. A wrinkled old face was full of bitter smiles.

Viserys had followed this old commander of the Dragonstone fleet for many years. With Sir Joffrey's deliberate guidance, Viserys learned to lead soldiers in battle and had acquired most of his skills.

In politics, the old knight was just a warrior who knew nothing about governing a country or developing an economy and often even held them back.

He had initially wanted to meddle in the development of Andalos, fearing that Viserys would take the wrong path. But after a lot of fumbling, he realized he couldn't help much and was only causing trouble.

The old man, who had already handed over his military power and returned to his fields, felt powerless once again in the political arena, listening to Viserys' explanation of the future development direction as if it were a sacred text, with a blank expression.

After an unknown amount of time had passed.

"Bessie."

Viserys' gaze turned to the person sitting at the end of the long conference table. Many people in the room looked over.

His entire body was shrouded in thick clothing, and he wore a metal mask on his face. Except for the eyes beneath the mask, not an inch of skin was exposed. His back was straight as if he were an ascetic monk in a sanctuary.

Bessie heard Viserys' voice, tilted his head slightly, and looked at the king he had sworn allegiance to with bright eyes beneath her mask.

"Your Majesty."

His voice was low and hoarse.

It took more than half a year for Bessie, a knight who had risen from a farming family, to overcome his illness and stand up again with determination. Apart from his charred body, which he was unwilling to show to others, he was no different from an ordinary person.

Of course, there was one more thing.

That meant he could no longer wield a sword as Gillyan had diagnosed, and he could not fight like a knight for the rest of his life.

However, Bessie pleaded with Viserys to give him a chance, as he did not want to live a muddled life. Eventually, Viserys entrusted him with command of part of the army.

Subsequently, Bessie led these soldiers to eradicate the Brotherhood and bandits within their territory, who were as persistent as weeds. They achieved victory after victory.

In addition to his strict military discipline and orderly leadership style, he was as disciplined as a monk, with no transgressions wherever he went.

Eventually, he made a resounding name for himself.

'Saint' Bessie.

The reason, of course, was his devotion to the Faith of the Seven. The seven-pointed star symbol on his mask constantly reminded him of his identity as a warrior's son.

"The First Legion is entrusted to you."

The young king, wearing a golden crown, handed Bessie a shiny gold sword-and-shield-shaped medal.

This medal represented the rank of the First Legion commander.

Bessie had been Viserys' confidant since their humble beginnings, always learning from him.

The number of people Viserys could trust was not many, but this loyal knight was definitely one of them.

His loyalty to Viserys was as unwavering as his faith in the Seven, making him a tenacious and principled individual.

Moreover, Bessie's military achievements during this period were evident to all. He governed the army through religion, ensuring the troops' faith was strong and they fought bravely, with no misconduct wherever they went.

This Andal legion, numbered "One," consisted of four thousand elite Andal warriors who had accompanied Viserys in his early battles.

These Andal warriors were valiant and skilled in battle. It was only fitting that they be led by Bessie, the "warrior's son."

Viserys handed the first legion commander medal to this iron-faced knight. The pure gold sword gleamed under the lamplight, and sporadic applause echoed throughout the council chamber.

The Andal nobles present clapped to congratulate this common-born commander.

"Congratulations."

Always frivolous and lazy, Oberyn's face turned serious this time as he clapped his hands to congratulate Bessie.

Oberyn had thought he would become the first legion commander of Andalos, but he didn't expect that this younger, low-profile, and unassuming man would surpass him.

"I am undeserving of such an honor."

There was no emotion in the eyes of the knight wearing the metal mask.

Nevertheless, he stood up, albeit awkwardly due to his transformed body, and bowed slightly.

"Thank you for your trust, Your Grace."

Chapter 186: The Princess of Dorne

After appointing the first legion commander, it was Oberyn Martell's turn. The Prince of Dorne had set aside his status to stay in Andalos and made great military achievements, which naturally qualified him to become a legion commander. Having resigned from his position as the commander of the City Watch, Oberyn knew he would definitely be one of the legion commanders.

The army Viserys assigned to him was the Rhoynish forces, later conquered. Oberyn himself also had Rhoynish blood, as his ancestors came from the ancient Rhoynish city-states that were crushed by the Valyrian Freehold.

The legendary Rhoynish heroine Nymeria had married Mors Martell and helped her husband conquer all of Dorne. It was therefore most fitting for Oberyn to command these submissive Rhoynish forces, with loyal Rhoynish general Evan Pass serving as deputy legion commander, assisting Oberyn in managing the entire Second Legion.

"Prince Oberyn, the Second Legion is now entrusted to you," said Viserys, handing over a golden sword-and-shield medal to Oberyn.

"Second Legion?" Oberyn asked, dissatisfied with the name. The curly-haired Prince of Dorne, legs crossed and stroking his soft chin beard, shook his head helplessly. Oberyn had a strong appreciation for the arts and found it difficult to accept such a simple numeric designation.

"Second Legion is just the ordinal number 'two,'" Viserys replied, glancing at Oberyn, not knowing what he was thinking. "The number won't change, but if you want to call it something else in the future... feel free."

"Just don't call it the 'Sweetheart Brigade' or the 'Martell Legion'," Viserys joked. Oberyn grinned broadly, showing a hearty smile.

"No problem," Oberyn said. "Don't worry, I won't come up with such terrible names."

Oberyn accepted the golden sword-and-shield medal from Viserys and wore it on his chest. This novel experience filled Oberyn with enthusiasm. Although Dorne's customs differed slightly from the rest of Westeros, they had never experienced such a divergent system.

Nobles were responsible for governing their territories but could not control their territory's military. Nobles could become military commanders, but this depended on merit, not rank, and they were not allowed to hold positions in their own territories. They also had to undergo regular performance evaluations and rotations.

Moreover, the revenue of a territory was closely related to the nobles' interests. If they neglected governance for too long, the king, with his supreme authority, had the right to take back some of their land as a warning, demote them to commoners, or even execute them at the gallows in the most severe cases.

Although the final power of the state was highly centralized in the king's hands and the nobles' autonomy was greatly suppressed, Oberyn saw that this system benefited the country's development more than it harmed it. This was especially true when the state was still in its nascent stage, as a single voice could better unite everyone and reduce internal strife.

As for whether this system would be applied to Westeros in the future, Viserys had promised Prince Doran that Dorne would continue to maintain its current special status. In fact, since Dorne's submission to the Targaryen dynasty and later the Baratheon dynasty, it had always retained a special status.

Throughout history, the Targaryens and Dorne have joined in marriage multiple times to solidify their rule over this crucial border region.

Thus, it wasn't unusual for Viserys to make such a promise to Prince Doran, but Doran's insistence on arranging a marriage between his daughter and Viserys might not be solely to strengthen their alliance...

Viserys suddenly recalled something that had happened about half a month ago.

Prince Doran sent a letter, stating that in order to facilitate the alliance's marriage pact, his daughter Arianne Martell had boarded a ship from Sunspear to Andalos.

Accompanying her were fifty elite Dornish guards for protection, as well as over a dozen artisans and craftsmen to support Andalos.

"Oberyn, how long until the Princess of Dorne arrives?" Viserys asked.

Upon hearing Viserys' question, Oberyn raised an eyebrow and thought for a moment. "About... two more months, I'd say."

Sunspear was far from Andalos, and even traveling by sea took a considerable amount of time.

"Your Grace, what's the matter?"

"Feeling a bit nervous?"

A slightly dark-skinned middle-aged man then sat in a chair, teasing Viserys with a mocking tone, recalling their first meeting.

Viserys' face darkened, and he replied irritably, "No!"

Although Viserys could be serious at times, he was generally easygoing and never put on any airs of royalty.

As Viserys often said, "A king to be respected doesn't rely on his noble blood."

In truth, no one in the room had blood as noble as his.

Ruling a kingdom should depend on the support of the people and the nobility. If one has only "noble blood" but lacks the ability to rule...

Such a person would end up like his father, the Mad King Aerys II, or like the current occupant of the Iron Throne, King Robert.

No matter how noble one's blood, they are destined to lose their throne, or even their life.

"Haha..."

With that little episode, the tense atmosphere in the council chamber relaxed considerably, and the old men present all revealed knowing smiles.

Upon closer examination, their young king was still only fifteen years old, and he would not truly come of age until his sixteenth nameday celebration.

Sometimes, Viserys' maturity and steadiness made them forget that he was just a boy.

Just a...

Fledgling.

"Your Grace, indeed, it's about time for you to become betrothed."

The elderly knight sitting to the king's left wore a pleased smile, feeling as if he were watching his own child grow up. Although he had never married, a sense of accomplishment welled up within him.

"Arianne Martell, the eldest daughter of Prince Doran, is a fitting match for Your Grace."

A Targaryen-Martell union was, after all, a family tradition. Moreover, as the eldest daughter of Prince Doran, there could be no objection.

"Yes, indeed."

The old knight was the first to speak up, and the council chamber filled with murmurs of agreement.

Only Barry Joys, the newly appointed commander of the First Legion, sitting in the corner, did not join in. He sat upright and serious, remaining loyal only to the king's orders and not to anyone else's opinion.

...

Chapter 187: Wilderness Camp

Viserys watched the council members in the room jeer, feeling somewhat helpless as he shook his head.

He had initially resisted the idea of a marriage alliance with Princess Martell due to some preconceived notions. However, after giving it some thought, he realized that Arianne was still just a little girl, not yet the restless woman who later schemed to support Myrcella and stir up turmoil throughout Dorne.

Moreover, this political alliance was crucial for House Targaryen.

Viserys had enjoyed many favors from Dorne over the years, and he needed a powerful ally like them for support. If the two sides could form a marriage alliance, it would make their bond even stronger.

In the future, it would play a crucial role in both the north and south pincer movement, as well as landing in Dorne.

What should he do?

Viserys was somewhat troubled.

However, after experiencing countless harsh realities over the years, he had become much more pragmatic compared to his earlier idealism.

He decided to meet this Dornish princess first.

With that thought, Viserys shook his head slightly, placed his hands on the table, and scanned the faces of everyone present with his pale violet eyes. Then, he pursed his lips and spoke.

"Let's discuss this matter after Princess Arianne arrives."

"For now, let's continue with the matter at hand - our plans for the two new castles, a camp, and a town."

The castles and camps Viserys planned were to be built on land reserved for House Targaryen, which would also be their assets in the future.

Viserys then had a guard bring over a map, which was unfolded on the table for everyone in the council chamber to see clearly.

It was a map of the eastern coast of the continent of Essos, centered on Andalos, with the easternmost point reaching Norvos and the southernmost point reaching the Great Plains.

Viserys then pointed to an ancient road that ran from the coast of Braavos to the Bay of Lorath.

At the eastern edge of the River Rhoyne, where this ancient road lay, was the junction of the Disputed Lands' mountain range and the Norvoshi Mountains. Continuing east from here, one could reach the Bay of Lorath or even bypass the Norvoshi Mountains to reach the Axe. It was a suitable route for military expeditions.

"We shall build a permanent camp here."

Viserys' finger fell precisely on the only mountain pass between the two mountain ranges, and he spoke solemnly.

"Oberyn's army will be stationed here."

The location of this mountain pass was crucial, especially for a city-state like Andalos without city walls.

The pass was not far from Andalos, and having an army stationed there to establish a permanent camp would serve important functions, such as securing the border and setting up checkpoints to inspect incoming and outgoing goods.

In fact, the army of Andalos was already stationed there, as this had been a plan approved by the higher-ups.

"I understand."

As the commander of the Second Army, Oberyn had just donned the medal of the Legion's commander and nodded slightly. However, his quick-witted mind prompted him to ask an additional question.

"Your Majesty, is the construction of a permanent camp here meant to guard against Norvos?"

The mountain pass happened to block the main road leading to Norvos, so Oberyn asked the question.

"No."

Viserys shook his head slightly and spoke seriously.

"To guard against Braavos."

"Hmm?"

Hearing Viserys' words, Oberyn froze in place for a moment, then lowered his head and widened his eyes to look at the map before him.

After a while, the clever Oberyn seemed to finally see the clues and understand Viserys' true intentions.

"So that's it."

"Will Braavos turn against us?"

Oberyn's eyes narrowed as he asked the question.

"I don't know."

"But it's better to be prepared in advance."

Viserys didn't look up from the map on the table as he spoke, not seeing Oberyn's bitter smile.

He then pointed in the opposite direction.

Here was the location of the Andalos port, which was also where the Dragonstone fleet was currently docked.

"Build a large town here."

Viserys decided to greatly develop this town, attracting a large population, promoting economic trade, and increasing its potential.

After all, having a port naturally provided the advantage of waterways. If merchants wanted to go to Norvos, this place might be closer than Pentos.

Everyone in the Small Council nodded slightly, as this idea was within their expectations.

As the port had grown alongside Andalos' development, it had gradually begun to thrive, with merchant ships docking, trade convoys coming and going, and supplies being replenished.

Naturally, nearby villagers gathered to do business with these trade convoys and merchant ships. With the investment of wealthy merchants, a small town began to develop spontaneously.

All Viserys had to do was provide more policies and financial support, taking money from the royal treasury to build this town. In the future, it would become an important part of the Targaryen royal family's assets, a merit that would benefit generations to come.

With the plans for a camp and a town complete, the last items were the two castles Viserys planned to build.

"The first castle will be here."

Viserys pointed to the end of the Velvet Hills, west of Andalos, which was one of the two main roads leading to Pentos.

One route followed the Rhoyne River by boat, disembarking at the banks of the Trident and then traveling overland directly to Pentos.

The second route was a flat, all-land road that went straight from Andalos to Pentos, bypassing the Velvet Hills from the west.

Viserys' finger was now pointing at this strategically important location. If one looked at the topography of the entire eastern coast of Essos, this place was like an outwardly protruding tip, with its sharp end pointing directly towards Dragonstone and King's Landing.

"Build a 'Sentinel's Tower' here to scout for potential naval attacks from Stannis."

Stannis' royal fleet was now Viserys' greatest concern, given that they had risen to prominence during the War of the Usurper and had defeated the Dragonstone fleet.

The planned 'Sentinel's Tower' was essentially a watchtower or beacon, with a castle below it. It would house troops, construct a small military port, and patrol ships in the area to guard against enemies suddenly sailing from across the Narrow Sea.

"And the second one will be here."

Viserys then pointed to the site of the ruins of Ghoyan Drohe on the banks of the Trident, where a great battle had once taken place.

Viserys had extended his reach to this location during his previous expansion and had decided to make use of the abandoned city-state to build a castle here.

"Build a 'Fort of Valiant Souls' here to honor the brave souls who once fiercely resisted the Dothraki invasion."

Viserys had extended his reach to this location during his previous expansion and had decided to make use of the abandoned city-state to build a castle here.

"Build a 'Fort of Valiant Souls' here to honor the brave souls who once fiercely resisted the Dothraki invasion."

With these plans in place, Viserys and his council set to work on implementing these defensive measures and expanding the infrastructure of their kingdom. They knew that securing the loyalty of the people and preparing for any potential threats would be key to the stability and prosperity of their rule.

Chapter 188: Fort of Valiant Souls

"Ser Bessie."

After discussing the specific locations for the two castles, Viserys spoke up.

"Your Grace."

Hearing the king call his name, the stoic knight in the iron mask turned his head. The smooth mask reflected a metallic glow under the lamplight, and then he spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Your First Legion will be stationed at the Fort of Valiant Souls."

"Understood."

The legion commander, nicknamed 'the Saint' by his soldiers, agreed without hesitation or even furrowing his brow.

"Your Grace!"

However, others in the small council meeting were taken aback by Viserys' arrangement. Even the red priestess Melisandre's face revealed a hint of confusion.

They weren't concerned that sending both legions away would leave the border strong but the center weak.

In fact, with the departure of the two legions from Andalos, the military strength of Andalos was not considered vulnerable.

Viserys still held considerable military power, and had exchanged power with Oberyn, allocating two thousand city guards under the command of the old knight.

What they were worried about was another issue.

"Isn't this too provocative to Pentos?"

Apart from Ser Bessie, the others believed that Viserys' arrangement had practically put a sword to Pentos' neck, forcing Pentos to lean towards the Iron Throne.

What was the king trying to do?

Viserys had not yet publicly revealed the news that Ramsay had brought back from Pentos during the small council meeting.

They only knew that not long ago, Pentos had sent a letter inviting Viserys to visit Pentos as a guest to celebrate the arrival of the new year.

Pentos would host a grand banquet, inviting numerous distinguished guests to join in the city-wide celebration.

The date was fast approaching.

"Is Your Grace trying to warn Pentos not to act rashly through this move?"

The old knight, wearing the badge of the Hand of the King, furrowed his brow and asked.

If this was the explanation, it made sense.

There were only two ways for a kingdom to deal with unstable forces around it: one was to suppress, the other to appease.

Viserys had simply chosen the method of suppression, but the money spent seemed no less than appeasement, perhaps even more, considering that building the Fort of Valiant Souls was a massive undertaking.

If the construction was completed, this place would truly become a strategically important location, grasping a lifeline for Pentos and Norvos.

Moreover, any future attacks on Andalos via the Rhoyne River would require overcoming this easily defensible and hard-to-attack fortress, making this an undoubtedly wise move.

However, while the idea was easy and spending money was worthwhile, the difficulty of the Fort of Valiant Souls lay in the pressure it bore and whether it could be built successfully.

After all, the castle posed too great a threat to Pentos, which would never allow Andalos to construct a castle here.

One to the east and one to the west. .

On the other side, there was a sentinel castle overlooking the sea, which could pose a serious strategic threat to Pentos.

If completed in the next few years, Andalos could potentially cut off all connections between Pentos and the outside world at any moment, effectively besieging the formidable city and turning it into an isolated island.

"Deterrence? Warning?"

Whispers and speculation filled the royal council meeting as they tried to discern the king's intentions behind these plans. Melisandre's captivating eyes were fixed on Viserys, as if trying to understand what he was thinking.

Viserys, however, rested his hands on the table and scanned the room, not in a hurry to explain anything.

When the whispers finally died down, Viserys produced the intelligence report that Ramsay had obtained and tossed it onto the table.

"Take a look."

Despite the incident with the maester, there was no better way to deal with the situation other than tightening security and using the Small Council to root out spies.

Those present were Viserys' most trusted people, so he had no qualms about sharing the secret intelligence report.

Ramsay outlined two possibilities in his report.

The Magisters of Pentos were now divided into two factions.

One faction advocated for a conciliatory policy, continuing to send gifts to Viserys to satisfy the greedy appetite of the dragon.

The other faction called for an alliance with the Iron Throne to eliminate this potential threat.

Rumors had it that the Targaryen dragons were still in their infancy. If Viserys could be captured, they could threaten him to hand over the dragons, giving Pentos the confidence to break the unequal treaty and rebuild their fleet to exact revenge on Braavos.

Each faction had its own reasons; one side was conservative, and the other was radical. It was difficult to say who had the upper hand.

The Magister assassinated by Ramsay was a member of the conservative faction, siding with Magister Illyrio. As a result, it was possible that the conservative faction was now at a disadvantage.

Ramsay's advice to Viserys was not to attend the celebration.

It could very well turn into a 'Rat Cook' scenario, trampling on the rights of the guests.

This was a famous horrifying tale that had circulated in Westeros for a long time, enough to make children stop crying. It told the story of violating guest rights.

Ramsay used this story to remind Viserys that the Magisters of Pentos were also ruthless individuals who would stop at nothing to achieve their goals.

They could very well invite Viserys to Pentos, only to suddenly seize control of him and force him to hand over the dragons.

"What?"

The revelation in Ramsay's report sent shockwaves through the room.

"Could such a thing really happen?"

Everyone found it hard to believe that the Magisters of Pentos would dare to trample on guest rights.

If they truly did so, Pentos would lose all credibility, and killing a guest under one's own roof was a sin the gods would never forgive.

"How dare Pentos do such a thing?!"

The old knight was furious, clenching his fists.

However, upon closer thought, under the powerful temptation of dragons, it seemed... not entirely impossible for the Magisters of Pentos to act irrationally.

"Pentos is not making a wise choice."

Oberyn's brow furrowed as well. If Pentos truly sided with the Iron Throne, Andalos' southern border would naturally be under pressure.

Viserys' strategic deployments made sense in this context.

He stationed the First Legion in Ghaston Grey and initiated the construction of the Valyrian Castle, preparing for a sudden attack from Pentos.

" And to willingly violate guest rights... it's like..."

Oberyn frowned, then looked up at Viserys and abruptly asked,

"Your Majesty, will you still go to Pentos for this event?"

Chapter 189: Dangerous Game

"Your Majesty cannot go!"

As Oberyn's words fell, someone immediately spoke up.

"Since Pentos has made contact with the usurpers and intends to trample on guest rights, why go?"

"Wouldn't that be putting the king in danger?"

"Your Majesty's life is too precious to take such a risk."

The conference hall became noisy all at once, and the others nodded in agreement with this person's opinion. If they didn't know, it wouldn't matter, but since they had found out about Pentos's malicious intent, they must not risk their lives.

However, Oberyn did not speak up, holding the intelligence report in his hand and looking up at Viserys.

His thinking was different from the others, and combined with Viserys's recent arrangements, he seemed to have faintly guessed his true intention.

Sure enough.

Oberyn looked at Viserys, and Viserys, with a calm expression, listened to the surrounding commotion and appeared thoughtful, not rushing to speak.

After everyone had closed their mouths and their eyes had fallen on him, he nodded slightly and spoke calmly.

"Go."

"Why not go?"

Viserys's answer surprised everyone present except for Oberyn and Bessie.

"I dared to go alone to Braavos when I was eight, so why not go to Pentos now?"

"Am I regressing with age?"

"But…"

The council members looked at each other, wanting to say that these two situations were not the same, but they couldn't find the words.

"Besides… half of the conservative Magisters are still there. Things may not necessarily take a turn for the worse."

Viserys showed a smile, which slowly faded.

Oberyn, on the other hand, had been confident from the start, marveling at how much the young man had changed over the years.

He thought back to the first time he had met Viserys, when the boy had fallen asleep in the bath due to exhaustion. When he had opened his eyes to see a stranger, panic filled his eyes, yet he still clenched his fists and pretended to be calm.

"He's not reckless…"

"He's just brave—"

For some reason, a line from a song flashed through Oberyn's mind.

It was the story of a wandering knight who set out on a lonely journey.

...

The afternoon meeting ended quickly.

Viserys did not ask them to stay for dinner.

After the meeting, as expected, Oberyn was waiting for him outside the door.

"Shall we take a walk together?"

Oberyn was tall and slender, with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. His appearance was perfect, with messy black curls atop his head and a light goatee framing his face.

He then raised his chin slightly.

"Alright."

Viserys was not surprised to find Oberyn waiting for him at the door and nodded in response.

There was a garden inside Andalos Castle.

Although it did not contain any rare or precious plants, it still offered a splash of viBenjent colors. However, the weather had been getting colder recently, and while the continent of Essos was not connected to the Land of Always Winter, the cold winds from the north were inevitably felt here.

Many of the flowers in the garden had now wilted.

However, the two men were not really here to appreciate the flowers; this was merely an opportunity for a private conversation.

"Your Majesty."

"Prince."

A passing servant saw the two walking side by side in the garden and bowed slightly in respect before hurriedly leaving for the distance, not daring to disturb them.

"This is quite a risky move, Viserys."

"Are you certain Panto will fall for it? And... what if it fails?"

The sun was setting in the west.

The sky was bathed in a blood-red hue, reminiscent of the color of a divine weapon.

The two strolled through the garden, their shadows falling on the smooth marble tiles. Fifteen-year-old Viserys was only slightly shorter than Oberyn.

It was Prince Oberyn of Dorne who broke the silence, turning his head to look at Viserys.

Viserys and Oberyn could be considered ageless friends, with a gap of more than a decade between their ages.

Interestingly, the two found common ground and shared some wild ideas, eventually becoming friends.

In formal settings, Oberyn would address Viserys as Your Grace, while in private he simply called him by his name, and Viserys had no objections.

"A risky move?"

Viserys turned to look at Oberyn.

He knew Oberyn's concerns were not without merit. On the surface, it indeed seemed like a risky endeavor, but...

"This isn't a risky move, Oberyn."

It didn't surprise Viserys that Oberyn could guess his intentions.

After all, they had known each other for so long. From the beginning, Oberyn treated him not as a child but as an adult.

Moreover, this young man's mind was truly sharper than most, worthy of the six maester's chains he had earned. Many times, Oberyn could guess Viserys's thoughts.

However...

It was a pity that this clever fellow met such an unfortunate end in the original timeline.

The Mountain wasn't terrifying; Viserys never considered him a true opponent, even though his hands were stained with Targaryen blood.

For such a brute, Viserys could easily dispose of him by sending a few dozen soldiers or setting a trap.

The real threats in Viserys's eyes were Robert, Stannis, Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark, Benjendon Tully, and others...

A man who could have relied on his intellect instead chose to face the most wicked man in the Seven Kingdoms in a one-on-one duel.

Viserys looked up at Oberyn, but the look in his eyes sent a chill down the prince's spine.

"What?"

The Prince of Dorne couldn't help but scratch his head, puzzled.

However, Viserys didn't elaborate to Oberyn. He just shook his head.

"Oberyn, I never joke with my own life. I fear death more than most."

"If I dare to do this, it's because I have the means to do so."

He knew that Panto's journey could be dangerous, even feeling a bit anxious about it.

Yet, he was still willing to give it a try.

After all, this was the best way to break the deadlock. If they missed this opportunity, it would become increasingly difficult to make progress in the future.

Winter was coming.

This was the perfect chance.

"Oberyn, trust me."

A cold wind blew through the garden as Viserys flashed a smile.

"Is that so?"

Oberyn was somewhat confused, still immersed in the gaze Viserys had given him moments before...

That feeling... it was as if he was looking at a dead man.

What was going on?

Oberyn stood in the garden, bewildered, watching Viserys's figure gradually disappear into the distance. .

Chapter 190: Dinner

As dusk passed, night swiftly arrived.

The evening meal was still a Targaryen family feast.

Daenerys, whose hair and eyebrows had once been burned away by fire, had regrown her hair and thus removed the hat she had always worn on her head.

Now the girl had a head of soft silver-gold hair, giving her a dashing appearance.

She sat at the right side of the long table in the banquet hall, and across from her was her niece, Rhaenys Targaryen, four years older than her, although the girl was always forced to call Rhaenys "sister" under some kind of lewd threat.

Seated in the main spot at the dining table was Viserys, but his seat was empty at the moment, indicating that Viserys was late today. The brown-haired girl, resting one hand on her cheek, seemed somewhat sullen.

Soon, the sound of commotion came from outside the door, followed by a steady footstep.

"Your Grace."

The maid curtsied respectfully and then pushed open the door to the banquet hall. The young king strode in from outside.

Viserys had been busy with his official duties today.

He had stayed up late last night to finalize a plan that had been in the works for some time, producing a detailed proposal.

In the morning, he had dealt with the intelligence brought by Ramsay.

In the afternoon, he had convened a council meeting in his capacity as king. He had barely eaten any lunch, and his stomach had been growling all day.

"Hey, Rhaenys, Dany, I'm sorry I'm late."

Viserys hurriedly entered from the door and apologized to the two girls first.

He then draped his coat, which was hanging on his elbow, over the back of the chair, and a maid who was serving nearby quickly took it and helped the king arrange the garment on the coat rack.

"I'm starving, starving, let's eat quickly!"

The silver-haired little girl, who had been lying on the table, saw her brother finally arrive and quickly got up. Her eyebrows danced with joy, and she raised her knife and fork like cheering.

She had been hungry for a while.

However, they always had a small rule: the family must be complete before they could eat, except when someone was away.

"Hmph."

For some reason, the brown-haired girl on the other side of the table snorted coldly, seemingly expressing some dissatisfaction.

The girl's black eyes swept over Daenerys, who was holding her knife and fork, and she spoke with a stiff tone.

"Dany, haven't I told you that knives and forks are not toys?"

"They shouldn't be touched except during meals."

Although Rhaenys was usually carefree and lighthearted, her serious reprimands still had some deterrent effect, especially for Daenerys, who had been raised by her since childhood.

The silver-haired girl immediately shrank her neck, and her eyebrows ceased to dance. She quickly put down her knife and fork.

However, her mouth still mumbled unwillingly.

"But... but we're eating now, aren't we?"

Daenerys then saw the brown-haired girl's face darken, and the glint in her eyes grew increasingly dangerous.

She decisively raised her hand to cover her mouth and gestured with her finger, promising that she would not speak again.

Only then did Rhaenys withdraw her gaze.

"Hmm?"

Viserys, who had just taken off his coat and stood by his chair, watched the scene with a slight daze, apparently not understanding what had happened.

The silver-haired young man then pulled out his chair, and sat down, pulling the chair closer to the table.

"What's going on?"

"Who has angered our respected Princess Rhaenys?"

Viserys was somewhat puzzled.

Usually, Rhaenys was an extremely optimistic girl, even carefree, living a worry-free life since childhood, especially within this castle...

Who would dare to bully her besides himself?

Hmm?

However, as he thought about it, the silver-haired young man paused abruptly.

"Hmph, no one!"

Rhaenys responded to Viserys' question with a soft huff, firmly denying it. Then, with a gloomy face, she stared into Viserys' eyes and emphasized again, word by word.

"No! One! Did! Any! Thing!"

"This..."

Viserys felt a little uneasy under the girl's gaze, but he didn't know what had happened specifically or when he had offended the little demon in his family.

Subsequently, the young king, who had been commanding outside, took a deep breath and was about to say something.

"Rhaenys..."

But he was rudely interrupted by the brown-haired girl.

"Let's eat first."

Having said that, Rhaenys began eating her dinner by herself.

Viserys glanced at Daenerys on the other side, who also seemed clueless about what had happened.

Rhaenys' mood today...seemed a bit irritable?

Then, the silver-haired little girl felt a scorching gaze fiercely slashing across her cheek, making her shiver involuntarily. She quickly picked up her knife and fork to taste today's dinner.

Today's Targaryen family dinner was relatively sumptuous.

A honey-roasted chicken, a plate of grilled sausages, bread, lettuce leaves, meat soup, and boiled eggs.

Since they still needed to grow, Viserys encouraged the girls to eat more milk and eggs to supplement their protein intake.

Today's dinner atmosphere was eerily silent.

Viserys signaled to the servants nearby, allowing them to leave first. Soon, only the Targaryen-blooded family remained in the room.

Viserys carefully used a fork to stab a piece of chicken and was about to move it to his plate when it was intercepted by another fork.

The sound of metal clashing echoed as the chicken piece on Viserys' fork was knocked off. The other fork quickly snatched the chicken Viserys had his eye on and stuffed it into its owner's mouth.

Viserys stared at his empty fork, dumbfounded for a few seconds.

He then turned to look at the gloomy-faced girl, chewing the chicken forcefully. Her cheeks bulging from the chicken made it seem like she was chewing Viserys' flesh...

With force.

Viserys took a deep breath, didn't speak, and continued to search for his next 'prey' on his plate.

However, at that moment...

Clang—

The silent room echoed with the sound of a knife and fork striking the plate.

Daenerys was eating her dinner with her head down, almost burying her face in the plate, not daring to look up for fear of accidentally angering the furious tigress.

Viserys finally realized that the girl was trying to create a presence by making noise, hoping he would speak first.

However, before Viserys could speak, the girl chewing on the roast chicken while frowning locked her gaze on him.

She then took the initiative to speak.

"Viserys, I heard... a Dornish princess is coming?"

Chapter 191: Guarding the Gate

Upon hearing Rhaenys's words, Viserys was taken aback for a moment. He hadn't expected her to be angry about this matter.

However, he soon realized another problem.

"Wait..."

"How did you know?"

Viserys looked at the brown-haired girl in astonishment.

He had only mentioned this matter during a small council meeting. After all, many people were already aware of the alliance between Dorne and Andalos, even though it hadn't been officially announced yet. The Iron Throne hadn't broken off relations with Dorne because of it either.

The main purpose of politics is compromise and exchange. There is nothing that cannot be sacrificed.

As for the current council members at the small council, Viserys trusted them to be loyal. While Varys's spies in the internal affairs department could find faults in other areas, they had no connection to the Iron Throne.

Even if there were spies for the Iron Throne, they wouldn't leak this information to a young girl like Rhaenys.

How did Rhaenys find out?

"Did you have someone eavesdrop on the meeting?"

Could it be that Rhaenys had cultivated her own network of loyal followers within the castle?

Viserys couldn't help but think so. If that were the case, he would be quite impressed with the brown-haired girl.

"Heh heh..."

However, the girl chuckled softly and then swallowed the piece of chicken she had just been eating.

She picked up a roasted sausage with her fork and placed it on her plate. Holding the sausage with her left hand, she used a knife in her right hand to cut open the sausage, which had already burst from being grilled.

After putting it in her mouth and chewing vigorously, she finally spoke with a pout.

"No, I didn't."

"I just... overheard it myself."

"At that time, I needed to talk to you, but you were in a meeting. I went over there and the guards stopped me."

"But I insisted on going through, and in the end, they had no choice but to let me in."

All the guards and servants in the castle knew that the eldest princess was not to be trifled with, as she was like a little demon. Moreover, she was now at an age where even dogs would detest her.

Comparatively, Princess Daenerys was more gentle, polite, and adorable.

And the true master of the castle was even more indifferent, with almost no hard requirements for the servants. They received a generous salary every month, but in reality, there wasn't much for them to do.

As a result, the guards didn't dare to stop Rhaenys. And given her special status and Viserys's indulgence, letting her through wouldn't cause any trouble...

So, the brown-haired girl accidentally overheard some explosive news.

In fact, she had known a little about Arianne Martell even earlier.

After all, Rhaenys had half of her mother Elia Martell's bloodline running through her veins, making her part of House Martell. Her brown hair and black eyes were inherited from her mother.

Arianne should be considered her cousin.

Oberyn had inadvertently revealed this information to his niece in a conversation, asking Rhaenys to take care of her sister who had come from afar, as they might become family in the future.

However, Oberyn's expression was somewhat vague, and Rhaenys didn't fully understand it at the time.

It wasn't until she overheard the conversation this time that she understood the whole situation.

"Oh, I see."

.

Viserys breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the girl's muttering.

If that was the case, he could rest easy; otherwise, he would have thought he couldn't keep any secrets here, and the guard would need to be purged.

Viserys nodded, but Rhaenys still seemed quite dissatisfied. Clenching her little fists, she wasn't sure how to intervene in this matter and could only speak up with a sulky tone.

"Hey, Viserys... you haven't explained the matter of the Dornish princess yet."

"Uh... about that..."

As Viserys looked at Rhaenys, just about to explain something, Rhaenys interrupted him again.

"Don't overthink it..."

"I don't care if you marry a princess or not."

"I just, I just... as a member of the family, I think I should look out for you and vet your future 'sister-in-law.'"

Rhaenys turned her head unnaturally, glancing at the candlelight on one side, and then asked,

"Sister-in-law?"

However, Viserys accurately grasped the loophole in her words.

Upon careful consideration, Rhaenys was his niece, and Arianne was her cousin. His sister-in-law would be Rhaenys's mother and also Arianne's aunt, while Arianne wanted to make a marriage pact with him.

What kind of relationship was this?

If Arianne could see Elia again, should she call her aunt or sister-in-law?

"Alright, alright..."

Rhaenys impatiently stirred up Viserys's grasp on the loophole in her words.

"I just think I should look out for you. What do you think?"

"What if she isn't a good woman?"

Rhaenys stared intently at Viserys, who was also feeling a bit of a headache. What kind of lookout would Rhaenys be for him?

Viserys knew better than anyone what Arianne would be like later, but for now, she was just a girl not much older than Rhaenys.

"She's your sister..."

Viserys kindly reminded her.

"You... if you don't want to, then forget it..."

Hearing his words, Rhaenys's expression suddenly became somewhat gloomy. She glanced at Viserys and then looked away, whispering,

"Even if I'm being meddlesome."

"Okay, okay..."

Seeing Rhaenys like this, Viserys quickly raised his hands in surrender.

He feared seeing Rhaenys like this the most, even more than when she acted like a little demon.

"Have it your way."

Viserys sighed helplessly, shaking his head, but then smiled.

He genuinely didn't know what Rhaenys would be like when she grew up.

Would she still be lively and mischievous, or would she change?

Then Viserys glanced at the silver-haired little girl on the other side who had been watching the entire time, not understanding the argument between the two.

Daenerys nibbled on a tasteless boiled egg in her hand, the yolk sticking to her teeth and rubbing a bit on her nose, but she remained oblivious.

Viserys reached out to wipe the yolk off his sister's nose, feeling speechless.

He didn't know if Rhaenys would change.

However, Daenerys did change a lot when she grew up compared to her childhood.

She even became somewhat stubborn and even mad, just like his father and Viserys in the original timeline.

Perhaps it had something to do with the large amounts of hallucinogens her mother, Rhaella, had taken while pregnant with her on Dragonstone.

Or perhaps it was related to the twists and turns of her turbulent life in the original timeline.

But... that won't happen again in this lifetime.

Chapter 192: Setting Out

In the blink of an eye, the days passed.

A new year was about to begin.

Andaros had its own celebrations for the new year, but Pentos held an even grander feast.

And it especially invited the exiled Young Dragon, who had a claim to the Iron Throne in Essos, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, the Son of the Sun, the Apostles of the Seven Gods, the Guardian of Andaros, and so on... This long list of titles almost covered the entire invitation.

Pentos solemnly invited Viserys to attend the feast, and Viserys did not refuse.

A month before he turned sixteen, just like the last time, he set out for Pentos with over a hundred knights and their accompanying archers, trumpeters, farriers, and others, making up a cavalry unit of more than two hundred people.

This time, Viserys did not bring thousands of people to Pentos in a grand display, because his army had already arrived at Ghaston Grey in advance, ready to begin construction on the Fortress of Heroes.

Merchants traveling from Pentos to Norvos, Qohor, and even those daring to sell goods to the Dothraki Sea had already discovered an army flying the Targaryen dragon banner stationed there.

Thus, Viserys did not make a big show of it and merely set out from Andaros to another city-state with just over two hundred people.

However, a few unassuming faces had joined his guard, including the bastard son of the Dreadfort's lord, 'Little Flayer' Ramsay Snow, who wore light leather armor, a black hood, and rode a black horse alongside Viserys.

The underground organization he now controlled, the 'Internal Affairs Department,' had expanded from its original five members to over twenty subordinates.

When not on missions, these people would mingle in Andaros's streets and alleys, taverns and brothels, and even among petty thieves and scattered low-level organizations.

This hidden gray area beneath the city's bright surface was where news circulated most frequently and was even closer to the lower class.

Ramsay, having once lived with the smelly man, was not particular about cleanliness and could even get along well with the rats in the sewers, calling each other brothers, and quickly established a territory in Andaros's gray area.

However, no one knew that this ruthless and even perverse man had the "cleanest" of identities, and could even directly contact the lord of this castle through his 'ears to the ground.'

It was unknown why Viserys had brought Little Flayer along on this trip to Pentos.

With his black hood, head lowered, and barely discernable face, Ramsay silently followed Viserys, like a hunting dog awaiting its target.

Viserys sat on his horse, his body swaying slightly with the warhorse's footsteps, as a group of cavalrymen surrounded him on both sides, and the long procession stretched far along the road.

The speed of the procession was not very fast, as if they were leisurely sightseeing in the countryside.

If it weren't for the recent sudden drop in temperature, the breath coming out of their mouths turning into white mist, and the fact that these soldiers wore armor and held shining long spears, it would have looked even more like a collective outing.

"Ramsay, have you taken care of the matter I entrusted to you recently?" Viserys asked lazily, turning his head.

"Yes, please rest assured."

Ramsey's face remained hidden within his hood, only slightly lifting his head and exhaling a white mist from the hood. His voice was somewhat hoarse.

"He will meet you at the appointed time and place."

Since taking on this job, Ramsey felt his abilities had improved significantly, and it seemed he had found a direction suitable for his development.

Once, he took pleasure in tormenting others, hoping that through such cruel means, he could prove to others that he was a 'true Bolton' and not a lowly bastard.

But no matter how cruel and insane Ramsey was at that time, nobody saw him as a 'true Bolton.' Instead, they all shunned him, viewing him as a repulsive monster.

Ramsey fell into confusion, unsure of his future path.

Perhaps as long as his older brother was alive, he would never become a 'true Bolton.'

Ramsey found the real answer. However, before he could carry out his plan, his father sent him across the sea.

Ramsey was grateful for the opportunity he had won at that time. His king, Viserys Targaryen III, showed him another right path.

At first, he didn't know how to proceed, but once he found the right way, he was intoxicated by it.

He enjoyed the feeling of secretly spying and eavesdropping, knowing all the secrets.

The seemingly glamorous knights were disgusting beasts in private, only capable of thrusting their fat bodies on women's bellies.

And Ramsey would stand quietly outside their windows at that time, his eyes calmly watching them, just like observing two pigs in his childhood stepmother's pigsty, mating with grunts and snorts.

He loved the feeling of mastering all the secrets, to the point that even the idea of being a 'true Bolton' faded away.

Of course.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be a Bolton, but he hoped that one day in the future, that old man would kneel at his feet, begging him to become a Bolton.

Such a scene...

Would be quite entertaining.

A shadowy face beneath the hood revealed madness.

…

Afterward.

Several more days passed in a flash.

Viserys and his cavalry passed through more than half of the Andras Plain, reaching an important turning point on one of the two land routes leading to Pentos.

This place could be seen on the map, jutting out sharply on the western side of the Velvet Mountains.

Viserys planned to build a sentinel tower here, as well as a small military harbor, mainly to guard against surprise attacks from the royal fleet across the Narrow Sea.

At the moment, the progress here was faster than at the Eyrie, mainly because there was less resistance, and the threat to Pentos was not as direct as that posed by the Eyrie.

The construction of the Eyrie was like a sword pressed against Pentos' throat, while the sentinel tower was more like moving a chair and sitting at their doorstep, watching them day and night.

The threats posed by these two were different.

And here.

A large ship, bearing no flags, silently docked at the shore, appearing to have been waiting for quite some time.

A ragged, white-haired old man stood quietly at the bow of the ship, gripping the railing.

He watched as the cavalry, flying the three-headed dragon banner, approached like a long serpent in the distance.

Chapter 193: Arrival

In the year 291 AC, a new year had begun.

A heavy snowfall blanketed the land.

In this vast white world, a group of heavily armored riders clad in animal pelts appeared on the main road.

The sound of hooves trampling through the deep snow echoed as they slowly approached the magnificent city looming on the horizon.

"Your Grace."

In the midst of the swirling snowstorm, a guard accompanying Viserys shielded his eyes from the falling snowflakes, squinting as he tried to see through the white expanse. He looked towards the barely visible city in the distance, then turned to Viserys, his breath visible in the cold air.

"Pentos is nearly within our reach."

Viserys, mounted on a white horse and wearing thick deerskin gloves, gripped the reins and squinted into the distance as well. Snowflakes settled on his long eyelashes.

"Yes."

He then patted his saddle and turned to address his men.

"Everyone, let's push forward. Once we reach Pentos, I promise there will be fine wine and beautiful women."

"Ha ha!"

At Viserys' words, the soldiers in the party broke into smiles, and their fatigue and cold seemed to vanish.

Of course, they knew Viserys was joking.

But such a down-to-earth young king made them feel a sense of loyalty and admiration.

His charisma was like the sun, shining brightly and drawing people to unite around him, be they Andals or Rhoynars.

And he never looked down on them like some nobles, who treated commoners as if they were pigs or dogs.

If a king could love and care for his people like a father, then why should these small nobles, who had less land than a village, hold their heads so high?

Inspired by Viserys' example, his subordinate nobles also dared not act arrogantly.

At least within the Andalos region, if any nobles dared to wreak havoc, their liege lord would hastily execute them, fearing the repercussions.

As a result, Viserys enjoyed immense prestige among the common folk, and was molded into a perfect image in the public eye.

Moreover, with the help of the Department of Internal Affairs, any news circulating in Andalos would appear on Viserys' desk the very next day.

The long line of riders, protecting their king, slowly made their way towards the northern gate of Pentos.

This time, the guards at Pentos' northern gate were not startled by the armored knights covered in snow, avoiding a scene.

For they had already received word of Viserys' arrival and cleared the way to welcome him.

However...

The underlying problems with the Pentos guards still remained unresolved.

Viserys rode atop his warhorse, which snorted and released a puff of white breath.

The guards below stood in a disheveled formation, their helmets askew, yawning constantly, and appearing sleep-deprived with dark circles under their eyes.

"Your Grace."

"The Magister had intended to greet you, but the snowstorm is too severe..."

The gate officer, a portly man with a greasy face, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and nervously explained.

While others shivered in the frigid weather, his ample fat served an important purpose.

Pentos was also buried under heavy snowfall, and the previous night's storm had caused several houses and markets to collapse, resulting in the deaths of some commoners.

Illirio had intended to greet Viserys, but on the way, the carriage wheels struggled to move through the heavy snow, causing a bit of a traffic delay.

"No matter, we can wait for Lord Illirio."

However, Viserys waved his hand, not caring whether anyone was there to greet him or not. Snow continued to fall overhead, and his breath formed white clouds in the cold air.

His gaze shifted from the distant, snow-covered bustling cityscape and landed on the gate guard and surrounding Pentos guards below him.

His eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a hint of a smile.

"Let's chat for a bit."

Viserys then gently patted the saddle and dismounted, stepping into the accumulated snow.

"Your Grace."

A lean and observant Pentos guard quickly took the reins from Viserys' hand.

"Uh..."

The portly gate guard was unsure what Viserys wanted to talk about with him.

After walking just a few steps, he was already panting, with white clouds of breath emerging and sweat rolling down his forehead. His body was clearly very weak.

Such a physique was not just unsuitable for the military, but even inferior to a common farmer's boy.

Yet, he had become a gate guard for the city of Pentos, a position of importance.

Viserys was somewhat curious, so he brushed off the snow from his deer-hide gloves and turned to ask.

"Just a casual conversation, don't be nervous."

"How is it? Being a city guard in a prosperous city-state like Pentos must be a cushy job, right?"

"Uh..."

The gate guard was still somewhat tense while conversing with Viserys.

Especially when faced with those pale purple eyes, his anxiety intensified.

"Uh... It's okay, it's okay."

"Just opening the city gates every day, collecting some 'tolls,' and then... uh..."

As a guard of Pentos' city gate, this was a plum assignment, particularly for someone in such an important position as the gate guard.

His uncle was a wealthy Magister in Pentos, so it took quite a bit of money to secure him this important post.

Countless merchant caravans passed through this gate daily, and if any contraband was discovered, these city guards had the authority to confiscate or impound the caravans.

Of course, if someone willingly paid a 'toll,' they wouldn't mind letting them through.

As a result, Pentos' defense force had become highly corrupt, even rivaling the gold cloaks in King's Landing.

However, the Pentos Magisters had no intention of replacing the current commander, as this was a compromise they had reached. The next commander might be even worse.

Realizing that he had let something slip, the gate guard's face grew even more tense. He quickly covered his mouth, and no matter what Viserys asked next, he remained silent.

Viserys didn't mind, though, merely offering a slight smile.

From his last visit to Pentos to this one, he had roughly figured out the state of the city-state's only 'regular army.'

At that moment, the Pentos Magister Illirio, who was delayed by the morning snow traffic, finally arrived in his carriage.

The obese middle-aged man climbed down from the carriage, panting heavily. He approached Viserys and shook his hand.

"I apologize, Your Grace."

"The snow was too heavy yesterday, and I couldn't make it in time."

Chapter 194: Assassin

The yellow-forked-beard merchant Magister began to complain about the terrible weather, tightly gripping Viserys' hand.

However, he looked around and took the opportunity to lean forward slightly while holding Viserys' hand.

He whispered in Viserys' ear, like a mosquito's hum.

"Your Majesty, you shouldn't have come to Pentos."

"Oh?"

Viserys raised his eyebrows upon hearing his words, tilted his head slightly to look at the plump Magister's ear, and appeared somewhat surprised.

Then, he knowingly responded quietly.

"What do you mean by that, Magister?"

"Ah..."

However, Illyrio didn't say much more, just sighed and shook his head.

He soon let go of Viserys' hand and gestured with an invitation.

"Your Majesty, let's talk about this back at the manor."

...

Not long after, the cavalry led by Viserys entered the city of Pentos. They raised their banners and rode through the wide streets of the city, drawing the attention of many Pentoshi.

This was a prosperous and magnificent city far surpassing Andalos and even rivaled King's Landing. Square brick towers covered with tiles could be seen everywhere.

In the distance, towering hills were surrounded by dense buildings. Now, everything was covered in a blanket of snow, and the heavy snow continued to fall from the sky.

"Phew..."

Viserys rode his warhorse, followed by the cavalry as they crossed the bustling streets of Pentos, breathing out white vapor.

Pentos had a dense population, even rumored to surpass that of Slaver's Bay's Astapor. Viserys' cavalry of over two hundred people entering Pentos was like a small boat entering a vast ocean, unable to make any waves.

The regular army, not mercenaries, marching through the streets still attracted the attention of many Pentoshi, especially with their bright red three-headed dragon banners.

The Pentoshi were all too familiar with this emblem.

They knew that a powerful neighbor had risen around Pentos - the exiled Targaryen royal family, who had come to Essos, carrying the blood of true kings.

Illyrio's carriage led the way, clearing the crowd to the sides. The Magister's banner was ultimately more useful in Pentos than the Targaryen's.

Curious onlookers stared at them from both sides.

Viserys, sitting on horseback, could see the bustling crowd.

There were street vendors pushing carts, barefoot fishermen shouting to sell their fish, children playing on rooftops with sunburnt cheeks, groups of armed mercenaries, and even a few Dothraki.

These Dothraki might be slaves of some rich merchant or individuals who had left their tribe to make their own way.

Such scenes were common in Pentos, a massive city-state that attracted people from all walks of life, regions, and even races.

In the midst of this, a small incident occurred.

A wine merchant pulling a cart of wine barrels saw the three-headed dragon flag and shouted the name of House Targaryen, blocking the path of the troops.

The merchant claimed to be from the Riverlands, spoke fluent Common Tongue of Westeros, and even had a hint of a King's Landing accent.

He stopped the cavalry, claiming loyalty to the true king, and that the people of Westeros eagerly awaited Viserys to lead an army across the Narrow Sea, overthrow the usurper's rule, and then offered to toast Viserys with a glass of wine.

However, Viserys sat calmly on his horse, holding the reins and watching the 'wine merchant' below him.

As he stared at the deep red wine the man was holding, his expression remained unchanged. He then nodded to the soldiers beside him.

"Make him drink this wine."

Viserys spoke calmly.

The surrounding soldiers, who were like hungry wolves, pounced upon hearing his order. The 'wine merchant,' realizing the danger, quickly drew a dagger from his waist, trying to fight his way out.

However, Viserys' guards were elite soldiers selected through rigorous trials. One of them stabbed the 'merchant' in the thigh, causing him to cry out in pain.

They quickly grabbed the man's wrist and disarmed him. Two soldiers held his shoulders and wrists while another broke his kneecap with a brutal kick.

Crack—

The 'wine merchant' screamed in pain, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

Another soldier approached and grabbed the man's chin, forcing his mouth open, and held the wine he had intended to serve Viserys.

"Your Grace?"

The guard turned to Viserys for instruction.

Viserys glanced at Illyrio, who had also come down from his carriage. The sudden turn of events had caught Illyrio off guard, and his forehead was dripping with cold sweat, fearing that Viserys might misunderstand.

"This has nothing to do with me, Your Grace."

Feeling Viserys' gaze, the plump man quickly nodded.

"It is a despicable act. Do as you please."

Viserys nodded slightly.

"Your Grace, shall we interrogate him first?"

Lurking beneath his hood, Ramsay suddenly asked, his eyes gleaming with cruelty.

Not only had Viserys noticed the attempt, but Ramsay had also quietly warned him earlier.

Such a crude assassination attempt might fool an inexperienced girl, but deceiving Viserys and Ramsay was near impossible.

"No need."

Viserys shook his head slightly, then looked around at the people of Pentos who had gathered to watch the commotion.

It seemed that the love of watching a spectacle was universal.

"The news will spread quickly, and we won't learn anything from interrogating him. The perpetrator has already fled."

"Right, as you say."

Ramsay listened to Viserys and nodded.

Once again, he hid his face beneath his hood and sneered at the 'wine merchant' before walking away.

Viserys nodded to the soldiers who had captured the assassin and continued on his way without looking back.

In the face of the terrified man, the poisoned wine was forcibly poured down his throat.

Not long after, the man who claimed to be from the Riverlands turned as red as blood, writhing on the ground.

He desperately clawed at his own throat until it was bloody and raw, and then his legs gave one final kick before he went completely still.

Seeing the man's reaction after drinking the wine, the crowd erupted in shock.

Among these people, however, was a plain-looking, balding man who had witnessed the entire scene.

He raised his head, his eyes filled with mixed emotions as he watched Viserys' retreating figure.

Chapter 195: The Unsullied

The matter of the wine merchant was but a minor incident as Viserys entered the city of Pentos.

By the time Viserys and his entourage arrived at Illyrio's courtyard, Ramsay, the 'Little Flayer,' who had been following them, had somehow vanished.

He disappeared into the vast city teeming with people, like a drop of water merging seamlessly with the sea.

Of course, Illyrio didn't notice that Viserys' group was missing a few people, and he warmly welcomed Viserys into his mansion.

Viserys dismounted, then handed the reins to a soldier wearing light armor, with a short sword at his waist and a spiked helm on his head.

The soldier's movements were swift and efficient, his eyes devoid of any other colors, like an emotionless precision machine.

"Hmm?"

Viserys curiously examined the soldier for a few moments, not recalling having seen this type of soldier during his last visit to Illyrio's courtyard.

It seemed...

Viserys felt a sense of familiarity, almost ready to blurt it out.

"Unsullied."

The rotund merchant and Magister, Illyrio, wheezed as he descended from his carriage. Upon seeing Viserys' gaze linger on his soldier, he proceeded to explain.

"Is this your first time seeing them?"

"Though, it's not surprising. These 'swordless' fellows come from Astapor, which is quite a distance from Andalos."

Illyrio laughed heartily.

"So, they are the Unsullied."

Viserys' eyes revealed a hint of astonishment, as he had just thought of it but was unsure whether to confirm it.

The Unsullied were a renowned army on the continent of Essos, having created countless miracles in the history of warfare. Though they might not have seen them, almost everyone knew the Unsullied were the finest soldiers.

These slave warriors underwent brutal elimination since childhood, with only one in three able to survive years of dehumanizing training.

Ultimately, they became true Unsullied, completely discarding human emotions and transforming into pure killing machines.

They would unconditionally obey their master's commands, even if ordered to cut off a hand on the spot or slit their own throats without hesitation.

The only drawback to these Unsullied warriors was their high cost.

However, the steep price wasn't the fault of the Unsullied, but rather that the wealthy merchants who desired to purchase them for protection couldn't afford them.

Viserys glanced at the soldier's retreating figure once more.

The Unsullied led his warhorse to the designated area outside the courtyard, meticulously tying it up, seemingly oblivious to Illyrio's words.

Only then did Viserys avert his gaze.

"Very impressive."

"Unsullied, truly living up to their great reputation."

Viserys looked somewhat envious of these elite soldiers, knowing that regular training could hardly achieve such results.

Illyrio, still chuckling heartily, his yellow beard quivering with a hint of pride, knew that having Unsullied warriors guarding his estate was practically the highest level of defense.

Days before, a Pentoshi Magister had been murdered at his estate outside the city. The guards he had with him didn't even realize their master had been tortured to death.

When these slave guards finally discovered what had happened, they chose not to inform anyone, but instead scattered and fled.

This Magister had a family, and if they found out that their negligence had led to his death, they wouldn't be spared either. So, the slaves scattered, trying to escape.

However, within two days, all the slaves were captured and buried alive as a funeral offering for the murdered Magister.

As a result, every Magister and wealthy merchant in Pentos felt unsafe.

Illyrio had purchased a hundred Unsullied to strengthen the security of his courtyard, to prevent a similar tragedy. Upon returning to Pentos, he sold some at a higher price to other Magisters.

Astapor's rules dictated that Unsullied could only be purchased in units of one hundred or one thousand, as they needed a commander's staff to give orders. The Unsullied, trained to obey the staff and not the person, would even kill their own master without hesitation if commanded by the staff.

"If you're interested, I'll give you two when you leave Pentos."

Illyrio casually offered two Unsullied to Viserys. Although the Unsullied were expensive, he could afford to give away two.

"No need," Viserys replied, shaking his head slightly.

Two Unsullied wouldn't be of much use, even less than two battle-hardened mercenaries. Otherwise, they wouldn't have suffered so many casualties against the Sons of the Harpy.

But fighting individually was not the correct way to utilize the Unsullied. They truly showed their strength when formed into an army.

They were fearless, maintaining formation even in the face of terrible circumstances, and even when only one soldier remained, they would courageously raise their spears and charge at the enemy.

That was their most fearsome quality.

"Please."

"Please."

Viserys and Illyrio then entered the reception room.

A golden-haired young maidservant poured tea and stole a glance at Viserys, her cheeks flushing before she hurried away.

Viserys was accustomed to such situations, looking at the shy girl's retreating figure before turning his gaze back to the wealthy Magister and speaking.

"Lord Illyrio, what did you mean by what you said at the city gate earlier?"

Viserys didn't engage in small talk with Illyrio but got straight to the point.

Illyrio, realizing that Viserys didn't want to beat around the bush, nodded and went straight to the heart of the matter, his greasy, fat cheeks becoming increasingly serious.

"Well... perhaps you don't know."

"Your Grace."

Illyrio's voice was hoarse, his small eyes filled with solemnity, and he even unconsciously lowered his tone as he spoke.

"Some of the Magisters of Pentos now harbor ill intentions towards you."

To Viserys' surprise, Illyrio openly admitted this.

"Hmm?"

Viserys raised his eyebrows slightly.

He hadn't expected this. He had thought that Illyrio would feign ignorance.

After all, no matter how close he was to the Targaryens, Illyrio was still a Magister of Pentos, and this concerned his fundamental interests.

Could Illyrio actually be selling out his fellow Magisters so easily?

Viserys' curiosity was piqued, and he decided to press further.

"Lord Illyrio, why are you telling me this? Aren't you worried about the consequences?"

Illyrio looked at Viserys, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"Your Grace, you must understand that not all of the Magisters in Pentos share these malicious intentions. I, for one, am loyal to you and your family. My ultimate goal is to see the Targaryens restored to their rightful place on the Iron Throne."

Viserys listened intently, weighing Illyrio's words.

Illyrio continued, "The situation in Pentos is more complicated than you may realize. Some Magisters and merchants seek to maintain the status quo, fearing that your return to power will disrupt their businesses and influence. Others, like myself, believe that only under the Targaryens' rule can true peace and prosperity be restored to the Seven Kingdoms."

Viserys nodded slowly, taking in the information.

"I appreciate your honesty, Lord Illyrio. I trust that you will continue to provide me with valuable insights into the political climate in Pentos."

Illyrio bowed his head respectfully.

"Of course, Your Grace. I am at your service."

And with that, Viserys knew that he had a powerful ally in Illyrio, one who could help him navigate the treacherous waters of Pentoshi politics as he sought to reclaim his birthright.

Chapter 196: Hidden Agendas

Subsequently, Illyrio did not conceal anything, claiming to have told Viserys everything he knew. Viserys had no way of discerning the truth in his words.

However.

Indeed, there was much information that wasn't explicitly stated in Ramsay's intelligence report.

After all, no matter how capable Ramsay was, he was not as terrifying as an insider who was directly in the Magister's seat.

" Andalos' growth has been too rapid, and most importantly, the dragons. No one can ignore their existence," Illyrio said with a sigh.

"If they could, many people would be willing to spend their entire fortune for a dragon."

When Andalos first rose to prominence, it did not attract much attention from Pentos. Such small forces were as numerous as the hairs on a bull. However, their attitude slowly began to change over time.

But at that time, Pentos still did not think of eliminating this restless neighbor. They were using Andalos as a buffer between them and Braavos.

But who would have thought that the buffer would eventually grow into a blossoming center?

But all of this was not the overwhelming factor that led most of the Magisters of Pentos to lean toward the Iron Throne.

In the end, it was still the dragons.

The dragons were like a massive bait that stimulated the desire of the Magisters of Pentos, especially the young ones that hadn't grown up yet.

'No one would ignore dragons.'

'Unless they were blind.'

All of these Magisters of Pentos were ambitious and ruthless, having started in business.

From the moment the news of the dragons' birth was spread, they wanted them.

Especially since they were so close to the dragons, they could even smell the pungent sulfur scent in their breath.

Some wanted the dragons for themselves, while others wanted them for self-preservation.

The existence of dragons meant expansion, and it was almost a consensus among everyone that Pentos would be Daenerys' next target. It was just a matter of sooner or later.

Thus, combining the two, there were those who wanted the dragons and those who wanted to protect themselves. They formed the largest radical faction among the Magisters of Pentos.

Those who remained calm under the lobbying of the Iron Throne's envoys became the minority.

Illyrio Mopatis was one of them.

During this time, the covert battles surrounding this matter played out daily within the city of Pentos. It was challenging for the dozen or so Magisters with their hidden agendas to agree on a unified opinion.

Viserys arrived under these circumstances.

"Did this really happen?"

Viserys nodded.

Although he had already known the truth, he still pretended to hear the news for the first time at this moment. His handsome face showed a mix of anger and fear.

This matched the attitude a normal person should display at this time.

Especially for someone his age, only fifteen or sixteen, it made his performance even more seamless.

When someone encounters betrayal in a foreign land, what should they do?

Naturally, they would seek help from someone they trust. Viserys appeared to be trying to maintain his composure, making his act even more convincing.

"Lord Illyrio, what should we do next?"

The wealthy Magister also seemed somewhat worried, finally shaking his head with a sigh and looking quite troubled.

"Actually, Your Grace,"

"I have always been fascinated by the Targaryens. I once..."

Afterward, Illyrio shared stories from his youth and subtly expressed his ambitions.

He laid his cards on the table for Viserys, hoping to help Viserys claim the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms in the future. In return, he wanted a castle, a Lorddom, and the position of finance council member in the new dynasty.

Viserys merely squinted at Illyrio's sudden revelation, pinching his fingers together. He neither agreed hastily nor immediately opposed the idea.

For now, it was merely a promissory note.

Viserys heard another issue that he hadn't considered before.

"A Serra from Lys?" Viserys asked.

"Magister, was your second wife a Valyrian?"

Illyrio had mentioned during his reminiscence that his relationship with the previous Prince of Pentos was strained, possibly because he had married the prince's cousin. After his first wife passed away, he married a prostitute named Serra, angering the prince at the time.

The girl from Lys had silver-gold hair.

"That's correct," Illyrio acknowledged, unsure why Viserys asked such a question. "Serra did indeed have some Valyrian blood."

"However, there are still many people with Valyrian blood in places like Lys and Volantis."

"Is that so?" Viserys responded, relieved. "I thought your wife might be a descendant of the Blackfyres."

At Viserys's casual comment, Illyrio's expression changed slightly. But before he could say anything, Viserys continued.

"Regardless, it doesn't matter. Red dragons and black dragons are both dragons. The Targaryens have lost the Iron Throne; what's the point in making distinctions now?"

Viserys drank from his cup and shook his head.

Illyrio also sighed in relief. In Targaryen history, there had been several Blackfyre rebellions.

Although essentially family, these illegitimate Blackfyres stubbornly sought legitimacy, and this persisted for generations, resulting in multiple Blackfyre wars.

If Serra were recognized as a Blackfyre descendant by Viserys, their cooperation would end.

However...

Did Viserys no longer care whether she was a red or black dragon?

Illyrio exhaled and chuckled, explaining, "Serra was just an ordinary Valyrian who later died from a plague. She couldn't have been a Blackfyre descendant."

"At the time, she was pregnant with my child... I had every reason to believe it would be a boy."

Reminiscing, Illyrio's face showed a hint of sorrow and grief.

"However, he was never born into this world. The terrible plague took both his and his mother's lives."

Illyrio didn't dwell on his sadness for long. He sighed, regained his spirits, and returned to the matter at hand.

"It may be too late to leave Pentos now, but things haven't reached their worst."

"I will do everything in my power to help Your Grace escape during the festival celebration in three days," Illyrio assured, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye and pounding his chest.

"Then I must entrust this to you, Magister," Viserys said, visibly moved.

He tightly grasped Illyrio's hands.

...

Chapter 197: Surveillance

Viserys had already harbored suspicions about Pentos's intentions before this journey and had obtained accurate intelligence.

However, he was still willing to take this trip personally, as he had his own plans and arrangements.

Of course, he didn't tell the truth to the Pentoshi merchant Magister.

Illyrio's words were also a mix of truth and lies, not revealing everything, only mentioning some insignificant matters. He remained vague on key issues.

Both men were engaged in a battle of wits, still looking sincerely into each other's eyes as they shook hands.

When Viserys left Illyrio's courtyard, the smile on his face had completely disappeared, returning to a calm as still as an ancient well.

"Your Grace."

The hundred knights and over two hundred other attendants he had brought with him, including squires, archers, and others, had been waiting here for quite some time.

Viserys then took the reins of the horse that an Unsullied handed to him, put one foot in the stirrup, swung himself onto the horse, and held the reins with one hand. He took one last look at Illyrio's courtyard before turning his horse around.

"Let's go."

...

Viserys also owned a mansion in the city of Pentos.

This was a gift from all the Magisters during his last visit to Pentos.

The mansion was large, complete with a flowing water garden. Although the rooms were not enough, squeezing tents into the courtyard could comfortably accommodate over two hundred people.

Tap, tap, tap...

The knights bearing the Targaryen banner arrived at Viserys's Pentos residence, brazenly making their presence known.

Seeing the banner with the three-headed dragon, countless spies who had been lurking around the mansion focused their attention on the scene.

"They're here, they're here."

For a moment, the spies were somewhat flustered. They served different masters, some belonging to the Magisters of Pentos, others to well-informed merchants.

There was even a servant dressed in court attire, who made no attempt to disguise his appearance. He clearly served the infamous but powerless Prince of Pentos, and it was unknown what his purpose was in sending someone here.

Many spies had come to observe Viserys, but he seemed to ignore them, sweeping his gaze over them without any concern.

He knew that the Magisters of Pentos still had their reservations and wouldn't dare to send someone to kill him outright. Otherwise, they would have tried to assassinate him on the way to Pentos.

However, these Pentoshi Magisters didn't dare to do so, the reason being the well-organized cavalry unit accompanying Viserys and the support of a legion behind him.

To kill all two hundred of Viserys's men and not leave any survivors to leak any information, sending four hundred men would not be enough.

At least six hundred, or even eight hundred horsemen would be needed.

However, Pentos couldn't possibly keep the large scale of cavalry they sent out a secret from everyone.

Doing so would be equivalent to openly assassinating Viserys, violating the sacred guest right, an unforgivable sin even to the gods, and would also severely damage the reputation of the people of Pentos.

If they were to entrust the Dothraki to do this task, there wouldn't be enough time. There were no khalasars active nearby, and even if there were, they would be intercepted by the Andalos First Legion stationed at Ghoyan Drohe.

Pentos dared not openly attack Viserys directly.

Therefore, Viserys boldly entered the city, making a grand entrance and not caring about the commotion he caused, letting everyone know that he had arrived.

Although he was in constant danger, like the "merchant" who toasted him during the day, Viserys was not panicked but rather unusually calm.

He knew that the more noise he made and the more people knew of his arrival, the more cautious the Magisters of Pentos would be and the less likely they would be to act rashly.

The more obstacles he created for them, the more mistakes they would make. For the Magisters of Pentos, the festival celebration in the Prince's Palace three days later would be their best opportunity.

At that time, Viserys would enter the palace, close the gates, and no one outside would know what was happening inside.

If Viserys "accidentally" died or committed some crime, violating the guest right first and being detained by Pentos would depend entirely on the Magisters' word.

Although no one would believe such a clumsy excuse, at least in theory, it could still hold up.

Seeing Viserys enter the courtyard, the spies watching him began to nervously report to their masters.

A servant who was clearly from the Prince's Palace also boldly boarded the carriage and left the area.

At that moment, Viserys was standing on the highest platform of the mansion, his hand resting on the wooden railing, overlooking the spies who were blatantly watching him.

At this time, he heard footsteps behind him.

A fiery red figure, wrapped in a long robe, appeared behind Viserys.

She looked at Viserys' back and then spoke softly.

"The task you entrusted has begun."

Viserys, with his hand on the railing, gazed into the distance with his pale purple eyes as the setting sun cast red hues across the sky. The cold wind blew, lifting the silver-gold strands of hair on his forehead.

The heavy snowfall that started last night and continued into the day had stopped long ago. In the afternoon, the clouds dispersed and the sun shone, warming the newly arrived winter day.

Now, the sun was setting again.

The person standing behind Viserys was the Red Priestess Melisandre. She had left Andalos at some point and arrived in Pentos.

However, she did not travel with Viserys but used other means to quietly arrive in the city-state while secretly accomplishing the tasks Viserys had given her.

"Yes."

"Well done, Melisandre."

Viserys slightly turned his head to glance at the thinly dressed Red Witch.

It seemed as if she truly had the blessing of R'hllor and could not feel the cold. Viserys wore a leather cuirass, a coat, and animal pelts for warmth, yet the woman still wore only a red gown.

"I saw the guidance of the Lord of Light in the flames."

Melisandre stepped forward to stand beside Viserys, shoulder to shoulder, as they both gazed into the distance.

As they looked at the distant red clouds, the faint scent of the woman's perfume entered Viserys' senses.

Melisandre's beautiful eyes then shifted to Viserys.

"Pentos will surely belong to the true king."

Chapter 198: Inspection

The next day.

Outside the city of Pentos.

Several men dressed as hunters, with bows and arrows on their backs, were talking to the guards outside the city gate.

The reason was still the unfortunate Magister who died not long ago. Pentos was still strictly scrutinizing mercenaries, trade caravan guards, and hunters who tried to enter the city with weapons and armor.

However, Viserys and his guards, who entered the city yesterday, did not receive such treatment.

"My lord, we are all hunters from the nearby villages."

One of the men, a thin figure with a headscarf, patted the dead stag on the back of his horse and tried to speak nicely to the guards.

The stag seemed to have been dead for a while, its blood drained. The hunters wanted to sell it in the market of Pentos and exchange it for some food to take home.

The guards of Pentos, however, impatiently waved their hands.

"Get lost, get lost!"

"We've told you several times, people can go in, but throw away all the weapons you have."

But the hunters still clung to the guards, unwilling to give up their weapons.

After all, these were their tools for making a living, and the surroundings of Pentos were not peaceful.

Pentos had no power to deal with bandits and outlaws beyond its borders. Its soldiers were few and poorly trained, so they relied on mercenaries or large trade caravans to deal with them. Smaller caravans and ordinary farmers and hunters had to fend for themselves.

In such chaotic times, farmers and hunters would carry a dagger or a short sword when going far away from home, just in case they encountered bandits, so they could at least put up a fight.

At least they could die bravely.

Therefore, the hunters were unwilling to give up their weapons, stubbornly sticking to the guards and refusing to leave.

Just then.

Rumble, rumble—

A long caravan approached the city gate of Pentos from afar, the wheels crushing the thin layer of snow on the ground, making a noise.

It seemed another large-scale trade caravan had arrived.

Seeing the arrival of the caravan, the eyes of the guards at the city gate of Pentos lit up, knowing that another opportunity to make money had come.

"Quick, quick, quick!"

"Gather around, let's give them a good inspection."

Yesterday, after receiving Viserys, the portly city gate warden straightened the crooked helmet on his head and called his brothers over to "catch fish."

Usually, trade caravans took the nearby port route, rarely entering from the direction of the north city gate.

And without trade caravans coming from the north gate, the "tolls" were naturally much less.

They had spent so much money on bribes to get their jobs in the guard, naturally to make a fortune. Ordinary families might not even have this much savings in several years, or even decades.

However, after joining the guard, following their boss, enjoying the life of eating, drinking, and gambling, and collecting tolls for a year—minus what they had to give to the commander—dividing the rest among their brothers...

In at most two years, the heavy bribes spent by their families would have been fully recovered, and the rest would be pure profit.

In Pentos, some small trade caravans or middle-class families lined up with large amounts of gold coins, trying their best to send their incompetent children to work in the guard.

It was both safe and profitable, so who wouldn't want to come?

Hearing the conversation of these city gate guards, the hunters who had just been clinging to them exchanged glances, seeing the tension in each other's eyes.

Then the tall, thin hunter carrying the stag on his horse glanced at the mercenaries who were also being stopped outside the city gate not far away.

The eyes of both parties seemed to share an unspoken understanding, and they nodded to each other.

...

Rumble, rumble—

The wheels of the carriage made a continuous rumble, and the long convoy finally arrived at the city gate of Pentos.

"Halt!"

"Where did your merchant caravan come from?"

The guard at the city gate adjusted his helmet, which was almost too small for him, and then strutted over, his round belly leading the way.

Over a hundred city guards at the gate were also drawn to the scene.

The leader of the caravan was an elderly man with gray hair, appearing to be around sixty years old and dressed quite plainly.

He rode a tall gray warhorse, whose fur was matted and dirty, as if it hadn't been bathed in a long time.

"This is my hometown, my lord..."

The old man's voice was low as he sat on the dirty horse, speaking in impeccably standard Valyrian.

He gazed at the prosperous city-state beyond the gate, his eyes filled with deep nostalgia.

He had left this place half his life ago and only dared to return today in disguise.

"Don't give me that nonsense. I'm asking you where your caravan is from!"

The portly city gate guard naturally understood Valyrian, but his attitude was far from the fearful demeanor he had shown yesterday when facing Viserys. Instead, he was extremely impatient.

"I come from Tyrosh, my lord."

The old man on the gray horse didn't seem angered, only giving the guard a deep look.

He then dismounted and spoke.

"I rented a merchant ship from Tyrosh to sell goods in Braavos, then purchased some goods from Braavos to bring to Pentos."

"Pentos is so lovely that I don't plan on leaving this time."

The old man's voice was full of vigor; despite his age, he still maintained a lively spirit, his eyes sharp.

The leader of the Pentoshi city guards couldn't help but shrink his neck, and his impatient attitude became somewhat restrained.

"Braavos."

Pentoshi people held deep hostility towards Braavos, and the guard snorted, intentionally drawing out the word.

"What kind of goods are you all selling? Are there any prohibited items?"

"If there are, bring them out now. If I find them myself...hmmph..."

The portly guard deliberately drew out his words, sounding like a grunting pig.

His tone carried both a threat and a hint.

He then lifted a hand and pulled back the tattered cloth covering the carriage, revealing various spices and even several large crates.

"Hm? What's this?"

The fat officer's eyes were immediately drawn to the neatly arranged large crates.

According to his years of experience, these black, inconspicuous crates at the bottom usually hid contraband.

"Our main trade is in spices, my lord."

"As for those black crates, they contain walrus ivory from Lorath, which we also purchased."

The gray-haired old man appeared calm and collected, speaking evenly.

Braavos collected goods from all over the world, and the prices of spices were slightly lower than in Pentos. Therefore, transporting spices from Braavos to Pentos was a common trade route, with the opportunity to sell some goods in Andalos along the way.

The old man then opened one of the black crates, revealing the valuable walrus ivory from Lorath inside.

This expensive commodity might be desired by some wealthy merchants or nobles for their collections.

At this moment.

"My lord, what is this?"

A Pentoshi guard seemed to have discovered something unusual and called out loudly. .

Chapter 199: Infiltration

The guard who had walked to the back of the caravan suddenly shouted, instantly attracting the attention of many people outside the city gate.

"What's going on?"

There were many people coming in and out of the city gate. The mercenaries and the hunters on the other side seemed a bit tense, exchanging glances with each other once again.

Immediately after that, a tall, fat mercenary from the other group stood up. He was bare-chested like a mountain, covered in tattoos, with thick layers of fat on his belly and chest, and sturdy arms and legs, wielding a massive hammer in his hand.

He stood up and shouted loudly, seemingly agitated, and even had a scuffle with the city guard.

"Hey, kid!"

"Why won't you let us into the city?"

The other guards, seeing a bigger commotion here, were drawn over.

"What's going on?!"

"Put down your weapons!"

These days, Pentos had been strictly checking people entering the city with weapons and armor. However, with the massive daily influx of people into the gigantic city-state like Pentos, they couldn't identify everyone, especially those who were coming for the first time and had no employment in the city.

As a result, such disputes and conflicts occurred almost every day, and the guards had long grown used to it.

Although they might not necessarily be able to defeat these mercenaries on their own, the guards had the backing of the city-state and the Magisters, so they confidently surrounded the group.

"What's happening?"

The walls of Pentos were enormous, and its city gate was naturally very large.

The fat officer, on the other side of the gate, saw some kind of commotion happening and furrowed his brow.

Meanwhile, the hunters who were about to enter the city saw the conflict and decided to take advantage of the situation, trying to sneak into the city with their horses and game.

But just as they were about to slip in, a sharp-eyed guard spotted them and yelled.

"Hey! Stop!"

"You damned vermin, who said you could enter the city?"

Not only were there mercenaries and hunters outside the city gate of Pentos, but there were also merchant caravans.

The city-state had a large population, with people coming and going, and the city gate was often overcrowded.

With sudden commotions happening in several places, the city gate area became chaotic, and many others outside the city tried to sneak in without being inspected.

Seeing that they had been discovered, the hunters exchanged glances but did not stop. Instead, they hastened their pace, leading their horses into the crowd.

"Go!"

"Quickly!"

Under the tacit cooperation of mercenaries and hunters, as well as the instigation of others who may or may not have been connected to them, the area outside the city gate of Pentos quickly turned into chaos.

"Catch those people!" the fat officer roared, furious at the sight.

The gray-haired elder watched the farce unfold before him, then gave a cold, derisive laugh.

Then the shrewd man stealthily took out a heavy pouch from his clothes and handed it to the other party.

"Your effort is appreciated, my lord."

"We are all in this together to make a profit."

The gray-haired elder, who seemed to be the leader of the merchant caravan, made no attempt to conceal that there were indeed some prohibited items on his convoy, items forbidden by the laws of Pentos.

He brazenly bribed the other party with a heavy bag of gold coins, being straightforward rather than subtly evasive. He was used to dealing with such people, and sometimes a direct approach was more effective than beating around the bush.

The gatekeeper's face darkened, his mood terrible. While taking the money was one thing, he couldn't afford any chaos at the city gate.

At the moment, he had no time to thoroughly inspect the merchant convoy to see what they were carrying and then threaten them for more money.

Seeing the old man take out a purse so shrewdly, he didn't make things more difficult.

In truth, no merchant convoy could withstand close scrutiny. He could find problems with any of them, as long as they obediently paid up.

He would turn a blind eye as long as they weren't blatantly transporting carts full of armor and weapons.

"Very well."

"Let's all make a fortune together."

The plump officer took the purse, weighed it in his hand, and pocketed it.

He then waved for his comrades to stop the inspection and maintain order at the city gate. If a riot were to break out, his time as a gatekeeper would be over.

Some of the guards chased after those who had snuck into the city, including a few unruly mercenaries and the cunning hunters.

Gurgle...

Following this, the long convoy passed through the city gate without any trouble, entering Pentos.

...

"That was close but no harm done," said an ugly blonde woman in the convoy, speaking to someone next to her.

She was a tall and burly woman, standing at six feet tall, even taller than most men. Her long blonde hair, torn nose, missing ears, and cross-shaped scars on her cheeks were quite intimidating.

"Just now, a boy was staring at me non-stop. I suspect he has fallen in love with me, hehe—"

The woman's laughter was hoarse and low, her words even more chilling.

"I almost couldn't help but gouge his eyes out."

Beside her stood a man with blue eyes and flaxen white hair, his face bearing a forced smile. He was shorter than the blonde woman.

Hearing her words, he looked her up and down, then burst into laughter.

"'Beauty,' was it you who fell for him, or him who fell for you?"

'Beauty' was the blonde woman's nickname; her real name was Meris. But in their group, anyone's name could be changed at will.

Codenames might be real, but names were likely fake.

The young man was called 'Straw' Dick. His words were not solely meant to insult the woman.

When he first joined the group, he had been forced by 'Beauty' Meris to have several intimate encounters with her in a warehouse.

But later, it seemed he accepted her. Sometimes they would even arrange to meet, as a mercenary never knew when death might come, so they should enjoy life while they could.

At the front of the convoy, the gray-haired elder and a fierce-looking man riding beside him remained silent.

The man seemed to be a Dothraki, his face scarred from swords, his upper body bare and muscular, with tattoos covering his skin. A jet-black arakh curved blade hung from his waist.

His name was Kago, indeed a Dothraki who had left his tribe. He was once a slave but killed his master and joined the mercenary group.

Now, he had become the captain of this mercenary band, serving as the right-hand man to the gray-haired elder.

At present, Kago heard the idle chatter of his comrades, glanced at them, and then refocused his attention before speaking in a low voice.

"Boss."

"Has Denzo successfully infiltrated?"

Chapter 200: The Windblown

Denzo D'han, nicknamed the 'Warrior Poet,' was another captain of this mercenary company and also served as the left hand and right arm of the gray-haired elder.

This time, the mercenaries infiltrated Pentos in batches and through various channels, all to execute their grand plan.

If this plan succeeded, they would transform themselves from insignificant mercenaries to people of wealth and power, enjoying luxury and riches.

Perhaps even... becoming the masters of Pentos.

"Danzo's side doesn't need our concern."

"He knows his limits."

The gray-haired elder remained calm, sitting atop his horse with an unchanging expression.

However, his heart was pounding with apprehension.

This was a risky decision, but the potential rewards were astonishing; risks and opportunities coexisted.

He hid his true identity and never mentioned his real name to others. People only knew that thirty years ago, he was a candidate for the next Prince of Pentos, but he rejected the Magister's appointment and fled his homeland.

Since then, he had wandered among various mercenary companies, joining the Second Sons, the Iron Shields, and the Maiden's Men. Eventually, he left those companies and, with five companions, established his own mercenary company.

Ultimately, they became the famous Windblown in the disputed lands.

He was the only one of the six founders of the Windblown who was still alive, and now served as the company's leader.

Thirty years had passed, and no one knew his name, referring to him only as the 'Ragged Prince' or the 'Ragged King.'

His signature attire was a multicolored cloak made from the clothes of enemies he had personally killed.

And he claimed that once he took off the 'ragged clothes,' he would become the most inconspicuous person in the crowd.

"Is that so?"

Hearing the Ragged Prince's trust in Denzo D'han, the Dothraki man furrowed his brow slightly but said nothing more.

Kago, the leader of the brothers, was more ferocious and skilled in battle, while Danzo, the other captain, focused more on wisdom and maturity.

Although they were both the left and right arms of the Ragged Prince, he trusted Danzo more in some matters, allowing him to handle them alone instead of Kago.

"Is this plan reliable?"

"Boss."

The Dothraki man with the scarred cheeks rode alongside the Ragged Prince on his warhorse and then turned his head to ask.

"Of course, I trust the strength of our brothers in the company, but we don't know about that one..."

Kago feared being betrayed or the other party not keeping their agreement.

He wanted to use some derogatory words, like "little devil."

However, when he first faced the young man, he couldn't help but avoid eye contact, only daring to look down at his own toes.

"Kago, what kind of person do you think he is?"

The Ragged Prince naturally knew what his subordinate wanted to say. The streets were bustling with people, and the gray hair was blown by the wind. The elder then turned his head to look at Kago and asked.

Kago, atop his horse, pondered the question for a moment, recalling Viserys boarding their ship.

The young king wore a white fox fur cloak, his eyes bright as stars, his posture upright, with a sword hanging from his waist. He behaved gracefully without being bound by trivial formalities. With only one attendant, he dared to board their ship, showing no fear.

His presence alone suppressed everyone else in the room.

The Ragged Prince, leader of the Windblown, sat across from him, while Kago, Denzo D'han, and the torturer 'Beauty' Meris all stood behind their leader.

After recalling the young king's demeanor, Kago replied, "He... he seems to be a person of extraordinary bearing and strength."

The Ragged Prince listened to Kago's words, his eyes revealing a glimmer of contemplation. Then, he spoke, "He is indeed someone extraordinary. This time, our plan hinges on his cooperation. As long as he keeps his end of the bargain, we have a chance of success."

The Dothraki man, Kago, nodded silently in agreement, understanding that they could only hope that the young king would uphold his promises.

The Ragged Prince and Kago continued to ride through the streets of Pentos, with the bustling crowd around them completely unaware of the grand plan these mercenaries were about to execute. The fate of Pentos hung in the balance, waiting for the decisive moment when the Windblown would make their move.

As the wind blew through the city, the gray-haired elder's cloak fluttered, a symbol of the storm to come.

However, these ruthless mercenaries found themselves surprisingly restrained in the presence of the noble young man.

'Beauty' Meris even blushed, unsure where to place her hands and feet. Only their leader, the Ragged Prince, managed to maintain composure and act with propriety.

After all, the Ragged Prince was different from the common folk they usually dealt with.

He had once been an heir to one of the forty noble families of Pentos and had received a proper education since childhood.

When facing Viserys, the Ragged Prince's aura was indeed suppressed, involuntarily lowering his head upon their first meeting.

But he managed to regain his footing in their subsequent interactions.

The meeting on the ship ultimately ended on a pleasant note.

The Ragged Prince, not burdened by any psychological barrier despite his age, prostrated himself on the ground and swore allegiance to Viserys, who was nearly forty years younger than him.

Viserys then drew the sword he wore at his waist, the sword of twilight, and laid it on the shoulder of the prostrate old man.

The crimson blade emanated a faint glow, reminiscent of the blood of a setting sun, causing the Ragged Prince to shiver involuntarily.

Viserys subsequently accepted the Ragged Prince's allegiance.

"He..."

Recalling the dazzling young king, Kago seemed at a loss for words to describe him.

The gap between their statuses and levels was too vast, placing them on entirely different planes.

...

Two days later.

Year 291 after Aegon's Conquest arrived.

Snowflakes fluttered down from the sky once again. Two heavy snowfalls within five days undoubtedly signified that this winter might be unusual.

Pentos' traditional festival celebrations officially began.

The night had not yet fallen, but the streets were already festooned with lanterns and streamers, adorned with celebratory banners everywhere.

Pentos was a multi-ethnic and multi-religious city-state, with each ethnicity and faith having different holidays.

However, the arrival of a new year was a grand celebration in which everyone in Pentos participated.

On this day, merchants offered wealth to the Night Lion, praying for even greater gains in the coming year.

Old women placed statues of the Weeping Lady in their homes.

The Hooded Wayfarer was worshipped by the poor, Bakkalon was the god of soldiers, and even the Dothraki commemorated their horse god.

More widespread were the followers of R'hllor, who lit bonfires before sunset, praying for R'hllor to bring the sun in the new year and dispel the cold and darkness.

The faith of the Seven, widespread in Westeros and Andalos, was only a secondary religion in Pentos, while the Lorathi belief in natural spirits was even rarer.

On New Year's Day, the Prince of Pentos had to personally deflower a virgin as an offering to the land and the sea.

Clang—

The piercing sound traveled far, with drums and gongs scattering the crowd on the streets.

Pentos' guards, clad in ceremonial armor and bearing magnificent regalia, protected the titular ruler of Pentos, the Prince of Pentos, as he traversed the streets.

The Prince of Pentos rode in a glittering golden palanquin, with three master of ceremonies carrying ritual implements leading the way.

Viserys did not ride a horse today; instead, he shared a palanquin with the Prince of Pentos, surveying the prosperous city-state.

Night fell.

Pentos was engulfed in a sea of joy, and the people cheered the Prince of Pentos' procession.

Some bold girls even stood on the second floor, lifting their skirts, and showered flowers from above.

However, there were also some farcical scenes. Someone in the crowd suddenly let out a bizarre scream, followed by various profanities and vulgarities directed at the magisters.

After all, these wealthy magisters monopolized one or even several industries, manipulated prices, and exploited the common people's hard-earned money, so naturally, there were those who harbored resentment.

The guards frantically began to arrest people.

After an unknown amount of time had passed.

The procession finally completed its embarrassing tour around the city and headed straight for the Prince's palace.

Chapter 201: A Long History

"Your Majesty, please."

"Prince, please."

Today, Pentos is still ruled by the same Prince of House Dynilos.

He was once terrified by Drogo's father, Bharbo.

Fortunately, in recent years, Pentos has enjoyed peace and prosperity, and he still remains on his throne of ivory and gold.

Viserys and the Prince of Pentos walked side by side into the palace, while the Magisters following behind had various expressions, looking at Viserys and the Prince's figures with glinting eyes, as if they harbored hidden intentions.

Except for the two guards by Viserys' side, the rest of his soldiers stayed outside the Prince's palace, ready to rush in at any sign of trouble.

Night.

The bright moon in the sky cast a pristine glow, and tonight, Pentos was a city that never sleeps, while the banquet inside the Prince's palace had just begun.

Viserys and Prince Dynilos walked side by side through the long corridor and then entered the round hall.

It was here that the Dothraki Khal, with only a few men, chased the Prince of Pentos off his throne, killed the ceremonial officer representing war in public, and frightened the Magisters of Pentos into silence.

"Your Majesty must have a deep impression of this place."

At this time, a Pentos Magister who appeared to be in his thirties spoke.

He was the youngest of the Magisters, while the others were mostly in their forties, fifties, or even sixties.

The man's face was frivolous, and he wore a colorful ring on his finger, speaking in a faint voice.

When Viserys first visited Pentos, this Magister seemed to have been present.

Then the young Magister seemed to think of something, and raised his eyebrows slightly as he spoke.

"Ah, I apologize; I haven't introduced myself."

"I am from House Scot, which was once a noble family in the Riverlands many years ago."

House Scot was a noble family in the Riverlands a century ago, but for some unknown reason, they left Westeros.

They eventually settled in Pentos, becoming a prominent and wealthy family there.

The family owned vast assets, including three trade associations and countless shops, almost monopolizing an industry. That was how this young Scot became one of the Magisters.

"Oh?"

"It's an honor to meet you, Magister."

When Magister Scot saw the young Targaryen king's face only reveal a slight smile, showing no nervousness or uneasiness, he felt a surge of displeasure.

He had studied his family's history, and the Scot family's forced departure from their homeland to Pentos was not unrelated to the king at the time.

Although House Scot was very small back then, receiving only minor repercussions, it was enough to cause them significant damage, ultimately leading them to flee Westeros.

Now, as fate would have it, the Targaryens were also forced to flee Westeros, even losing the Iron Throne.

"Hmph—"

Magister Scot snorted coldly, feeling somewhat displeased but not mentioning his family's past, only speaking with a faint tone.

"Since the Valyrians established this city as a trade outpost, Pentos has stood on this land for nearly a thousand years."

"Over these thousand years, from kings and Lords to ordinary soldiers, slaves..."

"Even dragons."

Pentos has a long history.

"Countless people have come here, countless people have ruled this land, yet they have turned into dust, while Pentos still stands here."

Two years ago.

.

A powerful Khalasar of Dothraki arrived at the shores of Pentos.

The aging Khal knew his days were numbered and hoped to establish prestige for his son with this opportunity.

However, he failed.

He terrified the Prince of Pentos, who was outwardly fierce but inwardly weak, and ultimately died at the hands of a common man.

The Magister's voice was cold.

But Viserys could hear the threat in his words.

Anyone could briefly ride atop the head of Pentos, but in the end, the city would still stand, always with the last laugh.

Viserys also turned his gaze to the young Magister, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

From his words, the death of Khal Bharbo two years ago seemed to have a connection with Pentos.

Or perhaps this was all a scheme of Pentos.

They effortlessly caused a powerful Dothraki Khal to crumble, dividing the Khalasar into several smaller ones, each led by a different Khal.

Maybe the initial Khal Bharbo had posed a great threat to Pentos.

Or for some other reason, Viserys was not aware of the inside story.

However, the ultimate result was the death of Khal Bharbo and the dissolution of his Khalasar.

"You are not wrong,"

"No one can rule Pentos forever."

Viserys nodded, seemingly agreeing with the other's words, and then spoke calmly. But his words left the other speechless, with a slightly gloomy expression.

As he had said, no one can rule Pentos forever...

Then, who was ruling Pentos now?

"Hmph."

The young Magister snorted coldly with a dark expression, then said nothing more and returned to his seat.

"Your Majesty, please take your seat."

At this moment, another older Magister sitting at his own seat spoke.

He was Magister Kepell of the Geyen family, an elderly man with white hair, wearing a blue velvet robe with golden threads outlining the edges.

His attitude towards Viserys seemed to be the friendliest on the surface.

When Viserys first arrived in Pentos two years ago, besides Illyrio, he spoke the most with him.

Viserys nodded slightly, then ascended the steps and took his seat.

His position was close to the Prince of Pentos. The entire round hall, starting from the Prince's throne, was shaped like a circle, with steps below.

The Prince was the figurehead of Pentos, and the Magisters, as the actual rulers, had seats no less prestigious than the Prince's, which was evident here.

Before the feast began, the hall was filled with noisy chatter and whispers, while attendants bustled about serving appetizers and fruit plates.

"House Horl, Magister Voght!"

The herald's voice mixed with the chaotic noise, announcing the arrival of another Magister, a man in his fifties, strong and clad in military attire, who then took his seat.

Viserys looked at this Magister a few more times because he had not seen him two years ago.

The Magisters of Pentos did not attend every meeting.

The last time Viserys visited Pentos, this Magister Horl had not attended, but this time, it seemed all the Magisters were present.

Chapter 202: Cooperation

The man's footsteps were heavy, his eyes sharp. As he sat down, his gaze was fixed unabashedly on Viserys.

Viserys stared back at him, only for the man to snort and look away.

"He's one of the Magisters who harbor hostility towards you," whispered Illyrio, who had appeared behind Viserys after not accompanying the prince on his city tour.

Viserys nodded slightly.

"I can see that."

This included the Magister named Scott who had first struck up a conversation with him, clearly holding deep animosity and even undisguised threats in his tone.

When Viserys had last visited Pentos, these Magisters still wore hypocritical smiles. This time, however, their daggers were drawn, and they didn't even bother to pretend anymore.

Viserys remained seated, looking calm with one leg crossed over the other, showing no signs of panic.

Behind him stood two guards, their faces betraying no fear either.

The Magisters of Pentos could hardly conceal their intentions anymore. Even before the banquet had begun, they were already itching for action.

"Balerion," Viserys silently called out in his mind, sensing a subtle response.

Before hatching, Balerion had absorbed some black mist, resulting in golden cracks appearing on his eggshell.

Ever since Balerion's birth, Viserys and the dragon had shared a delicate bond, allowing them to sense each other.

Viserys could feel Balerion's current state, and the dragon seemed to be in a very good mood.

"Heh…"

A muffled growl echoed through the dark forest, casting a massive shadow over the land.

Sleeping animals were startled awake, their ears perking up.

They could sense danger, the smell of sulfur wafting in from afar.

Rustle…

The leaves trembled, and countless small animals began to scatter and flee.

Rabbits leaped away, monkeys swung to distant branches, herds of deer ran towards the horizon. Even a striped tiger ran alongside the deer, but it had no time to consider the prey beside it, only wanting to escape.

What a great forest exodus.

Dragon.

Its arrival brought a devastating ecological crisis to the forest.

All animals were driven to flee towards the horizon. Amidst the chaos, some unfortunate prey were caught and roasted by a burst of dragonfire before being torn apart and swallowed.

"Heh…"

Balerion sensed Viserys's summons.

The scaled, slender neck lifted slightly, and the pair of crimson eyes with golden vertical pupils emitted a dangerous glow.

Whoosh…

The black dragon spread its wings and soared into the sky, the raging wind lifting the wild grass and tree branches below.

A massive shadow was cast, flying towards the distance.

...

"Heh…"

.

Having received Balerion's response, Viserys felt much more at ease.

The Young King had prepared thoroughly for this expedition.

Not only had he made contact with the ragged Prince through Ramsay, but also his Windblown company.

The ragged Prince had a strong attachment to Pentos.

He was willing to lead the Windblown to pledge allegiance to House Targaryen, and his only demand was for Viserys to hand over Pentos to him for governance.

He had made this condition to others before, but no one had ever agreed to the ragged Prince's terms.

Viserys then sent someone to contact him, and the ragged Prince did not hesitate long before deciding to meet Viserys in person.

The Windblown consisted of more than two thousand battle-hardened mercenaries. After taking Pentos with the support of House Targaryen, they could rely on this powerful family.

Otherwise, it would be delusional to think that these two thousand men could take Pentos, and even if they could, without the backing of a powerful force, they would eventually be overthrown by other factions.

The Windblown needed the deterrence of the Young Dragon.

Andalos now had vast territories, a large population, and a large army due to its unique conscription system. It had expanded to nearly twenty thousand troops, ten times the size of the Windblown, and possessed three huge dragons.

Viserys also needed to open the gates of Pentos, and the ragged Prince's unique status provided a good excuse to legitimately control Pentos.

As a former heir to one of the forty families and even considered as a prince candidate, his claim was legally sound.

Once House Targaryen's forces were stationed in this pearl of the bay, they would have access to a massive port with a huge cargo throughput.

The enormous annual trade volume would be enough to serve as the financial engine for the kingdom, and Pentos also had a terrifying population.

Population, economy, culture.

Pentos' geographical location was also crucial, as it had previously stifled the growth of House Targaryen.

Now that the gates were open, the forces under the banner of the three-headed dragon could continue to expand to the east and south.

To the south of Pentos were the vast plains, Na's Star City, Arnon City, the Golden Fields, Chayoen, and others. The military could reach the Demir Sea and point towards Myr and the disputed lands.

The predicament of House Targaryen was suddenly resolved, and from then on, there was nothing to hinder the rise of the dragons.

Thus, Viserys and the ragged Prince conducted a mutually beneficial exchange on the unmarked black ship.

Both sides had urgent needs.

At the same time, Viserys did not fully trust the Windblown mercenaries. He knew their reputation was not very good.

They couldn't compare to the Golden Company, who followed the motto "Our word is as good as gold."

Therefore, he did not put all his eggs in one basket. He also brought along Melisandre, the Red Priestess with a lofty status in the religion of R'hllor.

Pentos had a massive number of R'hllor followers who would play a crucial role at a critical moment.

With so many supporters, Viserys' companion, Balerion, naturally followed.

He hid in the woods during the day, sleeping soundly, and concealed himself in the black night sky at night, hovering above Viserys' cavalry troop, unnoticed by anyone.

This was the Young King's last resort.

As Viserys told Oberyn, he never joked about his life, only taking action when he had a certain level of confidence in success.

Although this operation also had the potential for failure, Viserys could ensure his own safety.

If things became impossible, Balerion would swoop down from the sky at the last moment to rescue Viserys.

...

"Don't panic even if something happens later," Viserys advised Illyrio.

Illyrio, of course, had no knowledge of Viserys' arrangements.

The rotund Magister sat beside him, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Inside his loose robe, it was apparent he had donned soft armor, and his waist bulged as if carrying weapons.

In his youth, Illyrio had been a skilled mercenary, and even after becoming a merchant and putting on weight, he was still quite capable when it came to fighting.

"Just listen to my arrangements, and I assure you, there will be no danger," Illyrio continued to whisper to Viserys.

Chapter 203: Provocation and Counterattack

"Listen to my arrangements, and I assure you, you'll be safe," the wealthy Magister continued whispering to Viserys.

"Alright," Viserys nodded slightly without saying much.

He did not know what Illyrio's specific arrangements were, but the Magister had not shown any signs of betrayal thus far, so there was still room for cooperation and utilization.

After all, even with Viserys' various measures in place, he was still deep within the heart of Pentos, surrounded by countless soldiers, and danger could strike if he wasn't careful.

Subsequently, the Prince of Pentos, seated on the ivory and gold throne, recited the names of the Magisters aloud.

"Turner, Hall, Scott, Cecil... Mopatis."

The Prince of Pentos read the surnames of the Magisters in turn.

Each Magister whose name was called slightly nodded their head while seated, at least showing respect on the surface.

The Prince of Pentos then expressed gratitude to these Magisters for their tireless efforts for the city-state.

In response, the Magisters stood up, placed their clenched fists over their hearts, and thanked the prince, expressing their loyalty and willingness to work towards the prosperity and strength of Pentos.

The Magisters then sat back down in their original seats.

This was the standard etiquette in Pentos, an ancient city-state with a unique political system.

Although the Prince of Pentos was a puppet, he was still theoretically the elected head of the city-state and deserved respect.

Viserys, however, remained seated in his place next to the prince, leaning back against the soft cushion and tapping the armrest lightly with his fingers, calmly watching the ceremony in the palace hall.

Behind Prince Dynilos, still stood three ritual officers holding their respective ceremonial items: a balance, a whip, and a sword.

As for the prince himself, his demeanor had changed considerably in the past two years. Although he still appeared dull in his daily life, Viserys had seen a different look in his eyes when presiding over holiday celebrations and inspecting the city-state.

Viserys even suddenly wondered if the prince who had been scared to the point of wetting himself on the throne back then had been faking it.

There had been no better reason to leave that hot seat at the time.

Upon careful thought, Viserys realized that actively standing up as a fleeing prince might have been worse than being dragged off as a fool.

Just then, the distant sound of the bells rang from the red temple, signifying midnight and the arrival of the new year.

"The new year is here."

"Let us toast to the gods above, may they bless Pentos with favorable weather in the coming year."

The Magisters of Pentos raised their glasses once again.

"At the same time, we would like to thank our distinguished guest, whose presence has added even more color to Pentos," the Prince of Pentos spoke.

The guards standing beside Viserys had already checked the wine in his cup and whispered a few words in his ear.

"Thank you for the Prince's warm hospitality…"

.

Viserys raised his own cup of wine as well, taking a delicate sip before setting it down.

However, at that moment, someone suddenly interrupted Viserys' words.

"Are you not fond of wine, Your Grace, the King of the Seven Kingdoms?"

Viserys had only taken a small sip in response to the toast from the Prince of Pentos.

A Magister, whose name Viserys did not know, suddenly spoke up.

He was seated in the fifth position to the right of the Prince of Pentos, wearing a black fur cloak. His hair was also graying, but his eyes were bright and alert.

Most of the Magisters in the Prince's palace were white-haired old men; Illyrio could even be considered young among them.

"Oh, my apologies."

The Magister then shook his head to himself.

"I forgot that you just came of age after your nameday this year, and now—"

"Perhaps you still can't drink."

The Magister's provocative remark was not unexpected to many.

Only the Prince sitting on the golden and ivory throne seemed a bit pale, while some other Magisters whispered among themselves, even letting out quiet chuckles, curious to see how Viserys, a green boy, would respond.

Viserys caught the provocation in the other's words, furrowed his brow slightly as he held his cup, and looked at the Magister across the hall.

"You're right."

"From childhood, my royal education has taught me that those who rely on alcohol are either fools or weaklings."

Viserys' words seemed to question whether the Magister was an idiot.

"And..."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Viserys had been a bit distracted while talking to Baelorion and had not remembered the Magister's name.

However, he did remember that the man's primary business was in the wine industry.

Laughter filled the hall once more as Viserys' words fell, but this time it was not aimed at him.

These Magisters also had their own disputes and were not a united front, so they didn't hesitate to laugh at the man's embarrassment.

The white-haired wine merchant Magister's face visibly stiffened, and his eyes flickered with cold anger.

As a powerful Magister in the city-state, his estate was filled with wealth.

He employed numerous servants and workers, paying them only enough to eat, and they filled an entire street.

Still, countless poor people came to his mansion daily, begging for the opportunity to work for him.

The Magisters of Pentos monopolized various industries, leaving the poor with no choice but to work for them, or else starve in the streets.

Bloodstained capital never slept, amassing wealth that made the Magister somewhat arrogant, feeling as though he had become an omnipotent 'god.'

Even if facing the Dothraki Khal, they still managed to manipulate him with their combined efforts.

So, he was also one of the Magisters who coveted Viserys' dragons.

If Pentos could acquire a dragon, then they could hire mercenary armies with their gold, conquering other city-states, expanding markets, accumulating capital, and then using that capital to hire even more powerful armies.

This was the ambitious dream of the more aggressive faction.

However, this young man, not much older than his own grandson, seemed to barely acknowledge his existence.

"Beron Lupert, Magister."

"A conceited red wine merchant who thinks all the people of Pentos will drink his red wine."

As the atmosphere in the hall grew tense, another Magister, who did not get along with Lupert, sneered and spoke up.

"However, his wine is nowhere near as good as that from the Arbor."

The feast had only just begun, but the atmosphere had already taken an eerie turn.

The feast had only just begun, but the atmosphere had already taken an eerie turn.

Chapter 204: Exposure

Varys knew well that the Magisters were not united.

If they could join forces, perhaps Pentos would not be in its current state.

They would not be so oppressed by Braavos, but they had spent too much energy on internal struggles.

"Enough, enough."

"We have distinguished guests here; let's not make a fool of ourselves."

Another Magister, seated on the right side, interjected, trying to defuse the tension.

He also glanced at Beron Lupert, and their eyes met briefly before he warned him.

"Beron, watch your words."

"Hmph."

The Wine Magister snorted coldly but said nothing more.

Playing good cop and bad cop?

Viserys observed their expressions but still raised his cup to the Magister who tried to smooth things over.

...

Inside the Prince's Palace, intrigues and schemes were brewing.

Outside the palace, in the city of Pentos, the festive atmosphere continued.

New Year's Day was crucial for Pentos. They would have a virgin blessed by the Prince of Pentos, then offered to the land and sea, praying for favorable weather in the coming year.

If their prayers failed and Pentos lost a war or experienced a poor harvest, the people would not blame the gods.

Instead, they would believe that the Pentoshi co-ruling Prince had angered the divine on New Year's Day.

They would slit the throat of the Prince who presided over the sacrificial ceremony to appease the gods' wrath, then elect a new Prince.

Tonight.

Pentos transformed into a city that never slept, with lanterns and decorations everywhere, and crowded streets.

Even the strictest merchants would reward their employees and slaves at this time, giving them a day off.

At the largest port in Pentos, ships were also adorned with lights.

The waves continuously lapped at the beach.

The cold of winter could not dissipate the warmth of the people and the festive atmosphere.

In an unremarkable inn within the city of Pentos, the atmosphere felt somewhat out of place.

Several disguised members of the Windblown mercenary company were cleaning their weapons in a room.

They had infiltrated Pentos separately, waiting for a signal to gather and storm the Prince's Palace to eliminate the Pentoshi Magisters.

"I've had my eye on that woman for a long time. Once her husband is dead, she'll be mine."

A middle-aged mercenary with a beard on his chin and upper lip sat on the bed, cleaning his sword and wearing armor.

His roommate, hearing this, chuckled softly in a low voice.

"I remember you just saw that woman yesterday, Will."

"And she didn't even pay attention to you when you tried to flirt with her. Is that what you call 'having your eye on her for a long time?'"

The speaker was none other than Dick Straw from the Windblown.

Will and he were from the same town in Westeros, with Will known as "Will from the Woods."

"Hmph."

Will snorted.

"She doesn't know what she's missing."

"Did I ever tell you? Back when I was in King's Landing, there was a woman with a sigil of some lightning symbol..."

"Mm-hmm."

Dick Straw, sitting on another bed, nodded.

"That woman screamed louder on the ship than even Pretty Meris."

Will continued boasting.

"Heh—"

Dick Straw heard Will mention his past exploits again and scoffed with disdain.

Will had once seduced a noble lady from King's Landing, promising her eternal love. With his fair and handsome face at that time, he indeed appeared far better than her tremulous old husband.

However, the woman didn't seem to have a good ending after being deceived onto the ship. Besides satisfying Will's lust, she found herself in dire straits.

Ultimately, the ship reached Myr, and the unfortunate noble lady was sold by Will to a brothel in exchange for two gold dragons. No one knew if she was still alive.

Will had recounted this tale numerous times.

Some members of the company disdained Will's character, while most others simply laughed it off as a joke.

After all, none of the mercenaries in the company could criticize anyone else; they were all scoundrels.

While the Windblown inside the room prepared,

A sudden cacophony erupted outside the inn.

"Hmm?"

"What's going on?"

Will of the woods, furrowed his brow, then glanced at another companion who had been silent all along.

"Ally."

"Go outside and see what's happening."

This companion named Ally was a mercenary from Myr, the newest member of the Windblown. He naturally couldn't compare to the more experienced veterans, serving more as a tea-pouring, water-fetching role.

However, he owed Will his life on the battlefield.

"Alright."

Ally shrugged nonchalantly, somewhat exasperated by Will's caution.

He thought there shouldn't be any issues. The people of Pentos had no defenses against their arrival.

The young Myrish swordsman then opened the door and stepped out, ready to ask some questions.

He saw a group of Pentoshi guards approaching from the other end of the corridor.

Upon seeing Ally, the guards' faces changed, and they drew their swords from their waists.

Clang...

The Myrish mercenary's heart raced upon seeing the Pentoshi guards.

"Damn."

He had initially planned to play dumb and try to bluff his way out, but it seemed that the guards were specifically targeting them.

Bluffing was virtually impossible.

"It's exposed!"

Ally's face changed dramatically, and he drew his longsword, shouting a warning to his comrades inside the room.

"Run!"

The guards on the other side of the corridor accelerated their advance upon seeing this scene.

"Stop!"

"Don't run!"

A sword then swung towards him.

However, as a mercenary, Ally had far more combat experience than these Pentoshi guards. He struck with his sword, and the guard's head snapped back in response.

Crack—

The Pentoshi soldier's sword struck the wooden railing of the inn's second-floor corridor, sending wood chips flying and severing the railing.

Inside the room, the other two Windblown mercenaries, Dick and Will, were old hands. They wouldn't have asked Ally to check outside otherwise.

Hearing their comrade's warning, the two mercenaries exchanged glances.

Crack—

They kicked open the wooden window cover and jumped from the second floor, landing on the stable's roof below.

Boom—

The stable roof collapsed under the impact, frightening the horses inside and causing them to neigh in terror.

Meanwhile, word had somehow leaked out, and the inn was now surrounded by Pentoshi guards.

Upon seeing someone jumping from the second floor, the guards swarmed in like a pack of vicious dogs.

"Stop!"

"Kill them!"

The two veteran Windblown mercenaries felt their scalps tingle at the sight.

"Bad news!"

They knew that this was no accident; their mission had been leaked. Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many guards coming to arrest them

"Their leader's plan is going to be a disaster this time..."

However, at this moment, they had no time to worry about the Tattered Prince; they could only focus on the immediate danger.

The two men exchanged a glance and without any hesitation, wielding their longswords, they split up and darted into the narrow alleyways.

...

Chapter 205: Griffin

In the inn, the Windblown mercenary Ali continued to fight desperately.

Crash—

The inn's corridor was a mess, with wooden railings chopped apart and a wooden barrel grabbed by Ali and hurled directly at a guardsman's face.

Thump.

The guardsman was knocked to the ground, his face bloodied as if a soy sauce bottle had been spilled, and it seemed his nose was broken.

Seeing this, the pursuing soldiers were even more enraged.

"Don't run!"

"Quick! Capture him!"

The mercenary ran ahead, with the city guard soldiers chasing after him.

Seeing the two veteran mercenaries abandon him and escape through the window, Ali felt hopeless. Soon after, he was caught in a pincer attack by the guardsmen rushing up from below at the staircase.

Clang—

The Windblown mercenary drew his longsword, intending to fight back, but the guardsmen disregarded any chivalry and swarmed him.

Clang, clang, clang—

Swords clashed, sparks flying in the narrow stairwell as an intense battle ensued.

With a pained grunt, Ali fought back, but he was no match for their numbers and soon fell.

During the chaos, he was stabbed in the thigh by a sword, and he screamed in pain, dropping to his knees while holding his leg. His longsword fell to the ground.

Unexpectedly, an accident occurred among the Pentos city guards as well.

The confined space of the stairwell was chaotic, and the untrained soldiers wielding their weapons accidentally injured one of their own.

One of the guardsmen had a gash on his arm, caused by his comrade.

Fortunately, it wasn't a severe wound, but he had lost quite a bit of blood and his face was pale.

The Windblown mercenary sat on the ground, clutching his leg as blood flowed freely.

One of the city guards had been chasing him for quite a while and was still panting. Seeing the wretched mercenary wailing on the ground, he couldn't hold back his anger.

He drew his sword, intending to kill the mercenary.

Clang—

"Hmm?"

But as his sword was about to stab down, it was blocked by the captain of the city guard, whose sword still had traces of blood.

This captain seemed much more competent than his colleagues. Of course, not all the guards in Pentos were incompetent.

He was the one who had stabbed Ali's thigh and subdued the Windblown mercenary.

"The Magister wants him alive," he said.

The captain of the city guard was a man in his thirties.

His face was clean and well-groomed, with faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his gaze was calm.

The captain looked deeply at the reckless soldier, then pushed the man's sword away with his own.

"Hmph—"

The reckless soldier was pushed back, snorted in discontent but still reluctantly backed down.

With a click, he sheathed his sword.

His background was far more powerful than that of the captain. If it weren't for the captain's competence...

However, the captain didn't pay him any more attention, his gaze instead falling on the bleeding mercenary sitting on the ground.

He furrowed his brows and spoke.

"First, stop his bleeding."

"Then bring him back for interrogation."

As the captain's words fell, two soldiers stepped forward.

"Yes, Captain Griffin!"

Following that, the two soldiers lifted Ali from the ground and took him to have his wounds treated and bandaged.

Then they took him to the dungeon and pried open his mouth for interrogation.

...

And such scenes were not only happening here but also unfolding in other parts of the city of Pentos.

"Open up!"

Boom—

Squads of imposing soldiers kicked open the doors of inns and taverns.

Then, wielding their weapons, they barged in and began to roughly search all the guest rooms.

"You!"

"Get over here!"

Once they discovered suspicious individuals, they would capture them first, and if they resisted arrest, they would be executed without mercy on the spot.

Pfft—

A soldier killed a mercenary who had clearly lost the ability to resist with a single sword strike.

Chaos was everywhere.

Meanwhile, in a tavern a mile away, the place was now in complete disarray.

Several Pentoshi soldier corpses lay on the ground, having just experienced a fierce battle.

Pfft.

At that moment.

A shirtless Dothraki man pulled his arakh curved blade from a body that was slumped over the tavern counter.

Blood immediately flowed down.

The Dothraki man wiped off the blood that had just splattered onto his cheek.

He was a captain of the Windblown mercenary company, the Ragged Prince's right-hand man, Caggo. The brave Dothraki's expression was somewhat gloomy at this moment.

He knew that their cover must have been blown, but he didn't know if there was a traitor leaking information or if it was for some other reason.

However, it now seemed that the former possibility might be more likely.

The Ragged Prince wanted to lead his brothers to riches, to change their fate and become the masters of Pentos.

But there were selfish people within the Windblown who sought higher gains, betraying their leader and leaking the plan to the Magisters of Pentos.

Perhaps...

There was another possibility.

This traitor might have been a spy planted by the Pentoshi Magisters within the Windblown from the start.

After all, the Ragged Prince's legendary background had long been widely known, and he had never forgotten Pentos.

So the Magisters had planted spies in the Windblown long ago, but they had not yet been discovered...

Damn it!

Caggo's face twisted in anger, the scar on his cheek twitching slightly. He hated betrayal more than anything.

"The plan has been exposed; we can't wait any longer."

The Dothraki man's fierce gaze swept over the Windblown members who were with him.

"So...what should we do?"

"Boss Caggo."

The mercenaries following Caggo exchanged glances.

They had just killed these Pentoshi guards together, and now they were in a predicament with no way out. They had no choice but to follow their leader and see this through to the end.

"Come with me to find the leader; we won't wait for the little king in the royal palace!"

"We'll launch the plan ahead of schedule. As for whether he lives or dies—"

Caggo sneered coldly, holding his bloodstained arakh curved blade, his facial scar looking menacing.

"We'll leave it to fate."

...

The most iconic building in the city of Pentos was the colossal Red Temple.

And within this massive Red Temple...

A red-robed priestess knelt quietly in the silent great hall. Her long red hair spread evenly across her back, and a small fire was placed in front of her to dispel the darkness and cold within the hall.

The beautiful woman stared at the flickering flames as if she could see events yet to unfold within them.

And at that moment...

The sound of footsteps echoed behind Melisandre.

Chapter 206: Turmoil Underneath

Upon hearing the footsteps behind her, the woman remained still, only shifting her gaze slightly to the side.

Soon after, she returned her gaze forward.

Step by step...

Quickly.

A man, his face concealed by a black hooded cloak, entered the great hall.

Viserys' residence was under strict surveillance, and the inns and lodgings throughout Pentos were being searched.

No one expected Viserys to have his backup plan arranged within the Red Temple.

"The city is already in chaos," said Ramsay Snow, lifting his hooded head slightly to reveal a shadowy face.

His eyes were filled with undisguised desire as he looked up and down at the Red Priestess of R'hllor.

Melisandre, who was kneeling before the fire, remained silent for a while after hearing Ramsay's words. It seemed as though she was pondering something, her beautiful eyes fixed on the flickering flames.

It wasn't until Ramsay's outstretched hand was about to touch her cheek that she finally reacted.

"Ramsay Snow," Melisandre abruptly spoke.

In the vast, empty hall, the priestess's voice seemed ethereal and even echoed.

Ramsay's hand froze in mid-air.

He had a strong feeling that if he touched Melisandre's cheek, something terrible would happen.

Though the woman knelt before the fire with her back to him, her fragrance had already infiltrated his nostrils.

However, Ramsay felt an intense chill from the top of his head to his toes.

"You..."

A hint of disbelief flickered in Ramsay's eyes as he involuntarily took two steps back, but still stubbornly argued.

"Hmph, aren't the temple's offerings meant for..."

In the Red Temple of R'hllor, many abandoned orphans were taken in, who would grow up to become monks or temple prostitutes.

It was said that an ancient High Priest of R'hllor once proclaimed that during sexual climax, people could sense the divine, which is why the role of temple prostitutes existed.

However, many high-ranking R'hllor followers knew that it was merely a means to attract and strengthen their religious following.

For this reason, the term 'offering' was often tarnished in Essos.

Ramsay meant just that.

He didn't actually harbor any ill intentions, but he couldn't control his hand. He thought that both he and Melisandre were Viserys' dogs, and what difference did it make between dogs?

Yet Melisandre's expression remained unchanged, unprovoked by Ramsay's blatantly humiliating words.

Her eyes were still as calm as an ancient well, and then she spoke in an even tone.

"I saw your tragic end in the flames," she said.

"Ramsay."

"If you can't control your lower half and incite the wrath of the people, the prophecy will come true."

Melisandre's voice was indifferent, her red eyes flickering with fire as she continued to stare at the flames without turning her head. However, her words made Ramsay feel a shiver down his spine.

He didn't know if Melisandre had genuinely seen a prophecy about him in the flames or if she was simply trying to scare him.

Still, considering the ominous premonition he felt earlier, Ramsay decided to be more cautious from now on to avoid fulfilling the prophecy.

The young man with a gloomy face then straightened up and cleared his throat before speaking.

"The city is already in chaos, and for now, everything is going according to plan."

"Should we inform His Majesty about this so that he can be prepared?"

.

Melisandre sat quietly by the campfire, squinting her eyes slightly as she pondered for a moment before nodding.

"Very well."

"Have you completed all the tasks the true king entrusted to you?"

Upon hearing Melisandre's words, Ramsay's clean face immediately revealed a confident smile, his pearly white teeth bared.

"Of course."

...

In the prince's palace atop the highest hill in the city of Pentos.

Viserys sat on the top step of the circular hall, beside the Prince of Pentos, with Illyrio Mopatis, the Magister, on his left.

At this point, the banquet was more than halfway through, the wine had been poured three times and the dishes had been served five times. Aside from a minor conflict at the beginning, everything had been smooth sailing.

But beneath the surface, the undercurrents were still flowing subtly. Viserys noticed quite a few Magisters whispering among themselves and pointing at him.

And the servants of the Magisters were constantly coming in and out, reporting something.

In the palace corridors outside, a multitude of footsteps could be heard, almost completely drowned out by the sounds of the performances. If not for Viserys's extraordinary perception, he might not have noticed it.

Now, a jester was performing on the stage below. The sensual dance that had just occurred had come to an end.

He was a short dwarf with comical tattoos on his face. The jester was currently telling some not-so-funny, even somewhat vulgar jokes in an exaggerated and sharp tone.

Viserys felt drowsy, but the older Magisters seemed quite enthralled.

Underneath his black velvet robe, Viserys also wore scale armor, and at his waist was his sword, Dusk.

With one hand propping up his cheek, he looked down at the jester. The tattoos on the jester's face were said to be a custom in Volantis.

The people of Volantis liked to tattoo the faces of slaves, making it easier for them to identify who was a slave and who was a free citizen, and treat them accordingly.

Viserys didn't have any particular thoughts about this pitiful dwarf, as he didn't have the power to change the world, so there was no burden on his conscience.

The only person he would think of was the dwarf known as 'the Imp,' Tyrion Lannister.

Tyrion, a few years older than Viserys, should be around seventeen or eighteen by now. Although he was small in stature, his intelligence was astonishing.

If possible, Viserys quite wanted to meet the Imp and have a chat with him.

Unfortunately, the Targaryens and the Lannisters were mortal enemies, and the two were destined to be adversaries.

At least for now, it seemed that way.

Later on, the comical dwarf below seemed to be performing some kind of interactive program.

"Tsk tsk, I shall pick one from among you lords."

The dwarf's gaze then wandered and finally landed on Viserys, letting out a shrill cry, seemingly choosing him.

The young king, with one hand propping up his cheek, was a bit taken aback, not expecting the jester to pick him.

However, just as the jester approached him, a small paper ball silently fell out of his sleeve and landed at Viserys's feet.

"Hmm?"

Viserys's eyes narrowed slightly.

He then subtly turned his head left and right. What was this strong sense of familiarity?

Next, Viserys discreetly stepped on the small paper ball with his foot, unnoticed by the others.

When the jester finished his game and left, Viserys finally bent down to pick it up.

The silver-haired youth unfolded the paper ball and glanced at it for just a few moments before his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Hmm?"

Elsewhere.

Thump, thump, thump...

The jester's performance had not yet ended.

Suddenly, a soldier rushed in from outside. He leaned down and whispered a few words into a Magister's ear.

Immediately, the elderly Magister's face changed.

"What?"

Chapter 207: Cornered and Dagger Revealed

Thirty years ago, a man betrayed and fled Pentos.

He harbored resentment against the Magisters and his family, leaving his hometown to travel far to the disputed lands, rumored to have joined several mercenary groups.

At that time, the Magisters of Pentos didn't take him seriously.

After all, he hadn't accepted an appointment yet and fled on the eve of it.

So the then-Magisters of Pentos temporarily selected another unfortunate soul to replace him.

The Magisters thought he might die in some unremarkable corner, never able to return to his homeland.

However, they didn't expect that the runaway prince would establish his own mercenary group, achieving victory after victory and gradually expanding his influence, becoming one of the significant forces in the disputed lands, with two thousand warriors under his command.

It was only then that the Magisters of Pentos took notice of him again.

But most of the Magisters who were in power thirty years ago were now gone, having turned to dust.

The few who were still alive had long since retired and lay on their sickbeds, barely clinging to life.

The new generation of Magisters had heard of this runaway prince's name, but they didn't take him too seriously.

In their view, he was just a small worm that had managed to escape.

Although he always claimed that he would return to his homeland one day, thirty years had passed, and he hadn't even dared to set foot in Pentos' gates.

But...

Everything changed this evening.

The Magisters of Pentos had ruled this city for many years, and their family industries had been rooted in this land for generations.

Although the infighting among the Magisters had consumed most of their energy and exposed many weaknesses, their power was still deeply rooted, and they received secret intelligence about the Windblown through some channels before the incident.

The runaway prince and two thousand Windblown warriors had already secretly infiltrated the city, split into smaller groups.

It was like a powder keg buried beneath their feet, just waiting for a spark to ignite at any moment.

However, they, the Magisters, were sitting on the powder keg, only realizing the Windblown had infiltrated for two or three days when they finally noticed.

So the Magisters who received this news were furious.

Then they instructed their trusted subordinates in the city guard to search for and arrest these Windblown mercenaries, collectively pressuring the current commander of the city guard.

As a result, during the New Year's Day celebration, a large number of soldiers seemingly went mad, smashing open the doors of inns and guesthouses, searching for mercenaries.

Anyone found suspicious was immediately arrested, and if they dared to resist, they were executed on the spot.

Now, the prince's palace was still peaceful, but the outside world had already descended into chaos.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...

City guards were everywhere, patrolling the streets and arresting mercenaries.

There were many mercenaries in Pentos, and they, too, lived on the edge of a knife, so naturally, they began to fight back.

Many non-Windblown mercenaries were also affected, and the city guard soldiers couldn't tell the difference.

So now the outside world had become a battlefield between the city guards and the mercenaries, with fighting figures everywhere in the streets.

Clang, clang, clang...

Swords clashed, and the cries of battle shook the heavens.

"Kill!"

Unaware of what had happened, the people began to cry and scatter, fleeing in all directions.

The festive atmosphere had long been overshadowed by panic.

...

"What?"

A Magister seated to the right of the prince was the first to receive the news brought by a servant, his face changing slightly, and he couldn't help but let out a sound.

Then he realized he had lost his composure, quickly shutting his mouth, his expression somewhat gloomy.

The atmosphere in the banquet became subtle, and the other Magisters quietly exchanged glances, not knowing what had happened.

However, it wasn't long before several more servants hurriedly entered the hall from outside, approaching their respective masters, whispering something in their ears.

"Hmm?"

"What?"

"How could this be?"

The faces of the Magisters changed drastically.

Some of them knew the news already, while many others who were not well-informed just found out that the Windblown had infiltrated Pentos.

"What's going on?"

Illyrio also received the news from the servant outside, his face changing slightly as he turned to look at Viserys.

The infiltration of the Windblown into Pentos was undoubtedly linked to Viserys.

The feast in the hall instantly turned chaotic.

However, Viserys stared at the note in his hand, his eyes somewhat grave.

The situation had somewhat deviated from his expectations and plans, but...

At this point, there was no room for any retreat.

And at that moment, the Magisters on the other side of the hall suddenly rose up.

Anyone could guess that the Windblown affair was closely connected to this young king, even though they had no evidence.

But they didn't need evidence; their speculation alone was enough to confirm their conclusion.

If there were no connections between the Windblown and Viserys, they were willing to eat the plates in front of them on the spot.

Bang—

"Viserys Targaryen!"

The Magister who first received the news slammed the table and stood up.

An elderly Magister with white hair on the other side waved his hand to stop him, then fixed his dull yellow eyes on the young king who sat calmly in his seat.

Not a trace of panic or surprise could be seen on his handsome face, and for convenience, his silver-gold hair was tied into a simple braid hanging behind him.

"Your Majesty, you had better provide an explanation for this matter."

The white-haired old Magister said solemnly.

There were different ranks among the Magisters, and he, as the leader of the radical faction, held a revered position among the Magisters of Pentos.

However, at this time, the white-haired Magister had an ominous feeling, and his aged, bark-like fingers clenched tightly together.

"Son of the Mad King!"

"It was you who brought the Windblown here!"

But before Viserys could speak, other Pentoshi Magisters beside him could no longer contain their anger, and the hall was filled with various vicious curses.

"Spawn of the evil dragon! How dare you disturb Pentos!"

The Scott Magister, who had harbored deep hostility towards Viserys from the beginning, stood up in anger, drawing the sword from his waist and pointing it at Viserys.

"I knew there wasn't a single good Targaryen."

If looks could kill, Viserys would have been riddled with holes by now.

"Esteemed lords!"

"Haven't we discussed this beforehand?"

One Magister also stood up.

Pointing at the silver-haired youth who still sat calmly in his seat, he then loudly urged.

"Seize him!"

"Force him to hand over the dragon!"

Chapter 208: Encirclement

Thirty years ago, a man defected... and left Pentos.

He was filled with resentment towards the Magister and his family, so he fled far away to the disputed lands.

Rumor had it that in order to survive, this pampered nobleman had to pick up a sword and fight. He drifted between several mercenary companies and mingled with commoners, living by dirty bridges and sewer drains.

At that time, the Magisters of Pentos didn't take him seriously.

After all, an ant couldn't keep an elephant's attention, and no one thought he could make any waves. So they simply ignored him.

The Magisters of Pentos then temporarily selected another unfortunate soul from the forty noble families to replace his position, making him a puppet on the ivory and gold throne.

He enjoyed wealth and luxury.

The Magisters believed that the man who had fled would perhaps die in some inconspicuous corner, never able to return home in his lifetime.

However, no one could have foreseen how fate would toy with him.

This prince, who fled on the eve of his appointment, gained a certain reputation and a small group of followers after being forced to pick up a sword, fight, and drift between several mercenary companies.

So he left his previous mercenary company and, along with five companions, founded a new one.

Under the leadership of the prince who had fled, the newly established mercenary company won battle after battle, gradually expanding its power.

It took them ten years to grow into one of the influential forces in the disputed lands, commanding two thousand brave and skilled warriors.

It was only at this point that the Magisters of Pentos paid attention to this man once more.

However, thirty years had passed, and few of the ruling Magisters remained. Most had turned to dust, and the few who were still alive had long since retired, struggling to stay alive in their sickbeds.

The new generation of Magisters had heard of the title of the defected prince but didn't know his background. Since the time gap was so long, they didn't take him seriously either, seeing him as nothing more than a lucky worm favored by fate.

Though he always claimed that one day he would return home openly and honorably, he never dared to set foot in the doors of Pentos in thirty years.

And now... who could have imagined that his name would be brought up again at this time?

A single sentence from Magister Scot caused a huge uproar in the banquet hall.

"What? Viserys is colluding with the Windblown?"

"Is it that guy who defected thirty years ago?"

"The Ragged Prince, right?"

"Yes, it's him."

Many Magisters showed bewildered and surprised expressions upon hearing this shocking news. They couldn't help but whisper to the people beside them, apparently just learning of the news.

Only a few Magisters knew that the Windblown had infiltrated Pentos.

And they had only secretly received this information through various channels a few hours before the festival parade.

It was already dark at that time.

These informed Magisters only knew the news but didn't know how serious the situation was, thinking that only a group of Windblown mercenaries had infiltrated.

The relationship between the Magisters wasn't harmonious, even though they were all considered radical and advocated threatening Viserys to hand over the dragon.

However, before this incident, these Magisters who are now considered a faction were actually hostile enemies, and not stabbing each other in the back was already good enough.

So the news of the Windblown infiltrating Pentos wasn't widely spread among the Magisters.

Magister Scot, who had considerable power in the city-state, was one of those who knew about the matter.

His words completely shattered the silence in the banquet hall. All the Magisters began whispering to each other, and the servants and guards in the hall couldn't help but exchange glances.

At this moment, more and more servants and soldiers were entering the hall from the outside.

These people were the guards and servants brought by various Magisters, and they had all come in to deliver news from the outside world to their masters.

Thump, thump, thump...

After hurriedly entering and whispering the news into the ears of their respective masters, the faces of the Magisters suddenly changed.

"What?"

"How could this happen?"

.

Sitting to the left of Prince Panto were conservative Magisters, including Illyrio, none of whom had servants come in to tell them what was happening outside.

The conservative Magisters were whispering among themselves, not knowing what was happening outside, but judging from the expressions on the faces of the Magisters across from them, it didn't seem like good news.

"Why isn't anyone coming in..."

At this moment, Illyrio seemed to have a premonition of danger approaching.

He clenched his fists slightly and glanced left and right with his small eyes before quietly instructing a servant next to him.

"Understood, master."

The servant then hurried down the stairs and walked towards the entrance of the hall.

Illyrio watched the servant closely, and seeing him successfully leave through the main door, he let out a small sigh of relief.

However, just as he relaxed, a faint scream suddenly came from outside the hall, only audible to those who listened carefully.

It sounded as if someone had suddenly covered their mouth from behind and stabbed a dagger into their throat, then the scream stopped abruptly.

Illyrio's face changed drastically.

At that moment,

A soldier wearing armor and carrying a long spear walked into the banquet hall from outside.

He had a short sword hanging from his waist, and although it was well concealed, there seemed to be a trace of blood visible near his cuff.

Then the soldier casually closed the palace door, retreated, and locked it from the outside.

Click—

The crisp sound of the lock didn't attract much attention amidst the noise caused by the elder Magister's words.

The hall was still in chaos.

Meanwhile, outside,

The soldier who had walked out with bloodstains on him locked the door to the hall and nodded to his colleagues nearby.

"Alright."

And that servant sent out by Illyrio,

His body was now being dragged by two soldiers into the bushes of the palace garden not far away.

A long trail of blood was left on the ground as he was dragged.

The night was deep.

It had already passed midnight on the first day of the new year.

Outside the banquet hall,

Under the blazing torches, cold weapons reflected a chilling glow.

"Over here!"

"Quick!"

Rows of armored soldiers were already in battle formation, surrounding the palace tightly from the outside.

Chapter 209: The Bloody Banquet

The great hall within the Prince's palace was besieged.

Outside the palace, there were towering walls and heavy gates.

A few palace guards surreptitiously peeked outside and attempted to quietly close the palace gates.

However, their movements caught the attention of Andalos soldiers.

"Hm?"

"Hey, what are you doing?"

These soldiers, loyal to Viserys, had just received a message from Ramsay.

They were told to be vigilant as the situation in Pentos was changing, and to be ready to storm the palace to rescue His Majesty at the first sign of trouble.

Therefore, they remained highly alert.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you closing the gates?"

Seeing the palace guards' movements, the Andalos soldiers were immediately on alert, standing up with their weapons in hand and loudly attempting to stop them.

However, the guards not only didn't stop at their voices, but instead hastened their actions, trying to forcibly close the palace gates.

Boom—

The heavy palace gates made a huge noise as they began to close slowly.

"Something's wrong! There's trouble!"

The Andalos soldiers instantly reacted to this, realizing that something must have indeed gone wrong inside the palace.

Whistle—

They then fired a warning arrow.

"Quick! Take the palace gate!"

"Storm in! Rescue His Majesty!"

The commander of the personal guard under Viserys immediately ordered in a stern voice.

Two hundred fully armed Andalos soldiers surged forward, attempting to forcibly stop the closing of the palace gates and seize control.

"Stop them!"

"Keep closing the city gate! Lock them out!"

.

The palace guards, seeing the approaching assault, naturally drew their swords to resist. They sought to stop these Andals from storming in, attempting to forcibly close the city gates.

However, the orders from the Pentoshi officer came a step too late. The Andalos soldiers reacted promptly, and the city gates were too heavy to be easily closed by force.

Several Andalos soldiers raised their hand crossbows, and bolts flew out.

Thud Thud Thud—

Several soldiers attempting to forcibly close the city gates were immediately hit by arrows. They screamed in pain and fell to the ground.

"Attack!"

Then, a brave Andalos soldier was the first to charge forward.

The Pentoshi retaliated vigorously, slashing with a sword. The Andalos soldier held up his shield in defense.

Thud—

A sword fiercely chopped down onto the shield, leaving only a shallow scar. The Andalos soldier didn't even sway.

Then, he thrust his sword towards the opponent's throat with his right hand.

Clang—

The clash of metal emitted a harsh sound, as the thrust was blocked by the opponent's sword.

However, before this Pentoshi guard could counterattack, he saw a shield rapidly enlarging in front of his eyes.

Thud—

The shield fiercely slammed into him. He lost his balance and fell to the ground.

The Andalos soldier seized the opportunity to charge forward, stabbing his sword into the guard's eye socket, ending his life.

"Attack!"

"Seize the palace gate!"

The Andalos soldiers surged forward, while the guards of the Prince's palace also fought back. Both sides began to fight at this narrow palace entrance.

Clang Clang—

Weapons collided violently, sword blades slashed onto bright armor, the battle was fierce.

The Pentoshi guards, unable to withstand the onslaught, were repeatedly cut down, screaming, then trampled into pulp by countless heavy iron boots.

The battle-hardened Andalos soldiers showed their superiority over the Pentoshi soldiers in an instant.

The red and black wave flooded into the city gate like a tide.

And the defenders were steadily retreating, quickly losing control of the palace gate entirely.

...

.

Meanwhile, inside the palace's great hall.

Keen—

A sharp, high pitched sound suddenly echoed from the outside world, like a signal of some sort. Viserys, upon hearing this, narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Damn it—"

On the other hand, Illyrio's face had turned extremely ugly at this moment.

He had sensed what was about to happen. This matter had not been communicated to him and other conservative Magisters in advance, which was enough to illustrate the problem.

Those people were likely planning not only to target Viserys but also to seize this opportunity to purge them, the Magisters as well.

"Viserys!"

"Watch out!"

The potbellied merchant Magister suddenly stood up, flipping the table in front of him with a swift movement of his hand.

The wine and food spilled all over the floor with a clatter, and he shouted out a warning.

"Hm?"

Viserys, hearing the noise, turned his head to look at Illyrio.

At that moment,

Several servants, who were serving tea and water next to the other conservative Magisters, suddenly pulled out short daggers from their robes.

With a speed that nobody had time to react to, they plunged their weapons into the chests and abdomens of these elderly Magisters.

Thud Thud Thud—

The knives sank into their chests and abdomens, blood quickly gushed out, staining their clothes.

The scene unfolded so abruptly that the guards accompanying their respective masters didn't even have time to react.

By the time they did react, it was already too late.

"Damn it!"

The guards drew their swords and cut down these assassins.

However, by now, their masters had already widened their eyes, their trembling lips rapidly losing color. Blood trickled down from the corners of their mouths, coughing up bloody foam, staining their beards red.

....

However, disbelief was etched across their faces till the end. They never believed that anyone would dare to harm them.

This was a game-breaking move, like opening Pandora's Box. With such a disastrous beginning, Pentos may never know peace again.

Among them, an inconspicuous servant standing by a palace pillar also pulled out a dagger from his robe and suddenly charged at Viserys.

"Die!"

He aimed to bring Viserys down.

However, Viserys was not like those aged Magisters. He was in the prime of his youth, and he had heard the secret signal and Illyrio's warning beforehand, so his reaction was incredibly swift.

Splash—

The table in front of Viserys was knocked over by the charging assassin, and the wine and dishes on it scattered on the floor.

However, the young king nimbly dodged the assassin's blade, seizing the opportunity to grab the attacker's wrist.

Snap—

His fingers gripped the assailant's wrist like a tiger's claw. His other hand seized the assassin's hair, pulling it back harshly to reveal a pale neck.

A pair of light purple eyes stared intently at the assassin at close range.

The assassin, too, hadn't expected Viserys to react so quickly, nor had he anticipated the strong force concealed within Viserys's slender frame. He found himself unable to shake off the grip on his wrist.

"Spare me."

Fear filled his eyes as he pleaded for mercy.

However, Viserys ignored him. With a slight exertion of force, under the terrified gaze of the assassin, he held the assailant's wrist, using his own dagger to slice open his throat.

Spurt—

Blood sprayed out in an instant.

Yet, at that moment,

Thump Thump Thump—

The twang of bowstrings filled the air, and several crossbow bolts were shot towards Viserys.

....

Chapter 210: The Mountain

On the upper level of the palace, a row of Pentos soldiers, each brandishing a crossbow, had appeared at some point.

They raised their crossbows, aiming at the conservative Magisters' guards below, including Viserys and Illyrio.

Then, they pulled the triggers.

The next second.

Thwack, thwack, thwack —

The strings of their crossbows were released.

Bolts flew out under the illumination of the palace's candlelight, their cold gleam flashing as they hurtled towards the crowd below.

The radical Magisters had suddenly made a deadly move. The conservative Magisters were instantly hit hard, assassinated at their desks without any preparation.

Their intent was to nip things in the bud, so that once the palace doors opened, they could pin the whole incident on Viserys.

Therefore, the guards of these conservative Magisters were also in a terrible predicament; they were not allowed to survive.

Thud, thud, thud —

One after another, those trying to hide or plead for mercy were shot and fell into puddles of blood.

Illyrio, who had been the first to flip the table, naturally reacted quickly. Although he was somewhat overweight, in his younger days Illyrio had been a good hand among mercenaries.

Using the cover of the desk, the portly Magister ducked behind a stone column inside the hall, right in the blind spot of the shooting angle.

Clang, clang...

Several bolts aimed at him hit the palace's stone column and were deflected.

Viserys, too, reacted quickly. He had just killed the assassin who had suddenly attacked him, then in the blink of an eye saw a group of Pentos soldiers on the second floor of the palace, raising their crossbows.

So Viserys responded swiftly, clutching the body of the assassin in front of him to use as a shield.

Thud, thud —

Two bolts drilled directly into the body of the assassin, splattering blood. Two more bolts nailed themselves into the ground at Viserys's feet.

Then Viserys discarded the body he had used as a shield, and with a roll, hid behind another stone column.

Boom —

Pentos soldiers, who had been lying in ambush outside for some time, broke in at this moment.

The large hall was instantly filled with soldiers in earthen-colored armor, armed and ready.

They set upon the conservative Magisters and their guards who were shot but not yet dead, struggling to survive, and finished them off.

Pleading for mercy was futile; these soldiers didn't even blink at the sight. Coldly, they raised their weapons and ended their victims' lives.

A few guards, upon seeing this, angrily drew their swords to resist, but after only a few exchanges were completely overwhelmed by the crowd.

Among these invading Pentos soldiers, one man stood out. He was exceptionally tall, nearly eight feet, and stood out amongst the crowd like a crane among chickens.

His shoulders were broad, his arms as thick as small tree trunks. Wearing heavy armor and wielding a huge sword in one hand — a sword that would be hard for an ordinary man to swing with both hands — he was like an unstoppable tank.

At this moment, he lifted a resisting conservative Magister's guard with one hand. The guard kicked frantically, trying to pry open his arm, but couldn't budge it an inch.

"Spare...spare me."

.

The Magister's guard showed an expression of sheer terror on his face, almost wetting his pants in fear, his voice trembling as he tried to beg for mercy from this horrifying knight.

However, the knight's eyes revealed a cruel demeanor, and with a snap, he crushed the guard's neck.

Then, he tossed the lifeless body like a rag against the nearby wall.

Bang—

In an instant, blood and gore splattered out.

The surrounding Pentos soldiers retreated, not daring to provoke this man.

…

Not too far away.

By now, all the radical Magisters had distanced themselves, watching the one-sided massacre unfold with cold indifference.

Yet witnessing this brutal scene, they couldn't help but frown.

"This guy…"

"No wonder they call him the 'Most Evil Man in the Seven Kingdoms' across the Narrow Sea."

The Magisters whispered to one another.

"Lord Tywin said that with this man on our side, Viserys wouldn't stand a chance."

"Indeed, it seems he was right."

This man was sent by Lord Tywin of Casterly Rock, from across the Narrow Sea. Standing nearly eight feet tall and weighing about thirty stone, he was a true monstrous human.

Although the young Targaryen king had a reputation for his bravery, he seemed no match for this monster.

The difference between them was like night and day.

They couldn't imagine any way Viserys could escape from this creature's grasp.

…

"What is…"

On the chaotic battlefield.

Viserys' pupils constricted when he saw this man, and he couldn't help but feel a chill down his spine.

This was an innate sense of danger felt by any living creature.

At that moment, he had already drawn Dusk, the single-handed sword forged from the heart of a fallen star. As soon as it was unsheathed, the temperature around them dropped noticeably.

Around Viserys lay the bodies of several Pentos soldiers.

They had just been struck down by Viserys, and now the young king's blade was stained with blood. Under the flickering firelight within the hall, it looked even more eerie.

During the battle, Illyrio's thigh had been accidentally struck by a sword, and blood flowed without stopping.

Now, pale-faced, he followed Viserys, having also drawn his sword and slain a few Pentos guards.

The two of them were now surrounded by the Pentos soldiers, facing the terrifying monster.

The massive figure was clad in heavy armor, leaving only his eyes and a small opening for his nose and mouth exposed.

At that moment, the monstrous man was drenched in blood, looking like a demon. He held a great two-handed sword in his hand, his gaze coldly fixed on Viserys.

An empty space had been cleared in the center, leaving only Viserys and the monster. Pale-faced Illyrio retreated to the wall, one hand clutching his wounded thigh.

"Hey!"

At that moment, a Pentos officer shouted a reminder.

"By the Magister's orders, capture the Mad King's son alive, and be careful not to…"

But before the Pentos officer could finish, a cold, terrifying gaze fell upon him.

In that instant, the Pentos officer felt a chill running from his head to his toes, his face turning slightly pale, and he dared not say anything more.

Standing alone in the center, Viserys faced the monster, his eyes fixed intently on his opponent, cautiously maintaining his distance.

"Ser Gregor Clegane…"

Splatter…

He tightly gripped the hilt of Dusk, drawing the sword from the back of a fallen Pentos soldier beside him.

Blood dripped onto the ground.

Due to the force of his grip, his nails were turning slightly white as they clutched the hilt of the sword.

"So you're 'The Mountain'?"

...

Chapter 211: Confrontation

'Mountain.'

Viserys gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his gaze fixed on the colossal figure before him, a man who looked like a mountain. His eyes bore an unprecedented seriousness.

Gregor 'The Mountain' Clegane, known as 'The First Villain of the Seven Kingdoms,' could also be considered the theoretically strongest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms.

Gregor Clegane earned this title not because he possessed the best swordsmanship in the Seven Kingdoms, but because his stature was so enormous that the overwhelming pressure made Viserys feel somewhat suffocated.

Even more terrifying was that the Mountain's massive body did not hinder his speed and agility, coupled with his not too shabby swordsmanship...

This guy was simply a machine born to kill.

Hoo~

The silver-haired youth's breath became unconsciously heavy, his throat rolled slightly, exhaling a breath.

At the same time, he cautiously maintained the distance between him and this giant, stepping back continuously.

'Damn.'

'Why hasn't the backup arrived yet?'

Meanwhile, Illyrio, whose thigh had been pierced by a sword, was pale as a sheet, his wound still bleeding profusely, leaning heavily against the cold wall.

In truth, Illyrio had arranged for reinforcements in case of emergencies. If something unexpected happened, they would come to their aid.

However, for some reason, the reinforcements arranged by Illyrio had not yet arrived.

The Magister with the forked yellow beard watched Viserys face the giant, his already pale face looking even more desperate.

'Viserys? Are you sure you want to fight this guy?'

'This is the tallest man I've ever seen!'

Not just the Magisters of Pentos, even Illyrio felt that Viserys had no chance of winning this battle. The Pentos soldiers who had now surrounded this battlefield also seemed to think the same.

'By the gods!'

'This guy might be able to tame dragons!'

'Who in the world can fight him?'

Illyrio continued to talk incessantly. However, Viserys had no time to attend to the Magister, who was already terrified.

Because this was the most dangerous moment he had ever faced.

He did not know who would win or lose if Drogo were still alive and had a one-on-one duel with the Mountain. However, the psychological pressure that the Mountain was giving him now was stronger than Drogo.

'Viserys Targaryen.'

At this moment, the huge man, whose enormous figure was completely covered in heavy armor, suddenly spoke.

His voice was deep and resonant, like the bell of the Great Sept of Baelor, even making your ears hum if you heard it at close range.

Under the heavy helmet, the Mountain's icy eyes were also locked on the silver-haired boy in front of him.

Silver hair...

He remembered that at that time, he was kneeling in front of a silver-haired man. The face of that man was somewhat similar to the boy in front of him.

However, he hated to kneel before others.

The noble Ser Gregor Clegane detested two things most in his life. The first was other men being better-looking than him, and the second was kneeling to others.

And that silver-haired man embodied both, and even rested his sword on his neck.

..."

"So... he despises those with silver hair.

"Your elder brother, Rhaegar, knighted me with his own hands."

Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, spoke again, his voice as resonant as ever, his icy gaze fixed on the young man before him.

With a single hand, he dragged his heavy sword on the ground, sparks flying, as he advanced towards Viserys.

"Is that so?"

Viserys didn't understand why the Mountain was bringing up the past, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he responded.

"But you betrayed him."

Despite his spoken words, Viserys was alert, focusing all his attention on the Mountain's every move, not daring to be careless.

The next second.

Without any warning, the Mountain swung his colossal sword at Viserys, intending to cleave him in two.

Despite his huge size, the Mountain moved with startling speed, swinging his heavy sword swiftly and fiercely.

Seeing the sudden aggression, Viserys, although prepared, felt his heart lurch.

Nevertheless, his reaction was quick. He sidestepped the blow.

Clang—

The Mountain's sword, held in one hand, smashed into the ground where Viserys had been standing, scattering debris and dust, cracking the ground beneath Viserys' feet.

"Hiss..."

The watching soldiers of Pentos around the field couldn't help but draw a sharp breath.

"This monster..."

His strength was indeed too great.

Having narrowly avoided the Mountain's strike, Viserys exhaled a small breath. But he didn't rush to counter-attack, instead, he held Dawn and maintained a safe distance, seeming to be intimidated by the Mountain.

Meanwhile, Illyrio, leaning against a wall corner, was also watching the duel between Viserys and the Mountain, but in his current state, he could offer no assistance.

Even if he could go back twenty years, back to his days as a young, robust sellsword, he would still stand no chance against this terrifying foe.

"Viserys, be careful!"

Illyrio could only cheer for Viserys.

However, Viserys was too preoccupied to heed the voices around him. He was fully engaged in facing this dreadful enemy.

He couldn't afford to make the same mistake as Oberyn; if he gave the Mountain any opportunity, he would likely be the one to die.

"This guy's attack range is too wide."

Viserys thought to himself.

At the same time, he remembered Oberyn's advice on how to fight a taller opponent when teaching him spear technique.

Oberyn never forgot his sister's grudge, so over the years, he had been practicing how to defeat... no, kill a man much larger and taller than himself.

"Big guys may look all muscle, intimidating."

"But their necks, eyes, and other vital areas aren't well protected by muscles."

Back then, Oberyn, holding a spear in one hand, had just knocked down the young silver-haired boy, who sat panting on the ground.

Then Oberyn pointed his spear at the boy.

"Here."

"Here."

The sharp spear-tip came dangerously close to the boy's throat, his eyes.

"And here."

Smack—

Finally, the Prince of Dorne tapped Viserys's backside with the spear handle, urging him to get up from the ground.

...

Chapter 212: Maneuvering

'So, Viserys...'

'If you ever have to fight a man much larger than you, make full use of your advantage in agility.'

Clack clack—

Oberyn and the silver-haired boy once again crossed spears, the wooden shafts clashing with a resonating sound.

'Because a big man, no matter how strong or quick he might be, will inevitably lose some agility due to the limitations of his body.'

'Just as people can't turn their elbows out.'

As the silver-haired boy sparred with his teacher, he considered the idea that the human elbow indeed cannot turn outward.

He was then struck in the back by the ungentlemanly fellow's spear shaft.

Thwack—

The boy stumbled forward, nearly falling over.

But Oberyn did not pursue his advantage, merely laughed, resting his spear on the ground, and continued.

'Mighty muscles can certainly protect a warrior's body.'

'But they can't stop me from thrusting a dagger into a vital area unprotected by muscle.'

...

Boom—

The Mountain's sword shattered the floor, Viserys dodged.

Then this monstrous creature swung his great sword again.

'Traitor?'

Whoosh~

The great two-handed sword swung through the air, creating a deep howling sound.

If this strike hit Viserys, he might be bisected, his intestines and stomach strewn about.

Just now, the Mountain used this move to kill a guard of the conservative Magister, his halved body still lying on the ground not far away.

The young king's lavender eyes narrowed once again, but this time he chose not to engage directly with the Mountain, instead stepping back to avoid the sweeping sword.

Boom—

This time, Ser Gregor Clegane's sword struck the stone pillar next to where Viserys had just stood.

The flying debris hit the handsome face of the silver-haired youth, and the Mountain's sword left a shallow mark on the pillar.

'All you do is run, boy?'

Though his two strokes missed,

The Mountain seemed to enjoy the fight, his bones creaked as he stretched his muscles, his demeanor becoming more arrogant.

The nearly eight-foot-tall man flexed the muscles of his neck slightly, the sound making one's teeth ache.

Holding his great sword in one hand, he spoke, his voice like thunder, causing a buzzing sound in people's ears at close range.

'Rhaegar... I didn't just betray him...'

'I also raped his woman!'

Then, Gregor Clegane let out another great roar.

Like a high-speed tank, he charged at Viserys with his great sword.

When Viserys heard the Mountain's words, his grip on the sword hilt tightened to the point of whitening his knuckles, even making a sound.

'That's why you must die...'

'Mountain.'

This time he did something unexpected by all the spectators.

Viserys didn't choose to continue dodging, but charged at the Mountain, sword in hand.

As the battlefield where the two were clashing got closer and closer to him,

Illyrio leaned against the wall at the edge, one hand holding his injured thigh, a bitter smile on his face.

Then he saw Viserys suddenly rush at the Mountain with his sword, the Magister's mouth gaping wide enough to hold an egg.

The Pantos soldiers watching around had the same reaction.

Although they didn't believe Viserys had any chance of victory, continuing to use his agility to dance around this monster was the only chance to stay alive a bit longer.

Wasn't charging at him like this suicide?

."

"Yet, on the battlefield, The Mountain roared and rushed towards Viserys, while Viserys, noticeably smaller, also charged towards Gregor Clegane, sword in hand.

The swift exchange was almost too fast for the naked eye.

Clang…

The crisscrossing figures could only hear the intense friction of metal, assaulting everyone's ears.

This was followed by a loud crash.

Thump.

The Mountain, clad in his heavy armor, charged too fast to stop and crashed straight into the hall's wall, the armor emitting a dull sound.

Those in the hall could even feel a slight tremor in the walls, the chandelier overhead, holding many candles, swayed gently, and numerous candles fell.

"Hmph—"

Gregor Clegane had accidentally hit the wall, but he was unharmed, merely shaking his head a little and letting out a dull cold grunt.

"This…"

Next to The Mountain, Illyrio, holding his thigh with one hand, his face looking worse than if he had been crying.

He never imagined that the two would end up fighting near him.

However, luckily, The Mountain's eyes were only focused on Viserys, not even sparing a glance for the man beside him.

He then patted the armor on his body, but at this moment, the giant's palm paused slightly.

"Hm?"

Because he saw a long scratch on his waist's armor.

On the other side.

Swoosh—

Viserys slid quite a distance away, his fingers digging into the ground to regain his balance.

"Almost there."

Viserys then stood up and took a deep breath.

The ribbon he used to tie his hair had somehow broken, and his long silver hair was spread out behind him.

At this moment.

"Roar—"

Sir Gregor Clegane on the other side seemed a bit embarrassed.

Without sparing a glance at the trembling Illyrio next to him, he roared and once again lunged at Viserys with his greatsword.

He wanted to tear this silver-haired boy to shreds.

"Boy! Not only did I ravish his woman, but I also smashed his son's skull!"

"What can you do to me?"

The towering giant lunged at him, and Viserys, again, did not dodge but met him with his sword.

But he did not clash head-on with The Mountain, instead skillfully deflecting his vertical chop from the side.

Clang—

The sound of metal colliding echoed piercingly throughout the hall, with many nearby Pentoshi soldiers covering their ears.

Clang, clang, clang—

Subsequently, sparks flew from the violent collision of metal, and the long swords constantly interweaved.

Viserys, during the fight, seized an opportunity, thrusting his sword towards The Mountain's chest.

Thump—

Although it went in, it did not penetrate but was blocked by the heavy armor.

"Such thick armor—"

The Mountain's massive body also staggered back a couple of steps, then he lifted his foot to kick out.

Thump—

Viserys crossed his arms in front of his chest, his body rolling backward somewhat awkwardly to dissolve the force.

Still, his arms and chest felt a burning pain.

The Mountain's powerful kick nearly broke his arm.

Chapter 213: Counterattack

'That's quite the thick armor.'

Viserys panted heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he reached up to wipe away the trace of blood from the corner of his mouth.

He had been caught off guard earlier, thinking he could seize the opportunity to pierce his opponent's heart with a sword, but he hadn't expected the Mountain's armor to be so thick.

Gregor Clegane, though known as 'The Worst Man in the Seven Kingdoms', is exceedingly afraid of death and retribution. As a result, the armor he wears into battle is incredibly heavy.

Aside from the outer layer of plate armor, he also wears a layer of chain mail underneath, and the innermost layer consists of boiled leather armor and lined clothing, amounting to three layers in total.

Such triple layered armor would be near impossible for an ordinary person to even put on, and even a trained knight would struggle to move in such heavy armor.

But the Mountain is clearly an exception. Even in such heavy triple-layered armor, he can still freely move and fight.

So, even though Viserys' godly weapon is as sharp as Valyrian steel, he couldn't pierce the Mountain's armor from the chest, a heavily protected vital area, with a single strike.

'I raped his woman, killed his children!'

'And now, by the order of Lord Tywin, I will crush your skull too!'

Viserys, kneeling on the ground and panting heavily, heard the Mountain roar and charge at him once again, swinging his sword down.

'Die!'

Viserys, still kneeling, holds his sword in one hand, watching as the Mountain's sword comes crashing down.

But instead of clashing with him directly, he rolls to the left, once again dodging his attack.

Clang—

The greatsword hits the ground, creating a loud sound.

Viserys rolls to the side, his counterattack is swift.

Clang—

He swings his sword, aiming for Gregor Clegane's wrist, hoping to sever his sword-wielding hand.

But the Mountain, despite his enormous size and unrivaled ferocity, is not a mindless brute.

It would be a big mistake to think that the Mountain relies solely on his physical condition and is completely inept at swordsmanship.

Clang—

Gregor Clegane blocks Viserys' attack.

However, his greatsword bears a new scar.

The Mountain's greatsword, too, was forged by a master smith at great expense. Although it can't compare to Valyrian steel, it's still a fine weapon.

But this weapon is greatly suppressed when it comes across a godly weapon on par with Valyrian steel.

Gregor Clegane's face under the flat-topped helmet darkens upon seeing this.

Whoosh—

At that moment, Viserys seizes an opportunity to roll forward.

His silver-gold hair flows, and his longsword swings accurately into the gap of the Mountain's armor.

Thud—

The cold longsword pierces flesh, causing a strong burning sensation as if a flame were burning on the wound.

In the next second, it cuts cruelly across the Mountain's waist.

Hiss—

'Hmm!'

Gregor Clegane lets out a painful grunt.

Blood instantly gushes from the slit in the armor, staining the cold iron red.

Viserys rolls forward, stabbing the Mountain with his sword, and then stands up from the ground, his sword bloodied, and his silver-gold hair hanging down his back.

..."

["Huff..."

"Huff..."

Viserys's chest rose and fell gently with heavy breaths, but his pale purple eyes glinted with icy resolve.

"What did you just say...what have you done?"

"Ser Gregor, if I may?"

Thud—

The giant nearing eight feet tall and weighing thirty stone collapsed instantly, his heavy ironclad figure dropping to one knee.

"Hmph—"

Cold sweat trickled down from beneath Gregor Clegane's flat-topped helm, his muscular cheek twisted in pain as he let out a low growl.

This was indeed one of his unavoidable weaknesses.

Gregor Clegane's towering stature made him somewhat clumsy against Viserys's ground tactics.

Moreover, the other's swordsmanship was extremely precise, clearly tutored by a master. After a failed first attempt, he seized the opportunity in the second bout, piercing the gap in Clegane's armor with unerring accuracy.

It reminded him of the silver-haired young man who had knighted him personally.

The world remembered Rhaegar's melancholic melodies, but the Mountain remembered Rhaegar's exquisite art of killing.

Crack—

As Gregor Clegane fell injured, kneeling on the ground, his armor clanged loudly. He gasped for air, his cold armor stained red with blood that streamed down his thigh onto the ground.

All this happened so suddenly.

The onlooking Pentoshi soldiers didn't react immediately.

Then, there was an uproar.

"This..."

"How is this possible?"

The distant Pentoshi Magisters had not expected this turn of events either.

Just moments ago, Ser Gregor Clegane was firmly in control, even kicking the Mad King's son so hard that he spat blood.

But in an instant, the seemingly invincible Mountain, who seemed almost impossible to defeat, had collapsed?

The Magisters whispered among themselves.

They had initially thought they were merely watching a play with a predetermined ending, but they hadn't expected such a dramatic twist just before the end.

However, some of the more experienced Pentoshi Magisters saw through it. The Hoare Magister, whose family was in the weapons and armor business, noticed some clues and spoke up.

"The sword in the Mad King's son's hand might not be ordinary, perhaps it's a Valyrian steel sword."

He had noticed the Mountain being outmatched in terms of weaponry, losing out in several collisions.

While Gregor Clegane had an overwhelming advantage in terms of equipment against Viserys, who was merely wearing a suit of light leather armor, this disadvantage also translated into a crushing advantage in terms of agility.

The Mountain, in his heavy armor, might have fared well against ordinary weapons, but against a Valyrian steel sword, his defense might not be as sturdy as he had imagined.

Vital areas like the chest and back might still be protected, but weaker joint areas were as vulnerable as paper against a Valyrian steel sword.

...

And on the battlefield...

"Well done, Your Majesty!"

"Go! Kill him!"

Illyrio was overjoyed at this scene, shouting commands.

However, Viserys paid him no heed. He stood behind the Mountain, his icy gaze fixated on this colossal figure half-kneeling on the ground.

Then, he squinted slightly, and said calmly,

"Ser Gregor, why are you so quiet now?"

Viserys's words were taunting, and he could clearly see the Mountain's fist clenching slightly, seemingly enraged.

However, despite his taunting words, Viserys did not let down his guard for a moment.

He knew that this giant would not go down just because he had bled a little.

Chapter 214: Defeat

Then.

Viserys took a step forward, raising his sword as if intending to end his opponent's life from behind.

However, it seemed as though the Mountain had been waiting for this moment.

"Roar—"

Hearing Viserys approach, this colossal beast fiercely grabbed his enormous sword from the ground and let out a roar, sweeping his blade towards the sound behind him.

This was in fact a trap set by Gregor Clegane.

Pretending to be unable to rise, he aimed to capitalize on Viserys' carelessness following his perceived victory, intending to split the loathsome lad in two with a single swing.

However, much to his disappointment, Viserys seemed to have anticipated this.

With a swift sidestep, he once again avoided the Mountain's surprise attack.

Swoosh—

But Gregor Clegane, taking advantage of Viserys' retreat, struggled to his feet.

This towering hulk wasn't just muscular with superior swordsmanship, he was also extremely cunning.

He tried to bait Viserys, but Viserys wasn't easily fooled.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

As the Mountain stood, his vast body heaved with his heavy breathing.

Blood still flowed from the wound on his waist where the longsword had struck, staining his black, cold armor with a purplish hue.

"Damned whelp!"

"Today, I will kill you!"

Then, Gregor Clegane once again let out a low roar of fury, his stark black and white eyes filled with madness.

Despite the intense pain at his waist and the blood continuously flowing, he lifted his massive sword and charged once again at Viserys.

The commands of some damned Magister, even if it were Lord Tywin speaking here, would be useless against the Mountain's ferocious temperament.

Today, Ser Gregor Clegane would tear this detestable silver-haired boy to shreds.

The Mountain, wounded and enraged, seemed even faster than in his prime, charging at Viserys like a furious brown bear.

However, facing the clearly enraged Mountain, Viserys remained remarkably calm.

Sigh~

The young man let out a soft breath, then sidestepped the Mountain's charge once again, not forgetting to taunt him.

"Mountain, is that all you've got?"

"Die!"

However, Gregor Clegane ignored Viserys' taunts, continuing his frenzied sweeping of his sword.

"In an instant—"

In the face of this attack, Viserys' eyes flickered with a soft purple glow as he activated his extraordinary ability.

Gregor Clegane's attack appeared incredibly slow in his vision.

Viserys easily sidestepped once again, avoiding the opponent's furious swing.

Then, his longsword again found its mark, accurately piercing through the gaps in the armor into Gregor Clegane's thigh.

Splurt—

Under the palace hall's firelight, the twilight glimmered with the color of the setting sun on his sword, which was stained with the Mountain's blood.

Then, unimpeded, it pierced through his thigh once again.

The battle had become entirely one-sided.

Clang.

With the sound of armor and sword friction, Viserys' sword pierced through the Mountain's thigh, then he effortlessly withdrew his blade and retreated.

"Roar—"

This time, the Mountain truly let out a cry of pain.

Boom.

Like pushing over a mountain of gold and a pillar of jade, he collapsed once again, falling to his knees.

The enormous sword in his hand clattered to the ground, falling a short distance away.

Gregor Clegane was on his knees, both hands on the ground, his helmet slick with beads of sweat as large as beans.

Drip-drip-drip, sweat fell from his helmet's eye slits and breathing holes, hitting the ground.

"Ser Gregor Clegane!"

"What do you think you've accomplished?"

.

"Keep going!"

Yet now, the entire Palace of the Prince of Pentos fell into silence.

Nobody expected this outcome, that Viserys would indeed defeat this terrifying foe, accomplishing a battle that seemed nearly impossible.

And from afar, the magisters of Pentos, standing high above, witnessed this scene with their eyes widened in disbelief, their throats feeling a bit parched.

"The Mad King's son... could he truly be a 'true dragon'?"

Dragons had been extinct for over a hundred years, and just when people started believing they would never return, Viserys hatched them.

Although this feat was accomplished by his sister Daenerys, people were still willing to believe that it was a sign of divine favor.

The Faith of the Seven claimed Viserys was an emissary of the Seven Gods, that the merciful Father Above had crowned him.

The people of Lys believed that Viserys was the son of the Mother Rhoyne, receiving the favor of heaven and earth.

Meanwhile, the followers of R'hllor, under the influence of Melisandre, believed Viserys to be the son of the sun, the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, who would one day wield Lightbringer to vanquish R'hllor's enemies and save the world.

These Princes of Pentos had never seen a dragon, including Illyrio. They had merely heard that the Targaryens had hatched dragons again and wished to seize them.

But now, after Viserys had performed an incredible battle, defeating Ser Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane, it was all too real for them to see.

"Alright, the farce is over."

The old magister with white hair spoke at this moment.

They originally thought it would be a one-sided battle, so they did not stop it. However, Viserys's sudden victory stirred a sense of unease in the old magister.

The old man took a deep breath, preparing to command the end of this game and take Viserys directly.

But at that moment.

Boom—

The palace doors were flung open, and a soldier of Pentos, covered in blood, staggered in from outside the hall.

"Magister!"

"Something terrible has happened!"

...

The Andals have breached the city.

The 200 royal guards led by Viserys were the elite forces selected from various legions, equipped with excellent armor and weapons, naturally possessing formidable combat power.

The Pentoshi underestimated the combat power of these Andal soldiers, and their palace gates were breached in an instant.

Then the battling parties tangled within the palace. Viserys was deep inside the palace, which bought them some time.

But now, Viserys's loyal guards have fought their way in, ready to greet their king.

"What?"

"Damn it, are you all useless!"

Upon hearing this terrible news, the faces of the Pentoshi magisters changed.

"Quick!"

"Take the Mad King's son as a hostage first!"

Then, the magisters of Pentos hastily ordered to take Viserys as a hostage. As long as they had Viserys, even if these people broke in, there would be no major trouble.

However, when it rains, it pours.

Boom—

At that moment, the palace ceiling suddenly shook violently, as if something enormous had landed on the palace roof.

Dust from the ceiling fell down in flurries.

Among the Pentoshi soldiers surrounding Viserys, about a dozen unexpectedly turned traitor without any warning.

Clang—

These men suddenly drew the long swords from their waists and thrust them at their colleagues.

"Kill them!"

"Protect Prince Viserys!"

One of the men with blue hair These men suddenly drew the long swords from their waists and thrust them at their colleagues.

"Kill them!"

"Protect Prince Viserys!"

One of the men, with blue hair and a resolute face, shouted loudly.

...

Chapter 215: Jon

The Andals burst in from outside, and a sudden rebellion arose within the palace.

"Kill!"

A dozen Pentoshi soldiers suddenly drew their swords and stabbed their colleagues beside them.

Thud thud thud--

The Pentoshi soldiers were completely unprepared, and the sudden betrayal was like a massacre. They suffered heavy losses in an instant, falling into pools of blood.

"Hey, what are you doing!"

Someone was both shocked and angry, drawing his sword to counterattack.

However, he was immediately pierced through the heart from behind.

"Ah--"

A long sword penetrated his chest, the tip of the sword protruding from his chest, and he screamed in agony.

…

Suddenly betrayed, the Pentoshi fell into chaos, unable to distinguish friend from foe.

Viserys, witnessing this scene, slightly raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Is this...reinforcements?"

Viserys didn't expect to have his own reinforcements within the enemy's ranks.

Were these the men from the Windblown? Or was this Melisandre's arrangement?

However, while Viserys was surprised, Illyrio, standing beside him clutching his thigh, relaxed slightly. Then he cracked a smile, one that looked worse than crying.

"These are the reinforcements I arranged, Your Grace."

This was the contingency plan Illyrio had prepared in advance.

He had anticipated that there might be surprises at this banquet, so he had arranged for his confidants to infiltrate the Prince's Palace.

This was why Illyrio told Viserys before the banquet started that no matter what happened, he should follow Illyrio's arrangements.

Then Illyrio looked at the other side.

A man with blue hair was wearing earth-yellow armor and white sleeves, and he wore a long, pointed helmet. He was dressed as a member of the Pentos city guard and looked to be about thirty years old.

"Griff, you're late."

Illyrio complained.

"Griff?"

When Viserys heard Illyrio's words, he also turned his head to look at the newcomer.

"Hm?"

Viserys paused slightly, feeling a strange sense of familiarity with this man named Griff, as if he had seen him somewhere before.

But perhaps too many years had passed, and Viserys could no longer remember clearly.

"Sorry."

Griff muttered an apology, but the city guard captain named 'Griff' didn't even glance at Illyrio.

His swordsmanship was excellent, obviously having received strict training. He had been lying in ambush in the crowd and suddenly launched an attack, killing several Pentoshi soldiers with slashes and cuts.

Then Griff turned his head, his gaze fixed on Viserys as he took a closer look, then inhaled deeply and spoke.

"Your Grace."

Viserys, having noticed something familiar about Griff, continued to scrutinize him, but didn't rush to speak.

Griff.

Viserys's deep purple eyes flickered, considering this name.

He placed his longsword, stained with Gregor's blood, on his elbow, clamping it tightly and drawing it out, gently wiping off the blood on the blade.

Snap--

He then sheathed his sword back into its scabbard, finally looking up and calmly asking.

"You just addressed me as the second prince."

"Are you Jon?"

...

"And this 'Griffin,' in the face of Viserys' straightforward question, momentarily altered his countenance.

He hadn't expected the Second Prince to be so sharp, catching even the smallest of slips.

Only the old retainers, those who were once loyal to House Targaryen, and who had served in King's Landing or even the Red Keep, would still address Viserys as 'Your Royal Highness.'

This was a title that had become incredibly distant to him, and there were even fewer people who would subconsciously address him in such a way now.

However, the 'Griffin' subtly changed his demeanor, but still did not openly admit his identity.

'Your Majesty, the situation is dire.'

'Some things can be discussed in detail once we are out. For now, we should focus on breaking out of here.'

'Flee?'

Viserys slightly raised his eyebrows, then calmly shook his head.

'There's no need to flee.'

'What?'

Upon hearing Viserys' words, the 'Griffin' displayed a hint of confusion.

And then, at that moment.

BOOM—

The ceiling of the palace resounded once again with a tremendous sound, as if a gigantic creature was violently battering against the palace.

CRACK—

The sturdy walls and ceiling of the palace cracked instantly, dust and debris falling in a flurry, showering the people of Pentos below in chaos.

'What's happening?'

'Is there something on top of the palace?'

The people of Pentos, now in a state of turmoil, looked up in bewilderment, murmuring in surprise and uncertainty.

They had no idea what was happening outside the palace.

At this moment, the soldiers of Pentos were in a state of utter panic.

They couldn't even differentiate friend from foe, as everywhere they looked they saw soldiers in identical armor engaged in battle.

And the Magisters of Pentos were also in disagreement.

Some were ordering their soldiers to seize Viserys, while others, sensing the inevitable, were attempting to slip out the back door amidst the chaos.

'Quick—'

'Get me out of here.'

Among them was the Magister who had just provoked Viserys, the young man was now profusely sweating, his heart pounding in his chest.

He had a bad premonition.

However, these Magisters who wanted to escape, guarded by their soldiers, hadn't even reached the back door when...

BOOM—

Another violent crash sounded, the impact was like a heavy hammer hitting everyone's heart, causing an involuntary gasp.

Even the slowest to react could now sense that something was terribly wrong.

'Outside—'

But before they could complete their thought.

In the next second.

BOOM!

The palace's ceiling and walls were finally shattered by the violent impact, debris flying everywhere.

A huge section of the wall collapsed, looming over the people below like a giant hand, and in their horrified eyes, it buried those Magisters and soldiers attempting to escape.

RUMBLE—

The rising dust cloud filled the air, causing everyone inside the great hall to cover their mouths and noses, breaking into violent coughing fits.

'Cough, cough, cough...'

'What's happening? What on earth is going on?'

The elderly Magister, surrounded by his guards, couldn't help but ask.

They didn't know what had happened, but suddenly, one side of the palace wall and ceiling had collapsed.

And then.

'ROAR—'

Under the dark night sky.

A low, hoarse roar of a dragon abruptly echoed in everyone's ears.

...

Chapter 216: The Dragon Descends

A low, gravelly roar pierces through the rolling dust, echoing beneath the narrow sky, ringing in the ears of every individual present.

The grand hall falls silent in an instant.

Everyone thinks their ears are playing tricks on them, then cautiously ask,

"What was that sound?"

"Did... did something just roar?"

'Griff' stands with his longsword drawn, bravely shielding Viserys.

"What was that noise?"

He is certain that he did not mishear, but rather, heard the very real growl of some sort of beast.

"Your Grace, please stand behind me!"

Even though the smoke and dust obscured his vision, he remained alert. One hand held his sword, the other covered his mouth and nose, his eyes vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

Yet, the next second.

Whoosh~

A gust of winter wind blew.

The smoke and dust from the collapsed palace began to gradually dissipate.

Those who had been choking and coughing finally lifted their ash-covered faces.

Then they witnessed a terrifying sight.

"This..."

All the soldiers of Pentos stared blankly at the massive shadow looming overhead, a colossal figure of at least several dozen feet long on top of the palace ruins.

"This is..."

Click…

Everyone tightly gripped their weapons, sweat seeping into their palms without them even realizing. Then, they all swallowed hard in unison, their throats rolling with apprehension.

..."

"Under the bright moonlight.

A colossal creature, spanning several dozen feet in length, emerged at the top of the palace ruins. Its sharp dragon claws firmly gripped the remaining rubble that hadn't collapsed.

Whoosh...

The creature spread its enormous wings, nearly blotting out the sky. The black dragon raised its long neck high and let out another low, raspy roar.

"Roar..."

The sound was not violent or hysterical.

Yet, this calm, deep roar possessed an unmatched piercing power, clearly penetrating everyone's eardrums and striking deep into their souls.

Aside from Viserys, nearly everyone involuntarily shuddered.

"Dragon..."

Someone voiced the word first, breaking the deathly silence that had settled over the scene.

"Dragon!"

It was like a bomb detonated in a lake, instantly stirring up a massive wave.

"This is a dragon!"

A voice filled with terror and even a sobbing tone rang out. All the soldiers of Pentos trembled, as if their souls had only just returned to their bodies.

They had never seen a dragon before, for the dragons had disappeared before their generation was born. Yet, everyone knew now that this was a dragon.

Viserys had brought his dragon.

In an instant, the morale of the Pentoshi forces collapsed.

All the Pentoshi soldiers came to their senses, but none dared to point their weapons at this terrifying creature, for that would be a path to certain death.

"Run!"

The next second.

The soldiers of Pentos scattered and fled in all directions, their footsteps chaotic, their screams and shouts filled with panic.

"Run!"

Seeing that resistance was futile, the Pentoshi magistrates who were preparing to sneak away were buried in the ruins.

Those Pentoshi magistrates who hadn't escaped were now plunged into despair.

Thump...

An old magistrate with white hair, witnessing this scene, plopped down onto the ground. His eyes stared blankly ahead, his voice choked with sorrow.

..."

"It's over."

He never imagined that Viserys would actually bring a dragon, and what was even more unexpected was that this dragon had grown so large.

This was an oversight in the intelligence gathered by the magistrates of Pentos. They had all been sitting in their gardens, receiving information from their spies.

But since Viserys began focusing on internal affairs, the spies hidden by Andalos had been uprooted one after another, serving as a deterrent to others.

The remaining intelligence lines hidden in Andalos had become low-key or even completely dormant.

The dragon was Andalos's most important secret.

Therefore, Viserys had specifically designated a large area outside the city of Andalos as the 'King's Wood', prohibiting all commoners and hunters from hunting or playing there.

This 'King's Wood' was specifically provided for the three young dragons to live and dwell in, and they rarely ventured out into the world.

Because of this, the magistrates of Pentos had a delay in their information about the dragons. In their intelligence, Viserys' largest black dragon, Balerion, seemed to be no bigger than a small horse.

But now...

The bright moon hung high in the sky, and the winter night was cold.

After the palace was demolished by the massive dragon, the winter sea breeze of Pentos came rushing in without any hindrance.

But what made them feel even colder were their hearts.

"Roar..."

Under the bright moonlight, the enormous dragon let out a low growl. Balerion's body was covered with ferocious scales, and molten lava flowed within the crevices of the scales.

It was watching the scattering Pentoshi soldiers below.

The next second.

Boom!

A dazzling pillar of red fire descended from the sky.

"Roar..."

Balerion still let out a roar. The surging flames directly engulfed the soldiers who were running away in panic.

"Ah!"

The scattering soldiers of Pentos let out desperate wails and screams, then they were swallowed by the sea of fire, struggling as they fell.

But the dragonfire from Balerion did not just stay in one place.

The graceful, long neck was raised high, and the dazzling, blinding pillar of fire continued to surge forward, engulfing more of the scattering Pentoshi soldiers.

"It's over."

The old, white-haired magistrate still sat on the ground. His eyes were filled with the pillar of fire spewed by the dragon, and he repeated a single word with a vacant expression.

"Lord Magistrate!"

..."

"We still have a chance! It's not over yet!"

His guard, loyal to the old man, grabbed the Magister's clothes and pleaded loudly.

"We can bend the knee! We can negotiate with His Majesty the King!"

"But if we die here, we'll have nothing left!"

The dazed Magister heard his guard's plea. Surrounded by roaring flames, his chapped lips quivered slightly and his eyes gradually regained their vitality.

"Yes..."

"You're right... we can bend the knee, we can still negotiate with His Majesty."

The Magister tightly gripped the arm of his guard, as if clinging to a lifeline.

"Quick!"

"Get me out of here! To the castle!"

There was a fortress within the Prince's Palace prepared for war, extremely sturdy.

This stronghold had never been used since its construction.

Because no one could penetrate the city before Pentos surrendered.

But at this time, it could come in handy.

The loyal guard of the Magister, hearing the old man's words, didn't hesitate and immediately gestured.

"Quick! Get the Magister out of here!"

A few loyal guards then lifted the Magister and made a dash for it through the sea of fire.

The other surviving Magisters and their guards, now leaderless, upon seeing this, hurriedly followed the old Magister in their escape.

...

Meanwhile, outside.

At this moment.

"Victory is within our grasp."

The Beggar Prince stood on a tower of the city walls of Pentos.

This place was a high point in the city of Pentos, overseeing most of the urban area.

Now, the chaos of Pentos was all in his sight.

At that moment.

Boom—

A dazzling pillar of red fire descended from the sky in the distance, crashing onto the Prince's Palace, submerging the grand pavilions and palaces in a sea of fire.

The Beggar Prince's heart tightened slightly.

...

Chapter 217: No, You Haven't Forgotten

"Dragons."

The Ragged Prince clenched his fist.

Watching the huge silhouette of the dragon flying around the palace in the distance, occasionally lowering its altitude to spew out large pillars of red flames.

The entire palace of Pentos was engulfed in flames, and then the huge black shadow once again flapped its wings towards the sky.

"It's terrifying."

The shock of witnessing a dragon in battle firsthand deeply imprinted in the Ragged Prince's heart. He had never thought war could be so simple.

At the same time, a vague concern lingered in his heart.

He didn't know how to deal with such a formidable foe?

He was glad that he didn't have the opportunity to face a dragon head-on at the moment, otherwise he was unsure of what kind of humiliating state he might reveal. Would he throw down his weapons and surrender, or soil his breeches in fear?

The grey-haired old man then took a deep breath, his beard trembling slightly, but his mouth uttered insincere words.

"The divine power of dragons is indeed irresistible to ordinary soldiers. No wonder everyone is so eager to have dragons."

"These magisters lost their lives because of their greed."

"Thank the Father for teaching us that greed is a sin."

The Ragged Prince gently tapped the railing he was gripping, then turned his head slightly to glance at the figure hidden in a cloak behind him.

He then continued.

"Congratulations, Your Grace, on acquiring this gem of the bay."

The Ragged Prince was born in Pentos, a city-state with multiple faiths, including the Moon Singers, the Red Priests, as well as those who worship the Black Goat, the Lady of Lys, and so on.

The Faith of the Seven was a minor group in Pentos, so the Ragged Prince was not particularly interested in it.

However, after making a 'deal' on the black ship, the Ragged Prince kneeled to Viserys.

Since then, the gray-haired old man spent his leisure time flipping through a couple of books on the doctrines of the Seven, hoping to have more common topics with Viserys.

What the Ragged Prince didn't know was that Viserys wasn't particularly devout to the gods, he just put on a good show.

The figure standing behind the Ragged Prince at this time raised his head.

The face revealed under the hood was Ramsay Snow's, full of gloom.

"Pentos is indeed a beautiful and rich place."

The young man with long black hair chuckled lowly, then continued.

"I also want to congratulate you, Prince, on returning to your homeland."

The Ragged Prince also showed a slight smile and nodded. His mood seemed good, after all, returning to Pentos had always been his lifelong wish.

"But..."

However, Ramsay hadn't finished speaking, his chilly voice paused here.

Then he brought up another matter.

"But although you have returned to Pentos, the great vengeance of the past has not been avenged."

"Hm?"

Upon hearing Ramsay's words, the Ragged Prince's face slightly changed. He had a bad premonition.

Ramsay didn't look at the Ragged Prince's changing expression and continued.

"Those magisters who forced you to leave Pentos all those years ago are long dead. The magisters in the palace may have been reduced to ashes by now..."

"But to root out the weed, their families are still struggling to survive."

"Ramsay's voice was calm, yet it sent a chill through the heart of the Beggar Prince.

The silver-haired elder, after all, had spent thirty years navigating the disputed territories, his mastery over concealing his emotions was impeccable. Despite the cold terror gripping his heart, he appeared entirely nonchalant.

"I have long forgotten the hatred of those years," he said.

"It's just hard to leave one's homeland..."

The Beggar Prince feigned a sigh before explaining.

However, upon hearing the Prince's words, Ramsay shook his head, dismissing his perspective.

"No."

"Prince, you have never forgotten that hatred."

Chaos still reigned in the city of Pentos. Fires blazed, cries of battle filled the air, and in the distance, dragons soared, spewing flames at the city below.

In a tower atop the walls of Pentos, all was silent.

"I..."

The Beggar Prince widened his eyes at the sight of the raven-haired youth before him, his mouth agape as if to insist he had forgotten.

But in the end, he swallowed his words.

He was merely courteous to the young man because he represented Viserys. The bastard before him surely wouldn't dare to make decisions for Viserys.

So, this must be Viserys' intention...

The Beggar Prince gazed wide-eyed at Ramsay, who returned his stare with a calm smile.

After a long silent standoff, the Beggar Prince finally conceded, his grey head nodding slightly. His voice, tinged with exhaustion, admitted:

"You're right, Lord Ramsay."

"I haven't forgotten that hatred."

...

Tonight would be a sleepless one for the people of Pentos.

The battle in the Prince's palace had already turned one-sided with the arrival of the dragons, and the Andals had broken through.

The princes of Pentos had been buried alive or killed, and a few, under the cover of smoke and flames, had fled to the strongholds under the protection of their guards.

The city of Pentos was still in the throes of a fierce battle, far from over, escalating instead.

Mercenaries and the city watch were still clashing. The streets were littered with fighting figures and bodies, still warm.

Meanwhile, countless ill-intentioned figures took advantage of the chaos.

Boom —

A door to a shop was kicked open.

A group of masked mercenaries rushed in, killing the shop owner with two swift strokes. They tossed the child into a water vat, then assaulted the woman of the house before the vat. In the end, they plundered the wealth of the place.

No sooner had these mercenaries exited the shop than they bumped into the bloodthirsty Windblown mercenaries.

The tall 'beauty', Meris, upon seeing the beasts' actions, roared in anger, drawing her greatsword and charging forward.

"Meris!"

The rest of the Windblown were startled and tried to stop their confessor, but they were too late.

With Meris already charging into the fray, they had no choice but to draw their swords and join her.

The Windblown were nosy, and these bandits weren't pushovers either.

Cling-clang —

And so the two groups of mercenaries started clashing on the street.

This was the current chaotic situation in Pentos. The city watch fought with mercenaries, mercenaries fought with mercenaries, and sometimes the city watch and mercenaries jointly looted, vandalized, and set fires.

In the end, if the city watch won tonight, they could pin the blame on the mercenaries.

And if the mercenaries lost, they would lose their lives and had nothing to fear.

Chapter 218: Rooting Out

"Hmm—"

The dragon's roar was still far from here.

In a mansion within the city of Pentos.

The place was brightly lit, with all the mansion guards on high alert, ready to fend off any mercenaries who might storm into the mansion and disturb the lady and young master.

The center of Pentos was a coveted area, with foreigners coming to Pentos finding it difficult to afford a home there even after a lifetime of work.

A small room sufficient for one person in the city could be traded for a small manor with a courtyard outside the city.

Yet this mansion was located in the heart of Pentos, and it was sprawling, boasting a garden, a scenic pool, and pavilions, adorned with the utmost luxury.

It was clearly the kind of mansion that only a wealthy merchant in Pentos could possess.

This was the residence of a Pentos Magister. The Green family's primary business was mining, and they owned several key copper and iron mines in Norvos.

The Magister Green had a good relationship with the Magister who monopolized the trade of weapons and armors in Pentos, and the two had been seen together quite frequently recently.

Magister Hoare often visited Magister Green, after which they would hold private conversations.

Even Mrs. Green did not know what they were discussing, and why even she was not privy to it. Every time she asked, Magister Green would impatiently dismiss her.

However, tonight.

Her husband had not returned, and for some reason, there was sudden chaos outside. Everywhere there was chaos, with the sound of battle ringing out.

Magister Green's young son, barely four or five years old, the little lord of the family, was crying out in fear. The Magister's wife was in a state of panic and the guards she had sent out to find her husband had not returned.

The guard who had gone out to gather intelligence did return, but he too had no idea what had happened.

In any case, there was fighting everywhere, as if the mercenaries and the garrison had gone mad.

The garrison fought with the mercenaries, mercenaries fought with each other, and some banded together to loot and burn.

Under such circumstances, Mrs. Green gritted her teeth, suspecting that something untoward might have happened to her husband.

Though Mrs. Green did not know exactly what her husband was plotting, she had heard a bit about it. This issue might have something to do with the Targaryen king who arrived not long ago.

Finally, Mrs. Green made up her mind. She no longer sent people out to search and rescue her husband. Instead, she ordered the entire mansion to be locked down, with the doors tightly shut and on strict guard.

However, after Mrs. Green gave the order to lock down the entire mansion, she fell into a state of indecision. The city was in turmoil, and she had just heard that many shops had been looted and burned.

While the Green family mainly dealt in mining, they also had some tertiary industry assets in the city of Pentos, including brothels, taverns, inns, and two casinos.

These were also important sources of income for the family.

After hesitating for a while, Mrs. Green finally ordered half of the guards, including some Unsullied, to protect the family's assets.

In her heart, she was unsure, thinking that no one would dare to rob the mansion of a Magister...right?

But just at this moment.

Mrs. Green was holding her young son, trying to soothe him to sleep when she heard a commotion outside the front gate.

"Who goes there!"

The guard of the Green family warned sharply.

"This is the residence of Magister Green! You ruffians had better clear off at once!"

...

"However, the response he received was only a few cold arrows.

Whoosh, whoosh—

The arrows emitted a whistling sound, and with a thud, pierced the throat of the guard, causing him to swallow the rest of his warning.

Subsequently, his body swayed and fell from the high wall.

Accompanying the arrows, a large number of Windblown mercenaries surged from all directions.

Boom—

Next, they used logs from unknown origins to smash open the main gate, charging straight into Magister Green's mansion.

The Unsullied and Magister's guard slaves began to fight the Windblown mercenaries in the garden.

The young Mrs. Green, holding her son, was panicked and wanted to hide in the basement, but she was caught by a few Windblown mercenaries brandishing their swords.

"I told you so, the boss has finally come to his senses."

Then, several mercenaries laughed and came over, snatching her son from Mrs. Green's arms.

Clang—

Another Windblown mercenary skillfully drew a gleaming dagger from his waist.

For the mercenaries, such complete extermination of a family was just a part of their routine.

Mrs. Green, seeing this, cried out trying to reclaim her son.

However, she was held back by another mercenary, who ripped open her clothes.

...

And such scenes were also taking place in other Magister's mansions in Pentos.

Boom—

Doors were being smashed open, countless Windblown mercenaries rushed in, shouting in the name of revenge for the Ragged Prince, swinging their swords mercilessly, killing the families of these Magisters, and stuffing their pockets full of gold coins.

The immense wealth almost blinded the mercenaries.

Although they had tried to imagine how much the Magisters of Pentos had exploited the common people by monopolizing every industry, their imaginations were ultimately not rich enough.

Then, this massive wealth was transported to the carriages box by box.

And the Ragged Prince was not a stingy man. After gaining such an astonishing wealth, he spent it lavishly, and almost every member of the Windblown made a fortune. In addition to what they stuffed in their pockets, they could live worry-free for several generations, and their faces were all smiles.

However, the Ragged Prince himself did not seem as happy as he appeared on the surface. The grey-haired old man was riding on a warhorse, and then the smile on his face gradually faded.

In fact, compared to distributing money to his brothers, he would rather cooperate with these families.

Because he was born among them, although he was later forced to become a mercenary, the Ragged Prince never saw himself as a commoner. His blood was noble, and deep inside, he looked down on his brothers somewhat.

This was a deep-rooted idea in his heart. He left Pentos in his twenties, and it was not something that could be changed in a few decades.

The Ragged Prince's previous calculations were buzzing in his heart.

He wanted to truly rule Pentos, not merely serve as a puppet for Viserys.

...

Chapter 219: Jon Connington

Regrettably, the ragged prince's carefully laid plans had been shattered.

Though Viserys would hand over Pentos for him to govern as per their agreement, it would not be the whole of Pentos. This city, with its tremendous potential, if unified under one leader, would sooner or later become a thorn in his side.

The ragged prince's blade being brandished towards these Magister families signified his complete break with the deeply rooted traditional forces in Pentos, with no possibility of reconciliation.

Furthermore, the bloodshed and chaos of this night, the looting and arson, would all be attributed to the mercenaries' misdeeds by the common people of Pentos.

As the leader of the mercenaries who later ruled Pentos, the ragged prince naturally had no defense.

Actually, he had no way to refute it, because these were indeed sins committed by the Windblown.

The ragged prince might be able to control himself, but he could not suppress the evil thoughts of his more than two thousand brothers under his command.

People could not distinguish between the Windblown and other mercenaries, so all the blame was dumped on the ragged prince's head.

This was the trap Viserys had dug for the ragged prince.

However, even if the ragged prince knew this was a trap, and a pit of filth at that, he had to hold his nose and jump in.

The situation forced him.

If the ragged prince refused, without the support of House Targaryen behind him, he might not last long as the prince of Pentos and would be over all of this, Viserys was still the shining figure.

He had been betrayed and attacked by the Magisters, trampled on the sacred rights of guests, then rose up to kill these Magisters.

Viserys still held unparalleled prestige among the lower classes.

This was why he needed people like Ramsay.

He could do many things that were unsuitable for a king.

And he would willingly shoulder the blame and accusations.

...

Inside the half-collapsed prince's palace.

The situation had now reached its end. Balerion's dragonfire had killed a portion of the Pentos soldiers, while many others were scared off and scattered.

The Andal men killed their way in, and these soldiers of Pentos were partly killed, partly disarmed, and begging for mercy.

And those Magisters who wanted to flee were very unfortunate. Balerion's gaze was incredibly sharp, he could spot a rabbit in the bush from hundreds of meters high, so fire and thick smoke could not obstruct the dragon's vision, thus they were caught directly by Balerion.

Subsequently, several brave guards were torn apart, while the Magisters were turned into charred bodies by a blast of dragonfire.

"The dragon has not killed as many people as the soldiers, they were mostly scared off."

The man with blue hair followed beside Viserys, his bright armor reflecting a faint light in the fire.

He turned his head to look at Viserys, as if to remind him not to lose himself because he had a dragon. The most decisive factor in a war was still soldiers, not dragons.

Andal soldiers were walking around the battlefield, tidying up. The raging fire ignited by the surging dragonfire was still burning.

Viserys stepped over a charred corpse, it was the body of a Magister of Pentos, now almost unrecognizable.

"Hmm, I know."

...

"Viserys spoke without turning around, idly manipulating the skull on the ground with his sword scabbard.

The 'Mountain,' Gregor Clegane, who had been sent by Tywin in an attempt to assist the Magisters in assassinating Viserys, was now bound hand and foot.

He had been stabbed in the waist and thigh, his wounds still bleeding profusely, his greatsword dropped not far away.

When the soldiers had just prepared to subdue him, they had encountered this villain's attack, with two of them even getting injured.

However, no matter how arrogant the Mountain's demeanor, he had now fallen from grace.

His arms were tied behind his back, bound tightly with iron chains, almost digging into his flesh.

His helmet had been knocked off, revealing a head covered with scars that was so large it weighed ten pounds more than an average head.

There was a wound on his forehead, with blood staining half of his cheek, probably a result of him hitting the wall during his duel with Viserys.

The Mountain was tied up from head to toe, with all the ropes replaced by sturdier, heavier iron chains, for fear that this terrifying monster would break free and hurt people.

Even as he was being pushed past Viserys, his distinctly colored, terrifying eyes were fixed on him, breathing heavily with a muffled voice.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

However, the Mountain paused as he passed in front of Viserys, as if wanting to say something to him.

But Viserys didn't even raise his head, causing a slight twitch in the Mountain's cheek muscles.

In the end, he was prodded by a soldier's sword in his lower back and loudly scolded to leave.

The 'Griffin' watched this whole scene, his gaze fixed on the Mountain, briefly gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist, but ultimately let go.

"How... do you want to deal with the Mountain?" the man with the blue hair asked, taking a deep breath and turning his head to ask.

"He won't die easily," Viserys said calmly, reattaching the sword scabbard to his belt and lifting his head.

His gaze then fell on the face of this resolute man, sizing him up once again before speaking.

"Tell me about yourself, Griffin," Viserys said, slightly emphasizing the name 'Griffin' at the end.

He had seen this man ten years ago when Viserys was still the mischievous second prince in the Red Keep, which is why he found him somewhat familiar.

The man was then in his late teens, full of youthful vitality, quite unlike the downcast-looking, slightly wrinkled man he was now.

Time had indeed passed, and Viserys hadn't recognized him at first.

Jon Connington.

The young Earl of Griffin's Roost, who had served as hand to Viserys's father, the 'Mad King' Aerys, in his teens.

He was one of the few good friends of Viserys's elder brother Rhaegar, and the two young men were often together.

Jon Connington of that time was a proud, brave, passionate, fearless man who craved honor.

He was also a capable warrior and commander, even having a chance to kill Robert Baratheon and end the Rebellion during the War of the Usurper.

However, he was ultimately dismissed by Aerys II due to the defeat in the war, stripped of his lands and titles and exiled.

'Griffin' looked at Viserys, his lips moving slightly, and eventually, he let out a long sigh.

Chapter 220: The Night of Blood

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I am Jon Connington."

The knight, now clad in bright armor, had become considerably gaunt compared to his youth, but his eyes still glowed with vitality.

Then, the former Hand of the King to the Targaryen dynasty began to recount his story of how he was stripped of his titles and rank, then exiled from King's Landing.

After leaving King's Landing, Jon Connington boarded a ship and crossed the sea to another continent, arriving in the disputed lands and eventually joining the Golden Company.

He served the Golden Company for five years, and with his capabilities, he eventually rose to the position of right hand to the Captain-General of the Golden Company, Mys Toyn.

However, he later left the Golden Company.

"Left the Golden Company?"

While the soldiers cleaned the battlefield and extinguished the lingering flames within the hall, Viserys tilted his head.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"That was two years ago."

Jon Connington slightly nodded, confirming his decision to leave the Golden Company.

Even then, he had grown into a distinguished commander within the Golden Company, and if he hadn't left, he might have been the next Captain-General.

"Why?"

Viserys asked.

This time, Jon Connington took a long time to respond, finally taking a deep breath.

"Of course, it was because of you, Your Grace."

Viserys' eyebrows raised slightly.

"I've heard news of you in recent years, but at that time..."

Jon Connington paused, his hand on the hilt of his sword, the other open.

"I beg your pardon."

Viserys nodded.

"Speak your mind."

He gestured towards a relatively quiet spot not far away.

"Let's talk there."

This half-collapsed hall was at risk of complete collapse at any moment. Now, the soldiers of House Targaryan had taken complete control of the entire palace. The soldiers of Pentos were being saved where possible, and those beyond help were granted a quick death.

The body of the Prince of Pentos had been accounted for. All the Magisters of Pentos, except for Illyrio, had perished in this upheaval. Illyrio himself had been carried off for treatment due to a sword wound in his leg.

Now, only Viserys and Jon Connington remained.

The two men then left the crumbling palace and went to the gardens outside, where several torches were still burning.

"Your Grace."

A servant came forward with a heavy cloak and draped it over Viserys.

Viserys nodded, and the servant bowed and retreated.

The winter night in Pentos was piercingly cold, especially after a heavy snowfall a few days ago.

Standing there, looking into the distance, his black cloak fluttering in the wind, Viserys turned to look at Jon.

"Continue. What did you want to say?"

After the interruption, Jon Connington seemed to have organized his thoughts and nodded slightly before he spoke.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace, I believe you've heard about your father."

"I was somewhat indecisive when I first heard news about you..."

"Afraid I'd be the next 'Mad King'?"

Viserys didn't get angry at Jon Connington's words, just shook his head slightly.

Then, as if something had occurred to him, he turned to Jon and asked,

"Jon, are you alone now?"

Jon Connington was clearly taken aback, not understanding why Viserys would ask such a question, but after a moment's hesitation, he replied.

"No, Your Grace."

"I have a son."

."

...

The dawn of the next day.

Brilliant sunlight pierced through the clouds, bathing the bustling, prosperous city-state.

The Red Temple stood as resolute as ever, its glazed tiles reflecting a faint golden light.

After a night of turmoil.

Pentos finally returned to calm as the sun rose.

When the dragon soared in the sky, spewing a pillar of red fire, all the city guard soldiers of Pentos understood what had happened.

Upon hearing that all the magisters had been burnt to death, these Pentos soldiers all surrendered.

Everything that followed became much simpler.

The Targaryen soldiers, the Windblown, and the city guard of Pentos, the three forces jointly suppressed the chaos in the city, killing the opportunistic mercenaries, and hung their severed heads high on the city walls of Pentos.

However, for the ordinary Pentoshi, they did not know what had happened last night, only closing their doors and windows, afraid to show their heads.

Trembling until the dawn of the next day, hearing that the outside was quiet, they finally mustered up the courage to open the door and step out.

They then saw the heads hanging high on the city walls, almost a thousand in dense clusters.

But for this bloody night, far more people died than just these.

The streets were still filled with uncleared bodies and bloodstains, soldiers still patrolling the streets and alleys to maintain order.

"Harrumph——"

At this moment.

A deep, hoarse roar came from the sky, the civilians on the ground looked up in panic and then scattered in fear.

Whoosh~

Subsequently, a gust of wind blew on the ground as the dragon took off, casting a huge shadow.

The Prince's Palace had already been burnt down by Balerion, and Viserys appeared in a palace at the top of a cluster of nine towers near the bay.

Viserys was playing with a string of icy cool prayer beads, each one a priceless gem, wealth scavenged from the Prince's Palace.

"Khal Drogo."

For some reason, Viserys suddenly remembered this man who had died a long time ago and felt a sense of nostalgia.

Standing at the top level of the palace tower, from here he could take in the whole of Pentos at a glance, and by turning his head, he could also see the bustling ocean port and the Narrow Sea, whose waves never ceased, constantly beating against the shore.

Whoosh——

The piercing sea breeze roared, stirring the silver-golden hair of the young king.

Viserys, dressed in a loose, soft robe, stood at the top of the tower, playing with the prayer beads as he quietly gazed into the distance, then suddenly broke the silence.

"I remember you once said, Illyrio."

"Your greatest wish is to become the Master of Coin for the Iron Throne?"

Viserys, with his hand on the cold battlement, with the sea wind stirring his hair, asked in a calm voice.

And Illyrio, whose thigh was tightly bandaged, was sitting on a chair in the room, a cane by his side. He gave a bitter smile at Viserys's words.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Viserys nodded slightly.

"From today, you are the Master of Coin, if you don't mind the absence of that chair."

Illyrio's face suddenly showed a look of surprise, and he quickly nodded.

"Of course! Of course! That chair will be yours eventually."

"Thank you for your trust, Your Grace."

At this moment.

Thud thud thud...

The heavy footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase.

The Ragged Prince, still in his ragged clothes, bloodstains on his body not even cleaned off, hurried over to meet Viserys.

He had directed his butcher's knife towards all the noble families of Pentos. Except for a few who had received early warnings and had managed to hide or escape the city, the rest had been exterminated.

From the old to the infants, none were spared.

He had severed himself from the power circles of Pentos, and his reputation among the commoners was tarnished.

Now, the Ragged Prince could only cling to Viserys, his only option was to submit, otherwise, the city, filled with deep-seated hatred from the bloody night, would erupt in a blazing fury that would consume him.

"Your Grace."

The gray-haired old man, covered in blood, entered the room and knelt on one knee, looking at the back of Viserys.

...

Chapter 221: Sudden Change!

'Your Grace.'

'Pentos is yours now.'

The Ragged Prince kneeled on one knee before Viserys, pledging his loyalty. The young king gazed into the distance, silent for a long time before he finally spoke softly.

'Ragged Prince.'

'You have become the true Prince of Pentos. Aren't you ready to reclaim your real name?'

The old man with gray hair, dressed in rags and still bearing splotchy bloodstains, kneeled on the ground. Upon hearing Viserys's question, he hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

'Since I left my family, my real name no longer matters.'

'The name 'Ragged' constantly reminds me not to forget the disgrace I once endured.'

The Ragged Prince, pushing himself up from the ground, then spoke.

'Oh?'

Viserys, somewhat surprised by the Ragged Prince's words, turned his head to look at him. The sea breeze blew gently against the young king's handsome face, his silver-gold hair fluttering lightly.

He had always felt that the Ragged Prince, despite his appearance, never really considered himself a 'ragged king'. He was a refined man, maintaining the manners and dignity of a nobleman in every gesture.

However, Viserys did not expect that the Ragged Prince, now having attained Pentos and truly become a prince, would still choose to wear rags.

His reason was not without merit, wearing rags served as a reminder to himself, a cautionary note not to repeat past mistakes.

Viserys merely glanced at him curiously, choosing not to ponder too deeply on the matter.

He then turned back around, contemplating for a moment before continuing.

'The effects of this upheaval must be swiftly mitigated.'

The Bloody Night seemed to have only resulted in a few deaths, but its impact on the ancient city-state of Pentos was massive, akin to a revolutionary earthquake.

All the ruling class was overthrown, the Magister's family exterminated one by one.

And the wealthy merchants who had escaped the purge were also in panic. When the morning sun shone down, the city gates were thrown open, and they quickly fled Pentos with their families.

Now, many shops in Pentos were closed, the city was in a state of depression, and Viserys needed the economic engine of Pentos, so recovery work had to begin as soon as possible.

'Understood, Your Grace,' The Ragged Prince nodded and responded.

'To quickly restore the economy of Pentos, it would be best to employ a shock therapy.'

Illyrio, who had just become the kingdom's Master of Coin, immediately made a suggestion.

Still sitting in a chair with his injured leg raised, his cane set aside, he lifted his head and spoke as he watched the Ragged Prince walk to Viserys's side.

'The specific methods can be discussed further.'

Viserys nodded slightly.

'Also, there's another matter.'

He suddenly seemed to remember something, turning his head to look at the Ragged Prince who had just stood beside him.

'Hmm?'

..."

"Viserys suddenly realized that the Ragged Prince stood very close to him, a strange sensation rising within him.

But in the next second, he saw a sharp dagger falling from the cuff of the Ragged Prince's sleeve.

Thunk.

The old man with snow-white hair skillfully gripped the dagger hilt with his nimble fingers.

Then at such close range, Viserys had no defense. He swiftly stabbed towards Viserys's abdomen.

"Damn."

Viserys's eyes narrowed.

He had just sensed something strange, and then the Ragged Prince suddenly drew his blade and lunged. At such close range, his reaction was already quite fast.

His eyes shimmered with a faint purple glow.

Thud.

Viserys firmly grabbed the other's wrist.

The dagger had already pierced through his clothes, stopping mid-air just before reaching Viserys's abdomen.

However, when the first strike did not land, the other party seemed to have been psychologically prepared for this.

His movements were proficient, calm, and steady, like a routine rehearsed a thousand times.

His other hand moved like a snake, surprisingly agile for someone appearing to be in his fifties or sixties. The dagger danced at his fingertips, then effortlessly pierced Viserys's abdomen.

Plung.

Blood instantly gushed out, staining his robe red.

Viserys felt the pain, his brows furrowed and he grunted, then gritted his teeth and forcefully gripped the other's right hand.

Crack.

His strength was far superior.

He managed to brutally snap the opponent's wrist and drove the short blade from the other's right hand into his own body.

Plung.

The dagger also pierced the other's abdomen.

The Ragged Prince, whose wrist was seized, seemed to be somewhat surprised by Viserys's strength.

He had been watching Viserys's battle with the Mountain from the crowd last night, and he thought he had a complete grasp of Viserys's condition.

Although he was not clear about the reason, according to his observations, Viserys's swordsmanship was outstanding, his reaction speed extremely fast, and it was almost impossible to kill him with ordinary long-range crossbow shooting.

That's why he chose this risky method, getting close to Viserys and striking when he was completely unguarded.

However, even so, he had a very strong premonition of Viserys's reaction speed, but he still underestimated him. Viserys's reaction was even faster than he had imagined.

His wrist was broken and the dagger was stabbed into his abdomen, blood gushing out. While Viserys, also injured, was panting heavily with furrowed brows, the other party seemed to be as calm as if nothing had happened.

Then, the Ragged Prince's broken wrist slipped away from Viserys's grip as if it had been lubricated.

The broken wrist was still slightly shaking, the stabbed abdomen was bleeding, and the blood dripped on the ground. He pulled the dagger from his abdomen and threw it out the window, then leapt from the battlements.

Whoosh.

His robe fluttered, he fell freely.

Viserys, who was suddenly attacked, held his bleeding wound tightly with one hand, blood seeping through his fingers.

He saw the other jump from the battlements without hesitation, a look of astonishment flashed in Viserys's eyes.

This was one of the highest points in Pentos, several tens of meters high, a straight up and down tower. Jumping from here, wasn't that a death wish?

"Suicide?"

Viserys thought for a moment as he watched this scene unfold.

Then he leaned on the edge of the battlement, his breathing "Suicide?"

Viserys thought for a moment as he watched this scene unfold.

Then he leaned on the edge of the battlement, his breathing somewhat heavy. With one hand pressed against his wound, he strained to look down.

However, when he saw the scene below clearly, his faintly purple pupils slightly constricted, and a clear sense of astonishment crossed his face.

"This..."

Below the high tower, it was spotlessly clean with no trace of anyone falling. There was no sign of anyone having fallen down at all.

Chapter 222: Every Mortal Must Die

All of this happened so suddenly.

The confrontation between the two was over in the blink of an eye.

Illyrio, who was sitting on the other side, hadn't even had time to react, let alone see the movements of the two, before both were injured.

The ragged prince had stabbed Viserys in the abdomen with a dagger, and Viserys, in turn, had twisted the other's wrist, plunging his own blade into the prince's abdomen.

Then, the ragged prince... he jumped from the tower, choosing suicide.

"This..."

Illyrio, coming to his senses, was startled at first, then quickly stood up, leaning on his cane.

He saw Viserys with one hand covering the wound in his abdomen, from where blood was steadily flowing. His body seemed to soften as he sat on the ground, gasping for breath.

Then, he called out loudly.

"Help! Someone!"

"An assassin!"

The guards in the tower, hearing the cry, rushed over. The sounds of footsteps and shouting echoed everywhere, and the Nine-Tower Palace quickly fell into chaos.

Meanwhile, an elderly man in ragged clothes with grey hair, having just dismounted from his tall horse and entered the palace, was immediately detained by a group of Targaryen soldiers.

The ragged prince was caught off guard and didn't even have a chance to resist. Unaware of what had happened, he cried out about his innocence.

Soon after, a physician, carrying a medicine box, hurried over.

Viserys, still sitting on the cold ground, gasping for breath, fumbled to pick up the dagger he had dropped.

On the shiny blade, apart from the deep red of blood, he saw a faint blue glow.

"Poison."

Viserys' chest rose and fell lightly. He could already feel his limbs gradually going numb.

Then, he felt warmth at his nostrils, and a drop of blood slowly trickled down.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

Viserys' breathing was heavy, his eyes fixed on the spot reflecting the faint light, where blood and poison intertwined.

"Your Majesty."

"How do you feel now, is there any discomfort?"

An elderly physician with white hair was unwrapping his clothes to bandage the wound, while asking.

However, Viserys did not respond. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where the dagger was reflecting the light.

"Your Majesty?"

"Your Majesty?"

The old physician's voice rose in urgency.

But the next second, they saw nothing.

Boom—

A huge cloud of black mist, that seemed to have been accumulating for a long time, let out a terrifying, ghostly howl.

Then, it surged into Viserys' body.

...

"Long is the night, ice steps chiseled."

"At the edge of the world, endlessly drifting~"

The singing of a bard echoed from within a tavern, the melody beautiful.

."

"Due to the aftermath of the 'Blood Night', the tavern wasn't particularly crowded today, with most patrons discussing the events of the previous night.

The magisters of Pentos had invited the Targaryen king to celebrate the new year here. However, in a failed attempt to seize the dragon at the banquet, they ended up shooting themselves in the foot.

Dragons descended from the sky, burning the palace and killing all the magisters.

This morning, you could still see the enormous wealth being scavenged from the various magister residences, carted and transported to the harbor, destination unknown.

Those in the know already understood that the Targaryen king would not take up the crown and become the Prince of Pentos.

Instead, he had given this jewel of the bay to a mercenary leader, who was also the head of the Winds, responsible for the slaughter and fires last night. This had caused some panic among the people of Pentos.

Now, a singer in the tavern was playing a song from Westeros, one that might sound a bit unfamiliar to the people of Pentos.

It was a tale about the Rat Cook of the Nightfort, a story of a cook who, in revenge, killed the king's son, chopped him up, and baked him into a pie served to the king. The gods punished him by turning him into a giant white rat, doomed to wander the Nightfort forever, devouring his own offspring.

This was a story of a violation of guest right and the subsequent divine punishment, though it was unfamiliar to the people of Pentos.

However, it seemed to be 'following the times', and thus, with some additional rumors, it quickly spread throughout Pentos.

Clang--

A golden dragon coin flickered at the fingertips. Ramsay, his face concealed under his cloak, watched the singer, and then revealed a sinister smile.

The singer noticed Ramsay's smile from the corner of his eye, and a glint of joy sparked in his heart.

Ramsay then put down his goblet, got up, and left the table, placing the golden dragon on the table, telling the tavern maid it was for the singer, before heading toward the tavern's main entrance.

And at that moment.

The tavern door swung open, and a man with golden hair, a hooked nose, and a scar on his face entered.

Ramsay brushed past this man.

But the area near the tavern's counter was a bit narrow, and the blond man seemed a bit unsteady, failing to dodge in time, causing a slight collision.

Ramsay picked up on a familiar scent and noticed that the blond man's left hand seemed a bit stiff. However, he didn't think much of it, just giving a polite smile.

The blonde man was very respectful, placing his right hand on his stomach and bowing slightly.

"I apologize."

Then Ramsay pushed open the wooden door and left the tavern, while the blond man watched Ramsay's retreating figure, then withdrew his gaze.

He looked down at his open right hand, where a smear of blood was visible.

"A man has a right to vengeance~"

"But to kill a guest beneath one's own roof, to trample upon guest rights~"

"The gods shall never forgive!"

On the other side, the ballad about the Rat Cook continued.

After briefly listening, the blond man turned his gaze towards the tavern's counter and the maid there, pulled out a golden coin from his pocket, and handed it over.

However, his tip was not for the singer, he had another purpose.

"Valar Morghulis."

The blond man suddenly whispered this phrase in High Valyrian, which translates to 'All men must die'.

The tavern maid took the coin and ran her fingers over it lightly, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then she raised her head and took a good look at the man.

She replied in the same language, High Valyrian.

"Valar Dohaeris."

'All men must serve'

"What do you go by now?" the tavern maid, her apron wrapped around her, asked calmly.

"The man is called Miguel," the blond man shook his head, "A mercenary from Tyrosh."

"Oh," the maid's eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Did you succeed?"

This time, the blond man remained silent for a long while before nodding slowly.

"Um..."

"I suppose so."

Chapter 223: Empire

The tavern maid then led the blonde man named Miguel to the tavern's kitchen.

She lifted an unremarkable stone slab, revealing a deep, dark tunnel below.

Miguel glanced at the maid, their eyes met, and they nodded slightly. Without any hesitation, he covered his wound with one hand and descended into the darkness on a rickety ladder.

Seeing Miguel entering the tunnel, the tavern maid stood outside, looked around warily, then hoisted her skirt and crawled into the tunnel as well, gently closing the cover.

As the stone slab moved, two people seemed to evaporate from the silent kitchen.

Tap, tap, tap...

In the pitch-black tunnel, one couldn't see their hand in front of their face. However, both of them seemed to navigate without need for light, boldly moving forward by touch and feel.

Icy drops of water seeped into Miguel's collar from the tunnel ceiling. The cold in the tunnel made his broken left hand and abdominal wounds throb slightly, but the blonde man remained composed.

He had already tended to his wounds somewhat, but he still needed a 'healer'. Otherwise, his left hand would be completely useless.

He had underestimated Viserys' strength. Despite being stabbed first, Viserys nearly managed to kill him.

Had he not escaped by some means, a frontal confrontation would have resulted in his death.

"Why did you say 'I suppose so'?"

In the silent tunnel, only the sounds of their steps echoed. Both remained silent as if they were mute.

However, at this moment, the maid suddenly asked.

He didn't know her name. Faceless men may have long forgotten their names, hence her question about what he called himself now.

She was suddenly curious. His responses had never been as vague as 'I suppose so'.

Dead was dead, alive...

No.

No targets had ever escaped his assassination.

Upon hearing her question, the blond man fell silent for a while, then finally responded.

"He's formidable."

After that, he refused to say any more, no matter how much the girl probed.

After what felt like an eternity...

Tap, tap…

Their footsteps echoed in the tunnel.

They finally arrived at the other end of this section of the tunnel. The blond man glanced up the ladder, then climbed up first, pushing open the cover above his head.

The tavern maid followed him. First, she looked around cautiously, then she too emerged from the tunnel.

Contrary to expectations, this tunnel did not lead to the outskirts of Pentos or its slums. It appeared in the most bustling city center of Pentos, adjacent to the Magister's palace, and led to a large mansion.

It seemed like hiding in plain sight, but in a city like Pentos, the richer you are, the more troubles you can avoid.

Here, Miguel seemed to be struggling to keep up. The cold from the tunnel seeped into his wounds, gnawing at him like small insects. His complexion was slightly off, but he remained silent, discarding his outer clothing and lying down on a bed.

The tavern maid, now serious and solemn, cleaned and re-dressed the man's wounds and helped him brace his broken left hand.

Seeing the shocking scars on the man, the tavern maid finally understood what 'He's formidable' meant.

He had almost been defeated by his adversary.

"Who is this man?"

The tavern maid put down her tools, removed her bloodied gloves, and asked.

"

"'A good man?'

'Or a bad one?'

Yet there laid the blonde man known as 'Miguel,' bare-chested on the bed, who upon hearing the serving maid's words, slightly tilted his head to look at her.

'Does the girl believe that the Stranger only takes the lives of the wicked, leaving the good to remain in the world?'

The barmaid, upon hearing his words, subtly arched an eyebrow.

'Of course not.'

'But he is not the same.'

The Faceless Men seldom interfere with the changing of secular power, for the price of such meddling is one that almost no one can afford.

The followers of the Many-Faced God believe that death is a release, and for a price, they would consent to take a life.

But this price is not small, and it varies depending on the renown and defenses of the target.

To hire a Faceless Man to kill an ordinary merchant, the cost is merely half that of hiring a standard mercenary army.

However, to assassinate someone like Viserys would entail an unimaginable price.

'Yes, he is indeed different.'

'Thus, the price this time is either free, or priceless.'

'Miguel' nodded slightly.

'Just this once.'

'What do you mean?'

The barmaid furrowed her brows, not understanding his words.

'Girl, what is the history of the Faceless Men?'

Perhaps because she had just tended to his wounds, and they both serve the Many-Faced God, the blonde man seemed incredibly patient as he posed the question.

'Who was the first Faceless Man?'

Upon hearing 'Miguel's' words, the barmaid paused, not knowing why he brought it up, but she nodded and answered earnestly.

'The sect of the Many-Faced God originated in the mines of Valyria.'

'The first Faceless Man was one of the rebels against Valyrian tyranny.'

'Some say he was a slave, others insist he was a citizen of the Freehold, born into a noble family, and some would even tell you, he was a supervisor who sympathized with his slave subordinates.'

Even the Faceless Men themselves do not know the true identity of the first of their kind.

They only know that he led a successful uprising of slaves captured from hundreds of countries, guiding the slaves out of the mines, resisting Valyrian tyranny.

'The girl speaks true.'

'Miguel' quietly listened to the barmaid's words and then nodded slightly.

He was still lying shirtless on the sickbed, but his complexion had improved a lot, and then he continued to explain.

'Viserys Targaryen is a Valyrian, a pure-blooded noble of the Freehold.'

'He has three dragons and has become the only Dragon King of Valyria in the world.'

'And in contrast to the slogan of 'returning to the Seven Kingdoms,' he is more inclined to establish a grand empire in Essos, even to recreate the Freehold.'

'I have seen his notes.'

Miguel's voice was soft, but it revealed a secret that would shock the world.

Viserys always spoke of reclaiming the Iron Throne and returning to the Seven Kingdoms.

However, in reality, he was constantly expanding territory on the continent of Essos, which had aroused the vigilance of neighboring regions.

Braavos hoped for a king who would focus on attacking the Seven Kingdoms, not a king who aspired to recreate the Freehold of Valyria.

And as the And as the first generation of the Faceless Men, representing the resistance to Valyrian tyranny, they naturally would not allow this terrifying nation to rise from the ashes.

...

Chapter 224: Extraordinary Ability

In the palace at the top of the Nine Towers.

This should have been the palace that the Magisters of Pentos jointly gifted to Drogo, but now it belongs to Viserys.

With the young king being targeted for assassination, the entire palace has fallen into turmoil.

"Release the Beggar Prince."

"The assassin merely disguised himself as him."

Viserys, lying on his sickbed, issued this order to free the just-captured Beggar Prince.

The Beggar Prince, genuinely terrified, wished to see Viserys and continue his explanation, but he was refused.

Viserys knew that the Beggar Prince wasn't trying to explain anything. He wanted to gauge Viserys' current state, to see if his life was in danger.

If Viserys fell, the good days for the Beggar Prince would also end.

If he was wise enough, he might choose to abandon the city and flee, taking his Windblown and some of the wealth he had looted, and continue his mercenary work in the disputed lands.

Viserys, lying on the sickbed, subsequently dismissed all the physicians, as well as Illyrio and Jon Connington, leaving only two guards outside the door.

Crrrr—

Viserys directly tore off the bandage that had just been applied and threw it on the ground.

At this moment, the silver-haired young man was bare-chested, his abs clearly defined, and the place that had just been stabbed by the dagger now only had a faint scar.

His thick long hair, unrestrained, hung freely down his back. Viserys then sat up from the bed, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

"Whew~"

Due to his status, Viserys had indeed suffered quite a bit of 'care'.

After escaping King's Landing, assassinations and poisonings were a daily occurrence. He couldn't even remember how many times he had been targeted for assassination.

Even not long after entering Pentos, a man disguised as a wine seller tried to poison him.

But this also indirectly indicated that his enemies were now helpless against him, unable to curb the rise of House Targaryen, and could only resort to despicable methods like poisoning and assassination in an attempt to eliminate him.

And this time was the most dangerous assassination attempt Viserys had ever faced.

Neither he nor Illyrio recognized that the Beggar Prince in front of them was a disguise, and the impostor got close to him and suddenly attacked, catching him off guard.

Viserys then reached under his pillow and retrieved the dagger that had stabbed him in the stomach.

The texture of the dagger was clear, the black handle felt like obsidian, but slightly different.

The blade was smooth as water, Viserys held it in his hands and played with it a bit, gently reflecting the light and casting Viserys' image back at him.

His silvery-gold hair was disheveled, covering part of his forehead, his handsome features reflected differently in the blade's gentle sway.

Then, black fog gradually filled the room.

Viserys was currently using the dagger to examine his current state.

[Viserys Targaryen]

Strength (Solar): 18

Constitution (Earth): 20

Dexterity (Water): 20

Spirit (Lunar): 26

After a long time, Viserys had actually accumulated a lot of black fog, but, maintaining a cautious attitude, he had always retained a part and had not actively absorbed it into his body.

..."

"Yet this time, Viserys was suddenly faced with an assassination, and the wound had been infected with a deadly poison. He was forced to inhale all the accumulated shadowmist into his body in one breath.

And it all added up to his constitution and agility. Both attributes broke through to twenty and entered a qualitative change, evolving supernatural abilities from the mortal body.

From nineteen to twenty, it seems to be just an enhancement of a level, but it brings about earth-shaking changes.

For instance, the excruciating pain when breaking through, like some mystical force was shattering every bone and flesh in his body bit by bit, losing sensation all over.

Then life was reborn from this shattering, bit by bit regaining his senses, and with it, the poison and wounds on his body were erased, as if he had undergone a rebirth.

But Viserys passed out at that time, causing a commotion in his quarters.

His wounds had already been bandaged, so neither the maester nor anyone else saw the miraculous healing of the wound on Viserys's abdomen.

They all thought the young king fainted because of the poison, so they wanted to use bloodletting as a treatment.

For the medical technology of this world, there is no better way after being poisoned.

If the cause of the poison is known and a curable herb can be found, it would be okay. But if the cause of the poison is unknown, bloodletting is the only method.

The maesters believed that the poison was in the blood, and as long as the poisoned blood was let out, life could be saved.

Fortunately, Viserys didn't stay unconscious for long. He woke up just as the maester, his hair turning white, was preparing to bleed him.

"Stop!"

"Stop stop..."

Viserys felt a bit of a headache, quickly stopped his actions, and told him he was alright.

He then ordered the release of the innocent ragged prince who had been detained, and then drove everyone out.

When his constitution broke through to the supernatural, Viserys felt as if his whole body had been shattered.

But after calming down, Viserys then boosted his agility to twenty in one fell swoop.

Facing assassins, no matter how guarded, there will always be flaws. Improving one's strength is the best guarantee when facing such situations in the future.

Therefore, Viserys didn't maintain a cautious attitude and kept some of the shadowmist, but absorbed it all in one breath.

And this time, when agility broke through to the supernatural, he didn't experience any pain, feeling cool as if he was in an endless sea.

His body completely merged with the sea, becoming a drop of water, separating and going through many twists and turns. Eventually, Viserys gradually regained control of his body.

Like when his lunar nature broke through to the supernatural realm, Viserys's constitution and agility both broke through to the supernatural, gaining two special supernatural abilities.

The supernatural ability of his constitution made his body harder. Ordinary swords found it even more difficult to pierce his body, and he became immune to all poisons. It seemed to have drastically amplified his bloodline ability on some special existence.

Viserys didn't know if he, whose constitution had broken through to the supernatural, could be considered having the true blood of the dragon...

Or say, a Valyrian noble with a very pure bloodline.

He sat on the sickbed with his upper body bare. His silvery-golden hair became purer, even a bit shiny.

The lines of his face became more handsome. His pair of light purple eyes were clearer and brighter. His skin became tougher and smoother, and the veins beneath were full of power.

Then Viserys lit a candle.

At this moment, his finger was placed on the burning flame of the candle.

The flickering flame was gently enveloping his finger, reflected in the young man's light purple eyes.

Yet there was no pain of being burned. The flame was like a warm embrace, enveloping him.

This was the special ability from his constitution breaking through to the supernatural.

As for the supernatural ability of agility, it was even more peculiar. Viserys even felt it was somewhat like magic.

Chapter 225: Transforming into Black Mist

The candle flame gently flickered.

Whoosh~

Viserys' figure gradually vanished, like the wind scattering dust, slowly turning into a flowing black mist under the candlelight.

Then, not far from the bedside, he reformed.

Viserys opened his eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been sitting by the window, sinking into deep thought.

"How fascinating."

Viserys felt that when he transformed into a cloud of black mist, his whole body blended into the air. He could still sense his existence, but his weight became almost unnoticeable, about... fifty grams.

This amazing ability excited Viserys, and he tirelessly experimented with it. Unfortunately, like the Eye of the Moment, this ability became ineffective after a few consecutive uses in a short time, possibly entering a cooldown period.

The ability to turn into black mist allowed Viserys to evade all harm for a certain period, and escape effortlessly.

Conversely, it could turn Viserys into the most terrifying assassin in the dark of night, silently penetrating the hardest of castles, claiming the enemy's head and disappearing without a trace.

Regrettably, perhaps due to Viserys' low attributes now, just barely crossing into the supernatural realm, the number of times he could use this black mist ability was limited, and the distance he could move was not far.

Even so, it was a terrifying magical ability.

In no way inferior to the Eye of the Moment awakened by the lunar attribute reaching the supernatural, or the True Dragon Bloodline awakened by the physical attribute reaching the supernatural.

If the previous two abilities, though practical, still seemed to be within the realm of human capability, the ability to turn into black mist upon water attribute reaching the supernatural was almost akin to magic or demonism.

If revealed, it might be perceived as devilish.

"I wonder what the ultimate state of this evolutionary path would be."

Viserys mused. Now, just a mere attribute reaching twenty had evolved into a supernatural ability.

What would it become if he killed more people, absorbed more intelligent souls, and one attribute exceeded thirty, forty, or even higher?

"Would I become a god?"

Viserys thought of this and couldn't help but shake his head.

Whether this world had gods, who the gods were, different people had different answers.

Compared to worrying about these intangible things, for a mortal like Viserys, the most basic issues at hand were more important.

Such as, who wanted to kill him?

The other party's skills were astonishing. Leaping down from a tower tens of meters high, Viserys believed he couldn't do that.

Such an assassin wouldn't be an ordinary person.

That's why he didn't think the Ragged Prince was the one, but someone disguised as him. A man in his fifties or sixties couldn't possibly have such abilities.

However, there was a top-notch assassin organization in Essos known for its perfect disguise ability, the famed Faceless Men of Braavos.

They could artistically peel off a person's face and perfectly disguise themselves as that person.

Even without the person's face, they could choose a similar cheek. The Faceless Men had a vast collection of human skins to choose from, and with some makeup techniques to make up for the difference, they could achieve the effect of a perfect imitation.

"The Faceless Men are after me."

Viserys returned to his bed, a surge of anger rising in his heart. He had a good temper and rarely got angry, but this time, if it weren't for the many souls he'd accumulated, he might have died.

But from another perspective, if he hadn't accumulated black mist but instead absorbed "all of it into his body, perhaps this assassination attempt wouldn't have happened.

He could even have crushed this damned Faceless Man directly.

"They must pay the price."

Viserys sat back down at the bedside, his hand still clutching the short knife, lightly playing with it.

"Valyrian steel."

If his guess was correct, this was a short knife made of Valyrian steel, a valuable item.

."

"'They really think highly of me.'

Viserys's gaze was slightly cold, and then he directly threw the dagger in his hand.

Thud—

Wood chips flew around.

The Valyrian steel dagger was harshly nailed into the wooden door not far away. The handle trembled slightly, flashing a terrifying cold light.

...

Not long after.

The night gradually fell.

Just after the transition of the ruling class and the assassination attempt on Viserys.

Although this matter was kept strictly confidential and not leaked to the public, the city of Pentos still carried out a strict curfew.

The streets were full of the Windblown mercenaries and the once city guard of Pentos.

The commander of the city guard has now been replaced. The former commander was killed by the Beggar Prince after surrendering, and was replaced by his trusted man known as 'the War Poet', Denzo D'han.

And the Windblown mercenaries have now upgraded their weapons, they had already made a fortune when they plundered the Magister's family. Now they are fully equipped with bright armor and superior weapons, transforming into the regular army of Pentos.

At this moment, the streets were full of soldiers, and naturally, there were no customers in the small tavern.

After the serving girl at the tavern helped 'Miguel' treat his injuries, she had somehow crawled back through the tunnel.

This was a small base set up by the Faceless Men in Pentos, so her long disappearance went unnoticed.

Now the red-haired young woman sat behind the bar, yawning a bit, still thinking about what happened during the day, wondering why the death of the Targaryen young king had not been reported.

'They're really good at keeping secrets.'

The serving girl murmured, her hand propping up her chin.

'Not announcing the death?'

However, at this moment, the red-haired young woman's ears twitched slightly. She heard something, the footsteps on the street outside became much noisier, as if they were rushing towards this direction.

'Hmm?'

But while the tavern girl was stunned.

Boom—

The tavern's door was kicked open, a group of Pentos soldiers and Windblown mercenaries rudely broke in.

Leading them was a Dothraki man with his upper body bare, his muscular body covered in purple tribal tattoos, and a heavy arakh curved sword in his hand.

Beside him was a man wrapped in a black robe. He looked at the tavern girl and then pointed at her.

'What are you gentlemen here to do?'

The red-haired woman squeezed a smile onto her face, preparing to approach them.

But the next second, she dashed toward the tavern window at a speed that most people wouldn't anticipate.

However, the prepared Pentos soldiers were not alarmed, a large net had been spread out for her, and a crossbow bolt hit her thigh.

Then the net dropped from the sky and wrapped the red-haired woman in it, and the tightened net trapped her inside.

Then a Pentos soldier walked up and directly tied the woman's hands and feet, leaving her immobile.

The rest of the Pentos soldiers searched the entire tavern, but they did not find any other suspicious personnel.

Chapter 226: The Capture

"Where is the man with golden hair?"

Ramsay's face was hidden under his hood, his eyes cold.

His king had nearly died at the hands of that man.

It wasn't that Ramsay was particularly loyal to Viserys, but his ambition, Ramsay Snow's ambition, needed to cling to the big tree that was Viserys.

If Viserys fell, he, who had no allies in Andalos and enemies everywhere, might return to being a lowly bastard overnight.

Ramsay had completed the task assigned by Viserys in secret, spreading the story of trampling on guest rights, making Viserys's counterattack seem justified.

During this process, Ramsay encountered the somewhat strange golden-haired man, from whom Ramsay smelled a familiar scent.

But at that time, Ramsay didn't take it seriously.

However, when he returned to the palace, he learned that Viserys had been assassinated. The assassin, disguised as a ragged prince, had escaped by jumping from the tower. His abdomen had been wounded by the young king's counterattack, and his left hand had been twisted off.

Only then did Ramsay suddenly remember the somewhat strange man he had met in the tavern.

The man was holding his abdomen with one hand, his left hand seemed a bit stiff and inconvenient to move, and he had a bloody smell that Ramsay was very familiar with.

Ramsay suspected that he was the assassin who had tried to kill Viserys, and then led the members of the Windblown group to arrest him.

However, they did not find the assassin, but they had another unexpected gain.

The red-haired woman was caught in a large net with an arrow in her thigh, no matter how great her skills, she could not break free.

Then the soldiers of Pentos and the mercenaries of the Windblown group rushed up and pressed her to the ground, then tied her up tightly with iron chains and brought her to Ramsay.

Ramsay began to interrogate her, but she bit her teeth and kept her mouth shut.

"Heh."

The black-haired young man showed a gloomy smile at the corner of his mouth. He liked such stubborn people.

However, at this moment.

The soldiers who were searching the entire tavern finally had an unexpected gain.

One of the mercenaries of the Windblown group was an expert in this area. Among these mercenaries, there were all kinds of talents, even those who were good at grave digging.

One of the experienced middle-aged mercenaries with a full face of stubble knocked on each piece of the floor with his hand, finally finding the location of the tunnel entrance in the back kitchen of the tavern. He then lifted the stone slab with his hand, revealing the dark and deep hole below.

"Caggo!"

Then he called over the Dothraki man who was bare-chested, the captain of the Windblown group, the right hand of the ragged prince.

"Hmm."

Caggo squatted at the edge of the hole and threw a stone down to test it. The response came instantly, the hole wasn't very deep.

He then took a torch from a mercenary and shone it down, seeing the ladder and the bottom of the tunnel.

Ramsay, attracted by the noise, came over and exchanged a glance with Caggo.

"Hmph."

Then the Dothraki man grunted unhappily, put his arakh on his waist, and was the first to jump down the tunnel holding the ladder.

The other skilled members of the Windblown group also followed their leader into the tunnel.

On the other side, the tavern maid who was tied up tightly saw this scene, her face slightly changed, but she
still remained silent.

Ramsay watched as Caggo and the mercenaries of the Windblown group entered the tunnel, then turned his gaze back to the red-haired woman.

Their eyes met, the tavern maid's eyes were threatening, and Ramsay just sneered.

"Take her away!"

His black robe trailing on the ground, Ramsay's face hidden under his hood, he walked past the tavern maid.

He pushed open the tavern door and disappeared back into the darkness.

...

On the other side.

Caggo led the skilled members of the Windblown group into the tunnel. The tunnel had many ventilation holes, but these were still not enough to light a torch inside.

Otherwise, they would suffocate before reaching the end of the tunnel.

The strongest Dothraki man was in the front, with the rest of the brothers following him, groping their way forward in the dark.

Soon.

Caggo's hand touched the cold wall, they had reached the end of this tunnel.

"We're at the end."

He stopped, and the mercenaries of the Windblown group behind him also stopped.

In this pitch-black environment, they couldn't even see their hand gestures, they could only move forward by touching the back of the person in front of them.

This was a square well, wider than the tunnel they had just come through, which only allowed one person to pass.

"Here."

Then one of the mercenaries touched the ladder and whispered.

However, someone accidentally touched something and made a noise.

"Silence."

Caggo spoke in a low voice.

"Up!"

Then the group climbed up the ladder one after another, the person at the top gently lifted the stone slab above his head.

Crack...

He moved it slightly, peeked outside.

He found that it should be a room outside, no candles were lit, only the dim moonlight came in, bringing a little faint light.

Then the first mercenary climbed out, looked around and found that there was no one in the room, then gestured to the people below.

Several mercenaries from the Windblown group and Caggo climbed out from the tunnel below.

"Caggo, there's no one here."

A mercenary holding a long sword in both hands, looked around carefully and spoke cautiously.

Caggo, however, checked the room and saw a single bed in the room. The bedding on the bed was a bit messy, so he walked over and put his hand in to feel it.

His face changed slightly.

"It's warm."

"There was someone here just now!"

But at that moment.

A cold light descended from the ceiling, piercing the back of a mercenary's neck, penetrating his spine.

Then quickly withdrew the sword.

Puff--

Blood spurted out like a fountain.

...

On the other side.

Bang--

The red-haired woman was taken to the dungeon of the palace where Viserys was staying.

Heavily guarded in preparation for those who might come to rescue her.

In Viserys's bedroom, the light was dim, the flame flickered slightly.

Illyrio and Jon Connington appeared here, they saw Viserys sitting on the bed looking well, and were both surprised and delighted.

They were delighted that Viserys was not seriously injured, and surprised that Viserys recovered so quickly.

Viserys had already dressed, they couldn't see that the wound had healed, they just thought that Viserys was recovering well and could sit up.

"Your Majesty, was this really the work of the Faceless Men?"

Jon Connington, who had already regained his gray-red hair, asked seriously.

He no longer needed to hide his identity.

Chapter 227: The Sea Lord's Plan

"There's no direct evidence to prove it was the work of the Faceless Men."

Viserys sat on the bed in a loose robe, his silver-gold hair reflecting a faint glow in the candlelight.

Illyrio and Jon both felt that Viserys seemed to have changed. His hair flowed like molten silver, even shimmering, and his eyes were clearer and brighter than before.

It was a breathtaking color, like a magnificent gem. Being stared at by those eyes gave a chilling sensation, like a breeze brushing against the skin.

In simple terms, their king seemed more handsome than before.

"Your Majesty's complexion is really..."

Illyrio didn't know how to describe Viserys's transformation, but this change made him, a man who only loved women and never had any interest in men, feel a sudden heartbeat.

On the other side, the former Hand of the King of the Targaryen dynasty was also observing Viserys.

He had the same feeling. Even though Jon was somewhat reluctant to admit it, the current Viserys seemed more handsome than the 'Silver Prince' he had followed.

At the same time, he heard Viserys's words, nodded slightly, and felt much more relaxed.

If this was not the work of the Faceless Men, it would be fine. This meant that Braavos had no intention of turning against the Targaryens.

However, Viserys calmly watched the two men in front of him, observing their expressions, then shook his head and laughed.

"But it's highly likely."

Illyrio, the newly appointed Master of Coin, was a self-made merchant Magister. He was naturally well-versed in financial matters.

He was much better than those noble finance ministers who never carried a single gold dragon in their pockets, such as the Lords of the Riverlands, House Tyrell.

Viserys always advocated for professionals to do professional things, to listen to their opinions rather than judge by their status.

Just like the basic system of the new dynasty, positions were based on ability, not on nobility.

On the other hand, Jon Connington, the Hand of the King who was expelled during the reign of Viserys's father, Aerys II, was undoubtedly capable and loyal.

He highly respected honor, perhaps sharing some common ground with Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North.

Although Viserys had asked about 'Aegon Targaryen', Jon Connington was clearly hesitant and ultimately did not tell the truth.

Perhaps he still had reservations about Viserys, but Viserys did not doubt his loyalty.

If such a person was not considered loyal, Viserys would have too few people to rely on.

Now, one of them is the Master of Coin of the new dynasty, and the other, although without an official position, is Viserys's personal advisor.

Their opinions on the next plan are very important to Viserys.

As Viserys spoke, the faces of Illyrio and Jon Connington changed slightly.

Viserys's words almost confirmed that the assassin was the infamous Faceless Man, only that there was no direct evidence to prove it.

"Your Majesty, it's not good news if Braavos wants to take action against us."

The two looked at each other, then Jon took a deep breath, shook his head, and said.

"But... it's only a matter of time."

"We will inevitably have conflicts with Braavos in the future."

The Targaryens' expansion on the continent of Essos would inevitably touch on Braavos's interests.

This was an unsolvable fundamental problem, and the relationship between the two had changed from friendly to indifferent. The

Targaryen family had replaced and absorbed Pentos, becoming a new threat to Braavos.

And Braavos might now be regretting it deeply.

"So, what should we do next, Your Majesty?"

"Should we take the initiative and settle accounts with Braavos before the winter comes to the Seven Kingdoms?"

Jon, wearing a bright suit of armor that reflected the candlelight, held the hilt of his sword with one hand, glanced at Illyrio, and spoke.

Braavos's strength was indeed strong, being the leader of the Free Trade City-States.

However, Braavos, though strong, was not invincible. It took the people of Braavos a full two hundred years to conquer Pentos, during which six major battles broke out. Braavos won four and lost two.

But for the current Targaryen family, defeating Braavos by themselves is not advisable. They must find allies.

"Who are our potential allies?"

"Cohor? Norvos? Or the great lords of Tyrosh?"

The dim candlelight in the room flickered gently. Viserys got up from the bed and walked to the table.

"Your Majesty."

Illyrio reached out to help him, but was waved off by Viserys.

The silver-haired youth stood by the table, his fingers stroking the wooden grain on the table, then turned his head and spoke.

"Due to the issue of slavery, Tyrosh, Lys, and Myr all have a poor relationship with Braavos, and even had conflicts a long time ago."

"But they won't become enemies with Braavos because of this."

"Volantis, on the other hand, is not pleased with Braavos and intends to compete for the leadership of the trade city-states, but unfortunately, the geographical locations of the two are too far apart."

Upon saying this, Viserys hummed, and Illyrio, on the other side, shook his head jokingly after hearing Viserys's words.

"If we really go to war with Braavos, Slaver's Bay will definitely support us."

"Braavos has not interfered with their business a little."

But at this point, Illyrio's tone changed slightly.

"However, war is not only about fighting with swords, Your Majesty."

"Gold can also be a means of war, and it kills more invisibly."

Illyrio spoke calmly, his hands tucked into his wide sleeves, his gaze following Viserys the whole time.

"We have a large number of loan contracts with the Iron Bank."

"With these IOUs borrowed in gold, the Iron Bank will not easily let the Sea Lord turn against us."

"After all, the Sea Lord is just the figurehead, not the Emperor of Braavos."

Illyrio spoke bluntly, his words directly pointing out a flaw in the political system of Braavos.

The Sea Lord of Braavos, as an elected leader, is not a king or an emperor, and does not have absolute power.

Therefore, any decision he makes requires balancing the interests of various parties within the city-state to reach a compromise.

"However, this is also the cleverness of the Sea Lord's move."

Illyrio paused slightly, then continued.

"Please forgive me, Your Majesty."

"If you had died in this assassination, Braavos would have chosen a compliant successor from either the Princess or Daenerys."

"And if you didn't die and angrily declared war on Braavos, it would also play into their hands."

Viserys, standing by the table, raised an eyebrow at Illyrio's words and asked.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"Wait for the opportunity!"

Il
lyrio spoke decisively.

"Hatred must be remembered, but a wise king will not let emotions dictate his decisions."

Chapter 228: The Faceless Man

Not long after, in the dungeon beneath the palace.

The barmaid was imprisoned here, her hands and feet shackled with heavy chains. The cell door was sturdy, almost impossible to forcibly open without a key.

Hush~

The corridor's torchlight flickered, the surroundings were silent without a hint of noise.

At this moment, a faint sound came. The barmaid slightly raised her head, then saw a shadowy figure approaching from a distance.

"Sir."

A soldier stepped forward and whispered something, but was unexpectedly stabbed in the throat with a short knife.

Puff.

Blood splattered on the wall, the body was gently held by the newcomer and placed on the ground, making little noise.

The red-haired woman, seeing this scene, narrowed her eyes. She knew her comrades had come to rescue her.

However, for some reason, there was no joy in her heart, instead, a sense of unease was fermenting.

While the barmaid was lost in thought, the shadow reflected by the firelight disappeared from her sight, leaving only a corpse lying silently on the cold ground.

But the next second.

The sound of keys jingling suddenly echoed above the barmaid's head.

The woman, slightly distracted, was startled by the sound so close, and looked up. A shadow stood in front of the corridor's torchlight, casting a shadow over her.

The man had torn off the face with a scar, revealing the face of 'Miguel', a mercenary from Tyroshi, his pale blue eyes revealing a hint of fatigue.

"You're here."

As he was unlocking the door, a calm voice sounded from behind him.

"Hmm."

'Miguel' subconsciously nodded.

But he quickly realized that the voice did not come from the comrade in front of him, and the other party was also looking at him with wide eyes in shock.

"Who?"

Miguel felt a chill run through his body, and quickly turned to look behind him.

A familiar figure stood not far away, quietly watching him. His long silver-gold hair was tied up, and his eyes reflected Miguel's figure.

The figure was Viserys, who he had assassinated during the day. At his feet lay the body of a soldier. Viserys looked down at the corpse and let out a sigh.

This was a familiar face, who had followed him to Pentos, but he didn't expect him to die here.

"His name was Jadd."

"He has been with me for many years."

Viserys then looked up and spoke.

On the other side, 'Miguel' also had a look of shock in his eyes, and he involuntarily stepped back, looking at his comrade.

Their eyes met, both feeling as if they had seen a ghost.

"You shouldn't be alive."

Then 'Miguel' turned his gaze to Viserys, his hand on the cold iron bars, his voice hoarse.

He didn't expect to see Viserys again. Before the assassination, he had smeared a potent scorpion tail poison on his dagger.

This poison, once it enters the heart, is undoubtedly fatal. Before that, the whole body's muscles would necrotize, the wound would fester, and even maggots would not approach the wound.

By now, more than half a day had passed, and by any calculation, Viserys should have died from the poison, and it was impossible for him to stand in front of him.

However... seeing is believing, Viserys was indeed standing in front of them, and was walking towards them.

"Yes, perhaps I shouldn't be alive."

"But perhaps your Many-Faced God wants me to live

?"

Viserys spoke calmly, slowly approaching.

Step.

Step.

In the silent cell, Viserys' footsteps were clear.

One step.

Another step.

"The Black Goat of Qohor? The Night Lion of the wild? Or the Stranger of Westeros?"

The Many-Faced God is the god of death. Followers of the Many-Faced God believe that all gods in the world are just different faces of the same god. Therefore, almost all gods in the world are worshipped in the House of Black and White.

As 'Miguel' watched Viserys approach, he couldn't help but take another step back.

Clang.

He then drew a gleaming rapier from his waist.

His right hand held the sword, his broken left hand behind his back, he assumed the stance of a water dancer, the sword pointing at the silver-haired youth approaching him.

The Faceless Man's rapier was less than a foot away from Viserys' chest.

And at this moment, Viserys finally stopped. His pale purple eyes quietly examined the other's face.

For some reason, the Faceless Man felt a lack of confidence in his sword-holding right hand, even his palm was slightly sweaty.

If it were any other day, 'Miguel' would have been confident that he could pierce the other's heart at this distance.

But now...

Time seemed to freeze for a second.

Then, without any warning, the Faceless Man suddenly attacked, just like when he disguised himself as the ragged prince and assassinated without any warning.

But last time, Viserys was unprepared, and this time, the world's top assassin was facing Viserys head-on.

The gleaming rapier tore through the air, aiming to pierce Viserys' heart, but was dodged by the silver-haired youth with an incredible reaction speed.

'Miguel' had watched Viserys' fight with the Mountain, he knew Viserys was fast.

But now, the roles were reversed, he was in the Mountain's position, facing Viserys, and he realized how much pressure it was to face such an opponent.

In the Faceless Man's perception, it was almost as if the moment his wrist moved to thrust the sword, Viserys had already anticipated where the sword would go, and almost simultaneously dodged.

The Mountain had felt the same way, it was extremely frustrating.

Swish!

At such a close distance, the Faceless Man's sword missed.

The next second.

Viserys' longsword also left its sheath, the sound of metal clashing echoed, and the two engaged in a fierce fight.

Clang, clang, clang—

And the last sound was even louder.

Clang!

The Faceless Man's narrow rapier broke upon the next clash with Dusk, the tip of the sword was cut off and flew away.

At the same time, a flash of blood bloomed, and half an arm fell to the ground, blood spraying out.

The Faceless Man let out a pained grunt, then rolled backward.

Chapter 229: The Ranger

The Faceless Man, already severely injured, was greatly hindered in terms of agility.

"An excellent assassin never confronts his enemy head-on."

This was what his guide had warned him when he joined the ranks of the Faceless Men through the 'Gift'.

Faceless Men lurking in the shadows were the enemies that all kings, Magisters, and even Khals feared.

However, when facing a knight from Westeros clad in full armor, their threat was greatly diminished.

As the bravest warriors in a Khalasar, the Khals of the Dothraki had also been immersed in real combat for many years. The Faceless Men didn't have an extra head, so they didn't have any advantage in combat.

But now, the Faceless Man was forced to confront Viserys head-on. The water dancer's swordsmanship was exquisite and flashy, but still not enough.

As his weapon was broken, Viserys' sword also came down.

In desperation, 'Miguel' actually raised his left arm to block, and then half of his arm was easily cut off by the divine weapon comparable to Valyrian steel.

"Run!"

The barmaid in the cell, seeing this scene, immediately shouted anxiously.

But this sentence didn't need to be said, the Faceless Man himself was already well aware.

Half of his arm was cut off, and the pain of the burn-like wound caused by the magic-infused sword made even a strictly trained assassin like the Faceless Man unable to help but distort his face.

However, he still didn't scream, just grunted in pain.

Immediately, he covered his severed arm with one hand, enduring the pain, and fled towards the window without looking back.

He wanted to open the window and jump out from here, then escape.

However, Viserys stood in place holding his blood-stained longsword and did not actively pursue. The blood dripped onto the ground.

"Thank goodness."

Seeing this scene, the barmaid, burdened with heavy shackles, let out a sigh of relief and sat back down on the ground.

But in the next second.

A scene that made her almost unable to believe her own eyes happened.

Viserys suddenly turned into a cloud of black mist and disappeared before her eyes.

On the other side.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

The Faceless Man, panting heavily and covering his severed arm, fled towards the window like a dog that had lost its home. His vision was even somewhat blurry.

But then he felt a bone-chilling coldness in his chest, which directly penetrated his heart, and then turned into a pain like being roasted by a raging fire.

Viserys suddenly appeared in front of him, and Dusk pierced his heart.

'Miguel's' eyes widened, once again showing shock and familiar disbelief, and then blood surged from the corner of his mouth.

"Impossible!"

The Faceless Men can control their emotions well. They can stay calm in any dangerous situation. However, today, the Faceless Man's worldview has been refreshed several times.

It even made him somewhat doubt whether the world in front of him was real, whether he was dreaming.

Viserys, who should have been behind him, suddenly appeared in front of him in a cloud of black mist and pierced his heart with a sword.

In the neighboring cell, the Mountain, shackled heavily, also held the cold iron window. He had been silent all along, but now he widened his eyes in disbelief at the scene before him.

He and the barmaid both saw Viserys turn into a cloud of black mist, then suddenly appear in front of the assassin, and pierce his heart with a sword.

"Devil!"

Gregor Clegane, panting slightly, his towering figure pressed against the iron window, his hand clutching the cold railing, murmuring.

And the Faceless Man who had tried to assassinate Viserys during the day, no matter how unbelievable, his life force was rapidly fading. Without their disguise, they were merely mortal.

Puff.

Then Viserys pulled out his longsword, a black mist followed the sword into the man's body, and the Faceless Man's corpse fell softly to the ground.

"No."

The barmaid on the other side seemed somewhat unable to accept the scene.

However, Viserys didn't pay attention to the reactions of the two guests in the cell. He squatted down and touched the cheek of the corpse.

After the Faceless Man died, there was a slight gap between their body and the skin they wore on the outside.

Then Viserys directly tore off this face, revealing the true face of the Faceless Man underneath.

...

The next morning.

Two heads of the Faceless Men were hung on the city wall of the Nine Towers Palace.

Some passing Pentoshi citizens looked up and saw this scene.

If it were usual, they might have been interested in discussing who the unlucky guy who had angered these big people was, and even come up with a moving story.

However, now the Pentoshi people, who have artistic cells and are good at imagining, didn't take a few more glances at the heads of these two unlucky guys, because they have seen too many heads these two days.

All the Magisters were exterminated, their assets were all confiscated by the city-state, and as a grace, their former slaves were freed and became new freemen in the city-state.

The people who used to work for these Magister families still keep their original jobs, and their salaries have even slightly increased, so the people quickly accepted the change of the king's flag on the city head.

Among these people passing by the palace.

One person paid more attention to the heads on the palace city wall, carefully identified for a while, and even almost attracted the attention of the guards.

Then this person quickly disappeared into the crowd.

...

The dragon burned all the Magisters, the Targaryen family took Pentos, and Viserys encountered the assassination of the Faceless Men.

Limited by the backward communication technology, ordinary ravens can hardly fly over the sea, they must rely on merchant ships, these news will inevitably reach Westeros a month later.

And a few days after this incident.

Thousands of miles away, north of the Wall of Desolation.

The heavy snow of the previous few days finally got a brief respite, a group of riders wearing animal skin capes and black cloaks seized this opportunity and were struggling to move forward in the heavy snow.

They were the rangers of the Night's Watch, responsible for scouting and patrolling in the Haunted Forest, killing the wildlings and the Others wandering here.

However, the latter has long become a legend, the Night's Watch has forgotten the memory of the Others, and now only stories to scare children are passed down.

This group of rangers had just repelled a small group of wildlings who had entered their field of vision. The other party left a few corpses and then fled in embarrassment.

Because the Others have been missing for too long, the target of the Night's Watch has also changed from guarding against the Others to killing wildlings. The Haunted Forest is now the battlefield for the wildlings and the Night's Watch.

At this moment.

A faint sound suddenly came from the bushes not far from the rangers.

Chapter 230: The Haunted Forest

A subtle rustling came from the bushes beside them.

"Hmm?"

As the leader of this group of cavalry, Benjen Stark, the Chief Ranger of the Night's Watch from House Stark, slightly raised his head, looking in the direction of the noise.

"What was that noise just now?"

Benjen Stark's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and the rest of the rangers quickly became alert.

Rangers were different from other Night's Watch units, which included thieves, debtors, poachers, rapists, thieves, and bastards.

The rangers were the most elite warriors in the Night's Watch. Most of them came from noble or titled families and had received good swordsmanship training since childhood.

Some joined the Night's Watch voluntarily, while others were forced to do so due to political struggles within the kingdom.

Therefore, the rangers could often gain the upper hand in their encounters with the wildlings, becoming the number one enemy of 'King Beyond the Wall' Mance Rayder. All the wildlings wished they could eat their flesh alive.

At Benjen Stark's words, all the rangers fell silent in an instant.

A dozen 'crows' glanced at each other, then quietly dismounted.

The Chief Ranger with long black hair stared intently at the bush where the sound had come from.

The snowstorm a few days ago was severe, accompanied by chilling winds and the howling of ghosts and wolves. This was the norm in the Haunted Forest, and the climate north of the Wall was harsh.

So they found a place to shelter from the snowstorm, and now they were back on their journey.

Benjen couldn't see what was hiding in the bush he was looking at. He was silent for a moment, then raised his hand.

Two rangers nodded and followed him, the three of them crouching and moving towards the source of the sound.

At this moment.

The bush not far away, which had just made a noise, made a sound again.

But this time they heard clearly. It seemed like a group of people far away from them were shouting loudly, and they were speaking in an obscure language they couldn't understand.

"It's wildlings!"

Benjen, who was leading two brothers, instantly understood the identity of the other party.

Only the lands north of the Wall retained the ancient language of the First Men, and everyone active here, except for the Night's Watch, were wildlings.

And these shouting voices seemed to be chased by something terrifying, running towards Benjen and the other rangers.

"Benjen, what do we do?"

Another ranger brother whispered to their leader.

The long-faced man's grey-blue eyes slightly condensed, he gripped the hilt of his sword, then exhaled a white mist, decisively saying.

"Kill them when they come."

"Good!"

All the ranger brothers nodded.

Then a dozen rangers in black followed Benjen, took their bows and arrows from their backs, strung their bows, and crouched in the bushes, preparing to ambush this group of wildlings.

There are no roads north of the Wall, all are open spaces walked by people.

Their horses were tied to the trees, and the rangers were preparing to ambush these unlucky wildlings.

"These damn guys seem to be chased by some beast."

One of the rangers sneered.

The wildlings hated the Night's Watch, and the Night's Watch naturally had a deep hatred for the wildlings. Many brothers had died at their hands.

Soon, without too much time passing, the group of shouting wildlings finally appeared in the rangers' sight.

But what puzzled Benjen was that he didn't see anything chasing them from behind.

"What are they running
from?"

These wildlings lived in the harsh environment north of the Wall, each of them agile. Those unfit for survival among the wildlings died young, and ordinary beasts were no match for these wildlings.

"What exactly is chasing them?"

If it were one or two, it would be fine, but so many wildlings...

The sharp-faced man furrowed his brows, he had a bad feeling in his heart.

However, at this moment, a ranger couldn't help but release his arrow first.

Thump—

The bowstring made a sound, an arrow made a sharp whistling sound, and then directly hit a wildling's throat.

Thud.

The arrow pierced his neck, blood splattered on the white snow, and the body fell into the snow and disappeared instantly.

"Damn it! There are 'crows'!"

The fleeing wildlings were also shocked at this sight, and then a wildling who understood the common tongue shouted loudly.

"There are monsters! We are not enemies!"

But before he could finish his words, the next second, a dozen rangers released their arrows together.

Thump, thump, thump—

Each of the rangers was an elite among the Night's Watch, their arrows extremely accurate. The group of wildlings, without armor, could only block the rain of arrows with their bodies.

Therefore, they quickly fell, their bodies buried in the snow, leaving a lot of bright red in the white expanse.

The last wildling was shot in the thigh, fell into the snow, but still struggled to crawl in their direction.

"Leave one alive!"

Seeing this, Benjen, who was somewhat uneasy, quickly spoke to stop them.

However, his voice was a step too late, a ranger next to him released his bowstring.

Thud—

The cold arrowhead pierced the last wildling's neck, and blood quickly spread in the white snow.

"This..."

The ranger looked somewhat innocent and shrugged slightly.

"Sir, you spoke too slowly."

"But there's nothing good about interrogating wildlings, they move their settlements frequently, and by the time we patrol next, they've probably moved."

Wildlings often had to migrate to places with more food and water sources for survival, so they had no fixed abode.

"Hmm, never mind."

Benjen frowned, but didn't say much more.

Splash—

Then a group of rangers hiding behind the bushes all stood up.

Since all the wildlings had been eliminated, they were preparing to go forward and search their bodies.

There was nothing good at the Wall, but they definitely couldn't leave weapons and equipment to these wildlings.

Then several rangers slid down the slope, holding onto the trees.

Benjen still stood on the high ground, arms folded across his chest, looking in the direction the wildlings had fled from, pondering something.

At this moment, an extremely pale face suddenly intruded into his vision.

"Hmm?"

Benjen was slightly startled, not reacting at first.

However, the next second, that pale face disappeared from his sight.

Chapter 231: Castle Black

Several days later.

A few horsemen, cloaked in black, emerged from the Haunted Forest, their bodies scarred and battered. They arrived at the foot of the imposing Wall.

"Open the gates!"

"Open the gates!"

The Night's Watch sentries atop the Wall spotted them and shouted out. The guards stationed at the gate below began to pull on the ropes.

Creak—

The sound of the winding chains echoed as the heavy solid oak gate was lifted. The horsemen, who had fled in disarray, entered the Wall, still hunched over their horses.

"Hey, brother, what happened?"

A brother of the Night's Watch, dressed in black, helped the horsemen down from their mounts. Only then did he realize the severity of their injuries.

One of the horsemen even had a large hole in his abdomen, as if a hand had pierced through his belly, spilling his intestines and guts out.

This horseman had been dead for some time, his body already cold and stiff. His legs were still tightly clamped to the horse, preventing his body from falling off during the ride. The horse had followed the others back.

It took several brothers of the Night's Watch a great deal of effort to lift him off the horse. His body was laid on a wooden board on the ground, still maintaining the posture of a rider.

All the brothers of the Night's Watch who had rushed to the scene fell silent at the sight.

The other horsemen who had returned were also injured, their faces pale and vacant. It was unclear what they had encountered, but they seemed to have suffered a great shock.

Benjen Stark, the Chief Ranger, was the best off among the returned horsemen, but even he had a shocking scratch on his back, tearing his cloak and leaving a long mark on his body.

"This injury..."

"Benjen, what scratched you?"

A brother of the Night's Watch asked in surprise.

However, Benjen lowered his head and remained silent for a moment.

"Hmm..."

He then let out a long breath, shook his head slightly, and said nothing.

At this moment.

Upon hearing that the horsemen, who had been out of contact for several days, had finally returned, Jeor Mormont, the 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, descended from the high command tower to the scene.

The old commander's bald head had a few lonely white hairs fluttering in the wind. His fluffy gray-white beard also swayed a few times. In his hand, he held a half-hand sword with a bear's head carved on the hilt.

This was the Mormont family's ancestral Valyrian steel sword—Longclaw.

"Lord Commander."

"Lord Mormont."

Seeing the Lord Commander arrive, the watching Night's Watchmen made way.

Jeor Mormont arrived at the scene, parted the crowd, and saw the miserable state of the horsemen sitting on the ground. He frowned slightly, looked up at the Chief Ranger, and asked,

"Benjen, what exactly happened?"

Mormont knew that Benjen was a mature and experienced commander. His horsemen had never suffered such heavy losses when out on operations. Could it be that they had encountered an ambush by the wildlings?

The Chief Ranger, hearing the Lord Commander's words, looked somewhat pale. He took a deep breath, then grabbed Mormont's extended hand, stood up from the ground, and exhaled a white mist.

"Lord Commander, let's talk privately."

"Call Maester Aemon as well."

"Oh?"

Upon hearing Benjen's words, Jeor Mormont's old, yellow eyes slightly narrowed. He looked intently into Benjen's eyes for a long while
before nodding slightly. His voice was hoarse as he spoke.

"Alright."

"We'll discuss this matter back in the room."

Then Mormont turned to Bowen Marsh, the Chief Steward standing next to him.

"Bowen, go get Maester Aemon."

"Yes, Lord Commander."

The Chief Steward, who looked like a plump, red pomegranate, agreed. He gave Benjen Stark a nod and a greeting, then headed towards the rookery. The maester's quarters were right below the rookery.

"Hmm."

Benjen Stark also nodded slightly.

He then turned his gaze to the other horsemen present. These men had been briefed by Benjen beforehand and nodded to indicate they would keep the matter confidential.

Benjen then followed the Lord Commander, ascending the wooden steps of the command tower.

The old commander walked slowly ahead, with the Chief Ranger following behind. Both men were silent on the way up. The steps creaked under their weight. When they reached the door, a key was produced to unlock it.

"Come in."

Mormont gestured, and Benjen followed him into the Lord Commander's room, closing the door behind him.

A birdcage hung on the wall inside the room, with a raven inside, tilting its head to look at Benjen Stark.

"Speak, Benjen."

"What exactly did you encounter?"

The Lord Commander, out of breath from climbing the stairs, sat down in the chair next to his desk and took a sip of hot water from his cup.

He looked up and asked.

The Chief Ranger, still looking rather disheveled, stood in the center of the room, his head lowered as he organized his thoughts. Then he looked up again, his voice hoarse as he spoke.

"We encountered the Others, Lord Commander."

At Benjen's words, Mormont was taken aback, then instinctively shook his head in denial.

"Impossible!"

He had expected Benjen to give some sort of explanation, but he hadn't expected such a poor excuse.

"Benjen..."

Mormont was somewhat disappointed.

He had thought that Benjen and his horsemen had encountered an ambush by the wildlings and had suffered heavy losses before fleeing back in disarray.

Afraid of punishment, they had agreed on a story before returning to Castle Black.

People make mistakes. Old Mormont had made many mistakes in his youth, but acknowledging and correcting them was the right path.

So, he had given this young man a chance to save face by discussing the matter privately.

But to his disappointment, Benjen did not admit his mistake and even came up with such a poor excuse.

"I'm not lying, Lord Mormont."

Benjen was slightly taken aback, not expecting the Lord Commander to disbelieve his words. He quickly retorted.

At that moment.

A shaky figure appeared at the door of the Lord Commander's bedroom. The old man, leaning against the door frame, spoke in a hoarse, trembling voice.

"The Others haven't been seen for thousands of years."

"Lord Stark."

"Just saying this won't convince the Lord Commander..."

"You need to prove you're not lying."

Chapter 232: The Night's Watch Expedition

Maester Aemon, dressed in a gray robe, his blind white eyes wide open, walked in shakily, leaning on the door frame for support.

Thousands of years, though easy to say, is a span of time so vast that it's impossible to relate to events that happened so long ago. Even language, writing, and physical appearances have changed significantly.

It was impossible for Benjen to convince Mormont of the existence of the Others with just a few words, given that they hadn't been seen for such a long time.

"Maester Aemon."

Upon seeing Maester Aemon's arrival, Benjen quickly stepped forward to support the highly respected old man of the Night's Watch.

He then moved a chair for the nearly hundred-year-old maester to sit down.

Benjen was a very intelligent man. After hearing Maester Aemon's words and thinking for a moment, he understood that the old man was reminding him of something.

The young ranger then lifted his head and spoke to Lord Commander Mormont.

"I have evidence to prove that I'm not lying, Lord Commander."

Benjen then descended from the command tower, beckoning the other brothers of the Night's Watch to carry the body of the ranger to the command tower. He then closed the door again.

"Hmm?"

As the body of the ranger was brought up, Mormont, sitting in his chair, gripped the hilt of his sword and stood up.

He walked over to the body, his face somewhat solemn.

He hadn't paid much attention to the body when it was first brought in, but now he saw it clearly.

The ranger had a shocking, large hole in his abdomen, and his insides had even been pulled out.

This kind of injury was indeed difficult for humans to inflict, and the weapons used by the wildlings couldn't cause such damage. It was as if a hand had been plunged into his abdomen.

"I saw the creature plunge its hand into Cole's stomach and pull out his intestines."

Benjen's voice was low.

"Cole cut off the pulled-out intestines with his sword, climbed onto his horse, and fled with us."

The Chief Ranger glanced at Mormont's face, then turned his head to look at the brother lying on the ground. His face was somewhat gloomy as he spoke.

Just hearing Benjen's description of the scene was chilling enough.

Although this brother had escaped the pursuit of the Others, he didn't survive and died on the way.

"This kind of injury can't be inflicted by wildlings, Lord Mormont."

"The other rangers can vouch for me."

Benjen continued, looking at Mormont's face.

However, Mormont's face remained solemn. He squatted down and gently touched the wound on Cole's abdomen. After a moment of silence, he raised his head.

"Just the injury alone can't confirm that this was definitely the work of the Others, and the other rangers might have already agreed with your story."

"Lord Commander!"

Upon hearing the Lord Commander's words, Benjen looked somewhat anxious and couldn't help but raise his voice.

He didn't know how to prove himself. Being suspected was a minor issue, but delaying the news of the revival of the Others was a major issue.

As a member of the Stark family, he had heard stories about the Others from his wet nurse since he was a child, so he deeply understood the mission of the Stark family.

However, before he could speak, the white-haired old commander stood up from the ground, his eyes sharp as he continued to speak to the Chief Ranger.

"You might be telling the truth, Benjen."

"But as the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I can't make a decision lightly on matters that are still in doubt."

Mormont's voice was hoarse as he raised his hand to pat Benjen's shoulder.

"Think positively, it might not be the Others, but something else you don't know about."

As the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he couldn't make a decision based solely on the words of his subordinates about the sudden reappearance of the Others, who hadn't been seen for thousands of years and had even been forgotten by the people of the South.

He had to witness the appearance of the Others himself, or have more direct and powerful evidence to prove that the Others had indeed revived, before he could ask for help from the king and the Lords behind the Wall.

"Hmm..."

Benjen, patted on the shoulder by Mormont, could only let out a long sigh.

He understood the Lord Commander's predicament, so he nodded again.

"I understand, Lord Mormont."

...

Not long after.

A few more days passed.

The news of the appearance of the Others was kept strictly confidential. A ranger who couldn't keep his mouth shut was laughed at by the other brothers of the Night's Watch, who mocked the rangers for being scared out of their wits.

And Castle Black remained as peaceful as ever. The morning smoke rose slowly, the cooks of the Night's Watch prepared meals, and the soldiers practiced with their wooden swords.

A line of soldiers practicing archery shot arrows at the target, emptied a quiver of arrows, and then, under the instructor's scolding, ran over to retrieve the arrows from the target and continued practicing.

Lord Commander Mormont, for some unknown reason, suddenly organized an expedition. Perhaps it had something to do with the wildlings, or perhaps it had something to do with the recent defeat of the rangers.

Recently, not only Castle Black, but also Shadow Tower, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and other places have received reports from rangers, indicating that more and more wildlings have appeared in the Haunted Forest, as if they were being driven by something.

So Mormont organized this expedition with the intention of driving all these wildlings back to their homes.

However, this was just Mormont's official reason. The force he organized was not very large, probably only about a hundred men.

All the rangers who had recently returned in fear refused to participate, finding all sorts of excuses.

Only Benjen Stark was willing to join and lead the way for this expedition.

No one in the Night's Watch knew the terrain north of the Wall better than the rangers.

So, after breakfast that morning, all the brothers of the Night's Watch who were participating in the expedition packed enough dry food, mostly dried beef and hard bread.

Then the oak gate was opened again, and more than a hundred Night's Watch soldiers rode their horses into the Haunted Forest, trudging through the thick snow.

Benjen Stark was at the very front of the group.

Two days later, they found the place where they had fought in the Haunted Forest, not far from Craster's Keep.

"This..."

Seeing the scene here, Benjen's breathing became somewhat rapid, his eyes turned red as if recalling some unpleasant memories. He drew his long sword from his waist while sitting on his horse.

All the brothers of the Night's Watch present, including Lord Commander Mormont, were stunned by the sight before them.

"This is..."

What appeared before them was not a chaotic battlefield, but a pyramid made of human heads.

As if knowing they would definitely return, all the bloody heads were facing the direction the Night's Watch had come from.

Among them were many faces they recognized, as well as the heads of wildlings.

And on the ground, there were dead arms surrounding
the pyramid.

They were neatly arranged in a pattern they didn't recognize, which looked like a sun.

Mormont's face was grim, his old eyes fixed on the pyramid of human heads.

But the next second.

All the heads opened their mouths at the same time, letting out a sharp scream.

...

Chapter 233: The Princess of Dorne

Compared to the cold desolation of the Wall, the climate of Pentos was much more pleasant. Although the arrival of winter had significantly lowered the temperature, it was still within a tolerable range.

From a distance, a cavalry unit carrying banners of three-headed dragons approached, their horses' hooves clattering on the smooth cobblestone road. They were escorting a low-key caravan through the city gates of Pentos, entering the grand and majestic ancient city.

"We're finally here," a voice murmured from within the central carriage. The curtains were drawn tightly, concealing the interior. Inside sat a young girl with olive skin, dressed in a sandy yellow dress. She exuded an exotic allure with every move she made. Pinned to her ample chest was a badge featuring a golden spear piercing the sun.

"Is this Pentos?" The girl from Dorne curiously lifted a corner of the carriage curtain, looking out at the world beyond. Her uncle, Oberyn, was currently stationed in some desolate camp east of Andalos as a legion commander and couldn't leave his post to welcome her. However, Oberyn had sent a letter, warning her not to show her face in public.

Although the girl was somewhat rebellious and unwilling to heed the words of her cunning father, she was obedient to her uncle's advice. Otherwise, given her personality, she would have jumped out long ago. Many in Dorne even believed that she was more like her uncle Oberyn than her father, Prince Doran.

"There are so many people."

"This place is even bigger than Sunspear."

The Dornish girl hidden in the carriage had deep black eyes, a high nose, a delicate chin, slightly dark skin, and a head of black curly hair. At the moment, she was curiously peering out, seemingly fascinated by everything here. After all, this was her first time traveling so far from home.

Although she was only fifteen this year, the girl had an unusually good figure, with tight thighs and a full chest. She was Arianne Martell, the eldest daughter of Prince Doran, and the other main character in Viserys' betrothal.

In the distance, she could see the Nine Towers Palace, towering over the edge of the sea. As Arianne had said, the population and scale of the buildings here far surpassed Sunspear, the capital of Dorne.

"Who exactly is Viserys?" Looking at the distant Nine Towers Palace, Arianne suddenly became curious about what kind of person her betrothed was. Why, despite being of a similar age to her, could he accomplish so much? Compared to him, her peers were still playing prince and princess games.

Last year, she left Dorne and embarked on a Martell family merchant ship bound for Andalos. Her father, Prince Doran, hoped that she would develop a relationship with Viserys first. Therefore, her original destination was Andalos. However, at the last stop, she heard about the dramatic changes in Pentos and the news of the 'Bloody Night'.

The dragons of House Targaryen had burned the prince's palace in Pentos, killed all the Magisters, and seized the entire city-state. Therefore, Arianne decided to change her itinerary on the spot, not going to Andalos, and ordered the family's merchant ship to head straight for Pentos.

She was also very much looking forward to meeting her betrothed, as almost everyone was talking about how handsome Viserys was, like a prince out of a fairy tale. Her uncle Oberyn also emphasized several times in his letters that Viserys was so handsome he could make people swo
on, and was the most handsome man he had ever seen. Arianne had always thought that handsome men were her weakness, so she was very eager to meet her betrothed soon.

Meanwhile, in the city of Pentos, Princess Arianne was riding in a carriage heading for the Nine Towers Palace where Viserys was staying. Unfortunately, Arianne's arrival had not been announced in advance, and Viserys was not in the palace at the moment. Instead, he was at the home of his appointed personal advisor, Jon Connington.

Jon Connington had come to Pentos two years ago after leaving the Golden Company, living under a pseudonym and arranged by Illyrio to become a member of the city's guard. Later, he became a captain of the guard due to his abilities. He had been living in Pentos all these years, and because of his 'integrity', Jon, who had been a captain for more than a year, hadn't gained too many benefits.

Everyone in the guard had taken full advantage, but Jon, just because he took a little less due to his conscience, became a representative of 'integrity', deeply loved by the merchants.

Even so, Jon's more than a year as a captain had allowed him to buy a house in the expensive city of Pentos, on the edge of the city, right next to the city wall. There were very few people in Jon's house, just a pretty brown-haired maid and a blue-haired boy who looked about eight or nine years old.

"This is my son, Aegon," Jon introduced, looking a bit nervous.

Today, he had suddenly invited Viserys to his home as a guest without mentioning what he wanted to do. Jon felt a bit abrupt after he spoke. However, since the words were already out, he couldn't take them back. He regretted it a bit, but could only look at Viserys with a stiff expression.

Viserys, after hearing Jon's invitation, looked at him for a long time. Just when Jon thought Viserys was going to refuse, he nodded in agreement.

"Alright."

Then Viserys, with a small escort, followed Jon Connington to his home. Hearing Jon's introduction, Viserys looked at the blue-haired boy who seemed a bit shy. The boy was also sneaking glances at Viserys, especially at his shining silver-gold hair and those magnificent light purple eyes.

"Aegon, say hello to His Majesty," Jon Connington turned to his 'bastard son' and said.

The boy named 'Aegon' was obviously well-educated and sensible. Prompted by his father, he quickly stepped forward, bowed slightly, and greeted, "Your Majesty, good day."

Viserys helped the boy up and patted his shoulder, "Good boy."

Viserys looked the boy up and down, noticing that his hair had obviously been dyed. The roots of his newly grown hair were clearly silver, proving that his original hair color was indeed silver. However, his eyes were not the purple or light purple that Viserys had imagined. Instead, they were a special deep blue color, which looked almost black under the light.

Chapter 234: Aegon

Aegon's gaze towards Viserys was somewhat tense, as if he was aware of some truths. He frequently turned his head to look at his 'father' Jon for help. Jon, however, was at a loss for words and did not respond to Aegon's pleas, which only made the boy more anxious.

However, when Viserys took his hand and asked him some casual questions, the boy's inner tension dissipated considerably, even giving rise to a sense of warmth. This is my uncle... one of the few relatives I have in the world. He even wanted to hug Viserys, but he didn't dare to ask.

This invitation was proposed by Jon Connington himself, not Viserys wanting to visit his home. Therefore, the man with the ash-red hair was torn, and finally mustered the courage to speak.

"Your Majesty."

However, as soon as Jon began to speak, he immediately knelt on one knee.

"I have something to ask for your forgiveness."

Jon suddenly knelt on the ground, and Aegon, who was being held by Viserys, and the maid on the other side were not surprised, just a little nervous, because they already knew what Jon was going to say.

Seeing Jon suddenly kneel and say such words, Viserys raised an eyebrow.

"Jon, what do you mean by this?"

The young king still pretended to be surprised, looking at the other party, then reached out and pulled Jon up from the ground.

"What do I need to forgive you for?"

"Did you not prepare food and wine in advance for the king's visit to your home?"

Viserys made a joke, and the atmosphere in the room instantly relaxed.

Jon Connington was also pulled up from the ground by Viserys, shaking his head with a bitter smile on his face.

"Good food and wine have naturally been prepared for Your Majesty."

"But what I hope Your Majesty will forgive is the sin of deceiving the king."

Hearing Jon say this, the smile on Viserys' face receded slightly.

"Oh?"

"Why do you say that?"

Viserys' change in expression and words immediately made 'little Aegon', who was holding his hand, and the maid next to him, feel their hearts rise again.

The boy with blue hair had sweat in his palms, constantly turning his head to look at the expressions on his adoptive father and uncle's faces, his breathing also somewhat heavy.

Jon, facing Viserys' serious gaze, didn't know why he felt a bit uneasy, perhaps because he had done something guilty.

Then Jon gritted his teeth and spoke again.

"Your Majesty once asked me if I had any family left, and at that time I answered that I had a son, Aegon."

"But Aegon is not actually my son."

There was only one woman and one child present, Jon had no one else to rely on, so he mustered the courage to speak directly.

As soon as his words fell, all eyes in the room immediately focused on the boy being held by Viserys.

"Oh?"

Viserys also looked down at him, and Aegon, holding his hand tightly, looked up at him as well.

At first, the boy was very nervous.

He kept recalling the teachings of his teacher Halton, telling Aegon to learn from his powerful uncle.

His uncle Viserys had done many earth-shattering things when he was only eight years old.

And now he was a year older than his uncle was then, yet he was trembling under his gaze, which aroused the boy's competitiveness.

Aegon held Viserys' hand tightly, trying to straight
en his back and widen his eyes, hoping to make himself look more formidable.

However, these actions only made him laugh helplessly.

Viserys gently ruffled the boy's hair, then looked up at Jon and asked, "Jon."

"If Aegon is not your son, then who is his father?"

Jon's face was still full of bitterness, facing Viserys' seemingly ordinary question, he was silent for a long time.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became tense, and this time all eyes were focused on Jon.

Then the man with ash-red hair took a deep breath and finally spoke.

"What I'm about to say may seem unbelievable to you, but I assure you it's true."

"Aegon's biological father is your elder brother, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."

"And his mother is Princess Elia Martell of Dorne."

"His name is not 'Aegon', but Aegon Targaryen."

Jon said a lot of shocking secrets in one breath, then saw that Viserys' face was still very calm, just showing a little surprise.

The man with ash-red hair was a bit puzzled, wondering why Viserys didn't show a shocked expression.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem surprised."

"Did you already know?"

Jon couldn't help asking as he looked at the calm Viserys.

Hearing Jon's question, Viserys finally came back to his senses.

He had been wondering why Jon chose to hide this secret before and why he suddenly revealed it now.

What was the factor that caused this change, who was influencing Jon's decision, so he was a little distracted.

"Oh, no."

"I didn't know."

After being reminded by Jon, Viserys quickly shook his head.

"I was just too shocked, I didn't expect such a result."

"So much so... I was stunned."

"Yes."

Viserys tried hard to prove with his body and language that he was just stunned, not distracted.

He was very sure.

Then his gaze turned to 'Aegon', who was holding his hand, no, now it should be 'Aegon Targaryen'.

Then Viserys put away the surprised expression he had just pretended on his face, raised his head again and asked.

"But as far as I know, my nephew Aegon was brutally killed by the Mountain when the Red Keep fell."

Not only did Viserys know, but it was also common knowledge that during the fall of the Red Keep, the Kingslayer killed the Mad King with a sword from behind, Princess Elia of Dorne was raped and killed by the Mountain, and her infant son Aegon was also brutally killed.

This was known to everyone, and almost every citizen of King's Landing knew it.

"No."

Jon, unaware that Viserys already knew, continued to explain seriously.

It was probably that the baby killed by the Mountain during the fall of King's Landing was a farmer's child placed there by Master of Whisperers Varys, who then hid Aegon.

After the usurper mistakenly believed that little Aegon was dead, Varys quietly sent Aegon across the Narrow Sea.

Chapter 235: The Sand Snake Sisters

The news of finding Aegon Targaryen did not cause a great stir in Pentos, as the Targaryen surname was still somewhat unfamiliar to the city-state. However, for the dwindling Targaryen family, it was a significant event.

Young Aegon washed the dye from his hair, revealing his natural color, a head of silver-gold hair, though it seemed dull compared to Viserys' radiant hair. His eyes appeared to be deep blue, looking somewhat black under the light, and only had a hint of purple in the twilight.

Jon's explanation was that Aegon's mother, Elia, had dark eyes, and young Aegon inherited his father's silver hair but his mother's dark eyes. Just like his sister Rhaenys, who had brown hair and dark eyes, and apart from her beautiful appearance, she had no Targaryen features.

Viserys did not comment on this, whether he was a true dragon, a cloth dragon, or a Blackfyre, he had his own measure. Indeed, there was no better way to verify parentage in this era. When the Targaryens had dragons, there were princes and princesses who had no connection with the dragons.

Long ago, when he was still a Targaryen prince in the Red Keep, he had seen Aegon in his swaddling clothes. At that time, young Aegon was just a baby, held by his sister-in-law Elia. Even though Viserys remembered what young Aegon looked like at that time, he couldn't compare it to the eight or nine-year-old boy now.

Subsequently, Viserys took young Aegon back to the palace where he was staying. It was then that he learned that he had visitors.

In the palace garden not far away, several elegantly dressed girls were admiring the surrounding scenery. Although most of the flowers in the palace garden had withered with the arrival of winter, there were still a few plants that could survive the winter sprouting green buds.

Viserys, holding young Aegon, rode his beautiful white warhorse, with a black and red cloak embroidered with a three-headed dragon emblem draped over the horse's back. His silver-gold hair was tied back with a hairband and hung on the cloak behind him, with two strands of hair fluttering in the wind. Viserys held young Aegon with one hand and the reins with the other.

"Your Majesty," a guard said a few words to Viserys.

"Oh?" The young man on horseback looked somewhat surprised, raised his head to look at the group of girls not far away, then nodded and jumped down from the horse.

A guard from the palace took the reins from Viserys and led the horse away, and the young king waved to a passing maid. "Come here."

"Your Majesty," the maids hurried over and bowed.

Viserys, holding the boy's hand, gave a few instructions to the maids, then lowered his head to pat young Aegon's shoulder. He then handed the boy over to them to arrange a place to stay in the palace.

Meanwhile, not far away, the beautifully dressed Dornish girls also noticed Viserys and recognized him at a glance. They huddled together, whispering something, then burst into a fit of giggles. The other girls poked the olive-skinned Dornish girl in the middle, who was wearing a sandy yellow dress, and then they all walked towards Viserys.

"Melted silver hair, violet eyes, you must be the master of this palace... King Viserys Targaryen," the Dornish girl slightly lifted her skirt, gently curtsying. "My name is Arianne, my father is the Prince of Dorne, Doran Nymeros Martell."

Arianne's curtsy was very standard, in line with the etiquette of a noble girl, and she seemed to exude a ladylike aura. However, she subtly emphasized her figure in some minor movements. At the same time, Arianne's beautiful eyes were quietly roaming on Viserys' handsome face, like a magnet.

Arianne was extremely satisfied with the silver-haired, cool-eyed young man in front of her. Although Viserys did not have the adventurous and forbidden temperament that Arianne liked, his appearance was so outstanding that it could crush all the men she had ever seen. Especially his pair of eyes, which deeply attracted Arianne's attention, and once she was drawn in, she didn't want to pull away.

At this moment, "Your Majesty," "Your Majesty," the other three Dornish girls surrounding Arianne Martell also stepped forward, slightly bowing. The oldest of them was quite robust, tall, with long, powerful legs, and a steel whip strapped to her back. She looked to be about twenty years old.

"Your Majesty," "My name is Obara Sand."

The oldest girl had a rather ordinary face, and her voice was not very pleasant, sounding a bit dull and hoarse, unlike the usual sweet voice of a girl. Then Obara turned to introduce her other sisters to Viserys.

"This is my sister, Nymeria Sand."

The second girl was slender, her black hair braided and tied with a red-gold cord. Her skin was milky white, and her face was much prettier than her sister Obara's.

The third and youngest girl was named Tyene Sand, with golden hair and blue eyes. Tyene's smile was very sweet, and she even secretly winked at Viserys, rubbing her chest with her finger.

"We are the bastard daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell."

After introducing all her sisters with her husky voice, Obara, the eldest of the 'Sand Snakes', turned to look at Viserys. "Your Majesty."

However, Viserys took all this in with calmness, only lingering a bit longer on Tyene's face, then looking at Obara and nodding slightly. "The Sand Snake sisters," "I've heard of you from your father."

Back then, Oberyn even joked with Viserys. If it weren't for the fact that his daughters were all bastards and couldn't match Viserys, he would even want to marry his daughters to him, even as a mistress.

Oberyn himself was naturally licentious and had no qualms about love affairs. It was known that during the Targaryen dynasty, not every noble girl had the chance to become a mistress of the Targaryen family, let alone bear his child.

Viserys merely glanced at the Sand Snakes, then turned his gaze to Arianne Martell, nodded and said. "Welcome, Your Royal Highness, to Pentos."

…

Chapter 236: The Date

After exchanging greetings, the Sand Snake girls tactfully excused themselves. They were all close friends of Arianne, and although the relationship between Prince Doran and his daughter Arianne was not harmonious, he was still somewhat worried about sending his daughter across the sea.

So, he sent Oberyn's three older daughters from Dorne to accompany Arianne, so she wouldn't be too lonely. Coincidentally, this also brought these unruly girls to their irresponsible father, Oberyn, for some discipline.

As the Sand Snake girls left, the youngest, Tyene, who appeared to be only fourteen or fifteen, once again gave Viserys a sweet smile and gently bit her red lip. Her fingers slowly lifted her skirt and slid up her thigh...

However, this time her sneaky actions were noticed by the eldest Sand Snake, Obara. The tall woman's face immediately darkened.

But she didn't react directly, fearing Arianne would notice. Ignoring Tyene's protests, she roughly grabbed her sister's shoulder and carried her away.

"Harlot!"

Obara scolded Tyene in a low voice after they had walked away.

However, Arianne, lacking Viserys' acute senses, did not hear this.

Viserys and Arianne watched the Sand Snakes leave, then the young king's gaze returned to the exotic girl before him.

"Princess, what were you discussing just now?"

Viserys asked, making an inviting gesture.

"We were discussing the flowers in the garden."

Arianne walked beside Viserys, and they strolled and chatted in the garden.

"The flowers in the palace are beautiful, but most of them have withered. However, the flowers of Dorne will never fade."

"Oh?"

Viserys, hearing Arianne's words, glanced at the wilted flowers in the garden.

He usually didn't have time to stroll in the garden and only noticed after Arianne's reminder. He then shook his head slightly.

"Winter has come."

"Sunspear is near the Summer Sea, naturally enjoying the good weather of the four seasons, which is enviable."

When winter comes to Westeros, Dorne's warm climate is envied. However, when Westeros enters the long summer, Dorne has problems with heat and drought.

Therefore, compared to the other six kingdoms, the people of Dorne actually look forward to the arrival of winter, at least it can lower the temperature a bit.

Hearing Viserys' praise, Arianne's lips curled up slightly, but she was still modest and just smiled.

"But..."

Viserys' words took a slight turn, and he looked up and down at Arianne's attire.

"Dorne may be warm, but Pentos is not a season suitable for wearing thin clothes, Princess."

He noticed that Arianne's attire seemed a bit thin.

Although the winter temperature in Pentos is not very low, it seemed unreasonable for Arianne to still be wearing thin clothes.

"Your Majesty can call me Arianne."

However, the girl, perhaps in her youthful and energetic period, was full of warmth and didn't care about the cold that Viserys mentioned.

"Alright, Princess Arianne."

Viserys nodded slightly.

Hearing Viserys' address, Arianne pouted slightly, then pretended to be displeased.

"Your Majesty can remove the 'princess' title, it seems silly to call myself a princess in front of the king of the Seven Kingdoms."

Arianne's mind was very sharp, she was probing what Viserys wanted to hear in their initial conversation, such as calling him

'the king of the Seven Kingdoms'.

She thought that as the exiled king of the Targaryens, Viserys must have a deep obsession with the Iron Throne.

However, Viserys only chuckled at her cleverness and casual flattery, then spoke.

"So... Arianne, did Prince Doran send you here with any special instructions?"

As the princess of Dorne visiting Pentos, Viserys naturally couldn't neglect her. After all, Dorne is currently the most staunch ally of the Targaryens, almost impossible to betray him.

Their alliance is gradually becoming unbreakable.

He and Arianne Martell had been making small talk for a while, and now it was finally time to get to the point. Viserys asked directly.

He knew that a man as thoughtful as Prince Doran wouldn't send his daughter here without a purpose.

And Prince Doran loved to write letters. Over the years, Prince Doran had sent Viserys more than a dozen letters. This time, his daughter's arrival must also bring a letter from Prince Doran himself.

Many things would be troublesome to discuss with Arianne, he just needed to read Prince Doran's letter himself.

After all, although Arianne is Prince Doran's daughter, she doesn't have the power to make decisions for him, and this girl is clearly not a simple person, with a strong sense of initiative.

However, when Arianne heard Viserys' words, her face clearly showed displeasure.

And this time, she was genuinely a bit unhappy.

"Hmph."

Arianne huffed, pouted, and stared at Viserys with her black eyes.

"Prince Doran, Prince Doran, why is it always about my father and never about me in everyone's mouth?"

Just as Viserys had judged, although Arianne was only fifteen, she had great ambition.

Due to the influence of Rhoynar culture, some of Dorne's systems were different from the other six kingdoms of Westeros, such as gender equality.

In Dorne, lovers and mistresses are not serious moral issues.

Therefore, Oberyn didn't mind saying that he wanted his daughter to be Viserys' mistress, and it would be even better if she could bear a child.

And on the issue of inheritance, Dorne practices that daughters also have the right to inherit.

Therefore, Arianne is ahead of her brother Quentyn Martell in the line of succession to Sunspear.

Over the years, Prince Doran has been insistent on sending Arianne away as soon as possible, using various means to persuade Viserys to agree to the marriage proposal, considering this aspect.

The girl is a bit willful, perhaps in her rebellious period.

She complained about why everyone only saw her father and not her, but she didn't realize that the attention she received now, even the marriage proposal with Viserys, was all because of her father's influence.

But although Arianne was a bit angry, she still tried to maintain a good impression in front of Viserys, so she pouted and then turned her anger into coquetry.

"You can call me Arianne, then can I call you Viserys?"

Once, Viserys had received royal etiquette training, which included how to interact with ladies and win their hearts.

But at this moment, Viserys just shook his head and smiled.

In his eyes, Arianne was just a slightly cunning but immature girl.

"Sure."

Viserys nodded.

"Hmph."

When Arianne heard Viserys agree, her eyes seemed to curve as if she wanted to laugh, but she still restrained herself and huffed again.

Then, somewhat reluctantly, she took a letter from her bosom and handed it to him.

Chapter 237: Prince Doran's Letter

The contents of Prince Doran's letter were not complex, mainly conveying his greetings and blessings, hoping that the two young people could get along well.

However, at the same time, Prince Doran also mentioned some of the situation in the Seven Kingdoms.

Winter has come.

This is a disaster that the entire world cannot avoid. Even though the continent of Essos is not directly adjacent to the Lands of Always Winter and thus not greatly affected, the temperature has still noticeably dropped.

Viserys watched Arianne's departing figure, then glanced at the withered flowers in the garden, and finally returned his gaze to Prince Doran's handwritten letter.

This letter from Prince Doran was written a long time ago.

The North was the most directly affected by the onset of winter. At that time, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell wrote to King's Landing for help, and King Robert ordered the Riverlands to supply food to the North, helping the people there survive the harsh winter.

It must be said that Robert was quite righteous towards his good brother, not choosing to stand by when the North needed help the most, but actively offering assistance.

However, the purse that King Robert opened was not his own, but the food of the House Tyrell.

After all, everyone knows that the Tyrells are a big hound, especially in terms of food. The Riverlands, with its pleasant climate and rich resources, is the main food production area of the Seven Kingdoms.

However, although King Robert was generous with others' money, he did not completely treat Lord Tyrell as a fool.

As compensation, Robert Baratheon promised Mace Tyrell a 'Queen's position'.

Of course, it wasn't that the burly Robert was going to marry the plump and foolish Lord Tyrell, but rather that he was setting up a marriage for their children in advance.

King Robert proposed a marriage between his eldest son, Joffrey, and Mace Tyrell's daughter, Margaery Tyrell.

According to the laws of the Seven Kingdoms and the traditional customs of Westeros, barring any unforeseen circumstances, Joffrey Baratheon would be the next king of the Seven Kingdoms.

Therefore, King Robert compensated the Tyrell family with a priceless queen's position, while also facilitating a marriage alliance between the two families.

House Tyrell was very satisfied with this, as they also needed a future queen's position to consolidate their family's influence in the Seven Kingdoms.

However, King Robert's moves were not limited to these. It was clear that he had capable people among his ministers who foresaw the inevitable war for the Iron Throne.

Therefore, they advised King Robert, helping him consolidate his current base.

At the same time, they also took the initiative in foreign policy, actively seeking ways to encircle the Targaryens.

They lobbied the Free Cities, led by Braavos, to be wary and even hostile to the Targaryens, and actively infiltrated their forces.

The secret connection between Dorne and the Targaryens is a secret known to everyone in the Seven Kingdoms but not publicly acknowledged.

However, Robert's confidant, Petyr Baelish, who has recently become a favorite in his court through the recommendation of Hand of the King Jon Arryn, does not advocate taking action against Dorne this winter.

First, because Dorne's geographical environment is complex, the climate is arid, and the people of Dorne are fierce. Even the Conqueror Aegon once suffered a bloody nose there.

Second, the timing of winter is not suitable for expeditions. Now it is the harsh winter, and
the Seven Kingdoms are suffering from a food shortage. Even the rich Riverlands cannot possibly support so many people.

If at this time, the young and strong are drawn from their homes to go to war in Dorne, it is almost like letting those poor families self-destruct.

If Dorne cannot be taken, I'm afraid the nobles' own homes will be in chaos.

Therefore, Petyr Baelish proposed a bold idea, wanting to arrange a marriage between Princess Myrcella Baratheon, who was born just last year, and Prince Doran's eldest son, Quentyn Martell.

However, as soon as Baelish's plan was proposed, it was opposed by King Robert and Queen Cersei.

"Seven hells! You fool!"

"Myrcella is only one year old and still nursing in that woman Cersei's arms, while that Martell boy is already ten years old!"

Robert sat at the head of the round table and took a big gulp of wine from his cup.

Thud—

Then he slammed the wine glass heavily on the table, splashing wine everywhere, and cursed loudly.

The two people have a full nine-year age difference, which is not a big deal for the game of noble marriages.

Not to mention a nine-year difference, even twenty or thirty years is not uncommon.

However, perhaps because Robert had just drunk a lot of wine, his head was a bit dizzy at the moment, and he didn't notice that when he said this, the faces of the two people present turned black.

One was the old Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, who had married the Tully sisters with his foster son Ned during the War of the Usurper.

The other was Cersei, whom Robert referred to as 'that woman'.

The noble blonde woman looked a bit displeased, glaring fiercely at her husband who was drunk and loose-lipped. A deep disgust flashed in her eyes.

However, Cersei hid it well and did not make a scene.

Then she took a deep breath, looked at Petyr Baelish who had proposed this idea, bit her white teeth lightly, and spoke with a cold voice.

"Lord Baelish, Dorne has a deep hatred for the king and the Lannister family."

"And my daughter is only one year old, and you dare to have designs on her?"

Cersei tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on Littlefinger, making Baelish feel a bit hairy. He quickly stood up, raised his hands, and explained.

"Your Majesty, Your Grace, please hear me out."

Although Petyr Baelish was a little flustered inside, he remained calm on the surface and explained loudly.

"Princess Myrcella is only one year old now, of course she will not marry Prince Quentyn now."

"Even if she were to marry, it would have to wait until Princess Myrcella has her first menstruation, and that would be a matter of more than a decade from now."

"This is just an opportunity to draw the Martell family closer and create a rift between the Targaryens and the Martells."

Littlefinger was desperately explaining his plan.

He was not trying to sell the princess for peace, but a plan to sow discord and delay the war.

"The Martell family asked Viserys for a queen's position that is not yet visible and did not get a positive response, while the king gives Dorne a princess who is visible and tangible."

"By then, I'm afraid Dorne will have to think carefully. Hatred can be put aside, but interest is eternal."

…

Chapter 238: A Special Arrangement

At this moment, Viserys, having finished reading the handwritten letter from Prince Doran, stood alone in the palace garden, deep in thought. Arianne had already left, and the servants passing by did not dare to disturb his contemplation.

In his letter, Prince Doran explained that he had informed Viserys of the proposed royal marriage to prevent any misunderstandings from arising due to certain rumors. The Martell family indeed had no reason to refuse the royal proposal. Viserys was not yet ready to cross the Narrow Sea to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, and Dorne could not afford to fall out with the Iron Throne and bear the brunt of Robert's wrath.

Dorne's current stance of indecision was the best choice, as it could withstand the pressure from King's Landing. If Dorne were to sever ties with the Targaryens and pledge allegiance to the Iron Throne, it would only arouse suspicion.

Viserys could understand Prince Doran's choice, but that did not mean he could accept it. If Dorne chose to betray him when he landed in Westeros in the future, the cost would be too great for Viserys to bear...

The setting sun cast long shadows, and the silver-haired young man's features were soft and three-dimensional, his pale purple eyes always shimmering with a calm light. A breeze blew, causing his silver hair to slide over his nose and obstruct his vision. Viserys slowly came back to his senses.

Prince Doran's letter, besides its explicit meaning, also contained many subtle hints. He believed that a smart person like Viserys should be able to understand them. Prince Doran was never a person to be taken lightly, and although they were thousands of miles apart, Viserys felt as if he could see the man's silhouette in this simple piece of paper.

"Never mind."

Viserys then relaxed his brows and stopped thinking about it. It was still too early to worry about this matter. Although he had been in this world for many years, his worldview had not changed too drastically, and in some ways, Viserys still held onto his old ideas.

Viserys did not ponder further on this matter and returned to his bedroom. This magnificent palace was much better than the castle he had in Andalos.

The palace was vast, located on a hill in the city of Pentos. From here, one could see the sea and the entire city-state. The courtyard was clean and tidy, with carved beams and painted pillars, and even exquisite reliefs on the walls, recording the history of the people of Pentos.

Viserys planned to move the administrative center of House Targaryen to Pentos in the future. Pentos had a strong economic and war potential and could serve as the engine for the kingdom. He intended to designate this palace as the royal castle in this prosperous city-state.

However, he had not yet thought of a name for it. This place had never had a name before. Viserys wanted to give it a name that was not inferior to the Red Keep, as simple and concise as possible, yet grand and imposing.

"Dragon Keep..."

"Or Dragon... Palace?"

At this point, Viserys suddenly felt at a loss for words and couldn't help but scratch his head. He then placed Prince Doran's letter under a book on his bedroom desk and called out to the door.

"Come in."

"Your Majesty."

The guard outside the door immediately entered upon hearing Viserys's call.

"Go find Ramsay."

Viserys pulled out a piece of paper and sat at the desk, writing something. It looked like a draft, and he spoke without looking up

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The guard, hearing Viserys's command, nodded and slowly closed the door to find the mysterious 'Head of Internal Affairs'.

Ramsay, who had suddenly arrived in Andalos with a letter from his father, Lord Bolton, was secretly assigned a special position. Even the guards closest to Viserys knew little about Ramsay. He was always busy with mysterious tasks, and whenever there was a dirty job, Viserys would think of him first.

Ramsay didn't mind getting his hands dirty and even took pride in it. In his view, the dirtier his hands, the more important he was to Viserys, and the more power he would hold.

Viserys's personal guard went to find Ramsay, heading straight for the kennels within the palace. This was a piece of territory Ramsay had requested from Viserys, an underground prison not far from the cells holding Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane and the tavern maid from before.

Viserys had killed the Faceless Man who had disguised himself as a beggar prince, while the tavern maid was handed over to Ramsay for interrogation. However, Viserys later heard from his spies in the Internal Affairs department that some unpleasant things had happened.

Apparently, Ramsay had not controlled himself during the interrogation and had used some special punishments on the tavern maid. When Viserys heard this, he frowned, somewhat displeased, but he didn't say much since she was an assassin who had tried to kill him. The next morning, she was to be executed as a warning to the remaining Faceless Men in Pentos.

After that, Ramsay seemed to realize Viserys's displeasure and became much more cautious, not daring to show his face in front of Viserys unless necessary. Until now, when Viserys sought him out again.

Ramsay was found by the guard in the underground kennels and quickly rushed to Viserys's bedroom.

"Your Majesty."

Upon seeing Viserys, Ramsay kneeled on both knees, like a dog wagging its tail. Among all the forces surrounding House Targaryen, no one else would show such a grand gesture to Viserys.

Although it didn't seem to matter on the surface, others expressed their disdain for this mysterious bastard from the North who always lurked in the shadows. Ramsay's subordinates brought him this news, but he turned a deaf ear and continued to do as he pleased.

"Are you here?"

Hearing Ramsay's voice, Viserys finally put down his pen and looked up, speaking calmly. He then handed the piece of paper in his hand to Ramsay.

"Read it and burn it."

Ramsay got up from the ground and took the piece of paper from Viserys, glanced at it, and was slightly taken aback.

"Hmm?"

He then looked up at Viserys incredulously.

Chapter 239: The Courtship

Despite his surprise, Ramsay, being quite clever, didn't voice any questions or doubts.

After reading the contents of the note, he committed it to memory and then, in front of Viserys, burned the note in the candle flame.

"I understand, Your Majesty."

Ramsay once again knelt and bowed his head, then turned and left Viserys's bedroom.

...

Due to the arrival of distinguished guests, tonight's dinner was undoubtedly hosted by Viserys himself.

Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne had changed into an even more magnificent gown, fully displaying her curvaceous figure. Her long, black curls cascaded down her smooth back.

Upon seeing her tonight, Viserys had to admit that the Princess of Dorne was indeed a stunning beauty.

She was voluptuous and beautiful, with a noble status, a high nose, thin lips, and eyes that seemed to possess an inherent allure. Her movements were elegant yet filled with temptation.

The Sand Snakes also attended the Targaryen family banquet. However, compared to Arianne, their beauty seemed somewhat lacking, even Tyene, who was constantly trying to seduce Viserys.

Seeing Viserys's attention entirely on Arianne, the golden-haired beauty couldn't help but pout, placing her knife and fork heavily on her plate.

However, there were many attendees at this family banquet, and the palace dining room was noisy, so no one noticed her. Only her older sister, Obara, once again glared at her troublemaking younger sister.

For now, Obara could still control her younger sisters, but as they grew older, she might find herself increasingly powerless.

Jon Connington, Viserys's newly appointed advisor, also attended the banquet, as did the new Finance Minister Illyrio Mopatis. The Beggar Prince also personally attended the banquet.

Although the Beggar Prince had been forced to slaughter the ruling families of Pentos during the Night of Blood, offending almost all the traditional nobles of Pentos, after ascending to the position of Prince of Pentos, he still wanted to reintegrate into the ranks of these traditional nobles.

So, the Beggar Prince voluntarily returned to his former family and resumed the surname and name he had forgotten for many years.

"Hariman Quic."

As for the previous prince, who bore the surname Rodeny, the Beggar Prince initially wanted to pardon this poor man who shared his plight.

But later, he learned that Prince Rodeny had also been turned to ashes by Viserys's dragon in the palace.

At this family banquet, the recently 'reunited' Aegon naturally attended, sitting next to his foster father Jon, appearing very low-key.

Viserys didn't make a big deal of introducing his nephew, only Arianne paid a little attention to the silver-haired boy.

Then she focused all her attention on Viserys.

Princess Arianne of Dorne sat next to Viserys, her faint fragrance constantly wafting into Viserys's nostrils.

Even during the banquet, Arianne 'accidentally' leaned close to Viserys several times, causing a few physical collisions.

Viserys, however, handled it with great composure, neither resisting nor indulging, maintaining a calm demeanor throughout.

But this only made Arianne more satisfied with Viserys.

After the banquet ended and the guests left, Viserys bent down to ruffle Aegon's hair, showing great affection.

And Aegon, being very sensible and polite, called Viserys 'uncle', and 'accidentally' 'misspoke', calling Arianne 'aunt'.

This
elicited a smile from Arianne, who then gently kissed Aegon on the forehead.

On the other side, Tyene of the Sand Snakes watched this scene with a pout.

She didn't particularly like Viserys, but she enjoyed being the center of attention in any situation.

If she couldn't be the focus, she would feel uncomfortable.

"Hmph, this little devil may be young, but he's quite cunning," Tyene said, watching Arianne gently kiss Aegon's forehead.

The Sand Snakes were all Oberyn's bastards, and before they were found, they lived various lives with their respective mothers.

Their varied life experiences, despite their young age, gave them insights that others lacked.

Tyene saw through Aegon's 'little scheme' at a glance.

Her sister, Nymeria, also watched the scene with cold eyes. Her mother came from a noble family in a trading city-state.

Although Nymeria always looked down on her sisters, at this moment, she agreed with Tyene's point of view.

"People living in royal families are all like this, living with a mask on at all times," Nymeria said with a huff.

"Do you think Arianne doesn't see it, or Viserys doesn't?"

On the other side...

In the small drama observed by the Sand Snakes, Viserys and Aegon had a brief chat, and then Viserys had a maid take the boy to rest early.

Then he took Arianne for a walk outside.

The two had only heard of each other's names before and had never met. However, a marriage contract forced them to come together, which was akin to a form of matchmaking. Most noble men and women were forced together in this way, through balls or matchmaking.

The letter written by Prince Doran was undoubtedly conveying pressure, forcing Viserys to fulfill the promise he had made years ago.

Back then, Viserys had nothing and couldn't refuse Dorne's goodwill, so he could only delay the matter due to his young age.

But this year, he was about to have his coming-of-age ceremony, and he had reached a point where he could no longer delay. After all, Dorne wanted to avenge Princess Elia, but they also had to consider their current interests.

The Iron Throne could promise a princess to Quentyn Martell, but Viserys was dragging his feet even when it came to marrying a wife.

Therefore, Viserys had reached a point where he had to move forward. Although he had no feelings for Arianne at the moment, noble marriages were never about feelings but interests.

A king was just a bigger noble.

Viserys's older brother Rhaegar was a clear example of someone who pursued love and ended up destroying the entire kingdom.

Afterwards, Viserys took Arianne's soft hand and strolled around the palace in the moonlight.

The next day...

A rumor quickly spread throughout the city of Pentos.

Chapter 240: Rumors

A rumor spread rapidly.

Yesterday, Viserys had briefly introduced the identity of young Aegon at the family banquet, but somehow this news had leaked out.

The next day, it began to circulate within a small range in the city of Pentos. However, the spread was very slow and did not cause much of a stir.

After all, the people of Pentos were still somewhat unfamiliar with Viserys, and they were even more baffled about a nephew who suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

However, by the time this matter truly fermented, it was already a month later.

...

Another month passed.

Since the 'Night of Blood', Viserys had been in Pentos for two months.

Pentos gradually emerged from the shadow of the bloody night two months ago, slowly beginning to restore normal order. People seemed to have forgotten that they had a new ruler.

At this time, the rumors about young Aegon that had gradually fermented finally began to spread widely and reached Viserys's ears.

These rumors were roughly divided into several versions. Some said that the suddenly found young Aegon was Jon Connington's illegitimate son.

Others said he was a Valyrian survivor that Illyrio had found somewhere.

After all, in Volantis, Lys, and other places, there were still a large number of silver-haired and purple-eyed people. These were the people who survived the Valyrian Doom.

The last version was that young Aegon was Illyrio's illegitimate son. After all, it was he who handed young Aegon over to Jon Connington. As for where he found young Aegon, that was unknown.

When these rumors reached Viserys's ears, he ordered a thorough investigation into the source of the rumors. However, although a few 'rats' who were spreading rumors were arrested, too much time had passed, and it was impossible to trace the source.

Jon Connington also heard that Viserys was investigating this matter and hurriedly came to the palace on top of the Nine Towers to explain to Viserys in person.

"This must be a plot by the usurper!"

"Your Majesty!"

...

Jon explained to Viserys in a flustered manner.

However, this rumor continued to ferment and crossed the sea to King's Landing on the other side of the Narrow Sea, landing on King Robert's desk.

This information was provided by the Master of Whisperers, Varys. However, the rotund bald man was inwardly cursing.

Many of those present had personally experienced the events of many years ago.

The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, frequently turned his head to look at Varys, his eyes clearly filled with suspicion.

Prince Rhaegar's eldest son, Aegon Targaryen, was killed by the Mountain, who also raped and murdered Elia Martell. Many people in the Seven Kingdoms knew about this.

However, while Princess Elia could not be replaced, a baby could easily be switched.

And Ser Gregor Clegane didn't know young Aegon. He just rushed in, grabbed the child from the woman's arms, and threw him against the wall to kill him.

Afterwards, Lord Tywin was the first to arrive. Although he had seen young Aegon with his own eyes, he couldn't identify the body of a baby whose head had been smashed.

Then Tywin wrapped the bodies of Elia and her child in his golden-red cloak and presented them to Robert Baratheon, who had just entered the city.

From then on, everyone accepted the fact that Elia and her child were dead.

The only remnants of the Targary
ens, apart from Aemon Targaryen who was serving at the Wall and had been forgotten by the world, were Queen Rhaella who had fled with Viserys, the second prince. Viserys had pulled Rhaenys onto the carriage before he fled, effectively saving the girl's life from a terrible fate.

This matter had been a long-buried past.

Apart from Tywin and Varys, who had personally experienced this event, everyone, including Robert and Jon Arryn, believed that the matter had been settled long ago.

No one expected a sudden reversal at this time.

However, Aegon's sudden 'resurrection' didn't actually change anything for the current situation of the Iron Throne.

Because the pillar supporting House Targaryen at the moment was Viserys.

This former second prince of the Targaryen dynasty had raised a large banner on the continent of Essos, conquering a vast territory through his campaigns.

The generals and soldiers under him were not attracted by the Targaryen banner, but by Viserys's personal influence and strength.

Therefore, Aegon's appearance only served as a reassurance to his subordinates before Viserys had any offspring.

Once Viserys had offspring, Aegon would continue to be marginalized, becoming a person who could be present or not.

This matter couldn't be said to be a good thing for the Iron Throne, but it couldn't be said to be a bad thing either.

Everyone knew that Aegon, who had not come out early or late, suddenly jumped out now because he wanted a piece of the pie.

However, Viserys, who knew the ins and outs of this matter, adopted a more tactful approach.

Even if he didn't consider Jon's face, he had to consider Rhaenys's feelings and his brother Rhaegar. He couldn't just cut Aegon down as soon as he appeared.

He couldn't prove that Aegon was really Aegon, but there was no evidence to directly deny it. What if he was real?

Moreover, he wasn't just anyone who jumped out and claimed to be Aegon. Behind him were Jon Connington, Illyrio, Varys, and others. Viserys had to keep him at least.

In any era, bearing the title of 'kinslayer' was no more honorable than Jaime Lannister's 'kingslayer'.

If he really found an excuse to kill Aegon, and then was propagandized by Varys or the Iron Throne or other intelligence forces of the Free Cities who held a grudge, Viserys's reputation would be completely ruined, becoming infamous.

Therefore, the sudden emergence of this matter was a direct test for Viserys. Fortunately, he handled it quite well and eventually regained the initiative.

The forces behind young Aegon that were fanning the flames were troubled by the rumors and were easily marginalized by Viserys.

...

While Pentos and King's Landing were buzzing because of certain rumors.

On the far side of the Dothraki Sea.

In Vaes Dothrak, the only city of the Dothraki people, located at the foot of the Mother of Mountains and next to the Womb of the World lake, also known as the 'City of the Horse Lords'.

This vast city, like Andalos, also had no walls for defense, was filled with slaves plundered by the Dothraki from various places, and the entire city was managed by the Dosh Khaleen, the wives of the deceased Khals.

At this moment.

On the Godsway, which ran through the entire city of Vaes Dothrak.

A khalasar of robust warhorses was passing through, with relics of various gods looted by the Dothraki from all over the world displayed on both sides of the road.

The leading Khal, a tall man riding a warhorse, had a man in a pitiful state tied behind his horse, stumbling along and eating dust.

Chapter 241: Revenge

Not long after, the khalasar finally reached their destination.

"Os!" The Dothraki spoke in their obscure language. The leading Khal dismounted and handed his reins to his bloodrider. Another bloodrider, missing several teeth, grinned at the unfortunate captive who had been tied behind a horse and had run all the way, his once fine clothes now torn to shreds.

He pulled out a stone knife from his bosom and cut the hemp rope tied around the captive's wrist. In the holy city of the Dothraki, it was forbidden to carry knives and bloodshed was strictly prohibited. Therefore, the Dothraki, who would readily draw their blades and fight at the slightest disagreement on the Dothraki Sea, would become much more restrained upon entering Vaes Dothrak.

The Dothraki were extremely superstitious, and thus they devoutly observed the rules of the holy city. After reaching their destination, all the tribesmen who followed the Khal into the holy city busied themselves with their own tasks. Some led away the horses, while others were transporting the goods they had brought.

Their destination was the grass-woven mansion that looked like a castle in front of them. It was supported by sturdy wooden beams and was huge and open. Almost every Khal in the holy city of Vaes Dothrak had such a wooden hall, and this was where their Khal Jhaqo lived.

"Hey!" The Dothraki's obscure language kept ringing in his ears. This unfortunate captive was once a member of the ruling family of Pentos. His elderly father, the Magister of Pentos, and his elder brother were burned to death by Viserys's dragon fire. He had sensed something was wrong at the very beginning of the bloody night.

He had led his family and a portion of their wealth out of Pentos under the protection of his guards. They were one of the ruling families who had managed to escape the bloody night's purge. A few days after escaping Pentos, the younger son finally heard news about his father. His father had been cruelly burned to death by the tyrant's dragon fire, and all the ruling families who hadn't reacted in time were brutally retaliated against by the Beggar Prince. They were all killed, regardless of age or gender, and all their wealth was plundered.

Knowing that he could never return to his hometown, the young son immediately made a vow facing the sea, just like the Beggar Prince had once done. He swore to avenge his family and retake Pentos. However, revenge was easier said than done. It required soldiers, and seeking help from other trading city-states was not realistic. He then thought of his father's good relations with several Dothraki khals.

In the past, the weak Pentos often offered tributes to the Dothraki who were out raiding, in exchange for their protection. But now, the peace-loving and benevolent Pentos had been attacked by evil men, who had even joined forces with the mob to plunder the legally obtained wealth of the Magisters.

Every time he thought of this, the young Magister's teeth would itch with hatred. So, he thought of seeking help from the Dothraki, and then set off with his family and guards to the Dothraki Sea. But fate was cruel. As soon as they arrived at the Dothraki Sea, they fell into a trap and were attacked by a khalasar.

The attackers killed all the members of the family without discrimination, plundered their wealth, and only let him go. However, there was still hope. After wandering on the Dothraki Sea for a few more days,

Banny, the unfortunate son of the Pentos Magister, encountered another tribe that had a conflict with the khalasar that had attacked them not long ago. After hearing his story, they took him in. A fierce battle broke out between the two khalasars, and Banny was lucky. The khalasar he was with won the war and regained his wealth. Unfortunately, the wealth was not returned to him but was taken by the new Khal.

Then this khalasar took him and set off for Vaes Dothrak, frequently contacting outsiders, for reasons unknown. As the youngest son of the old Magister of Pentos, the now over-thirty Banny was in a daze. He had lost the motivation for revenge and now only wanted to survive and leave the Dothraki Sea. Unfortunately, the Dothraki didn't seem to have any plans to let him go. Banny stood there in a daze.

"Hey!" The tall Jhaqo, standing in front of the wooden hall, pointed at him, then turned and walked into the hall. Banny was pushed in by two Dothraki.

The hall, built by slaves, was grand. The walls were made of wood, and the roof was made of thick grass and mud. The hall was round, like a giant tent, with a huge fire burning in the center and torches tied to the edges of the pillars.

The hall was filled with the noisy voices of the Dothraki, most of whom were sitting on the ground, talking about something. Jhaqo, the Khal, sat casually on the throne in the center, his slightly dark skin, strong body, and deep-set eyes scanning all the tribesmen present.

In fact, Jhaqo had a history with Viserys. He was the leader of a khas that had fled first when Khal Drogo was defeated by Viserys. Jhaqo had merged with two other khases, declared himself a Khal, and appointed his own bloodrider, Mago.

He had once claimed to all the fleeing Dothraki that Viserys had defeated the great horse warrior using despicable blood magic. He had burned Khal Drogo with fire. Now, Drogo's soul had become the brightest star in the sky, and Jhaqo swore that he would avenge Drogo and kill Viserys in the future.

Then... the bleeding star fell from the sky.

At that time, Jhaqo had successfully gathered many of the scattered remnants of Drogo's khalasar using this method, and since then, he had never mentioned this matter again.

Through the years of annexation on the Dothraki Sea, Jhaqo had grown into a Khal with tens of thousands of riders, while Viserys's power had expanded even more terrifyingly, and he was said to have three dragons.

However, not long ago, when Jhaqo captured Banny and heard from him that Pentos had fallen, his heart stirred again. He suddenly had a bold idea. So, he sent out a message, summoning many powerful Khals to the holy city, claiming that there was a very important matter to discuss.

At the same time, there was a force behind him that was fanning the flames, helping him accomplish this task. Therefore, in these days, large khalasars arrived in Vaes Dothrak, scaring the smaller khalasars in the vicinity into fleeing. Many Khals gathered in the holy city.

Chapter 242: Alliance

Half a month passed quickly.

The outskirts of Vaes Dothrak, the holy city of the Dothraki, were now teeming with more khalasars.

For the first time, this vast yet rudimentary city was filled with such a large population that it even faced some issues with food supply. Fortunately, merchant caravans from Qohor and even Pentos arrived in time to alleviate the situation in Vaes Dothrak.

Now, many powerful Khals had gathered in the holy city. Some Khals already knew what was to be discussed, while others were still in the dark.

Naturally, it wasn't just Khal Jhaqo who had managed to rally so many Khals together. In fact, Jhaqo's khalasar wasn't even particularly notable among these Khals.

With so many khalasars gathered in Vaes Dothrak, there were naturally other forces involved. They claimed to be nobodies and offered a massive amount of gold to hire the Dothraki to unite.

The Dothraki had precedent for such actions.

Once, in the bloody century following the Doom, the Dothraki had surged into the west with iron and fire, beginning to occupy the grasslands now known as the Dothraki Sea.

However, at that time, the masters of the grasslands were not the Dothraki, but the Kingdom of Sarnor.

Initially, the tall men of Sarnor looked down on the Dothraki as barbarians, hiring them to fight each other in their internal wars.

It was then that the Dothraki were first united by a Khal named Mengo.

What followed was a case of inviting the wolf into the house. Khal Mengo led the united Dothraki in an attack on the Kingdom of Sarnor.

In less than a century, the kingdom on the grasslands was completely destroyed by the Dothraki. All cities were reduced to ruins, and the tall men were nearly extinct.

Therefore, the Dothraki were not unfamiliar with the concept of being paid to do a job.

They could also put aside their grudges and unite for a common cause, depending on whether the benefits offered were worth it.

And what Jhaqo brought was exactly such a reason.

"Jhaqo, what do you want us to do by summoning us here?"

"Do you feel an itch in your neck?"

The speaker was a Khal sitting on the throne on the other side of the bonfire. As a newly promoted Khal, he was unaware of the situation. His physique was equally robust, his upper body bare, and his bloodrider stood behind him.

His tone was not very friendly, as he had clashed with Jhaqo several times in the past, even coming to blows.

This Khal's name was Pono, who was also one of the khases that had fled after Khal Drogo's defeat.

However, his path differed from Jhaqo's. Pono led his khas into another khalasar and, after a few years, had just become the new Khal after the old one died.

"Heh."

Jhaqo, who was provoked by Khal Pono on the other side, just snorted in disdain, showing no regard for his old tribal friend.

"Pono, you're still as brainless as ever."

Pono's personal strength was indeed more formidable than Jhaqo's.

He had once beaten him in a tribal fight, but Jhaqo didn't hold a grudge. Now, his khalasar was even larger than Pono's.

"Enough."

At this point, an
elderly Khal with somewhat graying hair sat steadily on his throne and spoke in a deep voice.

"Let's all stop."

This old Khal's name was Moro. If the Dothraki were to respect seniority, Khal Moro's experience would indeed be more profound than these younger generations.

Moro's khalasar, including his riders, was a unique force among all the tribes in the Dothraki Sea.

Moro's khalasar consisted not only of himself but also of his riders, all of whom were old men. It was like an 'Old Soldiers' Alliance' among the Dothraki.

Even continuously, old Dothraki warriors who felt their abilities declining and were ostracized from their own tribes joined Moro's khalasar, forming a mutually dependent and supportive alliance.

However, Moro, leading a group of old and frail veterans, was a force on the Dothraki Sea that, while not strong, was not easy to provoke.

These old guys might be aged, but their combat experience was extremely rich. They were all veterans who had survived countless battles.

As soon as Moro spoke, both Khal Pono and Khal Jhaqo snorted.

However, they weren't afraid of Moro. They just took advantage of Moro's words to find a way out, as it was a rule all Dothraki devoutly followed that they couldn't fight in the holy city.

Then Moro, seeing that Jhaqo and Pono had put aside their dispute, looked at Jhaqo. His white beard swayed as he spoke in a low voice.

"Now that some people still don't know what's going on, let's have Khal Jhaqo explain."

As Moro's words fell, all the other Khals in the simple wooden palace of the holy city looked over.

The fire in the center of the hall was bright.

The remaining Khals who hadn't participated in the internal dispute were Khal Moro, Khal Jomo, Khal Ogo, and Khal Zheko.

Seeing the other Khals' gazes, Jhaqo didn't hesitate.

Clap, clap...

Jhaqo clapped his hands, and his bloodrider understood, turned around and left, quickly bringing up a man in ragged clothes who looked utterly worn out.

He was Banny Santos, the son of the old Magister of Pentos.

Then Jhaqo said a few words, and the Dothraki translator told Banny Santos.

Then this man, now in his thirties and once the son of the Magister, gathered his emotions and began to sob and cry about the cruel situation he had encountered and the bloody night.

However, he didn't mention that Pentos had first violated guest right, but portrayed Viserys and the Beggar Prince as unforgivable demons.

However, when the Dothraki translator translated the Magister's son's words for the Khals present, they listened with great interest.

They even laughed heartily, their laughter full of mockery for the weakness of Pentos.

The people of Pentos were truly weaker than 'sheep,' allowing two hundred men and a beast to kill all the Magisters and take over the city-state.

There would never be such cowards among the Dothraki warriors.

If that little king brought his two hundred tin cans to the Dothraki Sea, the brave Dothraki would definitely make them come and never return.

Hearing the mocking laughter around him, Banny Santos felt like a knife was stabbing his heart, but he clenched his fists a few times without daring to speak.

In the end, he stood aside with his head
down and hands hanging after he finished speaking, looking like a destitute beggar.

"Now, you've all heard."

"Our 'friends' who have given us gifts and gold and silver are in trouble."

Khal Moro stood up, the fire burning, his robust figure casting a shadow.

"Now... it's time."

"Kill all those men in iron clothes! Tear down their stone houses!"

"Take their wealth and women!"

"Roar!"

All the Dothraki in the wooden hall of Vaes Dothrak were stirred up.

In the shadows, a man in a gray-brown robe stood quietly in place.

Chapter 243: Dragon Riding

For Pentos, the other end of the Dothraki Sea seemed like the end of the world. They never imagined that seven Khals had gathered there, rallying nearly a hundred thousand Dothraki, preparing to cross the Dothraki Sea and launch a formidable expedition against Pentos. They sought to avenge their 'friends' and incidentally divide the rich city-state among themselves.

However, two of the seven Khals withdrew from the negotiations midway and did not plan to participate, even when offered attractive benefits. Nevertheless, even with Khal Ogo and Khal Jomo choosing to leave, there were still five Khals left in this gluttonous feast, commanding a Dothraki army of nearly eighty thousand.

The remaining five Khals swore on the Mother of Mountains, witnessed by the stars above. Eighty thousand Dothraki set off in a mighty march towards the western world.

Meanwhile, in Pentos, Viserys was completely unaware. He did not know that nearly eighty thousand Dothraki were marching towards Pentos with him as their target, from the distant 'Womb of the World' lake. At present, he was practicing dragon riding.

On a desolate piece of land about four or five miles outside the city of Pentos, where the weeds underfoot were withered and a winding stream was not far away, Balerion's massive body lay on the ground. His enormous wings spread out, and his nostrils exhaled a large amount of white mist, even carrying the smell of sulfur and saltpeter.

Balerion shook his head again, exhaling white mist with a dull sound. His massive head tilted slightly, his crimson eyes glanced at Viserys, who was studying how to climb up, and blinked lightly, a look of contempt in his eyes.

He had been lying here for a long time, feeling a bit numb in his hind legs, yet Viserys was still studying how to climb up. However, this was not entirely Viserys' fault. After all, it was his first time riding a dragon, and he had no experience. Moreover, Balerion's scales were too sharp and could easily tear his clothes.

The only thing that went smoothly was that Balerion's body temperature was said to be very high, perhaps hot enough to cook an egg. But Viserys, who had awakened the purest Targaryen bloodline, felt the lava flowing in the gaps of Balerion's scales as merely a cup of warm water emitting heat.

"Enough."

Viserys gritted his teeth, disregarding the sharp scales on Balerion's body. He grabbed the gap in the scales with one hand, then carefully climbed up using his drooping wings as support, finally succeeding in climbing onto Balerion's back.

Balerion's breathing was heavy, his body gently rising and falling with each breath. When Viserys climbed onto his back, it felt like he was stepping on a moving mountain of flesh.

"Wait a moment, I haven't settled yet."

Viserys was experiencing for the first time what it felt like to be this high up. The wild wind at this height blew his hair, and he squinted his eyes slightly, then found a relatively flat place on Balerion's back and sat down.

This place was at the junction of the dragon's neck and spine, a slightly recessed area that was just right for a person to sit and could effectively hold him in place. At the same time, there were protruding horns on the scales on both sides, which looked extremely sharp. Viserys could hold onto these two protruding horns to stabilize his body when riding the dragon.

"Okay!"

After settling down, Vis
erys finally took a deep breath. The biting cold wind blew his hair, but he could still keep his eyes open. After reaching the extraordinary realm, it seemed that every aspect of his body had been enhanced.

Moreover, when Viserys sat on Balerion's back, he suddenly had a strange feeling, as if his connection with Balerion had strengthened. This might have something to do with the black mist.

Viserys had asked the other two girls, Rhaenys and the green dragon Rhaegal, Daenerys and the white dragon Viserion, and none of them had such a wonderful connection. They simply relied on familiarity and gradually explored the dragon's habits and temperament.

This kind of emotional cultivation had to be mutual. The dragons might also be trying to befriend them, so everything became much simpler.

However, the connection between Viserys and Balerion was even simpler, with the black mist serving as their medium of communication. When Balerion was still an egg, the black mist was injected into the egg through a dragon dream. After Balerion hatched, Viserys had this wonderful connection with him.

It was more like a kind of telepathy. Viserys could know what Balerion was thinking, and Balerion could also know Viserys' thoughts.

Finally, Viserys made comprehensive preparations.

"Let's fly."

Viserys thought silently in his heart.

Balerion, as if sensing Viserys' thoughts, turned his head and looked at him with his crimson eyes. Then he let out a deep, ancient roar.

Balerion's wings spread, stirring up a wild wind, sweeping up the withered grass and fallen leaves on the ground. Then he ran forward a few steps, and with a sudden force from his hind legs, the massive dragon's body soared into the sky.

Viserys sat on Balerion's back, his hands tightly gripping the protruding scales on the dragon's back. He then felt the raging wind slapping his cheeks, his entire body rushing towards the sky at a steep angle.

"Holy shit!"

"This is so thrilling!"

Viserys tried hard to open his eyes, feeling the wild wind blowing his hair, and couldn't help but swear. However, Balerion, feeling Viserys' thoughts, not only did not slow down but instead increased the speed of his wing flaps.

With wings spanning more than ten meters, stirring up the air, carrying the massive body, Balerion, with Viserys on his back, accelerated towards the sky. The massive figure was like a black and gold meteor. The passing caravans on the ground all heard the earth-shaking dragon roar from not far away.

Then they looked up and saw a sight they would never forget in their lives. They stood dumbfounded, looking up at the massive figure sweeping across the sky. The guards' horses were scared and wanted to run away, while the pack horses carrying goods simply collapsed on the dirt road.

Viserys, sitting on the dragon's back, got over the initial chaos. He had to admit that he was a bit panicked when they first took off, and Balerion even mocked him for it. But once they were in the sky and things had stabilized, Viserys' heart also calmed down a lot.

…

Chapter 244: Homecoming

Next.

He had the chance to experience the sensation of flying in this era.

Viserys sat on the dragon's back, gently exhaling a breath, one hand loosening its grip on the scales, then looked down at the ground below.

He saw the long caravan on the dirt road below and the people who looked like ants. At this moment, they were all looking up at the sky, seemingly terrified, their horses also startled.

"It seems they're seeing you for the first time, Balerion."

"You've scared them."

Viserys withdrew his gaze, then exhaled lightly and spoke.

"Heh—"

Upon hearing Viserys' words, Balerion, his wings still stirring up a wild wind, tilted his head slightly and let out a deep, hoarse dragon roar, as if responding to Viserys' words.

Then.

Whoosh~

The dragon flapped its wings, accelerating its speed and shooting straight into the sky, its massive body even reaching above the clouds.

"Keep climbing."

Viserys didn't dare to be careless, his other hand also tightly gripping the protruding scales on the dragon's back.

At this moment, he had the sky and clouds under his feet.

On the ground, the caravan that was preparing to head towards Pentos, all the people stood dumbfounded in place, watching the dragon's figure disappear above the clouds.

"Is that... a dragon?"

They had come from Qohor.

Not long ago, they had heard about the drastic changes in Pentos. The Dragon King of the Targaryens had taken over the city, the dragon had burned down the palace and killed all the Magisters.

They had even fantasized on the way about whether they could see a real dragon in Pentos.

However, they didn't expect their dream to come true. The dragon appeared before their eyes, and many sharp-eyed guards also saw that there seemed to be a person riding on the dragon's back.

"A dragon rider?"

"Could that be Viserys Targaryen?"

"This is a miracle."

After the initial shock, the caravan's guards began to exchange words of awe.

...

Meanwhile, in Pentos.

Viserys had disappeared.

This news, which should have been a big deal, didn't cause much of a stir. The various forces in the city that had just settled down didn't jump out to cause any trouble.

Because the palace that all eyes in Pentos were on, hanging the banner of the three-headed dragon, was still calm.

The guards who followed Viserys knew that His Majesty the King had flown away on the dragon. They had even chased him on horseback on the ground for a while.

However, the dragon flew above the clouds and quickly disappeared without a trace. They couldn't possibly run as fast on the ground as they could fly in the sky, so they lost him.

Then these guards returned to Pentos and reported the matter to Jon Connington.

Now Illyrio was in charge of restoring the economy of Pentos, and as the king's personal advisor, Jon didn't have much to do.

So he managed the affairs of the palace, acting as a sort of steward.

When he heard that Viserys had flown away on a dragon, his first reaction was not worry but excitement.

He believed that Viserys could do even better.

In fact, Jon hadn't known Viserys for a long time, but he had been quietly watching Viserys' development over the past few years.

Jon had seen Viserys when he was just a prince in the Red Keep. At that time, Viserys...

To be honest, Jon didn't see any good qualities in him.

However, perhaps
stimulated by the death of his father and brother, Viserys underwent a drastic change in temperament after fleeing from King's Landing.

At least in Jon's view, the current Viserys was completely different from the prince who used to lose his temper and scold the guards of the Red Keep.

With his young body, he showed courage, growing step by step, showing his strength, and eventually building such a huge foundation.

Jon sat behind his desk, glancing at the young Aegon who was sitting next to him, learning how to handle official affairs.

"Aegon, you should learn from your uncle in the future."

The silver-haired boy sat in the chair, and a look of longing appeared in his eyes when he heard Jon's words.

"Can I ride a dragon too, father?"

"This..."

Jon was slightly taken aback when he heard Aegon's words.

He was at a loss for words.

He hadn't expected Aegon to say something like this.

But every child has a dream of riding a dragon, let alone Aegon, who is Rhaegar's child, a pure Targaryen.

However, dreams are dreams, reality is reality, and honor... is honor.

On the night of the Blood, Jon found Viserys and swore allegiance to him. Jon took care of Aegon and returned him to the Targaryens, fulfilling his duty. After that, he must be loyal to Viserys.

Only...

Aegon had been raised by him for so many years, and he also called him father. Although there was no blood connection between the two, there was a father-son affection.

"Um... maybe."

Jon hesitated for a moment before giving a noncommittal answer.

Faced with the boy's expectant eyes, Jon, as a foster father, couldn't bear to refuse and disappoint the child.

But... Jon also understood the current situation of the Targaryen family.

Viserys took Rhaenys away from the Red Keep, and Queen Rhaella left him a sister. The relationship between Viserys, Rhaenys, and Daenerys was undoubtedly strong.

Even if Aegon was Rhaenys's biological brother, there was no emotional connection between the two beyond blood. Rhaenys would not choose Aegon over Viserys.

The three dragons of the Targaryen family have now been divided among the siblings and a niece. There is no place for Aegon.

Unless he pleads with his sister...

Jon pondered these things, then shook his head.

He looked up at his foster son and spoke in a low voice.

"Aegon."

"If you really want to ride a dragon, it's best to find a dragon egg yourself."

"Then try to hatch it."

...

In Pentos.

The news of Viserys's disappearance didn't cause much of a stir, because having a dragon by the King's side was the greatest guarantee.

Meanwhile, in Andalos.

The sky had gradually darkened, and the lights in the castle had been lit. The entire city had not yet fallen asleep.

The brown-haired girl, dressed in a loose nightgown, was leaning over the cold stone window, looking up at the night sky outside.

And then.

A massive shadow came from the distance, appearing in her field of vision.

Whoosh…

Its wings spread out, flapping, and under the cold moonlight, the scales reflected a metallic luster, making it particularly clear.

And there seemed to be a figure sitting on the back of this massive shadow.

Rhaenys was slightly stunned when she saw this massive shadow, but she quickly reacted.

"It's Balerion

!"

The brown-haired girl was overjoyed, and without caring that she was only wearing a nightgown, she ran down with a thump.

…

Chapter 245: The Lesson from the Elder Brother

Boom!

Dust billowed.

Balerion's massive body landed in the castle's training ground, his sharp claws digging into the soft earth, stirring up dust that drifted far away.

"Roar!"

Then, the black dragon stretched his long neck, raising his ferocious head and letting out a hoarse roar that echoed far into the darkness.

A dragon suddenly descended from the sky, but the guards and servants within the castle were not overly panicked. These people had been following the Targaryen family for many years, their loyalty was one thing, but they were also quite familiar with dragons.

However, Balerion's growth rate still amazed them. Almost every time they saw him after a period of absence, Balerion's size would have noticeably changed.

Balerion had been away with the king in Pentos for about three to four months now, and his body seemed to have grown even larger, creating a visually stunning effect.

Rhaenys, who was dressed in her nightgown and was just about to rest, also ran out of her bedroom and onto the castle's training ground.

She initially thought that Balerion's sudden return might bring some news of Viserys. However, to her surprise, it was Viserys himself who had ridden the dragon back.

"Viserys!"

The brown-haired girl was overjoyed to see the young man slowly climbing down from the dragon's back and jumping onto the ground.

Viserys dusted off the dust on his body after landing, and upon hearing the voice, he turned his head and saw the girl standing not far away, running towards him.

"Rhaenys."

Viserys smiled when he saw her.

He then opened his arms and picked up the girl who ran over, spinning her around in the air.

"Hey, Viserys, why did you suddenly come back?"

Rhaenys looked very happy. Viserys' sudden return after such a long absence was a pleasant surprise for her, and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

Viserys, holding the girl who was only wearing a nightgown, gently kissed her smooth forehead before letting go of Rhaenys.

In the current Targaryen family, the relationship between Viserys and Rhaenys, whether as uncle and niece or 'siblings', was the best.

No one could compare, even better than the relationship between Viserys and his sister Daenerys.

After all, when they were dependent on each other, Daenerys was still an infant.

It was Rhaenys, who was not yet grown up herself, who raised Daenerys.

"Just... a sudden whim."

Viserys looked at Rhaenys and couldn't help but smile, and Rhaenys was genuinely delighted.

Viserys then spoke with a smile.

"I was practicing riding the dragon, and then I wanted to see how far Balerion could fly in a day."

He had ridden Balerion and let him fly towards Andalos to see how far he could fly in a day.

However, he didn't expect Balerion's flying speed to be so fast. The mountains and rivers that used to take a long time to cross all appeared under his feet.

He set off from Pentos in the morning, and in a day's time, he flew from Pentos to Andalos.

Seeing Andalos close at hand, Viserys decided not to turn back. He let Balerion fly back in one breath, just in time to go home and sleep, and let Balerion rest for the night.

When Rhaenys heard what Viserys said, she realized that Vis
erys had ridden the dragon back, and her eyes widened in envy.

"That's great."

"Balerion is such a good boy."

Rhaenys had been harboring a lot of grievances lately.

Because her dragon, Rhaegal, was not very obedient, it seemed like a problem dragon.

In contrast, Daenerys' white dragon was very affectionate with its owner, even actively hunting some animals in the Kingswood for Daenerys.

Then it would roast them with dragon fire and present them to Daenerys, nudging her with its head, and then looking at Daenerys with a hopeful expression, hoping she would eat more and grow faster.

In the eyes of the white dragon Viserion, his mother Daenerys was too thin, which Viserion saw as a very unhealthy state, so he hoped she would eat more.

Viserion was like a warm-hearted man.

However, Rhaenys' green dragon Rhaegal was like a complete jerk, at least in the eyes of the brown-haired girl.

Rhaenys often secretly used her power to give Rhaegal extra meals, sending a few more cows and the like, but when it came to eating, Rhaegal was very close to Rhaenys, even allowing Rhaenys to lean against him.

However, once the meal was over, Rhaegal would immediately turn his face away, flapping his wings and flying away, leaving Rhaenys alone.

Hearing Rhaenys' complaints, Viserys smiled.

Rhaegal's temper was indeed a bit impetuous, he had noticed it when the three dragons were still small.

But when Balerion was around, Rhaegal would always restrain his temper, acting obedient in front of his elder brother.

However, this time Balerion had been away from Andalos with him for three to four months, and it seemed that Rhaegal had become a bit forgetful.

Dragons are highly intelligent, not inferior to human children, so if they are well nurtured, they will develop a strong dependence on the people who raise them and can be trained as war mounts.

They can even understand human language and determine friend or foe based on the will of the rider, so as not to accidentally hurt friends.

However, if they are not well trained, coupled with the dragon's far superior intelligence compared to other animals, they can become a lawless 'wild child'.

Rhaegal now seemed to be trending towards becoming a 'wild child', and it seemed that his elder brother needed to give him a physical lesson.

"Balerion."

Viserys turned his head and looked at Balerion.

While Rhaenys was complaining, Balerion was also lying on the ground, tilting his head to listen to their conversation. He could understand the language exchange between the two.

Feeling Viserys' gaze, Balerion immediately understood, raised his ferocious head, exhaled white mist, and let out a roar.

Balerion was asking Viserys for a high reward.

Viserys shook his head helplessly, then held up his finger and made a number.

Balerion was immediately satisfied, then let out another huge roar. His powerful legs suddenly pushed off the ground, and his huge wings flapped, taking him into the air.

The black dragon flew straight towards the Kingswood outside Andalos.

The castle could no longer accommodate three dragons, mainly because Balerion was too big.

The designated Kingswood was now the new home for the dragons.

"Good night."

"Balerion."

Viserys looked up at the moonlit figure of the departing dragon and said silently in his heart.

"Roar."

A roar from the dragon echoed from the distance, sounding like a response.

Chapter 246: Rhaenys' Changes

Night had fallen.

Viserys had finally returned to his own bedroom.

Since Viserys had left, this room was not allowed to be entered by others on ordinary days, so a thin layer of dust had accumulated on the desks and wardrobes in his bedroom.

Viserys' bedroom was not very large, but it was elegantly decorated. Stone pillars with murals carved into them supported the ceiling, exquisite tapestries hung on the walls, and a fire was lit in the fireplace to dispel the cold of the winter night.

Now, an old maid with a forehead full of wrinkles, dressed in a simple gray robe and a gray cloth headscarf, was tidying up Viserys' bedroom, holding a dust cloth in her hand.

Viserys was standing on the stone balcony of his bedroom, looking at the view outside the window.

It was now late at night.

He hadn't been back for three or four months, and he did miss home a bit, but what he missed more were Rhaenys and the other little one.

Then, the young man's thoughts were all over the place, not knowing where to start. Viserys leaned on the balcony and sighed lightly.

"Prince, do you miss home a bit?"

The old maid who was tidying up his room heard Viserys' sigh.

Then, without stopping her work, she just looked up at Viserys' back and asked in a hoarse voice.

As Viserys had said when he saw Jon, there were not many people who would still subconsciously call him 'Prince' now.

And this old maid was one of them. She was Queen Rhaella's maid, and she had come to the Red Keep when Rhaella was still a girl.

She had watched Rhaella grow up, marry Aerys, become a mother and give birth to Rhaegar and Viserys, and then she had witnessed the fall of House Targaryen and followed Rhaella to Dragonstone.

This old maid had once changed Viserys' diapers, and when he was small, she had held his hand and taught him to walk in the garden.

However, many things were told to him by his mother, Queen Rhaella, later on. Viserys didn't remember things from that time.

And on the eve of the fall of King's Landing, his father Aerys used his last lucid moments to order the evacuation of his queen and his son.

The old maid had dressed Viserys at that time, then met with his mother, and then hurriedly got on a carriage to escape King's Landing.

"Sophia..."

Viserys heard the old maid's words, turned his head to look at her, opened his mouth to say something, but was a bit tongue-tied for a moment.

However, in the end, he shook his head and said.

"No..."

"I don't miss the Red Keep."

The Red Keep was indeed where everything started for Viserys, but he didn't miss life at the Red Keep.

Because that wasn't him, it was another Viserys.

"I think the concept of 'home' is not a place, but 'people'."

Viserys looked out the window at Andalos, which was gradually falling silent. This was a city he had created with his own hands, like planting a seed, then diligently watering and irrigating it, watching as the seed gradually took root and sprouted, and finally grew into a small tree.

"As long as there are family members, it's home no matter where it is."

Viserys spoke calmly, then paused for a moment before changing the
subject and continuing.

"Grandmother, how have Rhaenys and Daenerys been recently?"

The relationship between Rhaenys and Daenerys wasn't exactly harmonious, perhaps due to conflicts in their personalities.

Rhaenys had raised Daenerys since she was a child, but the two often quarreled. Only when Viserys was around would they restrain themselves a bit.

"Little Dany is still the same as before."

"Polite and sensible."

The old maid smiled as she spoke of the two girls.

"She often goes to the Kingswood to play under the protection of Ser Evin and the guards."

"Dany likes to go out and play now?"

Viserys tilted his head slightly in surprise when he heard the old maid's words.

Daenerys was introverted and liked quiet. When Rhaenys was always clamoring to go out and play, the silver-haired little girl would prefer to stay in the room alone, afraid to go out and play, and even more afraid to meet strangers.

It was mainly because of that big fire that made the girl a bit shy to meet people.

"Yes, Little Dany has become much more lively."

The old maid said, then continued.

"And speaking of the Princess..."

"Recently, the Princess's temperament has also changed quite noticeably."

"Perhaps Little Rhaenys has really grown up."

Although Rhaenys was a few years older than Daenerys, the old maid treated them equally.

"Oh?"

Viserys was somewhat surprised to hear the old maid's words, but he was indeed quite interested in the changes in Rhaenys that Sophia mentioned.

After Viserys left Andalos, he entrusted the city to Rhaenys. Although there were no maesters to assist her now, Rhaenys was doing quite well, at least there were no major problems.

After all, her uncle Oberyn's camp was not far from Andalos, and if there were any problems, Oberyn would always look after his niece.

And in this repeated training, the young girl had undergone some significant changes.

"What happened to Rhaenys?"

Viserys turned around, leaning on the stone balcony and asked.

"Princess Rhaenys has become much more restrained."

"And she has started to seriously learn needlework and governance experience, and if she has any questions, she will write to Prince Oberyn for advice."

"She really looks like a noble princess now."

The old maid's wrinkled face broke into a smile as she spoke.

Rhaenys had always been lively and outgoing, the little devil of the castle. She didn't like ladylike education, music, poetry, singing, dancing, and embroidery.

Instead, she liked to play with swords and guns like a tomboy.

At that time, Rhaenys' education problem had once given Sophia a headache. After all, it was the maester's responsibility to educate the prince, and it was the responsibility of old nannies like Sophia to educate the princess well.

But now, perhaps the girl has grown up, gradually understanding the responsibilities she carries, wanting to actively share some of the pressure for Viserys.

Because Rhaenys knew very well that she was the person Viserys trusted the most.

If she didn't help Viserys, then Viserys would be very lonely fighting alone.

"Perhaps, the Princess... really wants to help you with something."

The old maid said.

"Is that so..."

Viserys listened to the old maid's words, slightly raised his head, and stood there in a daze.

...

The next morning.

Viserys woke up early from his sleep. After resting in Andalos for a night

, he was to ride his dragon back to Pentos today.

He had left Pentos without a word and if he didn't return for a long time, there might be chaos. Viserys was not at ease, and he still had a lot of work left undone in Pentos.

However, after getting up in the morning and dressing, and having breakfast with Rhaenys and little Dany, a letter suddenly arrived in his hands.

It came from a place he didn't expect, slightly delaying Viserys' journey.

Chapter 247: Request for Aid

"The Night's Watch."

Viserys sat at the head of the dining table, the morning sun streaming through the castle windows and illuminating the quiet dining room.

A young girl with long brown hair, Rhaenys, sat to his left, enjoying her breakfast of bread, biscuits, milk, creamed corn soup, blackberry jam, and more.

Across from Rhaenys sat a little girl with short, silver hair cut to her neck.

After all this time, Daenerys' hair hadn't fully recovered to its original state, which would take several years, but she now looked like a proper girl.

No wonder the old maid had said that Daenerys had become much more lively and liked to go out and play. She had become prettier.

The girl dipped a piece of bread into some blackberry jam, then took a bite, her cheeks puffing out.

Crunch, crunch...

Seeing Viserys' gaze on her, she blushed a little, looking somewhat embarrassed.

However, Viserys just smiled and patted her head.

"Mind your manners, Dany. Be ladylike."

Then he lowered his gaze to the unopened letter in his hand, just glancing at the seal on the envelope.

He never expected to receive a letter from the Wall.

Although the Night's Watch didn't participate in the conflicts of the Seven Kingdoms, they were still under the jurisdiction of the Iron Throne. The kings of the past rarely interfered with the appointment of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

So why would the Night's Watch write to him now?

Could it be that they had heard he would one day return to Westeros and wanted to establish a relationship in advance?

Viserys had dealt with many such situations. Every now and then, envoys from Westeros would come, representing their masters or families, secretly meeting with Viserys.

They would declare that their masters or families were still loyal to the Targaryens, only submitting to the usurper due to his tyranny.

If the day came when the royal army returned, they would immediately switch sides and submit to the true ruler of the Iron Throne.

"The Night's Watch?"

Hearing Viserys' murmur, Rhaenys turned her head and blinked.

"I remember they are... the army guarding the end of the world."

Rhaenys had never seen the Night's Watch, and neither had Viserys. They were both born in King's Landing, and the Wall was too far away for them.

Based on some prophetic knowledge from his previous life, Viserys had a better understanding of the Wall.

However, Rhaenys looked confused. She couldn't imagine what the end of the world would look like. She had only read about it in books when she was studying with the maester.

At that time, Rhaenys wasn't very diligent in her studies. However, after the maester's death and her true identity was revealed, Rhaenys seemed to grow up overnight. She even became more diligent in her studies.

Just as the old maid had said, Rhaenys had become much more reserved, no longer as unruly as before. She truly hoped she could share some of Viserys' burdens.

"That's right."

"The current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch should be Jeor Mormont. I just don't know what he wants from me."

Viserys nodded. The two were chatting intermittently, while on the other side, Daenerys was still struggling with her bread.

Then Viserys checked the envelope and found that the wax seal was still intact. He directly tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.

However, when Viserys pulled out the letter, he realized it wasn't written by Jeor Mormont.

It was a letter from his great-uncle, Maester Aemon.

It was him?

Viserys showed a hint of surprise on his face, then his expression became much more serious as he read on.

But by the time he had finished reading the contents of Maester Aemon's letter, there was no smile left on Viserys' face.

He just stared at the name at the end of the letter, his brow furrowed.

"Traces of the Others at the Wall?"

Viserys knew this day would come sooner or later, but he didn't expect it to come so soon.

However, thinking about it, it seemed to make sense. After all, his existence seemed to have disrupted the normal trajectory of this world, and he had been rushing towards a future without a clear path.

He had obtained dragon eggs earlier than Daenerys in the original timeline.

Daenerys had hatched dragon eggs in a great fire, and then a red comet had streaked across the sky, falling on the edge of the Dothraki Sea.

Then came the resurgence of magic, the world changing step by step without giving him any respite.

The power of the Red God was restored, Melisandre saw shadows in the flames again, and the followers of various gods, the warlocks with blue lips, the moon singers, the shadowbinders, and others, seemed to have their powers strengthened.

Even winter came a few years earlier than in the original timeline.

Dragons, magic, winter - everything came earlier, with dragons seemingly being the starting point.

In such a context, the early resurgence of the Others didn't seem so strange.

"Aemon Targaryen..."

Viserys took a deep breath.

"What?"

Both Rhaenys and Daenerys looked puzzled at Viserys' muttering, not knowing which Aemon Targaryen he was referring to.

"Viserys, are you talking about 'Dragonknight' Aemon?"

However, Viserys shook his head and said, his mind currently in turmoil.

"No..."

"No, I'm talking about our great-uncle."

This was the first time Maester Aemon had written to Viserys. Although the blind old man had had this idea for a long time, he had never put it into action.

Not until recently, when Lord Commander Jeor Mormont led the brothers of the Night's Watch on an expedition and returned defeated, confirming the return of the Others.

Only then did Maester Aemon truly write this letter, entrusting it to a merchant who had come to the Wall to catch smuggled slaves, to be sent to Andalos.

After several months of sailing across the sea, it finally arrived in Viserys' hands this morning.

The arrival of the Others undoubtedly disrupted Viserys' plans. Maester Aemon's letter was a plea for help.

He wrote in the letter.

"When I learned that the Targaryen family had been destroyed in the War of the Usurpers, I wanted to return to King's Landing more than anyone else, even if I couldn't see the light and had to move forward with a cane."

This was the moment when Aemon faced the most brutal test of his vows.

However, even when facing the enemy who destroyed his family, Aemon still hoped that Viserys could lend a hand at the critical moment.

He didn't expect to persuade Viserys to devote all his energy to this war.

But he still pleaded with him to help them at the critical moment, because the resurgence of the Others was a war between the living and the dead.

Chapter 248: Reinforcements

The request from Maester Aemon was the reason for Viserys' slight annoyance.

Although his great-uncle did not explicitly state in the letter how much turmoil the resurgence of the White Walkers would cause, or whether they would break through the Wall, it was because Aemon Targaryen was just a wise old man. Despite his broad knowledge, he was not a prophet.

Ordinary people cannot predict things that have not happened; he just thought of the worst possibility in advance.

If all this really happened, and humanity was defeated, he hoped that Viserys could temporarily put aside the family's grudges and save the fate of the entire human race.

This was the reason why Aegon wrote this letter to Viserys.

Viserys sat in his seat, somewhat headache, thinking about what kind of reply he should write to this ancestor who had become a living fossil.

In fact, he didn't forget about Maester Aemon before, but he was afraid that contacting Aemon Targaryen would cause trouble for the other party.

After all, even if many people have forgotten the old man's legitimate Targaryen identity, there are still some people who have not forgotten.

However, since Aemon had already put on the black robe, and he was already very old, with only a few years left to live, he simply let the other party go and did not settle accounts with the old scholar.

And if Viserys, the exiled king who fled to the other side of the Narrow Sea, contacted Aemon at this time, I'm afraid it would bring disaster to the other party.

Viserys was thinking about the reply, and he actually hoped to see Baratheon, Stark, and the White Walkers fight each other and both lose.

He also looked forward to seeing what it would look like when the Seven Kingdoms in their heyday, without division, fought against the Night King's army.

Would the Wall still collapse, and could Robert lead the Seven Kingdoms to resist the attack of the army of the dead?

If the human army really was defeated...

Viserys fell into contemplation.

And the two girls were still struggling to figure out who the great-uncle he was talking about was, counting the people above their grandfather Jaehaerys II.

"Bring me paper and pen."

After thinking for a moment, Viserys finally came back to his senses and raised his head to speak.

The servant hurriedly brought the paper and pen to Viserys, but Viserys only wrote a few words before putting the pen down again.

"Forget it."

"I'll write it later."

Then the young king with silver-gold hair shook his head slightly, then raised his head, his bright eyes looked at Rhaenys and then at Daenerys.

"Next, I have to return to Pentos."

Seeing that Rhaenys was about to say something, Viserys raised a finger to signal her to wait for him to finish.

He continued to explain.

"I still have a lot of things to do in Pentos, and I can't come back for the time being."

"But maybe I will bring you over after a while."

Viserys said, then he stood up, and the brunette girl and Daenerys also stood up.

Viserys hugged Rhaenys, then bent down to touch Daenerys's hair.

At this time.

There was a gasp from the servants outside the dining room, a huge shadow covered the sky above the castle, and then came Balerion's low roar.

Having received Viserys' summons, Balerion, who had rested for the night, arrived as promised in the morning, and its disobedient little brother had been disciplined by Balerion.

"Rhaegal should behave for at least a while."

"Next, Andalos is left to you, Rhaenys."

Viserys instructed again.

"If there's anything you don't understand, you can ask Lord Joffrey or Prince Oberyn."

"Okay."

Rhaenys slightly gathered her skirt and nodded.

Then Viserys put Maester Aemon's letter into his bosom, strode out of the castle, and Balerion had already landed on the training ground waiting.

Thump—

Viserys grabbed the gap in the scales and climbed back onto the dragon.

Balerion let out a low roar, its strong hind legs suddenly exerted force, and its huge wings spread out.

Whoosh~

The dust on the training ground scattered in all directions, and the servants, guards, and two girls on the ground were all blown into a mess.

Then the dragon took off into the sky, flying towards the distance under the scorching sun above its head.

...

Far away.

A baby's cry spread throughout Winterfell.

The old wet nurse, her hands stained with blood, held a newborn baby, a red-haired woman with a pale face lay on the sick bed, panting slightly, and there was a thin layer of cold sweat on her forehead.

"Congratulations, my lord, it's a boy."

Then the old wet nurse cleaned the blood from her hands, pushed open the door, and told the people waiting outside.

Outside the door stood a man who looked about thirty years old with dark brown hair, a pair of grey pupils, and a somewhat serious expression on his face.

If you don't know him, you might mistake it for disdain and indifference to others.

He heard the old wet nurse's words, and his face relaxed for a moment.

"That's great!"

And there were two boys and a girl standing next to the man outside the door. They all breathed a sigh of relief.

One of the boys with auburn hair even waved his fist heavily in the air, looking very excited, then raised his head to look at his father.

"It seems I'm going to have a little brother."

"Father, I told you mother would be fine."

The other boy with dark, slightly curly hair looked a little gloomy when he heard his words.

But the boy's character is more introverted, just pursed his lips and didn't say much.

"Hmm."

And Eddard Stark nodded slightly, but he noticed the expression on his 'youngest son's' face.

Then he raised his hand to rub Jon Snow's hair.

His character is delicate, but he is also not good at words, he can only express with body language.

"Stay here and protect your mother."

The smile on the man's face was fleeting, and then he regained his composure, speaking in a low voice to the three children.

Now that he knew the good news that his wife was safe, he didn't plan to waste any more time here.

Then Eddard Stark left his wife's delivery room and walked towards the not far away.

Outside it was a heavy snowfall, and there was a guard leading a horse waiting for their lord. There was already a thin layer of snow accumulated on their heads.

"Lord Eddard."

The guard held the reins of the war horse, and Eddard Stark didn't say much, just nodded in response.

"Hmm."

Then he took the reins from the guard, mounted the horse.

He raised his head and looked at the direction of the delivery room again, then spurred the horse and left.

On the castle.

The three children watched their father leave, and the only girl pouted her mouth unhappily and said, "Hmph, mother just gave birth to Brandon."

"Father should be with mother at this time!"

"Could it be that he has another..."

The girl's tone was somewhat dissatisfied, and as she spoke, she glanced at her 'brother' with a special status.

The boy who spoke first looked at his sister, then shook his head and said seriously, "Sansa, don't talk nonsense."

"Don't you remember what father always says? Winter is coming, this is the biggest test for our Stark family."

"And I accidentally heard Maester Luwin say..."

The boy named Robb glanced inside the room.

Inside the delivery room, there was only one man, and that was Maester Luwin. Every child of the Stark family was delivered by him.

"Father wrote a letter to King's Landing, King Robert's army is now on its way."

Chapter 249: The Clouds of War

Robb's words fell silent. Outside, the snow continued to fall heavily, blanketing the world in a layer of white. A flock of pitch-black crows descended from the sky.

Flap, flap—

They landed on the eaves of the room, their crimson eyes gleaming. They cocked their heads slightly, pecking at their feathers. It was unclear whether they were watching the three children below or the exhausted woman inside who had just given birth.

Eddard Stark's figure had already receded into the distance. He had known about the reappearance of the White Walkers earlier than Viserys. In fact, he had received the news when his brother Benjen led the rangers to retreat from the Haunted Forest.

This was the first confirmed record of the White Walkers in thousands of years since their last resurgence in human history. Although sightings of White Walkers were reported every few years, most of these were deemed rumors, attributed to rare animals that people had never seen before.

As a result, people gradually stopped believing in the stories of the White Walkers. However, this time, as soon as Benjen returned to the Wall, he reported to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, who was skeptical.

Benjen then wrote a letter and entrusted someone to deliver it to Winterfell. The Old Bear didn't believe him, but Eddard Stark believed that his brother wouldn't make baseless claims.

Therefore, Winterfell began to prepare early, stockpiling food and intensifying the training of soldiers. Then came the expedition of the Night's Watch, which was attacked by the White Walkers and suffered a great defeat, confirming the existence of the White Walkers.

Eddard received this terrible news overnight. After a sleepless night of deep thought, he wrote another letter for help and sent it to King's Landing.

His good brother Robert, upon receiving the plea for help from the North, naturally believed Eddard's words and prepared to mobilize soldiers to support the North. However, his decision was unanimously rejected by the other nobles of the Seven Kingdoms. Of course, they didn't openly defy the king's call, but found various reasons to evade it.

Even House Tyrell, who had just arranged a marriage alliance with the royal family, tactfully expressed their refusal. Only the two brothers of the Baratheon family clearly expressed their willingness to support their elder brother.

The reasons given by the other families were varied, but the ultimate reason and idea were simple: self-preservation. For eight thousand years, news of the resurgence of the White Walkers kept emerging, but the White Walkers never truly returned.

Moreover, this winter was hard for all regions except Dorne. Everyone didn't have the energy to play the 'White Walkers are coming' game with the North. Even the Dornish, who were not affected by winter, couldn't go to support the North. They were accustomed to living in a hot environment and couldn't survive the cold journey to the North. Half of them would freeze to death on the way, and the other half would take the opportunity to escape.

However, just as King Robert was being embarrassed by the nobles who were openly and secretly sending people to probe his intentions and persuade him not to believe the lies of the Northerners, the plea for help from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Mormont, was once again sent to all parts of the country. This time, Old Mormont confirmed in his letter that the White Walkers had indeed reappeared.

If the other families still didn't believe it, they were willing to catch a White Walker and bring it to King's Landing

, and his plea for help was also endorsed by the Citadel. The maesters of the Citadel were preparing to travel to the Wall to witness the existence of the White Walkers themselves.

With the affirmation of the Stark family, King Robert, the Night's Watch, and others, the major families of the Seven Kingdoms began to have some doubts. As a result, they each dispatched a portion of their armies to King's Landing, although the number of this coalition army was still not very large.

In the absence of a real life-and-death crisis, the major families still retained the idea of preserving their strength. After all, war costs money, the lives of soldiers, food, military equipment, and even a trip to the North would cost a lot of money.

However, although the number was not large, it was better than nothing. King Robert himself also had this idea and did not bring out too many royal soldiers.

The crisis of the White Walkers was a thing of eight thousand years ago, and people had long forgotten the threat of the White Walkers. Even if the White Walkers really returned, the Seven Kingdoms did not take them too seriously, believing that the Wall could hold them back.

Subsequently, Robert Baratheon personally led the coalition army, heading north to support the North, while his father-in-law, Jon Arryn, stayed behind in King's Landing to oversee the situation.

Now, the mighty army stretched out for several kilometers, seemingly just reaching the Neck along the Kingsroad, a very long distance from Winterfell, with the armies of the Westerlands still to join along the way.

The army held high the banners of various families in the coalition, with the crowned stag symbol of the Baratheon family in the center. The Baratheon family, as the royal family, contributed the most in terms of both manpower and resources, firmly supporting their good brother.

Meanwhile, Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, had also been intensively training his troops during this time. He didn't even have much time to accompany his wife during childbirth. Seeing that his wife was safe, he didn't waste a moment.

According to the report of the Night's Watch, the number of wildlings appearing outside the Wall had been increasing. Some wildlings even tried to climb over the Wall, but were repelled by the reinforced Night's Watch, resulting in several intense conflicts.

However, these were not the main forces of the wildlings, just some scattered tribes. The real wildling kingdom beyond the Wall had gathered hundreds of thousands of Free Folk. They were divided into hundreds of different cultures, clans, and villages, once fighting each other and falling into a war of mutual slaughter.

But now, these hundreds of thousands of Free Folk from hundreds of different tribes had all united under one King Beyond the Wall.

Mance Rayder.

He united all the wildling tribes and single-handedly created a magnificent kingdom of Free Folk. The wildlings had discovered the traces of the White Walkers earlier than the Night's Watch hiding behind the Wall, which was why they were being driven towards the Wall.

The main force of the kingdom of Free Folk, hundreds of thousands of wildlings, were on their way in a mighty manner. The front line of the Night's Watch was under great pressure, and the clouds of war were almost ready to burst.

Therefore, Eddard Stark had no choice but to issue a conscription order. Now, two armies from the North were stationed on the Wall, providing a great supplement to the Night's Watch, which was severely short of personnel.

In an instant, the 700-foot-high, 300-mile-long Wall was filled with the figures of soldiers. Although this was still insufficient to prevent small groups of wildlings from
sneaking over, with more dying from falls than being killed by the Night's Watch, it could potentially halt a large-scale wildling attack in the future.

"Keep all the wildlings beyond the Wall!"

The White Walkers hadn't shown up in large numbers yet, but the clouds of war between the kingdom of the Free Folk and the Seven Kingdoms had already enveloped this land.

Chapter 250: The Golden Company

In the distant North, a baby boy named Brandon Stark was born. The escalating conflict between the Night's Watch and the wildlings near the Wall, the impending war, could not affect the scenery across the Narrow Sea.

The waves still crashed against the rocks, and the cold wind howled from the sea. It had been a few days since Viserys returned from Andalos. The events of a few days ago were merely a false alarm.

When the king disappeared on the first day, no one took it seriously, after all, he had a dragon by his side. However, when Viserys did not return on the second day, some began to worry.

Jon sent soldiers out of the city to search, and also met with the Beggar Prince, hoping that the Windblown could also help find the king. The Beggar Prince hesitated at first, but seeing Jon's readiness to draw his sword, he finally agreed.

However, after a whole day of searching on the second day, there was still no sign of Viserys. Just when various forces in Pentos were slightly restless, Viserys descended from the sky on his dragon late that night, returning to Pentos.

With the young king's reappearance on his dragon, all the restless voices and thoughts vanished. Viserys returned to Pentos in a high-profile manner, holding Maester Aemon's plea for help, but did not consult his staff.

He decided to keep it for now and wait quietly for news from across the Narrow Sea.

A few days passed.

Viserys was dealing with some official business when Jon Connington suddenly came to his room, bringing him unexpected news.

"The Golden Company?"

At the top of the Nine Towers of Pentos, the sea breeze blew in through the window. The silver-haired youth heard Jon's words and paused, then put down the pen in his hand and looked up.

"Yes."

Jon Connington, sitting across from him with his hands on his knees, spoke seriously.

"The current commander of the Golden Company, 'Blackheart' Myles Toyne, has asked me to convey his request to you."

Myles Toyne first contacted Illyrio, then Jon, and asked Jon to convey his intention to Viserys. He was still in Lys, leading the Golden Company to fulfill their contract with Lys, but he sent a trusted messenger with a verbal message, hoping to come to Pentos one day to meet the 'true dragon', the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

Viserys heard Jon Connington repeat what he had just said, confirming that he had not misheard.

"Oh?"

The commander of the Golden Company wanted to see him... this was interesting.

Viserys stroked his chin thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. He didn't speak immediately, but pondered for a moment, then said.

"As far as I know, Jon."

"The Golden Company was created by the 'Unworthy' King Aegon IV's noble bastard."

The first commander of the Golden Company was 'Bittersteel' Aegor Rivers.

Perhaps others are not too familiar with this name, but Viserys knew it very well. It can be seen in the history of the Targaryen family or the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

In the year 196 AC.

Daemon Blackfyre and his followers started the first 'Blackfyre Rebellion'. As a bastard legitimized by Aegon IV, 'Bittersteel' Aegor Rivers also participated in the Blackfyre Rebellion.

He joined Daemon Blackfyre's side, challenging the legitimacy of the Targaryen family. After the rebellion was suppressed, he fled to Essos and established the Golden Company.

To this day, the Golden Company is filled with descendants of knights and lords who lost their titles and lands in the 'Blackfyre Rebellion'.

The fact that the current commander of the Golden Company, Myles Toyne, suddenly wanted to visit Viserys was intriguing.

"Of course, I know the background of the Golden Company, Your Grace."

Jon Connington took a deep breath, nodded, and spoke.

He had once been Myles Toyne's right-hand man in the Golden Company, effectively serving as the deputy commander.

He left the Golden Company and came to Pentos because of Viserys.

"But..."

Jon Connington hesitated, then carefully chose his words and continued.

"Since its establishment, the Golden Company has been making a living in disputed lands, hired by Myrmen, Lyseni, or Tyroshi, to wage endless wars of harassment."

"But they have always dreamed of reclaiming their ancestral homes."

"They are the descendants of exiles, owning nothing, never forgiven, but also a powerful armed force."

Jon Connington paused again, then said.

"Now the nobles of Westeros have also betrayed the Targaryens."

"The Golden Company may wish to help Your Grace reclaim the Iron Throne, to wash away their sins."

"And hope for Your Grace's forgiveness, to return to their fathers' homeland."

Jon Connington suggested that Viserys should not directly reject the Golden Company's request.

Although he wanted to say that red dragons and black dragons are all family, he eventually held his tongue.

Because the red dragon is a dragon, while the black dragon is a 'dragon' not recognized by the Targaryen family.

Even though they share the same bloodline, it ultimately depends on Viserys's decision.

Viserys pondered for a moment, but neither agreed nor disagreed with Jon's view.

The man with grey-red hair secretly observed Viserys's expression, but unfortunately, he couldn't read anything from it.

Then Viserys nodded and suddenly said.

"Alright."

"Since that's the case, there's no harm in meeting."

Viserys's sudden agreement didn't surprise Jon Connington too much.

Although the Targaryens and the Blackfyres are mortal enemies due to several 'Blackfyre Rebellions', they share the same origin and bloodline.

'Red or black, a dragon is still a dragon.'

Jon Connington suddenly thought of this phrase.

Moreover, the Golden Company has tens of thousands of elite soldiers, five hundred knights, five hundred squires, and a thousand archers, and even terrifying war machines like elephants.

Jon Connington stayed in Viserys's room for a while longer, they chatted for a bit, then Jon excused himself, not wanting to disturb Viserys further.

However, not long after Jon Connington left, there was another knock on the door.

Viserys's room was unusually lively today.

The next person to enter was the Dornish girl, Arianne Martell.

"Viserys."

The girl, dressed in a simple sand-colored dress, brought a tantalizing fragrance as she walked in.

She casually sat on the armrest of Viserys's chair, then leaned over and gently kissed his cheek.

Chapter 251: Lovers

Hello everyone, translator here. I'm back rested and ready to go. If the title of the chapter hasn't given it away already then let me say this is the first chapter that foreshadows the harem tag that many of you have been dreading. So far (at least for this release of 25 chapters) I can say it doesn't become to degenerate or really shift from the tone much the R18 can be considered more fan service than anything and after about 2 or 3 chapters the story goes right back into non-love related plot. So far there is just 1 lover for the MC but that may change in the future.

I have always said that the moment I read any bit of the story that confirms that harem tag I would make updates to the book and I have. If this is where you get off I completely understand and wish you the best of luck finding an awesome book you can enjoy.

For everyone else please enjoy this weekend release of 25 chapters. If you run accross anything that made it through my initial edit as always please leave paragraph comment and I will get to it as soon as I can to make changes.

Have a great weekend :)

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Arianne gently kissed his cheek, opening her bright eyes to gaze intently at him from close range, then softly whispered with her lips slightly parted.

"My love."

The sound of quill scratching on parchment filled the room as Viserys sat in his chair, writing the last word on the paper. He then put down his quill, looking up at the beauty sitting beside him.

"Arianne."

Viserys reached out to hold the slender waist of the young girl, pulling her into his embrace. Arianne let out a soft gasp, then fell into Viserys' arms.

The flames in the room's fireplace could not compare to the warmth of the beauty in his arms. Viserys held Arianne, looking down at her face, while the Dornish girl gazed back at him with her dark eyes.

The young man's silver-gold hair fell onto her ample chest, his light purple eyes sparkling. He then leaned down to kiss her deeply.

The girl in his arms let out a moan as if sinking into a quagmire, then completely surrendered herself. After a while, she released him, panting slightly, her eyes full of adoration.

After several months together, it was only natural that Arianne and Viserys' relationship had progressed to that of lovers.

Viserys needed Dorne.

Just as he needed the Golden Company.

"My love, when will I be able to meet Rhaenys and little Dany?" Arianne, lying in Viserys' arms with her arm around his neck, looked into his eyes and asked.

She was eager to meet Viserys' family. She knew that Viserys had a sister and a niece.

Rhaenys Targaryen was her aunt's daughter, making her Arianne's cousin. She knew the 'rules' of House Targaryen; Viserys could not have just one woman, he had to ensure the purity of the Targaryen bloodline.

However, Arianne didn't mind. The customs of Dorne were such that keeping mistresses and bastards was not a big deal. What Arianne and Dorne wanted was the title of Queen of the Targaryens.

So she wanted to establish a good relationship with her cousin Rhaenys in advance, which would be a help in the future, as Rhaenys also had Dornish blood.

"Soon," Viserys replied, raising an eyebrow at Arianne's question.

He looked at the expression on her face, seemed to ponder something, then nodded. "I will bring Rhaenys and Dany here."

"Really?"

"That's great."

The Dornish girl stretched lazily in Viserys' arms, then sat up. She kissed his cheek again, then stood up, her slender hand still on his shoulder.

"This afternoon, I plan to go out of the city with the Sand Snakes. Would you like to come with us?"

"Where to?" Viserys asked curiously from his chair.

"The Sunrise Gate."

The largest gate in Pentos was called the Sunrise Gate. It was outside this gate that Khal Drogo had fought fiercely after the accidental death of Khal Baelor, and where Drogo had sought to challenge Viserys, who was not at the Sunrise Gate at the time, and thus found nothing.

"Oh?"

Viserys thought for a moment, then nodded. "Sure."

He had plans to go there this afternoon anyway.

The Red Temple was located near the Sunrise Gate, and Melisandre had already arranged to meet him there.

...

By the afternoon, Viserys was riding his
white warhorse, while the white mare he used to ride had been given to Arianne.

"I'll go ahead, my love," Arianne kissed Viserys' cheek.

Viserys nodded slightly, and the girl spurred her white horse towards the Sand Snakes, who had been waiting for her for some time.

They were planning a hunting trip today.

Dornish girls were different from women in other parts of the Seven Kingdoms. Because of their relatively equal status, girls also had inheritance rights.

So they could choose to wield swords and spears, rather than just sitting at a dressing table being a lady.

Like their father, the Sand Snakes were all skilled fighters and experts in poisons. Arianne herself was a decent horsewoman and fighter.

So their only hobby in Pentos was hunting.

Even though they liked adventure, Viserys still sent a group of guards to protect them, to prevent any accidents. After all, Arianne's position was very important.

The young king with the golden crown sat on his horse, the golden sunlight reflecting off him.

Viserys watched the Dornish girls and their guards leave, then slowly turned his gaze away.

At that moment...

The sound of hooves...

Melisandre, the red priestess , rode a black horse to his side, taking Arianne's place after she left.

The breeze stirred Melisandre's coppery hair, then she turned her head and said, "Princess Arianne Martell is noble, she is one of the best candidates to be queen."

"But she is not destined to be queen."

"Hmm?"

Viserys had just turned his gaze away, and when he heard Melisandre's words, he turned to look at her.

Melisandre looked straight ahead, her gaze calm as she met Viserys' eyes, then after a few seconds, she seemed uncomfortable and looked down.

"Why do you say that?" Viserys was silent for a while, then looked again at the distant figure of Arianne leaving. The cold wind stirred his hair, and he turned to look at Melisandre and asked, "Are you reading her face or her palm?"

"Have you learned to divine now?"

He didn't believe in fate.

Because his fate had already changed. If he really followed fate, he should still be with his sister, being passed around among the noble families of Pentos.

But now those noble families of Pentos had been wiped out by him, and he had become the master of Pentos.

"I..."

"I don't know."

However, when faced with Viserys' question, the red priestess clearly hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.

She didn't understand the 'face reading', 'palm reading', and 'divination' Viserys mentioned.

But by understanding the words, she seemed to grasp the general idea.

"I just follow the instructions of the Lord of Light," Melisandre hesitated for a moment before saying.

Chapter 252: The Deer Hunt

However, upon hearing the words of the red priestess, Viserys shook his head slightly and couldn't help but chuckle.

"You said, the Lord of Light is the true god."

He then pulled on the reins, turning his horse around and continued to speak.

"And if the true god has so many followers, how would he have time to concern himself with who my woman is?"

"This..."

Melisandre was momentarily at a loss for words, opening her mouth but not knowing how to respond.

But she also turned her horse around to follow Viserys, descending the hillside.

"Go."

Viserys rode ahead, turning his head to glance at Melisandre before speaking again.

"I'm not afraid to tell you."

"I received a letter from my great-uncle. The Others have been sighted at the Wall."

Viserys was with Melisandre today to handle some religious matters.

If he wanted to truly win the Seven Kingdoms and rule for a long time, he needed the support of the followers of the Seven. This was something the Targaryen family had known since the time of his ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, when he conquered Westeros.

And in Pentos, to gain widespread support on this land, he had to rely on the local church.

The followers of the Red God were growing rapidly on the continent of Essos, sweeping through some cities without mainstream religious factions, and even some city-states with local deities were invaded by followers of the Red God.

Such as Oldtown, Qohor, and so on.

Following behind Viserys, Melisandre was still pondering the question he had just raised, thinking about how to respond.

But after thinking about it, Melisandre herself became confused.

She wasn't sure if she had received a warning from the Lord of Light, or if she simply didn't think Arianne was a suitable choice...

So she used the name of the Lord of Light to subconsciously warn Viserys.

Because it originated from her heart, she hadn't seen the answer in the flames, it was just a whim, and she couldn't help but blurt it out.

But she didn't expect Viserys to see through her, so she was momentarily at a loss for words.

However, at this moment, she heard Viserys casually mention something.

"Hmm?"

The red priestess slightly raised her head, paused for a moment, and initially didn't realize what Viserys was saying.

Then she heard Viserys repeat it, and her face changed slightly.

"The Others?"

"Do you mean the Others have been sighted at the Wall?"

In the afternoon.

The sun overhead was still brilliant, shining on the woman's fair chest, a gorgeous necklace, the red gem in the middle reflecting a faint light.

Melisandre spoke urgently.

"Your Grace, could I see that letter?"

...

Night fell quickly.

The sky had completely darkened, and every household in the prosperous city-state of Pentos had lit their lamps.

The girls who had gone out hunting finally returned with the game they had caught today.

Although it was now winter, and many hibernating animals had reduced their range of activity, the girls' trip was not in vain.

Obara, the eldest of the Sand Snakes, had suffered a minor injury. She had been slapped by a bear while hunting with her sisters.

Then the soldiers protecting the sisters rushed up and killed the poor bear that had come out of hibernation looking for food.

Obara had been injured, likely a broken rib, but the palace physician had set it right, and she should be fine.

This time, the four girls had hunted a
bear and a stag together.

Actually, the soldiers had contributed more than the girls. For instance, Arianne was smart and just shot arrows from behind, not foolishly rushing in like Obara.

So when Arianne returned, she still had energy. She wanted to personally cook a dish with a taste of home for her lover.

This was a special program they had agreed upon during the day, and Viserys had been looking forward to it for a long time.

Then the soldiers carried the stag into the kitchen, Arianne rolled up her sleeves, personally picked up a short knife her father had given her, and began to dissect the stag.

The stag was a small program effect Arianne had prepared in advance because it could be suggestive, and she believed Viserys would like it.

However, Arianne's short knife didn't seem very sharp, and she had some difficulty dissecting the stag.

Then Viserys took out a short knife from his bosom and gave it to her.

This was the weapon left by the Faceless Man who had tried to assassinate Viserys. There were two of these knives, likely a set.

The first was abandoned in the palace during the assassination, and the second was found on the body of the Faceless Man when he was killed by Viserys.

Both of these short knives were made of Valyrian steel.

"This is... Valyrian steel?"

Arianne was both surprised and delighted to see the knife.

Although it was just two short knives, not much weight, and even if melted down, they couldn't forge a sword, they were still very precious.

"My love, are you really willing to give this to me?"

Arianne looked very happy, and she kissed Viserys on the cheek.

Then the dinner went very smoothly, and everyone in the palace participated.

Viserys also tasted the deer leg roasted by Arianne herself, sprinkled with a special spice, which indeed had a strong Dornish flavor.

And there was also a bear paw that had been slow-cooked for a long time, very rich in collagen, the skin, meat, and bones all falling apart.

During the banquet, the red priestess frequently looked up at Viserys, seeming somewhat restless.

She had seen Maester Aemon Targaryen's letter for help during the day, knew about the revival of the Others, and perhaps it wouldn't be long before news of the allied forces supporting the North would reach Pentos.

Soon after, the banquet ended.

Viserys was just about to leave, but Melisandre came in front of him and spoke.

"Your Grace."

"Can we talk?"

Melisandre looked at Viserys with a piercing gaze, and Arianne also came over.

Viserys looked at Melisandre, then at the dark sky outside, and shook his head.

"Tomorrow."

He knew what the red priestess wanted to talk to him about.

And Melisandre also nodded, she understood that this matter couldn't be rushed.

Then the red priestess smiled politely at Arianne who was coming over, and passed by her.

And Arianne also smiled politely, reaching out to take Viserys' arm.

She turned her head to look at Melisandre's retreating figure.

Then she followed Viserys into his bedroom….

~Deep into the night~

The Nine Towers Palace had fallen into a profound silence, with only the night guards continuing their relentless patrols.

In a spacious and luxurious bedroom, two figures were entwined, and suppressed sounds kept emanating from the gap in the door.

The room was dimly lit, with the flames in the fireplace mostly obscured, leaving only a single candle by the bed flickering gently.

Sigh~

The flickering light cast the shadows of the two passionately entwined figures on the wall of the bedroom. The girl was gripping the sheets tightly, her nails turning somewhat white, and she couldn't help but let out some hoarse sounds.

The man's shadow on the wall was characterized by long silver-gold hair, his chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily, his hands holding the girl's slender waist, which was bare of any covering.

"I... I can't go on..."

Eventually, Arianne's stamina gave out, and she collapsed onto the soft sheets, panting heavily, her body covered in sweat.

Thump.

Viserys, too, was panting lightly, collapsing next to her.

Sigh~

The single candle by the bed flickered again, and the heat in the room, along with the lingering hormones, slowly dissipated.

"My love."

After lying on the bed and resting for a while, Arianne rolled over to Viserys' side.

She extended her arm to gently wrap around his neck, and with the other leg, she placed it on Viserys, her toes lightly sliding on his calf, and she kissed him on the face again.

However, perhaps because she had just transitioned from a girl to a woman, there was some soreness from the strain, and Arianne couldn't help but frown.

"It hurts a bit..."

There was a red mark on the chaotic sheets.

"But, your stamina is really..."

Arianne didn't know what to say, Viserys' stamina was too impressive, she was almost exhausted, and he still had plenty of energy.

But Arianne wouldn't blame the boy for being too forceful after the first time, like other girls, for not knowing how to cherish jade.

Dorne advocates gender equality, mutual enjoyment rather than delicate pretense.

Men think they are enjoying the soft bodies of Dornish girls, but in fact, if the man is good-looking or has 'outstanding ability', Dornish girls might even think they 'prostituted' the man.

They wouldn't be stingy about leaving a few copper coins by the bed the next morning.

"You took my virginity, Viserys."

Arianne, still sweaty, clung tightly to her lover.

Her fingers were constantly sliding on his chest, as if provoking him, and her beautiful almond-colored eyes were looking at him at close range.

From the time Arianne was only eight or nine years old, she knew she had a fiancé.

At first, Arianne was a bit angry, but at that time, she only knew the name.

Later, because of the movements Viserys made across the Narrow Sea, her father, Prince Doran, gradually told her a lot of news about her fiancé.

Viserys was different from his original trajectory in fate, at that time, Viserys was just a destitute 'Beggar King'.

But now, Viserys is a true-born king with tens of thousands of soldiers under his command, two main cities, three dragons, and his fame has spread far and wide.

And Arianne got to know what kind of person Viserys was in this process of gradually understanding.

Although he was close in age to her, he had endured so much hardship, faced so many life and death crises, so many people wanted to kill him, and in the end, he achieved so much.

Compared to him.

The boys of her age who appeared in front of Arianne were almost insignificant. They were still playing 'knight games', even though Dorne, like the North and the Iron Islands, didn't have many knights.

"Hmm."

Viserys also exhaled lightly.

He indeed took Arianne's virginity, he felt that barrier from the very beginning.

But his condition was somewhat better than Arianne's. His extraordinary physique meant this level of physical exertion was nothing to him, and he recovered quickly.

However, Arianne's ability was also impressive, managing to entangle with him, who had an extraordinary physique, for such a long time.

But at this moment.

Viserys seemed a bit irritated by Arianne's provocation, then his arm muscles tensed up, and with a slight effort, he lifted her up and placed her on top of him.

"Oh!"

"Wait a minute."

The Dornish girl didn't expect Viserys to suddenly make a move, she let out a soft exclamation, her full chest slightly jiggling.

She was even more surprised by his rapid recovery. Her body felt like it was about to fall apart, as if she had just been beaten up.

But Viserys had already recovered at this point.

Didn't Arya say that men recover slower than women?

This liar!

Arianne complained inwardly.

"Hmph."

But on the surface, the Dornish girl just showed a hint of resentment on her face, then gently lay on Viserys, her full chest pressing against his chest.

Then she drew a circle with her fingertip and asked softly.

"So... Viserys, I have a question."

Viserys lay on the soft bed, the candle by the bed flickering, he watched the Dornish girl playing the circle-drawing game on him, then nodded.

"Ask."

Arianne blinked her eyes slightly, then asked.

"Between me and that woman, who makes you feel more comfortable?"

Facing this kind of question, the Dornish girl had no shyness, and asked directly.

"That woman?"

Viserys was taken aback, he looked up at the girl sitting on him.

He didn't understand who 'that woman' she was referring to was at first.

"Who?"

But Viserys was quick to react, after a brief thought, he understood that Arianne seemed to be referring to the red-robed witch.

Arianne had noticed this red-robed woman who always appeared by Viserys' side many times.

"You mean... Melisandre?"

Viserys caught Arianne's restless little hand, then shook his head and said.

"No, I haven't slept with this woman."

He was telling the truth, although Melisandre was also very beautiful and had a unique allure, they hadn't had a relationship, it was just a clean master-servant relationship.

"This is also my first time."

Viserys said.

"Really?"

In the dim candlelight.

Arianne blinked her eyes, clearly somewhat disbelieving, and asked.

As the Young Dragon Lord with tens of thousands of soldiers, theoretically the heir to the Iron Throne, Arianne thought there would be women lining up from the east to the west of Pentos city wanting to climb into Viserys' bed.

"Really."

Viserys took a deep breath and nodded.

This life was indeed his first time, but... it wasn't in his previous life.

Chapter 253: Watching the Changes

The following morning.

The bright sunlight penetrated through the window, illuminating the elegantly styled bedroom. The candle by the bed had long since extinguished, and the exquisite light-colored curtains were swaying in the wind.

A soft bed, large enough to accommodate three or four adults, was placed in the center of the room. Golden curtains hung down, and the emblem of the three-headed dragon was hung on the wall above the bed.

Now, the sun had risen.

Viserys was sitting on the edge of the bed, buttoning up one by one, feeling refreshed, and even his mind was much clearer.

"Indeed, one should not suppress one's desires too much."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of about human instincts."

Viserys shook his head.

The Dornish girl with olive skin was still sleeping soundly on the soft bed.

After a night of tossing and turning, Arianne was somewhat exhausted, and she didn't even notice how indecent her sleeping posture was.

Viserys turned his head to look at Arianne, who was still sleeping soundly.

The girl's legs were wrapped around the blanket, just like she had wrapped around Viserys the night before, revealing half of her full chest. She was sleeping very deeply. Viserys saw this and shook his head slightly, then arranged the blanket for Arianne.

Then he leaned over and gently kissed her on the forehead.

As he kissed, Viserys' silver-gold hair fell on the girl's cheek, seemingly affecting the sleeping Arianne, causing her to sniff slightly.

"Rest well, Arianne."

Then Viserys stood up, picked up his coat from the chair, put it on, and strode out of the room.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

The servants passing by in the palace corridor saw Viserys and quickly bowed slightly in salute.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom.

As soon as Viserys left the room, Arianne slowly opened her eyes.

Then she raised her hand, her fingers gently touching the place where her lover had just kissed her.

Arianne had actually woken up when Viserys was getting dressed, but the girl's little mind was stirring, wanting to see what kind of attitude Viserys would have towards her behind her back.

Then a satisfied smile appeared on her face, and her delicate body wrapped in the soft blanket curled up.

...

Soon.

Another half a month passed in a hurry.

News about Westeros also gradually reached Pentos.

However, these news only indicated that there was a wildling uprising in the bitter cold lands north of the Wall.

Viserys sat in his study, looking at the intelligence in his hand and fell into thought.

The King Beyond the Wall had organized hundreds of tribes, adding up to hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, from old men to children, marching towards the Wall, preparing to launch an attack on the Seven Kingdoms.

And the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the protectors of all Westeros, King Robert Baratheon I, personally led the combined armies of the Stag, the Fish, the Eagle, the Lion, and the Rose families to the North.

To assist the North in resisting the challenge of the wildlings, even the Dornish symbolically sent a force to respond to the king's call.

This is the official reason.

The major nobles are still keeping the news of the White Walkers' resurrection strictly confidential, not leaking it out for fear of causing panic, which would lead to irreversible consequences.

And ever since Viserys received the letter from Maester Aemon, he has been closely watching the
development of the situation in Westeros.

Now it seems that before the real arrival of the White Walkers, Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall, is going to have a head-on battle with the king of the Seven Kingdoms at the Wall.

However, about the outcome of this battle...

Viserys felt there was no suspense.

Although the Free Folk Kingdom claimed to have hundreds of thousands of wildlings, Viserys knew that there was a lot of exaggeration in this, because all the wildlings were soldiers, with men, women, and children all mixed in.

And the weapons and equipment of the wildlings were extremely scarce, even most of these hundreds of thousands of wildlings could only use weapons like wooden clubs and stone axes, not to mention armor, only a few adult male wildlings might be able to get a helmet, or some kind of arm guard.

Their command structure was chaotic, they had not undergone training, and could only rely on their courage. Even taking down the Night's Watch, which had less than a thousand men, was a bit of a struggle, let alone Robert Baratheon, who had assembled the armies of the Seven Kingdoms.

If Robert were to be defeated by the wildlings, he might as well not return to King's Landing at all, and just commit suicide on the way.

What Viserys was thinking about was another problem.

"It seems that among the commanders of this alliance, Eddard Stark, Jeor Mormont, Robert Baratheon..."

Viserys heard that Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Dragonstone, who had nothing better to do, was also going to the Wall.

"Without someone like Jon Snow among these people, they probably won't let the wildlings into the Wall."

The wildlings beyond the Wall were lawless, even unwilling to submit to royal power, and did not engage in production, living by burning, killing, and looting.

If they were allowed into the Wall, it would inevitably cause a great shock to the stable order of the Seven Kingdoms, and even leave a legacy for a thousand years.

"And if they don't let these wildlings into the Wall..."

"Then when the real White Walkers arrive, they will become an army of hundreds of thousands of dead."

Viserys sat at his desk, the breeze blowing through the window screen, the bright sunlight outside was warm, he was interested in thinking that this time the Night King's army might be even stronger than in the original trajectory.

However, correspondingly, the strength of the human alliance is also stronger than in the original trajectory.

This is a Seven Kingdoms that has not yet split, the brave and warlike Robert Baratheon, who once took the Iron Throne on horseback, is not dead yet, including Eddard Stark, Stannis, and other famous commanders gathered together.

This time, will it be the army of the dead that wins, or will humans defeat evil and drive the White Walkers back to the Land of Always Winter?

For the time being, Viserys hopes to sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight, quietly waiting for the changes to see if they will be as he expects.

After all, he is still on the other side of the Narrow Sea, the Iron Throne has changed hands and is no longer firmly held by the Targaryen family, whoever sits on the throne has to take responsibility.

Now that the Baratheon family, in alliance with the wolf, fish, eagle, and lion families, has taken the Iron Throne, no one can say that saving the Seven Kingdoms and all mankind is his duty and responsibility.

Viserys can watch with cold eyes without any psychological burden.

And... can the army of
the dead swim?

However, having said that, Viserys also doesn't want a Westeros where humanity has been wiped out.

Although it sounds like a joke now.

But if Westeros is really occupied by the army of the dead, and the cold winds of the Land of Always Winter even blow to Dorne.

At that time, who knows if these uncontrollable armies of the dead could swim across the Narrow Sea?

At this moment.

Bang--

The door to Viserys' study was pushed open, and a figure hurried in.

"Your Majesty!"

"Urgent news!"

Chapter 254: Power Vacuum

The man who arrived was Jon Connington.

Illyrio had been away from Pentos for a long time.

Given the rise of the Targaryens and the almost inevitable conflict with Braavos, a falling out was imminent.

As the leading Free City, Braavos naturally wanted to suppress the Targaryens, who were rising challengers.

Therefore, after careful consideration, Viserys sent Illyrio, who had connections and had previously traveled to the distant Slaver's Bay to purchase Unsullied.

Ever since Viserys saw the Unsullied at Illyrio's mansion and witnessed Jon Connington leading a dozen Unsullied disguised as Pentos guards during the Red Night, he had been fascinated by these elite soldiers. The Unsullied obey their master's commands absolutely and fear nothing, which is exactly what Viserys needs now.

In the future, whether facing pressure from Braavos or expanding into other territories, or even invading Westeros, the Unsullied will have ample room to perform.

Do the Unsullied have any drawbacks?

Yes.

The only drawback of the Unsullied is their high cost, but expensive things often only have the drawback of being expensive, and this may not be their drawback, but yours.

And Viserys is particularly generous in this regard.

Is he rich?

Viserys is very rich now.

After looting the governor's families of Pentos, the remaining money is enough to dazzle Viserys, who has seen the remaining wealth of the Targaryen family.

These governors, who have been sucking the marrow from the people of Pentos, have made unimaginable amounts of money.

Therefore, Viserys could be so generous, waving his hand to let Illyrio take the money and go, showing great trust, not worrying at all that Illyrio would take the money and run.

As for Astapor, as long as you bring money, you don't have to worry about them taking the money and not delivering.

The good masters of Slaver's Bay may have long lost their morals, but they are very trustworthy in business. They deeply understand the importance of credit in business.

Now.

Viserys has sent Illyrio to buy Unsullied to expand his military power.

And Jon Connington has become the only person he can trust in front of him.

So Jon, who was still idle before, started to get busy, running around, diligently handling all kinds of affairs.

In fact, Jon Connington's say in Pentos now is even greater than that of the Ragged Prince, who is now the Prince of Pentos.

The Ragged Prince once dreamed of returning to his hometown and taking power, but when he really sat in this position...

The Ragged Prince found that he seemed... to have been tricked.

Viserys seems to have no intention of leaving Pentos, and he doesn't have the courage to drive Viserys away.

So Viserys stays in the Palace of the Nine Towers without having to step out, and all the power of Pentos is in his control.

The Ragged Prince is like a balloon, floating in mid-air, seemingly powerful, but his real power has been hollowed out.

Even the brothers of the Windblown, who have now become the city guard, have begun to change their positions.

They used to follow a leader, but now they suddenly find that there is a bigger leader above the leader.

And at this time, you have a chance to follow the bigger leader, do you go or not?

"Go."

So many of the brothers of the Windblown gradually changed their positions under the covert threats and inducements of Ramsay Snow.

They began to perfunctorily carry out the Ragged Prince's orders, learning the official art of flattery.

Even the Ragged Prince's most trusted lieutenants, the 'War Poet' Denzo D'han and the Dothraki Caggo Corpsekiller, began to waver, and the way they looked at the Ragged Prince gradually became a bit off.

"We used to live well when we were all suffering together..."

"Why did I lead the brothers to change their fate, only to end up like this?"

The Ragged Prince was puzzled, perhaps he knew the reason, but he didn't want to face this reality.

"People's hearts change easily."

The Ragged Prince could only sigh like this.

Following a young and ambitious lord with more power and future is definitely more promising than following someone who is old and has been hollowed out.

Not long ago, Jon Connington wanted the Ragged Prince to order a search for Viserys.

At that time, the Ragged Prince was a bit hesitant, and Jon even drew his sword.

However, he didn't expect that before he could speak, a large group of former Windblown brothers followed Jon at his call.

He then hurriedly added orders to prevent anyone from seeing what was going on.

And now, Jon Connington hurriedly brought Viserys not good news.

"The Dothraki are coming to attack Pentos?"

Viserys sat at his desk, put down the intelligence in his hand, looked up at Jon, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Where did you get this news?"

The man with gray-red long hair sitting opposite Viserys explained, and Viserys frowned again after listening.

"You mean... the Dothraki are claiming to avenge the governor's friends of Pentos?"

"So they want to attack Pentos?"

Do the Dothraki even have friends?

Viserys shook his head when he heard this clumsy reason, and even couldn't help but want to laugh a little.

It would be more customary for everyone if the Dothraki simply stated that they wanted to take the opportunity to loot this rich pearl of the bay.

From the Century of Blood, the Dothraki, as barbarians, appeared on the world stage and by now this nomadic nation has destroyed countless cities and exterminated countless races.

Now, five khals of the Dothraki have united, close to eighty thousand horse warriors, a scale comparable to the 'Battle of Qohor' that destroyed the Kingdom of Sarnor.

"They really think highly of me."

"And they really... never rest."

Viserys sighed.

He originally planned to sit back and watch the fight, watching the war between the Seven Kingdoms and the Wildlings in Westeros, and the upcoming war between the Others and humans.

However, the gods didn't want him to rest for too long, so they sent him another enemy, so he didn't have a chance to slack off here.

Viserys shook his head slightly.

But strangely, he didn't feel too nervous inside, maybe he was used to the tense life.

From King's Landing to Dragonstone to Andalos and then to Pentos, every step of Viserys has significant changes.

And now he is going to wait in Pentos for the challenge of the Dothraki.

Chapter 255: The War is Coming

After a moment of contemplation, Viserys spoke.

"Jon, keep this matter confidential."

"Then tell the Ragged Prince and those families, whoever can provide men should provide men, whoever can provide money should provide money."

Viserys said.

The governor's families of Pentos had been wiped out, but some of the wealthy merchant families who had escaped and saw no follow-up had timidly returned.

After all, their assets, business, and the heritage of generations were here, and these could not be easily transferred in a short time. Therefore, Viserys was not afraid that they would run away again after hearing the news.

However, at this time, all of them were used by Viserys.

Because Viserys believed that they were also very clear that if Pentos was really captured by the Dothraki, that would be a real catastrophe.

Perhaps something a hundred times more terrifying than the 'Red Night' would happen, and it is not impossible for the city-state of Pentos to become history.

"Understood."

Jon Connington nodded slightly.

He had personally commanded a major battle, and although the final result of the 'Battle of the Bells' was a defeat for the royal army, the reasons were very complex, and it cannot be denied that Jon Connington is an excellent commander.

In the end, Aerys II stripped him of his title and expelled Jon, which indirectly led to the tragic outcome of King's Landing's fall later.

And now, resisting the aggressive Dothraki is Jon's moment to prove himself again.

Now, thinking about these things, the man with gray-red long hair couldn't help but feel his blood boiling.

He was waiting for such an opportunity, since being expelled from King's Landing by the king, wandering on the continent of Essos and only able to mix in a mercenary group like the Golden Company.

Although Jon, with his excellent abilities, commanded several battles and achieved victories, eventually climbing to the position of the right hand of the group leader, Myles Toyne.

However, Jon was still not satisfied with this. It is easy to go from frugality to luxury, but it is difficult to go from luxury to frugality.

Jon Connington, after all, had become the Lord of Griffin's Roost and the Hand of the King when he was only a few years older than Viserys is now. Now he has fallen to the commander of a mercenary group, how could he be content?

Therefore, he led Rhaegar's son Aegon to Viserys, one is to fulfill the honor and loyalty to return the prince, and the other is to get an opportunity to prove himself again.

He is a loser, but he is not willing to lose.

He is not old yet, he is still in his prime.

And Viserys seemed to see the spark of fire gradually burning in the heart of this former Hand of his father's king.

He squinted his eyes slightly, then spoke.

"In that case."

"Jon."

"You are my most reliable right-hand man in Pentos, and I will need to rely on you a lot in the upcoming war."

Viserys saw the ambition burning in Jon's heart.

Everyone has their own ambitions, but everyone's pursuits are different.

Just as the Ragged Prince hopes to monopolize power, Aegon hopes to get his uncle's approval, and Jon is eager to get honor and fame, even power is secondary to him, and money is even more insignificant.

Some people love power, some are lustful, and some hope to get honor.

Although Viserys seems to be only sixteen years old, his ability to read
people and situations far exceeds his apparent age, so he arranges a suitable position for Jon to cater to his preferences.

As a king and the core of the Targaryen power, Viserys doesn't just need to show off, flirt, and squander every day.

A monarch who spends his time enjoying wine and flowers every day cannot support a large empire.

Especially for a founding monarch, Viserys's goal is almost to rebuild an empire.

On the contrary, he has a lot to consider, every aspect of the matter is detailed, and he doesn't think there is anything wrong with observing his subordinates.

After all, no one owes him anything, and Jon is the same.

Fully grasp the thoughts and demands of each subordinate, so as to unite everyone together and become an indestructible team and force.

This is the experience Viserys has summarized from his previous position, and has used it today, making him a king who is a bit 'respectful of talents' and 'different from others' in the eyes of others.

Sure enough, as Viserys's words fell, Jon's heart jumped violently, and then he raised his head to look at Viserys.

Although Jon has experienced several ups and downs in his life, and his heart has become as hard as iron, it must be said that Viserys's words are just right and hit the only soft spot in his heart.

There are both emotions of being moved and melancholy.

Jon thought of the past eight or nine years, and finally sighed.

"Your Majesty, your elder brother was once a person like you."

Then the man stood up, with both genuine emotion and a bit of playacting, clenched his fist and pounded it on his chest.

Then he knelt on one knee.

"I am willing to block the eighty thousand Dothraki army for Your Majesty."

...

Soon.

Another two months passed in a hurry.

Eighty thousand Dothraki riders are killing towards the western world, and such a movement cannot be stopped.

Although Viserys had received the news a long time ago and strictly blocked the spread, the news gradually spread and became a hot topic.

People fled Pentos to seek other ways out, and some people who couldn't leave Pentos were in a state of anxiety, not knowing what the future would be like, whether Viserys could hold Pentos.

And the Targaryen family's army has been actively preparing for war since a long time ago.

Jon Connington worked tirelessly, fully utilizing his command and dispatch capabilities from his time as Hand of the King.

One after another, orders were issued from his hands.

Collecting food and fodder, hoarding oil, making weapons and city defense weapons, rolling logs, boulders, trebuchets, reinforcing city walls, and temporarily hiring a large number of mercenaries and wandering knights.

The number of city defense forces in Pentos doubled.

And in the distant Ghoyan Drohe.

Now the newly built Castle of Valor, where the First Legion is stationed, is also receiving a flurry of intelligence every day.

The Castle of Valor was built on the ruins of Ghoyan Drohe.

Built near the river and the mountain, it blocks all possibilities of invasion from the southeast direction into the Andal plain. The geographical location is extremely important, a transportation hub for water and land, and easy to defend and difficult to attack.

The Rhoynar people chose to build a city here for such considerations.

And now, with five khals joining forces and eighty thousand Dothraki, the forefront of the troops has appeared within the control range of the First Legion.

More than ten thousand Andal soldiers of the First Legion, under the command of Commander Bessie, contracted their defense
line, retreating to the easily defensible strongholds.

The clouds of a great war gradually loomed over this land.

Chapter 256: Pre-War Meeting

"According to the intelligence from the Legion Commander, a portion of the Dothraki vanguard has already reached the base of Castle Valor," Jon Connington reported, his bright armor reflecting the candlelight.

The room was brightly lit.

Viserys, too, was dressed in full military attire, flanked by the main commanders of the Pentos guard, including the Ragged Prince. A large map covered the long command table, visible to all.

The map spanned from the Golden Fields in the south to Andalos and Norvos in the north, including Pentos. The great plains between Pentos and Myr were the focus of the map, marked with many notations.

For the purpose of war-gaming, small dragon wood carvings representing the Targaryen army and five small horse carvings symbolizing the Horse King were placed on top.

"As for... the main force of the Dothraki is here," Jon Connington continued, pointing with a command stick to a large mountain in the middle of the plains. This was the only mountain range in the vast plains.

The Dothraki had divided their forces.

Perhaps due to the lack of unified command among the five Khals, or perhaps due to their confidence in their own military strength, the eighty thousand Dothraki were almost twice the strength of the Targaryen forces.

If you count the villages and towns they had conquered along the way, and the slaves they had captured to serve as cannon fodder, the Dothraki army had swelled to over a hundred thousand.

Two Khals, Khal Jhogo and Khal Moro, had combined their khalasars.

Thirty thousand Dothraki warriors, driving slaves before them, had separated from the main force on the great plains and were heading straight for the confluence at the Trident.

There, the Targaryen's First Legion was stationed, numbering ten thousand men.

The main force of the Dothraki, led by the elderly Khal Mors, and Khal Jhaqo and Khal Pono, who had some previous grievances but were now united, were heading straight for Pentos.

"Lord Connington, there's something I don't understand," a voice broke the silence.

"Don't these Dothraki know that a fist is most powerful when it's clenched?"

In the meeting hall of the Nine Towers Palace, Denzo D'han, the former captain of the Windblown, known as the 'War Poet', spoke up, his confusion evident.

Although he had commanded the mercenary company in battle and had achieved remarkable success, he was now involved in commanding an epic battle with over a hundred thousand soldiers on a battlefield hundreds of kilometers deep...

His abilities were somewhat stretched, and his mind was struggling to keep up.

This phenomenon was not unique to Denzo D'han.

Apart from Viserys and Jon Connington, who remained calm, everyone else was at a loss, even the Ragged Prince.

Viserys had studied war knowledge with Maester Daniel and had observed and learned practical application from Ser Joffrey, the commander of the Dragonstone fleet. He had personally commanded a large battle of over ten thousand men.

Viserys was a product of formal education and had achieved brilliant results in practical application.

Jon Connington's situation was similar to Viserys's. He had received a good education and had experience commanding large battles.

Therefore, the two of them remained calm in the face of eighty thousand Dothraki and tens of thousands of displaced people, totaling over a hundred thousand enemies.

But the Ragged Prince, who had only ever commanded the Windblown of over two thousand men, and his subordinate mercenary commanders were far behind, both in terms of courage and intellect.

Denzo D'han didn't understand why the Dothraki had divided their forces.

The other commanders of the Pentos guard nodded in agreement.

They too had this question. Facing an enemy twice their size, they maintained a brave front, but inwardly they were contemplating retreat.

"Because they want to cut off the connection between the First Legion and Pentos," Viserys, who had been sitting at the head of the table studying the war game on the map and had not spoken until now, suddenly said.

He pinched his brow slightly.

Many people said the Dothraki were fools, but were they really all fools?

He didn't believe it.

A long time ago, Drogo died at his hands simply because he underestimated him, and he set a fire that killed him.

However, the Dothraki's bravery and fearlessness left a deep impression on Viserys.

These roaring Dothraki warriors were born cavalrymen. No race could compare to them in terms of horse mastery and cavalry strategy and tactics.

The only drawback of the Dothraki was also their strength: they were too dependent on horses, so much so that they were willing to give up armor and infantry.

If the Dothraki were willing to don armor, combine infantry and cavalry, and build siege weapons, coupled with their valor and fearlessness, the entire continent of Essos would fall at their feet.

Viserys had even envied these Dothraki cavalrymen at one point.

But after defeating Drogo and capturing some Dothraki, they refused to submit to Viserys and preferred to be sold as slaves.

Perhaps they still believed that Viserys had defeated Khal Drogo, the greatest horse warrior in the world, by relying on despicable blood magic.

Viserys had regretted it at the time.

"Cut off the connection?"

Upon hearing the king's words, all the commanders of the Pentos guard began whispering among themselves.

Jon, still standing in front of the map, turned to look at Viserys. Their eyes met, and then he nodded.

"His Majesty... is correct."

"The Dothraki want to cut off the connection between Pentos and the First Legion."

The Dothraki, as a nomadic people, were not skilled at siege warfare.

However, the reason why the Dothraki were unstoppable in siege warfare, becoming destroyers of civilizations and demolishing city after city, was because they had perfected a tactic ingrained in their souls: they exploited their mobility on horseback and their advantage in field battles against infantry.

They could destroy the villages around a city, take their food, and drive these displaced people towards the city they were besieging.

For a city besieged by the Dothraki, accepting these refugees meant consuming food, while slaughtering them would deplete the city's resources and morale.

Many cities besieged by the Dothraki faced this difficult choice.

It was like a prey bitten by a wolf at the throat, eventually exhausting all its strength in the struggle.

Chapter 257: Pirates

However, the Dothraki certainly had more than one tactic to deal with city walls.

Their strategies had become muscle memory, even if their Khal was a simple-minded fellow, he would know what to do.

"First, they cut off our connection with Castle Valor, creating panic," Jon Connington began to explain.

"Pentos won't know the situation at Castle Valor, and Castle Valor won't know what's happening in Pentos."

"As long as we don't dare to fight outside the city and keep hiding behind the city walls, it's hard to communicate with the outside world."

Fortunately, Pentos was adjacent to the sea, so the Dothraki's blockade was not complete.

Even if the war was unfavorable, Viserys would not be in danger of his life. The defenders and commanders of Pentos could escape by boat, not to mention the dragons.

Of course, this was an extreme situation. Perhaps the Dothraki were also thinking along these lines. If they could scare off the enemy without losing a single soldier, they wouldn't want to fight a hard battle.

Jon paused slightly, then continued.

"Block all news, every day when you open your eyes, the city is surrounded by Dothraki, even a raven can't fly out."

"In such a situation, anxiety and worry breed. If one side can't bear it and wants to fight out of the city to rescue the other side, it falls right into the Dothraki's trap."

The Dothraki were able to intimidate the continent of Essos with their unparalleled mobility and combat power in field battles.

If the Unsullied hadn't fought with their backs to the city walls in the past, perhaps the outcome of that legendary war would have been uncertain.

"The Dothraki are too good at... playing with the psychology of their prey. They understand what people fear," Jon Connington finally sighed.

"So we just need to remember one thing, no matter what, don't fight the Dothraki outside the city."

Although the Dothraki were said to be simple-minded, they were very good at psychological warfare, including the Roaring Warriors.

They were constantly making noise to intimidate their prey, eventually leading to a collapse in morale.

Perhaps this was a tactic they learned from the wolf pack.

When Jon's words fell, the meeting room was silent. Everyone looked at each other, then Dick Straw couldn't help but ask.

"Lord Connington, do you mean... we can defeat the Dothraki just by holding out in the city?"

After Dick finished speaking, all eyes fell on the man with grey-red hair.

Now they all knew his identity, knew that Jon was an experienced and excellent commander.

Jon Connington coughed lightly in response to this question, then turned to look at Viserys.

And Viserys was still looking down at the map, not sure if he noticed Jon's gaze, he shook his head slightly.

Jon Connington immediately understood, then sighed and nodded.

"Yes."

"Correct."

"So everyone just needs to hold out in the city, don't go out without permission, and you will definitely defeat the Dothraki."

...

Actually, Jon Connington and Viserys certainly didn't tell the truth at the daytime war meeting.

If the Dothraki had no way to deal with them just by hiding in the city, they would probably underestimate these destroyers of civilization.

Since the Dothraki came out of the Mother Mountain, they have destroyed countless cities and civilizations.

They used their low level of civilization to destroy more advanced civilizations through barbarism.

Although Viserys had commissioned Jon to start coordinating war supplies from a very early time.

However, the population of Pentos was too
large after all. These hundreds of thousands of people in the city would consume an unknown amount of food and fodder in a day.

Fortunately, Pentos is a city near the sea, and the Dothraki cannot block their water surface.

But...

The Braavosi can.

Outside the bay of Pentos, some Braavosi fleets have appeared.

They have taken off their flags and openly disguised themselves as pirates, robbing some merchant ships that want to sail into Pentos without any background.

Now.

The night is deep.

Viserys is clad in bright armor, his silver-gold hair shimmering in the moonlight, hanging on the cold armor.

At this moment, he is standing in the palace's training ground, arranging his armor, while still thinking carefully in his mind.

Stockpile supplies, clear the fields.

Jon has done everything he can, but the Dothraki still have ample supplies.

Anyone who has the power to summon five Dothraki horse kings and supply such a large army, the person standing behind the Dothraki is of course clear at a glance.

Of course, it's not to say that the Dothraki are the dogs of the Braavosi, but they have stirred these people together to make them enemies of Viserys.

"Braavos."

Viserys took a deep breath, clenched his fist slightly, the steel glove reflected the moonlight, and the knuckles made a sound.

Undermining in secret, sending assassins, Viserys and Braavos have long been at odds. When he gets free, he will make these arrogant Braavosi pay in blood.

At this time.

"Roar—"

Under the dim moonlight.

A huge figure descended from the sky, making a low roar.

Balerion, who was resting outside the city of Pentos, received Viserys's summons, flew to the city of Pentos, and landed in the spacious training ground of the palace.

Jon Connington is now on the city wall, stepping up defenses overnight to prevent the Dothraki from launching a surprise attack under the cover of night.

Just as the daytime policy specified, everyone else must hold out in the city, taking advantage of the city walls to resist the enemy's attack.

However, Viserys and Jon both knew that the Dothraki could not be defeated by holding out alone.

And if the siege lasts too long, the ten thousand Andal soldiers in Castle Valor might be in danger, which is something Viserys can't accept.

Even knowing that the other side is planning to encircle and fight for aid, they can't help but fall into the trap.

So.

The best solution is definitely to seize the opportunity to crush the Dothraki's main force in Pentos and stabilize the victory in one battle.

In this way, the siege of Castle Valor will naturally be resolved.

This time he is fully prepared, a big net is gradually opening, he wants to swallow all these fifty thousand Dothraki in one gulp.

Then.

Viserys mounted Balerion's back, the black dragon let out a roar, its legs exerted force, and its wings spread to the sky.

Whoosh—

Under the dim moonlight.

Balerion's huge figure quickly disappeared into the clouds.

Chapter 258: Facing Death Bravely

Two afternoons later.

The city gates of Pentos were overwhelmed with refugees, most of whom had been driven here by the Dothraki.

Their homes had been destroyed, their wealth plundered, and they were forced to flee their homes. Under the Dothraki's drive, they fled towards Pentos like pigs being herded.

Many who couldn't run fast enough fell under the Dothraki's arrows and arakhs, followed by laughter and incomprehensible Dothraki language.

"Qora mae!"

Then, a woman was pulled from the refugees and hoisted onto a horse, which galloped away after a slap on its rump.

"Hey..."

"You..."

The woman's husband, who appeared to be a simple farmer, seemed to want to reclaim his wife.

However, before he could rush over, his throat was slit by two other Dothraki.

Splurt—

Blood sprayed out.

The husband, clutching his throat, watched helplessly as his wife was taken away, then fell into a pool of blood.

Such incidents were still happening across the land.

These Roaring Warriors seemed to be playing a game of murder, their pace leisurely.

Riding their horses at a leisurely pace, they could drive hundreds of unarmed refugees towards Pentos.

From time to time, they would gallop forward to kill a few 'sheep people' who were running slowly, or draw their bows and use the people who were helping each other with their families as live targets. However, these people didn't even have the courage to fight back.

Now, the Dothraki army has arrived, and a large number of people from towns near Pentos have been driven here.

This is one of the Dothraki's tactics. If Pentos refuses to accept these refugees, it will lose morale, but if they accept them, they will have to consume their own food supplies.

However, the Dothraki army is not far from here, and the desolate and melodious sound of horns can be heard from afar.

But Viserys still withstood the pressure, opened the city gates, and let these pitiful refugees escape into the city of Pentos.

The Dothraki who drove the refugees stopped their horses not far from the city gate.

They laughed at the crowded refugees at the city gate and taunted the Targaryen soldiers on the city wall.

They dismounted and urinated towards the city wall, forcing them to watch as they drew their bows and shot the refugees running towards the city gate.

The Targaryen soldiers on the city wall of Pentos, including the former Windblown mercenaries, clenched their fists at this sight.

"Damn it! These bastards!"

"I'm going to slaughter them!"

Will from the forest clenched his long sword, looking at the scene in front of him, feeling as if his blood was rushing to his head, wishing he could rush down and kill these damn bastards right now.

However, at this moment.

Boom—

The side gate next to the main gate of Pentos, the Sunrise Gate, swung open, and a group of fully armed Targaryen knights charged out.

The Dothraki who drove the refugees had no preparation at all and suddenly faced the Targaryen cavalry head-on.

Perhaps they didn't expect these iron cans hiding in stone houses to dare to charge out at this time.

The Dothraki army is behind them, and it's not far from Pentos now.

"Shori tawakof!"

The Dothraki who drove the refugees exclaimed, which means 'people in iron clothes' in Dothraki.

However, although they were somewhat caught off guard, they were not afraid
at all.

Far from running away, they drew their arakhs and roared as they charged forward.

Boom—

In an instant.

The two sides' cavalry collided violently, making a huge noise. Metal clashed, flesh was crushed, and there were also shrill screams.

"Kill all these bastards!"

Jon Connington, clad in bright armor, helmet on his head, and a long sword in his hand, led the Targaryen knights into the enemy line, killing several Dothraki in succession.

Clang, clang, clang—

The violent collision of metal mixed with flying flesh and blood.

Although the Dothraki are skilled riders, they still suffered a lot in the head-on collision of the cavalry. After all, the first priority of cavalry combat is speed.

The Targaryen knights came with great momentum, while the Dothraki Roaring Warriors held their horses in place, only drawing their swords to meet them when they saw someone charging out.

However, they instantly fell behind in terms of speed and impact.

Moreover, the Dothraki did not have an advantage in terms of weapons and equipment. Their arakhs could hardly break through the plate armor worn by the Targaryen soldiers, and even a slash would only leave a white mark.

Then they were cut down by the Targaryen soldiers, who held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, and were instantly trampled into a pulp by the chaotic hooves.

Neigh—

The warhorse let out a neigh.

"Nakhi!"

"Os!"

Just as the two sides began to fight.

The Dothraki lines instantly echoed with calls of 'ceasefire' and 'retreat'.

The Dothraki may be reckless, but they're not fools. These iron cans are indeed difficult to deal with.

But not everyone in the Targaryen army has the privilege of wearing such iron cans.

The Dothraki this time were quite disciplined, and with the call to retreat, they withdrew like a tide towards the main force in the distance.

Jon Connington, who had just been in combat for a short time and was already covered in blood, took a couple of deep breaths, wiped the blood off his face, and watched the Dothraki retreat into the distance without pursuing them.

Instead, he signaled.

"Retreat!"

"Let's go, back to the city!"

Clip-clop...

Then, the Targaryen knights who had covered the refugees' retreat turned their horses around and retreated into the city of Pentos.

And at this moment.

In the distance.

Whoo—

The desolate sound of horns suddenly rang out, like a continuous wave.

Boom—

Then, an endless sea of Dothraki appeared in the eyes of the Targaryen soldiers on the city wall.

At the same time.

Toot—

The horns on the city wall of Pentos also sounded, along with the ringing of bells, warning the entire city.

"Close the city gates!"

The commander on the city wall issued the order.

"Close the city gates!"

The soldiers in charge of the city gates began to pull the ropes, the winch made a creaking noise, and the city gates were slowly closing.

The refugees who hadn't had time to enter the city rushed towards the city gate as if they were mad.

Jon Connington and his knights who had been covering the refugees were even blocked at the end.

They could only watch helplessly as the Dothraki, like a wave sweeping over, gradually approached from the distance.

"Roar!"

The earth trembled under the hooves, and a deafening roar rang out.

Jon felt as if he could already smell the nauseating odor of the Dothraki.

"Damn it!"

The man with ash-red hair gritted his teeth slightly, drawing his blood-stained sword once more.

"Brothers!"

"Turn your horses!"

"Prepare to meet the enemy!" Jon Connington shouted loudly.

Whoosh—

All the Targaryen knights who had left the city turned their horses around, presenting a knightly demeanor of facing death bravely.

However, before Jon could shout his final words to protect the retreating civilians, he suddenly felt the sky above him darken.

Whoosh~

A fierce wind howled, dust flew, and Jon was somewhat disheveled.

"What is..."

The next second.

A huge shadow spread its wings and swept over the knights' heads, diving straight towards the Dothraki army in the distance.

Chapter 259: Dragonfire

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...

Viserys rode atop the dragon, the howling wind on both sides pouring into his ears.

He was clad in bright silver armor, helmet on his head, his silver-gold hair dancing wildly in the wind.

His hands tightly gripped the scales on the dragon's back, leaning slightly to the side, his pale purple eyes overlooking the endless Dothraki below.

The Dothraki below, who were in the midst of a charge, also raised their heads to look at the sudden appearance of this enormous creature.

Boom, boom, boom—

A huge shadow loomed over the ground, rapidly approaching.

The flapping of its wings stirred up a whirlwind of dust, bringing with it an unparalleled sense of oppression from its proximity to the ground.

"Roar—"

Balerion opened its massive mouth, letting out a low roar that echoed across the entire battlefield.

"What is..."

All the Dothraki at the forefront of the charge suddenly panicked. After all, this was a terrifying creature they had never seen before.

While the Dothraki are fearless in the face of death, believing that they will become stars in the sky after death, they are also extremely superstitious, categorizing anything they don't understand as a miracle.

Just like when Viserys' fire was considered by the Dothraki to be the result of a witch's despicable blood magic.

"Jin!"

"Voijor!"

The Dothraki instantly descended into chaos, their charging formation becoming loose.

All the Dothraki were trying hard to control their warhorses, shouting words that seemed to mean 'god', but were somewhat unclear.

Their mounts were clearly frightened, letting out sporadic neighs.

This sudden appearance of a massive creature was far more terrifying than a tiger, triggering the innate fear of the horses as living creatures.

The Dothraki Roaring Warriors shouted loudly, controlling their mounts to prevent them from scattering and fleeing.

Meanwhile, Viserys, riding atop the dragon, his hair fluttering in the wind, stared intently at the Dothraki below, who were in a bit of a mess.

Then he took a deep breath and spoke in a cold, low voice in High Valyrian.

"Dracarys!"

Dragonfire—

The next second.

Boom—

A dazzling pillar of red fire descended from the sky, striking the ground.

It immediately engulfed the Dothraki who were in chaos trying to control their frightened horses.

The firelight instantly rose into the sky over this open plain.

The piercing screams and the sound of flesh and fat being burned crackled, countless Dothraki were instantly turned to ashes under the scorching dragonfire.

And many more Dothraki who were affected by the pillar of fire hitting the ground were covered in flames, letting out shrill screams.

Their warhorses had long been out of control, their bodies aflame, they ran around like mad, causing even more chaos among the frightened Dothraki.

Wails, screams, the sound of flesh being burned through, and obscure curses, accompanied by the smell of roasted meat, spread rapidly into the distance.

Whoosh...

Balerion spread its wings, its dragonfire splitting the earth, plowing a deep trench in the sea of Dothraki.

...

"What is..."

And in the distance.

Surrounded by the Bloodriders, the three Khals felt a chill run down their spines at this sight.

"Is this Viserys' dragon?"

They lived in the east of the continent, and although they had heard that the Dragon Kings of Valyria once ruled this continent.

They later heard that beyond the distant Norvos mountains, a 'Khal

' from across the Narrow Sea had hatched the extinct dragons.

However, the Dothraki Horse Lords didn't pay much attention to this rumored dragon. When the Valyrian dragons were rampant, the ancestors of the Dothraki were still cowering in their homeland, living as savages.

The Dothraki's memory and heritage did not contain much about dragons, and even if that wandering 'Khal' possessed the legendary dragon, how big could it grow in just a few years?

Including Jhogo Khal and Pono Khal, who had some history with Viserys but whom Viserys didn't actually know by name, they exchanged glances.

Then.

A deep, vast roar came from above them.

The three Khals, mixed in the crowd of Dothraki, were not very conspicuous.

They all looked up at the huge figure above them, watching it circle above the Dothraki army, occasionally spewing large amounts of dragonfire onto the ground.

Many Dothraki warriors were engulfed in the raging flames, both man and horse letting out shrill screams before falling in the fire.

Viserys, riding on the back of the dragon, gripped the scales tightly, feeling the howling wind in his ears.

This was his first time riding Balerion into battle, having no previous experience.

Viserys suddenly felt that he should find an opportunity to make a suitable harness for Balerion, which would make riding more convenient.

Indeed, practice is the only way to true knowledge.

However, the thought in his mind was fleeting, as he was now in the sky looking for the location of the three Khals in the Dothraki army.

Viserys had fully learned from his previous victory over Drogo Khal, to deal with the Dothraki, one must capture the king first.

If a Khal in the Dothraki army were to die, the entire khalasar would collapse instantly, falling into a state of fragmentation.

The remaining khas would lead their people off the battlefield, saving their strength for the upcoming struggle for the position of Khal.

But unfortunately...

Viserys squinted his eyes, trying hard to distinguish the Dothraki below, who were as dense as the sea.

They were mixed together, most of them wearing painted animal skin vests and horsehair leggings, and the Khals would not wear more special clothes, only their braids might be very long.

But from such a high distance, coupled with Balerion's flying speed, it was hard for Viserys to tell which one was their Khal.

"Balerion, have you found their leader?"

The howling wind made his silver-gold hair dance wildly, Viserys asked, gripping the scales tightly.

"Roar—"

However, Balerion circled in mid-air, then lowered its altitude and spewed out a swath of red fire, letting out a roar.

It too had not found the leader of these little ants.

And on the ground below.

Whoosh~

Balerion's massive figure swept over the heads of the three Dothraki Horse Lords, its heavy breathing sounding like thunder.

Boom, boom, boom—

Then a huge rumbling sound vibrated, and a sea of fire descended behind them.

Chapter 260: Dragon Slayer

The three Khals had learned their lesson. They knew Viserys was looking for them, so they hid in the crowd, not revealing any flaws, successfully evading Viserys's gaze.

Then they watched as a dazzling pillar of fire descended from the sky behind them, cold sweat sliding down their foreheads.

Although the Dothraki are fearless in the face of death, that's a sentiment used to rally the tribes. As Khals, they hoped to live another day.

"Is this a dragon? It's more like a devil!"

"Dothraki warriors are brave, but how can we fight such a devil?"

Jhogo Khal, who had crawled out from under a horse's belly, and some others who were still frightened, couldn't help but voice their thoughts.

When the terrifying creature swooped down, he could even smell the pungent sulfur scent from it.

He truly thought he was going to die.

Fortunately, the dragon did not breathe fire over their heads.

Jhogo Khal voiced the thoughts of everyone present, even Pono Khal, who was usually at odds with him, agreed with his viewpoint.

This battle simply couldn't continue.

The Dothraki's warhorses, although well-trained, would still be frightened by beasts like tigers and leopards. This was an animal's instinctive reaction.

Facing a terrifying dragon, unless the horses were familiar with it, they would be even harder to control.

Most of the Dothraki's strength was on horseback. If their warhorses were ineffective against the dragon, the threat of the Dothraki would be greatly reduced.

"Honored Horse Lords,"

At this moment, a man with neatly trimmed short hair and wearing a simple gray robe, who was standing beside the three Horse Lords, spoke in High Valyrian.

He had also been terrified by the dragon's swooping figure. He thought he was about to die.

He even saw the dragon rider on the dragon's back.

But now he couldn't recognize the figure.

The boy who had arrived in Braavos eight years ago seemed calm on the surface, but his eyes betrayed his underlying panic.

Trembling, walking on thin ice.

But now.

Viserys was riding on the back of the dragon, alone, swooping down towards the thousands of soldiers. The dragonfire scorched the earth, causing the Dothraki Horse Lords, known for their bravery, to hide under their horses.

Cleon looked up at the sky, watching the dragon's receding figure, and sighed slightly.

He was the city official of Braavos who had welcomed Viserys off the ship eight years ago.

Then Cleon turned his gaze back to the three Dothraki Horse Lords and their Bloodriders.

"Honored Dothraki Horse Lords,"

"Do you remember the weapons Braavos gave you to fight the dragon?"

"Now is the time to use them!"

The Dothraki do not produce anything, and the siege weapons they make are simply unbearable to look at, crude and rough. Therefore, Braavos gave them weapons to fight the dragon, a giant crossbow that could be called a 'Dragon Slayer'.

However, due to accuracy issues, it's not easy for a giant crossbow to hit a fast-flying dragon.

And with the dragon's size, unless it directly hits a vital spot like the eye, it can withstand a few hits.

Braavos mainly hoped to use the giant crossbow to limit the black dragon under Viserys's command, at least it wouldn't be so reckless.

But even though they were poor and had nothing, the proud Dothraki didn't want to use these weapons.

They believed that Dothraki warriors could defeat any enemy.

Although they eventually accepted these giant crossbows, they had no plans to use them. They simply had them dragged along by horses at the rear of the army, along with the supply wagons.

Now, the words of Cleon, the envoy from Braavos, were translated into Dothraki for the Khals to hear.

Then these Khals looked at each other, remembering that the people of Braavos seemed to have given them weapons to fight dragons.

Jhogo Khal and Pono Khal, with their long braids, looked at each other, feeling a bit embarrassed.

The white-haired Morsa Khal, however, pondered for a moment, then spoke in Dothraki.

"Do as the envoy from Braavos says."

The old Khal, having lived so many years, had long understood some truths. He didn't care about so-called face, and with a wave of his hand, he ordered,

"Bring out those giant crossbows!"

"Yes, my blood of my blood."

At Morsa Khal's command, his Bloodriders stepped forward, mounted their horses, and rode off towards the rear where the giant crossbows were stored, ignoring the dragonfire that had not yet extinguished behind them.

However, the Bloodriders of Jhogo Khal and Pono Khal did not move an inch, just watching coldly.

Although the three khalasars had formed an alliance and launched a joint attack on Pentos, these Dothraki, who usually fought each other, could not put aside all their grudges overnight.

They only listened to their own Khal, and if their Khal did not speak, they would not move a step.

In the sky, the wild wind was still howling.

Viserys sat on the dragon's back, ducking down to avoid the arrow rain from below. The Dothraki, after getting over their initial terror, gradually began to retaliate under the command of their Khals.

The Dothraki are skilled with curved swords, short bows, and long whips. The short bow, a recurve bow made of bent animal horns, wood, or bones, is particularly favored by the Dothraki and the Dornish. They can easily rain deadly arrows on their enemies from horseback, rather than aiming at individual targets.

Thud, thud, thud—

The sound of bowstrings being released was continuous, like raindrops hitting the ground.

A rain of arrows shot towards Balerion as he swooped down, but the dragon's hard scales could block these ordinary arrows.

Clang, clang, clang.

The arrows fired by the Dothraki fell onto Balerion's scales, making a sound like metal colliding, and fell to the ground.

At this moment.

Boom!

A sudden loud sound of a bowstring being released, overshadowing the sound of other bowstrings.

A spear, two meters long, was shot out, making a sharp sound as it tore through the air, flying straight towards Balerion in the sky.

"Roar—"

The black dragon's eyes were sharp, and its intelligence high.

It saw the threatening spear at a glance, and let out a low roar, slightly turning its head in mid-air.

Whoosh—

The spear fired by the giant crossbow flew past Balerion's head by a dozen meters and shot straight into the sky.

"Giant crossbow."

Viserys, lying on the dragon's back, felt a slight sinking feeling in his heart at this sight.

Although the accuracy of the giant crossbow was extremely low, it could indeed pose a threat to the dragon.

"Balerion!"Viserys called out in a low voice.

And Balerion, as if provoked, let out a stream of dragonfire towards the location where the giant crossbow had been fired.

Boom—

The fire once again swept across the land.

The Braavosi soldiers who had fired the giant crossbow let out a piercing scream.

Chapter 261: Return

Balerion vented his fury in a torrent of flame, engulfing several giant crossbows on the ground.

Whoosh—

Whoosh—

Several more spears were launched into the air, but their trajectories were wildly off.

Then, at Viserys' command, the black dragon roared, gained altitude, spread its wings, and flew back towards distant Pentos.

Huff...

Huff...

Under the afternoon sun, the dragon's massive figure gradually receded, its scales reflecting a metallic glow.

The chaotic Dothraki on the ground finally began to stabilize somewhat, but they still shot a few spears in a venting manner at the retreating figure of the black dragon.

However, Balerion had already flown to a great height. The spears launched by the giant crossbows lost their momentum halfway through the air and fell back to the ground.

On the battlefield, the Dothraki warriors controlled their mounts, stroked their manes with their hands, embraced their horses' necks, and calmed their companions' tense emotions.

Every Dothraki's best friend is his warhorse.

"He's finally retreated."

The three Khals hiding among their people breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the terrifying dragon spread its wings and fly away.

It had been a close call. If the Khal riding the dragon had spotted them, or if they had been unlucky and the fire from the sky had fallen on their heads, they would have been dead.

This time, the Dothraki, united with five Khals and eighty thousand roaring warriors, had become a laughingstock. After all, the first battle had seen three Khals burned to death by the dragon-riding Khal.

However, luckily, none of this happened.

"It seems that those 'dragon killers' are effective."

Although the giant crossbows had not hit their mark, the rampaging dragon had retreated, which proved their effectiveness.

The three Khals breathed a sigh of relief, and their hearts were slightly uplifted.

As long as there were things that this terrifying creature feared, they felt better. Otherwise, they really didn't know how to continue this battle.

On the other side...

The young king personally rode the dragon into battle, single-handedly stopping the aggressive Dothraki attack. The grand spectacle of the burning plains stirred people's hearts.

"Ohhh!!"

Deafening cheers came from the walls of Pentos.

The morale of the Pentos garrison soared instantly. Having a dragon to fight alongside was a great boost to morale.

Half a year ago, on the night of blood, many of the current Pentos garrison had experienced that war.

But at that time, some of them were the surrendered garrison, and some were mercenaries who had not directly participated in the battle of the prince's palace, so they did not have a direct impression of the power of the dragon.

But now...

Including the crowded refugees outside the city of Pentos, they had all witnessed this scene.

Their homes had been destroyed by the Dothraki, their families slaughtered, their wealth plundered. Now, seeing this scene, they couldn't help but shed tears of joy.

Jon Connington, leading the cavalry out of the city to cover the refugees, also saw this scene.

The man with grey-red hair took off his helmet and held it in his arms. His face still had traces of blood that hadn't been wiped clean.

He took a deep breath, turned his head to look at the dragon returning to Pentos in the sky, and then took a deep breath.

"Into the city!"

Thump, thump, thump...

Then he spurred his warhorse, the sound of hooves rang out, leading the cavalry who had gone out to cover the refugees back into the city.

"Close the city gates!"

"Close the city gates!"

The commander on the city wall also issued the order at this time.

Creak—

The soldiers then pulled on the ropes, the winch made a teeth-grinding sound, and the massive city gates closed with a thunderous noise.

With the closing of the city gates, the entire massive city-state was completely sealed off, becoming as impregnable as a fortress.

Huff~

And Viserys, riding Balerion, also landed in a wide open space in the city of Pentos, large enough to accommodate a dragon.

Boom—

The dragon landed with a heavy sound, stirring up dust that slowly dispersed. Balerion stretched his neck slightly, letting out a low roar.

"Well done."

Viserys gently patted Balerion's neck, then stood up on the back of the black dragon. Under the sunlight, his armor reflected a bright light, and his long hair was freely spread out.

Then, from the back of the black dragon, he jumped down along the wide wings.

Thump.

"Your Majesty."

At this time, a guard came forward to take the helmet that Viserys had taken off.

"Mm."

Viserys nodded, then walked towards the direction of the city wall, speaking as he walked.

"Prepare more food for Balerion, let him rest well."

Balerion had exerted a lot of effort just now, and Viserys naturally couldn't neglect his partner.

Whether they could face an enemy two or three times their size and defeat them mainly depended on Balerion's performance.

"Understood, Your Majesty."

The guard following Viserys quickly nodded in agreement, then ordered the logistics supply to bring two cows to 'Lord' Balerion.

Thump, thump...

And Viserys hurriedly climbed onto the city wall.

The soldiers on both sides of the path cast fervent glances at him. They had just witnessed the scene of the king riding a dragon and turning the tide.

In their minds, Viserys was now like a god-like figure.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

Viserys nodded slightly in response.

At this time, Jon Connington had also climbed onto the city wall, having removed his blood-stained armor.

He was leaning on the battlements, looking at the distant Dothraki, and only turned around when he heard the movement behind him, seeing Viserys approaching.

"Your Majesty." The man with grey-red hair nodded in salute, and Viserys came to his side and looked out into the distance.

After the baptism of dragon fire, the arrogant Dothraki had been largely extinguished, their morale now much lower, and it seemed they no longer planned to attack Pentos today.

Instead, they slowly retreated like a receding tide, preparing to set up camp, dig pits, and cook.

"Jon."

"What do you think are the chances of us going out of the city to pursue and defeat the Dothraki now?"

Watching the Dothraki retreat in the distance, Viserys was silent for a moment, then turned his head and suddenly asked.

"No!"

"Your Majesty!"

Jon, whose mind was on other things, was startled by Viserys' words and quickly spoke up to stop him.

He knew that Viserys had once defeated the Dothraki in an open field and was quite confident.

However, the situation in Pentos now was different from then.

There were still many major problems to be addressed.

Chapter 262: Siege

The defenders of Pentos now consisted of several groups.

One part was the former Pentos garrison soldiers who had heard that all the magisters had been burned to death and had surrendered.

Another part was the mercenaries of the Windblown.

The Windblown mercenaries were decent fighters individually, but their discipline was poor. Even after Jon's training, there wasn't enough time to break their old habits.

The former garrison soldiers were in a similar situation. They were all seasoned soldiers, skilled in taking bribes and shirking duties, but they couldn't bring out strong combat power in a real battle.

Moreover, due to the impending war, Pentos had temporarily hired many mercenaries and wandering knights.

The combined combat power of these people could be described as 'elite', gathering talents from all sides.

If they really took these people out of the city to chase and kill the Dothraki... it would probably be like throwing meat buns at a dog, a one-way trip.

"Your Majesty, we only need to hold the city walls to stop the Dothraki."

"There's no need to take this risk."

Jon Connington quickly dissuaded, dispelling Viserys' bold idea.

Although the dragon's deterrent power was strong, the main body of the war was still the army and soldiers. The dragon was just a heavyweight factor affecting the outcome of the war.

Jon had advised Viserys on this point from the first time he saw him. As a king, he should prioritize his people and his soldiers.

Aegon's conquest of Westeros was not solely dependent on dragons. He feared that Viserys, having achieved fame at a young age, would become overconfident and overly reliant on dragons to solve problems.

He might ultimately become a person like his father, the Mad King, overly obsessed with power, trying to maintain his rule by creating fear.

Fortunately for Jon, Viserys did not seem to be such a tyrant at the moment.

If all the soldiers of Pentos died, Viserys and a dragon alone could not hold such a large city-state. In the end, he would just ride the dragon and abandon the city.

Viserys, stopped by Jon, smiled and shook his head slightly.

He also understood that the soldiers of Pentos were not Unsullied, nor were they the elite Andal warriors he had once led.

Such fragile soldiers could not fight the Dothraki in the field. Losing the protection of the city walls would be a disaster for these people.

"Mm, I understand."

Viserys nodded slightly.

He then looked at the Dothraki setting up camp in the distance. It seemed that the Dothraki did not plan to attack the city today.

He also lost interest in watching further.

Then the young king turned and walked down the city wall.

...

The eighty thousand Dothraki were divided on the great plains. The main force was three Khals leading fifty thousand roaring warriors to attack Pentos.

On the other side were over thirty thousand Dothraki led by Khal Jhaqo and Khal Moro.

They wanted to break through the Castle of the Warrior's Spirit, and then advance north to threaten Andalos.

These Dothraki attacking the Castle of the Warrior's Spirit encountered their enemies earlier than the main force.

The earliest clash was on the banks of the Rhoyne.

A scattered patrol of the First Legion cavalry and the Dothraki engaged in fierce combat. Both sides lost some soldiers and then retreated.

Upon receiving the news of the Dothraki's approach, the commander of the Legion, Bessie Joyce, also ordered a contraction of the defensive line. Ten thousand Andal warriors returned to their camp, climbed onto the city walls and fortifications, ready to defend against the Dothraki attack.

The Castle of the Warrior's Spirit is still a half-finished castle, with most of the soldiers stationed in semi-permanent camps.

Therefore, they were virtually field fighting with the Dothraki, under tremendous pressure. Bessie, being cautious, retreated first, showing weakness to the enemy.

Fortunately, the First Legion was composed of elite Andal warriors who had followed Viserys from the beginning. They had defeated Khal Drogo's forces before and were not afraid of the Dothraki.

Unlike the Pentos garrison, they were one of the few forces that could engage the Dothraki in the field.

However, this time the Dothraki army was much larger than theirs, forcing them to switch to defense.

A man in full armor wearing a metal mask climbed onto the city wall.

"Commander."

"Commander."

The Andal soldiers on the towering city wall saw their commander and quickly made way, greeting him.

Bessie, holding onto the railing, walked with a slightly awkward gait.

He wore bright armor and a white battle robe. The morning sun shone on him, as if blessed by the light of the Seven. The seven-pointed star symbol on his mask added a touch of sanctity.

He was a son of the Warrior, blessed with courage and strength by the gods, and given the sacred duty to defeat enemies.

"May... the Warrior protect us."

Due to his physical discomfort, Bessie stood on the city wall with a somewhat crooked posture, then spoke in a hoarse, calm voice.

His dark eyes were bright, his breathing steady. He looked at the endless Dothraki below the castle and the refugees they drove, showing no signs of nervousness.

"May the Warrior protect us!"

The soldiers following Bessie Joyce, with the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem on their armor and a small seven-pointed star on their chests, also roared in unison.

It was clear that the Andal people on the Andalos plain had a fervent belief in the Seven.

This belief was also their motivation to resist the Dothraki attack.

"Rhaesh Andahli!"

This was the Dothraki term for Land of the Andals.

In the distance, riding on the tallest warhorse, Khal Jhaqo of the Dothraki drew his arakh, pointing it towards the distant Castle of the Warrior's Spirit and let out a roar.

"Kill them all!"

"Tear down their stone houses! Take their wealth! Rape their women!"

Behind the Castle of the Warrior's Spirit was the rich and peaceful Andalos plain.

The sacred Seven had once descended on this land, crowning the Andal king.

Immediately after, the endless Dothraki blew the horn of siege, driving the captured refugees towards the castle.

"Commander, what should we do?"

On the black castle wall, a soldier of the First Legion, seeing this scene, felt a bit of a chill, then turned his head to look at their commander.

These rushing refugees would impact their pre-arranged horse pits, trenches, and wooden caltrops.

Bessie's eyes under the mask narrowed slightly, and he took a deep breath.

"Tell them to stop advancing, hide under the city wall."

"What if they don't listen?"

The soldier asked.

Bessie looked at the soldier but didn't speak.

He then refused the guard's help and walked unsteadily towards the tower.

...

Time passed quickly.

Soon.

The first day of the siege ended.

The Dothraki left a field of bodies and slowly retreated like a receding tide.

Chapter 263: Negotiations

Under the remnants of the setting sun.

On the ramparts of the Castle of the Warrior's Spirit, soldiers were cleaning up the battlefield, throwing bodies off the walls, including those of their fallen comrades.

The space within the castle and the camp was limited, with no place to store or even burn the bodies.

After all, this was still a half-finished castle, coupled with a semi-permanent camp.

The ten thousand soldiers of the First Legion were stationed here, relying on the tall wooden walls of the castle and the camp, where supplies were stored.

Therefore, the besieged First Legion was in a far more dangerous situation than Pentos, as they had almost no geographical advantages to exploit.

The Dothraki focused their attacks on the camp area without wall protection, essentially engaging in a protracted battle of attack and defense on the plains with the Dothraki.

After a whole day of fighting, the camp of the Legion had been breached several times, but each time they had managed to hold off the attacks. Now they were cleaning up the battlefield and rushing to repair the damage.

Inside the command center of the Castle of the Warrior's Spirit.

The commanders of the First Legion of the Kingdom were gathered together. Bessie Joyce, the commander of the Legion who came from a common background, was still in full armor, wearing a metal mask, sitting in the central position.

On his chest was a golden sword and shield medal.

On either side of his seat were rows of knights in shining armor. They were all commanders in the Legion, wearing armor emblazoned with the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem, and on their chests was the seven-pointed star symbol representing the Seven.

One of the commanders couldn't help but speak up.

"Holding out won't defeat the Dothraki, Commander."

"And His Majesty is now besieged in Pentos, we can't even send out ravens."

In the past few days, several ravens sent out from the Castle of the Warrior's Spirit had been shot down by the Dothraki. Only one particularly agile one had managed to fly high and escape, but no news had come back yet.

"That's right."

Others also chimed in.

"I have a suggestion, Commander."

Another commander stood up.

He suggested going out of the city to fight, emulating the fire oil tactics used by His Majesty to burn the Dothraki.

Others put forward a variety of ideas, extending the battle line, forming shield formations, cavalry flanking maneuvers, charging to cut the battlefield, and so on.

It was clear that the grassroots commanders of the First Legion were much stronger than the defenders of Pentos. At least they had undergone regular military training and had been baptized by blood and fire.

However, Bessie, who was sitting in the first place, remained silent.

Ever since he had rushed into the sea of fire and been severely burned, he had become much more reticent.

When all the commanders had expressed their opinions, Bessie finally raised his head slightly and spoke in a hoarse, low voice.

"Gentlemen."

"Behind us is the Andalos plain, the homeland of our ancestors."

His gaze swept over all the faces around him, his voice emanating from beneath the metal mask.

"The reinforcements from Prince Oberyn will arrive soon."

"We won't continue to hold out."

"We need to deal with the enemy in front of us as soon as possible, and then go to Pentos to relieve His Majesty."

The commander's voice echoed in the meeting room.

He had decided not to hold out in the Castle of the Warrior's Spirit.

He understood that the Dothraki surrounding the castle were not their main force. The main force of the enemy must be besieging Pentos.

Although Bessie was very clear that the Dothraki were planning to besiege and relieve, he had once sworn to protect the safety of the king and not to betray Viserys' trust in him.

Therefore, Bessie first contracted the defense line, showing weakness to the enemy, causing the Dothraki to relax their vigilance.

Next, he planned to seize the moment when the enemy was lax, and defeat the enemy in front of him in one fell swoop.

When all the grassroots commanders of the Legion heard this, they were all shocked, knowing that the commander had decided to go out of the city and fight the Dothraki, who were several times their number.

However, they didn't feel fear, but rather their blood was boiling.

Then they all stood up in unison, pounding their chests with one hand.

"For the King!"

...

The continent of Essos was in turmoil.

All the Free Cities were focusing on the war that was breaking out on the Great Plains.

The ancient Valyrian road was even cut off, seriously affecting the trade routes to Norvos and Qohor.

You should know that the ancient trade route from Pentos to Norvos to Qohor has been maintained for many years and has become the economic lifeline of several inland cities.

And in distant Westeros.

At the end of the world.

King Robert, leading an alliance of all the major nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, had arrived at Winterfell long ago after two months of long journey.

Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, a pair of good brothers with no blood relation, finally met again.

Then they rushed to the Wall together.

Because there were accumulating more and more Free Folk there, and the conflict between the Free Folk and the Night's Watch was escalating.

The Night's Watch unexpectedly sent out a cavalry unit to wipe out a small tribe, killing all the people, regardless of men, women, old and young.

However, then a Northern army unit that was also out for cleanup was ambushed by the Free Folk.

The cruel Thenns even skinned and flayed these Northern army prisoners, put them on a barbecue rack, and ate them in a location visible from the Wall.

Both sides accumulated deep hatred through these exchanges.

However, in this tense situation.

The king of the Free Folk suddenly sent a messenger, they heard from the prisoners that the king of the south seemed to have come here, so they sent a messenger to negotiate with the king of the south.

The messenger identified himself and was admitted to Castle Black, where he met Robert Baratheon, the king of the south who had just arrived at the Wall.

The messenger didn't waste any words, he directly stated that the footsteps of the White Walkers were getting closer and closer behind them, the real winter had not yet come, but it was not far off.

The messenger from the Free Folk kingdom demanded that Robert must open the gates and let the Free Folk pass through the Wall, otherwise their people would die.

And Mance Rayder's messenger also said that they had found the legendary 'Horn of Winter' on the Fist of the First Men.

It is said that over a thousand years ago, the King Beyond the Wall, Joramun, blew the 'Horn of Winter' and woke the sleeping giants from the ground, and the 'Horn of Winter' would also cause the Wall to collapse if blown.

If the king of the Seven Kingdoms is not prepared to let hundreds of thousands of Free Folk pass through the Wall to the warm south for survival.

Then Mance Rayder is prepared to blow this artifact to make the Wall collapse, and let the Seven Kingdoms and hundreds of thousands of Free Folk perish together.

Chapter 264: The Horn of Winter

However, the Wildling envoy was not easily intimidated.

He seemed intent on intimidating the southern king. In the eyes of the Wildlings, these 'kneelers' living behind the Wall were soft, easily frightened by a bit of intimidation.

However, the Wildling envoy never expected to meet his match this time.

His threats did not instill fear in the rotund king before him, but instead enraged Robert Baratheon.

Perhaps this envoy had not inquired about the nature of his negotiation partner before coming to the Wall.

After all, King's Landing was too far away for them. To the Wildlings, everything south of the Wall was simply 'the South'.

"Before I decide to cut off your tongue and stuff it up your backside, you'd best get out of my sight!"

King Robert, who was not one to be pushed around, glared with his bell-like eyes and drove the envoy away.

He did not believe in the so-called Horn of Winter, which was said to bring down the grand Wall with a single blow.

However, although Robert was angry, he was not a cruel tyrant. If it had been Viserys, the envoy would probably have been burned alive by now.

He dismissed the Wildling envoy and instructed him to relay a message to the so-called King-Beyond-the-Wall.

"Tell that oathbreaker!"

Robert roared, his voice echoing in the council chamber.

"If you thieves and rapists living beyond the Wall wish to pass, you must kneel to the king of the Seven Kingdoms!"

"And pray to the Seven for forgiveness for your sins, then choose between the gallows and the black!"

King Robert, his beard bristling, roared. He knew that the Wildlings were lawless criminals.

They called themselves Free Folk, distinguishing themselves from the 'kneelers' south of the Wall who bowed to lords and kings. The Free Folk believed that the 'kneelers' lacked freedom.

But now, Robert intended to make them kneel.

Then, the bearded, rotund king picked up his wine cup and took a hearty drink, grunting before continuing.

"Of course."

"This applies to the common Wildlings."

"That oathbreaker... what's his name, Mance Rayder... he no longer has the chance to don the black. He must be sent to the gallows."

King Robert could forgive the other Wildlings, but that did not mean he could forgive the self-proclaimed 'King-Beyond-the-Wall'.

"Mance Rayder should be punished according to the rules of the Night's Watch."

"Your Grace."

At this point.

Eddard Stark, seated nearby, spoke up. His dark hair and grey eyes serious as he said,

"I will hold a fair trial for him and hear his reasons."

Eddard Stark was a man of honor and justice. He would listen to Mance Rayder's reasons for betraying the Night's Watch.

Then he would personally use his ancestral Valyrian steel sword, 'Ice', to behead the 'King-Beyond-the-Wall'.

The Wildling envoy was then driven out of the Black Castle.

...

After the Wildling envoy was driven away, the Night's Watch and the supporting forces from the North and other regions were busy fortifying their defenses.

They had initially thought that the Wildlings would be enraged and attack, but they waited and waited without any news.

Where was the Horn of Winter that could bring down the Wall?

Where were the hundreds of thousands of Wildlings?

The Wall, three hundred miles long and seven hundred feet high, gave the allied forces and the Night's Watch ample confidence.

Everyone was much more relaxed. In their view, no one could breach such a formidable Wall, not hundreds of thousands of Wildlings, not even the so-called White Walkers.

Then, the news of the failed negotiation was brought back to the Haunted Forest by the envoy. The arrogant words of the southern king caused an uproar among all the Wildling tribal leaders.

They refused to kneel to the so-called king for the sake of their freedom. Mance Rayder had united hundreds of tribes, putting an end to the infighting among the Wildlings.

Therefore, he had unparalleled prestige among these Free Folk, which led to his election as the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

They would never kneel to the southern king, and they would certainly not hand over their king to be beheaded by the southern lord.

Hundreds of tribal chiefs and leaders clamored to storm the Wall.

However, the mentioned protagonist, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder, remained very calm and did not show any signs of anger.

He stopped all the tribal chiefs from requesting battle, asking them to calm down.

Because he knew very well that with the support of the king and nobles behind the Wall, they could never breach the Wall.

However, Mance Rayder did not want to blow the Horn of Winter unless it was absolutely necessary.

If the Wall truly collapsed, then humanity would lose its only barrier against the White Walkers, and a catastrophic outcome could very likely follow.

However.

If the southern king was determined not to let the Free Folk through, then Mance Rayder had no other choice.

He had to be responsible for his people, and he did not want to be beheaded.

At that time, he would have to blow the Horn of Winter to bring down the Wall, and then lead his people out.

What happened to humanity afterwards would no longer be his concern.

Therefore.

In order to avoid a situation where everyone would be destroyed together, Mance Rayder suppressed his anger.

Then, he calmly sent another envoy to negotiate sincerely with King Robert.

The Free Folk kneeling to the southern king and handing over his own head were absolutely unacceptable conditions. These were Mance Rayder's bottom lines.

Then, the second negotiation envoy was brought into the Black Castle.

However, this time the Free Folk's envoy was much more humble. He did not start off by threatening to blow the Horn of Winter, causing the Wall to collapse and everyone to perish together.

Unfortunately, even though the Free Folk's envoy showed a sincere attitude this time, after the farce of the previous negotiation, King Robert no longer believed in the Horn of Winter.

In his view, if the other party truly had such a divine artifact, they would have blown the horn long ago, crushed the armies of the Seven Kingdoms, and directly invaded the North.

It was clear that the other party was trying to scare him, using something that didn't exist to deceive him into opening the gates and letting them into the territories of the Seven Kingdoms.

In fact, the conditions King Robert had previously stated were not just bluster, they were also his bottom line.

If possible, he would not want to leave hundreds of thousands of Wildlings outside the Wall, watching them be wiped out by the White Walkers.

However, if these hundreds of thousands of Wildlings were unwilling to submit to the king and the lords, unwilling to lay down their weapons and stop looting, unwilling to pick up farming tools and settle down to farm...

Then letting them inside the Wall would likely be a disaster.

Robert could not agree, and the North, which would be directly impacted by the Wildlings, could not agree even more.

Eddard Stark sat in his side seat, looking at the Wildling envoy below with an icy expression.

Chapter 265: The Allied Army

As the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch,

Jeor Mormont is now sitting in a more peripheral position, his seat having been taken by King Robert.

And now there are also two Lords and several earls present, but old Mormont, who was also the Lord of Bear Island before joining the Night's Watch, and now the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, still has a seat here.

He sits next to Eddard Stark, the former Lord of Winterfell, and across from him is Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Dragonstone, the younger brother of King Robert.

He is broad-shouldered, upright, his skin somewhat deepened due to long-term exposure to the sun, hard as iron.

Now, although Stannis is not very old, about the same age as Jon Connington, he seems a bit prematurely aged, with only a row of thin black hair left on his head, like the shadow of a crown.

His face is resolute, his eyes deep, his lips pale, thin and tight, sitting next to his elder brother Robert, watching the wildling envoy being driven away again, without a hint of a smile, his face showing a thoughtful expression.

"Dealing with these lawless wildlings should indeed be done with a high-pressure attitude, otherwise who knows what kind of chaos they will cause after they enter the Wall."

Stannis spoke in a stiff tone.

He, like Robert and Eddard, is extremely disgusted with these so-called 'Free Folk', because their freedom is built on the pain of others.

They do not engage in production, but prefer to plunder. They call this behavior 'freedom'? They even mock the honest people of the Seven Kingdoms who work hard to feed themselves and their families as 'kneelers'.

If it were up to Stannis, these people wouldn't even have the right to wear black. They should freeze to death in the cold beyond the Wall, or be killed by those terrifying White Walkers.

Although Robert and Stannis often disagree on many things, Stannis rarely argues with his elder brother on this matter.

But...

There's one more thing.

"This... Horn of Winter, is it really non-existent?"

Stannis raised his head and asked, he was a bit worried.

He heard the wildling envoy speak with certainty, and it seemed that there really was such a thing, he was a bit unsure.

"Hmph, why would Brandon the Builder, who built the Wall with great effort, leave behind such an artifact that can destroy the Wall?"

Robert, sitting in the main position, drank another sip of wine from his cup, his face flushed, waved his hand dismissively.

"If there really is such a thing, why didn't the wildlings blow it earlier? If the Wall collapsed, they wouldn't have to suffer in such a cold place."

Robert's words were reasonable.

And Stannis just shook his head when he heard it, he was just a little doubtful just now, now it seems that it might really be the wildlings trying to scare them in desperation.

But at this moment.

Sitting at the back of the meeting hall, Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch stood up shakily and spoke.

"The Horn of Winter... is not a non-existent thing."

"Lords and… Your Grace."

The old man has a few strands of disheveled white hair on his somewhat bald head, his eyes are blind and white, and his voice is hoarse.

Although Aemon is facing the enemy who wiped out his family, he can still remain calm, even calling the other party 'Your Grace'.

And Eddard Stark, sitting next to King Robert, looked up when he saw Maester Aemon suddenly speak, his eyes slightly focused.

He is one of the few who know the true identity of Maester Aemon, and although the once silver hair has now turned pale, Eddard doesn't worry that Robert would harm this nearly hundred-year-old man.

Robert... should... not be that kind of person.

After all, Maester Aemon is Robert's...Great-grandfather?

For some reason, Eddard suddenly lost confidence at the end, the relationship was too complicated, and he couldn't figure out how Robert should address such an old man.

But he thought of the mother and child who died tragically in King's Landing, and suddenly he didn't trust his good brother as much.

At that time, he even had a big fight with Robert, then led his troops alone to leave King's Landing, went south to break the siege of Storm's End, and then went to Dorne to bring back his sister's body.

"Oh?"

When Maester Aemon suddenly spoke, naturally it attracted the attention of everyone present.

This time, King Robert led an allied army composed of nobles from the Seven Kingdoms, not only Stannis and Eddard Stark.

There is also Yohn Royce, the Lord of Runestone from the Vale, leading the Vale's army.

The Lord of Golden Tooth from the Westerlands, he leads the Westerlands' army.

Tywin Lannister's own brothers are all dead, and he himself doesn't want to come to the freezing Wall, so he can only give it to a mediocre Lord of Golden Tooth to lead the army.

There's also the 'Blackfish' Brynden Tully from the Riverlands, Dorne, the Riverlands, the Stormlands, etc... except for the Iron Islands.

However, Dorne has the fewest people, only three hundred, it doesn't look like they're here to fight, more like they're here for sightseeing at the end of the world.

Now everyone's eyes are on this old man.

They don't know his Targaryen identity, the once silver hair has now turned pale.

"This is..."

Yohn Royce, the Lord of Runestone, asked with a puzzled face.

He doesn't know this old man, but it seems to be a member of the Night's Watch, and those who can sit here naturally have extraordinary identities, and the old man's age is really old, Earl Yohn asked with a relatively polite tone.

"This is Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch."

At this time, Lord Commander Mormont of the Night's Watch spoke for Maester Aemon, explaining.

"Maester Aemon has served on the Wall for decades, and he is now ninety-three years old."

"He is learned and has almost read all the books left by the Night's Watch."

The precious books left by the Night's Watch over the generations are many of which are not even collected in the Citadel, so Maester Aemon often writes to the Citadel to discuss some issues.

"Oh, it's Maester Aemon."

Hearing that the old man in front of him was ninety-three years old, everyone present showed a shocked expression.

This age is almost a living fossil, they have never heard of anyone living to such an old age.

No matter how brilliant or powerful you were in your youth, in the end, you realize that living a long life is the truth.

The Lord of Golden Tooth also showed a shocked expression, then asked.

"So... old man."

"You just said... the Horn of Winter, is not a non-existent thing, what does that mean?"

Chapter 266: Rhaenys and Rhaegal

"The Horn of Winter... also known as 'Joramun's Horn', is a legendary magical artifact."

"There are several legends about its origin, but the most credible one is that it was left behind by 'Brandon the Builder', according to the 'Chronicles of the Night's Watch'..."

The elderly Maester Aemon began to explain with a shaky voice.

He detailed the records of the Horn of Winter, a thousand years ago, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Joramun, had found and blown this legendary magical item.

However, after his death, this magical item also disappeared without a trace.

Until now, a thousand years later, the new King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder, claims to have found the Horn of Winter.

There are many ancient books stored in Castle Black that can corroborate the existence of the Horn of Winter, so it can be confirmed that it should indeed exist.

However... whether Mance Rayder really found the Horn of Winter is still questionable.

As Maester Aemon's words fell, everyone in the meeting hall of Castle Black, including King Robert, the Lord of Winterfell, Stannis, and others, exchanged glances.

"So..."

Since the Horn of Winter truly exists.

What if... the King-Beyond-the-Wall isn't lying?

He really found the Horn of Winter...

...

Far away at the Wall, the negotiations between the wildlings and the allied forces have become somewhat strained.

Meanwhile, across the sea in Andalos.

Whoosh—

Banners fluttered in the wind.

Soldiers wearing red and black armor adorned with the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem marched in a column along the road, stretching far into the distance, divided into rectangular formations.

They were stationed in the barren mountain camp in the ancient road to the Norvos mountains east of Andalos, the second legion of House Targaryen, led by Prince Oberyn of Dorne, now marching along the banks of the Lhoron River, rushing to support the Eyrie.

The army was marching slowly with heavy steps.

Thud, thud, thud...

And then, the sound of horse hooves rang out.

A man in sandy-colored soft armor, with a sun-piercing golden spear emblem on his chest, sat on a pure black warhorse.

The warhorse ran actively along the bank of the Lhoron River, the hooves kicking up dirt, the man's black curls fluttering in the wind, his deep eyes squinted slightly as he looked into the distance, then he reined in his horse.

"Huh—"

Oberyn reined his horse on the hillside, the horse's hooves pawed the ground a few times, then he turned his head to look back, the long army was slowly advancing.

Then, following him, another knight in black armor wielding a double-bladed axe rode up to Oberyn's side.

"Prince Oberyn."

The sunlight overhead was somewhat dazzling, although it was winter, the sunlight on the Andalos plains was still very abundant.

Oberyn squinted slightly, shading his eyes with his hand to block the sunlight, then turned to look at the black-armored knight.

"Lord Evin Pas."

Oberyn's eyes were deep, his gaze calm and indifferent with a hint of scrutiny, he held the reins in one hand, slightly raised his chin and spoke.

"I've said before, in the legion, you should call me 'Legion Commander', not by my title."

Oberyn fully implemented Viserys' military reform, he was an active supporter of this policy, Oberyn felt that Viserys' reform was indeed good, as it could effectively enhance the combat effectiveness and enthusiasm of the army.

Because Viserys' military reform does not judge heroes by their birth, it actively tore a hole in this, but did not completely tear it down.

In the current Targaryen army, any commoner, even soldiers who were slaves serving in place of their masters, have the opportunity to receive land or become knights as long as they perform meritorious service.

And in the army, official positions are not judged by nobility.

As the Prince of Dorne, Oberyn's status has reached the pinnacle of nobility, everyone thought he would oppose this reform, but unexpectedly, he turned out to be an active supporter of this reform.

Because with Oberyn's intelligent mind, he understands the benefits of reform to the nation.

If history has always been a rolling wheel, starting from one point and then turning a circle back to the original point, repeating itself.

Viserys' appearance gave Oberyn hope to break this historical wheel.

Therefore, such a smart person would follow Viserys faithfully, wanting to help him achieve this great goal.

"I apologize, sir."

When Lord Evin in black armor heard Oberyn's words, a hint of shame appeared on his cheek beneath his helmet, and he quickly apologized.

Evin Pas was one of the first nobles of House Lannister to pledge allegiance to Viserys. Because of his bravery in battle, he was awarded a rich town as a reward.

Due to the reform of the new dynasty's nobility, the actual power in the hands of a count is not very heavy. What truly distinguishes Lord Evin Pas from other Lords of the new dynasty is his military power.

Lord Evin Pas is the deputy commander of the Second Legion, holding significant power.

However, Viserys originally hoped to insert a confidant to balance Oberyn's power, as the struggle between the primary and deputy has always existed since ancient times.

However, Viserys did not expect that Lord Evin Pas was no match for Oberyn in terms of tactics, and was quickly suppressed and became obedient.

Now, Lord Pas's position as deputy commander of the legion is completely nominal, he cannot balance Oberyn's power at all, but has become a tool for the other party.

"Have the logistics and supplies been arranged?"

Just now, Oberyn ordered Lord Evin Pas to keep an eye on the progress of the rear supply wagons.

After all, the supply train is the most important thing for an army on the move. If the supply train is ambushed, the thousands of soldiers could be in danger.

"They have been arranged, Commander."

Lord Evin Pas quickly nodded in agreement.

While the two legion leaders were communicating on the ground, a shadow fell from the sky above.

Whoosh~

Then, spreading its wings, it flew towards the direction the army was advancing.

"A dragon."

Oberyn looked up at the sky.

This huge shadow descending from the sky was, of course, a dragon, but this dragon was much smaller than Balerion, about one-third the size.

Balerion is now about seventeen or eighteen meters, close to twenty meters in length, while this dragon is only six or seven meters in size.

He looks like a little brother who hasn't grown up in front of Balerion, but for humans or warhorses, he is still a rapidly growing behemoth, changing almost daily.

"Rhaegal!" Rhaenys rode on the back of the green dragon Rhaegal, galloping in the blue sky.

Her brown hair fluttered in the wind, there was no fear on her beautiful face, but excitement.

Since Rhaegal was disciplined by Balerion, he has
become much more obedient.

In order to ensure her niece could safely ride the dragon, Oberyn commissioned craftsmen to create a safety device that could securely fasten Rhaenys.

Then Rhaenys rode a dragon for the first time. She was to follow her uncle on a campaign to lift the siege of the Eyrie.

The Eyrie's geographical location is extremely important. If it falls, the Andalos plains behind it would be exposed.

Viserys entrusted this city to her before leaving Andalos, and Rhaenys would not let it suffer any harm.

However, at this moment.

Rhaenys, riding on Rhaegal's back, squinted her beautiful eyes. She seemed to suddenly see a black dot in the distance.

"Huh?"

"What is that?"

Chapter 267: The Chaos of Pentos

Not far from here lies the Castle of Souls, once part of the Grafton region.

This castle, built atop the ruins of a city, is home to ten thousand Targaryen soldiers.

The current state of warfare here is relatively calm. Since the arrival of the Dothraki, they had been fiercely attacking the castle for the first couple of days, leaving many dead on both sides.

However, the Dothraki suddenly halted their siege, resorting to daily provocations instead.

Observations indicate that the Dothraki are constructing siege weapons such as catapults, giant crossbows, and ladders in their encampment.

The number of craftsmen among the Dothraki is not large, and they rarely construct such siege weapons. It's clear that the Dothraki have the support of other Free Cities.

Not only have they blockaded the Bay of Pentos, but they are also helping the Dothraki construct siege weapons.

These horse-riding warriors are not fools. They clearly learned from their previous failed siege attempts and are waiting for their siege weapons to be ready before launching another attack.

The Castle of Souls is an unfinished castle, and once the siege weapons are ready, it wouldn't be difficult to breach its gates.

So, for the past few days, the Dothraki have not attacked the castle but have instead provoked the defenders daily.

The Targaryen soldiers in the castle and camp have not responded to these provocations, acting like turtles hiding in their shells. This has emboldened the Dothraki.

They believe these 'lambs' are only able to resist the Dothraki warriors because they are hiding in their stone houses. If they dare to come out, they would surely be defeated and routed.

The Dothraki provocations became bolder, even approaching the camp's vicinity.

This seemed to enrage the Targaryen soldiers in the camp, and finally, a well-trained knight couldn't bear it any longer.

"Give me a bow and arrow!"

He took a soldier's bow and arrow, drew it, and with a twang, the arrow flew with deadly accuracy, killing the audacious Dothraki.

The other Dothraki who had come to provoke and insult quickly fled upon seeing this, only to continue their provocations from a slightly further distance.

They calculated that this was a position where the camp's arrows couldn't reach.

However, this time, it seemed that the Targaryen commander had truly been enraged by the Dothraki.

This time, the gates of the castle and camp suddenly opened, and a large number of Targaryen soldiers poured out.

The Dothraki scouts seemed unable to react in time and were shot down from their horses.

Only a few managed to escape back to their camp, arrows sticking out of their bodies.

...

"The lambs hiding in the stone houses have the courage to come out?"

In the center of the Dothraki camp was a large tent made of animal skins. Although it looked somewhat crude, it was where the Khal and the Moro sat.

The Khal's khalasar was stronger, so he sat in the main seat, while Moro's khalasar was slightly weaker, so he sat in a side position.

Now, both of them were listening to their tribesmen report the news from Pentos.

The appearance of the dragon greatly hindered the army's attack. The three khals jointly commanded fifty thousand Dothraki warriors and a large number of auxiliary troops. They suffered heavy casualties but did not shake the mighty city of Pentos at all.

In the end, it was the Braavosi who helped, contacting some insiders hiding in Pentos.

They seemed to be Pentoshi who had once been associated with the Red Night. They hated the current Beggar Prince and the Targaryen family that had destroyed everything they had, hoping that their Dothraki friends could help them restore their family's former glory.

Therefore, one night...

They quietly gathered a group of people and hired many mercenaries to suddenly cause chaos in the city of Pentos, seemingly trying to seize the city gate and let the Dothraki army outside rush into the city.

The situation at that time was extremely dangerous. The Dothraki had already received the signal, so they surged forward like a rising tide. The city gate of Pentos was opened in the chaos, and a fierce battle broke out at the city gate.

In the end, the dragon arrived. Balerion used dragon fire to burn the Dothraki's rear, blocking their continuous reinforcements outside the city gate.

The Dothraki who had rushed into Pentos became rootless duckweed. Although they were still fierce and resisted desperately, they were eventually eliminated one by one.

Although this inside-out siege plan ended in failure, it was still encouraging news. After all, they were just a little short of capturing the city of Pentos.

However, what puzzled Khal and Moro was their description of the black dragon. In the intelligence they heard, the black dragon was almost described as a deity on par with the great Horse God.

"Impossible!"

"How old is that black dragon now?"

They couldn't imagine anything growing to a size of more than ten meters in just a year and a half. They knew that their brave Dothraki were just learning to walk at a year and a half old.

"It must be that old useless Mors who lost the battle and doesn't want to admit it."

The two khals looked at each other and agreed that this was the truth. The Dothraki were not harmonious internally, and they only pretended to be friendly in the holy city.

Although conflicts are not allowed in the holy city, there are still many people who are killed by fists and stones in the corners of the city streets every year.

But just then...

The curtain of the animal skin tent was suddenly lifted, and one of the Khal's bloodriders strode in.

"Blood of my blood!"

He then told them what was happening outside.

The Targaryen army, which had been hiding in the castle and camp, seemed to have been provoked and suddenly chased out.

They killed all the provoking tribesmen, lined up outside, and seemed ready to fight the Dothraki with great momentum.

"The lambs hiding in the stone houses have the courage to come out?"

Time returned to the beginning.

The two khals who were listening to the Pentos intelligence looked at each other when they heard the news brought by the bloodrider, and saw the surprise in each other's eyes.

Then came great joy.

"Hahaha—"

"These lambs dare to come out, they should not go back!"

"The warriors of the Dothraki will harvest their souls for the great Horse God."

The Khal was overjoyed and immediately prepared to send people to kill these iron men.

However, Moro, who was sitting on the side, frowned slightly, feeling that something was wrong.

How could these lambs have the courage to abandon their stone houses and fight the brave Dothraki warriors?

Although he had some doubts, he couldn't find what was wrong.

He could only follow behind the Khal and walk out together.

Chapter 268: Victory or Defeat Hangs in the Balance

The Targaryen army assembled outside their camp, banners bearing the three-headed dragon fluttering in the wind. Soldiers stood in neat ranks, their armor gleaming, shouting loud battle cries.

"Ha!"

"Ha!"

Meanwhile, the Dothraki began to emerge from their rudimentary encampment.

The Dothraki camp was extremely crude, without even wooden walls, just some animal skin tents and fire pits dug into the ground. Many Dothraki didn't even have a tent, sleeping under a simple straw mat.

This was bearable during the long summer, but now winter had come. Although Grafton wasn't as cold as other places, the temperature had dropped significantly.

This place was at a higher latitude than the warm Dothraki Sea.

Therefore, the common Dothraki were not comfortable. While they weren't freezing to death, many were getting sick from the cold. They could only try to move around more during the day and put on more clothes in hopes of staying warm.

However, they didn't expect the Targaryen army, which had been holed up in the castle, to suddenly issue a challenge. They lined up outside the city, looking ready for a decisive battle.

Many Dothraki, who had received the order from their Khal to assemble, were a bit confused.

"Have these lambs lost their minds?"

That was the only way they could understand it.

Then the Dothraki army assembled. For this barbaric race, their tactics were all about burning, killing, and looting. After all, few armies could withstand a Dothraki attack in the open field.

Usually, just one charge would cause the enemy's morale to collapse. Soldiers would flee in disarray, and then the Dothraki would mercilessly harvest their lives like cutting down leeks.

"Hmph."

"These audacious lambs."

The tall Khal Jhogo rode his high-headed horse at the front.

He seemed unafraid of the cold, his upper body bare, his body covered in dark tattoos. His deep eyes stared at the Targaryen army lined up outside the city.

Khal Jhogo was not a fool to become a leader. He knew the enemy was trying to lure him into an attack, perhaps with some plan in mind. However, Jhogo had full confidence in his people.

Every four or five years, he would raid Qohor. Although Qohor had once successfully resisted the Dothraki, that was over four hundred years ago. Now, when Jhogo's army arrived at Qohor, they would obediently offer up gold.

He knew the enemy had some plan, but Jhogo didn't care. He believed his khalasar could directly crush them!

Then Jhogo, sitting on his horse, drew his gilded arakh from his waist and gave the order to charge.

"Ohharat!"

The next second.

An endless sea of Dothraki let out a deafening roar, rushing towards the Targaryen army in the distance.

"Ohhh!"

Under the protection of the distant formation, the commander, clad in bright silver armor, held the reins with one hand. His posture on horseback was a bit strange.

His face was covered with a metal mask, his body covered in steel, with only a small gap between the mask and his neck where his skin could be seen.

It was a sight that made one's heart palpitate. His skin was charred and even rotten, like a ghoul walking out of a sea of fire, but his eyes were still bright.

Bessie Joyce looked at the imposing Dothraki in the distance, then raised his hand. His voice sounded somewhat weak, but his words were filled with determination.

"Raise shields, prepare for battle."

His adjutant stiffened, quickly passing down the order.

"Raise shields!"

"Raise shields!"

Commanders at the base level of the legion, clad in bright armor and riding on war horses, shouted loudly.

"Raise your shields, lads!"

"Ha!"

"Ha!"

In an instant, countless shields bearing the emblem of the three-headed dragon were raised, with long spears resting in the gaps between the shields.

The soldiers tightly gripped the shafts of their spears, their throats rolling slightly, their palms sweaty.

This formation of spears and shields was the most basic formation in the Targaryen army, mainly to counter the charge of cavalry units.

Bessie, leading the First Legion stationed here for over a year, had spent a lot of time practicing this formation in addition to building the castle.

Moreover, many of the over ten thousand soldiers he now led were Andal warriors who had participated in the Battle of Grafton on this land.

A spear and shield formation was quickly assembled, while the Dothraki, like a tide, were rushing in from the distance.

The thundering of countless horses made the ground beneath the Targaryen soldiers tremble.

An overwhelming momentum was pressing down on them.

"Is this the Dothraki?"

Many of the Targaryen soldiers who had never seen such a spectacle were already thinking of retreating.

This was the Dothraki's survival skill, scaring the enemy half to death before the battle even began, causing morale to plummet. After a slight impact, they would not be able to withstand the pressure and would scatter and flee.

This was also why Jon Connington desperately tried to stop Viserys from wanting to go out and fight the Dothraki.

If Viserys led an elite force, it would be fine, but the Pentos city guard, such a rotten fish and shrimp, would not be able to withstand such a momentum.

It was likely that there would be deserters before the battle even began, and the collapse of the battle line was often a snowballing disaster, likely affecting everyone and ultimately turning into a rout.

"Archers, steady!"

"Close ranks!"

Command after command came from Bessie's mouth, and the base-level commanders rode their horses in the rear, shouting loudly.

"There's nothing to be afraid of with these damned bastards."

In the spear and shield formation.

An old Targaryen soldier who had followed Viserys, spoke proudly to the new soldiers beside him who had never seen such a spectacle.

"I've personally killed three Dothraki."

"Really?"

The new soldier, listening to the approaching hoofbeats from the distance, looked a bit pale. Hearing the old soldier's words, his face looked a bit better.

Then he heard their general's voice.

"Archers!"

"Hurry up!"

Myles sat on his horse, his hand tightly gripping the reins, looking at the overwhelming Dothraki in the distance, feeling a bit of a chill.

However, he didn't show his fear on his face, because too many people were watching his expression.

Then Myles turned his head to look at his good friend.

Going out to fight was a very risky move, and Myles had privately tried to persuade Bessie to change his mind.

The two boys came from the same Andal village and were among the first to join Andalos.

However, their fates were different. Bessie, who had been calm and brave since childhood and was even chosen as a warrior's son by the village, joined Andalos and was selected to become Viserys's Kingsguard.

Later, he was sent out to lead troops, eventually becoming one of the most powerful people in the kingdom.

Myles, on the other hand, had been struggling in the army.

Fortunately, both boys had good fortunes. They survived through many trials and tribulations and achieved their own successes.

And now... victory or defeat hangs in the balance.

Chapter 269: Fierce Battle!

"Hold the formation!"

"Don't panic!"

Facing the ferocious Dothraki, the soldiers at the front line were the elite of the legion. Even so, they felt tense at this moment, their breathing becoming rapid, gripping their weapons tightly.

In the midst of countless soldiers, the legion commander, surrounded like a star among the moon, still calmly directed.

"Stay calm!"

"The Seven Gods will bless us."

"The Warrior gives us courage and strength."

His words made many panicked soldiers much more stable. Faith, though intangible, also has great power in war, allowing soldiers facing desperate situations to burst out with their last courage.

"Archers, ready!"

Then Bessie raised his hand, the palm of his steel glove reflecting the metallic glow in the morning sun.

"Draw your bows!"

"Draw your bows!"

The captains of the legion, riding on their war horses in the rear, ran their horses and shouted loudly.

In the Targaryen legion, every two hundred people formed a team, and every five teams formed a thousand-man general. There were even more base-level commanders below, with a well-established command system, and the commander's orders were very quickly relayed.

In front was the solid formation of spears and shields, and in the rear were dense archers.

They had their backs to the city wall with no way to retreat, but also no crisis, not having to worry about the Dothraki sneaking around to attack the rear.

Therefore, the Targaryen army still occupied a favorable terrain, and the castle's position was slightly higher on the battlefield.

Creaking—

All the archers heard the order and drew their bows, pulling the bowstrings made a teeth-gritting sound, aiming diagonally at the sky in front.

Then a few more seconds passed.

Rumble—

The vanguard of the Dothraki, with their thundering hooves, had entered the range of the Targaryen army's archery attack. Then came the command.

"Fire!"

"Release the arrows!"

"Release the arrows!"

Thump thump thump—

The bowstrings sounded, a dark rain of arrows flew straight into the sky, then fell from the highest position.

Like a downpour, but the raindrops were all sharp metal arrowheads, smashing down on the faces of the Dothraki.

Plop plop plop—

The dense sound of metal piercing flesh, the rain of arrows quickly fell and stirred up a spray of blood among the Dothraki.

Countless Dothraki, swinging their curved swords on horseback, were shot down, their bodies falling headlong onto the ground, then trampled into a pulp by the horses driven by their tribesmen behind them, instantly splattering blood and flesh.

"Ohhhh!!!"

However, what was despairing was that the Dothraki faced such casualties without changing their expressions.

Instead, stimulated by the blood, they became more ferocious, charging forward even more fearlessly.

"Hold the formation!"

"Lads!"

"Hold the formation!"

Myles gripped the reins tightly and commanded loudly.

The archers' attack did not stop the Dothraki's advance, and what was to come next would be a test for his soldiers.

As a general in the legion, he had more than a thousand soldiers under his command. However, he didn't become a general just because his friend was the legion commander. Myles also participated in the great battle on this land under his feet.

At that time, he was still a captain, leading his brothers to set up defensive fortifications and made great contributions. Plus, in the subsequent wars, he made several more contributions in logistics supply and battle command, eventually becoming a general.

"Oh
hh!!!"

However, the Dothraki's charge did not stop for a moment. After two rounds of arrows, they had reached the front of the Targaryen legion in the blink of an eye.

All the soldiers instinctively gripped their spears tightly, the soldiers hiding behind the shields tensed all their muscles, trying hard to resist the impact that was about to come.

Boom—

The next second.

The Dothraki's war horses directly hit the Targaryen army's spear formation, and the once unshakeable spear formation began to wobble under tremendous pressure.

On the Dothraki side, it was chaos, with horses neighing in pain and fallen soldiers screaming.

"Kill!"

Countless spear-wielding soldiers hiding behind their shields thrust their weapons out, almost without needing to look, just stabbing in and pulling out, then stabbing in and pulling out again.

Blood sprayed in through the gaps in the shields, and everyone was seeing red.

"Kill!"

"Kill all these bastards!"

However, not all parts of the formation withstood this first wave of impact.

The heavy bodies of the charging war horses carried a powerful impact directly into the spear formation, and some weaker areas were instantly breached.

With a breach, the power of the spear formation dropped more than one notch, and in an instant, countless Dothraki crazily poured into several places where there were breaches.

Plop plop—

The shield formation was breached, soldiers fell in disarray, and the Dothraki's curved swords ruthlessly harvested their lives.

"Not good!"

As a general, Myles saw this scene and immediately gritted his teeth, then drew his long sword from his waist.

"Hold on!"

"Hold the formation!"

Then he spurred his horse and rushed up, wanting to personally enter the battle to stabilize the formation.

However, not far away.

Sitting on a pure white war horse without a single stray hair, the commander of the legion, Bessie Joyce, held the reins, his eyes under the mask calmly watching the chaotic battlefield in front of him.

There was more than one breach.

The Dothraki were fearless, using their lives to open a bloody path in the formation, and the once unbreakable line of the Targaryens had begun to show signs of collapse.

But this was not his fault, there were not many armies that could withstand the attack of the Dothraki in the open field.

The army he led, although firm in faith, was not like the Unsullied, who would not hesitate to commit suicide.

If he had a few more years, perhaps he could also lead such a faith-firm army.

But now, talking about those things was useless.

Bessie looked up at the sky, the morning sky was cloudless, with only a few birds flying overhead.

"The time is not yet right."

Then he returned her gaze to the battlefield not far away, and the guards beside his were a little nervous.

"Commander!"

"It's too dangerous here, you should retreat to the castle!"

Although the situation on the front line was tense at the moment, it did not collapse immediately, which showed that the soldiers of the legion were already elite enough.

However, the legion was weak in the rear, and the Dothraki were still pouring in continuously, after all, they had the advantage in numbers.

But Bessie ignored the words of his guard, and after a moment of contemplation, he played a card.

"Send in the cavalry, flank and cut the battlefield."

Now the Dothraki were pouring in and directly attacking the front line. Because of the trenches on both sides and the city wall, they could not go around to attack the flanks of the formation, or launch a rear charge.

If they could, perhaps these Targaryen troops would collapse faster, forced to form a circle to respond.

This was the innate advantage of cavalry over infantry.

Now, with the Targaryen troops backed against the city wall, they almost replicated the conditions of the Battle of Qohor, where three thousand Unsullied stood against the Dothraki.

However, the only difference was that the Targaryen troops were not the unbreakable Unsullied.

Chapter 270: Reinforcements Arrive

Translator here- looks like my update to include the harem tag got my book flagged due to it originally having the raw name of the book and author in its original chinses in the description which had gone under the radar before. I've submitted my appeal and deleted the Chinese text so hopefully it will allow you all to give stones and the like again soon.

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"Draw your bows!"

"Fire!"

On the chaotic battlefield, the shaky frontline managed to withstand the first wave of pressure, while the archers in the rear continued to release their arrows.

Another volley of arrows rained down, countless arrows flew towards the sky, then fell down like a torrential downpour.

The Targaryen army was well-equipped, using barbed arrows, which were most effective against unarmored soldiers like the Dothraki.

Once these arrows pierced flesh, they had to be dug out, taking a chunk of flesh with them. Moreover, the arrowheads were often coated with poison made from golden juice or poisonous herbs.

Given the current medical conditions of the Dothraki, being hit by an arrow was almost certainly a death sentence, with little chance of survival.

A torrent of arrows once again fell into the endless stream of Dothraki.

Thud thud thud—

Another group of Dothraki warriors, brandishing their curved swords and howling, were hit by arrows and fell from their horses, then were trampled into a bloody pulp.

However, the Dothraki also launched a counterattack. As a nomadic people, the Dothraki were most proficient with curved swords, bows and arrows, and long whips.

A bloodrider of a Khal in the front line let out a sharp whistle, and then countless Dothraki following him took short bows from their backs.

They then clamped their legs around their horses' bellies, relying on their strong core strength to stabilize their bodies on the galloping war horses.

Then they drew their bows and nocked their arrows.

Thump thump thump—

A dark volley of arrows flew out, the Dothraki had begun to counterattack, their arrows bypassing the chaotic battlefield in front and falling towards the rear of the Targaryen army.

"Raise your shields!"

"Raise your shields!"

The generals and captains in the army changed their expressions and then ordered the shield bearers in the rear to raise their shields over their heads to block this wave of arrows.

Then a dense rain of arrows fell, striking the shields and making a clattering noise.

However, there were still many arrows that either couldn't be dodged in time or slipped through the gaps in the shields, hitting the Targaryen soldiers.

"Ah!"

Screams of pain immediately rang out.

...

The war continued to escalate.

"Abandon the first line of defense."

"Let the reserve team take over!"

Bessie calmly surveyed the battlefield, issuing commands in rapid succession.

"Retreat!"

"Retreat quickly!"

"Fall back to the second line of defense!"

"Let the reserve team take over!"

Her generals obeyed the orders of their commander without hesitation.

The frontline battle continued, and the soldiers in the midst of the melee might not be aware, but the line was steadily retreating.

Countless war horses continued to crash into the shields, and no matter how sturdy the shield formation was, it would eventually be shattered.

Crack—

The wooden pole of a spear held by a soldier was broken.

"Die!"

Then he drew the long sword from his waist and, with bloodshot eyes, pounced on the enemy in front of him who had fallen from his horse, stabbing him with a sword and cutting off his head.

However, a Dothraki who had jumped down from his horse pounced on him, howling, and then slit his throat.

Spurt—

Blood spurted out, but he still clung to the Dothraki's wrist without letting go.

The frontline battle was extremely fierce, and everyone was seeing red.

At this moment.

The castle gates on both sides opened wide,
and two groups of knights clad in bright plate armor, even their warhorses covered in armor, emerged. They held their lances under their arms, exchanged a glance, and then spurred their horses towards the distant battlefield.

They were Bessie's trump card in this situation.

"Charge!"

"Obey the orders of our commander, cut through the battlefield!"

For heavy cavalry, the first priority was to avoid getting stuck in the battlefield. However, the current battlefield was vast. Although the charge of the heavy cavalry was powerful, and they were entering the battlefield from the side, it was still very difficult for both sides to cut through the battlefield. If they were not careful, they would all get stuck in it.

That would be a disaster for this group of knights.

However, a soldier's duty was to obey orders, and they had great trust in their commander.

Then these two groups of cavalry appeared on the side of the battlefield and charged into the battlefield.

Rumble—

The warhorses galloped, their momentum overwhelming.

In the distance.

Seeing the appearance of the two groups of heavy cavalry, the Khal finally showed a smile on his face.

"Is this the 'Dragonrider Khal's' strategy?"

He knew the other side had plans, but he was confident in his own strength.

However, he didn't expect that after all this waiting, the other side's strategy seemed to be just some tactical changes on the battlefield, nothing new.

He was wary of the losses the previous Khal had suffered, preventing the other side from suddenly using some fire attack.

He even had a dense array of giant crossbows hidden behind him, thinking that the other side's dragon would come to support, and then give a heavy blow, but nothing happened.

"That Viserys is not here, he is still trapped in Pentos."

And the Moro Khal next to him shook his head and spoke.

'Dragonrider Khal' is the Dothraki's name for Viserys, just as they call the Pentos prince who rides in a carriage 'Lame Khal'.

Khal in the Dothraki language is equivalent to king.

"Can a dragon fly over in a day?"

"You're too cautious, Khal."

They had recently received information that Viserys and his dragon should still be in Pentos, even just dealing with a rebellion.

At that time, the city gate was wide open, and the Dothraki warriors had already poured in. If it weren't for his dragon, Pentos would probably have fallen.

This was the flaw in their intelligence. Although they had the help of the Braavosi, there was still a delay in intelligence.

Then the Khal hesitated no more, waved his hand for the whole army to press on. Just now he had been holding back, and the Targaryen army was already gasping for breath. Now, with the whole army pressing on, it was like wanting to swallow them in one bite, not giving them a chance to escape back into the castle.

Otherwise, it would be another headache for the Khal. But as long as they took this castle, what lay ahead was the flat Andal plain.

That was where the Dothraki warriors could show their prowess. They had no pressure, they could burn, kill, loot, and divide up the Targaryen feast.

With the Khal's order, countless Dothraki who had been itching for a fight let out excited howls, then spurred their warhorses and charged towards the distant battlefield.

At this moment.

The Dothraki pressed on with their entire army.

From the side of the battlefield, in the direction of the Rhoyne River, a small black dot first appeared on the horizon in the distance, then a long black line appeared on the horizon.

"Heh—"

Rhaegal, the green dragon, let out a roar. The princess of the new dynasty, Rhaenys, sat on the dragon's back, clad in a small suit of armor.

Her hands tightly gripped the saddle in front of her, the wild wind whipping the girl's brown hair, then she dove towards the position of the Khal below.

"Found you."

Excitement shone in Rhaenys's dark eyes.

She was luckier than Viserys, she had spotted the commanding Khal among the crowd with just one glance, knowing he was the leader of the Dothraki.

This was also the task her uncle Oberyn had given her.

"Dracarys!"

Rhaenys bit her white teeth slightly and whispered in High Valyrian.

Boom—

The next second, a huge flame descended upon the world.

Chapter 271: A Complete Victory

A fierce battle was raging on the battlefield of Ing's Soul Fortress.

Bessie lured the Dothraki into a trap, risking the lives of her soldiers. However, just as all the Dothraki were deeply embroiled in the battlefield, Oberyn's reinforcements arrived in time.

Rhaenys, the eldest princess of House Targaryen, rode her dragon into battle. The young girl made a significant contribution in her first battle, as Rhaegal's dragonfire engulfed two Khals below.

Khal Jhogo and Khal Moro never expected that they, hiding at the back of their troops, would be the first to fall. An enemy descended from the sky and burned them alive.

His prepared giant crossbows didn't even have a chance to show their power before they became ineffective.

Boom—

The surging dragonfire sprayed onto the earth. Khal Jhogo and Khal Moro opened their eyes wide in horror, then were engulfed by the sea of fire without uttering a word.

Then the dragon let out a roar, flapping its wings and flying back into the sky.

Rhaegal's size was far from Balerion's, but it was still a colossal creature compared to the tiny humans on the ground, and even more terrifying for horses, being at the top of the food chain.

At this moment.

A huge figure also appeared in the southern sky above the battlefield.

Viserys, riding on the back of Balerion, flew above the clouds. He squinted his light purple eyes at the battlefield on the ground in the distance.

He didn't expect to arrive late?

What surprised him even more was the figure dancing in the rolling smoke below, occasionally spewing dragonfire.

"Rhaenys?"

Rhaenys dared to ride a dragon to the battlefield on her own. Viserys's heart skipped a beat, then he felt a mix of surprise and anger.

Riding a dragon did not mean complete safety. The spears shot by giant crossbows could still pose a threat to dragons, especially young dragons like Rhaegal.

Even Balerion, the dragon Viserys was currently riding, was still a young dragon. It just grew a bit faster with the help of the black fog.

And the dragon riders were even more dangerous...

"This little girl..."

Viserys gritted his teeth slightly, feeling a bit angry because he cherished Rhaenys. She was his family.

Perhaps it was his recent return to Andalos riding a dragon that sparked the girl's longing for the sky. So the audacious girl secretly rode a dragon into battle without telling him.

It seemed that someone was backing her up.

"Hmph, Oberyn."

Then Balerion let out a roar and dived towards the battlefield on the ground.

Rhaegal, who was wreaking havoc on the battlefield, heard this roar coming from above, and his body shivered. His wings fluttered twice, and he almost fell straight from the sky.

The threat of his big brother was almost his childhood trauma...

Rhaenys, on Rhaegal's back, was also startled. She had been focusing all her attention on setting fire below and didn't notice Viserys's arrival above.

"Has Viserys arrived?"

Rhaenys suddenly felt a bit guilty.

...

Meanwhile, on the battlefield.

"Heh—"

The dragon roared.

The flight of two dragons in the sky almost brought a catastrophe to the Dothraki.

The banners of House Targaryen and the Second Legion of the Mountain Camp were waving in the distance.

Rumble—

Oberyn's army charged from the rear with great momentum, directly stabbing the Dothraki in the rear, delivering the final blow.

Although the Dothraki were numerous, Oberyn's timely arrival balanced the numbers, and their morale was overwhelmingly superior.

"Voijor!"

This is the word for 'god' in the Dothraki language.

The appearance of the first dragon had already led to the death of the Khals in dragonfire.

The appearance of the second, larger dragon directly shattered the Dothraki's will to fight.

"Os!"

They then began to shout for retreat. They had not expected that a situation that had been going smoothly would fall apart in an instant.

The Dothraki are very superstitious, attributing mysterious qualities to things they can't explain. They called the dragons 'gods'.

"The Dragon-riding Khal!"

"This is the Dragon-riding Khal!"

Facing a pincer attack and with two dragons flying overhead, the Dothraki were in complete chaos, constantly shouting in alarm.

Viserys had a title in the Dothraki language: 'Dragon-riding Khal'.

"Not just the Dragon-riding Khal!"

"There's also the Dragon-riding Khaleesi!"

Sharp-eyed Dothraki also noticed a girl on the back of the slightly 'smaller' green dragon.

Two dragon riders, two dragons, a catastrophe.

The battlefield then became one-sided.

Bessie Joyce had survived the initial difficult stage, successfully baiting all the Dothraki forces.

His plan was to swallow the over thirty thousand Dothraki in one gulp.

Therefore, Oberyn's support was crucial. Fortunately, Oberyn did not disappoint him and arrived as promised. The arrival of Viserys and Rhaenys was an unexpected joy.

"Your Majesty, and..."

"Princess Rhaenys."

Bessie, covered in armor, looked up at the dragons flying in the sky, admiration in his eyes.

She once had feelings for Rhaenys, which he never hid. At that time, he was still a member of Viserys's Kingsguard.

Unfortunately, Rhaenys did not reciprocate his feelings. The girl only had eyes for Viserys, so Bessie gave up. The gap between their statuses was too great.

Later, when Rhaenys pleaded with him to save Daenerys, Bessie rushed into the fire without hesitation.

He did it to save her own mother, and also at Rhaenys's request.

But later... things got worse for him.

However, he did not regret it, because this was a test from the Seven Gods.

The Legion Commander sighed deeply, gathered his emotions, and then issued the final order with a firm gaze from beneath her mask.

"Kill all who have not surrendered!"

"Kill!"

In an instant, the Targaryen army surged forward, completely crushing the remaining Dothraki.

The Dothraki trapped in the encirclement tried to break out, but most of them simply surrendered. With the Khals dead, they lost their will to fight.

"The Dragon-riding Khal!"

"The True Dragon Khal!"

A sea of Dothraki dismounted and kneeled in surrender.

The Dothraki, who would take days to round up even if they were pigs, offered no resistance in this situation.

They knelt on the ground, then cut off their own whips.

Then they raised their curved swords high above their heads, shouting words that were incomprehensible. It seemed they had been thoroughly conquered.

"Heh—"

The green dragon Rhaegal landed on the ground with Rhaenys on its back.

Chapter 272: The Khaleesi of the True Dragon Khal

Rhaegal descended.

"The Khaleesi of the Dragon-riding Khal!"

The Dothraki who had surrendered and knelt on the ground shouted loudly at Rhaenys.

However, Rhaenys looked confused; she didn't understand what they were saying.

"What... what are they saying?"

Rhaenys looked bewildered, she didn't understand the Dothraki language.

"Your Highness."

"Be careful."

Then, a guard caught the princess as she jumped down from the dragon's back.

Rhaenys, taller than most girls her age, was clad in bright armor. Her brown hair fell behind her, and she casually brushed it behind her ears.

Holding her helmet that she had just taken off, her small boots stepped on the soft ground, giving her a somewhat heroic look.

Although Rhaenys had commanded Rhaegal to set fire freely while in the air, seeing the charred bodies scattered on the ground, which turned into ashes with a gust of wind, made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

At that moment.

Huff...

A heavy breathing sound came from above, along with the sound of flapping wings.

Viserys, riding on Balerion, also landed on the ground.

Boom—

Balerion's heavy body hit the ground, causing a huge noise and making the ground tremble slightly.

The surrendered Dothraki who were kneeling on the ground saw the huge dragon that had just been soaring in the sky landing in front of them. It was even larger up close, and their eyes filled with fear.

They muttered in the obscure and difficult Dothraki language, repeating words similar to 'god'.

Viserys also climbed down from the dragon's back. Seeing the riding gear on Rhaegal, he felt slightly relieved.

Riding a dragon in the most primitive way was somewhat dangerous.

But fortunately, he had extraordinary abilities and wouldn't easily be thrown off by the dragon's rolling. Even if he fell off, he could turn into a cloud of black fog and climb back up.

Looking at Rhaenys, who was standing there somewhat guiltily.

Viserys's face became slightly stern. Although he rarely got angry, when he was serious, he had a certain imposing aura. He then jumped down from the dragon's back.

Rhaegal, lying on the side, also looked a bit submissive when he saw his big brother.

Balerion's huge head was almost as big as half of Rhaegal's body. If he wanted to... he could kill Rhaegal with one bite.

But fortunately, Balerion was just a strict older brother.

He wasn't a crazy older brother like the Mountain, who would press his brother into a brazier.

Currently, the Mountain was still being held in the prison of Pentos and hadn't been executed. Since Oberyn found out that the Mountain had fallen into Viserys's hands, he strongly demanded to personally judge him.

He wouldn't let this demon die too easily. Oberyn wanted the Mountain to confess all his crimes and the instigators behind him, and to testify in front of the gods, before making him wish he were dead.

Therefore, Gregor Clegane was able to live in prison for more than half a year.

Viserys, also wearing armor, took off his helmet, his silver hair spread out, and handed it to a soldier nearby.

"Your Majesty."

Then he came to Rhaenys, looking at her with bright eyes.

Rhaenys, on the other hand, seemed even more guilty, and even a little afraid to look up at him.

"Good morning, Viserys."

After a while,

Rhaenys finally mustered the courage to speak. Her voice was pleasant, but now it was as faint as a mosquito's hum.

She tentatively greeted him, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Viserys, however, remained silent, then sighed.

He had heard from the old maid that Rhaenys had changed a lot since she had been in charge of a city on her own.

She had become independent and had her own opinions, and her once stubborn character had also mellowed a lot. She had somewhat of a lady's demeanor.

But now, to Viserys, Rhaenys's character still hadn't changed. She was still the little girl who would argue with him if he didn't let her out of the city.

Perhaps Viserys's sigh had provoked Rhaenys.

The girl clenched her fists slightly, then finally raised her head, her eyes slightly red, and said, "Viserys, I heard about the war here... I just wanted to do my part." Rhaenys's voice was full of grievance.

Viserys, hearing Rhaenys's words, was slightly taken aback.

He remembered what the old maid had once told him.

"Princess Rhaenys always wants to help you."

Was that so?

Viserys lowered his head to look at the somewhat aggrieved girl in front of him, her light purple eyes sparkling.

He then finally bent down and hugged her.

Clank—

The sound of their armor colliding echoed, the cold metal touching each other. Viserys's action was so sudden that the girl didn't expect it.

"I'm sorry Rhaenys."

Viserys gently held Rhaenys, took a deep breath, and said,

"I was wrong to blame you."

Rhaenys wanted to help him, that had been her intention from the start.

She hadn't remained unchanged, she just hadn't become a lady.

Instead, she had matured, shedding her youthful naivety at an age when she should have been carefree, and had become stronger.

Not far away,

Bessie, wearing a metal mask and covered in armor, watched this scene and nodded slightly.

He then turned his gaze away and continued to command the soldiers to clean up the aftermath.

The few Dothraki who were still resisting were being surrounded and killed one by one by the incoming Targaryen soldiers.

The vast majority of the Dothraki, knowing they had no hope of escape, didn't fight to the death. After the Khal died, they seemed to lose their courage to fight and knelt on the ground, waiting to be taken as prisoners.

"These Dothraki seem to be expressing their submission."

"Your Majesty."

At this moment, an officer standing next to Viserys spoke.

They didn't understand the Dothraki language, and there were no Dothraki translators here, but they could roughly understand from their actions.

Viserys, who had already let go of the hug, had Rhaenys by his side.

He looked at the Dothraki kneeling on the ground, bowing to the dragons, himself, and Rhaenys, muttering words they didn't understand, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Is there a Dothraki translator?"

"Or is there anyone among them who understands High Valyrian or the Common Tongue?"

Viserys himself knew two languages, one was the Targaryen mother tongue, High Valyrian, and the other was the Common Tongue of Westeros.

"I'll find one for you, Your Majesty."

The officer standing next to Viserys immediately nodded and ran off to find a translator for Viserys.

It didn't take long for a soldier who understood the Dothraki language to be brought before Viserys.

"Your Majesty."

This soldier understood the Dothraki language because he had once followed a trade caravan to Vaes Dothrak.

"These Dothraki are expressing their submission to you, calling you the 'Dragon-riding Khal' and the 'True Dragon Khal'."

Then, the soldier who understood the Dothraki language stole a glance at Rhaenys.

The girl in front of him was not very old, a blooming maiden.

Moreover, Rhaenys was extremely beautiful, inheriting the best features of her parents. She had the handsome features of the Targaryens and some exotic charm of Dorne, which made the young men in the camp couldn't help but sneak peeks.

However, they all knew Rhaenys's identity.

Although she didn't have the Targaryen's signature silver hair, the girl had arrived riding a dragon, and the dragon head badge on her chest was enough to show her 'dragon' identity.

"They... they also call Princess Rhaenys the 'Khaleesi of the True Dragon Khal'."

Chapter 273: Submission

"True Dragon Khal?"

"Khaleesi of the True Dragon Khal?"

Viserys was slightly taken aback when he heard the Dothraki titles from the translator.

He hadn't expected the Dothraki to address him in such a way, and even more surprising was...

Viserys glanced at Rhaenys, who stood beside him, clad in slender armor, looking gallant.

The brunette girl, however, didn't understand what 'Khaleesi' meant in the Dothraki language. Her face was somewhat puzzled, as she had been hearing this title since her arrival.

"This... True Dragon Khal refers to Viserys, right?"

"I heard that Khal is their term for 'king'."

Rhaenys, her pretty face slightly confused, asked.

"They call me 'Khaleesi of the True Dragon Khal'?"

"What does 'Khaleesi' mean?"

Rhaenys had heard that the term Khal represented the king of the Dothraki, but she didn't understand what Khaleesi meant.

The soldier who understood the Dothraki language, hearing the princess's question, didn't hesitate. He was a bit blunt and, before Viserys could stop him, he straightforwardly said,

"Princess Rhaenys, in the Dothraki language, Khaleesi means the woman of the Khal, or in our terms, the queen."

The translator spoke directly, and Viserys, who had been about to stop him, was a step too late and could only scratch his head.

"What?"

Rhaenys, hearing the translator's explanation, immediately widened her beautiful eyes.

The brunette girl clearly hadn't expected this, and her face turned slightly red.

"Don't they know that I..."

Viserys, seeing this, shook his head slightly.

He then pondered for a moment, then looked up at the translator.

"Why would the Dothraki do this, suddenly express submission?"

Viserys was somewhat confused by the Dothraki's thought process.

They were clearly enemies, Rhaenys had just incinerated two of their Khals with dragon fire, shouldn't they be seeking revenge for their Khals?

Moreover, when Viserys had defeated Drogo, he had also captured many Dothraki.

At that time, based on his knowledge of the plot from his previous life, Viserys was extremely envious of these naturally skilled horsemen.

Unfortunately, those Dothraki would rather be sold as slaves than submit to Viserys, a foreigner.

That had left Viserys somewhat frustrated.

However, unexpectedly, at this time, without any prior intention of subduing the Dothraki, they simply surrendered and expressed their submission.

What were these people thinking?

Viserys was somewhat puzzled, then asked.

Although the soldier who understood the Dothraki language wasn't a Dothraki himself, he had some understanding of them from following a trade caravan.

He pondered for a moment, then explained.

"The Dothraki don't have much loyalty to their Khal. Often, when a Khal dies in battle, they will immediately join the tribe that defeated them."

Apart from the bloodriders, the rest of the Dothraki have little loyalty to the Khal. He paused slightly.

"Perhaps it's because Your Majesty defeated them riding a dragon, that's why they submitted."

"The Dothraki have always believed that the Khal must ride the most robust horse."

The Khal is the strongest warrior in the tribe, naturally entitled to ride the most robust horse in the tribe.

Drogo's horse was a noble breed, taller and more ferocious than other horses.

It would even bite the opponent's horse during battles, often leaving the
opponent's horse bloody and wounded after a fight.

Unfortunately, Drogo's horse, along with Drogo himself, was reduced to ashes by fire.

The soldier who understood the Dothraki language continued his explanation.

"The Dothraki believe that the strong ride swift horses, and Your Majesty, you defeated them riding a dragon."

"A dragon is much more powerful than the most robust horse... naturally, you have become the strongest Khal in their eyes."

"That's why they call you the 'Dragon-riding Khal' and the 'True Dragon Khal'."

The translator's explanation of the Dothraki's intentions was reasonable. In fact, the Dothraki's thoughts were slightly different from what he said, but overall, they were not far off.

Viserys, riding a dragon, won the submission of the Dothraki. Whether it was for survival or other reasons, they were willing to kneel and surrender, even becoming part of the 'Dragon-riding Khal's' khalasar.

"Bullying the weak and fearing the strong?"

Listening to the translator's explanation, Viserys raised an eyebrow. Wasn't this the attitude the Dothraki were expressing?

This reminded Viserys of a country in his previous life that, after being conquered by an unstoppable weapon, willingly became a dog for the conqueror.

However, Viserys did not rush to accept the Dothraki's surrender.

After all, they had just defeated these Dothraki, and the number of Dothraki participating in this war, including the captured servants, reached as many as thirty to forty thousand.

Excluding the refugees whose homes were destroyed and were sent back, there were still twenty thousand Dothraki. Many had died in the recent siege and battle.

Now, the total number of Targaryen forces was only about twenty thousand. The number of Dothraki who surrendered after the war was roughly equal to this number.

Viserys didn't have the courage to accept these Dothraki at this time.

Otherwise, if they seized the opportunity to suddenly revolt, the Targaryen army would not be prepared and would not be able to suppress them, and the result of this battle would be a complete waste.

"Let's discuss this matter later."

"First, confiscate these Dothraki's weapons and detain them."

Viserys thought for a moment, then waved his hand and issued an order.

"Understood."

The officer standing nearby, hearing the king's command, hurriedly reported to their legion commander.

The soldier who understood the Dothraki language was kept by Viserys.

"You stay."

Viserys raised his hand and pointed, and the soldier quickly nodded and followed the king.

Viserys still had some things to interrogate these surrendered Dothraki, especially their leaders.

"Two Khals are already dead, look for their bloodriders, see if any survived?"

He knew the relationship between a Khal and his bloodriders; they ate and slept together and even shared wives.

When a Khal died, his bloodriders would do everything in their power to avenge him, and after the revenge was over, they would commit suicide to follow their Khal.

Such unstable factors must be rooted out in advance, otherwise, Viserys dared not accept these Dothraki.

Chapter 274: The Future Choices

"As for the rest..."

Viserys walked forward, his boots crunching on the charred earth.

Clank—

The sound of his armor echoed as he paused, deep in thought, before turning his head to speak.

"Find me two more Kos. I have some questions for them."

"Understood, Your Majesty!"

The soldier beside him quickly nodded in agreement.

"Hmm."

Viserys gave a slight nod, and the soldier hurried off.

The young king, clad in shining silver armor, stood still, gazing at the battlefield that was gradually quieting down. The slanting sun overhead cast its light on the land, where soldiers were cleaning up, taking away the Dothraki who had surrendered on their knees.

Of course, Viserys hadn't forgotten that while the battle here had ended, there were still as many as fifty thousand Dothraki besieging Pentos.

Once the battle here was over, he would have to lead his men to Pentos without delay.

The enemy at the Battle of the Eyrie had been completely wiped out. Now, the Dothraki's retreat had been cut off by the Targaryen army.

All that was left was to close the net.

At this moment, a Dothraki who had feigned surrender suddenly attacked as he passed by, intending to kill Viserys. However, Viserys easily dodged the attack as if he had eyes in the back of his head, then twisted the man's neck, leaving his body on the ground.

The Dothraki who had surrendered were instantly terrified, and their gazes towards Viserys became even more fanatical.

However, Viserys remained calm. He simply looked down at the body on the ground before leaving, as if he had just casually squashed an ant.

Such a clumsy assassination attempt could never harm him now. Compared to the Faceless Men he had dealt with before, this was nothing.

He didn't even need to bring his personal guards anymore, because they couldn't protect him. In fact, he had to protect them.

Even if the Faceless Men tried to assassinate him again, they would not succeed. The death of the two Faceless Men last time was a warning to the House of Black and White.

The Faceless Men had never suffered such a heavy blow. Two members had been lost to one target, although one of them was only a peripheral member, and the other was a core member.

They didn't know what had happened.

However, the target was indeed powerful enough to kill a Faceless Man, which was enough to make the Faceless Men organization vigilant.

They had already carried out the Sea King's order, and now even the Sea King couldn't ask them to continue to target Viserys. It was not easy to mobilize them.

They would also carefully consider the task related to the Targaryen family. If they completely angered the other party, they might face a disaster in the future. The House of Black and White had some foresight.

Afterward, Viserys returned to the castle.

The overall color of the Eyrie was very dark, the walls were hard, and from a distance, the atmosphere was very solemn and heavy, which was in line with the reason for the construction of this castle.

Unfortunately, this castle had not been fully repaired yet. Now, it was probably only about one-third completed. Once it was finished, it would become an impregnable fortress.

Viserys sat in the great hall, and the identity of the Dothraki who had just attacked him was also investigated.

He was one of Zheko Khal's bloodriders. He had personally led the attack just now, so he had escaped the calamity of being burned to death by Rhaegal's dragonfire. However, he then sought his own death and lost his life.

But this was just a minor incident on the battlefield. There were many who wanted to kill Viserys.

Then, two of the surrendered Dothraki Kos were brought up. They knelt down in fear, looking as if they regarded Viserys as a god not to be offended.

Viserys asked them several questions.

About the three Khals besieging Pentos, and a series of specific intelligence, he learned some interesting things.

However, these two Kos didn't know much.

Although they were minor leaders in the khalasar, they usually just executed the Khal's orders. They rarely thought independently and only became more active when the Khal died, considering whether they should vie for power.

Therefore, the information they could provide to Viserys was not much.

Seeing the situation, Viserys thought for a moment, then waved his hand to dismiss them.

At this moment, a Targaryen soldier hurriedly walked in from outside the door, interrupting Viserys's thoughts.

"Your Majesty."

He brought some special news.

"Hmm?"

After hearing the news, Viserys was slightly taken aback. It was unexpected.

It turned out that among the captured prisoners, there were several hundred Braavosi.

Some of them were craftsmen who helped the Dothraki build siege weapons, while others were soldiers responsible for operating these weapons.

Unfortunately, neither Zheko Khal nor Moro Khal had the chance to use the weapons built by the Braavosi.

Rhaegal's dragonfire had killed them, and even the giant crossbows were damaged. They were wiped out before they could even fire a shot.

The soldier came to ask Viserys how to deal with these people, and Viserys thought for a moment.

Craftsmen who build siege weapons?

This was a valuable asset. It would be a waste to kill them.

Then, with a wave of his hand, he decided to take them all.

As long as Braavos still cared about its reputation, it wouldn't come to demand them back. And even if they did, he had a reason to refuse. These were his prisoners of war.

As for whether to turn against Braavos, Viserys no longer cared. Just a few nights ago, he had ridden his dragon under the cover of darkness and set fire to the 'pirates' blocking the Bay of Pentos.

More than a dozen 'pirate' ships were destroyed and sunk to the bottom of the sea, and many more were damaged and needed repairs. It was very likely that they wouldn't make it back to Pentos before sinking.

The next morning, the soldiers on the watchtower found that the pirate ships blocking the sea had all disappeared.

The flow of ships to and from Pentos was restored to normal, and the supply of materials would soon improve.

After the battle, all the surrendered Dothraki had their weapons confiscated and were detained.

And that night, Viserys was contemplating the situation on the continent of Essos after the war.

The Dothraki's westward expansion had been thwarted, and without foreign things to plunder, there would inevitably be more strife on the grasslands.

As for the Free Cities, the Targaryens had undoubtedly established a significant position.

Pentos had great potential. Its population and economy were very developed, and with the protection of the powerful Targaryen military, it was time for Pentos to drive the war chariot forward.

"Should I turn against Braavos now and challenge the position of the top Free City?"

"Or should I continue to wait for the situation at the Wall, seizing the opportunity to invade Westeros when necessary?" Viserys was somewhat indecisive.

Chapter 275: Stalemate

And with this I say enjoy your weekend and see you again next weekend :)

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After defeating the Dothraki, the Targaryens had clearly proven themselves to be the second most powerful force among the Free Cities.

They had surpassed distant Volantis and now had the power to challenge the leading city.

Dragons were the source of the Targaryens' confidence. Dragons could create many miracles and were something that other forces could not possess.

However, while it was satisfying to take revenge immediately, Viserys also had to consider the cost of turning against Braavos at this moment.

His dragons might not be as effective against Braavos, which had a strong military-industrial capability, unlike the traditional nomadic tribes of the Dothraki.

They truly had many giant crossbows that could threaten dragons. If faced with hundreds of these crossbows aimed at the sky, even if their aim was poor, they could still pose a threat through sheer numbers.

If fighting the Dothraki was a walk in the park for the dragons, facing the terrifying array of giant crossbows in Braavos would be a hellish challenge requiring top-notch maneuvering.

Moreover, Braavos had made more preparations to counter dragons.

As the founders of Braavos were a group of slaves who had escaped from Valyria, they had made preparations to counter dragons from the very beginning.

The entire city of Braavos was a stone city, with hundreds of islands connected together.

But there was not a single tree in the entire city, only bare stone houses.

They were connected by stone bridges, and perhaps only at the port were there numerous wooden ships.

Therefore, Braavos could stand tall and unflinching in the face of the threat of dragons, because the dragon's fire could hardly ignite the city, and the threat was naturally greatly reduced.

Meanwhile, not only was the continent of Essos in turmoil due to the rise of the Targaryens.

Westeros was also facing the winter, with tens of thousands of wildlings at the gates, and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms forming an alliance to prevent the wildlings from crossing the Wall and fleeing to the south.

Several negotiations between the two sides had been fruitless, and it seemed that the issue would ultimately be resolved by war.

Now, it was time to accumulate strength and wait for the Baratheon dynasty and the wildlings, as well as the White Walkers, to fight each other to a standstill. That would be the best time for Viserys to send troops to reclaim Westeros.

If he turned against Braavos now, he might miss this opportunity and give the Iron Throne a chance to catch its breath.

The night outside the window was deep, and the crows were making unpleasant noises on the city wall.

Viserys sat alone in the castle room, his fingers interlocked, looking at the night outside the window for a long time without speaking, contemplating the future direction.

As for the upcoming battles, there was actually not much to consider.

Although the Dothraki's eighty thousand allied forces had only lost thirty thousand, and this was not the main battlefield. However, this loss of thirty thousand also liberated twenty thousand Targaryen soldiers.

This was a case of one side's loss being the other side's gain.

The balance of power between the two sides was no longer as unbalanced as before, but had taken a big turn, with the Targaryen army now having the upper hand.

The forces in Pentos and the Eyrie formed a pincer, perfectly trapping the remaining fifty thousand Dothraki in the middle, like a large net slowly opening.

They would rest for the night, and tomorrow they could lead the army to march. If the Dothraki's information was not well-informed, they might be able to seize the opportunity to finish them off.

Not a single one of these fifty thousand Dothraki would be allowed to escape.

After a while, the dense fog of the early morning slowly arrived.

...

Meanwhile, not too far away in Pentos.

Jon Connington got up early and was busy in his room, handling the military and political affairs of Pentos.

Despite having commanded large battles and served as the Hand of the King of the kingdom, with ample experience in command and coordination, Jon Connington still felt a bit overwhelmed recently.

He was now effectively taking on the duties of the Hand of the King of the new dynasty. There were many matters, big and small, in Pentos recently, and all of them were pressing on his shoulders.

He had to consider the defense of the city, internal affairs, and even the situation of material reserves.

Because their King was not in the city at the moment, but had ridden his dragon on a trip.

The Dothraki army outside had Pentos surrounded so tightly that not even a fly could get in.

However, Viserys seemed to be unaffected, taking his dragon out for a spin whenever he pleased.

He could even patrol over the heads of the Dothraki, scaring the three Khals into hiding among the common people's tents.

They dared not sleep in their own large tents, fearing that they would be roasted by a column of fire from the sky while they slept.

Even now, the three Khals in Pentos had already thought about retreating, but they were too embarrassed to be the first to suggest it.

Such a strong expedition, without gaining any benefits, and then running away with their tails between their legs.

This would probably become the "Shame of the Khals" in the future, looked down upon by their peers, and even their own people would gradually become disloyal.

However, the three Khals were overthinking. Viserys had not been focusing on them recently, but was looking for trouble elsewhere.

A few nights ago.

The 'pirates' who were blockading the Bay of Pentos suddenly suffered a heavy blow.

This news took two days to reach Pentos. It was said that more than a dozen ships were destroyed by the dragon.

These 'pirates' suffered heavy losses and were forced to abandon the blockade of the Bay of Pentos.

And everyone knew who these 'pirates' were.

It was understandable for Viserys to sneak out and attack these navy ships that had lowered their flags. The other side had suffered a big loss but could only swallow their anger.

What else could they do?

Admit that they were pirates?

However, Viserys had gone out two nights ago and had not returned since.

However, Jon Connington knew very well that Viserys had flown to the Eyrie.

Since the defenders of Pentos could not leave the city to fight and defeat the Dothraki, and dragging it out was not a solution, he went to resolve the battle on the other side first, and then brought those people over to relieve the siege of Pentos from both inside and outside.

At this moment.

Someone knocked on the door and then walked in.

"Sir."

"I've pried open the mouths of the prisoners we captured a few days ago." Ramsay, with his dark hair and gloomy face, sat in the chair opposite Jon Connington and spoke.

Chapter 276: Retreat

Not long ago, a major incident occurred in the city of Pentos during the night.

Members of the families that had been purged during the Red Night had somehow secretly returned to Pentos. They hid in the shadows, bribed some soldiers, and hired many mercenaries.

They attempted to seize the city gates during the onset of war, allowing the Dothraki to rush in, but in the end, this rebellion was quelled.

Viserys was furious and ordered Ramsay to thoroughly investigate the matter.

Ramsay had been busy with this recently, as it was his responsibility that the surviving members of the purged Magister families were able to sneak into Pentos and cause trouble.

"Does it have anything to do with the Beggar Prince?" Jon Connington, busy with paperwork, asked without lifting his head.

Jon suspected that this matter had something to do with the Beggar Prince.

After all, the fact that the surviving members of the Magister families could sneak into Pentos under the noses of the guards indicated a significant problem with the bureaucratic system.

However, suspicion was just suspicion, and he had no evidence.

After all, during the Red Night, the one who had been most ruthless against these Magister families was the Beggar Prince.

In theory, there should be deep hatred between the two, and the Magister families should hate the Beggar Prince to the bone. They would never cooperate, but...

Jon always felt something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"No."

However, Ramsay Snow shook his head slightly in response to Jon's question.

"This matter ultimately did not lead to the Beggar Prince."

Ramsay had pried open the mouths of the prisoners, and eventually traced the matter to many people.

However, the power behind them was very alert. When they noticed Ramsay's investigation, they chose to cut off their tails to survive, and the entire line of inquiry was cleanly severed.

Before Ramsay could find the remaining people, they had already been killed, making it difficult for Ramsay to continue the investigation along this line of inquiry.

The Beggar Prince had been behaving himself recently, and it was hard to see any problems.

"Is that so?"

Jon heard Ramsay's words, paused his pen for a moment, thought for a while, and then sighed.

He then asked again, "What about the Princess from Dorne and the Sand Snakes? Any recent movements?"

"No."

Ramsay shook his head again.

Princess Arianne and the Sand Snakes had not left the palace much recently. At most, they had climbed the city walls to look at the Dothraki surrounding Pentos.

Not long ago, when Viserys was about to leave Pentos on his dragon, Arianne wanted to join him on the dragon, but it seemed that Balerion had refused.

Jon didn't know the specifics, but it was clear that not just anyone could ride a dragon.

Arianne did not have the blood of the Dragon King, so naturally, she could not gain the approval of the dragon. Dragons are very proud, and the face of Viserys alone was not enough, they needed more...

And Aegon... Jon's pen did not stop, and his thoughts unconsciously drifted here.

When Balerion was in Pentos, Jon had tried to get the little boy to know this huge black dragon.

However, it was clear that Aegon could not gain Balerion's approval either, but his attitude was not very bad.

Jon had been prepared for this, as Balerion already had a partner, which was Rhaegar's younger brother, the current king.

And not every Targaryen could gain the approval of a dragon.

However, even though Jon was prepared, he couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

And this disappointment was even more evident in young Aegon - the dragon did not recognize him.

Jon was lost in thought for a moment.

"Lord Jon."

"I'll leave first."

The leader of the internal affairs department, wrapped in a black robe, stood up and nodded slightly.

"Alright, good."

The man with grey-red hair also nodded.

Then, Ramsay, dressed in a black robe, turned and left Jon Connington's office.

Since Jon temporarily took over the military and political power of Pentos, Ramsay has been much busier than before, having to come to Jon's office every day to report on his work.

In fact, it's not just Ramsay. Everyone in the palace, and even the entire city of Pentos, from government officials and military leaders to ordinary soldiers and merchants, have become busier.

Jon Connington fully demonstrated his meticulous character, insisting on getting to the bottom of everything, no matter how big or small.

In handling government affairs, Jon might be more proficient than Viserys, and also more professional than the nominal Hand of the King, who has virtually relinquished power due to old age and injuries from the Battle of Dragonstone, Lord Joffrey.

When Viserys left Pentos, he handed the city over to Jon.

And now it seems that Jon is handling everything quite well.

Year 291 of Aegon's reign, June.

Time flies, the former Ghoyan Drohe, now Ghost Hill, has almost become a nightmare for the Dothraki near the Trident.

Two consecutive wars have hit a wall for the Dothraki who had been rampaging on the continent of Essos.

Even a bloody defeat, with two to three tens of thousands of Dothraki dying in the two wars, truly becoming a mass grave for the Dothraki.

After winning the war, Viserys allowed the soldiers to rest for a day.

He distributed the rewards brought by Oberyn, and then the army set off towards Pentos.

Two giant dragons flew in the sky, and on the ground was an endless Targaryen army.

They held high the banner of the three-headed dragon, wore black and red armor, and marched in orderly steps.

They formed a winding long snake, with cavalry riding on the sides of the team, shouting loudly.

And the slow and heavy supply carts followed in the middle and rear of the army, being protected by the army.

Ahead.

Pentos was not far away.

And the Dothraki had received news of the defeat on the other side a few days ago.

Immediately, Mago did not hesitate and led the remaining fifty thousand Dothraki warriors to retreat towards Meereen.

And the other two, Jhogo and Pono, surprisingly did not object.

Fifty thousand Dothraki facing twenty thousand regular Targaryen army in an open field battle, in theory, there should be no need to retreat.

However, the Dothraki have a natural fear of dragons, and the presence of dragons would scare their horses.

Therefore, the Dothraki felt that there was no chance of winning this battle, so they ran very cleanly.

And for the people of Pentos who had been besieged for a month and a half, when they saw the Dothraki outside the city start to dismantle their camps and prepare to retreat, they were all taken aback.

"Are the Dothraki trying to trick us?"

Jon Connington personally donned his armor and climbed the city walls to observe.

"Or has there been a change in the situation on His Majesty's side?"

Chapter 277: The Trap

Jon's strategic vision was commendable.

Upon seeing the Dothraki retreat so easily, he guessed that something had gone awry on another battlefield.

Otherwise, the Dothraki, who had traveled a great distance with grandeur, would not be willing to retreat so shamefully.

Of course, it was also possible that the Dothraki were luring them into a trap.

If the defenders of Pentos dared to pursue, they would be annihilated, and the city would be taken.

If one were to judge solely by the leisurely retreat of the Dothraki, it did seem like a bit of a ruse.

Jon Connington, although not very old, was an experienced commander and would not willingly fall for such a trap.

What kind of soldiers did others bring to fight the Dothraki in the field? The Unsullied, or at the very least, elite troops.

What kind of army was left to him in Pentos? A group of mercenaries and a ragtag group of defenders.

Even if Jon Connington had the courage to pursue, these soldiers probably wouldn't have the guts to follow him out of the city.

So, the decision was made to hold the troops within Pentos.

Outside the city, among the sparse retreating Dothraki, Mago, with his white hair, sat on his warhorse, looking at the quiet city of Pentos. There was no sign of pursuit.

He sighed slightly.

He was not willing to accept defeat.

However, this was their only chance to take the city, but the city's defenders did not fall for it, and Mago had no other options.

He couldn't force Jon to pursue and walk into his trap. War itself was a process of deceit. If he couldn't deceive anyone, he would have to play it real.

After all, the Dragon Rider Khal, his Khaleesi, and their twenty thousand strong army were on their way, and they had cut off the Dothraki's retreat. The Dothraki could only break through towards Meereen.

Turn around and fight back?

But this idea only appeared in Mago's mind for a second.

He immediately thought of the giant creature that flew over his head that day, the pillar of fire that fell from the sky and hit the ground, and the countless clansmen who wailed in the flames.

"Better not."

Mago quickly shook his white head, driving this terrifying thought out of his mind.

"Let's retreat."

Then the old Khal sighed, turned his horse around, and spurred it on.

The horse moved towards the distance.

The Dothraki came quickly and left quickly, after all, they were a nomadic people.

And their camps were very simple. They took down what they could carry, and left behind what they couldn't, planning to loot others later.

Then, by evening.

The Dothraki had disappeared from the outskirts of Pentos.

"It seems that the Dothraki have truly retreated."

The Beggar Prince, who had been hiding in the repaired Prince's Palace for some time, finally came out.

During this period, the Beggar Prince had been very low-key, not leaving his palace, acting as if he didn't know that the Dothraki had besieged the city.

He was even less active than the nominal prince, who would at least climb the city walls to feign boosting morale during times of crisis.

But the Beggar Prince didn't really have the ability to boost morale, especially since everyone knew his current situation.

Regardless of whether he had been marginalized, he didn't have much real power in his hands, and he had seized the title of prince by force.

The mercenaries had committed many crimes on the Red Night,
not only against the ruling family, but also against many civilian families.

The common people couldn't distinguish between other mercenaries and the Windblown, so they blamed everything on the head of the mercenaries.

And now.

The Beggar Prince had also received news of the Dothraki's retreat and had suddenly come out for some reason.

He even personally went to the city wall to watch, looking at the retreating Dothraki with a complex expression.

"Your Highness, you don't seem too pleased?"

Jon Connington, standing next to him in armor, hand on his sword hilt, looked at him with an unmistakable expression of suspicion.

The old man with white hair heard the words of the actual ruler of Pentos, his face changed slightly, and he quickly shook his head.

"No."

"I'm glad the Dothraki have retreated. I just regret that I, an old man, didn't personally fight off these invaders."

"Is that so?"

Upon hearing the Beggar Prince's explanation, Jon Connington's eyebrows furrowed slightly, but he didn't say much.

As long as the Beggar Prince didn't bring about his own downfall, Viserys certainly wouldn't take action against him.

Jon had worked with King Viserys for a while and had a good understanding of his temperament.

He was clear about rewards and punishments. Those who did well were rewarded, and those who made mistakes were punished.

Since he had promised the Beggar Prince that he could become the prince of Pentos, Viserys would not go back on his word.

He certainly wouldn't use the Beggar Prince as a scapegoat for a lost battle, or some natural disaster, flood, earthquake, or famine.

Time passed quickly.

Two more days went by.

The Dothraki had retreated, and the reinforcements had finally arrived.

Pentos had kept its gates closed for the past few days, fearing that the Dothraki, who hadn't gone far, might suddenly return.

And two days later.

A mournful horn broke the silence in the city.

"What's happening?"

"Have the Dothraki come back?"

Many refugees in Pentos, whose homes had been destroyed by the Dothraki, had been driven to the foot of the city.

Jon had personally led the cavalry out to repel the Dothraki and escort these refugees into the city.

"Gods protect us!"

The horn outside the city reawakened the fear in the hearts of these poor refugees, who huddled in the corners of the city walls with their relief food, shivering.

But the soldiers on the city walls saw a scene completely different from what the refugees imagined.

There was a roar of cheers on the city walls of Pentos, and the soldiers embraced each other and laughed heartily.

"We've won!"

"We've defeated the Dothraki!"

Because they saw the flying figure in the distant sky.

Their king had three dragons.

This was something that other countries and city-states in the world could not have, and the soldiers of Pentos even took pride in it.

First-time visitors and merchants to Pentos also came with the purpose of seeing the legendary dragons.

However, it was hard to see the dragons.

After all, Balerion rarely stayed in Pentos for long, as it was too restrictive for him. The forests and the sea outside the city were its playground.

But the city gate guards of Pentos could boast to these inquiring visitors with pride, as if Viserys was a relative of their own.

A giant dragon flew in the distant sky, letting out a roar.

And on the horizon, the endless Targaryen army gradually came into view.

Chapter 278: Reinforcements Enter the City

The horn sounded melodiously.

A great army was at the city gates.

At the forefront, a Targaryen commander rode on horseback, one hand gripping the reins, his dark hair fluttering in the wind.

Myles watched as the gates of Pentos, which had been closed for a month and a half, finally rumbled open.

"Enter the city!"

With his command, he spurred his horse and led the way into the city.

The sound of armor rubbing against each other echoed, followed by the rhythmic footsteps of the soldiers.

The Targaryen army officially entered Pentos. Jon Connington and the Beggar Prince personally came to the city gate to welcome them.

The first to enter the city were knights clad in plate armor, their warhorses also covered in chainmail.

The heavy sound of hooves clattered on the cobblestone streets of the city. The winter temperature in Pentos was low, and white mist sprayed from the horses' robust nostrils.

The knights on horseback were resplendent in their armor, holding lances and shields, with long swords at their waists. They were fully armed, and their chest plates bore the conspicuous emblem of the three-headed dragon.

"Such elite soldiers," Jon Connington admired the Targaryen army entering the city, a look of envy in his eyes.

This army was even more elite than the royal army he had led to resist the usurpers when he was Hand of the King.

At that time, the Targaryen dynasty was on the verge of collapse, the nobles were unreliable, and the forces of the Riverlands were weak.

The Beggar Prince, who was standing next to Jon, looked at the Targaryen army entering the city, his expression becoming even more unpleasant.

He had an agreement with Viserys that once the plan succeeded, Pentos would belong to him, and Pentos would express its allegiance to the Targaryens as part of the kingdom.

However, just over half a year later, the city was gradually slipping out of his control.

There was no way around it.

The Beggar Prince didn't have the firm hand that Viserys did, and was forced to swallow his pride.

After all, whoever had the soldiers and generals had the greater say, and Viserys not only had these, but also dragons.

In fact, from the beginning, the Beggar Prince's expectations were unrealistic, even overly idealistic.

How could he, with just over two thousand Windblown, compete with Viserys, who had over thirty thousand soldiers at the time?

This had nothing to do with the level of skill, it was simply a gap in sheer power.

The Beggar Prince wanted to compete with the other party, but the other party could break his wrist with a single move.

If the Beggar Prince had been given some time to develop, it would have been better.

After all, Pentos had a large population and great development potential. The Beggar Prince held a large amount of wealth and could easily expand his army.

But unfortunately, after taking the city, Viserys never left Pentos.

As long as Viserys stayed in Pentos for a day, the Beggar Prince could only breathe through his nose and nod in agreement.

So he missed the best and only opportunity for development, and fell to his current state.

There was unwillingness and anger in his heart.

However, facing these soldiers with faces full of killing intent and arrogance, the Beggar Prince reined in his temper.

He had led soldiers for half his life, and naturally, he could tell that these soldiers were a victorious army.

Not only were they resplendent
in their armor and equipped with fine weapons, but these soldiers also carried an air of victory, their faces full of confidence. Such an aura was hard to come by unless they were a victorious army.

Viserys had such an army, indeed, it was not something he could contend with.

His Windblown would shatter at the touch of such an army.

What's more, the Windblown had now slipped out of his control, and even his right-hand men, Denzo D'han and Caggo, were gradually disobeying his commands.

The Beggar Prince watched as one elite unit after another passed by him, then heaved a sigh of resignation.

And it wasn't just Jon and the Beggar Prince.

The Pentos city guards on the city walls and the common people in the city were also lining the streets to watch the Targaryen army enter the city. It could be said that the streets were deserted.

These Targaryen soldiers, bearing the banner of the three-headed dragon and their fine equipment, made the city guards salivate.

They thought their own equipment was good enough, but they didn't expect that their King was even more willing to spend money on his own army.

And the common people of Pentos, as well as the refugees who had come here, also welcomed them along the way.

Although Pentos had changed hands for half a year, this was the first time the citizens of Pentos had seen the Targaryen family's army enter the city.

Apart from the over two hundred personal guards that Viserys had brought into the city initially, the rest of the army still maintained the old system.

Viserys kept his agreement with the Beggar Prince, and the Targaryen army did not enter Pentos.

But now, Viserys took advantage of the war to have the army lift the siege of Pentos and station in the city.

This was also one of the reasons why the Beggar Prince looked so upset just now.

"What a powerful army."

"No wonder they were able to defeat those terrifying Dothraki."

The citizens of Pentos were discussing among themselves, awed by the military might of the Targaryen family.

"May the gods bless us."

"May the King reclaim his throne."

And some people prayed to the gods out of gratitude.

"Huh? Cook? Weren't you calling the King a murderer half a year ago?"

One neighbor recognized the man who was praying.

Half a year ago, after the Red Night, he cursed the current King as a murderer, killing the magisters of Pentos.

If it weren't for the magisters monopolizing all industries, where would he have gotten his job?

This was his blessing.

But his 'father' was burned to death by the tyrant's dragon fire.

But the neighbor didn't expect that just half a year later, Cook, who once hated Viserys to the bone, was now praying for the Targaryen army.

"Don't you dare talk nonsense!"

However, Cook, dressed in a gray robe, was startled by his neighbor's words.

He quickly looked around and found that no one was paying attention, then he let out a sigh of relief and snorted.

"Hmph—"

"What do you know?"

"The King killed those blood-sucking magisters, lifted the restrictions on all industries, and we were able to earn more wealth."

The magisters who monopolized every aspect of Pentos, along with their families, were wiped out, leaving a huge gap in these once monopolized industries.

And while Viserys confiscated the magisters' assets, he didn't continue the monopoly.

Instead, he sold them off at a discount to stimulate economic recovery in a short period of time.

Cook, having worked for a magister and learned the trade, managed to open a small shop three months ago.

His income now was many times what he earned when he was working for the magister.

It was a bit more stressful, but Cook was genuinely grateful to Viserys for creating these opportunities.

"The King is truly a wise ruler."

"Long live the King!"

Chapter 279: The City Empties

No one paid attention to the two ordinary city dwellers who were praising their king.

After the Targaryen army entered the city, Jon Connington, who was at the gate to welcome them, quickly noticed that Viserys did not seem to have entered the city with them.

His heart skipped a beat, but then he saw a green dragon, smaller than Balerion but still massive compared to a human, flying back.

The shadow of Rhaegal loomed over the ground, its scales were of ancient bronze, like moss in the forest at dusk, reflecting light like jade.

Its horns, wing bones, and crest were golden, while its teeth and claws were black. Its bronze eyes were brighter than a polished shield, glowing due to its own heat.

"Roar—"

Rhaegal let out a melodious roar that echoed far and wide, flying directly towards the Nine Towers Palace by the sea.

"What is..."

The people of Pentos also heard the dragon's roar, looking up at the sky. They only then realized that the returning dragon was not the massive black dragon.

"This... is not His Majesty's mount."

"Which princess is this?"

A man with grey-red hair stood at the city gate, taking a few steps forward, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun, looking up at the departing dragon.

He was slightly taken aback.

Jon had seen a dragon's silhouette in the sky from a great distance on the city wall.

He thought it was Viserys returning victorious, but he didn't expect this dragon to not be Balerion.

He knew of the Targaryen family's three dragons, apart from Balerion, which Viserys rode, the other two belonged to two princesses.

One was the 'Mother of Dragons', who personally hatched the dragon, the king's own sister, Princess Daenerys Targaryen.

The other was Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the eldest daughter of Prince Rhaegar from the previous dynasty.

Due to age and other complex considerations, Viserys even ignored seniority, directly appointing Rhaenys as the eldest princess of the new dynasty.

When Viserys made this decision, no one came out to refute it.

This indirectly demonstrated the king's strong position within the new dynasty.

If Viserys was still sitting on the Iron Throne in Westeros today, making such a decision would probably immediately provoke opposition from a large number of conservatives.

The old scholars of Oldtown, the archbishops of the Starry Sept, and a large number of others.

They would immediately jump out, accusing the king of ignoring seniority and the order of age.

Because as a tradition of Westeros, if it is easily touched, it will affect the interests of many people.

They would all become obstacles to Viserys' gradual reform.

Testing the waters.

However, here in Andalos, the birthplace of the new dynasty.

No one dared to oppose the decision made by Viserys, his position was very strong, it was not the time when he was young and controlled by others.

After appointing Rhaenys, Viserys began the path of reform in a big way.

Founding monarchs often have such strong characteristics.

And now, the entire Targaryen actually depends on him alone.

This is why his enemies want to put Viserys to death, resorting to any despicable means.

Because assassinating Rhaenys or Daenerys cannot shake the foundation of this new dynasty.

Although Viserys values his two 'sisters' very much, he himself is the core after all.

The entry of the Targaryen army into the city caused a sensation, and Rhaenys riding Rhaegal into the city caused a mass exodus.

Viserys, who did not return with the army, was not missing. He was now soaring in the clouds on the back of Balerion.

"He's hiding well."

Viserys was looking at the endless Dothraki below, trying to discern their Khal from the crowd.

However, their Khal was very cunning, fully learning from the painful lessons of Khal Jhaqo and Khal Moro.

They hid in the crowd like a drop of water in the sea, inconspicuous. Viserys couldn't find their trace no matter how hard he tried.

Viserys was now riding a dragon, tracking the escape route of the Dothraki, fearing that they would feint an attack.

Although he was somewhat prepared, the sudden retreat of the Dothraki still caught Viserys off guard.

After all, fifty thousand Dothraki were still a powerful force. He had been ready to fight, but he didn't expect them to slip away without a word.

Viserys then had Oberyn and Rhaenys lead the army to Pentos to stabilize the situation.

Taking this opportunity, he stationed the Targaryen army in the city, replacing the previous incompetent defense team.

He continued to chase the Dothraki along their retreat route, driving them away from the vicinity of Pentos.

Otherwise, the Dothraki, with their mobility, could feint an attack or make a surprise attack, which would be unbearable.

After all, most of the Targaryen army were infantry, and they were heavily armored. Two legs could never run faster than four, and the enemy could come and go without a trace.

Only two people in the Targaryen army could do this job, one was Viserys and the other was Rhaenys.

Viserys did not trust Rhaenys to chase the enemy alone on a dragon.

He even feared that the girl would lose her way in the sky. If there were troops on the ground, it would be fine.

Without landmarks, who knows where this silly girl would fly following the Dothraki, and whether she could find her way back.

Therefore, this job fell on Viserys alone. Although the war was over, he was still chasing the Dothraki alone on a dragon.

He would occasionally swoop down and breathe fire, driving the Dothraki to keep running.

Whoosh~

The shadow of the dragon loomed over the ground, Balerion stretched his neck, spread his wings, and let out a roar.

Below was the thunderous sound of a stampede.

Boom, boom, boom—

"Hey!"

Shouts in Dothraki came from time to time.

All the Dothraki under the shadow of the dragon were desperately driving their warhorses, panic-stricken, fearing that a breath of dragon fire would fall on their heads.

Viserys was chasing fifty thousand Dothraki on a dragon alone, but they had no way to fight back.

Arrows couldn't penetrate the dragon's scales.

And the ballistae that could penetrate the dragon's defenses had been left in Pentos, because carrying such siege weapons was not conducive to escape.

Chapter 280: Expulsion

The Dothraki had discarded the siege crossbows, which were now a windfall for the Targaryen army.

As for the Braavosi who had helped them build siege weapons in their tribes, they were detained by the Khals without a second thought.

This expedition had not only brought no benefits to the Dothraki, but also caused significant losses.

The several hundred Braavosi craftsmen and soldiers were sold as slaves as compensation.

As for whether the Braavosi would retaliate...

Retaliate?

The Dothraki had never feared retaliation. If the Braavosi dared, they could come to Vaes Dothrak to settle the score.

The three Khals were firm on this issue, betraying their allies without remorse, then dusting off their hands and leaving.

The Dothraki feared Viserys because he had dragons.

But there was nothing to fear from Braavos. Their invincible fleet couldn't sail to the Dothraki Sea.

Boom—

Then, a dazzling pillar of fire descended from the sky.

It engulfed countless fleeing Dothraki and their horses.

The screams of horror rose again. With the dragon's flight, the pillar of fire split the Dothraki formation, cutting through it like a knife through the sea, leaving a deep scar on the vast land.

Then the dragon spread its wings again, stirring up a gale as it soared into the sky, its deep roar echoing from the heights.

Rumble—

On the ground, the horses were still galloping.

Many Dothraki who had narrowly escaped death looked up.

They saw a massive figure weaving through the clouds, flying into the distance.

Viserys had left.

He had chased the Dothraki for hundreds of miles, setting fire to and killing many Dothraki warriors, driving them towards Meereen.

It wasn't that Viserys had a grudge against Meereen, or that he did it intentionally.

The Dothraki had chosen to run in that direction, and he had no choice but to chase them, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

Meanwhile, on the ground...

"The Dragon Rider Khal has finally left!"

Countless Dothraki on the ground saw the dragon's figure receding into the clouds and breathed a sigh of relief.

This battle had truly frightened them. The warriors of the plains, though brave and unafraid of death, could not face such an insurmountable opponent.

They had never thought that in this era of curved swords and bows, they would face the problem of air superiority.

The existence of the dragon was like the Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.

At any moment, it could descend and reap their lives, and they had no way to fight back. This greatly damaged the Dothraki's morale.

Not fearing death doesn't mean they want to die.

But there was nothing they could do about it.

"He's finally gone."

The three Khals, disguised as ordinary tribesmen and hiding within their khalasars, along with their bloodriders, saw Viserys's receding figure and breathed a sigh of relief, followed by a deep sense of humiliation.

When had they ever suffered such humiliation, being chased like dogs?

"Both of you."

"Are we... just going back like this?"

After a long silence, Khal Pono was the first to speak.

His voice carried a hint of unwillingness and resentment.

They had decided to attack Pentos after receiving a large amount of gold, silver, and jewels from Braavos, who had brokered the deal.

They thought Pentos was still as weak as before, and a little fight would have them offering large amounts of gold for peace. But they hadn't expected
to hit a steel wall this time.

Over eighty thousand Dothraki warriors swore on the Mother Mountain, with the stars in the sky as their witnesses, to march on Pentos. But they were beaten badly, lost two Khals, and had to flee in disgrace.

If they returned to the Dothraki Sea like this, the three Khals - Khal Moro, Khal Jhaqo, and Khal Pono - would become the laughingstock of the Great Grass Sea.

Khal Pono, who was straightforward and outspoken, took the initiative to speak. Khal Jhaqo glanced at him, his eyes flickering but he remained silent. Then all eyes fell on Khal Moro.

Although his khalasar was not large, the old Khal was the leader of this allied army because of his rich experience.

Moreover, Khal Pono and Khal Jhaqo were enemies and neither would allow the other to be the leader, so they had to let Khal Moro take the lead.

The elderly Khal, hearing Khal Pono's words, pondered for a moment.

Then he looked up at the distance.

They were currently on a raised hill in the great plains, and looking far away, they could see a hint of azure where the sky met the sea.

They had already fled to the vicinity of the Meereen Sea. Ahead of them was the territory of Meereen, one of the Free Cities.

There were many towns and villages around Meereen, and Meereen itself was extremely wealthy.

Khal Moro pondered for a moment, then spoke.

"Poison Water is ahead."

He had his bloodrider bring him a map to explain their current location.

Once they bypassed the lake that flowed into the Meereen Sea, they could reach Meereen. Then the old Khal continued.

"Since we're here..."

"We should take something back to the Great Grass Sea, shouldn't we?"

Upon hearing his words, Khal Pono and Khal Jhaqo immediately understood.

When it came to looting, the Dothraki were quite adept. They could understand each other with just a glance.

"Agreed!"

"No problem!"

Khal Pono and Khal Jhaqo both immediately nodded in agreement, surprisingly in harmony for once.

Then, following the command of the bloodriders...

The Dothraki, who had been fleeing in disarray for a long time, once again rallied their spirits and blew their war horns.

Woo—

The sound of galloping hooves shook the earth.

The Dothraki, who had lost thousands in the war and were now only a little over forty thousand, were now marching towards Meereen in a grand procession.

They decided to take what they should have gotten from Pentos from Meereen instead.

The council of Magisters in Meereen, composed of wealthy merchants and local nobles, had no idea of the disaster that was about to befall them.

Meereen was still bustling, completely unaware that over forty thousand Dothraki, like demons from hell, were marching towards them.

Meanwhile, in distant Pentos...

Rhaenys had met her cousin for the first time, Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne.

Their uncle, Prince Oberyn, had made the introduction.

"She is the daughter of your aunt Elia, your cousin."

"The current Princess Regent, Rhaenys Targaryen."

Chapter 281: Dismissal

The golden spear emblem on his chest, a symbol of his clan, and the sword and shield medal of a legion commander, reflected a dazzling golden light under the sun.

The Targaryen army had officially entered the city, taking over the streets and city wall defenses of Pentos.

Jon Connington, who once held significant sway in Pentos, never expected the Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell, whom he had heard so much about but was meeting for the first time, to be so assertive.

Upon arrival, Oberyn immediately relieved Jon of all his duties, not allowing Jon to voice any objections.

Because Jon's current position in the new dynasty was merely as a personal advisor to Viserys, without any formal duties.

As a legion commander with the golden sword and shield medal, Oberyn's position was second only to Count Joffrey, who was nominally the Hand of the King, and of course, King Viserys.

However, Joffrey, who had once made great contributions to the Targaryen family and protected Queen Rhaella and her children, was now old and rarely involved in affairs, except for staying in Andalos.

Therefore, Oberyn could be said to be second only to one person and above all others. The other legion commander, Bessie, was on the same level as him, but Bessie seemed not to be fond of meddling in politics. When Oberyn dismissed Jon, she did not intervene, just quietly watched everything.

She knew that Oberyn was not causing trouble, but simply did not trust Jon.

Oberyn naturally knew about the former Count of Griffin's Roost and Hand of the King, Jon Connington, who had lost the 'Battle of the Bells'.

However, Oberyn's distrust of Jon was not because he had lost a battle, but because Jon had brought a young Aegon to pledge allegiance to Viserys. Although Aegon was nominally his sister's son, his nephew, no one could confirm this.

With Oberyn's intelligence, having earned six maester's chains in the Citadel, he naturally thought there was a high possibility of something fishy about this matter.

He loved his sister very much, so he hated it when people used her child's name for their own purposes.

Aegon was dead.

He was killed by that villain named Gregor Clegane, nicknamed 'The Mountain'. Oberyn would personally judge him.

However, the first thing he did after arriving in Pentos was not to see The Mountain, because he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to resist torturing him to death on the spot.

Then he controlled his emotions, dismissed Jon first, and then introduced his cousins, Arianne and Rhaenys, to each other.

Now, the power of Pentos had been transferred to this man in less than half a day.

The Beggar Prince never expected that he hadn't even dealt with Jon Connington yet, and a more assertive Oberyn had arrived, directly dismissing Jon.

The old man of the Windblown felt that he had a belly full of bitterness with nowhere to vent.

"She is the eldest daughter of your uncle, Prince Doran, Princess Arianne."

At this moment, Oberyn had already taken off his armor, wearing a gorgeous and fitting sandy yellow nobleman's attire. His black, shiny hair was tied back, mixed with a few strands of white, tied into a short braid.

He looked at Rhaenys on his left, the girl was in full armor, a bright and fitting female armor.

Her brown hair fell on the cold armor, a jeweled short sword was worn around her waist, her dark eyes
were bright, making her look heroic.

Although Rhaenys was a few years younger and smaller than Arianne, her recent departure from the battlefield gave her an imposing aura when she was in armor.

Then Oberyn turned his head to look at his niece on his right. Compared to Rhaenys, Arianne looked more like a noble princess.

Arianne had a great figure, beautiful, and every move she made was filled with feminine charm, attracting all the male gazes.

Arianne was wearing a long sandy yellow dress, similar to Oberyn's attire, both were filled with a strong Dornish style.

The two girls looked at each other.

Then Arianne, as the older cousin, showed more grace. She was the first to show a proper smile, then reached out to hold her sister's hand.

"Rhaenys, my sister."

"I heard your name from Uncle a long time ago, you're even more beautiful than I imagined."

Arianne took Rhaenys' cold, steel-covered hand, then gently hugged the brown-haired girl in front of her.

She had indeed heard her father Doran and Uncle Oberyn mention this name many times, because this was the daughter her Aunt Elia left behind.

Rhaenys also gently hugged the strange girl in front of her. She had known for a long time that she had a cousin, and for various complicated reasons, she had to marry her 'brother'.

Although Rhaenys felt a bit uncomfortable, she was born into the Targaryen royal family.

And often had to take the lead, she was destined to be more mature than other girls her age. She understood that this was a condition Viserys could not refuse.

So even though she felt a little uncomfortable, she wouldn't be willful.

And the other party was also her relative, a cousin connected by blood.

"I'm glad to meet you, sister."

"You're also very beautiful."

Rhaenys also spoke.

The atmosphere was harmonious when the sisters met for the first time.

Oberyn, standing on the side, had been observing the expressions on the faces of these two cousins, then he let out a sigh of relief.

Arianne was to be Viserys' queen in the future, and Rhaenys had a very good relationship with Viserys.

When she spoke, Viserys would really listen.

Therefore, how these two girls, who both have Martell blood, get along is very important for the stability of the Targaryen dynasty's harem and the interests of Dorne.

"Is this your first time in Pentos, Rhaenys?"

Then the two girls started chatting, their conversation clearly didn't need Oberyn's intervention.

Arianne was very smart, the prettier the girl, the smarter.

From the moment she had not met Rhaenys, she knew she had to get along well with this girl, which was very important for her to consolidate her future position.

Therefore, when she first saw Rhaenys, she naturally showed her enthusiasm.

Soon Arianne was going to take Rhaenys for a walk around the palace.

And visit a few famous spots in the city of Pentos, the Red Temple, the museum, etc.

People in Pentos love art and have many precious paintings and sculptures.

And she was going to have Rhaenys taste Pentos' most famous specialties, the exquisitely made cakes, and the white amber wine.

Rhaenys naturally agreed, but the prerequisite for going out was to first take off the light armor she was wearing.

Arianne had already arranged a room for Rhaenys, right next to her own.

Then the two girls walked deeper into the palace.

Chapter 282: Two Months

Several days later.

Viserys, riding his dragon, returned to Pentos.

The entire city was now immersed in a celebratory atmosphere.

This was the only war Pentos had experienced in the eighty to ninety years since the last conflict between Braavos and Pentos.

Moreover, it was the first victory in nearly two centuries.

The people of Pentos, their spirit broken by Braavos, had never imagined they could win a war again.

Therefore, this victory over the Dothraki invaders, driving these raiders away, greatly boosted the morale of the city.

The citizens celebrated enthusiastically, and the refugees whose homes had been destroyed by the Dothraki were gradually returning to their hometowns.

Everyone was grateful to the Targaryen family, who had defeated the Dothraki, and there was even public discussion about adding the title of Prince of Pentos to King Viserys.

Andal, Rhoynar, and First Men, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, Lord of Andalos, Prince of Pentos, the 'True Dragon' Viserys Targaryen III, crowned by the Seven.

Viserys' title was now so long. 'Crowned by the Seven' was a title he had publicly proclaimed, so it was naturally added to his official title, representing the faith of the Seven.

Among other religious beliefs, followers of the Red God proclaimed Viserys to be the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, who would wield 'Lightbringer' to dispel the darkness and save the world.

Later, for some reason, it was propagated that he was the son of R'hllor, the Lord of Light, and he was eventually referred to as 'the Sun's Son' or 'the Sun's King'.

The Rhoynar, on the other hand, believe in all living creatures. They believe that Viserys has received the 'blessing of the Holy Spirit', which is why he can win every battle.

Among the common folk, Viserys also has titles such as 'Wise King', and the Dothraki have given him the title of 'Dragon Rider Khal'.

However, none of these are included in his official title, they are merely circulated among the people.

As for this, the ragged prince still hides in the Prince's Palace, acting as a mascot, indifferent to the voices outside.

Soon after Viserys returned to Pentos, he quickly heard about Jon being relieved of his duties.

However, he just nodded, not saying much, Oberyn was acting within the rules.

But that night, Viserys still called Jon over and acknowledged his merits in person.

After all, Jon had commanded the defense of Pentos, preventing the Dothraki from taking the city, and he hadn't been fooled afterwards. He had also managed logistics and supplies during this time, making significant contributions.

Therefore, Viserys temporarily appointed him as a member of the Small Council, as Master of Laws. He has the right to attend important meetings, which is a formal position.

Jon's command of the few thousand Pentos guards, temporarily replaced by the Targaryen army, would not be easily dismissed by Oberyn as before.

At the same time, Viserys also rewarded Ramsay, who had distinguished himself in the Night of Blood and the subsequent war with the Dothraki.

Viserys did not discriminate against him because of his status as a bastard, treating everyone equally.

However, Ramsay's merits were not enough to be promoted to Master of Whisperers, to sit in the Small Council.

Therefore, Viserys just expanded the staff of the 'Department of the Interior', giving Ramsay more soldiers, training him to work as a national intelligence officer.

In this war, all the soldiers who had made contributions, and all the people who had worked hard behind the scenes, received their due rewards.

The twenty thousand Dothraki screamers who were captured in the Battle of the Eyrie also surrendered to their 'True Dragon Khal', sincerely expressing their willingness to become members of the True Dragon Khalasar.

The dragon had killed their Khal, but it had also conquered these Dothraki who had surrendered.

And Viserys had also reaped the greatest spoils of this war.

Twenty thousand surrendered Dothraki meant twenty thousand light cavalrymen who came with their own horses, were excellent riders, and didn't require wages. They were willing to follow Viserys as long as they were fed and housed.

This was almost like a pie falling from the sky, and Viserys was very pleased, subsequently officially incorporating them.

However, such a large number of Dothraki were a potential threat wherever they were, and it was not easy to divide them.

These surrendered Dothraki were willing to obey the Dragon Rider Khal's orders, but they would not possibly obey the commands of other commanders like Bessie or Oberyn.

Because they only surrendered to Viserys, or rather, to those who could ride dragons.

Daenerys, who could also ride a dragon, was naturally included.

With no other choice, since the Dothraki couldn't be easily divided, Viserys decided to command them himself.

Then, in the southeast direction of Pentos, on the endless plains, he found a place suitable for them to settle.

Since they had chosen to surrender to the True Dragon Khal, they naturally couldn't continue their nomadic lifestyle.

Viserys had these Dothraki build a simple town on this lush plain, similar to Vaes Dothrak.

It was mostly made of wood and straw, with stones used in places that needed reinforcement.

Although it was rather shabby, it was built by their own hands, and the Dothraki didn't mind.

After all, even the shabbiest house was better than their nomadic days of sleeping in tents or on the ground.

Then.

Time passed quickly.

In the blink of an eye, more than two months had passed.

August.

The economic level of Pentos was rapidly recovering, even surpassing the level before the Night of Blood.

The siege by the Dothraki had not caused much damage to the city of Pentos.

Most of the past half year was actually spent repairing the damage caused by the turmoil of the Night of Blood.

However, under Viserys' stimulating policies and the disappearance of monopolies, the economy of Pentos was showing a rare prosperity.

The stagnant water that had been under the rule of the Magisters had now completely revived, bursting with vitality.

The economy quickly recovered to its pre-turbulence level and was still rapidly progressing.

And a month before this.

A news as shocking as an earthquake had reached Pentos.

That was the forty thousand Dothraki soldiers who had been defeated by Pentos and had fled to the vicinity of Myr. They pretended to prepare to return to the Dothraki Sea, demanding a high 'protection fee' from passing Myrish.

However, they suddenly launched an attack, the forty thousand Dothraki seized the gates of Myr and flooded into this bustling trade city-state.

The governing council of Myr hastily organized soldiers to resist.

But the Golden Company, which had always been 'as good as gold', tore up their contract and led their mercenaries to escape from Myr, heading towards Volantis.

Therefore.

Myr experienced a massacre that was a hundred times more terrifying than the Night of Blood.

Chapter 283: The Tragedy of Myr

Over forty thousand Dothraki screamers suddenly attacked and seized Myr. The three Khals then ordered their men to indulge in three days of unrestrained pillaging, burning, and killing. It seemed as if they were venting all the grievances they had suffered in Pentos on the city of Myr.

Myr, a bustling trade city-state known for its excellent craftsmanship, experienced its worst nightmare in these three days. It was a horror that was almost unimaginable, a terror that made one's soul shudder.

The sky over Myr was constantly shrouded in the thick smoke of burning flames. Day and night were both dark as pitch, and even the fiercest sea breeze could not disperse the smoke. The burning flames painted the entire sky a bloody red.

Beneath the flames and thick smoke, the Dothraki swung their butcher's knives at will. They broke into the homes of noble families and ordinary citizens of Myr, committed atrocities in the streets, and then beheaded their victims. The fires set by the Dothraki in Myr burned for a full half month without extinguishing.

The air in the city-state was filled with the nauseating smell of blood, apart from the pervasive gunpowder smoke. After their bloody massacre, countless heads of Myrish citizens were cast into monuments and placed in the streets and alleys of Myr, their faces twisted in terror.

Every household was looted and burned, leaving nothing behind. Only a few who had hidden well, and children not taller than a cart wheel, were spared. A large number of young men and women were captured and enslaved.

Even the Magister's Palace on the hill was occupied by the Dothraki. The guards held out for three days before they fell. All the soldiers were beheaded, and the Magisters who didn't manage to escape were hanged in the palace.

Their bodies were only found several days after the Dothraki left, by adventurers who dared to venture into the city. By then, their bodies had fallen to the ground and were already rotting.

Myr had experienced an unimaginable horror, almost completely destroyed in the Dothraki's wild feast.

After the Dothraki had pillaged, burned, and captured a large number of slaves in Myr, they finally left, satisfied, carrying a vast amount of treasure and slaves, heading back towards the Dothraki Sea.

They planned to sell these Myrish people in the Slaver's Bay, east of the Dothraki Sea.

The horrifying nightmare that Myr had experienced caused a huge uproar among the free trade city-states in the west. It was like a magnitude nine earthquake, causing an explosive sensation.

No one had expected such a thing to happen. The Dothraki, after being defeated in Pentos, had suddenly attacked Myr, killing all the people in the city.

This was almost unimaginable to the nobles of the free trade city-states, who were primarily engaged in exchanges of interest. Although they had committed acts of extermination, they had never committed such a heinous act of city slaughter.

It was only then that people seemed to remember that the Dothraki, in the long course of history, were just 'barbarians' who had just left their homeland.

The story of the Kingdom of Sarnor seemed to be playing out again.

"What? Viserys was also shocked when he received this news in Pentos. He had not expected such a thing to happen at all. Myr, a powerful trade city-state, had been sneak attacked and occupied by the Dothraki.

Pentos was close to Myr, so Viserys received the news faster than other forces, except for the former members of the 'Kingdom of the Three Daughters'.

Subsequently, Viserys personally rode his dragon to Myr. However, by the time Viserys landed in Myr, riding Balerion and passing through the thick smoke that shrouded the sky above the city, the Dothraki had already left. All that remained were the ruins of the city, ravaged by slaughter and destruction.

The surviving citizens of Myr and the children who had luckily escaped the massacre looked at Viserys, who descended from the sky, with hollow and numb eyes. Their gaze even made Viserys feel a chill.

"Hell on earth—" Viserys thought, looking at the scene before him.

"These damned murderers."

Afterward, Viserys felt somewhat heavy-hearted and did not stay. He had learned of the situation here, then rode his dragon back to Pentos.

What happened in Myr could not be blamed on Viserys. After all, they had only defeated the invading enemy. The enemy had been driven away and turned to attack Myr. If Pentos had fallen, the outcome would not have been much better than Myr's.

The once glorious Kingdom of Sarnor was a vivid example, now completely wiped off the map. The reason was the Dothraki invasion of their country, destroying city after city.

The capital of the Kingdom of Sarnor, Saath, once known as the 'City of a Thousand Towers', is now called 'Vaes Qevir' in the Dothraki language, meaning 'City of Worms'.

Kasath, the 'City of Caravans', is now called 'Vaes Graddakh', meaning 'City of Broken Gods'.

There are also Vaes Leqse, the 'City of Rats', Vaes Graddakh, the 'City of Filth', and so on. These cities, named in the Dothraki language, were all places destroyed by the Dothraki, even insulted as cities of rats, diseases, and parasites.

Now, Myr is the city newly destroyed by the Dothraki.

Now, after the massacre in Myr, almost two months have passed. Apart from a few major trade city-states each organizing a fleet to enter the ruins, Pentos did not send anyone in because Viserys had personally been there.

Viserys was considering the next direction of development. The situation in Myr is complicated now, with various forces getting involved. It can be said to be a mixed bag.

The armies of Tyrosh and Lys were the first to enter the ruins, controlling a part of the city. Due to the situation, some minor conflicts broke out between the two sides, resulting in bloodshed.

Then, not to be outdone, the Triarchs of Volantis also sent their Tiger Cloaks to station in Myr. The tense Tyroshi and Lysene forces, upon seeing the Volantenes, immediately united against the common enemy.

Then it was heard that the Braavosi also sent a fleet, bringing a large amount of relief supplies just entered Myr.

At the same time, there were rumors that a group of black-robed emissaries from Qohor, who worship the Black Goat, seemed to have caught wind of the situation. They wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to hold a bloody sacrifice in Myr, although they claimed their reason was to help the dead pass on. After all, the Black Goat is also one of the gods of death.

Of course, these believers were not trying to harvest the souls of the deceased to offer to their god.

The situation in Myr was too complicated, so Viserys did not intervene. He was still considering the previous question of whether to focus on Braavos or Westeros next.

However, just at this critical moment, a messenger from Braavos arrived.

Chapter 284: The Wall Collapses

The footsteps outside the great hall were clear.

Thud, thud, thud.

A man in a simple grey robe with short hair hurriedly entered the Nine Towers Palace.

Viserys was sitting on the throne, quietly waiting.

"Your Majesty."

The envoy from Braavos entered the palace and immediately bowed upon seeing the silver-haired young man on the throne.

Of course, the envoy from Braavos came with intentions of reconciliation.

The power of House Targaryen was growing rapidly, and a full-scale war with the Targaryens did not align with Braavos' interests.

Therefore, the envoy from Braavos brought a ship full of gold, silver, and jewels, of considerable value, to Viserys, hoping to ease the relationship between the two parties.

However, the envoy from Braavos did not come to Pentos primarily to smooth over relations.

Although many people knew the truth, no one had directly exposed it.

The Braavosi should bear a significant responsibility for the massacre in Meereen.

After all, it was the Dothraki, hired by Braavos, who attacked Pentos.

However, the Dothraki were repelled in Pentos, lost the battle, and turned to attack Meereen, where they carried out a large-scale massacre.

But the Braavosi were unwilling to take this responsibility, and even less willing to be nailed to the pillar of historical shame, so they naturally refused to admit these crimes.

Behind closed doors, it was about easing relations.

But when the doors were opened, Braavos claimed to the outside world that it was to celebrate the upcoming sixteenth nameday of King Viserys III Targaryen.

At the same time, it was also a gift for his coming-of-age ceremony.

Viserys' nameday was on the twenty-fourth of September, and a grand celebration would be held in Pentos.

With the rapid rise of Targaryen power on the continent of Essos, Viserys' coming-of-age ceremony was bound to be grand.

All parties, whether hostile or friendly, did not miss this opportunity for exchange, and envoys were sent in advance, now on their way to Pentos.

Although there had been minor disagreements in the past, the bearded monks had a decent relationship with the Targaryens due to their help in extinguishing the wildfire in Norvos, so they sent an envoy.

And although Qohor was far from the king, they also sent people to join in the fun and discuss trade-related issues.

After the fall of Meereen, the stability of the 'Three Sisters Kingdom' collapsed, and Lys and Tyrosh are now at odds, with a war-ready posture.

Therefore, both city-states hope to win the support of the Targaryens for their sovereignty over the disputed territories, and to guard against the once again restless Volantis, for which both city-states are also full of sincerity.

The proud Volantis also sent an envoy.

Although there had been deep contradictions between the two houses.

As the self-proclaimed 'eldest daughter of Valyria', Volantis once wanted to join forces with the Targaryens to conquer the continent of Essos and recreate the Freehold.

However, they were rejected by the then Targaryen clan leader, the 'Conqueror' Aegon, and then Volantis' army began to attack Tyrosh, and the war officially broke out.

Aegon rode his dragon into the war, defeated Volantis' army, and thus the two sides became enemies.

But now Volantis is gradually declining, and the Targaryens have also been exiled to the continent of Essos.

The elephant party, which is currently in power in Volantis, seems to want to put aside past grievances and reconnect with the Targaryens.

Therefore, they also came with a lot of sincerity and excellent negotiators.

Even a prince from the distant Summer Islands, from the Isle of Zal, has arrived.

His fate was very similar to Viserys'. He had dark skin, wore a feathered cloak, and was Prince Jalabhar Xho, who came from King's Landing.

There was still a month left until the king's coming-of-age ceremony.

However, many delegations had already gathered in Pentos in a short period of time, and many more were still on their way.

But one thing happened after another.

Just as Viserys was still considering whether or not to fall out with Braavos...

After all, such major directional matters must be thought through carefully, and they are definitely not decisions that can be made on a whim.

And with the continuous occurrence of wars, Viserys also had to consider the soldiers' war-weariness and morale.

At this time, another major event happened on the other side of the Narrow Sea in Westeros.

...

An urgent piece of intelligence was rushed into Viserys' hands.

This intelligence came from Westeros, and the content was very simple.

It was basically about the breakdown of negotiations between the Free Folk and the Baratheon dynasty, and the King Beyond the Wall blowing the legendary Horn of Winter.

Then a section of the Wall collapsed, and hundreds of thousands of Free Folk poured into the North.

That night, it seemed that King Robert was drunk and did not stay in Castle Black, but instead went to Mole's Town for the night.

Upon hearing the news, Duke Eddard Stark of Winterfell led a team of guards to leave the Wall to find Robert, leaving only Duke Stannis in Castle Black.

That night, Castle Black collapsed, and the Free Folk poured in. It was unclear whether the unfortunate Stannis was alive or dead.

Some said that Stannis broke out from the center with the desperate protection of the soldiers, while others said he was simply crushed to death by the rocks.

The situation at the time was very chaotic, and the person who delivered this intelligence could not explain clearly, and many were hearsay.

However, the fact that a small section of the Wall collapsed and hundreds of thousands of Free Folk poured into the North was indeed true.

Now the entire North is in chaos, and except for the nobles who have castles, everyone living outside the cities and the farmers are all in danger.

Several villages have already suffered the tragedy of being massacred by the Free Folk.

However, it is said that King Robert and Duke Eddard are both unharmed.

They were not at the Wall that night, so they quickly organized the remnants and launched a counterattack against the Free Folk.

The so-called hundreds of thousands of Free Folk did not have much combat power, and were quickly defeated by the regular army that had recovered.

However, these victories did not help to alleviate the current chaos in the North.

After all, there were too many Free Folk, and too few regular soldiers.

Hundreds of thousands of Free Folk running around, burning, killing, looting, and causing destruction, it's not easy to catch them all so quickly, even if they were hundreds of thousands of pigs.

And Robert's allied army was too small, and organizing soldiers to run around chasing the Free Folk, they couldn't catch them all, and even suffered several ambushes by the Free Folk, losing many soldiers.

When Viserys saw the intelligence in his hand, he was almost shocked beyond words.

He did not expect the situation in Westeros to suddenly undergo such a dramatic change, even more shocking to him than the destruction of Meereen.

What surprised him even more was that the legendary Horn of Winter actually worked.

In his memory, wasn't this thing broken?

It was later found by Ghost, Jon Snow's direwolf, during the Night's Watch expedition.

Then it was blown a few times but didn't sound, and was subsequently taken to the Citadel by Samwell Tarly.

Chapter 285: Building the Fleet

The Wall of Desperation has collapsed.

The tremors it caused for Westeros were no less impactful than the slaughter in Myr for Essos.

After all, the two continents are separated by a vast sea, and by the time Viserys received this news, it was already quite late. The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms had learned of it even earlier than Viserys.

It was only then that they realized... things had become complicated.

Due to the limitations of information transmission tools in this era, it takes time for important news to spread.

However, the reality is that important information often has a strong time sensitivity.

Viserys held the heavy intelligence report in his hand, his face solemn, showing no emotion.

To be honest, he didn't feel much schadenfreude, just a sense of trouble.

The Wall was the only barrier for humans to stop the White Walkers. The collapse of the Wall meant that it would be much more difficult for humans to stop the White Walkers.

Viserys hoped to see the Baratheon dynasty and the White Walkers fight each other to a standstill, so that he could reap the benefits. He did not want to see the White Walkers completely destroy the Seven Kingdoms.

If that happened, all of Westeros would probably become a ghost realm, with the dead walking the earth, creating an uncontrollable situation that could even threaten the safety of humans on this side of the Narrow Sea.

The problem that Viserys had been struggling with before now seemed to be no longer necessary to continue.

Reality had made the decision for him.

"How is the construction of the fleet going now?"

Viserys finished reading the intelligence in his hand, then looked up and asked.

The Dragonstone fleet, loyal to the Targaryen family, was ambushed years ago on Dragonstone by Stannis leading the royal fleet.

The key to this battle was that Stannis had bought off some of the soldiers and officers of the Dragonstone fleet.

And the 'distant relatives' of the Valyrian family, who had always been non-aligned and non-committal, suddenly sided with Baratheon and launched an attack on the Targaryen fleet stationed on Dragonstone.

This battle resulted in the defeat of the Dragonstone fleet, heavy losses, and they were forced to retreat to the coast of Braavos, giving up Dragonstone and also losing the ability to attack Westeros.

And the commander of the fleet, Count Jeffrey, was shot in the chest in the fight, seriously injured.

Although he was later rescued, he was left with a permanent ailment, and his old wounds would flare up from time to time.

The fleet suffered heavy losses, and the only naval general was seriously injured. Viserys' future attack on Westeros would first require the restoration of the Dragonstone fleet.

Therefore, over the past few years, the Targaryen family has allocated a lot of funds to restore the scale of the fleet, the total tonnage, the number of ships, and the number of ship soldiers.

But at that time, the Targaryen family only controlled the Andalos region, with only a narrow dock, and the shipbuilding industry was very backward, without the corresponding technology and ability to build large-tonnage ships.

Later, with Viserys' single-handed meeting, the two hundred people seized the city and took Pentos, all these problems were solved.

Pentos has a very prosperous port, with trade from the Seven Kingdoms and even the Jade Sea.

The shipbuilding industry is naturally very developed, with many skilled shipbuilders who can build the largest tonnage warships, so the plan to restore the Dragonstone fleet was
once again restarted.

The old flagship of the Dragonstone fleet, the Black Death, was too heavily damaged to be repaired and was honorably retired. It is now docked at the small seaport of the Sentinel's Tower.

The new Black Death is currently under construction, its tonnage far surpassing its predecessor, equipped with a large number of catapults and giant crossbows.

At the same time, two other main ships are being built at the Pentos shipyard, second only to the new Black Death. They are named after Rhaenys and Daenerys' dragons, Rhaegal and Viserion.

Upon hearing Viserys' question, Jon Connington, sitting in the second position on the left, perked up.

He then sorted out the useful parts from the thick pile of documents and handed them to Viserys.

"Your Majesty."

The three new ships being built in Pentos had always been under Jon Connington's supervision, so he was very familiar with their progress.

Sitting diagonally across from him, on Viserys' right hand, Oberyn was somewhat bored, playing with the ring in his hand, and glanced at Jon Connington.

Two months ago, he had just dismissed Jon Connington, but Jon seemed to bear no grudge against him, maintaining his usual demeanor, neither fawning nor distant, even somewhat aloof.

No one in the palace liked him, but no one dared not fear him.

Simply put, this man had no friends, his character was strict and meticulous, he didn't form cliques, and he always liked to present a professional demeanor.

Oberyn even suspected that the reason Jon didn't resent him was because he thought Oberyn's dismissal of him was in accordance with the rules, as Oberyn's position was higher and he had the power to do so.

On the other hand, Viserys looked at the information Jon handed him, his face not looking very good, his brows slightly furrowed.

Because the construction progress of the three warships was somewhat behind expectations.

Jon Connington might have noticed Viserys' displeasure, hesitated for a moment, and then explained.

"Your Majesty, the delay in shipbuilding is due to the siege some time ago, some key raw materials could not be transported in."

The slow construction of the three main ships had a reason. They had been besieged by the Dothraki some time ago, many raw materials for shipbuilding couldn't be transported in, naturally, they couldn't start work.

The three main ships were very demanding in terms of wood, it had to be hard enough, resistant to moisture and dampness, they couldn't cut corners, so it wasted a lot of time.

"Yes, I know."

"Jon, urge them again, let them speed up the progress."

Viserys naturally knew why the shipbuilding progress was delayed, then he frowned and said.

"If it's a little slower than usual during peacetime, that's fine."

"But now the situation in Westeros has dramatically changed, the Wall suddenly collapsed, the wildlings have flooded into the North, and the armies of the Seven Kingdoms have retreated to Winterfell to hunt down the wildlings."

"The situation is changing rapidly."

"We may need to prepare to invade Westeros at any time, whether to deal with the White Walkers or the usurpers. Even to take them both down at once, ships are indispensable."

Without a ship, Viserys could fly over, but his soldiers couldn't swim across the Narrow Sea.

Therefore, as long as the warships are not in place, even if Viserys wants to plot against Westeros, he can only stare helplessly.

Chapter 286: The Human Alliance

The current situation in Westeros is indeed a chaotic mess.

The wildlings consist of hundreds of tribes, each with their own distinct cultures and even races, scattered and running amok.

They are well aware that their wooden clubs are no match for the regular armies of the alliance, whose swords are sharper and who are armored.

Armor is a game-changer, even more important than high-quality weapons. A soldier in armor can easily deal with five or six farmers armed with clubs.

Therefore, from the very beginning, Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall, did not expect to be able to defeat the armies of the Seven Kingdoms in a head-on battle.

Their only chance was to capture Robert alive during the collapse of the Wall, and they couldn't even kill him.

Because a dead king is just a dead fat man, the nobles of King's Landing can compromise at any time and put forward a new king to replace him.

But a living king is an important hostage that can be used to demand their retreat and extort land and food.

Unfortunately... that night, King Robert was very happy and went whoring before the battle.

Mance Rayder didn't expect this king to be so reckless.

A series of unfortunate events led to the failure of the plan.

However, since they couldn't capture a living king, Mance Rayder had already prepared an alternative plan and immediately changed direction.

The King Beyond the Wall ordered that once they crossed the Wall, the wildling kingdom would disperse into tribes, with hundreds of tribes each fighting their own battles.

They would not resist, they would not seek war, they would just keep heading south.

The further south they could run, the better.

Because the people south of the Wall do not know the horror of the White Walkers, but the wildlings have fought the White Walkers several times in the past few months.

Each encounter resulted in heavy losses, and they are very aware of the horror and terror of the White Walkers.

They may still have the faces of humans, but they are completely different entities.

They don't need to breathe, they don't need to eat. They do not fear the cold, and Mance Rayder once saw a group of the dead walk out from under the sea.

They literally walked out, stepping on the seabed without even needing to swim, because these people don't need to breathe.

But this was only in shallow water, whether the pressure of the deep sea could affect these dead, no one knew, but this still made Mance Rayder feel terrified.

And these dead will kill all the creatures they see, and few birds and beasts can escape.

Even as the White Walkers gradually moved south from the Land of Always Winter, the cold of death gradually invaded, and even the cold-resistant trees beyond the Wall would be frozen to death.

These White Walkers and their minions are like death, where they go, no life can exist.

Therefore, these wildlings, when facing the White Walkers, can't muster any resistance, they just want to escape south after crossing the Wall.

Of course, if they can attack a port along the way, seize the ships and escape to the other side of the Narrow Sea, that would be even better.

This is Mance Rayder's second plan.

Now, the situation in the North is that hundreds of thousands of wildlings crossed the Wall and began to wreak havoc like locusts, attacking villages and plundering food.

They even managed to get a lot of weapons and equipment, and the wildlings' armament became stronger and stronger.

The regular army, few in number, was frustrated, they had the strength but couldn't use it, because the other side simply didn't line up for a head-on battle.

Even occasionally, a careless regular army would be ambushed by the wildlings, and by the time other friendly forces arrived, these soldiers had already been brutally killed.

Their armor and clothes were stripped clean, leaving only naked bodies lying in the snow.

The wildlings got another wave of equipment, strengthened a bit, and then moved on.

...

This news had spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms before it reached Viserys.

The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, who had not taken it seriously before, all understood that the situation was tricky.

However, unexpectedly, they did not immediately send more troops to support King Robert in suppressing the wildlings.

Instead, they hurriedly sent troops to block all the main entrances to their territories.

They wanted to prevent these fleeing wildlings from entering their territories and causing destruction and property loss.

But later, they felt that they couldn't save face and honor by doing this, with the king fighting on the front line while they were cowering in the rear.

And Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King who stayed in King's Landing, issued a series of conscription orders.

He called on the knights and soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms to heed the king's call, to expedition to the North, to clear the invading wildlings, and to confront the possible appearance of the White Walkers.

So, Renly Baratheon, the minor duke of the Stormlands, was the first to support his elder brother, but he did not personally go on the expedition, instead delegating another count to lead the Baratheon's home army to the North.

Then came the second response from the Westerlands.

Tywin Lannister, the cunning Duke of the Westerlands, is also a well-known commander among the Seven Kingdoms, but he also stayed in Casterly Rock to oversee the overall situation, sending other counts from the Westerlands to reinforce the king.

Next was the king's new in-laws.

Although the wildlings and White Walkers may not be able to threaten the Riverlands far in the south.

And the Tyrell family of Highgarden is not good at war, but at this juncture when other nobles are making their positions clear, he must also show his attitude.

He just seemed a bit reluctant.

Of course, the Vale doesn't need to say much, they don't need to make a statement.

Although Jon Arryn has been away from the Vale for many years and his control over it is declining, the prestige of the Arryn family is still there, and the knights of the Vale are already on their way to the North.

This time, the major families of the Seven Kingdoms really made a move, sending out a large number of troops, gathering together to form an army of sixty thousand men. Even Dorne, this time, did not continue to slack off, but sent a few thousand men.

Because although Dorne is allied with the Targaryens, and the threat of the White Walkers is far away, after all, they are on the same land, and they fear the what-ifs.

This force of over sixty thousand men, including five thousand five hundred knights, officially broke the record of the largest army in history formed in Westeros about three hundred years ago during Aegon's conquest of Westeros.

At that time, King Loren Lannister of Casterly Rock and King Mern IX Gardener of the Riverlands combined forces of nearly fifty-five thousand men at Goldengrove to resist Aegon Targaryen.

And now, the Seven Kingdoms, while still holding back, have combined forces to form an army of sixty thousand men to resist the invasion of the White Walkers, and they are marching towards Winterfell in a grand manner.

The formation of the Human Alliance took a long time.

Due to the distance across the sea, the transmission of information was severely delayed, and by the time this information fell into Viserys's hands, it was already late September.

Pentos's September does not have a golden autumn, but rather increasingly biting cold winds.

The cycle of seasons, which changes every few years, made Viserys feel a bit uncomfortable at first, but the residents living here didn't seem to have any discomfort, as if it was a matter of course.

Viserys didn't know whether this long cycle of seasons was due to special astronomical and geographical influences, or the result of the 'magic duel' between the gods in the legends.

At this moment, he was standing on the high tower of the palace, draped in a fluffy white cloak, looking out over the endless sea.

His coming-of-age ceremony was in full swing.

After today, he would be considered an adult in this world.

Chapter 287: Coming of Age

The next morning dawned.

Viserys awoke amidst a bustling atmosphere.

All the servants in the palace were busy arranging and rehearsing.

The king's coming-of-age ceremony had to be a grand event.

Even those who had stayed behind in Andalos had rushed over.

Rhaenys personally rode her dragon back to Andalos to pick up her younger aunt.

Fortunately, Rhaegal had a better memory than Rhaenys, and the dragon knew the way, so Rhaenys didn't get lost.

And whether it was because he understood Daenerys's words or because he was bored, Viserion also flew over.

With their growth in age and size, Balerion and Rhaegal both gained the ability to fight, so they left Andalos one after the other to join the battlefield.

Only the white dragon Viserion was left in the Kingswood, without his brothers to play with, and the surrounding little ones were too small, so Viserion also felt a bit bored.

Then Viserion followed Rhaegal and his companion Daenerys to their new home.

The morning sun shone in the garden, and the servants were moving ladders to hang tapestries on the walls.

And Rhaenys and Daenerys both came to his side, which greatly relieved Viserys's recent bad mood due to Meereen and the events in Westeros.

A gentle smile returned to his face.

"Dany." Viserys was dressed in a soft velvet robe today, embroidered with gorgeous golden patterns, and a dragon head badge reflecting metallic light was pinned to his chest.

The young man with silver-gold hair also wore a golden crown.

His appearance attracted the attention of all the girls present.

Even some middle-aged noble ladies couldn't help but swallow, feeling a bit itchy, with an impulse to take this beautiful young man and ravish him.

Viserys was too handsome.

Especially after his physique had broken through the extraordinary.

His silver-gold hair shone in the sunlight, almost overshadowing the golden crown on his head.

And his skin had become very textured, fair and smooth, and ordinary swords could not pierce his skin without a bit of force.

The young man's handsome face was usually somewhat serious.

However, when he saw the two girls standing in the front row of the crowd on both sides, a gentle smile involuntarily appeared on his face.

"Brother."

Then Daenerys ran over to him and gave Viserys a big hug.

And Viserys also hugged his sister, while gently rubbing the silver-haired Daenerys.

Daenerys was very clingy, holding onto Viserys and not wanting to let go.

And having not seen her for so long, Viserys also noticed some changes in the girl's character.

Before the coming-of-age ceremony began, Daenerys was chattering non-stop, and Viserys was patiently listening to the girl talk about some trivial matters in the castle.

Just as the old maid had told Viserys.

Rhaenys had become more sensible, and Daenerys was perhaps also approaching puberty.

She had not only grown taller, but her figure was also starting to develop, and her character had become much more lively, no longer shy and timid about many small things.

Both girls had changed for the better, and Viserys was naturally very happy.

"Good day, uncle."

And on the other side, little Aegon, seeing the family gathered together, couldn't help but step forward and greet everyone.

"And Aunt Daenerys."

Although Aegon was about the same age as Daenerys, he still had to call her aunt.

Viserys patted Aegon on the shoulder.

Daenerys, on the other hand, seemed a bit restrained and unfamiliar with Aegon's presence, but she also politely greeted him.

Before coming here from Andalos, Daenerys had heard about such a person, who was said to be the son of her elder brother Rhaegar Targaryen, whom she had never met.

However, Daenerys also heard some rumors, saying that he was not a 'dragon', but a pretender.

The existence of Aegon has always been questioned within the Targaryen family.

Because it is indeed impossible to confirm whether he is the real Prince Aegon, after all, this is just the word of some people, unless other evidence can be found.

"Hello, Aegon."

Daenerys politely responded to Aegon.

Dong—

Then, with the melodious bell ringing in the palace, the king's coming-of-age ceremony officially began.

The forty families of Pentos who had survived the Red Night's purge, as well as the local merchants.

The newly ennobled nobles of the Targaryen dynasty, Count Joffrey who stayed in Andalos, and William Darry, the former master-at-arms of the Red Keep, also came to the scene.

The old knight was a count that Viserys had ennobled later, who was granted a prosperous town closest to Andalos and built a small castle.

It's just a pity that Joffrey didn't marry in his lifetime, didn't leave any offspring, and no one could inherit his castle.

In fact, Viserys had once unintentionally heard that the old count, when he was about his age, sixteen,

He had left a legitimized bastard in Westeros, who was raised by his younger brother and inherited his surname.

And because he killed a noble enemy in the street, he was judged by the king and forced to flee Westeros, coming to the continent of Essos to become a mercenary sailor.

Later, by chance, he met Prince Rhaegar.

This allowed him to return to Westeros, but he still kept his name hidden and did not restore his surname.

Eventually, he made it to the position of commander of the Dragonstone fleet, and because of Rhaegar's appreciation, he remained loyal to the Targaryen family.

The old count didn't want to talk about his sad past, and Viserys naturally couldn't force him to.

So the matter was dropped.

The old count still had a full head of white hair, and although he was very old, his figure was still upright and robust.

He could even personally put on armor and go into battle, his eyes bright and spirited.

However, his previous injuries did indeed have some impact on him. The robust old man, if you look closely, you could see that his face was not as radiant as before, his spirit was very high, but his body was not as good as before.

The old count wore the golden badge of the Hand of the King on his chest, standing at the head of the crowd in the great hall.

Rhaenys and Daenerys, the two princesses of the new dynasty, had to stand behind Count Joffrey, Oberyn, Bessie Joyce, Jon Connington, the Ragged Prince, and other nobles of the new dynasty.

Usually, it's even hard to see each other, but now they're all gathered together.

Chapter 288: The Golden-Haired Infant

Dong—

The melodious tolling of the bells echoed throughout Pentos once more.

Envoys from various trading city-states stepped forward, presenting their gifts and letters of congratulations.

Then, Viserys led the nobles of the new dynasty and the envoys on a tour around the entire city of Pentos.

However, Viserys did not ride in the ostentatious throne of ivory and gold, but on his own warhorse, bringing him closer to the people.

The silver-haired, handsome young man was dressed in a magnificent robe, his long hair fluttering in the wind, a golden crown on his head, exuding a heroic aura.

The three massive dragons also danced above his head, exuding an extreme dominance. All the nobles of the new dynasty and the envoys, dressed in their splendid attire, obediently followed behind him.

The long procession grandly exited the Nine Towers Palace and toured around the city of Pentos.

"Stop pushing!"

"Hey!"

"Back off!"

On both sides, soldiers of House Targaryen were maintaining order, keeping the onlooking citizens of Pentos at bay.

The citizens of Pentos were enthusiastic.

They all crowded at the front to catch a glimpse of their legendary true dragon king, the savior who saved Pentos, the liberator who shattered the monopoly of the Magister's family and saved the people from their exploitation.

When they saw Viserys riding his warhorse past them, the citizens blocked by the soldiers outside cheered, wave after wave, surging forward.

The weather in Pentos was good that day, a blessing from the heavens.

The sky was clear, cloudless, sunny and pleasant, without the biting cold wind. The people kept pushing forward, cheering, waving at Viserys.

Viserys, holding the reins of his warhorse in one hand, waved to the people in acknowledgment, a smile appearing on his calm face.

Being embraced by the people was indeed something to be proud of.

What he did was not much.

First, he liberated the monopoly, causing prices to drop and people's income to rise, essentially giving them money.

Second, he won a war, satisfying the people on a spiritual level, allowing them to speak up against foreign merchants with their chests puffed out.

...

"This exiled Targaryen king is quite popular in Pentos."

In the convoy following behind, the envoy of House Tyrell looked at Viserys's popularity among the people of Pentos and spoke with some concern.

On the other side, an official from Braavos heard the Tyrell envoy's words and shook his head slightly.

"King Viserys III is even more popular in Andalos."

In Andalos, Viserys was almost a 'demi-god', even more adored by the people, because he was deified and created miracles.

In Pentos, Viserys led the city to victory, ended the monopoly of the Magister's family, and naturally, his prestige was extremely high.

The national sentiment of the people of Pentos was also at its peak, after all, the city had a history of humiliation for nearly a hundred years.

However, while the people of Pentos were happy, their neighbors were worried.

A dictator embraced by the people would unite a more powerful force. If this king was warlike, it would not be a good thing for the neighbors.

Looking at the history of Viserys's growth, this exiled Targaryen king could not be called a 'tyrant'.

But he was at least an active warmonger.

Under his rule, House Targaryen hardly had a year without war, constantly expanding its territory.

During Viserys's tour of Pentos, many interesting incidents occurred.

For instance, a group of orphans loudly begging, a startled warhorse damaging a fruit stand.

A certain knight's horse became infatuated, ignoring its master's attempts to stop it and nuzzling another horse nearby.

There was also a discarded mistress of an unknown noble, holding her illegitimate child, seeking justice.

Someone even stopped the procession in the street to complain that his employer owed him wages. And so on.

After all the commotion, Viserys's city tour was still considered successful, leading the procession back to the palace.

Next was the grand banquet, and the next day, according to plan, there would be a tournament to celebrate the king's coming of age.

A group of knights eager for honor and ready to make a name for themselves at this opportunity were naturally prepared and ready.

Viserys was interested, but he naturally didn't need to add luster to his title with a tournament championship.

Otherwise, if he were to participate, the championship would be within easy reach.

After all, Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane, known as the first villain of the Seven Kingdoms, is now imprisoned in a water cell with five broken limbs.

He was unable to live or die.

...

This happened not long ago.

Oberyn forced him to admit his crimes and write a confession.

Accusing usurper Robert Baratheon and Lord of Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister, as murderers.

As for the details of the invasion of the Red Keep, Gregor Clegane himself couldn't explain clearly.

He only stated that he indeed took a golden-haired male infant from the arms of Princess Elia Martell and smashed him against the wall, causing a bloody head injury.

A golden-haired male infant?

Oberyn pried this important piece of information from The Mountain's mouth.

But The Mountain himself couldn't remember very clearly, after all, it was a long time ago.

Then Oberyn told Viserys about this.

"Golden hair?"

"How is that possible?"

Viserys was also a bit taken aback, then tried hard to recall the hair color of Aegon when he was just a baby.

But Viserys had traveled back in time just a few days before the fall of King's Landing, and he couldn't quite remember Aegon's hair color.

The hair of a male infant is very short, just a little bit.

Viserys was just newly arrived and in a state of chaos, he didn't observe carefully. Now, trying to remember, it was a bit hard to confirm.

He remembered... it should be silver.

But fortunately, there was another important person who could confirm it.

That was the old maid of House Targaryen.

Sophia had once served Viserys's mother, Queen Rhaella, she must remember what color Aegon's hair was.

This matter was very important.

If Aegon's hair was not golden, it meant that the male infant who was smashed against the wall might not be the real Aegon.

Later.

Viserys sent a letter to Andalos, but the reply from Sophia denied that Aegon had golden hair. 'Aegon looked like a Targaryen, but his hair was not golden. How could a prince and princess without golden hair give birth to a boy with golden hair?'

However, in the reply, Sophia did explain this point.

Aegon's hair in a dimly lit room lit only by candlelight might indeed look a bit 'yellow'.

Sophia had personally taken care of Aegon for a long time, and she knew him very well.

Aegon's hair was a bit yellowish, which at a quick glance might look a bit like gold, but it wasn't entirely gold. Under the ample sunlight, it was still silver.

This might have something to do with Aegon's mother, Elia.

Elia's health was very unstable. When she gave birth to Rhaenys, she was bedridden for half a year.

And when she gave birth to Aegon, she nearly lost her life and was diagnosed by the maester as unable to bear children ever again.

Elia's physical condition might have led to Aegon being a bit malnourished at birth, causing his hair to be a bit dull and yellowish.

And it was in a room lit only by candlelight that The Mountain killed Elia and her child.

Finally, when Tywin presented the child's body wrapped in a red cloak to Robert, it was under the ample sunlight outdoors.

Chapter 289: Captured Alive

Across the Narrow Sea...

Viserys, the despised spawn of the dragon that Robert Baratheon loathed most, the second prince of the exiled Targaryen dynasty, was celebrating his coming of age. A living adult male Targaryen heir posed a significant challenge to the Baratheon dynasty, and Robert wanted him dead, even if he had nothing.

But now, this heir of the Targaryen family was far from empty-handed.

Viserys commanded a formidable army and vast territories, rivaling two dukes of Westeros, excluding the North. He had a large population base, two main cities, and the wealthy city of Pentos, all eyeing the Iron Throne.

The pressure he exerted had spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms across the Narrow Sea, and almost everyone knew that a war between the new king and the old king was inevitable.

The Baratheon dynasty wasn't exactly popular, and its stability was mainly due to the fact that many nobles of the Seven Kingdoms had already offended the Targaryen family beyond the point of no return.

The four major families of the wolf, deer, fish, and hawk occupied half of the Seven Kingdoms. These were the main forces of the rebellion and were unforgivable.

Many other families had defected, even stabbing the Targaryens in the back, the Lannisters being the prime example.

There were many more unpleasant incidents that followed.

If Viserys ever crossed the Narrow Sea and reclaimed the Iron Throne, the Lannisters would inevitably face retribution.

By then, they could start thinking about where to flee.

However... Robert Baratheon was currently too preoccupied to worry about the news from across the Narrow Sea.

He was somewhat overwhelmed by the chaos in front of him.

The situation in the North was somewhat unique, mainly due to its sparse population and vast territory.

The North was vast, almost equivalent to the total area of the other six kingdoms, but despite its vastness, it was sparsely populated and couldn't compare to the prosperous South.

The North was full of vast wastelands, forests, and snow-capped mountains.

This sparse population and vast territory were perfect for the wildlings' hit-and-run tactics.

Moreover, the wildlings were excellent at surviving in the wilderness. Once they disappeared into the mountains or forests, the regular army couldn't find them, and if they pursued too deeply, they were likely to be ambushed.

And now, their troops were not sufficient.

A large part of them had been crushed to death when the Wall collapsed, and others were killed by the wildlings in the chaos of that night.

Soldiers couldn't find their commanders, and commanders couldn't find their soldiers.

After all, who could have expected such a massive Wall to collapse suddenly?

Robert and Eddard Stark, the two commanders, were in Mole's Town that night. Robert was drunk and frolicking with a naked woman.

And Lord Eddard had rushed back overnight to find their unreliable king.

However, at this moment, they suddenly received news of the Wall's collapse, and both were taken aback.

Then Robert sobered up and hurriedly followed Eddard back to Winterfell, gathering the defeated soldiers along the way.

But, people can't always be unlucky.

Boys who love to laugh won't have bad luck, and Robert, a big boy who loves to laugh, has always been lucky.

Once, Robert had escaped Jon Connington's pursuit by hiding under a woman's skirt.

And this time, they found the whereabouts of Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

...

Stannis didn't die on the night the Wall
collapsed, but he was genuinely shocked.

His somewhat balding head was bleeding from a stone hit, and then, under the desperate protection of his guards, he broke out of the encirclement and escaped from Castle Black.

Afterward, Stannis didn't return to Winterfell but led his guards on a roundabout route through the forest.

They fled in panic, lost in the dense forest.

However, at this moment...

Stannis and a few remaining guards discovered traces that seemed to belong to Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Mance Rayder seemed to be hiding in this forest, secretly directing the wildlings to cause chaos. Upon discovering this, Stannis quietly left and then spent a long time finding his way back.

But at this time, Stannis still didn't return to Winterfell. Instead, he boldly led his guards to continue wandering, gathering some soldiers who had fled from the Battle of Castle Black.

Then, leading these remnants, he returned to that forest.

The Duke of Dragonstone, his head still bandaged, was ragged and emitting a strong stench.

But he was as resilient as a rock.

Stannis drew his sword, bravely leading his soldiers into the fray, personally charging at the front.

They broke into this wildling tribe hidden in the forest, and after a fierce battle, captured Mance Rayder alive.

When Mance Rayder was first captured, he was very calm, trying to hide his identity, but was exposed by a simple-minded subordinate's slip of the tongue.

Mance Rayder was indeed unlucky.

His proposal to divide and cause chaos, to exhaust the regular army, and to minimize the target to prevent the army of the Seven Kingdoms from targeting him, left him with only a little over three hundred wildlings.

However, Mance Rayder never expected that hundreds of thousands of wildlings would run around the North, and even the nimble ones were about to escape the North and enter the Riverlands.

But he was unlucky enough to be targeted and captured by Stannis.

Stannis didn't actually recognize Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

At that time, he was lying in the snow, deducing through some clues and calm inference that this might be the King-Beyond-the-Wall's hideout.

And if he didn't kill these people, it wouldn't be a loss, and it would make up for the defeat.

So Stannis went out to gather some remnants, and then boldly came back to kill.

After a fierce battle in the forest, only a dozen soldiers were left on Stannis's side.

The wildlings resisted fiercely, but they were either killed or captured alive.

Mance Rayder saw the situation was bad, couldn't run away, so he surrendered very neatly, and his disguise was also very good when he was first captured.

He disguised himself as a common wildling tribe leader, even voluntarily expressing his willingness to surrender to the regular army and help them hunt down other wildlings.

And at first, Stannis was fooled by Mance Rayder's exquisite acting.

He thought he hadn't captured the real King-Beyond-the-Wall and felt a bit disappointed.

But since he hadn't captured the King-Beyond-the-Wall and had caught a 'guide,' it wasn't a loss.

Chapter 290: Burned Alive!

However, at this moment...

A wildling captive next to Mance Rayder misspoke during questioning, revealing Mance's true identity to the sharp-minded Stannis.

Stannis then confirmed that the seemingly humble man, who had begged for mercy and offered to lead the regular army to exterminate the wildlings, was indeed Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Stannis didn't give Mance any more chances to argue. He led the remaining dozen soldiers, escorting the King-Beyond-the-Wall to Winterfell to meet his elder brother.

...

Stannis's return to Winterfell naturally caused a sensation.

His elder brother Robert personally went out of the city to welcome him, tearfully embracing him. Although the two brothers often quarreled, they were, after all, brothers born of the same parents.

Even Stannis, as hard and unyielding as a stone in a toilet, had slightly reddened eyes.

Everyone in Winterfell had thought Stannis was dead.

Then, Stannis brought out Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, and revealed his identity to everyone.

At first, Eddard Stark and his elder brother Robert couldn't believe that the man before them was the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

However, after repeated confirmations, they finally confirmed his identity.

Mance Rayder was once a wildling orphan raised by the Night's Watch, serving in the Night's Watch for many years.

He then deserted the Night's Watch and returned to the wildlings, eventually uniting all the wildlings, quelling their disputes, and being elected as the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Therefore, some old soldiers in the Night's Watch could recognize him, such as Maester Aemon, the living fossil of the Night's Watch.

The old maester wasn't killed when the Wall collapsed. His prestige in the Night's Watch was high, so many soldiers desperately protected him.

He was eventually escorted to Winterfell, as was Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

When Robert finally confirmed that the man was indeed the legendary King-Beyond-the-Wall, he was overjoyed.

The current chaos in the North was all because of this man. If it weren't for him blowing the Horn of Winter, the Wall wouldn't have collapsed, and the wildlings wouldn't have flooded into the North.

However, at this time, including Robert, Eddard Stark, Stannis, Yohn Royce of the Vale, and other self-proclaimed righteous people all selectively forgot that the wildlings had repeatedly initiated negotiations.

The wildlings had repeatedly lowered their conditions and their stance, begging the king of the Seven Kingdoms to open the gates and let the wildlings come behind the Wall to escape the pursuit of the White Walkers.

However, they were all arrogantly rejected by Robert.

Robert didn't believe that the wildlings had weapons that could destroy the Wall, so he dismissed the words of the wildling envoys as nonsense.

This led to the current situation.

The wildlings, out of desperation, blew the Horn of Winter to collapse the Wall for survival.

Then they fled into the North, causing destruction everywhere. They believed that all of this was the result of the arrogance of the people behind the Wall, so they wanted to retaliate many times over.

And now, the real King-Beyond-the-Wall was brought to Winterfell, bound hand and foot.

Robert was naturally overjoyed to see the captured King-Beyond-the-Wall, and then immediately demanded Mance Rayder to order all the wildlings to surrender, or he would burn him alive.

Robert was now enraged by the wildlings. He had
never been so humiliated in all his years as king, and his character had drastically changed from the young man with black hair he once was.

Eddard Stark wanted to dissuade Robert. He believed that the King-Beyond-the-Wall was, after all, a dignified figure, and no one should be subjected to cruel torture as a form of punishment.

The King-Beyond-the-Wall could be sentenced to death by hanging or beheading, but burning him alive would undoubtedly replicate the actions of the Mad King, Aerys II.

However, at this moment, Mance Rayder, who had been silent since his identity was revealed, suddenly began to mock Robert.

He ridiculed that they would all die at the hands of the White Walkers, and the Iron Throne would eventually be taken by a Targaryen king from across the Narrow Sea.

Mance Rayder, although he had always lived beyond the Wall, surprisingly had a deep understanding of the situation in the Seven Kingdoms.

And Mance Rayder told Robert that he would not order the wildlings to surrender.

Because he had told all the wildlings long ago that he was not any 'King-Beyond-the-Wall,' nor did he want to be a king. He had just united everyone to face the difficulties together.

"They are free folk!"

"No one can make them kneel!"

Mance Rayder even spat in Robert's face, his expression begging for death.

And Robert was indeed enraged by Mance Rayder's attitude, immediately wanting to burn him alive.

Eddard Stark and Stannis both realized that Mance Rayder was trying to provoke Robert to seek a quick death.

So they hurriedly tried to stop the king, but it was impossible.

Enraged, Robert immediately ordered his soldiers to build a pyre, filled with dry hay at the bottom, and then tied Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, to the stake.

Holding a burning torch in his hand, he asked one last time if Mance was willing to surrender.

However, he was still met with Mance Rayder's mockery.

In the end, Robert, in his anger, threw the torch into the hay, and a large fire ignited instantly.

Mance Rayder initially remained calm in the flames, his eyes, as if ready to devour people, glaring at everyone around him. For his people, he was willing to face death calmly.

Because Mance Rayder knew very well that once he fell into the hands of the king of the Seven Kingdoms, they would definitely use him to deceive other free folk into laying down their weapons or to divide and conquer.

He didn't want more free folk to die because of him, so Mance Rayder deliberately tried to provoke Robert to seek a quick death.

His plan worked.

Robert Baratheon was indeed a hot-tempered man. He hated the King-Beyond-the-Wall to the core, and giving him a chance to live was already a great favor.

After being rudely rejected, he immediately ordered him to be burned alive.

However, Mance Rayder underestimated the pain of being burned alive. At first, the wildling man maintained his composure, even glaring angrily.

But when the flames reached his skin, the water in his body evaporated quickly, his skin slowly shriveled and turned yellow, and his flesh was exposed.

His face changed.

Mance Rayder's facial expression gradually twisted, and a painful groan squeezed out from between his teeth.

Eventually, this pain magnified, making him unable to bear it any longer, and he let out a piercing scream.

His entire body was engulfed in flames, his mouth wide open, flames spewing from his eyes and mouth, and his twisted, agonized screams echoed over Winterfell.

The three Stark children stood in the castle's second-floor corridor, watching the raging fire below.

Robb Stark's face was stern and serious, Jon Snow showed a look of distress.

And the red-haired Sansa was outright terrified, bursting into tears. She had never seen such a horrifying sight.

Their father, usually fair and just, stood behind Uncle Robert, watching a man being burned alive without uttering a word.

Chapter 291: Absorption and Bestowal

In the distant city of Pentos, time passed swiftly. More than a month had passed since Viserys's coming-of-age ceremony. From the New Year's Eve of 291 AC when the city was seized, a year had almost passed, filled with numerous events.

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating the elegant bedroom. Under the golden canopy, Arianne was still sound asleep, exhausted from the previous night's activities. Despite her stamina, even she couldn't withstand such exertion.

Viserys, however, was up at his usual time. He rarely slept in. The silver-haired young man sat on the edge of the bed, bare-chested, dressing himself. He found it hard to fall back asleep once awake.

Viserys's mind was filled with many matters. Being a king, although prestigious and powerful, was far more stressful than being a farmer. There were many things to consider.

Every morning, even if he wanted to sleep in, the thoughts in his head would keep him awake.

At that moment, he heard a soft noise. A black cat, moving with agile steps, appeared from the window sill. It was 'Balerion,' the little black cat Rhaenys had brought from the Red Keep.

Back then, Balerion was a cute little kitten. Now, after so many years, Viserys had already held his coming-of-age ceremony, and 'Balerion' had grown from a kitten into an old black cat.

Its body had become quite plump, its walk a bit wobbly. However, its balance was still good, allowing it to move freely on the narrow window sill. Its diet in the castle and palace was good, and it lived a life of luxury.

Its head, however, remained the same size as when it was a kitten, looking somewhat disproportionate to its plump body. It looked around, not noticing anyone watching it. Then, it lazily collapsed on the window sill, not afraid of falling. Its round body stretched a bit, yawning lazily.

However, not long after the old black cat lay down, it noticed that the master of the room was awake and sitting on the bed, watching it. The black cat licked its paw and meowed softly, showing no intention of leaving.

The only ones who dared to occupy Viserys's room in the Palace of the Nine Towers were the old fat cat and no one else. Balerion had been the 'bully' of the castle in Andalos, and seamlessly became the ruler here in the Nine Towers.

The few wild cats that used to live in the palace had their faces scratched and were chased around by Balerion when he arrived, eventually all fleeing the place. Only then did Balerion return, satisfied, to continue his nap.

Viserys watched as the big fat cat claimed his balcony as its own and showed no intention of leaving. He shook his head and turned his gaze away.

Perhaps it was because the cat shared the same name as the black dragon. After being influenced by the dragon's domineering aura, Balerion had indeed become much braver.

To distinguish between the cat and the dragon, when they were both present, Viserys referred to them as 'Big Balerion' and 'Little Balerion'. The old black cat was much older than the black dragon and had even been forced to help Rhaenys hatch dragon eggs, so it was naturally 'Big Balerion'.

The black dragon was still a child, despite its size. The big fat cat, although small in appearance, was thriving among the dragons.

When the three dragons were young, the big fat cat often played with
them, even lying on their backs. Later, it mysteriously disappeared from the castle for a few days, only to be found frolicking in the royal forest with the older dragons.

Ever since Big Balerion and Little Balerion became friends, the former had become much braver and its body had grown significantly, much to Rhaenys's annoyance. She suspected that Balerion had been sneaking off to the royal forest to get extra meals from its dragon brethren.

The dragons, in turn, were very friendly towards the big fat cat, often catching wild game, roasting it, and offering it to their feline brother.

Ignoring the fact that a certain big fat cat had claimed his balcony, Viserys turned his gaze away. After buttoning up his clothes, he stood in front of the bedroom's silver mirror.

The full-length mirror, crafted by the artisans of Myr, was a valuable piece. However, such exquisite craftsmanship had become increasingly rare since the destruction of Myr by the Dothraki.

Viserys stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. Then, black mist gradually filled his eyes, enveloping the entire room and shrouding Viserys's figure.

After some time of accumulation, he now had enough black mist to support another 'level up'.

The ancient High Valyrian text appeared, representing the corresponding abilities with 'Water', 'Fire', 'Earth', and 'Moon'.

This time, Viserys elevated his strength to the extraordinary realm, and also raised his prided mental ability another notch, nearing thirty.

The average person's attributes fluctuated around ten, but special individuals like Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, had terrifying strength and constitution. Even with the enhancement of magic, Viserys's grip strength at that time was not as great as his, but the Mountain had not reached the extraordinary ability.

Now that Viserys had broken through to the extraordinary, apart from a significant increase in strength, he naturally awakened a new ability.

That was the ability to freely absorb and bestow black mist.

"Absorb and bestow?" Viserys stood in place, pondering this ability he could now comprehend.

Now, as he stood in front of the silver mirror, he raised his hand, forming a claw-like shape. He wasn't sure if others could see it, but a cloud of black mist appeared in his palm.

Viserys had a hunch that if this black mist was bestowed upon others, it might grant them unexpected special abilities.

For instance, could it help others increase their strength?

The thought flashed through Viserys's mind. However, without testing, he wasn't sure of the exact use of this ability.

Absorption and bestowal. Bestowal meant bestowing the black mist onto others, while absorption meant extracting the black mist from others.

Viserys had previously speculated that the black mist might be the spiritual energy within a person, similar to a soul.

Therefore, when he killed someone with his own hands, he would extract the soul from their body, causing them to die completely.

Chapter 292: Infusion of the Black Mist

This ability to absorb was akin to execution.

Once he grasped someone's wrist or touched their body, he could directly extract their soul from within.

In other words, he could instantly kill them.

However, the same problem remained. Without experimentation, Viserys was unsure if this ability would work on non-human entities, such as dragons or the White Walkers.

If it did...could he not become a hero of mankind, killing the Night King with a single touch? Of course, this was just a thought for now.

What exactly the Night King was, whether he had a soul or not, was still unclear.

Viserys had no ambition to save the world, nor did he have the desire or ability to confront the army of the dead head-on.

The time was not yet right. He did not wish to fly across the Narrow Sea and clash with the Night King's forces.

"The ability to absorb the black mist is execution, while the ability to bestow the black mist should be quite interesting," Viserys murmured to himself as he stood before the silver mirror.

"But I still need to find something to experiment on."

"Who should it be?"

The silver-haired young man pondered for a moment, glanced at the still sleeping Arianne, and then his gaze fell on the big fat cat basking in the sun and licking its paws.

Big Balerion was originally stretching lazily in the sun, looking content and relaxed.

However, at this moment, it seemed to suddenly feel Viserys's malicious gaze and its expression stiffened slightly.

Although it didn't know what was about to happen, it instinctively had a bad premonition.

The plump black cat struggled to get up from the ground, seemingly wanting to sneak away. However, at that moment, it found that the silver-haired young man who had been standing in the room had disappeared.

The black cat was slightly stunned. It thought it had seen a ghost in broad daylight. How could a two-legged creature just disappear?

Then it immediately felt a pair of large hands grab its belly from behind and lift it up.

"Meow~"

Balerion flailed its limbs, struggling to escape.

However, Viserys held the black cat in his arms, gently stroking its fur. His face wore a calm smile, and he spoke in a gentle voice, as if coaxing a child.

"It's okay, Balerion."

"It won't hurt."

Then, the smile on the silver-haired young man's face slightly faded, and his palm pressed against the top of the black cat's head.

"Transform!"

The next second.

Balerion's body stiffened slightly, its green eyes shimmering.

Its previous intense struggle stopped, and it seemed much more docile. It meowed softly, lying quietly in Viserys's arms.

At this moment, no one could see what had happened.

But Viserys knew. He had infused a cloud of black mist into the black cat's body. The mass of this black mist was not very high, only about the size of a human soul.

When the black mist entered Balerion's body, the black cat became quiet.

Viserys held the black cat with one hand, and placed the other on its head. His light purple eyes stared intently at Balerion's changes. He didn't want to harm the black cat, so he was ready to interrupt the black mist at any sign of adverse changes.

However... he was confident that the existence of the black mist would only benefit the black cat, and his only concern was whether the black cat could withstand this power.

So, Viserys carefully controlled the infusion of the black mist.

But as it turned out, everything was going smoothly.

Balerion instantly calmed down and seemed to be enjoying the process.

Its eyes were slightly squinted, the pupils shimmering with a glow that seemed brighter than before.

After the black mist was completely infused into Balerion's body, Viserys slowly withdrew his hand.

"It's over."

The big fat cat seemed unchanged, except for some dissatisfaction with Viserys's sudden stop. It stood up, shook its fur, and let out a meow.

Then, with light steps, it easily jumped onto the windowsill, wagging its tail as it ran off into the distance.

It looked as if...nothing had happened.

"Hmm?"

Viserys stood by the window, watching Balerion's retreating figure, his hand on his chin as he fell into deep thought.

"No reaction?"

Viserys was certain that the black mist would only benefit the black cat, and he had considered several possible outcomes, even the cat becoming a Super Saiyan, its fur standing on end, and throwing an uppercut at him.

But he never expected the cat to have no reaction at all, as if nothing had happened. Shouldn't there be some kind of response?

"What could be the reason?"

Viserys stroked his chin, puzzled.

The black cat had already run far away, and he didn't chase after it to bring it back.

"Could the black mist have different effects when bestowed upon others?"

Just as Viserys was lost in thought, the Dornish girl sleeping on the soft bed finally woke up.

"Ah..."

"I slept so well."

Arianne stretched lazily and yawned.

Then she saw Viserys standing alone on the balcony, seemingly enveloped in a thin layer of black mist.

"Huh?"

Arianne paused, then suddenly became alert.

She rubbed her slightly sleepy eyes, confirming that she wasn't seeing things, then couldn't help but speak.

"My love!"

Arianne's sudden exclamation startled Viserys out of his thoughts.

Hearing what Arianne said, Viserys's eyebrows raised slightly.

"You can see the black mist around me?"

This was unexpected.

Ever since Viserys had awakened the ability to absorb the black mist when he first arrived in this world, he found that no one else could see this black mist.

But now, after his power had broken through the extraordinary, and he had endured the pain akin to being roasted by fire, he had gained control over the black mist.

The black mist could be freely taken and given, and now it could even be seen by Arianne with the naked eye.

What was going on?

Was this an ability brought about by reaching the extraordinary, or was it a special feature brought about by all four of Viserys's attributes surpassing the ordinary? Viserys pondered for a moment, leaning more towards the latter.

Because he had previously speculated that when all abilities reach the extraordinary, a qualitative change would occur.

Below twenty points were ordinary people, reaching twenty points was extraordinary, and reaching thirty points would definitely bring about even more terrifying changes, another qualitative leap.

Viserys had once speculated this way, which was why when all his abilities reached the extraordinary, he 'added points' to his highest attribute 'Moon' - mental power.

He was looking forward to what kind of changes would occur when his mental power reached a higher realm.

Chapter 293: Exploring the Valyrian Ruins

"My love!"

Arianne, her upper body bare, sat at the head of the bed, watching Viserys deep in thought. She couldn't help but voice her concern.

"What exactly is that black mist?"

"Or... did I see it wrong?"

Arianne was somewhat doubtful, suspecting that she might be seeing things due to just waking up.

Viserys, interrupted by Arianne, looked up at her with a somewhat serious expression.

"Of course, it's some kind of divine power."

"Divine power?"

Arianne was slightly taken aback by Viserys's words, blinking her deep, beautiful eyes.

"Of course."

Viserys nodded as if it was a matter of course.

"You know, Arianne."

"I have been favored by the gods."

Rumors had always linked Viserys to a certain deity, mainly because the story of an eight-year-old wandering prince's struggle was too fantastical to believe.

The title of a genius and wise king seemed insufficient to express this exaggeration, so it was linked to the divine.

"What."

Arianne's mouth opened even wider at Viserys's words, making him slightly tempted.

Seeing Arianne's shocked face, as if she was about to believe him, Viserys finally dropped his serious expression, revealing a smile and shaking his head.

"Alright, I was just teasing you."

"Arianne."

The silver-haired young man smiled calmly, his smile as warm as a spring breeze, gently rubbing his fiancée's cheek.

"It's not divine power."

Then he saw Arianne, embarrassed, swat his hand away.

This annoying guy!

He's teasing me again!

Afterward, Viserys instructed Arianne to get up and stop lazing around in bed. He then put on his coat and left the room.

Arianne watched Viserys leave the room, her recent embarrassment slowly fading, her eyes sparkling.

"Black mist?"

The Dornish girl sat on the bed, her upper body bare.

She looked at the door that Viserys had closed after leaving, not minding her exposed chest.

A look of confusion appeared on her exotic face, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

She didn't understand what Viserys had said earlier.

"And... divine power?"

When Viserys started talking about divine power, Arianne was truly taken aback.

She really thought Viserys had mastered some incredible ability because, in her view, Viserys's ability to control dragons was already a kind of divine power.

However, Viserys's subsequent words left her puzzled, not understanding what he was trying to say.

"Did I really see it wrong?"

Then, Arianne pondered for a moment.

She then called for her personal maid from Dorne to summon her trusted Sand Snake sisters.

The war was over, and Viserys's coming-of-age ceremony had also ended.

The father of the Sand Snake sisters, Prince Oberyn, was preparing to lead his army back to the Red Mountains soon.

These past few days, the Sand Snake sisters had been accompanying their father and stepmother, and hadn't visited Arianne for several days.

They were all Arianne's 'family'.

As the eldest of the Sand Snake sisters, Arianne trusted them implicitly, so she would always choose to consult them when she had a problem.

Meanwhile, in the palace corridor.

Tap, tap.

The sound of footsteps was clear.

"Your Majesty."

A servant saw Viserys and quickly stepped aside to let him pass, bowing in respect.

Two guards followed Viserys, who was dressed in a soft robe
with a golden belt, his silver-gold hair freely cascading down. The smile he had worn earlier had faded somewhat.

He chose not to hide the truth about the black mist from Arianne.

His answers were somewhat vague, as he himself didn't know the correct answer.

The existence of the black mist was one of his most important secrets, second only to the fact that he was not from this world, but from another.

However, since the black mist could one day be seen by Arianne, there was no point in continuing to hide it.

Sooner or later, more people would know about it in the future.

This might be a special effect brought about by all his attributes reaching the extraordinary.

However, it seemed that if Viserys intentionally concealed it, others could not see it.

At that time, Viserys had carefully observed Arianne's facial expression. After he came back to his senses, she could no longer see the black mist lingering around him.

"What exactly is this black mist?"

"Perhaps one day, exploring the Valyrian ruins will give me an answer."

Viserys thought to himself.

He had had this idea a long time ago.

Many clues could prove that the black mist lingering around him must have a deep connection with the Valyrian ruins.

And since he had obtained the map left by Gerion Lannister, plus the need to unravel the mystery of his body.

Viserys was almost certain that he would have to personally visit the Valyrian ruins one day in the future.

However, whether he would go there as a conqueror with thousands of warships and tens of thousands of troops, or alone, riding a dragon into the smoking sea, was unknown.

But one thing was certain.

"I must be prepared." Although Gerion was able to escape from the Valyrian ruins, this did not prove anything.

Because all the people who went with him were dead, it seemed that only he was the lucky one, but in the end, he also died at the hands of Viserys.

Viserys didn't want to gamble on luck, and he never gambled on fate, because that was a very dangerous move.

The terror of the Valyrian ruins is like a man-eating mouth that is always open. Every resident living along the coast or sailors passing by knows this very well.

There is a vast smoking sea, shrouded in fog all day long.

Once a ship mistakenly enters the gray fog of the smoking sea, it rarely reappears.

The smoking sea is a forbidden place for sailors.

Most of the adventurers who went to explore the Valyrian ruins didn't even touch that mysterious and ancient land, and were buried in the sea.

Even those who were lucky enough to reach that land and return safely seemed to be cursed with certain death and died one after another.

Even the Black Dread at its peak was attacked by an unknown entity in the Valyrian ruins, seriously injured, and finally escaped from there.

Viserys, if he were to go, would definitely take Balerion with him.

Because Gerion's diary clearly stated that there were hidden sea monsters in the sea, riding a dragon to fly over from the sky is a special convenience.

However, Viserys still needs to be wary of the existence that can injure a dragon.

Chapter 294: The Wildling Menace

In the afternoon, sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"King Beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder, has been captured by Stannis."

Ramsay Snow had been given a chair to sit next to Viserys, the two of them alone in the otherwise empty study.

Viserys sat behind his desk, holding a letter containing the latest intelligence from across the Narrow Sea.

The news had taken a while to reach them, so it wasn't exactly fresh by the time it arrived.

But there was no helping it.

Ramsay had rushed over as soon as he received the news.

He also held a letter from his father, Roose Bolton, the Count of Dreadfort.

However, this letter was not written to Roose's bastard son, Ramsay Snow, but to Viserys.

Although Ramsay was his bastard son, Roose Bolton only saw him as a tool, not as his own flesh and blood.

Sending him to Viserys was a kind of hedging strategy.

Roose Bolton hadn't expected Ramsay to gain some importance in Viserys's court, thus making him a rather significant tool.

At least in Roose Bolton's eyes.

"The usurper burned him alive."

Ramsay continued to explain.

This event had caused quite a stir in the North.

But in the areas south of the Neck, it didn't make much of a splash. For the people of the South, the King Beyond the Wall was a complete unknown.

Even the Wildlings were just creatures of legend.

Giants? Cannibals?

How could such things truly exist?

However, due to the lack of information, most of the farmers in the South didn't know that a large number of agile Wildlings had escaped to the areas south of the Neck.

They hid in the deep forests during the day to avoid the noble armies, and at night they attacked and pillaged the surrounding villages.

There have been numerous cases of Wildling massacres near the Twins and Seagard.

Upon hearing this, the old Lord Frey was reportedly furious, but he dared not curse King Robert, only blaming the Northerners for letting the Wildlings escape the Neck and causing damage to his property.

Subsequently, old Lord Frey sent his sons to lead the Frey soldiers to capture these Wildlings and bring them to justice.

However, these Wildlings were cunning and had a keen sense of danger.

They caused some destruction here today, and ran to another place to cause more destruction tomorrow.

They were like guerrilla fighters, causing great frustration for Stevron Frey, the eldest son of Lord Frey.

Although the family soldiers were poorly trained and not very combat-effective, they did have a fair number of cavalry.

However, they were always led by the nose by these Wildlings, especially since the Wildlings liked to retreat into the mountains.

Every time Stevron and his father, Lymond Frey, led the Frey soldiers and were about to catch up with these damned Wildlings, they would retreat into the dense forests of the mountains.

The infantry had long been left behind, and the cavalry was not suited to enter the mountains, so they had to dismount and go in on foot.

However, as soon as Stevron and Lymond Frey led the soldiers off their horses and pursued them, they encountered an ambush by the Wildlings.

A rain of large stones and arrows fell, causing many casualties among the soldiers, who fled in panic.

But this wasn't because the Wildlings were particularly strong, but because the Frey sons were too incompetent.

In contrast, at Seagard, it was a different story.

A main force of Wildlings suddenly attacked Seagard, seemingly trying
to seize the castle and town, capture the ships there, and then escape by sea.

This was the strategy set by Mance Rayder for the Wildlings: don't try to fight the king's army, don't try to resist, just run, desperately run to the warmer south.

If they could seize a port and steal a few ships, that would be even better, they could board the ships and escape to the continent of Essos.

Mance Rayder's plan wasn't flawed, even though he had been burned alive, more Wildlings had managed to survive.

He didn't care about the fate of the people south of the Wall, everyone was out for themselves. They were barely surviving themselves, who cared if others could survive or not.

So, the Wildlings scattered, desperately fleeing to the south, not engaging in combat with the nobles or the king's army, and running into the forests whenever they encountered them.

However, it seemed that the Wildling tribe that attacked Seagard had gotten their directions wrong.

Even if they had captured Seagard and the ships, they could only reach the Iron Islands from there.

To reach the more prosperous and vast continent of Essos, they would need to navigate around the Summer Sea.

But Seagard was home to House Mallister, and Count Jason was not as incompetent as the Freys.

This brave count had once led his army to resist the Ironborn, killing the son of King Balon and driving them all back to the sea.

Now, these Wildlings trying to attack Seagard had really kicked an iron plate.

Subsequently, Jason Mallister led the soldiers of Seagard directly out of the city, repelled the Wildlings' attack, beheaded thousands, and drove the Wildlings all the way into the mountains of Flint's Finger.

These defeated Wildlings fled towards the Westerlands.

Meanwhile, in another location.

The Vale's strongest 'fortress', the Mountains of the Moon, was home to a large number of mountain clans.

It seemed that traces of the Wildlings had also appeared here.

However, these Wildling tribes did not clash with the mountain clans, both were tribes that did not submit to the king or the rule of the Lord of the Eyrie, and mainly survived by raiding.

They hid in the mountains, and the knights of the Vale couldn't enter the mountains to exterminate them, often encountering ambushes instead. The mountain clans had always been a major problem for the Vale.

Now, it seemed that the Wildling tribes and the mountain clans had joined forces, causing havoc along the Green Fork, the Kingsroad, and even in the towns and villages of the Vale, raiding caravans and travelers.

They disturbed the peace of the towns along the Mountains of the Moon, causing smoke to rise everywhere.

The damage caused by the influx of hundreds of thousands of Wildlings into the Seven Kingdoms was still ongoing, and like a spreading plague, it was rapidly expanding to various regions.

Now, traces of the Wildlings had successively appeared in the North, the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and the Vale.

However, this influence was still continuously advancing towards the south.

Perhaps it wouldn't be long before we see the shadows of these Wildlings near King's Landing and the Riverlands.

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King who was stationed in King's Landing, was already at his wits' end dealing with these issues.

But Viserys, thousands of miles away, found the reports quite interesting.

In truth, the destruction caused by the Wildlings was just a minor irritation, not enough to overthrow the rule of the Iron Throne.

Because apart from the Battle of Seagard, these Wildlings did not systematically attack castles, they merely harassed villages.

If they tried to attack King's Landing, that would truly be a death wish.

However, it was this kind of minor irritation that was incredibly annoying.

Jon Arryn couldn't possibly call for another conscription in the name of the king, leading a large army to roam around the world to wipe out these annoying Wildlings.

He could only let the nobles of each region clean up their own mess, rather than just driving them around.

Although the Battle of Seagard was a great victory, the Wildlings who were driven to the Westerlands caused a lot of destruction there, leading to protests from Casterly Rock.

Deal with your own problems, don't expect the king to clean up after you. What Jon Arryn feared most now was that these nobles would use the Wildlings as a tool for political struggle.

Those that could be killed were not killed, they just needed to drive them to their competitor's territory, causing them headaches.

Time flew by.

In the blink of an eye, it had been almost a year since Robert had led his troops to campaign in the North and left King's Landing.

However, at this time, another matter arose that made the already busy Jon Arryn even more anxious.

That was the rumor that suddenly spread in the streets of King's Landing.

Queen Cersei was pregnant.

Chapter 295: Turmoil

King Robert had been away from King's Landing for nearly a year, and suddenly the queen was pregnant?

Upon hearing this news, Jon Arryn felt as if his nose was about to twist in anger.

His first reaction was that this was a rumor.

Anyone could understand what this meant.

But if it really happened, Jon Arryn probably couldn't stop Robert from killing that harlot Cersei, and her adulterous lover.

The Lannister family might be dissatisfied with this, but Jon Arryn analyzed that a civil war would not likely occur.

Because Tywin Lannister could sacrifice anyone, except for his precious son Jaime.

Jon Arryn didn't know who the adulterer was yet, he could only hope that this was indeed a rumor.

He quickly summoned Jaime Lannister, Cersei's younger brother, to investigate the matter with him.

But this was just an excuse, the real intention was to put Jaime under house arrest.

Although Jon Arryn believed that if this was true, and the queen had indeed cuckolded the king, Tywin would ruthlessly sacrifice his own daughter.

But he didn't dare to gamble.

After all, he wasn't a worm in Tywin's belly, who knew what Tywin was thinking, he didn't dare to risk a civil war.

And now, Tywin's precious son Jaime was in their hands.

Jon Arryn had to control Jaime first, to prevent him from finding an opportunity to sneak out of King's Landing and escape back to the Westerlands.

If that happened, the Iron Throne would have no control over Casterly Rock, and if the Lannisters took advantage of the king leading the army to the North and rebelled, it would be troublesome.

Therefore, the actions of the old Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, were decisive, strong, and swift.

Although he was old, he wasn't so old that he couldn't walk.

Also, because of this, King's Landing was in a state of turmoil, and the people were in a state of panic.

Jon Arryn then sat on the Iron Throne to act on behalf of the king, commanding the gold cloaks to enter the Red Keep, controlling all the guards and servants in the Red Keep.

He had reason to suspect that the queen's adulterer was among these people, and anyone could be a witness to this matter.

However, the other Red Keep guards all put down their weapons, while the captain of the Kingsguard, 'Fearless' Barristan Selmy, led the other white knights to refuse to disarm and hand over Jaime.

He claimed that if they wanted to take the queen, they would have to step over his dead body first.

The two sides were at a stalemate outside Maegor's Holdfast, and the situation was tense.

After intensive negotiations between the Hand and the queen, a compromise was finally reached.

Jaime Lannister, a member of the Kingsguard, was temporarily put under house arrest, while Queen Cersei was in Maegor's Holdfast, undergoing an examination by Grand Maester Pycelle.

And during the examination, Barristan Selmy would accompany and supervise the whole process to ensure that the queen's dignity was not violated.

Afterwards.

The wobbly Grand Maester finally arrived inside Maegor's Holdfast, he first bowed slightly to Queen Cersei to apologize.

"Your Grace, the examination process may touch your body."

"Please forgive me."

Pycelle's voice was trembling.

But in a place where Jon Arryn and the captain of the Kingsguard couldn't see, the two of them exchanged a look, they had been in contact for a long time.

And seeing the look in Grand

Maester Pycelle's eyes, the regal woman with golden hair finally reined in some of the feigned anger on her face, snorted, and reluctantly nodded in agreement.

Then.

"Forgive me."

The Grand Maester's trembling hand reached into the queen's dress, gently caressing for a moment.

Feeling an old hand moving around on her body, Cersei didn't speak, but a clear look of disgust passed through her eyes.

Then the Grand Maester finally withdrew his hand.

"Lord Jon Arryn, Her Grace the Queen is not pregnant," the aged Grand Maester Pycelle said with certainty.

"If you do not trust my judgment, you can ask other maesters to confirm."

Standing nearby and hearing Grand Maester Pycelle's words, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, let out a small sigh of relief.

"No, I trust your judgment,"

"Grand Maester."

In fact, he hoped more than anyone that Cersei was not pregnant.

When the rumor first started, Jon Arryn didn't take it seriously.

It wasn't until the rumor was spreading like wildfire, and even the noble circle began to whisper and discuss the matter, that Jon Arryn had to respond, hence this desperate measure.

But he also knew that he had deeply offended the queen, and he felt a deep sense of guilt.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," the old Hand began to apologize to the queen.

However, the golden-haired queen, who had initially been full of anger, had become much calmer, and the anger on her face had dissipated considerably.

"This is not your fault, Lord Jon Arryn," Cersei took the initiative to forgive the old Hand, which did surprise Jon Arryn a bit.

Although the woman's eyes were still flashing with ruthlessness, she didn't seem very willing.

"By the Seven,"

"As long as the results can prove my innocence, that's enough."

Cersei wanted to use this opportunity to actively create an innocent image to protect her child.

"But the person who fabricated this rumor is insulting the honor of the royal family, their hearts can be condemned, their sins are unforgivable, they must be caught as soon as possible, and receive severe judgment!"

"These people must be the remnants of the Targaryens, trying to disturb the peace of King's Landing in this troubled autumn."

Then Cersei bit her silver teeth slightly, and put the blame on Viserys.

However, if Viserys were here to hear her words, he might feel wronged.

This rumor actually had nothing to do with him, he was far away in Pentos, how could he know about Cersei's pregnancy?

But Cersei knew very well.

With Robert gone from the Red Keep, no one could control her, and Cersei, in a moment of indulgence, didn't take precautions and accidentally got pregnant.

However, Cersei still held a glimmer of hope, she didn't want to abort the child, she wanted to quietly give birth.

But this matter was exposed by a bold maid, who said that the queen hadn't had her period for a long time, which caused this huge storm.

However, now that bold maid has sunk to the bottom of the well.

And Cersei's child has also disappeared under the carefully prepared moon tea by the colluding Grand Maester Pycelle.

But although the queen's pregnancy storm in King's Landing finally landed smoothly.

The sharp old Hand still noticed some unusual places.

A portion of the maids and guards in the Red Keep were taken away for secret questioning.

Chapter 296: The Year 292 AC

Westeros was in turmoil.

Soon, the year 292 AC arrived.

The largest army in the history of the continent of Westeros, a human alliance of sixty thousand strong, arrived at Winterfell.

Upon their arrival, they first suppressed a portion of the wildlings wreaking havoc in the North.

These once rampant wildling tribes faced the formidable southern noble soldiers and suffered a devastating blow.

The iron hooves of the allied forces thundered across the lands of the North. Knights swung their long swords, beheading wildlings and building gruesome spectacles.

The wildling tribes who thought they could find safety in the deep forests realized they had made a grave mistake.

The southern nobles were far wealthier than the northern nobles, and this was evident in the equipment of their soldiers. The southern noble soldiers were almost fully armored, covered in steel from head to toe.

These well-equipped elite soldiers, armed with shields and long swords, pursued the wildlings into the dense forests.

The wildlings' ambushes had little effect on these elite soldiers.

Weak arrows could not pierce the hard shields and armor, but sharp long swords could easily cleave their chests.

Even arrows soaked in oil were shot into the forest, illuminating their tracks.

Countless allied soldiers dipped their arrowheads in oil, then lit them on torches.

With unified command from their officers.

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

Boom, boom, boom...

Arrows aflame shot into the sky, then rained down like a spectacular shower of fire.

Countless wildlings hiding in the forest, ready to ambush, were illuminated by the firelight.

Thud, thud, thud...

A dense rain of fiery arrows fell, the burning arrowheads piercing flesh caused terrifying pain, and when they landed on leaves and branches, a great fire blazed.

The wildlings' end had come.

...

Because the wildling rebellion had gradually escalated, Robert had to make a tough decision to deal with them properly.

'Pacifying the bandits' was not impossible.

'Lord Yellow' had the ability to 'pacify the bandits'.

But what needed to be considered was the cost of 'pacifying the bandits'?

This cost and loss ratio, whether it was worth taking action, was worth considering. The cost of mobilizing the army and the consumption of military pay and food were astronomical.

In fact, many nobles were not incapable of 'pacifying the bandits', but after considering the loss situation, they felt it was not worth it.

But seeing the wildlings causing chaos in the Seven Kingdoms and gradually approaching the Crownlands, Robert was getting a bit anxious.

Robert once thought that sending troops to guard the causeway would be foolproof.

However, he made a mistake, treating the wildling tribes as a regular army.

Wildling tribes are not regular armies, they can even be said to be a mob, different from the enemies Robert had faced before.

Blocking the causeway is a way to deal with regular armies, but there are many small paths in the Neck.

The Crannogmen are extremely familiar with the terrain here, traveling through it on a daily basis.

Travelers can pass through, but armies cannot abandon their heavy wagons and travel through the narrow paths in the marshes and the waterways in the reeds.

Therefore, the causeway is the only route that can ensure the safe passage of a large army.

But the wildling tribes, who have lived in the harsh environment beyond the Wall for years, are different from the 'pampered' southern army.

They are just small teams based on tribal units, and crossing mountains and marshes is a common thing for wildlings.

For these routes that only the Crannogmen are familiar with, the wildlings also suffered and paid a great price to pass through the narrow paths in the marshes and the waterways in the reeds.

Seeing these wildlings spreading like a plague, Robert had no choice but to make a great effort to pacify them, even resorting to setting fire to the mountains.

However, the effects were immediate after Robert's stern measures.

Within a month, the wildlings who had been wreaking havoc in the entire North all disappeared collectively.

Countless heads rolled, of course, these fleeing wildlings were not all killed by Robert, but after killing a batch, the remaining ones became much more low-key and continued to hide, no longer as rampant as before.

After Robert led the sixty thousand human allied forces to make a great effort to pacify the bandits, the next step was to deal with the possible attack of the White Walkers.

Although the Horn of Winter did not completely collapse the Wall, it only collapsed a small section, and there was a gap in the Wall. It was impossible to repair it quickly now.

The construction of the Wall was extremely magnificent, almost beyond human capability.

Robert does not have the ability to call for a national reconstruction of the Wall now, he can only continue to patch it up, hoping it can still have some effect.

The cold winter wind was biting.

A fat man with a black beard held a heavy warhammer, his favorite weapon. This was a heavy two-handed hammer.

He looked at the Ghost Forest shrouded in the morning mist in the distance, silent for a long time.

Robert, who usually loved to drink, had been abstaining from alcohol for the past few days, perhaps feeling an increasing unease in his heart.

He didn't know what the White Walkers were, whether they could be killed with a single hammer blow.

However, he knew that this battle would be his toughest, perhaps even more critical than the Usurper's War.

Although he now ruled the Seven Kingdoms, with far more territory than the remaining Targaryens who had fled overseas, and had a large number of soldiers.

However, the internal strife in the Seven Kingdoms was too deep, causing mutual entanglement, making it difficult to unite and exert their strength.

For some reason, Robert suddenly wanted to meet that young man named Viserys Targaryen.

"Edd."

"We will defeat those damn White Walkers, right?"

Robert suddenly cursed, then turned his head to look at his good brother standing beside him.

Eddard Stark obviously knew Robert's temper well. The man was a loose cannon.

If he wasn't the heir to Storm's End, if Rhaegar hadn't taken his betrothed, he might have been a mercenary traveling the world, living in wine and women every day.

The man with dark brown hair furrowed his brows slightly, then slowly relaxed.

He was the same.

Eddard had an older brother, Brandon Stark, who was later burned alive by the 'Mad King'.

Therefore, Eddard was not originally trained as the heir to Winterfell, which is why he was sent to the Vale as Jon Arryn's ward.

"We will."

Eddard Stark took a deep breath and said.

"Just like before."

In the distant North.

The human allied forces were actively preparing fortifications.

And in Pentos.

Boom, boom, boom...

Another army of tens of thousands arrived at the gates of Pentos on the eve of the New Year.

Chapter 297: The Golden Company's Loyalty

The year 292 AC brought with it the celebration of the New Year.

"Your Grace."

"Your command is the direction of the Golden Company's banner."

In the palace atop the Nine Towers, Myles Toyne, the current commander of the Golden Company, knelt in the center of the grand hall, expressing his allegiance to King Viserys.

The Golden Company's banner was made from the skulls of its past commanders, boiled clean of flesh and gilded.

These golden skulls hung beneath the banner, always at the forefront of battle. Wherever the golden banner pointed, the warriors of the Golden Company bravely led the charge.

In fact, the Golden Company had made contact with Jon Connington and Viserys through Illyrio's connections half a year ago, before the Dothraki had attacked Pentos.

The Golden Company wished to pledge allegiance to House Targaryen, transforming from a mercenary group into a regular army of the Targaryen family.

The Golden Company, with over ten thousand soldiers, naturally had conditions for pledging allegiance to House Targaryen. They asked Illyrio and Jon Connington to negotiate these conditions.

Many of the Golden Company's commanders were descendants of the survivors of the 'Blackfyre Rebellion' during the Targaryen dynasty.

Among them, many were 'distant relatives' of Viserys, as Blackfyre itself was a branch of House Targaryen, a problem left by the legitimization of King Aegon IV's bastards.

However, they indeed had Targaryen blood, albeit very diluted.

The rest were descendants of nobles and knights who had sided with Daemon Blackfyre.

Their lands, titles, and wealth in Westeros had long been confiscated, forcing them to flee to Essos, unable to return home generation after generation.

The Golden Company initially asked Viserys to restore these nobles' lands and titles in return for their loyalty to House Targaryen and their help in retaking the Iron Throne.

However, this condition was firmly rejected by Viserys.

Although the loyalty of the Golden Company's ten thousand warriors was tempting, Viserys did not lack soldiers. He was not solely reliant on the Golden Company.

Under the new political system, everyone had a fresh start and the opportunity to become a noble and climb to a high position.

Easily granting high positions to the commanders of the Golden Company would discourage the soldiers who had been following Viserys in his campaigns.

Moreover, it would pose an obstacle to those nobles who wanted to surrender during the future attack on Westeros.

After Viserys rejected the Golden Company's condition, some time passed.

The war in which over eighty thousand Dothraki besieged Pentos ended in failure. The arrogant Dothraki rode away in defeat, like dogs with their tails between their legs.

After escaping from Pentos, the fleeing Dothraki turned their horses around and launched a sudden attack, brutally sacking Myr. The Golden Company, who had signed a contract with Myr, saw the situation was dire and for the first time broke their contract and fled to Volantis.

The Golden Company's flight from battle indirectly led to Myr's defenseless massacre by the Dothraki.

Not long after this incident, a messenger from the Golden Company arrived in Pentos again.

This time they did not mention the previous conditions and were much more humble.

The Golden Company only asked Viserys to issue a written decree pardoning the descendants of the families involved in the 'Blackfyre Rebellion'.

They wanted to participate in the promotion system fairly and regain their ancestral titles and lands through military merit.

Viserys did not hesitate long to agree to the Golden Company's new condition.

If the people of the Golden Company were descendants of 'rebels', then the Westerosi nobles who now swore allegiance to the usurpers and caused House Targaryen to lose the Iron Throne were also 'rebels'.

If Viserys could forgive them, why couldn't he accept the Golden Company?

Moreover, the 'Blackfyre Rebellion' that had occurred didn't really have much to do with him.

Because he wasn't a true 'Targaryen', a fact known only to him.

And the nation he wanted to build was not a continuation of the Targaryen dynasty.

It was more like the relationship between the Western Han and Eastern Han dynasties, with little connection beyond the name.

In the future history, it wouldn't be the great Targaryen dynasty that experienced ten years of rebellion and turmoil, with the Iron Throne briefly stolen by usurpers, and then the great King Viserys III raising an army across the Narrow Sea to retake the Iron Throne.

Viserys had established a completely different system in Andalos and Pentos.

He wasn't the real 'Viserys', nor was he from this world, which was his biggest secret.

He had been fortunate to receive a good education, growing up in a peaceful and comfortable environment, without war, hunger, or poverty.

That's why Viserys, as an adult just arriving in this world, seemed so helpless and fearful.

Even killing a person, which seemed commonplace to the people of this world, required a great deal of courage.

Viserys knew what a more advanced political system looked like in the future, with the people in charge, but he couldn't simply copy it.

Because things too far ahead of their time, if forced, would only cause bigger problems.

That's why Viserys spent a long time contemplating, starting from when Andalos was first established.

After several years of learning and understanding, he patched up the existing political and noble system of this world, adding some useful patches from his perspective.

For example, curbing the power of the landed nobility, strengthening centralization, separating military and political affairs, and enhancing the system of promotion through military merit.

Because of these policies, the Targaryen army maintained its high combat effectiveness.

This wasn't just achieved through training.

For these reasons, Viserys could say that the nation he wanted to build was not a continuation of the Targaryen dynasty, and Oberyn could consider Viserys a very special person.

'History is a wheel, rolling forward, starting from one point, turning a full circle, and returning to the original point, repeating itself.'

Oberyn believed that Viserys would break this repeating wheel, allowing the era to transform and bring about different changes.

Viserys agreed to the Golden Company's condition, accepting these descendants of once guilty nobles and knights.

He personally wrote a decree, pardoning their crimes in the name of King Viserys III.

In fact, Viserys could understand these descendants of criminals.

Having a decree gave the commanders of the Golden Company peace of mind, so they wouldn't worry that Viserys would suddenly turn against them one day.

Chapter 298: Killing a Crow

The Golden Company received a decree of pardon, written by Viserys himself and sealed with the dragon sigil of House Targaryen.

When the messenger brought this decree back to Volantis, it caused a great stir within the Golden Company.

Some were content with their lives here and did not wish to return to Westeros, but many more commanders of the Golden Company were moved to tears of joy.

Returning to their homeland had always been a wish passed down from their forefathers.

Many had seen this wish turn into a dying wish, unfulfilled and passed on to their descendants.

But now, this wish was finally coming true.

They were to be the vanguard, returning to Westeros!

Viserys pardoning their crimes meant that after reclaiming the Iron Throne, they could return to their homeland and earn titles through their merits.

Although Robert could also pardon their crimes, the Golden Company was more inclined towards House Targaryen.

After all, the Blackfyre Rebellion was a family matter of House Targaryen. What was a usurper like Robert in comparison?

Robert had only ascended the Iron Throne due to his grandmother, Rhaelle Targaryen's thin bloodline. With the most legitimate Targaryen heir as a better option, the Golden Company naturally looked down on Robert.

Regardless of red or black, a dragon is a dragon.

Some contracts are written in ink, others in blood.

The Golden Company, with its tens of thousands of soldiers, joined House Targaryen, becoming the kingdom's fourth legion.

The first legion was composed of Andal warriors who had followed Viserys from the beginning. The second was primarily made up of the conquered Rhoynar. The third legion was the twenty thousand Dothraki, who answered directly to Viserys and were now commanded by Khal Drogo.

The fourth legion was the Golden Company, composed of exiled nobles and soldiers from the Seven Kingdoms who had wandered Essos, still led by 'Blackheart' Myles Toyne.

Although he was called 'Blackheart', and Myles Toyne was quite ugly, unlike his distant ancestor Terrence Toyne who was dark-skinned, handsome, and dashing, he had a crooked chin and pot-shaped ears.

However, Myles Toyne was not cruel. He was a just and steadfast knight at heart, otherwise, he wouldn't have become friends with Jon Connington.

His nickname was simply because his family's sigil looked like a black heart.

At this time, a grand ceremony was being held in Pentos to celebrate the New Year and welcome the arrival of the Golden Company.

Viserys sat on the throne at the highest point of the great hall, wearing a crown, and accepted the allegiance of Myles Toyne and many commanders of the Golden Company.

Harry Strickland, Bennard Beery, Dick Cole, Gorys Edoryen, and others were present.

The great hall was bustling, filled with commanders of the Golden Company, Jon Connington, Bessie Joyce, the Beggar Prince, the Sand Snakes, and Arianne sat next to Viserys.

Rhaenys and Daenerys did not attend the banquet; they had gone to play in the city of Pentos.

It was a grand banquet.

All the guests raised their glasses together, wishing Viserys would reclaim the Iron Throne soon and wishing for his long reign.

During the banquet, Tyene Sand, the third of the Sand Snakes, with her golden hair and sweet looks, was still subtly flirting with Viserys.

"Hey..."

Her watery light blue eyes locked onto the handsome side profile of the silver-haired
young man.

"Your Grace."

"Am I beautiful?"

Then, under the table, the girl quietly took Viserys's hand.

The Sand Snakes' desire to climb into Viserys's bed and become his lovers was no secret in the palace.

However, Arianne seemed to not mind at all. She never expected Viserys to have only her.

The promiscuous nature of the Dornish was well known to all. Keeping mistresses was a normal operation, and bastards and mistresses in Dorne were not considered a disgrace to a noble's honor.

Oberyn himself played even more flamboyantly, as he was a man who enjoyed both sexes. He believed that God created two genders, and if you only favored one, you would lose the pleasure of the other half.

After the banquet, Viserys had drunk quite a bit of wine, but due to his unique constitution, he managed to stay mostly sober.

"My love, slow down."

In the corridor, Arianne helped Viserys back to his room, holding a lamp in her hand, and then pushed open the door.

In his room, there was an unexpected guest. It wasn't one of the Sand Snakes appearing in Viserys's bedroom.

It was a large black cat, with a dead crow in its mouth. It seemed to have climbed in from the balcony.

The dead crow was placed on the windowsill, and the black cat squatted next to it, not in a hurry to taste the delicacy. Instead, it licked its paw and wiped its face.

"Huh?"

"Killed a crow?"

Viserys, who had just drunk quite a bit of wine, was slightly taken aback when he saw this scene as soon as he entered the room.

Ever since Viserys had infused the black mist into the black cat, Balerion hadn't shown any special changes.

Viserys had observed it carefully for a few days at first, but later simply gave up.

However, after so much time had passed, Viserys hadn't paid much attention to this black cat.

Only now did he notice that it seemed to have gotten a bit thinner, and its eyes had become more lively.

Balerion used to have trouble climbing trees due to its size, let alone catching birds in trees. But now, it had killed a large black crow.

Balerion's progress made Viserys take a second look.

More importantly, he had some initial guesses about the effect of the black mist on Balerion.

Chapter 299:   Chapter 299: Experiment

The next morning dawned.

Several palace guards had their faces scratched in the process of catching a cat.

They were puzzled as to why King Viserys had suddenly taken a fancy to having them fetch Balerion.

At first, the guards thought the king wanted them to venture out of the city to find the black dragon, Balerion, which made them a bit apprehensive.

After all, a dragon heeding the command of the true king would not pay heed to the words of mere foot soldiers.

They had witnessed the horrific scene of Balerion burning the Dothraki when they were atop the city walls. They feared that they might be roasted by dragon fire if they failed to explain themselves properly.

Such a death would be in vain, and no one would avenge them.

However, when Viserys saw their misunderstanding, he explained that he was not asking them to fetch the black dragon, but to bring the black cat that had been strutting around the palace. Both the black cat and the black dragon shared the same name.

Upon hearing King Viserys's explanation, the guards breathed a sigh of relief.

"Understood, Your Grace."

They didn't have the courage to deal with a dragon, but catching a cat should not be a problem.

With confidence, the guards set off.

"Someone."

After pondering for a moment, Viserys had someone arrange for ten chickens to be caught from the kitchen.

Because today, he wanted to conduct an experiment.

The ten chickens were quickly brought over and confined in an unused hut.

However, the cat that Viserys had ordered to be caught had not yet arrived. Just as Viserys was beginning to wonder, the guards arrived late, carrying a tightly bound cat.

The guards looked somewhat miserable, with bloody scratches on their faces and arms.

"This..."

Viserys was slightly taken aback. Seeing their state, he could almost imagine the intense scene of the cat-catching battle.

"Were you... beaten by a cat?"

Viserys couldn't help but ask, looking at the pitiful state of the guards.

He remembered Balerion being very friendly towards people, round and plump, often lying in the sun.

The guards looked at each other when they heard King Viserys's words and lowered their heads in shame.

They hadn't expected the combat prowess of this fat cat to be so high.

The cat-catching operation was full of ups and downs. Even after catching the cat, they were scratched all over their faces by the cat's relentless claws.

In the end, they had no choice but to tie Balerion up with a rope and bring him to Viserys.

"Meow~"

The tightly bound black cat, looking like a dumpling, let out a protest.

It mumbled a few times, but couldn't move.

Viserys couldn't help but smile at the sight of the cat's miserable state, barely holding back his laughter.

"Alright, you've worked hard."

"You may leave now. Have the doctor prescribe some medicine for you."

Viserys then waved his hand to dismiss the useless guards. He then untied the big black cat. Balerion, just released, tried to escape.

"Trying to run?"

But it couldn't make any waves in Viserys's hands.

He skillfully grabbed the back of its neck and lifted it up.

"Do you see these chickens?"

Viserys, holding Balerion, pointed at the ten restless chickens in the room.

In just a moment, they had already left several droppings on the ground.

"Go."

"Kill them." Viserys directly ordered Balerion. He wanted to see if the black cat's combat power had changed.

However, it was unclear whether Balerion understood Viserys's words. There seemed to be some confusion on its small face.

But it seemed to roughly understand his meaning, and a whimper came from its mouth.

It just didn't understand why Viserys would order it to kill these chickens?

The big black cat was then put down. But before it could attack the chickens... the chickens came looking for trouble with Balerion.

Suddenly taken away from their living place and the appearance of an unknown creature in their group, the roosters immediately charged over, intending to peck at the big black cat.

Balerion originally didn't want to provoke these chickens, but it didn't expect these chickens to come looking for trouble.

It was immediately enraged.

"Meow~"

The big black cat let out a sharp and mournful whimper, then skillfully dodged the rooster's attack.

Like a tiger descending a mountain, it pounced fiercely, opening its sharp teeth and biting directly into a chicken's throat.

Blood instantly gushed out, staining the fur under Balerion's chin red.

"Hmm?"

Viserys, who had been smiling just now, had his smile fade slightly at the sight of Balerion's counterattack after being provoked by the roosters.

"Quite impressive..."

Normally, a cat would have a hard time defeating a mature rooster.

But Balerion's performance now was...

Viserys squinted his eyes and watched the chaos in the room, feathers flying everywhere. Balerion demonstrated an extraordinary combat power, far surpassing its previous strength.

No wonder the guards had such a hard time catching a cat earlier, and ended up with scratched faces.

It seemed he had wronged them.

Balerion's speed, reaction, and strength were all drastically different from before.

"Could this be the effect of the black mist?"

Viserys thought to himself.

At this moment, three of the ten roosters had already been killed by Balerion, and the rest had all been scared away.

"It must be."

If it wasn't for the black mist, Viserys couldn't explain the drastic change in the cat in such a short time.

"The black mist can enhance an individual's abilities, but I don't know if there's a limit to this enhancement."

Viserys couldn't see if Balerion had absorbed any black mist after killing those chickens, which was what he cared about.

However, logically, it shouldn't, because Viserys had conducted experiments before, he had killed many different kinds of animals, and none of them had black mist.

Only humans with intelligence have black mist, so Viserys guessed that the black mist should be the soul.

And Viserys himself is now the source of the black mist, and the black mist in Balerion is what he gave. The black cat itself does not have the ability to absorb the black mist.

This is equivalent to Viserys being the source of all black mist, and other people or animals who are given the black mist by him are just seeds, their strength is enhanced.

"Can they help me collect the black mist?"

A bold idea crossed Viserys's mind.

Viserys had personally executed many death row inmates, but he received a reasonable suggestion that a king should not become an executioner.

But now, if Viserys can 'give' the black mist and let others help him collect the black mist, wouldn't that be more convenient?

This idea crossed Viserys's mind.

But the only thing he has experimented with so far is the black cat. He can't let the black cat attack and kill a human. This matter still needs to be confirmed in the future.

"It seems I should find a trustworthy person to test this." Viserys took a deep breath, silently resolving in his heart.

Chapter 300: The Chosen One

Hello everyone, translator here. Here is your missing 25th chapter. I've already deleted the repeating chapter and updated the chapter numbers to correspond to the correct number.

Please enjoy.

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In this world, ravens have always been shrouded in mystery.

At least, Viserys has always been wary of these black-feathered birds. He knows that in the cold lands of eternal winter, there exists an entity he doesn't quite know how to explain...

Is he a god? Or... a demigod? One thing is certain, like Viserys, he has transcended the limitations of the mortal body.

Perhaps both of them now exist in a special state between gods and mortals. And this entity has some connection with ravens.

Even from a psychological perspective, Viserys, holding onto his past life's habits, sees ravens as harbingers of misfortune. He once used ravens as live targets during his archery practice.

Perhaps the ravens later realized that this man didn't welcome them, and so they flew away. However, the fact that the black cat had caught a raven on its own intrigued Viserys, leading to today's experiment.

He didn't expect the black cat's strength to have increased so significantly, and the experiment with the black fog on the cat was a great success. Now, a trustworthy person was needed to undertake the next experiment.

What Viserys knows now is that the black fog 'grants' others a significant increase in power.

As for side effects?

He's not sure.

After the experiment, Viserys ordered the servants to clean up the mess in the room. The ten unfortunate roosters had all been killed by the black cat.

However, these ten chickens wouldn't go to waste. They could be sent outside the city along with other food for the three dragons to feast on.

Later, Viserys, holding the black cat, returned to his study.

The young king sat in his chair, pondered for a moment, and then ordered the guard to fetch Bessie.

"Wool, go get Lord Bessie Joyce."

Wool is the guard who got his face scratched this morning. He's obedient and smart, always staying by Viserys's side as a guard, running errands on ordinary days.

Bessie, on the other hand, was once Viserys's Kingsguard and also a son of a warrior of the Faith of the Seven.

Viserys trusts Bessie immensely, even more so than Oberyn.

Because Viserys knows that if he ever falls out with Dorne one day, Oberyn will definitely stand on Dorne's side.

But Bessie is his own confidant.

To be precise, Bessie was brought up by William Derry, the master-at-arms of the Red Keep.

After a while, Bessie Joyce arrived outside Viserys's study.

"Lord Commander."

"Lord Commander."

The guards outside the door greeted Bessie as they saw him.

"Uh-huh."

Bessie nodded, then knocked on the door.

"Your Grace."

After hearing Viserys's voice, he pushed the door and walked in.

"Your Grace."

Bessie entered Viserys's study. The man was dressed in a plain white robe with a white cloak, a long sword hanging from his waist.

Those who are qualified to wear the white robe are not many, and Bessie is one of them.

Because he is also currently serving as the commander of Viserys's Kingsguard, even though this is just a nominal position.

Since Bessie left his side, Viserys has not appointed another member of the Kingsguard.

He only has ordinary guards by his side, not the poetic 'white-cloaked knights'.

The rules for selecting Kingsguard are very complex, and loyalty must be
ensured until death, even in old age, physical disability, or mental breakdown.

Although Bessie no longer has the strength to wield a sword, as long as Viserys doesn't dismiss him, he remains the commander of Viserys's Kingsguard.

"Sit!"

"Bessie."

Viserys, sitting behind his desk without lifting his head, casually asked,

"How is the military affairs going?"

Bessie and he are old friends, so there's no need for excessive formalities.

The two sat in chairs, chatted casually for a bit, and then Viserys didn't beat around the bush and said directly,

"Bessie, I have something, I don't know if you're willing to try."

Viserys didn't hide anything, but directly explained the matter of the black fog.

However, he didn't describe it in detail, but used the words he had joked with Arianne, describing this black fog as a kind of divine power.

And Viserys is the source of this divine power, he can freely grant this divine power to everyone around him.

Of course, the quantity is limited, and those who receive his divine power can greatly enhance their strength, and perhaps it will also help to recover from their injuries.

Viserys spoke directly.

And Bessie, who had been through great disasters and always had a calm mentality, couldn't help but open his mouth slightly under his mask.

"What?"

"Divine power?"

Bessie was slightly shocked, his voice muffled under the mask, and he spoke incredulously.

What the King said was too fantastical, making it hard for him to believe.

Enhance strength? Recover from injuries?

However, as a former Kingsguard of Viserys, Bessie is naturally very familiar with Viserys.

When the King speaks so seriously to him, he knows it's not a joke.

"Your Grace."

"Is the divine power you mentioned given by the Seven Gods?"

After Bessie was slightly shocked, he quickly asked.

As a firm believer in the Faith of the Seven, he clearly remembers Viserys's boastful claim of being crowned by the Seven Gods.

It was only after later contact that he realized that Viserys had hardly ever visited the Sept, let alone devoutly believed. It was all nonsense.

And now Viserys brought up divine power, Bessie naturally thought of the Seven Gods he believed in.

"No..."

"Not the Seven Gods."

But Viserys, facing the somewhat excited Bessie, shook his head slightly.

"I don't know which god it is."

Viserys didn't explain the connection between the black fog and Valyria, but he was sure it had nothing to do with the Seven Gods.

Because the Seven Gods don't speak Valyrian.

Getting Viserys's negative answer, Bessie was a bit hesitant.

But he quickly adjusted his state, then nodded and said firmly, "I'm willing to try, Your Grace."

Chapter 301: The Effect of the Black Fog

Hello everyone, translator here. I tried a new translation script out for this next batch of chapters, please let me know if they quality has improved, stayed the same, or gotten worse. If you think it's gotten worse can you please leave some details as to where the quality has gone down so I can take that feed back and keep tinkering with my process to keep on improving.

This goes double for any comments on the progression of the story, I still keep that early review someone left on this book that said the quality dropped off a cliff somewhere in the 300s and any feedback from those of you who have kept with this book until now would be great. If there is a point where a majority of people feel this book is no longer for them or their interest is killed completely I will drop the book and look for some new projects to take the place of it on my release schedule.

Thank you for your support and please enjoy.

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Bessie was willing to take risks and trust his king because it was Viserys who had changed his fate.

Without Viserys, he might still be an ordinary hunter in a village, even worrying about the attacks of the Brotherhood and bandits on the village.

Even though Bessie was a brave warrior before he was injured, he could not fight against multiple enemies at once. He might have died under the blade of a bandit any day.

That's how Bessie's father died.

Viserys, seeing Bessie's agreement, didn't make a fuss.

He asked him to stand in front of him and remove the mask from his face.

Bessie, a warrior of the Andals, had suffered severe burns. His face was unrecognizable, so he wore a metal mask all year round and was tightly wrapped from head to toe.

He was afraid that his appearance would scare others. Viserys once suggested finding a noblewoman for him, but Bessie politely refused.

And now, Viserys looked at the grotesque and terrifying face in front of him, and his heart couldn't help but thump slightly.

Although he had seen Bessie's appearance before, he couldn't help but feel a bit tense every time he saw it.

"If you feel anything unusual, you must speak up immediately..."

The silver-haired young man, who was in stark contrast to Bessie's current appearance, instructed.

"I'm starting."

Bessie, who had become a legion commander and suddenly removed his mask in front of others, was a bit nervous.

Then he saw King Viserys raise a hand, and a black fog gradually condensed in his palm.

"This is..."

On that dark and grotesque face, Bessie's eyes were still clear, slightly widened.

Because he really saw a black fog condensing from Viserys's palm.

He even wondered if it was his illusion, he faintly heard a sound like a ghost's wail.

"Could this be..."

Bessie had just thought of something in his mind, but before he could think further, Viserys pressed the black fog in his palm to his forehead.

Whoosh~

The black fog, bit by bit, entered Bessie's forehead through Viserys's palm.

Time slowly passed.

Bessie felt a cold power flowing into his body.

He couldn't help but shiver, and then began to feel some changes in his body.

This feeling was indescribable, but he just felt closer to King Viserys, as if there was a kind of telepathic feeling.

What's going on?

Bessie was confused, but he didn't feel anything unusual, so he didn't speak.

After Viserys completely injected the black fog, he slowly withdrew his hand when Bessie's body showed a rejection reaction and bounced the black fog back.

"It's done."

"How do you feel?"

Viserys then asked.

"Hmm..."

Bessie pondered for a moment, then said.

"My strength has increased a bit, and my body seems to have recovered somewhat."

Bessie's understanding was different from Viserys's. He felt that the black fog was like a life energy, not a soul, and it helped him repair his broken body.

The excitement was not hard to hear in the man's words with dark hair. After all, it had been so long since he was burned.

He had given up on himself, thinking that he would never be able to wield a sword in his life. But he didn't expect Viserys to give him another chance.

Bessie clenched his fist slightly, there was still a bit of
pain between his fingers, but it was much better than before. He then drew his sword from his waist.

Clang—

The sword light illuminated the entire study.

The guards outside seemed to hear the sound of drawing a sword from the study and immediately asked.

"Your Grace, what happened?"

However, Viserys was very calm, he stepped back a bit, giving Bessie some space.

Hearing the words of the guards outside, he calmly said.

"It's nothing."

The long-lost feeling of holding a sword was really good.

Due to severe burns, Bessie had injured the joints of his fingers, so it became a bit difficult to hold a sword.

The maester diagnosed at that time that he would probably never be able to wield a sword again in his life, of course, this referred to sword fighting.

But now, Bessie held the hilt of the sword tightly with his five fingers. Although his skin was still charred and terrifying, there was a surging vitality under this terrifying skin.

"Although I haven't fully recovered, this feeling is really good."

Bessie swung his long sword forcefully, trying hard to feel the changes in his body, and said joyfully.

Then he suddenly realized that he was too excited just now and actually swung his sword in front of King Viserys.

Then he quickly sheathed his sword with a snap, and knelt on one knee subconsciously to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace."

For someone like him who had been seriously injured, such a violent action was still a bit unbearable. The tearing pain came, making Bessie, who was kneeling on one knee, twitch slightly.

However, Viserys just blinked, he was observing Bessie's changes, then reached out and helped his Kingsguard up.

"If your body has recovered a bit, that's good. Maybe after a while, things will get better."

Viserys pondered for a moment, then said.

The black cat didn't show any changes at first, but later these changes became more and more obvious.

"You are the first person to receive this divine power."

Viserys was saying something.

At this moment, his eyebrows twitched slightly, and his words stopped here.

Because he seemed to suddenly perceive Bessie's emotions.

He seemed to be very grateful to him. Although he didn't seem particularly excited on the surface, Bessie's heart was like a stormy sea, so much so that he had just forgotten about his injuries.

What's going on?

Viserys suddenly remembered that not long ago when he ordered the black cat to kill those chickens, he seemed to vaguely feel the 'confused' emotion transmitted by the black cat.

Is this the same as with Balerion...

Do we have a connection?

Viserys only realized at this moment that there was such a vague connection between Balerion and him.

Balerion seemed to have absorbed a lot of black fog when he was just an egg.

And when Balerion was hatched, his growth rate was much faster than his brothers, and there was a direct mental connection between the dragon and the person.

"So that's what the black fog does?"

Viserys's eyes brightened slightly, he finally understood what the black fog did.

He was the source of the black fog, and those who received the black fog were like his servants, who could enhance their abilities.

At the same time, a mental connection would be established between them and the master.

Just like the connection he had heard about in his previous life between a vampire and its converted servant.

Chapter 302: Farewell

Melisandre, who hadn't appeared in Viserys' sight for a long time, had been very busy recently.

This woman, hailing from distant Asshai, had traveled thousands of miles to the Free Cities for a purpose.

Recently, her flurry of activities was naturally related to the collapsing Wall in Westeros, the traces of the White Walkers, and the human alliance.

Simply put, she believed that the one who would ultimately defeat the White Walkers would be Viserys.

That's why she firmly stood by the side of the true king.

However, Melisandre understood Viserys' temperament. Although she wished to persuade Viserys to join the human alliance against the White Walkers, she wouldn't do so.

After all, she wasn't Viserys' great-uncle, Maester Aemon, an elder whom Viserys respected.

What he could say, Melisandre couldn't, even though both stood from the perspective of righteousness, ignoring personal honor and disgrace.

This righteousness was for the true good of all mankind.

However... Viserys was a very pragmatic person.

Forget hatred, why should he?

He didn't want Westeros to become a ghost town, but helping Robert was absolutely impossible.

Robert Baratheon had sent assassins to kill Viserys countless times, his mother Rhaella died because of this, Viserys certainly wouldn't forget easily.

Unless Robert took off his crown, knelt down and surrendered, peacefully transferring power, but Viserys knew this was impossible for Robert's fiery temper.

Clang, clang—

In the garden below the palace, the sound of metal clashing was incessant.

Viserys and Melisandre were walking and talking in the long corridor above, while two boys in leather armor were practicing swordsmanship below.

One had silver hair and violet eyes, handsome in appearance.

The other boy had black hair and blue eyes, slightly taller.

The silver-haired boy's attack was sharp, clearly having received strict training, every move was precise.

The black-haired boy, on the other hand, was constantly on the defensive, and his swordsmanship was more practical, wide and open.

"He should use a hammer, just like his father."

Viserys, with his sharp eyes, commented.

If there were still titles like the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms, Viserys would undoubtedly deserve it.

He had completely transcended humanity, becoming a special existence between gods and mortals.

Gendry, having witnessed his master push a living person into the furnace for a blood sacrifice to forge a sword, gave up being a blacksmith and instead became a regular guard in the castle.

No one knew his true identity, not even himself.

This time, coming from Andalos to Pentos, he was merely selected to accompany the main force.

Since Gendry was the youngest among the guards, Aegon naturally approached him, and the two boys of the same age naturally became friends.

"This child has the blood of a king."

Viserys and Melisandre stood on the edge of the corridor, watching the fight below, then the red-haired woman spoke.

Viserys could see every move clearly, and Melisandre's eyes were equally sharp, but what she saw was different from Viserys.

"Oh?"

The silver-haired young man raised an eyebrow at the words of the red-robed witch.

"Are you talking about Aegon?"

He thought Melisandre was talking about Aegon's identity, could this Aegon really be his elder brother Rhaegar's son?

Dragon dreams often carry important revelations, Viserys had dreamed of Balerion's birth, but as for

Aegon's existence, Viserys hadn't dreamed of it yet.

"No."

Melisandre paused for a moment, then shook her head slightly.

"I'm talking about the black-haired boy, Your Grace."

"Gendry?"

Viserys finally realized.

Gendry had been in Andalos with his master, Tobho Mott, for a long time, so much so that Viserys hadn't reacted just now. Now that he thought about it, Gendry truly was of royal blood.

Viserys didn't know how the witches discerned 'king's blood'.

In his impression, the illegitimate children of kings, the son of Mance Rayder, even the son of a horse king, were all considered 'royal bloodline'.

If a village chief declared himself a king, would his son count as king's blood?

If so, wouldn't king's blood be mass-produced?

A strange thought suddenly crossed Viserys' mind.

Melisandre, of course, didn't know what strange thoughts were going through the seemingly serious king's mind. She was here today to bid farewell to Viserys.

She was about to leave the continent of Essos and head to Westeros, to scout the way for the true king.

Because she sensed that the power of the Cold God had crossed the Wall and was invading the whole world.

The magic barrier that blocked the cold had collapsed. If the power of the Cold God completely crossed the Wall and the cold wind swept across Westeros,

The whole world, including Dorne, and even the continent of Essos, would fall into an endless night and bone-chilling cold.

Humanity would be extinct, and all things would wither.

"This is an era of the return of magical tides."

Melisandre warned solemnly.

Although Arianne often felt wary of this woman, Melisandre was not a woman who relied on selling her body.

When her expression became serious, it would inevitably inspire awe.

"From the dawn of the era, the Children of the Forest had already begun to be active on the land of Westeros."

Magic had appeared even earlier, and the First Men began to fight with the Children of the Forest.

And the tide of magic reached its peak during the Age of Heroes, when the Long Night covered the world, and many heroes awakened among humans all over the world.

Legend has it that some of them killed evil gods, some defeated terrible enemies and saved the world, some built the magnificent Wall with magic.

Melisandre believed this could very well be another era when the tide of magic reached its peak.

Because in the last such era, the traces of the White Walkers began to appear, and the same is true this time.

The power of magic is emerging more and more, dragons, White Walkers, the horn that broke the Wall, the Heart of Fallen Stars from the sky, the dense fog covering the ruins of Valyria is said to have become denser, even constantly rolling outwards, actively swallowing some passing ships.

All legends have been confirmed as true, and more mysterious powers may appear in the future.

Before leaving, Melisandre warned Viserys to be careful of witches like her.

The increasing power of magic might lead some to use witchcraft against him, after all, Viserys had offended too many people.

Viserys nodded slightly, he took Melisandre's warning to heart.

And a few days later.

Woo—

From the direction of the port of Pentos came the melodious sound of a horn.

Chapter 303: The Unsullied Arrive

The port of Pentos echoed with the desolate sound of a horn.

Boom—

Simultaneously, the melodious tolling of a massive bell rang out.

Splash…

A fleet of colossal warships, bearing the banner of the three-headed dragon, cleaved through the waves crashing against the pier. They docked in order at the port of Pentos, causing a deep, thunderous rumble.

On the decks of the warships stood soldiers in gleaming armor, each holding a spear and a round shield. Their expressions were stern and meticulous, resembling ruthless killing machines.

Soon.

Splash—

The sound of iron chains echoed as the ships anchored securely. People on the port and the ships were loudly discussing something, then the gangways from the ships were lowered.

A portly man, dressed in a long, earthy-yellow robe and adorned with numerous ornate rings, disembarked from the warship.

He was the Master of Finance of the new dynasty.

Illyrio, who had traveled thousands of miles to Astapor to purchase the Unsullied, had returned.

He led Viserys' plunder of the vast wealth of the ruling family of Pentos to Slaver's Bay and brought back five thousand elite Unsullied warriors.

His journey took nearly a year, during which there was no news from him. Viserys even thought Illyrio had gone missing.

However, he finally returned today.

As an elite force, five thousand Unsullied was an enormous number, and their combat power was even more astonishing.

Illyrio's negotiation skills were commendable. With Viserys' wealth, he bargained and nearly bought all the Unsullied in Astapor.

It's worth noting that Astapor only had eight thousand qualified Unsullied left, the rest were still unfinished products, not fully trained.

Astapor paid great attention to the quality of their merchandise. They would never sell Unsullied who hadn't completed their training as finished products.

Doing so would only tarnish the reputation of the Unsullied and the business reputation of Astapor.

The Unsullied army, composed of five thousand soldiers, stayed at the port. Illyrio, who had just completed his mission and returned to Pentos, rode a carriage to the palace atop the Nine Towers.

"Master Mopatis."

Servants along the way bowed to him.

Illyrio, however, paid them no mind. He hurriedly walked to meet Viserys, inquiring about the arrangements for the five thousand Unsullied.

"So this is the Harpy?"

Viserys toyed with a command staff that Illyrio had handed over to him. It was said that the Unsullied would unconditionally execute the commands of the person holding this staff.

Even if it was to attack their former masters.

"Yes, Your Grace."

The portly Illyrio stood before Viserys' desk, speaking respectfully.

This long journey had only made his skin a bit darker due to prolonged sun exposure, with no other effects.

He hadn't even lost weight. It seemed that no matter where he went, Illyrio never forgot to indulge himself.

"Brick and blood built Astapor, brick and blood built her people."

"Astapor was once a colony of the Ghiscari Empire. The symbol of the Ghiscari Empire was this monster with a woman's body and bat wings for arms."

"Later, the Ghiscari Empire was annihilated by the Freehold of Valyria about five thousand years ago. Today, Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are cities built by the survivors of the Ghiscari Empire."

Illyrio explained. Slaver's Bay was built on the
ruins of the Ghiscari Empire and has now become the hub of the global slave trade.

"How do you plan to arrange these Unsullied warriors?"

Illyrio then asked.

Using the Unsullied to maintain city defense seemed a bit extravagant. These elite warriors shouldn't be used for such simple tasks.

However, the kingdom is currently at peace, and aside from staying in the city, the Unsullied have nowhere else to go. Moreover, the Unsullied don't rob or rape, making them the best choice for city defense.

"Let's keep them in Pentos for now." Viserys pondered for a moment before speaking.

If a war arises, they can be dispatched to join the conflict. For now, Pentos needs to recuperate. The previous wars were too frequent, and Viserys wants his soldiers to calm down and get ample rest.

They will quietly wait for the battle between Robert's Seven Kingdoms Alliance and the White Walkers.

In the afternoon.

Viserys, fully armored and riding a white horse, inspected the Unsullied troops in the grandest square in Pentos.

Each Unsullied soldier stood tall, holding a spear and a round shield, unmoving under the cold wind beneath the sun.

"This is Andal, Rhoynar, and the First Men, the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and the protector of the realm, the Lord of Andalos, the protector of Pentos, the 'True Dragon' crowned by the Seven Gods, King Viserys Targaryen III."

The guard standing next to Viserys announced loudly, his voice echoing in the silence, reaching far and wide.

Whoosh~A cold wind blew, the five thousand Unsullied soldiers below didn't make a sound. Their faces were resolute under their spiked helmets, their eyes lifeless. The long list of titles and the dazzling glory of Viserys couldn't make them flinch.

"From now on!"

"He is your king!"

The guard, seeing this scene, swallowed hard, then continued to shout, trying to make sure all the Unsullied could hear.

However, the eyes of the Unsullied were locked on the young man with silver-gold hair and the Harpy command staff hanging from his waist.

They didn't submit to him because he was a king, a protector, or a dragon lord.

But because of the Harpy command staff hanging from his waist. This was akin to the tiger tally for commanding the Unsullied.

The most important part of the 'training' the Unsullied received, even more important than their combat skills, was...

Obedience.

Viserys rode on a snow-white warhorse, the Harpy command staff hanging from his waist.

He quietly observed the Unsullied army lined up in front of him, a powerful pressure bearing down on him.

This was the visual and psychological oppression brought about by the uniformity of five thousand people.

"Terrifying."

"Everything about the Unsullied serves obedience."

Viserys thought silently.

Including the removal of their male characteristics, making them focus on combat, without any other desires. Erasing their personalities, emotions, self, and even humanity.

After the Unsullied received their spiked helmets, they had to wear masks to the slave market, buy a newborn, and kill the baby in front of its mother, then compensate the baby's slave owner for his loss.

Viserys' guards finished all their words, and the Unsullied below remained motionless, without any response.

Viserys' guard looked a bit awkward, turning his head to look at his king.

"Your Grace."

"This..."

Chapter 304: Grey Worm

"No matter."

However, Viserys shook his head.

He then took the reins in one hand, nudged the horse's belly with his legs, and urged the warhorse forward.

Clatter—

The sound of the horse's hooves and the bright silver armor echoed as Viserys, alone, rode his warhorse to the front of the Unsullied formation. The biting cold wind stirred his silver-gold hair and cloak.

The young man squinted slightly at the neatly arranged Unsullied soldiers in front of him, while simultaneously calling to his black dragon, Balerion, in his heart.

"Roar—"

Suddenly, a huge dragon roar came from behind the Unsullied army, echoing across the entire sky.

A massive dragon, large enough to blot out the sun, flew in from a distance. The faces of the Unsullied soldiers, who had just been resolute and meticulous, changed instantly.

"This is..."

Although the Unsullied had undergone brutal training and could remain calm in the face of any dangerous situation, this was their first time seeing a dragon, and this dragon was incredibly large.

The shadow of the black dragon covered the ground, its wings stirring up a huge wind. The monstrous dragon head let out a low roar, its pair of crimson eyes locked onto the tiny figures below.

The Unsullied army below also experienced a moment of slight chaos, but no one fled. The chaos only lasted a few seconds.

The next moment.

The Unsullied officers, with two or three spikes on their helmets, began to shout loudly.

In the middle stood a stern and resolute Unsullied senior officer with three long spikes on his helmet, standing still.

His brows were furrowed tightly, looking up at the dragon overhead without fear.

Unlike other senior Unsullied officers with three spikes, the middle spike on his helmet was like a young feather, reaching straight up into the sky.

Then, this Unsullied officer in the center with the long spikes on his helmet suddenly shouted.

"All of you!"

"Form up!"

"Protect the master!"

His command was like a ray of light in the darkness.

At least it let the other Unsullied soldiers and officers know what they should do now in the face of this creature they had never seen before.

"Form up!"

"Form up!"

"Quick, quick, quick!"

All the Unsullied officers wearing two or three spiked helmets began to shout according to his command.

Commanding their soldiers to form a formation to face this enemy descending from the sky.

Whoosh—

The Unsullied, who had been immovable just a moment ago, turned into a surging tide, surrounding Viserys on his warhorse.

"Quickly!"

All the Unsullied soldiers were running, able to quickly find their positions in the formation.

They were well-trained, showing no confusion or fear in this situation.

Outside the formation.

The Ragged Prince, Master of Finance Illyrio, Master of Justice Jon Connington, the commander of the First Legion Bessie Joyce, the commander of the Fourth Legion Missandei, and many citizens of Pentos, all were watching from the outside.

"Your Grace!"

Viserys' guards, seeing their king surrounded by the Unsullied, became anxious.

They gripped their sword hilts, ready to rush over to rescue Viserys.

But Bessie, wearing an iron mask, raised her hand slightly to stop them.

"His Grace is fine."

She knew that this was Viserys intentionally testing the strength of the Unsullied.

At the same time, it was also a show of force to these Unsullied soldiers who had just arrived in Pentos from afar

.

It was to tell them what kind of person their 'master' is, and what kind of power he possesses.

Now, Bessie, draped in a white cloak, had bright eyes beneath her mask. The strength of the Unsullied amazed her. She had seen Unsullied guards in Pentos.

Due to their high price, the Unsullied often became the guards of some kings, good masters, or Magisters, and rarely formed such a large army.

In fact, the greatest power of the Unsullied was on the battlefield. Single combat was not their strong suit. The more Unsullied soldiers there were, the stronger the formation they could form, and the full strength of the Unsullied could be brought to bear.

In the center of the formation.

Viserys' feelings were even stronger than those of the spectators outside. The phrase 'absolute obedience' perfectly encapsulated his impression of the Unsullied army.

He was now surrounded by the soldiers of the army.

"Raise shields—"

Then, that Unsullied officer with the three-spiked helmet shouted again.

"Raise shields!"

"Raise shields!"

The next second, commands were quickly passed down, and all the Unsullied raised their shields like a wave.

At the same time, they all let out a deep and powerful chant.

"Ha!"

Boom—

Countless shields instantly formed an unbreakable shield wall.

"Raise spears—"

"Ha!"

Whoosh—

All the spears were placed in the gaps of the shield wall, and the unbreakable shield wall instantly turned into a hedgehog bristling with thorns.

"This man"

Viserys also looked at the man who had been giving orders from within the Unsullied formation, who seemed unremarkable. The orders of the Unsullied had always come from his mouth.

But like other Unsullied, he had no decorations on him and didn't look much different.

Just a fitted waistcoat, a short sword, three long spears, a shield, and a spiked helmet were all he had.

But he had the most spikes on his helmet, and the longest spikes. This was his difference from other Unsullied. It seemed that he should be the leader of these Unsullied.

From the moment he opened his mouth, Viserys had noticed him.

"Could he be Grey Worm?"

Viserys stared at him, thinking to himself. It was possible, but it might not be him.

The man only gave him a side view.

Boom—

Then Balerion landed heavily from the sky, stirring up dust.

It landed right in front of the Unsullied formation, raised its neck, and let out a deafening roar.

"Roar—"

A strong, foul-smelling wind blew in their faces.

But all the Unsullied soldiers, facing the dragon up close, did not retreat a step, only gripping their spears a little tighter.

"Enough."

At this time, Viserys finally spoke. He waved his hand to interrupt Balerion's continued roaring.

The black dragon, roaring majestically, was interrupted by Viserys and choked for a moment. Then it snorted out white mist from its large nostrils, looking somewhat dissatisfied.

Viserys' gaze fell on the Unsullied soldier who had been giving orders, and he spoke.

"Come here."

"What is your name?"

Chapter 305: Black Worm

To Viserys' disappointment, the Unsullied officer did not bear the name Grey Worm.

"Your Grace, my name is Black Worm."

The Unsullied officer with the three long spikes on his helmet, who had been singled out by Viserys, hesitated slightly before kneeling on one knee and speaking without hesitation.

"Black Worm?"

Viserys was slightly disappointed. He then raised his head and asked the Unsullied army in front of him.

"Who is called Grey Worm?"

As Viserys' words fell, dozens of soldiers from the neatly arranged Unsullied formation stepped forward without hesitation.

"Your Grace, we are called Grey Worm."

These dozens of Unsullied soldiers who had stepped out from the formation spoke in unison.

Unsullied soldiers do not have their own names. They determine their names for the day by randomly drawing tags from a bucket. Each tag has two words written on it, one representing a color and one representing a worm, so the phenomenon of duplicate names within the Unsullied is very serious.

Viserys, sitting on his horse, looked at these 'Grey Worms' who had stepped out of the formation. Most of them had a single spike on their helmets, and only one had two spikes. It was clear that none of them was the 'Grey Worm' who was later unanimously elected as the leader by all the Unsullied.

"Never mind."

The silver-haired young man then sighed.

He waved his hand, ordering the abolition of the Unsullied's daily name-changing rule, allowing them to revert to their original names before they were castrated.

The 'Black Worm', who could command all the Unsullied, undoubtedly became the leader of the Unsullied army. He was proficient in the tactics of the Unsullied and knew how to bring out greater power.

However, after some thought, Black Worm did not revert to his name before he was castrated.

Perhaps too much time had passed and he could no longer remember it, he decided to keep the name he had been given that day.

He would be called Black Worm.

"Your Grace."

Black Worm once again knelt on one knee to express his gratitude to Viserys, as he had restored the original names of all the Unsullied.

Viserys didn't say much, only smiling and patting Black Worm on the shoulder, then once again mounted his horse.

"Ohhhh!"

The citizens of Pentos who were watching outside immediately cheered.

In their view, the power of House Targaryen was on the rise. With another Unsullied army joining, Pentos became even more stable and powerful, promising a bright future.

Those who wanted to cause trouble in Pentos, however, became more worried.

The strength of Pentos was also reflected in their eyes, making it increasingly difficult to stir up trouble here. If they were not careful, they might even lose their heads.

In the morning, Viserys inspected the Unsullied troops, and in the afternoon, he was still thinking about the black mist.

Some days ago, Viserys had injected the black mist into Bessie's body, and had been observing the changes brought about by the black mist ever since.

The experiment proved that Viserys' guess was not wrong. Bessie could indeed absorb more black mist for Viserys by killing.

Bessie executed many death row inmates in the prison.

And with the help of the black mist, her body recovered quickly. She can now fight normally, although her appearance is still a bit terrible, and she has not removed the metal mask from her face.

This is an exciting piece of good news.

Viserys can use the black
mist to help Bessie's body recover, which means he can also use it for many other things, such as enhancing the strength of some soldiers or saving the lives of those on the brink of death.

At the same time, facing an increasingly massive demand for black mist, Viserys needs help to further 'level up'. Otherwise, even if he exhausts himself, he won't be able to collect much on his own.

He had been worrying about this problem before, but now it seems to have been solved.

However, Viserys still remains cautious about the black mist.

Although he hopes his power can steadily increase, he values his life more.

After all, no one can say for sure what this thing is. If one day it turns against its master... he's not sure he can withstand it.

The main thing is that Viserys' current power is already sufficient. With the ability to transform into black mist, almost no one in this world can kill him.

So, increasing his superhuman power and standing between gods and men doesn't really serve any other purpose.

Of course.

Not long ago, Melisandre's warning to him was also on his mind.

He knows that he is not the only one in this world who has mastered this kind of magic or superhuman power.

Many, many people have such abilities.

They are not kings or Magisters, they may just be an inconspicuous little person by his side.

And the curse he holds, which may have been just a trick before the return of the magic tide, has become a terrifying means that can kill kings and Magisters after the return of the magic tide.

Viserys is also on guard, in case one day a shadow that looks like Robert suddenly walks into his room and stabs him to death.

However.

With Viserys' own methods, he could actually sneak into the Red Keep alone, turn into a wisp of black mist, kill Robert, and then sneak out.

He could become an assassin more terrifying than the Faceless Men, even the strongest in the world, but he disdains to use such methods.

Oh, he forgot that Robert hasn't returned to the Red Keep for a year now.

But he heard about the recent incident in King's Landing.

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King who stayed in King's Landing, led the Gold Cloaks to surround the Red Keep and ordered the Grand Maester to examine the queen's body to confirm that she was not pregnant.

Although nothing was found in the end...

Viserys still shook his head regretfully, feeling injustice for the unborn Tommen the Great.

It was clearly his mother's negligence that implicated the poor child and prevented him from being born.

Compared to the eventful Westeros, life in Pentos was relatively calm.

Viserys had long had the ability to attack the Seven Kingdoms, but he had not yet launched an attack.

Firstly, because Viserys wanted to be absolutely sure, he would only strike after preparing more warships.

Secondly, because Robert is currently fighting the White Walkers, he is unwilling to help, but also unwilling to take advantage of the situation, as he might bear the curse of all mankind.

After all, this is a contest between the living and the dead.

Honor is something you can't see or touch, but sometimes it's very useful.

However, Viserys' peaceful days did not last long.

Two pieces of news came unexpectedly, which he had not anticipated.

Chapter 306: Two Pieces of News

The first piece of news came from the Great Grass Sea.

Over eighty thousand Dothraki had trampled the banks of the Lhazareen River. They had come to attack Pentos in a grand display of force, only to retreat in disgrace.

Among them, Khal Moro and Khal Jhaqo had fallen in battle, their khalasars bending the knee to the Dragon Khal.

The remaining three khals, leading the surviving forty thousand Dothraki screamers, turned their attention to Meereen, eventually returning to the Dothraki holy city of Vaes Dothrak with a significant portion of Meereen's wealth.

This should have been the end of the story, but an unexpected twist occurred that no one saw coming.

The three khals, who had once sworn oaths before the Mother of Mountains with the stars as their witnesses, seemed to have a dispute over the division of spoils. Subsequently, they began to fight in the holy city, where bloodshed was forbidden.

Although the holy city explicitly forbids carrying weapons, the Dothraki are not known for their adherence to rules.

Every day, many bodies are found in this vast city, some beaten to death, others stabbed.

Not to mention the oldest Khal, Mago, the other two younger khals, Pono and Jhaqo, were once lieutenants under Khal Drogo.

After Drogo was burned to death, they divided his wealth and khalasar, each becoming a khal.

Drogo's khalasar was indeed full of 'talent', and even now, they are still stars in their own right.

Jhaqo and Pono had conflicts when they were in the same khalasar. Now, after the failed attack on Pentos and the suspected conflict over the division of Meereen's inheritance, the situation escalated.

Both parties had their own schemes, and in the conflict, someone provoked first, escalating the situation.

The enraged people then pulled out their prepared daggers and began to fight in the large hall, woven from grass and as large as a castle.

Poor Khal Mago and his equally aged bloodriders were caught in the crossfire, stabbed to death on the throne.

His bloodriders wanted to avenge their khal, but they were also stabbed through the heart from behind by someone from either side, falling into pools of blood.

"Kill!"

The over forty thousand Dothraki warriors outside learned of the melee involving their khals.

Rumors were also constantly spreading, all saying that their own khal was dead, and they immediately began to make noise.

Then Vaes Dothrak fell into complete chaos, with cries of murder everywhere. Once the Dothraki had removed the 'sacred' veil of the holy city, what followed was endless madness.

They had tasted the sweetness of sacking Meereen, and once a person has released the demon in their heart, it is hard to stop.

The dosh khaleen, the widows of khals who managed the holy city, heard the news.

They came out to scold and try to stop the rioting of their tribesmen, but they were stabbed to death by the Dothraki who had already seen red.

Some even met a more tragic end. Among these widowed dosh khaleen, although many were old, there were still young and beautiful ones.

Vaes Dothrak fell into chaos, the tribes of the three khals started a senseless fight, and it affected other tribes.

In the center of this chaos.

The place where the three khals were fighting, the cries of killing were deafening.

"Addrivat!"

With a
snap, someone in the chaos knocked over a brazier.

The flaming brazier was thrown onto the walls of straw and mud, and a large fire immediately ignited.

At this moment.

All the khals, bloodriders, and their tribesmen trapped inside only then discovered that the large doors of the grass hall had been locked from the outside at some point.

"Open the door!"

One of Jhaqo's bloodriders stepped forward to kick the door.

Bang!

But the door seemed to be blocked by heavy objects from the outside, it didn't budge an inch when kicked, and everyone inside the hall began to panic.

Anyone who wasn't a fool would realize at this point that there were many suspicious points in the whole incident.

From the beginning of the conflict to the complete loss of control, everything seemed to be proceeding step by step in an orderly manner, until the fire started.

However, at this moment, no one could really calm down.

Jhaqo's eyes were spinning fast, desperately thinking of a solution. Pono, brave but lacking in strategy, led his bloodriders and tribesmen trying to break the door and escape, while the white-haired Mago had already fallen into a pool of blood.

Then.

A figure slowly walked out of the raging fire. His footsteps were heavy, and his figure was distorted by the surrounding flames.

All the trapped Dothraki inside the hall saw him, and they felt their breaths hitch.

The cunning Jhaqo and the fearless Pono saw the newcomer and their eyes widened in shock.

"You..."

The two powerful khals looked as if they had seen a living ghost, their faces showing expressions of shock.

Then they swallowed, stepped back a few steps, their knees weakened, and they involuntarily knelt on the ground.

Pono knelt on the ground, gripping the hilt of his knife. He wanted to rush over and kill the other party with a single stroke, but in the end, he didn't have the courage.

The riot in Vaes Dothrak lasted all night.

Like every change of khal, a fight would break out. After a night, all the Dothraki involved were exhausted and finally stopped fighting.

Then they received a message. Except for Mago's old warriors, everyone looked at each other, not knowing what had happened.

Mago was killed in the melee, while Jhaqo and Pono suddenly kneeled to a mysterious khal named 'Death' who came from nowhere.

"Mengo Khal?"

Viserys frowned slightly, he seemed to have heard this name.

He was the first khal to unify the Dothraki, and his name meant 'Death'.

But this Mengo Khal was definitely not the Mengo Khal of the past.

Viserys was also a little curious about this person, wondering how he managed to make Pono and Jhaqo kneel without a single soldier.

Knowing that the Dothraki are hot-tempered, they would draw their swords at the slightest disagreement, let alone kneel in surrender.

The second piece of news came from Tyrosh.

This is a port city from the northwest coast of Slaver's Bay, adjacent to the Sea of Sighs, the Smoking Sea, and the ruins of Valyria.

Recently, the area of the Smoking Sea seems to be expanding rapidly, swallowing many ships passing through.

Grey fog is constantly spreading, and all the unlucky ships that are engulfed never come out again. Some even claim to have seen the figure of a sea monster in the fog and so on.

Originally, Viserys thought this was just a rumor and didn't pay much attention.

However, recently, the relic of Gillian that was placed in his room

, a faceless statue, suddenly changed its position.

Viserys remembered its head facing to the left, but now it was facing to the right, directly towards the head of the bed in Viserys' bedroom.

At the same time, some grey fog was also emanating from around the statue.

Chapter 307: The Grey Fog Rises

Andalos.

As evening fell, the sun set in the west.

The light in Viserys' bedroom within the castle was somewhat dim, and the corridor was unusually quiet.

He had returned to Andalos a few days ago to handle some matters, and came back to his room in the evening to look for a document.

However, he inadvertently noticed the inconspicuous statue on his bedroom table, which seemed a bit different from before.

"Hmm?"

The setting sun outside the window cast a long shadow of him, and Viserys voiced his confusion.

"What is this..."

He then picked up the small stone sculpture from the table, his fingers gently brushing off the dust on its surface.

Apart from this sculpture, there were also an old copper mirror and a rusty bronze candlestick on Viserys' table, all of which were left behind after he had dealt with Gillian.

After absorbing the black fog attached to their surfaces, Viserys didn't find anything else particularly special about them, so he didn't pay much attention and left them on his table in the castle of Andalos.

But recently, after spending a few days back in Andalos, he noticed their anomalies.

All these items, which Gillian had brought out from the ruins of Valyria, were now emanating a thin layer of grey fog.

Viserys took a light breath of it, and then started coughing uncontrollably. Clearly, this grey fog was not beneficial to the human body, and the Smoking Sea that enveloped the ruins of Valyria was filled with such dense fog.

Immediately, Viserys thought of the various rumors that Ramsay had recently collected from the market.

Sailors coming from Pentos were adamant that the area of the Smoking Sea was expanding, constantly swallowing passing ships.

His former employer was swallowed by the dense fog of the Smoking Sea and never came out again.

He also knew someone who could confirm his observations. The cities of Tyrosh and Elyria, both near the ruins of Valyria, were full of people discussing this matter.

The locals were terrified, claiming that the vengeful spirits of Valyria had resurrected and were seeking revenge.

At first, Viserys treated this matter as a joke.

Because according to his memory, he didn't remember such a thing happening. Although the progress of this world had advanced, there was no such thing as something coming from nothing.

"Is it really just a rumor?"

However, after thinking about it carefully, Viserys felt that this matter might not be unfounded.

Rumors about this had been circulating for a long time.

Viserys had heard such stories before, but it wasn't until now that more people started to pay attention and the rumors began to ferment.

The vengeful spirits of Valyria?

Viserys didn't know the true nature of the world-ending catastrophe, the wrath of the gods that happened back then.

But could a shattered continent and a destroyed civilization still stir up any trouble?

He felt that the sudden unrest in the ruins of Valyria should be related to his black fog.

After all, if something came from nothing, then his black fog should be his most distinguishing feature.

And this black fog had never appeared in his previous life's memory.

Of course.

Viserys was a thoughtful person, and he didn't rule out the possibility that there might be something wrong with his memory.

Some things could be remembered, some things could not.

Or perhaps he was Viserys, and an unknown entity had injected the trajectory of prophecy and a segment of false memories about his previous life into his body.

So he changed from Viserys to 'Vis
erys'. As far as he knew, the Old Gods and the Red God seemed to have such abilities.

However, the silver-haired young man didn't dwell too much on self-doubt, otherwise, he would have gone mad before he could unravel the answer.

After all, his arrival in this world had already changed the course of this world. The gods hadn't interfered, perhaps because they hadn't noticed yet.

The black fog was born with him, and it had always been luring Viserys to explore the ruins of Valyria.

"There must be answers there."

Viserys held a faceless statue of a unicorn goddess in his hand and couldn't help but murmur.

He then put the stone statue back on the table, found the large box where he used to store the dragon eggs, and put it along with the copper mirror, candlestick, and the broken jar that were found with it inside.

Clack—

He then closed the lid and added a few more locks to prevent them from causing any more trouble.

And Viserys didn't like anyone watching him while he slept, not even a statue.

After all these things were done, Viserys sat on the bed and pondered for a while.

Then he got up and paced back and forth in the room for a while, finally deciding to personally visit the ruins of Valyria as soon as he finished all the matters at hand.

"I can't delay any longer."

The ruins of Valyria had already shown terrifying unrest, and who knew what it would turn into if it continued.

The scattered grey fog swallowing the whole world?

Moreover, the crux of the problem was on him. Others could afford to be unhurried, but Viserys had to be vigilant.

Now his territory was thousands of miles away from the ruins of Valyria. It was not realistic to lead an army to conquer the ruins of Valyria. Viserys could only ride his dragon and go explore it himself.

Although the ruins of Valyria were fraught with danger, Viserys had Balerion to help him.

Plus, he himself was no longer an ordinary person, possessing several extraordinary methods. Even if he encountered any danger, he could turn it into safety. There was nothing to worry about.

"While Robert is battling the White Walkers."

Although he was still uncertain, once his thoughts became clearer, Viserys knew what he should do next.

Not long ago, the equipment that Viserys had asked Master Tobho to make was ready.

It would make Viserys more comfortable sitting on the back of the dragon, and it wouldn't make Balerion feel uncomfortable.

After all, apart from humans, no creature likes to have too many things put on its body. They prefer to run free.

And Master Tobho also talked to Viserys for a long time about Gendry.

He really wanted to teach this child his best skills, but he didn't expect that the child would be scared off by the blood sacrifice and ran off to become a guard.

Now Master Tobho didn't have to personally wield the hammer to forge. He had become an official of the kingdom's craftsman's creation.

This was a position newly established by Viserys. Although it didn't have the qualifications to attend the Privy Council yet.

But in the future, Viserys hoped to promote this process.

Now the Privy Council consists of the Hand of the King, the Commander of the Kingsguard, the Master of Finance, the Master of the Navy, the Master of Justice, the Grand Maester, and the King.

Chapter 308: A New Journey

Viserys listened patiently to Master Tobho's ramblings, shaking his head without saying much.

People have their own ambitions.

If Gendry didn't want to be a blacksmith, that was his own wish.

Viserys didn't want this poor child to come here either.

However, he ended up in Andalos by accident, and Viserys wouldn't persecute him because of his father.

He wouldn't stoop so low.

So, let Gendry grow freely as an 'ignorant' person.

Speaking of the Hand of the King, after returning to Andalos, the Hand who had been left to oversee the situation, Lord Joffrey, took the initiative to find Viserys.

The old man asked to resign from his current position as Hand of the King and devote himself to the construction of the Dragonstone navy.

Lord Joffrey's reason for resigning as Hand was simple. Although Viserys trusted him very much and even regarded him as a 'foster father', giving him such a high position, the old man felt somewhat powerless.

He wanted to do everything well, so he held the power of the country when Viserys was young and gradually relinquished power as Viserys grew up.

But Joffrey's governing ability was indeed not good. He had been a wanderer since he was sixteen, when he was forced to flee his family after killing an heir of a rival family. He had been a mercenary and a sailor.

If you asked him to kill, he could do it without hesitation. He had commanded naval battles for many years as the commander of the Dragonstone fleet, but he made a mess of things when he was asked to serve as Hand of the King.

This had been the case since Viserys was young, and many things had been messed up by the old man.

Even after so many years, Joffrey was still a novice in handling government affairs, with no significant progress.

In addition, he was getting older and his energy was gradually unable to keep up with the pace of young people.

He had a good strategic vision and knew that the kingdom's next target must be to attack Westeros and retake the Iron Throne.

He hoped even more that he could shine on the battlefield, burning his remaining light, so the old count decided to give up the position of Hand of the King and return the power to Viserys.

Let him find a suitable candidate.

And he would focus all his energy on training new naval forces.

After all, the new warships were gradually in place. With the strong shipbuilding industry of Pentos to assist, the scale of the Dragonstone fleet now far exceeded its peak period.

And if the kingdom's next target is to attack Westeros, then the navy will inevitably undertake an extremely important task.

Lord Joffrey didn't want the troops he had trained to be a drag on the battlefield and lead to the failure of the war.

When Viserys just received the old count's resignation, he was a bit dazed.

The old man had been Hand of the King for so many years, and Viserys had gotten used to having such a housekeeper to fall back on, but he didn't expect him to resign suddenly.

But the old man's reasons were also very sufficient. He said he was not cut out to be Hand of the King, and he preferred to return to his original job and train the navy well for the kingdom.

Since Viserys understood his intentions, he didn't play the game of three requests and three refusals.

The people of this world value honor and are quite straightforward. If Viserys refused the old count's resignation, the other party might
think that Viserys really needed him as Hand of the King.

Then even if he felt uncomfortable in his heart, he would have to stick it out in this position.

Viserys accepted the old count's resignation, allowing him to become the kingdom's Master of the Navy and the commander of the Dragonstone fleet.

The badge of Hand of the King was not taken back, but was left to the old count as a memento.

And with the position of Hand of the King now vacant, someone of matching status and ability needed to fill it.

Who to choose?

The white-haired old man suggested a candidate for his successor.

But actually, without Joffrey suggesting it, Viserys had already thought of him.

That would be Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne.

As Targaryen's most important ally, even without a second, Prince Doran has always been a strong supporter of Viserys. Oberyn has stayed on the continent of Essos for many years and hasn't even returned home, naturally contributing a lot.

Moreover, Oberyn once obtained six maester's chains in the Citadel. If he had focused on the path of a maester, he might have become the youngest doctor in the Citadel.

When he left the Citadel, his mentor was very regretful.

These are enough to show that Oberyn's mind is very flexible and his knowledge is very profound.

As Joffrey's successor, with his status, position, merit, and intellect, the best candidate for Hand of the King is Oberyn.

Since the candidate was decided.

A few days later, after the dragon's gear was installed, Viserys set off for the Wild Mountain Camp.

However, Viserys didn't take a turn to fly there this time.

The location of Oberyn's Second Legion was very close to Andalos, and it would take less than half a day to get there by horse.

Viserys only brought a few guards and rode a fast horse to the Wild Mountain Camp.

This place is located in a narrow path between two mountain ranges. From the map, it seems to be a narrow path, but in reality, it is a wide plain.

This is an ancient Valyrian road, which can directly lead to the Bay of Lorath along the Lorath River. From there, you can take a boat out to sea directly to Lorath, which is the main trade route between Lorath and Andalos.

And if you continue along this ancient road, you can reach the Battleaxe Horn at the farthest, and if you turn into the mountain road halfway, you can reach Norvos.

Therefore, the geographical location here is extremely important. Almost blocking this pass, no large army can attack Andalos from here, which is like protecting the face of Andalos.

Since approving the construction of this camp, Viserys has visited it once in person, and the specific site selection was left to Oberyn.

This semi-permanent camp is almost equivalent to a castle and can be stationed for a long time.

Viserys's sudden visit made Oberyn a bit surprised.

Then Viserys explained his intentions, and Oberyn hesitated for a moment.

Then, surprisingly, Oberyn politely refused. He didn't want to be any Hand of the King.

"Your Majesty, I am not suitable to be Hand of the King."

The Hand of the King is the left and right arm of the king, and also the face of the country. Oberyn believes that he is not suitable for such an important position.

But he also heard Viserys's thoughts. The silver-haired young man decided to travel for a while.

Oberyn also agreed that during the time Viserys was away, he would temporarily take
on the duties of the Hand of the King.

He would personally go to Pentos to assist his niece, Princess Rhaenys, in managing the affairs of the state.

And he would leave the legion here to Sir Ebben.

Then Viserys and Oberyn returned to Andalos, rode the dragon, and flew to Pentos.

That night.

Viserys convened the Small Council in Pentos City and explained the whole matter. He said he would be away for a while, but he didn't specify where he was going.

And during this time, Princess Rhaenys would act as regent, and her uncle Oberyn would temporarily take on the duties of the Hand of the King, assisting the princess in her regency.

Then, a few days later.

Viserys rode the dragon and disappeared into the sea of clouds.

Chapter 309: Mia

Volantis is a coastal city in the southern part of the continent of Essos, the southeasternmost of many free trade city-states. It is located in the delta region of the four estuaries of the Rhoyne River. As the earliest colony established by the Valyrian Freehold, Volantis has a long history and is powerful. Hence, it is known by titles such as 'Valyria's First Daughter,' 'Queen of the Rhoyne,' 'Mistress of the Summer Sea,' and so on.

From a bird's-eye view, it is situated next to a massive bay, to its north is the tributary of the Rhoyne River, the Volaena. The surrounding towns, including Selhorys, Valysar, and Volon Therys, all fall under the jurisdiction of Volantis. There is also a road that leads directly from Volantis to Meereen in Slaver's Bay. However, the harsh environment and dangers along the way have earned this stretch of road the title 'Demon Road.'

"Volantis is vast, as I've told you," said a red-haired girl sitting across from Viserys, gently wiping the dagger in her hand. "Eamon."

Eamon was a pseudonym Viserys came up with on the spot. It was simple and easy to remember. When asked for a name, he thought of this one and casually introduced himself as Eamon. Moreover, 'Dragon Knight' Prince Aemon is generally considered the most noble knight to date.

As the girl, who was wiping her dagger, spoke, she was also quietly observing Viserys's expression. Her face wasn't particularly beautiful, merely average, but she had a great figure and appeared very healthy and robust.

She sat across from Viserys, surrounded by a bustling crowd. The noise was chaotic, with people drinking and shouting, the floorboards creaking overhead, and the faint sounds of women moaning unabashedly.

This place was a tavern in Volantis, located on the Long Bridge, which spans the mouth of the Rhoyne River, connecting two districts of Volantis. The bridge is incredibly long, supported by massive piers, and as flat as a road, built by the Valyrians during their golden age.

The entrances at both ends of the Long Bridge are arches made of black stone, carved with sphinxes, manticore, dragons, and other monsters. The bridge is wide enough for two four-wheeled carriages to pass side by side.

Various buildings have been erected on both sides of the Long Bridge, where you can buy almost anything. Now, Viserys and this mercenary girl named Mia were dining on the second floor of a tavern on the Long Bridge.

The cost of living here isn't high, so it attracts a mix of people, including the poor, mercenaries, prostitutes, slaves, and sailors from afar. From where Viserys was sitting, he could see the hands of thieves and the heads of criminals impaled on spears for public display on the bridge below.

"You're right, Mia," Viserys said, looking at the freshly severed head below, still dripping blood before being skewered on a spear, amidst cheers from the crowd. He then turned his head and said with a hint of sarcasm, "And the people are quite fierce."

The man who had just been executed below wasn't a heinous criminal, but a runaway slave. His master executed him as a warning to other slaves. The guards of Volantis, the Tiger Cloaks with tiger stripes on their cheeks, seemed to turn a blind eye, allowing the slave owner to dispose of his 'property.'

"Slavery is part
of Volantene culture," Mia said, having also witnessed the scene below. She spoke without hesitation. "Since the time of the Valyrian Freehold, it has been so. Almost every free citizen owns an average of more than five slaves."

Of course, averages can be misleading. Impoverished free citizens who can barely afford food certainly can't afford slaves, while the major slave owners possess enough slaves to form a small mercenary company.

"Oh?" Viserys asked, "Mia, why do you want to explore the ruins of Valyria?"

Viserys didn't continue the previous topic. Instead, he picked up a piece of food from the table and looked up to ask. He had met this girl a few days ago when he first arrived in Volantis.

She was a member of a mercenary group, codenamed 'Hunter.' She was best at silently approaching her enemies and slitting their throats. The recent unrest in the Smoking Sea was the hottest topic in Volantis. Some claimed that the ruins of Valyria had become more dangerous, while others believed it was a golden opportunity to get rich.

The secrets and treasures buried in the Freehold would all emerge from the ground, and picking up just a few items could make one wealthy. Mia was one of those who saw this as a chance to get rich, so she joined an expedition heading to Valyria. During a public recruitment for the expedition, Viserys volunteered to join.

The silver-haired young man was handsome and skilled. He quickly defeated a mercenary called 'Butcher,' earning the favor of the expedition's organizer. So, Viserys joined the expedition under the pseudonym 'Eamon.'

Only after joining the expedition did Viserys learn of its massive scale and the high status of the 'boss' behind it. He was one of the three triarchs of Volantis, Malquo Maegyr of the Tiger party. He had organized nearly twenty ships of various sizes and an expedition of almost a thousand people, most of whom were slaves. There were also many mercenaries like Mia and Viserys who joined with dreams of their own.

"Of course, it's for the money," Mia replied to Viserys's question. "What other reason could there be?" She looked at him curiously. "What about you, Eamon?"

"Of course, I'm also in it for the money," Viserys replied, leaning back against the back of his chair.

"Really?" Mia looked at Viserys skeptically. "You don't seem like someone who lacks money."

Mia's gaze fell on Viserys's attire. Although his clothes were ordinary and unremarkable, for some reason, 'Eamon's' demeanor and the impression he gave her were like those of a person of high status, accustomed to a position of power. His every word and action carried a unique aura.

"You're overthinking it," Viserys said, shrugging slightly in response to Mia's questioning gaze. "I'm just not that poor. And I like adventures. I want to see what the ruins of Valyria really look like."

Chapter 310: The Expedition

The expedition was set to embark in half a month.

During this time, Viserys naturally had nothing to do, so he followed Mia around Volantis.

He observed the city once hailed as the 'City of Flowers and Fountains' in its current state.

The girl seemed to share some similarities with Rhaenys in style. Both were striking figures, but Mia was much older than Rhaenys, even two years older than Viserys.

Her fiery red hair was tied back in a ponytail, revealing her fair neck. She wore a clean, earth-toned linen dress.

Two daggers were strapped to her thigh, and Viserys knew that she also had a miniature rapier hidden in her sleeve. That was her real weapon.

She had killed more than a few people.

Viserys watched the girl's retreating figure, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Mia was a local of Volantis. As she had said, on average, every free citizen of Volantis owned more than five slaves.

Yet, she owned none.

Her parents had died a long time ago, but fortunately, she was a 'noble' free citizen of Volantis, not a lowly slave.

So, even if she was poor, as long as she didn't degrade herself, she wouldn't be forced to do disgusting jobs.

Mia became a mercenary through her own efforts. She had served in the Band of Cats and later joined other small mercenary groups.

She established her unique position within the mercenary group by killing a high-ranking member who had tried to take advantage of her, feeding his 'thing' to the dogs.

From then on, men dared not provoke her easily, and she no longer had to fight on the front lines.

However, for some reason, she suddenly took a great risk and joined the expedition to explore the ruins of Valyria.

For money?

Mia didn't think Viserys was a man in need of money. His posture, etiquette, and other aspects revealed that he had received a good noble education.

And Viserys also felt that Mia probably didn't join for that reason either.

The reason for money was just an unspoken excuse they both found.

The ultimate reason lay in the lost civilization shrouded in fog.

Then, several more days passed.

Viserys had been in Volantis for a long time. Balerion, unable to hide its form, had retreated to a deserted island in the sea, waiting to be called when needed.

The silver-haired young man had been freely wandering around the city during this time, openly visiting the once-prosperous city-state.

Although it was now in decline, it had a somewhat desolate feel.

The numerous wars during the Tiger party's rule had drained them, especially since they had lost. This directly led to the collapse of Volantis's economy and a sharp decrease in population, which has not fully recovered to this day.

Viserys had only undergone a simple disguise, making himself look less attractive.

Otherwise, with one of the most recognizable faces on the continent of Essos, he wouldn't dare to stroll around Volantis so openly.

However, his silver-gold hair, which was particularly noticeable in Pentos, was not so special here.

Volantis has a large population of silver-haired, purple-eyed people. These people are mostly descendants of the survivors who escaped the crisis of the Doom of Valyria.

They possess the noble and sacred bloodline of the Freehold, which even brought Viserys some unexpected conveniences in this city-state.

When Viserys wandered around Volantis, all the slaves, free citizens, and even the guards of Volantis showed him a look of awe.

And mercenaries from
other lands, upon seeing a person with silver hair and purple eyes, would keep their distance out of respect.

Such distinct Valyrian features often come from ancient family bloodlines, which hold great power in Volantis.

Only those whose ancestors can be traced back to Valyria can become ruling officials in Volantis.

"Give me a sword."

Viserys arrived at a blacksmith's shop.

In his hand, he held a coin engraved with a skull on the back, and he spoke to the dark-skinned, muscular shopkeeper.

He spoke in very orthodox Valyrian, albeit slightly different from the local dialect in Volantis.

The Valyrian language varies slightly across the Free Cities.

The blacksmith shopkeeper initially thought he was a foreigner, but upon seeing his silver hair, he lowered his tone.

"Please choose, honorable guest."

Many swords of different sizes and materials hung in the blacksmith's shop. There were long swords, short swords, and even hand-and-a-half swords and greatswords.

If there was no need for custom-made, these were enough to meet the needs of ordinary mercenaries.

Viserys wasn't that picky either. His own sword, Twilight, forged from a star's heart, naturally couldn't be brought here.

The sword's characteristics were too obvious. Almost anyone could recognize who he was with that sword.

When he joined the expedition and underwent the test, Viserys even defeated a mercenary codenamed 'Butcher' barehanded.

The Butcher was not brave at all, but rather clumsy in front of Viserys.

Viserys dodged his three slashes, then seized the opportunity to disarm him, placing the blade at his throat. He won the applause of the crowd, and Mia, who had recommended him, was also present.

The 'Butcher,' however, blushed with shame, feeling humiliated. His gaze towards Viserys held a hint of resentment.

But Viserys didn't care about the resentment a small mercenary might harbor for the sake of 'face.' Such people usually didn't even have the chance to lick the soles of his shoes on ordinary days.

Viserys hadn't deliberately humiliated him, just normally passed the test and defeated him. If Viserys had to consider these things, he would be too tired.

If he revealed his identity, the man would probably not only not resent him but would also beg His Majesty the King to forgive his rudeness.

"This one will do."

Whoosh—

Viserys picked up a sword, drew it to take a look. He didn't choose too carefully, just picked a long sword that seemed decent.

Then he wore it on his waist and paid for it.

Although he didn't bring his own sword, Viserys did bring a portable Valyrian steel dagger. If necessary, this dagger would play its role.

As for armor, Viserys wore a set of light leather armor. With the ability to turn into black mist, the role of armor was greatly reduced for him. It was better to improve some agility.

Then, a long time passed.

Finally, it was time for the expedition to assemble and prepare to set sail.

Chapter 311: The Triarch of Volantis

"It's good to see you again, Emon."

Within the port of Volantis, the air was thick with a potent mix of fishy, floral, fecal, and decaying smells.

The girl with the fiery red ponytail, Mia, still had two daggers strapped to her thigh. Seeing him, she walked over to greet Viserys.

The expedition was not compulsory, and many mercenaries who joined before signing a contract still had the right to back out.

After all, everyone knew that exploring the ruins of Valyria was extremely dangerous, a venture of life and death. If not driven to a dead end, no one would choose this path.

Unfortunately, there were many in this world who found themselves at such dead ends.

"I'm not sure if I'm happy to see you, Mia."

Viserys, clad in leather armor, heard Mia's voice, turned his head to look at the girl in front of him, shook his head, and spoke.

Mia was the first Volantene he met, and also the first friend Viserys made after he put aside his king's mantle and came to this world as an ordinary person.

In fact, compared to being a king high above, under the scrutiny of countless eyes, Viserys found these days of freedom in Volantis more in line with his inner desires, as he was an ordinary person in his previous life.

This was a dangerous thought.

Robert had thought the same, and then he died.

Being a king was like being a canary trapped in a cage, of course, one couldn't act recklessly. So, Viserys cherished this opportunity to go out alone.

However, for this reason, Viserys joked that he didn't want to see the girl because the trip to the ruins of Valyria was fraught with danger.

Mia, with her lively and straightforward personality, naturally understood that it wasn't that Viserys didn't want to see her, his friend, but that he was worried about her encountering danger.

"It's okay, I'm happy enough to see you."

The girl seemed optimistic, squinting her beautiful eyes, laughing as she spoke.

Mia might not be a pretty girl, but her eyes were beautiful, full of sunshine.

"I believe the gods will protect me."

"If they wanted me dead, I would have died many years ago."

Viserys, hearing Mia's words, relaxed his brow slightly, revealing a small smile.

This feeling of freely chatting was indeed good, rather than facing the same respectful faces every day. Mia's optimistic attitude also affected him, making his mood much lighter.

"Do you know our route this time?"

"No, we don't have the privilege to know such secrets."

Mia shook her head like a bobblehead.

"Only the big shots would know such secrets."

"I see."

Viserys thought for a moment and nodded in agreement, not asking further.

In his hand, he held a route map drawn by Gillian years ago. This route theoretically could pass through the layers of obstacles in the Smoking Sea and ultimately reach the lost civilization.

But after so many years, and with the current turmoil in the Grey Mist, what had happened and changed within the Smoking Sea, whether this map was still useful or not, Viserys didn't know.

However, he didn't expect to succeed in exploring the secrets in one go. The main plan was to follow the large force and let them explore the way. If this attempt failed, he could summon Balerion to help him escape and look for another opportunity.

As Viserys and Mia were chatting,

Woo—

The melodious horn sounded from the port of Volantis. Twenty warships of
various sizes were ready.

And on the coast, there stood thousands of explorers, half of whom were slaves.

The power of the Triarchs of Volantis was immense. The Tiger Party had lost its dominant position nearly three hundred years after the defeat in the Century of Blood.

The Elephant Party firmly controlled the Volantene government, maintaining more than two Triarch positions.

Viserys and Mia, standing amidst the vast crowd, were not very conspicuous. He saw the 'boss' who organized this operation, the only Triarch of the Tiger Party, Malacho Maegyr.

He was an old man who had lost all his teeth and had little hair left. However, riding on the back of an elephant, he was still fully armored, his eyes bright and spirited, living up to the name of a fierce tiger.

"He's an old tiger. It's best not to provoke him if it's not necessary."

"Emon."

Mia whispered in Viserys's ear.

Viserys claimed to be an adventurer from Tyrosh in the expedition team.

Tyrosh was not too far from Volantis, but not too close either, and Tyrosh also had a number of people with silver hair and purple eyes like Viserys, so it wasn't a strange thing.

Moreover, Tyrosh was close to Westeros, so some of the island's inhabitants spoke the Common Tongue of Westeros. Viserys could seamlessly switch between the two languages, so naturally, there was no suspicion.

Viserys nodded slightly when he heard the girl's words.

"Mm, I know."

Then he felt the stern gaze of Malacho's guards sweeping over them. Both of them immediately shut their mouths, not wanting to cause trouble for themselves.

The 'Aging Tiger' Malacho Maegyr, clad in armor, sat upright on the back of the elephant, speaking loudly, while Viserys below was somewhat disinterested.

He had heard this kind of morale-boosting speech countless times, and before, he had always played the role of the speaker.

He had thought that his impassioned speeches had inspired and uplifted his soldiers.

But now, mingling in the crowd, Viserys only heard the low laughter and discussions about whether this old guy could still 'get it up.'

"So this is what it feels like to listen from below."

Viserys hadn't listened to a speech in a long time, so much so that he had forgotten what it felt like. It seemed that he should reduce his speaking time in the future.

Just as Viserys was somewhat distracted,

The old Triarch Malacho finally finished his speech, then the old man rode away from the scene on his elephant, surrounded by his guards.

Of course, he wouldn't go himself.

Everyone knew that exploring the ruins of Valyria was a matter of life and death. Volantis had previously suffered several losses in this endeavor.

History has proven that the more people there are, the higher the chances of survival, but no one can guarantee that they will be the lucky one.

This expedition was just a counterattack by the Tiger Party, hoping to find some ancient technology, precious treasures, or even magic, dragon eggs, etc., left by Valyria in the ruins.

Chapter 312: Trials and Tribulations

Once, Daenerys' hatching of dragons had greatly shocked Volantis.

There was no shortage of pure Valyrian noble bloodlines here, so Volantis had been buying dragon eggs from all over the world, hoping to strike it rich.

However, dragon eggs were not as common as stones on the street and were not so easy to acquire.

Illyrio was once able to buy three ancient unhatched dragon eggs from distant Asshai because dragons had been extinct at that time, and no one had been able to hatch dragons for nearly a hundred years.

Therefore, dragon eggs gradually circulated and could be bought with money.

But now that dragon eggs could be hatched again, those who held dragon eggs wanted to try it themselves. Who knew, they might be the chosen ones.

Because of this, Volantis' journey to acquire dragon eggs was not so smooth, and many fearless fraudsters flocked to them.

They identified most of the fraudsters with poor counterfeiting skills and beheaded them, but some slipped through their fingers, and they ended up buying some beautiful stones.

Although the rulers of Volantis are elected annually, they can be re-elected indefinitely. The current old ruler of the Tiger Party, Malacho, has lost all his teeth and should have retired long ago.

However, there was a lack of capable young people in the party, so the Tiger Party spent a lot of money organizing this expedition in hopes of seizing the opportunity to find something to counter the Elephant Party.

In the end, it was still a party struggle.

...

Splash—

The huge warship, driven by the wind, broke through the roaring waves.

Viserys had just been listening to Mia talk about the party struggle in Volantis. Overall, Volantis was a system of two-party competition, which felt somewhat familiar.

Their goal was to conquer the world, with the Elephant Party hoping to do so through trade and the Tiger Party through force.

That was all.

The young man with silver-gold hair was now sitting on the deck, his hair tied into a braid, a long sword by his side, and a dagger tied around his waist. With his metal wrist guards and brown leather armor, he looked quite dashing, like a lone ranger.

Viserys had recently made an impressive move, dealing with his opponent cleanly and efficiently. A wealthy merchant took a liking to him and wanted to hire him as a bodyguard.

Several small mercenary groups also extended an olive branch to Viserys, but he did not accept.

At this moment, he sat on the deck with a jug in his hand, tilting his head back to drink the boiled water inside.

Then he looked up at the gray sky above.

"It's not a good day for sailing..."

Today's weather was somewhat gloomy, with howling winds and the sea becoming much more turbulent. Perhaps a storm would arrive soon.

"Indeed."

The girl with fiery red hair also seemed somewhat worried. She wasn't an excellent sailor, but it was clear that this terrible weather was not suitable for a long voyage.

Some sailors suggested to the commander of this expedition, Malacho's major-domo, to return to the port, but he refused and insisted on moving forward.

The sailors had no choice but to obey his orders and continue sailing towards the Smoking Sea.

Soon after, a small storm indeed arrived.

The weather at sea can change rapidly. The gray sky turned dark in an instant, and the weak sunlight completely disappeared.

The furious wind was howling, the sea was roaring, and a heavy rain fell without warning. The large raindrops hit the faces of the adventurers and slaves on the deck.

"Quick!"

"Tighten the ropes!"

The first mate on the ship was shouting
instructions to the sailors to control the ship, while the slaves and adventurers on board were also busy helping.

Everyone knew that the sea was merciless. If the ship capsized here, no one would survive.

Even in calm waters, they wouldn't be able to swim back, let alone in the turbulent sea.

Pitter-patter—

The raindrops crazily hit the deck and everyone's faces, and the towering waves slapped against the hull of the warship. Some unlucky ones were swept away by the waves, screaming as they disappeared from the deck.

But at this moment, everyone was too busy to save them.

"Where's the bucket?"

"Hurry up!"

"Block that area with a plank!"

Viserys and Mia were also among those helping, their clothes completely soaked, looking somewhat disheveled.

But fortunately, the storm didn't last long.

After an unknown amount of time, when everyone was almost exhausted, the raging waves around them finally began to calm down.

The heavy rain turned into a drizzle, until it finally stopped completely.

The dark clouds overhead also disappeared at some point, and the red glow of the setting sun broke through the gloom of the sky, illuminating the entire quiet sea.

The sparkling sea reflected the red glow of the sunset, and seagulls flew overhead, emitting crisp cries.

"Phew~"

"It's finally over."

The girl with red hair, somewhat exhausted, lay down on the deck, her chest rising and falling slightly.

She didn't care about the water on the deck that hadn't been wiped dry, as her whole body was already soaked.

Viserys, looking somewhat disheveled, also sat down next to her, but he seemed to be doing better than the girl.

The young man with silver hair looked at the beautiful scenery in the distance, then fell silent, lifting his jug for another drink.

Viserys didn't have many friends on this ship, after all, he was a newcomer to Volantis and tried to keep a low profile.

Mia had been in Volantis for a long time and was a well-known figure in the mercenary circle, but she also didn't have many friends.

"Are you okay, Mia?"

A tall, bald man covered in tattoos came over, followed by a few of his brothers, and greeted Mia.

"I'm fine."

The girl with red hair sat up and shook her head.

Slap—

Then she raised her hand and high-fived the man.

The man also nodded, and glanced warily at Viserys sitting next to her, but didn't greet him, then turned and left.

Viserys didn't mind, lifting his jug for another drink, and watching the man's retreating figure.

"His name is 'Iron Fist' Gus."

"He's a somewhat famous mercenary in Volantis, the leader of the Iron Brigade."

Mia, who had sat up from the deck, gently brushed her fiery red hair and introduced him.

"You don't have a title yet, Emon. For a powerful mercenary, a title is more important than strength."

"But I think with your strength, if you follow me, you'll soon make a name for yourself in Volantis."

The girl's face still had water droplets that hadn't been wiped off, but her chest was thumping with sincerity.

Mia's dream was to establish her own mercenary group, and befriending Viserys, who was using the alias 'Emon', was part of that plan.

Then, the remaining days of the voyage passed without any accidents.

And on the last morning, the sailor with the spyglass finally saw the sky-covering gray fog.

"We've reached the Smoking Sea!"

Chapter 313: Entering the Smoking Sea

The sailor's shout was like a thunderclap in the quiet morning, instantly stirring the tranquil cabins and deck into a flurry of activity.

Thump, thump, thump...

Adventurers resting in the cabins all rushed out, while the sailors dozing on the deck were jolted awake, their spirits revived.

"What?"

"Have we reached the Smoking Sea?"

"Is this the 'Land of the Devil'?"

Many people on the ship flooded onto the deck, looking into the distance.

Although Volantis was close to this ancient and mysterious lost civilization, and they had all heard of it, almost everyone present was visiting the vast Smoking Sea for the first time. Normally, ships would steer clear of this area from a great distance.

This was a sea filled with smoke and lava.

Legend has it that before the Doom, the Smoking Sea was once a land connecting the continent of Essos.

However, the catastrophe of the 'Wrath of the Gods' shattered the Valyrian Peninsula, blasting the land into fragments. The sea water flooded into the sunken land, forming the present-day Smoking Sea.

The sea water here boils all year round, with erupting volcanoes and smoking reefs beneath the water. There are even legends of demonic mischief and sea monsters lurking.

Viserys and Mia naturally rushed out as well, but as a man and a woman, they did not reside in the same cabin. Viserys rested in a cabin with three other male adventurers, while Mia gathered with the few female adventurers.

Such an arrangement could reduce many unnecessary troubles in the monotonous and boring life at sea.

Just yesterday, a mercenary who couldn't control his lower half sneaked into the women's side. However, these female mercenaries were not pushovers. They caught him and threw him into the sea to feed the fish.

"So this is what the Smoking Sea looks like."

The ships maintained their formation and continued to sail forward. After a while, as the distance got closer, even without a spyglass, one could see clearly. Soon, an adventurer expressed his feelings.

Viserys, leaning against the ship's rail, also looked into the distance.

There was a place clearly distinct from the sky, where gray fog was constantly rolling, like a huge monster emitting heavy breaths, sending chills down one's spine.

One could even vaguely see shadows of lightning within the gray fog.

"The Smoking Sea is too vast, it might swallow us whole."

The red-haired girl standing next to Viserys, leaning against the railing, also couldn't help but express her feelings.

Her voice was somewhat low and suppressed, voicing the thoughts of all the mercenaries around.

This constantly rolling gray fog was like the gaping maw of a demon. The exploration team of twenty warships and thousands of people seemed mighty.

However, in front of this constantly rolling, sky-covering gray fog, they were as insignificant as an ant. The other side could effortlessly swallow them all.

"May the gods bless us, I hope we can return safely this time!"

Then someone started praying first, followed by various voices rising together.

"Great Lord of Light..."

"Lady of Tears, you..."

There were those praying to the Lord of Light, to Lys's Lady of Tears, and also to the Black Goat, and even to the Seven Gods.

However, among these, the followers of the Lord of Light were the majority.

The faith of R'hllor was extremely popular in Volantis, especially among the lower classes. Most of his followers were the poor or slaves, and even half of the Tiger Cloaks were followers of the Lord of Light.

But the red-haired girl was not among them, she did not believe in religion.

Having experienced hardship from a young age, she had prayed to the gods countless times, but never received a response.

From that time on, she understood that she had to rely on herself for everything, and that praying to the gods would never yield any response.

That's why she fought back at that time, cutting off that thing of the man who wronged her and feeding it to the dogs.

The twenty warships were still steadily approaching the abyss of gray fog, and the sunlight above everyone's heads was slowly being blocked, the light gradually dimming.

"We're getting closer."

The prayers of the people became more urgent.

And on the deck, there were those who regretted their decision at the last moment, not wanting to go to their deaths. They strongly requested the fleet to turn back to Volantis.

However, the Tiger Party, as the employer, was very generous when it came to spending money. They spared no expense in organizing such a large expedition. The mercenaries had taken the money, so naturally, they wouldn't be soft-hearted at this time.

The slave guards on the ship first warned a few adventurers who were causing trouble, and then for those who didn't heed the warning, they were grabbed and thrown directly off the ship.

Below the ship was the gradually boiling dark sea water. The mercenaries about to be thrown off the ship begged for mercy continuously, but to no avail. In the end, they were held by several guards and thrown down, emitting a shrill scream.

They were quickly submerged by the sea, disappearing without even a few struggles.

Everyone on the ship witnessed this scene, their faces changing slightly.

It was only then that some people finally understood that the generous reward offered for this expedition was not so easy to earn.

It was a price paid in advance for their lives.

Viserys, looking at the place where the man who was thrown into the sea disappeared, furrowed his brows. The ship was still moving forward, and the surroundings had become a hazy gray.

Viserys looked back, the light in his pale purple eyes fluctuating. He had good eyesight because he saw what seemed to be a head appearing there, looking blankly in the direction the ship was leaving.

"Was that the man just now?"

Viserys clenched his fist, but his heart suddenly heightened its vigilance.

No one noticed this small detail, except for him.

He had already sensed the dangerous aura of the Smoking Sea.

The man just now was like a ghost, showing a head on the surface of the sea.

A ghost lurking on the expedition's ship?

Or did he die when he fell, and then quickly transformed into a non-human creature?

Viserys's thoughts raced in his mind, imagining the man's appearance when he was thrown off the ship, but he couldn't find any flaws.

"The spirits of Valyria?"

Viserys suddenly thought of the legends he had heard before.

The people of Elyria and Tyrosh claimed that the spirits of Valyria were bound to this land, and they would take revenge on those who dared to trespass.

"Balerion."

The silver-haired young man suddenly felt a sense of unease in his heart, and then quietly called his black dragon in his mind.

"Heh—"

And in his consciousness, the black dragon quickly responded to Viserys's call.

It was now resting on an island not far from the Smoking Sea, waiting for Viserys to call it to fly in and rescue him at any time.

Having received Balerion's response, Viserys breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that the gray fog had not blocked their special sensing ability.

"You don't need to pray either, Emon."

At this moment, Mia's voice sounded in

Viserys's ear.

Chapter 314: The Killing Fog!

Viserys was lost in his thoughts, engrossed in the terrifying tales of ghosts and demons that filled his mind. However, Mia's sudden voice by his ear startled him.

The fiery-haired girl was taken aback by Viserys's sudden reaction, then burst into laughter.

"Hey, Emon, what were you thinking about that made you jump like that?" Mia asked. Her personality was straightforward and lively. She was well-known among the mercenaries in Volantis, but she didn't have many friends.

Emon was a calm and easy-going person, someone she could easily chat with. So, Mia would often seek him out for conversation, not bothering to spare his feelings. Viserys didn't mind, he just gave a helpless smile and shook his head.

"I only believe in myself," he said. He glanced around at the people who had been watching the small incident. They quickly averted their eyes when they met his gaze.

Conflicts among mercenaries were common, and it was best to mind one's own business and avoid eavesdropping on others to avoid trouble.

Once they officially entered the Smoking Sea, everyone was on edge, even casual chatter was put aside. Everyone was gripping their swords tightly, vigilantly watching their surroundings. The captain, who was at the highest point of the ship with a telescope, couldn't see anything unusual.

All he could see through the telescope was a hazy gray, even less clear than what he could see with his naked eye. So, he gave up on the telescope.

Under the command of the flagship, the horn sounded. All the ships moved closer to the flagship, compressing the formation to stay together as much as possible in this obstructed view.

Otherwise, if they continued to spread out, they could easily get lost. You might think it's impossible for such large ships to get lost on the open sea, but the complex conditions at sea are even more challenging than on land. Especially now, with the obstructed view, it's very possible for a ship to lose its way and disappear.

The ship Viserys was on was not the flagship, but a large warship just below it. The smaller ships were mostly filled with slaves who had little value.

Their combat skills were not high, and they were mainly there to be used as cannon fodder in certain situations, in other words, to be sent to their deaths.

The mercenaries who were hired at a high price for their combat abilities were on the larger ships, able to hold out a bit longer in case of danger.

The melancholic sound of the horn could stir up the blood in people's bodies, making them uncontrollably excited. But when it entered Viserys's ears, it gave him a tingling sensation.

He had been sailing on the silent sea, and the sudden sound of the horn worried him that it might disturb some unknown entities in the Smoking Sea. Like the sea monsters mentioned in all the legends about the ruins of Valyria.

Gerion Lannister's diary also mentioned the sea monsters hidden in the Smoking Sea. Would the sound of the horn wake them up?

But he couldn't blame them for being careless, because as they went deeper, everyone's vision was getting lower and lower. Even the ships that were very close were hard to see clearly, only a vague shadow of a large ship could be seen.

"Damn it."

Then, Viserys heard the captain curse and hurriedly walk past him, but he didn't know what had happened.

Viserys then turned his gaze back to the sea. It was clear that flag signals couldn't be used to communicate with the other warships, only the horn could.

At that moment, a coughing sound came from a
man next to Viserys. It was another mercenary named Dick who shared a room with him. He was rather thin and claimed to be from Tyrosh. Viserys, fearing to expose his own disguise as a Tyroshi, hadn't talked much with him.

But why was Dick suddenly coughing? Was he sick? Viserys frowned slightly. In this world, getting sick was a very dangerous thing. Due to the lack of medical advancement, many diseases that seemed simple in later eras could be fatal here.

Not only Viserys, but those close to Dick also instinctively moved away from him. However, at this moment, other people around them started coughing as well.

The fiery-haired girl next to him looked puzzled, while Viserys's face changed dramatically. He suddenly remembered that he had coughed a few times after inhaling the gray fog emitted by the statue of the Faceless God, but it didn't cause any harm, probably because the amount was small, so he didn't take it seriously at the time.

"Mia, cover your mouth and nose!" he said urgently. "Try to breathe in as little of the outside fog as possible!"

Mia was slightly stunned. She didn't know why Emon was saying this, but his gaze made her instinctively comply. "Alright!" she responded quickly, covering her mouth and nose with her sleeve.

The mercenaries near Viserys also heard his words. Although they didn't know what was happening, in this situation where they didn't understand what was going on, they had no choice but to trust others unconditionally. After all, covering their mouths and noses was not a big deal.

The expedition had unknowingly been sailing in the Smoking Sea for a long time, and the lack of danger had caused everyone's vigilance to slacken. But the sudden outbreak of coughing put everyone on alert.

"Everyone, cover your mouths and noses!" the first mate shouted from the captain's cabin on the top deck of the ship.

At this point, others also realized that it was probably due to inhaling the fog, but they didn't know what effect inhaling too much of this fog would have.

"Sea monster!"

Suddenly, a shout rang out like a thunderbolt among the chaotic crowd on the deck.

"There's a sea monster!"

"God, save me!"

"Ahh—"

Terrifying screams suddenly erupted, the fog continued to spread, and the deck was filled with the sounds of horrifying roars and clashing weapons.

Viserys watched as a mercenary with bloodshot eyes drove his long sword into the heart of his comrade.

"Quick!"

"Follow me!"

Viserys then grabbed Mia and, taking advantage of the others' distraction, fled directly into the cabin below the deck.

Chapter 315: Mutual Slaughter

The deck was crowded with people, and the situation was spiraling out of control.

"Kill!"

Shouts of battle echoed everywhere.

Clang, clang—

Viserys, wielding his longsword, stood back-to-back with the red-haired girl, blocking an attack from a crazed mercenary.

Immediately, his sword plunged directly into the man's heart.

"Die."

Thud—

This ordinary longsword was not as sharp as the Dusk, but it still easily pierced the man's heart.

Then, Viserys kicked the man's chest, pulling out his sword in the process.

The crazed mercenary tried to claw his way up, but the blood gushing from his chest drained all his strength, and he collapsed lifelessly.

On the other side, the red-haired girl's dagger was also dripping with fresh blood. She had just slit a sailor's throat.

"Huff~"

She took a deep breath.

Several mercenaries with bloodshot eyes were going mad around them, clearly targeting them.

They let out strange cries and chased after Viserys and Mia.

"Quick! Hide inside!"

Viserys quickly pulled Mia and jumped off the deck, hiding in the cabin. He then closed the wooden door and blocked it with heavy objects.

Bang, bang—

Immediately, there were furious roars and banging on the door from outside.

"Keep running!"

The silver-haired young man held his blood-stained longsword. He had just killed several people in a row, but his pale purple eyes remained calm, showing no signs of panic.

"Okay!"

Mia quickly nodded.

The two of them zigzagged their way to an empty room inside the cabin.

Bang—

They closed the door tightly, bolted it from the inside, and took a brief rest.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

The red-haired girl was panting slightly. She was clearly frightened by the situation.

She had thought they might face terrifying sea monsters or demons, but she never imagined that this would happen after entering the Smoking Sea.

Many people who had inhaled too much of the gray fog had fallen into a state of madness and delusion.

They began to attack those around them indiscriminately, shouting 'sea monster'.

"Where are the sea monsters?"

"These sea monsters are clearly them!"

The red-haired girl took another deep breath, swallowed, and felt a chill run down her spine.

Those who had turned red-eyed had suddenly started attacking their friends, shouting about killing sea monsters.

Did they see all sane humans as sea monsters?

Mia thought about the many pairs of bloodshot eyes that had been on her and Emon before they fled into the cabin.

However, they had managed to block the door with heavy objects after they hid in the cabin, and those crazed mercenaries and sailors probably wouldn't be able to break in for a while.

But.

Actually, not everyone on the deck had fallen into madness. There were still many who were sane.

Viserys and Mia reacted quickly, covering their mouths and noses in time to reduce the inhalation of the fog. Similarly, some people had strong physical constitutions, and the fog didn't affect them much.

It was like the arrival of a plague. Some people with poor physical conditions or bad luck got sick and died, while others seemed as if nothing had happened.

Viserys and Mia hid in the cabin, listening to the sounds of fighting on the deck above.

"Kill the sea monster!"

"Kill the sea monster!"

These shrill cries were filled with despair.

If they hadn't seen the scene just now, Viserys and Mia might have thought these cries were heroic. But now, they only felt a chill run down their spines.

Thud—

The sound
of a sword piercing flesh, followed by a heavy body falling onto the deck.

The battle above Viserys and Mia's heads was still ongoing.

However, the intense fight led to increased physical activity and lung capacity, causing those who were still sane to inhale more of the fog than their bodies could handle.

Bloodshot eyes gradually appeared among the clear ones, looking like pairs of crimson orbs from afar.

A mercenary who had been holding on just moments ago was surrounded by the bodies of the monsters he had killed.

However, he was gradually losing his strength, unconsciously starting to cough from inhaling too much fog, his mind slowly descending into chaos.

At this moment, the last thing he saw in his clear mind was a crazed sailor lunging at him.

Then, he saw a sea monster.

"Hansen! What are you doing!"

The sailor lunging at him raised his sword high, then suddenly froze mid-air.

His bloodshot eyes blinked, his head tilted slightly, and he asked in a stiff voice.

Then the sailor put down his sword, helping Hansen, who also had bloodshot eyes, up from the ground.

"Quick, kill the sea monster!"

"We're almost victorious!"

Hansen, however, was in a state of confusion, having forgotten what had just happened.

He didn't know why he was on the ground or what was happening around him.

"What are you talking about?"

But after his companion's 'reminder', Hansen stood up and looked around.

He then noticed that there were severed sea monster tentacles everywhere, some still writhing as people finished them off. Not far away, several struggling tentacles were under attack from his companions.

"These are sea monsters!"

Hansen shivered at the sight, quickly picking up his sword that had fallen to the ground.

It seemed that he had been knocked out by a sea monster, and his brain hadn't reacted yet, forgetting the events of a short while ago.

The situation was clear now. The ship was under attack from sea monsters, and many of his brothers had been killed or injured.

"Damn sea monsters!"

"Kill the sea monsters!"

Without thinking further, Hansen let out a shrill cry and charged towards the sea monster tentacles being attacked by his companions.

"This fog is not simple."

Meanwhile, in the cabin below the deck, Viserys and Mia were hiding in an empty room.

Viserys was still calm, analyzing the situation. His composure eased Mia's tension considerably.

"It has a strong hallucinogenic component, causing the sailors and mercenaries to fall into illusions and start killing each other."

"But why would they say they saw sea monsters?"

The red-haired girl sitting on the bed opposite him had calmed down considerably.

Although she was still a bit nervous, she took a deep breath and asked.

Chapter 316: Miraculous Recovery

"Perhaps they've fallen into some sort of delusion," Viserys said after a moment of silence.

"Everyone has heard the legends of sea monsters in the Smoking Sea."

In this world, the common image of sea monsters is often limited to giant octopuses or squids, creatures with tentacles.

For instance, the golden kraken of House Greyjoy.

Some people also imagine sea monsters as enormous whales, as these massive creatures are undeniably the rulers of the sea, even without being considered sea monsters.

However, these creatures are generally docile and their appearance is not terrifying, so the legends of sea monsters being whales are less common.

"The source of terror actually stems from the fear within people's hearts."

"Everyone has heard of the sea monsters in the Smoking Sea, and the presence of the fog stimulates their inner fears, making them believe they've encountered a sea monster attack, so..."

The silver-haired young man sat on the bed, his mind racing to unravel the mystery, but his words abruptly stopped there.

"So... what?"

"Emon."

Mia, having wiped the blood off her dagger, had calmed down considerably. She looked up and asked.

"Are you unable to explain why those affected only attack sane humans and not their 'kind'? If it's just a delusion, they should be killing everyone around them."

"People in madness shouldn't be able to clearly distinguish friend from foe."

Mia and Viserys had both observed that all those with bloodshot eyes and in a state of madness were attacking the sane humans.

Yet they did not attack each other. In fact, they could even cooperate perfectly, without any friendly fire, as if they were all clear-headed.

"That's right."

Viserys nodded in agreement with Mia's words, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He too was puzzled by this phenomenon and didn't understand why it was happening.

However, because of Gyllyan's diary, Viserys knew more than Mia.

He knew that there were indeed sea monsters in the Smoking Sea because Gyllyan had encountered them. The people on the ship had paid a great price to finally escape to the lost continent.

Viserys had once believed in Gyllyan's diary without a doubt, but now he suddenly had doubts about the authenticity of this diary.

He didn't doubt whether this diary was a forgery by Gyllyan, designed to lure him into exploring the Valyrian ruins.

Because even without Gyllyan's bait, he would have come here in the future. This place was key to unraveling the mystery of the black fog.

What he doubted was the content described in Gyllyan's letter.

Did sea monsters... really exist?

Gyllyan's diary mentioned that their fleet had been attacked by sea monsters, and all the crew members fought back, cutting off the sea monster's tentacles.

Although they suffered heavy losses, they managed to escape the sea monster's attack.

Viserys now had some doubts. What Gyllyan saw back then, was it really a 'sea monster'?

Or was it like what Viserys was experiencing now, all the product of people's delusions, leading to mutual slaughter, and in reality, there was no such thing as a sea monster?

"So, Emon, what should we do now?"

The room fell silent again, and after a while, the red-haired girl asked again.

She was out of ideas. They were in the middle of the sea, and the people on the ship were in a frenzy, killing each other. If they continued to wait here, they would eventually be found and killed by these people.

And if they jumped ship now,
not to mention being in the perilous Smoking Sea, even in the open sea, it would be a suicidal act.

Mia turned to Viserys for help, and Viserys was also contemplating whether to summon Balerion now.

Or... should he kill everyone here himself?

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the room they were in.

It seemed that the fighting above had completely ceased, and even voices could be heard. The captain seemed to be directing the sailors to recover, as if nothing had happened.

"Huh?"

"Who's in there?"

A mercenary outside Viserys and Mia's door seemed to hear movement inside and asked anxiously.

But the two inside were even more nervous, including Viserys. They looked at each other, unsure of the person outside.

A living person? A dead one? Or someone in a state between madness and logic?

However, it was clear that staying in the room and playing dead wouldn't work. The knocking on the door outside was getting more intense, and it seemed like they were calling for their companions.

Even if they had to kill him and escape, now was the best chance.

Otherwise, it would be even more troublesome when he called his companions.

Viserys and Mia looked at each other and understood.

Then the silver-haired young man stood up first, one hand on his sword hilt, and moved to the door.

Mia hid to one side, ready to stab the person outside in the throat with her dagger.

Click.

Then Viserys abruptly opened the door.

Clang—

Seeing the door suddenly open, the person outside seemed even more nervous than Viserys.

He drew his sword from his waist and stepped back a few steps, but when he saw the young man in front of him, he let out a sigh of relief and sheathed his sword.

"Emon, it's you."

The person was Dick, who shared a room with Viserys.

He was one of the first to start coughing, and now he was covered in blood, apparently having just been through a fierce battle.

"Oh, and Mia, you guys hid here?"

Dick also saw the girl hiding to one side and naturally greeted her.

Running away was all too normal for mercenaries. He just didn't seize the opportunity to escape, otherwise, he wouldn't have fought the sea monster until now.

But if everyone on this ship only thought about running away, then it was only a matter of time before they were all wiped out.

Dick shrugged slightly.

"The sea monster has been repelled by us, but we've lost quite a few brothers."

"You can come out now."

"The sea monster has been repelled?"

Viserys and Mia looked at each other again, both seeing deep confusion in each other's eyes.

"What's going on?"

Mia asked in a low voice next to Viserys's ear.

"What exactly is happening..."

Viserys also frowned slightly, looking up and down at Dick in front of him. He felt like he was deep in a fog, unable to find any logic.

Dick seemed perfectly normal now, his words and actions logical, without any aggression, and his eyes were not bloodshot.

But if what he saw was true...

Then... what was that just now?

Chapter 317: The Current Situation in Pentos

Viserys and Mia, following the mercenary Dick, returned to the deck.

The battle on the deck had ended, and signs of destruction were everywhere. Many people, like Viserys, who had just hidden, were coming out one after another.

The bodies left from the recent battle on the deck had been thrown into the sea. Viserys and his group came out later and just happened to see the last body being thrown into the sea.

"Hey, wait a minute."

The red-haired girl standing next to Viserys was about to stop them, but it was too late. The body had already been lifted by two mercenaries and thrown into the sea.

Splash—

The body fell into the sea, causing a splash, and then disappeared without a trace.

"Huh? What's up?"

The two slaves who were working didn't know why Mia had stopped them and scratched their heads in confusion.

"Ah, it's nothing."

"You guys sure are quick."

The red-haired girl sighed slightly and complained.

She had just wanted to examine the wounds on these bodies to see if they had died from sword wounds or from the attack of the sea monster.

She was now even doubting whether there was something wrong with her brain, or whether she and Emon had unknowingly fallen under some spell.

However, the last body had already been thrown into the sea, and they had nowhere to find new evidence.

"A body?"

"What do you want with a body?"

"Nothing, we just wanted to see..."

Mia was talking to several mercenaries, inquiring about what had just happened.

Viserys, on the other hand, was calmly standing to the side, surveying his surroundings. His inner vigilance had never relaxed.

"The grey fog has dissipated quite a bit."

Viserys noticed this the moment he stepped out of the cabin, and his heart stirred slightly.

When the anomaly had suddenly arisen, the grey fog had been very dense.

You couldn't even see the figures on the opposite ship, let alone see clearly a little further away on their own ship. The visibility was extremely low, and the surroundings were shrouded in dense fog.

Now, the grey fog seemed to have dissipated a lot compared to before, and the visibility had significantly improved, returning to the state when they had just entered the Smoking Sea.

The grey fog had dispersed, and Viserys could even see the figures on another warship from the side of the ship.

However, it seemed that the people on the other side had also just gone through a big battle.

Their ship showed clear signs of damage, and then bodies were thrown overboard by the crew and mercenaries, falling into the sea and quickly disappearing.

At this time, not far from the silver-haired young man, a bald man covered in tattoos was leading a few of his subordinates, quietly looking at Viserys.

"Is that the one called 'Iron Fist'?"

Viserys also keenly noticed the other party's gaze, then turned his head to look at them.

It seemed that he was also someone who had just escaped from another hiding place.

The two men's gazes met and held for a moment.

Then 'Iron Fist' Gus led his team and strode over.

"Young lad, your name is Emon, right?"

The bald man reached out his hand first.

Viserys didn't mind the other party's address. His face did look a bit young, but his demeanor was more mature and calm.

The two men shook hands briefly, then Gus took the initiative to speak.

"You saw what happened just now, didn't you?"

Gus noticed that Viserys and Mia had come out of the cabin and knew that they were
also people who had not been affected just now.

In the current situation where everything is unknown, it's best to unite as many as possible, so he took the initiative to make contact.

Those who had been affected before, although they now seem very clear-headed and show no signs of madness,

But no one can guarantee that they won't go mad again. They can recognize their own people now, but who knows if they will be able to recognize them after some time.

Therefore, Gus does not trust these people. Now he can only contact those who have not been affected and secretly connect the survivors.

"We saw it."

Viserys didn't speak, but Mia next to him nodded and then asked.

"Do you have any special findings?"

"None."

Gus shook his head slightly. He didn't intentionally hide any important information.

But he's a simple man. The situation was urgent just now, and he was too busy running away to observe these people.

"How did they regain consciousness?"

Viserys was silent for a moment, then asked.

They had not seen the outside scene from inside the cabin, so they naturally didn't know. But since Gus had been outside all the time, he should have seen something.

"How did they regain consciousness?"

The bald man frowned when he heard Viserys's question, trying to recall what had happened not long ago, but he couldn't think of any important details.

"They seemed to... suddenly wake up, and the grey fog became much thinner at that time."

Gus tried hard to think about what had happened.

"Right, I think I really did see the shadow of a sea monster then."

He suddenly said.

He seemed to have seen a strange figure in the dense grey fog, but he also didn't get a clear look.

It's been half a month since Viserys left Pentos.

And Pentos is still as usual.

Viserys had once designated Daenerys as his heir in non-public occasions.

But his sister was too young, so Viserys would leave Rhaenys to supervise the country when he was out.

This division of labor actually leaves a hidden danger. Jon Connington once pointed out this problem, that disorder in seniority is most likely to breed disaster.

Rhaenys has been supervising the country for many years and her political experience and means are far more mature than Daenerys's, but she is not the heir.

Both of them received the same education. Viserys gave both girls the education of a family heir, so he is well aware of this problem.

But this problem is based on the condition that he has no descendants. If Viserys has a son in the future, all problems will be solved.

However.

The fact proves that Rhaenys is doing well, at least she hasn't made any mistakes.

With the help of her uncle Oberyn, the entire dynasty's vast territory and fifty to sixty thousand soldiers are safe and sound.

Viserys handed the command staff of the Unsullied to Rhaenys, and the Regent Princess also has two dragons to command. Oberyn brought two hundred guards with him.

Jon Connington, as the Master of Justice of the new dynasty, directly controls the 3,000 guards of Pentos, and his deputy is the former deputy commander of the Windblown, Denzo D'han.

The Golden Company, which has ten thousand soldiers, has no better place to go for now and can only temporarily station in Pentos.

They are also a huge force that cannot be ignored in this city-state.

Therefore, the various forces in Pentos are maintained in a delicate balance.

Although Oberyn is a high-ranking official, he cannot act recklessly, and the newly surrendered Golden

Company would not find it easy to rebel either.

Not far from Pentos, the First Legion of the Andals, who are most loyal to the Targaryen family, are watching closely.

To the southeast of Pentos, twenty thousand Dothraki have settled down.

Chapter 318: Conspiracy and Secret Talks

"I understand your predicament, and your anger, my lord."

In the dimly lit room.

A man's voice rang out, his tone elegant, clearly distinct from the accents of the commoners in the slums. He spoke in the most standard Valyrian.

"You've been betrayed, blatantly. It's the complete opposite of the deal you once made."

"After decades of roundabouts, you're back to square one."

The dim light of the room cast two shadows on the wall. The man with the elegant tone picked up a teapot and poured a bit of tea into his and his companion's cups.

Although his words sounded like mockery, ridiculing the man sitting across from him for wasting half his life, struggling in the mud, only to end up with the same fate as before.

Decades ago, he could have had the same treatment he has now with just a nod of his head, but he didn't do it then.

Was he really just afraid of death?

No.

"Many people say that you fled out of fear of death back then."

"But that's not the case."

"You're not afraid of death, you just wanted more."

The man raised his teacup and toasted the man across from him. He didn't like strong liquor, preferring this kind of light drink, because it kept his mind clear.

"You're right."

The man sitting across from him drank the tea in his cup as if it were a strong drink, then slammed it heavily on the table. His voice was hoarse and carried a hint of resentment.

"But I'm not satisfied."

He was not satisfied that he had paid such a high price, spent half his life, only to end up with such an outcome.

When he made the deal back then, he thought the other party was just a young man who hadn't grown up.

The other party dared to seize the city with only two hundred men. What kind of arrogance and courage was that?

Perhaps only such a young man, fearless of heaven and earth, would dare to do such a thing.

Back then, he even had the idea of double-crossing, but he didn't expect that the final result would shatter his plans step by step.

The other party forced him to take action against the traditional forces of Pentos, forced him to break with Pentos. From then on, it would be extremely difficult for him to gain a foothold here.

"Yes, you're not satisfied."

"And now is your best opportunity."

Hearing the resentment in the other man's tone, the man naturally understood that his words had hit the nail on the head, and continued to press his advantage.

"The Mad King's son has left Pentos, as you know."

"His whereabouts are unknown, but he took his black dragon with him, leaving..."

Whispers filled the room.

Outside the room, a man dressed as a servant was crouched under the window, quietly eavesdropping on the conversation inside.

His name was Hunter, one of the slaves bought by the Beggar Prince's steward three months ago.

But that was just his outward identity. His real identity was not a slave, but a 'hound' secretly trained by Lord Ramsay Snow.

Hounds have a keen sense of smell, making them ideal for surveillance work. His task, assigned by Ramsay, was to monitor the Beggar Prince.

And he didn't expect to overhear such important information today.

The Beggar Prince had secretly invited a man of unknown identity to the palace through the back door, and then closed the door for a private conversation.

And the content of the conversation was even more terrifying. It turns out that the Beggar Prince has long been dissatisfied with Viserys, believing that
he was deceived in the deal they made.

Although he did indeed get Pentos and became its prince, and Viserys did not break his word, this was not what the Beggar Prince had in mind.

He had no real power in his hands. He had a little at first, but as time went on, his power diminished more and more. Now, he was truly a commander without an army.

Even the men of the Windblown, who were once under his command, have all defected. Now, even if the Beggar Prince wanted to leave Pentos and gather a new force, he couldn't.

Therefore, persuaded by the mysterious man, the Beggar Prince seemed to want to seize the opportunity of the king's absence from Pentos to stage a coup.

"The Golden Company won't do?"

"They're just a bunch of mercenaries who value money over their lives. As long as you give them money, they'd even sell their own fathers."

"Jon Connington."

Although Jon Connington's power is somewhat pitiful now, with Oberyn looming over him.

But after all, he still has three thousand men under his command, naturally entering the Beggar Prince's vision.

"Jon Connington won't do, he's too upright and stubborn."

"My lord, the biggest problem for your coup is actually the Unsullied."

The existence of the Unsullied is like a huge obstacle. They have the Nine Towers Palace, where Regent Princess Rhaenys is staying, locked down tight. They have no chance to directly attack the Nine Towers Palace and end the war.

"The only chance now is to use other means."

"Find an opportunity to kidnap the girl when she leaves the palace, and force her to hand over the command staff of the Unsullied."

The Unsullied only recognize the staff, not the person. And Oberyn can't just sit by and watch his niece get killed, he'll have to surrender. By then...

While the room was buzzing with discussion, a noise suddenly came from outside.

Crack—

The voices in the room abruptly stopped.

"Damn it!"

Outside the room, Hunter, who had been eavesdropping, suddenly turned his head to look up.

The noise wasn't made by him.

As a professional intelligence agent trained by Lord Ramsay, how could he make such a rookie mistake?

It turned out to be a stray cat that had accidentally knocked over a loose brick while running by.

The cat seemed completely unaware of its mistake, just glanced at the man crouching in the bushes below.

Then it meowed and jumped off the wall to escape.

"Run!"

Hunter felt his scalp tingle and was about to flee, but was caught red-handed by the Beggar Prince and the man who had been talking with him, who rushed out of the room.

"It's you!"

The Beggar Prince was both shocked and angry when he saw Hunter.

He was shocked because if such a big thing leaked out, he would surely be doomed. He was angry because the other party had betrayed him.

"I'll kill you!"

The Beggar Prince immediately drew his sword and stabbed Hunter, his blood staining the ground.

"He's dead, that man named Ramsay will surely come to investigate."

The man who had been talking secretly with the Beggar Prince wore a pair of single-lens gold-rimmed glasses.

This was a high-end product made by Myr, its value could even hire a small mercenary group.

It seemed that this man was very wealthy, his attire was also extraordinary. He frowned slightly and said.

"It seems we need to take a long-term view of this matter, my lord."

Chapter 319: The Arrival of the White Walkers

In the distant city of Pentos, a long-accumulated dissatisfaction was on the brink of sparking a rebellion.

However, due to a leak of information, the Beggar Prince was uncertain about how much his enemies knew about his plans. Fearing that he might alert his enemies, he was forced to indefinitely postpone his plans.

After Hunter's death, the Beggar Prince used it as an excuse to flee Pentos. However, he didn't go too far, instead, he hid just outside the city.

He claimed to the public that he was tired of life in the palace and wanted to live in a manor outside the city for a while to clear his mind.

This cautious decision saved his life. Otherwise, Jon Connington would have almost sent soldiers to arrest him.

At that time, unless the Beggar Prince jumped into the sea, he wouldn't have been able to escape the pursuit of the Targaryen soldiers, no matter where he hid.

After his agent died, Ramsay, as expected, investigated the Prince's palace.

The chief steward of the Prince's palace was actually a man he had bribed.

However, the Beggar Prince was experienced and had done a thorough job of covering his tracks. Ramsay didn't find anything from his investigation, only learning that the Beggar Prince seemed to have invited a mysterious person to the palace for a secret talk.

Without concrete evidence, Ramsay could only investigate secretly due to the special status of the other party. He couldn't directly confront them.

Soon after Hunter's death, his body was cremated, and all his belongings in his room were cleared away, leaving no clues.

Ramsay couldn't even find the body, so he concluded that Hunter had been exposed and killed by the Beggar Prince.

But based on the most malicious guess, Hunter must have discovered some secret of the Beggar Prince before his death, otherwise, the other party wouldn't have killed him to silence him.

The Beggar Prince's hasty escape from Pentos further confirmed his suspicion.

Ramsay was almost certain that there was a problem with the Beggar Prince.

His escape to the outskirts of Pentos was due to fear of exposing something and needing to flee immediately, but Ramsay couldn't find any evidence.

He didn't have any law enforcement powers and couldn't directly act against the Beggar Prince, who was nominally a high-ranking official.

So, Ramsay went to his old superior, Jon Connington, hoping that the Master of Justice would dispatch the three thousand city guards of Pentos to arrest the Beggar Prince.

However, Jon was not an impulsive person. He was thoughtful and mature.

He listened to Ramsay's speculation and thought it was possible, but he also knew that although the Beggar Prince had no power, he was not easy to deal with, especially without evidence.

Jon promised Ramsay that if the Beggar Prince tried to flee far away, he would immediately send soldiers to arrest him.

But if the Beggar Prince just hid in a manor outside the city and didn't make any moves, then there was no way to act against him for the time being.

There was a bit of turbulence in the skies of Pentos after Viserys left, but it didn't cause too much trouble.

Meanwhile, at the distant Wall.

Robert had organized an alliance of the Seven Kingdoms. Except for the Iron Islands, which didn't send anyone, all the major nobles sent troops, gathering more than sixty thousand soldiers, ready to resist the invasion of the White Walkers.

The Wildling uprising had been quelled, at least it wasn't as rampant as a few months ago.

Robert had even heard recently that a
group of Wildlings had launched a suicidal attack on King's Landing, but unfortunately, their actions were suppressed without causing much of a stir.

"The Wildling uprising is but a minor ailment," said the rotund King Robert Baratheon, seated on the throne in Winterfell.

The master of the place, instead, sat to the side, playing a supporting role. But Eddard Stark, being a straightforward man, bore no grudges.

"Winter has come."

"The greatest threat, Your Grace, is still the White Walkers," Eddard Stark said gravely.

"Recent events..."

The collapse of the Wall, the influx of Wildlings into the Seven Kingdoms, and the knights of the Seven Kingdoms now having easier access to patrol beyond the Wall.

Not long ago, a patrol of knights from the Vale, while venturing deep into the Fist of the First Men, suddenly encountered an attack from the army of the dead.

The knights fought bravely, but they didn't expect these enemies to be unkillable.

Even if their heads were cut off, they could still stand up. The severed hands struggled on the ground, and it took a lot of effort to 'deal' with them.

The knights of the Vale, without any intelligence support, suffered heavy losses. Many knights were overwhelmed by the dead and devoured alive.

Many of the knights who broke out of the encirclement watched their comrades being eaten alive in the snowstorm, listening to their horrific screams.

Even after returning to the camp, they couldn't forget the horrifying scene, which left a deep psychological shadow on them. In simple terms, they were traumatized and needed time to recover from this unprecedented fear.

This was the first time since the Night's Watch that the allied forces of the Seven Kingdoms had truly encountered an attack from the dead.

This made those in the allied forces who were still skeptical about this matter completely dispel their doubts.

Because a knight's armor was hung with a severed hand of the dead.

At the time, the dead had grabbed onto his armor, and he cut it off with a sword. The hand was firmly stuck in the gap of his armor.

However, when he returned to the camp, the hand of the dead was still struggling. Many soldiers of the allied forces witnessed this scene.

Even King Robert, Stannis, Eddard Stark, and other nobles came to see this moving hand of the dead.

Swords couldn't kill these dead, but because of this hand of the dead, the observant Duke Stannis discovered that fire could completely burn them.

In fact, the Night's Watch had suggested long ago that fire could counter these dead, and that dead bodies must be burned. But their words were not widely accepted.

However, finding the weakness of the dead also boosted the morale of the allied soldiers who had been frightened by the dead.

It was okay if these monsters could be killed. If they were really like what the knights from the Vale said, that these monsters could still move freely even when cut in half.

Then they really wouldn't have the courage to resist.

However, the 'good mood' of the allied soldiers was only temporary.

Then another explosive news quickly spread in the camp of the allied forces.

That was, another patrol team from the Westerlands was suspected to have encountered an attack from the White Walkers, and almost the entire army was wiped out.

Only one person managed to escape in a panic, but he seemed to have been scared out of his wits, constantly repeating a phrase.

After the high-ranking officials of the allied forces, the king, the dukes, and others arrived, the soldier who had escaped finally said something.

As expected, they had encountered an attack from the army of the dead,
but this time, an unusual creature appeared among the dead.

He stood out among the army of the dead, and unlike the mindless dead, he was different.

He was tall, gaunt, his skin as white as milk, his eyes burning like ice, and he rode a skeletal horse.

When the knights of the Westerlands looked at him, he looked back at them.

"He was like the commander of the army of the dead!"

Chapter 320: The Age of Great Strife

"White Walkers!"

"These are the real White Walkers!"

Inside the Great Hall of Winterfell, the white-haired Maester Aemon's voice trembled as he spoke.

"Legend has it that the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch once married a woman whose skin was as pale as the moon, eyes like blue stars, and skin as cold as ice."

"After bringing her back to the Nightfort, the Lord Commander declared her his queen."

Maester Aemon had combed through the books left by the Night's Watch. Although the collapse of Castle Black had resulted in the loss of these precious texts, Aemon, like a living fossil, still retained much of the lost knowledge in his mind.

His words came from a book called "Watchers on the Wall," written by a maester named Harmune from the Citadel.

"Maester Aemon is correct."

"The same story is also told in the North."

Eddard Stark, the Duke with dark hair, sat on the side. Snowflakes were still falling outside the windows of the Great Hall, and the warmth from the roaring fire in the fireplace kept everyone from feeling too cold.

Eddard Stark had heard stories about the White Walkers from his wet nurse since he was a child. However, this story was more precise, even down to the names.

The thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was a Stark named Bran. He married a White Walker woman and led the Night's Watch to independence.

However, the end of the story was that he was defeated by his own brother, the true King in the North, and then disappeared without a trace.

"The White Walkers are the leaders of these dead."

"The dead we've encountered before may just be the vanguard of the White Walker army."

Eddard Stark's words were heavy, and the atmosphere in the Great Hall of Winterfell was somewhat oppressive.

White Walkers had only appeared twice in the long history, and it was his turn now. Eddard Stark felt a great pressure. He had to protect the people of the North, as it was the responsibility of the Stark family.

The other commanders in the Great Hall looked at each other, feeling more troubled.

Their families were far from the North, and they didn't feel as anxious as the North's guardians. However, they were also at a loss when facing such an unknown enemy.

"Maester Aemon, you are learned and knowledgeable."

"We now know that fire can burn the dead, but is fire effective against the real White Walkers?"

Stannis Baratheon, the Duke of Dragonstone, sat on a side seat, gently stroking his chin beard, and then abruptly asked.

He was the calmest of all the people present, because his fief was on Dragonstone. Just like this time the king summoned the Iron Islands, but they didn't even respond.

Although the Iron Islands always had this kind of attitude, they felt that the White Walkers and the Wildlings had nothing to do with the Iron Islands. The enemy wouldn't swim across the sea, and they even wished for chaos in the green lands.

"Fire is effective against the wights transformed by the White Walkers, but there is no literature to support whether it is effective against the real White Walkers."

Stannis asked Maester Aemon, and Aemon did not hesitate to share his knowledge, his voice trembling as he spoke.

After all, this is a war of all mankind. His initial choice to give up revenge and uphold his oath had already transcended the shackles of family blood, reaching the height of the fate of all mankind.

"However, in ancient texts, two possible weaknesses of the White Walk

Walkers are mentioned."

"One of them is obsidian, also known as 'dragonglass'. According to the records, dragonglass can kill White Walkers."

"The other method is 'Valyrian steel'. Weapons made of Valyrian steel contain powerful magic. The Valyrian steel weapons of the lords here may be able to kill White Walkers."

Maester Aemon sat in his place, his milky white blind eyes open as he spoke.

"Obsidian? Dragonglass? What are these?"

Robert, who had been sitting in the middle and had not spoken for a while, suddenly asked. He had never heard of these things before.

"Obsidian."

"This substance is forged in the heart of the earth with the fire of the gods."

"Thousands of years ago, the Children of the Forest used obsidian for hunting because they did not know how to smelt metal."

"They used leaves to weave clothes instead of armor, and bark as greaves, so they looked as if they were one with the forest. Their arrows and blades were made of obsidian."

At this time, Maester Luwin of Winterfell happened to walk into the Great Hall. Hearing King Robert's question, he instinctively answered.

"There are still a few obsidian daggers and arrowheads left in Winterfell."

Then the plump Maester Luwin turned to his lord, Eddard Stark.

"My lord."

"A letter from King's Landing."

Suddenly, all eyes in the Great Hall were on Maester Luwin.

Because ravens only fly fixed routes to find fixed targets, all communication with the south now depends on the ravens of Winterfell.

This letter could be written to anyone present.

Viserys's quiet disappearance was only circulated among the upper echelons of Pentos.

The common people did not know that their king had irresponsibly gone on a dragon ride.

Winterfell gathered an army composed of the major nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, preparing to face their greatest challenge.

What they had encountered before were merely the vanguard of the army of the dead, and the truly terrifying White Walkers had just begun to appear.

Now, an age of great strife seemed to be dawning, and the world was in turmoil everywhere.

Even in the distant Yi Ti, according to merchants, the Emperor had mobilized three hundred thousand troops to conquer foreign lands.

And the Great Grass Sea, which had just experienced turmoil and was sandwiched between Yi Ti and the Free Cities, was the same.

Before Viserys left Pentos, two rumors were circulating in the area. One was about the uprising in the Smoking Sea, and the other was about the turmoil among the Dothraki.

The three Khals who had once joined forces to invade Pentos had violated the sacred rule of not killing each other in the holy city and started fighting. The result was a bloodbath.

In the end, none of the three Khals won. They were punished by the Horse God and were defeated by a mysterious Khal from nowhere. This Khal claimed the victory.

This Khal called himself Khal 'Mengo', the same name as the first Khal who unified the Dothraki, which means 'Death'.

And now he sat majestically in a land of shadows, his face obscured, only a pair of blood-red eyes visible. He remained silent throughout, and even his breathing was not audible.

Behind him stood three people wrapped in black robes with lacquered wooden masks on their faces, two men and a woman.

The blood-red lacquered masks had two pale tear stains, which were somewhat chilling.

Everyone knew that the Khal did not like light.

Everyone also knew that the Khal did not like to talk.

Chapter 321: Khal Mengo

Khal Mengo sat in the shadows, silent, yet he issued commands to conquer other tribes, which were relayed by the shadowbinder standing behind him.

"Khal Mengo is the greatest warrior on the Great Grass Sea, he is the one who rides the world's steed."

"There can only be one true Khal on the entire Dothraki Sea."

The woman was petite, her entire body wrapped in a dark black robe, her face adorned with a mask of bright red and pale white. Her voice was cold and calm.

"All Dothraki should submit to him."

"Go."

"Declare war on all the Khals, we will defeat them one by one."

"Khal."

Listening to the cold words above, the two Khals kneeling below were as shocked as if they had been struck by a cold wind, their bodies even trembling slightly.

They didn't know if they were shocked by the woman's words or for some other reason.

They had once witnessed this woman, called the Lizard Woman, strangle a Khal with shadows who had stepped forward to accuse Khal Mengo of trusting a witch.

That strong warrior was once a lieutenant of Khal Jako. He was brave and good at fighting, his body full of scars, and he had personally beheaded a champion warrior in the Meereen arena.

However, this strong Dothraki warrior had no ability to resist this shadowbinder wrapped in a black robe.

His arakh hadn't even been raised before it was tightly bound by the other's shadow.

Then, with a light twist, his neck was broken, his head fell from his neck, and not even blood flowed out.

The Lizard Woman's magic terrified all the Dothraki who witnessed this scene.

The reason they despised witches was actually their fear of magic.

And these three shadowbinders keenly grasped this point. They claimed that the souls of the Dothraki warriors who died at the hands of the shadowbinders had also been stolen, and they were not qualified for cremation, and their souls could not reach the sky.

From then on.

There were no more opposing voices in the Khalasar, because what all Dothraki feared most was not being able to fly to the sky after death, becoming part of the stars.

"Understood."

The two former Khals knelt on the ground and submitted to the new Khal, indicating that they would obey his commands and start preparing to conquer other tribes from today.

Then Khal Pono and Khal Jako stood up, turned around, and left Khal Mengo's tent.

However, before leaving, Khal Jako lifted the curtain, couldn't help but turn his head and take another look at the huge figure sitting on the throne, shivered slightly, and then hurriedly walked out and dropped the curtain.

Pono and Jako were lucky, they still retained the title of Khal, commanding their own tribes.

But they all had to submit under the command of Khal Mengo. The three shadowbinders claimed that Khal Mengo would be the king of all Dothraki, and the same would be true for other Khals who submit in the future.

But the only difference is that all Khals who submit to the king, Khal Mengo, have to give up their shadows.

Whoosh...

Jako and Pono walked out of Khal Mengo's tent, the two looked at each other.

Although they didn't speak, they both saw the meaning in each other's eyes.

Regret, remorse.

If they hadn't fought each other back then, maybe they wouldn't have let the other take advantage of the situation.

As for the Khal...

Khal Pono and Khal Jako both shivered at the same
time, the only person who could be called Khal by both Pono and Jako was one man.

But he should be dead...

How could he not be dead?

They had once seen him walk into a sea of fire with their own eyes, yet when he walked out, he had scared both of them.

The Khal was like a resurrected ghoul, his eyes numb and flashing with a crimson glow, his body had swelled to be even larger than before, like a giant.

And under his grey-black skin, purple veins were bulging, flowing with cold, dark blood.

"He was once our Khal."

"But he... should be dead."

The two looked at each other, both understanding.

How could such a person be called a living person?

And so much time has passed, they have never heard the Khal say a word, he hides in the shadows all day without saying a word, all orders are relayed by the shadowbinders.

"Even if he is still alive, I'm afraid he's just a controlled walking corpse."

The shadowbinders control the Khal's body, making him their puppet, a tool to control the Dothraki warriors.

"The greatest horse warrior on the Great Grass Sea should not have fallen to such a fate."

Khal Pono said bitterly.

Although he had betrayed Drogo in that war, he admired him and believed that he should not be insulted after his death.

What Khal Mengo? This is clearly Drogo's body!

"So what can we do?"

And Khal Jako's face was also somewhat twisted, he gritted his teeth tightly, then lowered his voice and said.

Vaes Dothrak is now effectively controlled by Khal Mengo's tribe.

He ignored the sacred rules of the holy city, declaring that he would become the only king among the Dothraki.

He occupied the Mother of Mountains, occupied the Womb of the World, preparing to accept the submission of all Khals.

And the other ignorant Dothraki all violated the rules of the holy city in that chaos, they were scared and terrified, so they were even more eager to tear up the sacred rules.

More than forty thousand Dothraki roaring warriors were blinded.

"What can we do?"

Now the bright sun above was shining down obliquely, a word was spoken, but the hearts of the two angry Khals were cold.

Anger is anger.

They wish they could skin and debone those three shadowbinders from the distant east, gritting their teeth, but in the end, they were like deflated balls, suddenly losing their fighting spirit.

What can they do?

They have no way at all.

"Forget it."

Then the two were silent, they didn't even greet each other, and then they went their separate ways, each busy preparing to attack other tribes.

And in their departing figures.

The petite female shadowbinder walked out of the tent.

She wore a mask of crimson and pale white, her eyes calmly watching the departing figures of the two.

Seemingly knowing what they had just been discussing, she then spoke calmly.

"Let's go."

The huge figure sitting on the throne heard her command and slowly stood up.

And the other two shadowbinders also remained silent, holding their staffs and walking over.

And not far away.

"Khal."

"Khal."

There were busy Dothraki everywhere, their figures cast on the ground.

Seeing the Khal pass by, they quickly put down their work and greeted the two Khals.

And the two Khals also nodded in response.

But no one noticed that their shadows were not cast on the ground.

As if they had been eaten by a demon.

Chapter 322: Arrival at Valyria

"There are too many secrets hidden in this world, what we see is just the tip of the iceberg."

"And beneath it lies the abyss."

Viserys stood at the bow of the ship, speaking these words. He was dressed in simple clothes, a longsword at his waist, his silver hair braided neatly. He looked clean, radiant, and drew frequent glances from Mira standing beside him.

Even though Viserys had attempted to disguise himself, leaning towards an unattractive appearance, he was still strikingly handsome, irresistibly drawing the gazes of the girls.

Viserys began to speak.

Not far away, the sailors and mercenaries aboard the ship could already see the edge of the Valyrian continent.

This peninsula, once tightly connected to the continent of Essos, was shattered by a cataclysm, splitting into many fragments of varying sizes.

The smallest fragments were no more than a few dozen meters in length and width, mere islands, and even smaller ones were like reefs in the sea. The complex sea conditions in the Smoking Sea were largely due to the shattered continent, with hidden reefs everywhere. One careless move could lead to shipwreck.

This time, they were preparing to explore the main fragment of the shattered Valyrian continent.

Here lay the core secrets of Valyria and immense wealth.

From the rise of Valyria five thousand years ago, it enslaved the entire world, accumulating immeasurable wealth.

This is what attracts countless fearless explorers every year to explore the ruins in search of lost treasures.

"Why do you say that?"

Viserys sighed, and the girl standing next to him asked in confusion.

She didn't understand what Viserys meant by his words. What secrets? What iceberg?

But Viserys didn't explain much either, only that the troubles they had encountered along the way had led him to this heartfelt exclamation.

If in the outside world, no one would ever think that the Smoking Sea harbored so many horrors and secrets.

"It's nothing, just something a friend once told me," Viserys said, shaking his head.

"She warned me that the dragons have been reborn, that all the magic in the world is returning, and to be careful of those who wield special powers."

"They may suddenly reclaim their power and disdain worldly authority, wantonly disrupting the normal order."

Just like a person who has been starving for too long suddenly being able to feast, they might eat too much and harm their own body.

These were the words Melisandre had warned Viserys with.

Before she left Pentos for the Wall, she cautioned Viserys to be careful of these people.

Witches, shadowbinders, warlocks, skinchangers, and so on.

They all wielded fearsome powers, and their powers had all returned.

"Really?"

"Are they really that powerful?"

The red-haired girl was slightly stunned upon hearing Viserys's words.

She had never thought that ordinary people could wield such powerful forces, even threatening worldly authority.

Although Mira didn't live in Westeros, she lived in the relatively free city-states, but she understood the importance of lineage.

In Volantis, families without ancient lineages tracing back to Valyria had no chance of rising. Even free citizens were second-class citizens, and slaves were even worse off.

Slaves were slaves, and the children of slaves were also slaves, generation after generation, never able to turn over a new leaf.

But Mira, thinking back to the series of terrifying events they encountered after entering the Smoking Sea, couldn't help but shudder, seeming to believe it somewhat.

This mysterious power was too terrifying.

Since the first outbreak of the grey mist,
all the survivors had become much more cautious.

The grey mist didn't always have negative effects, the specific reasons for which the survivors couldn't figure out.

Perhaps only by uncovering the secrets of the Smoking Sea could they solve it.

For now, when the grey mist suddenly gathered, they had to quickly find a place to hide, evade those who had become servants of the mist, and they could survive.

And when the grey mist dispersed, they wouldn't be infected.

Viserys, Mira, and the one codenamed 'Iron Fist', along with a group of survivors on the ship, helped each other and formed a secret alliance.

Even so, the twenty ships sailed in the grey mist for a full three days.

According to the nautical chart, they should have already left the Smoking Sea, but it wasn't until the evening of the third day that they barely saw the traces of land.

During these three days, several riots occurred on the ship, and the survivors suffered heavy casualties.

Those sailors and mercenaries enslaved by the grey mist dragged them out one by one, and then killed them.

Viserys also expended a lot of effort during these grey mist riots, as a large number of infected sailors and mercenaries tried to kill them.

Mira was even infected once, her eyes turning blood red, but luckily Viserys found out in time and slapped her awake.

When she woke up, Mira covered her face and said she had been slapped by a sea monster, asking Viserys what had just happened to her.

But Viserys didn't say much, just telling her she had been dreaming.

And he found that his body seemed to have a higher resistance to the grey mist than others. Viserys had run and evaded during the time the grey mist was thick, inhaling a lot of it.

However, aside from coughing, Viserys didn't notice any discomfort.

And Viserys also confirmed what Gendry had said at that time, he seemed to have indeed seen the figure of a sea monster.

During one evasion, Viserys was separated from Mira. He killed two pursuers, one of whom he choked and threw into the sea.

At that moment, Viserys seemed to see a huge shadow swimming past under the ship in the deep, boiling sea.

It had countless 'long legs', each tentacle was more than ten meters long. It wrapped up the body of the mercenary and dragged it under the sea.

It didn't attack the ship.

Viserys was stunned for a moment when he saw this, even thinking he was seeing things.

Because the surrounding mist was too dense, and the sea was constantly boiling, he didn't see clearly, and then the huge figure disappeared.

As Viserys and Mira were chatting on the ship, the captain standing at the highest point finally spoke through the horn.

"We've arrived at the ruins of Valyria!"

"Everyone prepare to disembark!"

The flagship not far away also sent out flag signals.

Now that they were close to the continent, the grey mist had thinned a lot, and they could see the flag signals.

And having arrived at this ancient and mysterious continent, the flagship seemed to have become much more low-key, fearing that the melodious horn sound would attract some unknown existence.

"Drop anchor!"

Boom—

The captain gave the order, and with the sailors' efforts, the ship was finally secured.

Viserys, Mira, and a group of mercenaries jumped off the ship, setting foot on this land for the first time.

"So this is Valyria."

The silver-haired young man stepped on the soft, muddy ground beneath his feet. It looked no different from ordinary land, with broken stones on the ground and traces left
by previous explorers.

Viserys then lifted his head to survey the quiet surroundings. The sun was setting, casting long shadows from the trees.

But a sudden sense of unease rose in his heart.

Chapter 323: Building a Camp

"All hands—"

"Prepare to make camp!"

Once all the ships were securely docked at the shore, the multitude of mercenaries, sailors, and slaves involved in this expedition stood on the muddy, damp land.

Then, the commander of the expedition from the flagship, the chief steward of the Valantis Tiger Party, disembarked from the ship. His name was Veld Megaya, the nephew of the ruling Magister of Marajo.

Veld was highly regarded and trusted by his uncle. He had led the Tiger Robe Army of Valantis to numerous victories, which earned him this important position.

Now in his forties, Veld wore full military attire, his bright armor and hanging sword made him look quite imposing as he stood on the ship's bow. His dark eyes scanned all the people on the beach. He didn't disembark until everyone was off the ship and the beach was confirmed safe.

He then looked up at the sky and gave the order to make camp on the spot.

"Let's rest here for the night."

...

After all the commotion, it was now evening.

The setting sun.

The red glow of the sunset pierced the thin mist and bathed the land.

"Over here—"

"Hurry up."

"Bring two more logs."

Everyone began to busy themselves with setting up their tents, preparing to cook, and cutting down some trees from the surrounding forest to make a simple wall around the camp for protection.

The expedition team didn't plan to explore the ruins of Valyria under the cover of night. Marching at night has always been a taboo in this era, let alone exploring the dangerous ruins of Valyria.

Therefore, it was understandable that Veld was being extremely cautious. After all, he was an experienced commander.

Viserys was also mixed in with the crowd. He was holding an axe and was assigned to work with the others to cut down a few trees in a small forest not far from the beach.

Mira, 'Iron Fist' Gus, and his followers were all with Viserys. The survivors from their ship were still sticking together for warmth.

Thud—

He swung his axe into the tree trunk, sending wood chips flying.

Stepping foot on this land for the first time, Viserys was very careful.

From the moment he set foot on this land, he had a feeling of palpitations, as if some danger was about to come, so he quietly heightened his vigilance.

The first impression this mysterious continent gave Viserys was oppression. There were fish in the water and trees on the land. Everything looked normal, but it gave people a sense of gloom and oppression.

If he had to summarize it, it would be discord.

"Everyone, be careful."

Viserys spoke succinctly, chopping the tree while quietly reminding everyone.

"Uh-huh, got it."

The few people huddled around him all nodded.

Time passed quickly, and the sky gradually darkened.

The sunset completely disappeared below the horizon, and the world plunged into darkness. Bonfires were lit.

Although lighting a bonfire in such an unknown place is a dangerous thing, it might attract something.

But darkness breeds fear more easily. Humans cannot lose light, just like fish cannot lose water.

And the hastily built camp was already completed.

Although the conditions were a bit rudimentary, one couldn't ask for much in such a dangerous environment.

"Report any movement immediately!"

Veld arranged for some people to keep watch at night. The middle-aged man in full armor spoke sternly.

Excluding those who needed to keep watch tonight, all the remaining people were ready to rest. Viserys and Mira were lucky, they weren't so unlucky to be assigned to keep watch
on the first day.

They could get a good night's rest tonight.

The two of them were assigned to the same tent.

After spending so many days together and experiencing hardships, their relationship had gradually warmed up and they had become good friends.

However, everyone else believed that there must be something going on between Emon and Mira. At first, they thought Emon was a young gigolo, but later they realized that it was Mira who had latched onto a powerful figure.

The performance of the silver-haired young man had caught everyone's eyes, definitely a good hand.

But in fact, only the two of them knew the truth, nothing had happened between them, they were just friends who had shared hardships.

And in such an environment, they were not in the mood for anything else.

The night outside was deep.

Darkness enveloped the continent.

There were no insects chirping, no birds calling, no sound at all, the silence was suffocating.

"I have a bad feeling that tonight might not be so peaceful."

Inside the tent, Viserys took off his heavy leather armor. It was almost impossible to sleep in such stiff boiled leather armor.

But he still wore his outer clothes, not just because he was sharing a tent with a girl.

And now that they had set foot on the continent of Valyria, danger could strike at any moment. He didn't want to run out bare-bottomed.

Viserys placed the Valyrian steel dagger he carried with him under his pillow.

Valyrian steel can kill White Walkers, and it might also be effective against some monsters in the ruins.

And the red-haired girl sitting on the other sleeping bag also took off her leather armor, revealing the white lining underneath, tightly wrapped.

Although there are differences between men and women.

But neither of them showed any awkward expressions, after all, they were both trying to survive.

The girl sat on the sleeping bag with her legs crossed, her bare, clean feet showing, and she didn't seem in a hurry to sleep.

"I have the same feeling."

Mira lifted the flap of the tent and peered out. The pitch-black sky was covered with a thin layer of fog.

"The fog outside seems to have gotten thicker."

The fog on the land was thinner than that on the Smoking Sea, but its color seemed a bit darker, and it was slightly thicker at night than during the day.

The grey fog of the Smoking Sea seemed unable to invade the land, just as the sea monsters seemed to stop attacking the ships as they approached the mainland.

Viserys had seen this in Gillian's diary.

'The sea monsters seem to fear this land and don't want to get close, but they can't escape to other seas outside the Smoking Sea.'

If these sea monsters escaped the Smoking Sea.

The entire world's maritime industry would suffer a huge blow, and we would return to a time of land isolation.

Chapter 324: Monster Attack

"Weren't you always curious about why I insisted on exploring the ruins of Valyria?"

"Emon."

The red-haired girl looked at the sky outside the tent, then abruptly spoke.

"I can tell you, my parents died on this land, so I had to come here no matter what."

"Whether it's to find their remains or to avenge them, or even... just to take a look."

"Hmm?"

Viserys, who had already settled down, looked at Mira upon hearing her words.

"What about you?"

"Why are you here, Emon?"

Mira emphasized the name 'Emon' heavily.

It seemed she had known for a long time that 'Emon' was just an alias.

Viserys didn't tell her the truth.

"Me?"

Viserys was slightly taken aback, but he wasn't surprised that Mira knew he was disguising his identity.

They had been close for some time, and he must have slipped up somewhere.

"I guess I'm curious, wanting to unravel this buried history."

Viserys shook his head and spoke.

He didn't lie to Mira, he was indeed here to decipher.

"Is that so?"

Mira clearly didn't expect Viserys's reason to be deciphering. She blinked, but this time she chose to believe 'Emon's' answer.

Most of the lights in the camp's tents had been extinguished.

Except for the mercenaries on night watch holding torches, there was only faint moonlight outside, with everything else shrouded in darkness.

Viserys and Mira chatted briefly in the tent, then each lay down to rest.

Under the moonlight shrouded in mist, time quietly passed. Apart from the sound of breathing from the tents and the sound of waves hitting the ships, the world was silent.

However, perhaps it was destined to be restless on this mysterious continent.

After an unknown amount of time, a short, sharp scream broke the silence.

"Who's there?"

Then there were shouts.

It seemed someone had been attacked, and other mercenaries on night watch had noticed. Then the sound of arrows being fired rang out, one thing leading to another.

Thud, thud, thud—

The sound of bowstrings seemed to hit something.

The mercenaries chased after it, fortunately, this large-scale operation also brought about a hundred warhorses.

The monster that attacked the mercenary was hit by an arrow and seemed to be in pain, or it thought it couldn't escape while dragging its prey, so it let go.

It moved extremely fast on all fours, and its figure quickly disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace.

"Don't run!"

Some brave mercenaries rode after it, wanting to kill it, but they didn't catch anything and returned dejectedly after a while.

Mira was a light sleeper, her dagger under her pillow, so she naturally woke up during this brief interlude.

"What happened?"

However, when the red-haired girl opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was an empty sleeping bag.

Emon's figure had disappeared at some point.

"Hmm?"

"Where did Emon go?"

In the darkness, Mira's gaze slightly hardened.

She was a light sleeper, always alert, but when did Emon go out in the middle of the night?

She didn't feel it at all.

It seemed that Emon was more mysterious than she thought.

Then Mira reached out and touched Emon's sleeping bag, finding it already cold.

It seemed he didn't just leave, but had been gone for a long time.

What was Emon doing?

Mira was slightly puzzled.

He had been gone for a long time, definitely not because he left just
before the recent incident, but had left a long time ago.

And outside, it was already chaotic.

They were all mercenaries, used to dancing on the edge of a blade, so each of them was alert. The slightest rustle would wake them up.

The commander of this expedition, Wilder Megaya, naturally woke up too, sitting on the edge of his bed.

There was some anger on his face. Anyone who was woken up from a good sleep wouldn't be in a good mood.

"What the hell happened?!"

But Wilder didn't need to investigate himself. Soon enough, information was brought to him.

It turned out that a night watchman had been attacked by an unknown creature.

Some witnesses claimed it was a wolf, while others said it was much larger than a wolf, with black and white fur, sharp teeth, and it could walk upright.

However, those who chased after it reported that the creature ran on all fours, its figure indeed a bit larger than a wolf, somewhat like a shadow cat.

"So someone was attacked by a monster."

Inside Wilder's tent.

Viserys, dressed in black, his eyes flickering slightly.

At this moment, he was hiding in the shadows, silently listening to the guards reporting to their commander under everyone's noses.

"I remember Gillian's diary also described a monster surviving in the ruins of Valyria."

"But the monster Gillian encountered seemed to be a creature with fish fins, not a werewolf-like monster."

Viserys, hiding in the shadows, couldn't help but ponder this matter.

"Could these things be the mutations of the survivors left on the continent of Valyria after the Wrath of the Gods?"

Since there are sea monsters in the Smoking Sea, it wouldn't be strange for there to be other monsters on this land.

Even in the depths of the ruins of Valyria, there might be monsters that can injure the Grim Reaper.

These are likely the descendants of the survivors, mutated. They could be human mutations or animal mutations.

Just like the stone people in the Sorrows, no one knows what they've become.

Viserys's guess was bold.

And why he wasn't sleeping in his tent in the middle of the night, but was here, was to secretly go through some of the information about this operation.

Viserys's identity was special, he wasn't a real adventurer.

Although he had mixed in with these people, it didn't mean he would continue to follow them.

Viserys and Balerion had a mysterious connection.

The silver-haired young man provided Balerion with a coordinate as soon as he successfully landed on the continent of Valyria, and now all he had to do was wait for Balerion to fly over.

This route should be considered a 'safe passage' in a strict sense, at least they walked in alive.

Even the cost was less than Gillian's expedition, out of twenty ships, only two were lost in the Smoking Sea.

Volantis, being so close to the Smoking Sea and powerful, had naturally explored a relatively safer route over the years.

That's why Viserys took advantage of Volantis's power to sneak in.

And now that the outside world was in chaos, if he dragged it out, he might be discovered, it was time for Viserys to leave.

Whoosh~

Then the silver-haired young man hiding in the dark corner of the tent turned into a cloud of black mist and disappeared without a trace.

Chapter 325: Exploration

Viserys disappeared from the tent without a trace.

Those inside the tent had no inkling that someone had been lurking in the shadows, observing them for a long time, rummaging through their belongings, and then quietly departing.

The night was deep, perhaps it was already past the hour of the bat.

But there was still a long time before dawn, the horizon had not yet begun to lighten.

Many in the camp were awakened by the recent incident, and were now inquiring about what had happened. Since Viserys had come out, he decided to take a look at the scene.

Whoosh~

The area was brightly lit, with several torches lit, and it was surrounded by a crowd of people.

Viserys's appearance did not attract attention, and he pushed through the crowd to reach the front.

"What happened?"

He even pretended to be completely unaware.

"The man is dead, bitten to death, and then dragged a considerable distance."

A middle-aged mercenary, who looked to be in his thirties and was chewing on a straw, spoke up.

"I think the wound looks a bit like a wolf's bite, but..."

The middle-aged mercenary's face was somewhat gloomy, and under the bright firelight, he even looked a bit fearful. He stopped speaking, sighed, and left the area.

Viserys had been waiting for the man to continue speaking, but unexpectedly, the man suddenly fell silent and looked very upset before leaving.

The silver-haired young man furrowed his brows slightly, then turned his gaze to the bitten corpse.

The corpse looked quite ghastly, the upper body was a bloody mess, and the lower body was covered in mud.

It seemed that the monster had bitten his neck and dragged his body as it ran. It didn't get far before the mercenaries caught up.

The monster then decisively abandoned its prey and fled into the forest, disappearing without a trace.

"What kind of monster is this?"

As Viserys was carefully examining the body, the mercenaries around him were making a lot of noise. But it was clear they were using their voices to cover their fear.

After all, everyone knew about the dangers on the continent of Valyria.

The sudden attack on the camp by a monster that came without a trace and left without a trace, killing a skilled man without any resistance, stirred fear in everyone's hearts.

If this monster could easily kill this man, could it easily kill them too?

The camp was dark without torches, the few that were lit were in the hands of the night watchmen.

Could a monster sneak into the camp and, while they were asleep, do to them what it did to this poor soul, nearly biting off his head?

Although a human's neck is relatively fragile, the monster's bite force was still astonishing, directly severing his head.

It was even stronger than some tigers, lions, and bears, and the monster's speed was also astonishing, it ran very fast after abandoning its prey.

People around were making a lot of noise, but Viserys stood up and didn't continue to look.

He wasn't worried about encountering such a monster himself, such a creature couldn't kill him, so he wasn't as fearful as the others.

Then the silver-haired young man squeezed out of the crowd and returned to his own tent.

Whoosh~

Viserys lifted the curtain, and sure enough, Mira was waiting for him inside.

"Back?"

The red-haired girl asked.

She didn't ask where Viserys had gone, everyone had their own secrets, she knew this from the day she became a mercenary.

"Yes."

Viserys nodded slightly.

One of the reasons he was willing to stay with Mira was
because of this. Mira didn't have the delicacy of other girls, instead, she was very efficient and decisive. She didn't need anyone's protection because she could protect herself.

To put it bluntly, Viserys didn't think Mira was much like a girl, because no girl was like her, not treating herself as a 'girl'.

"What's the situation outside?"

Mira was silent for a moment, seeing that Viserys didn't voluntarily tell her where he had been, she knew he didn't want to say.

"A monster bit a man to death."

"It's okay."

Viserys shook his head slightly.

"Keep sleeping."

"That monster isn't very bold, it wouldn't dare to sneak into the camp."

"Oh."

Hearing Viserys's words, Mira blinked slightly, then nodded.

"Okay."

She trusted Viserys's judgment because he had saved her life in the grey fog.

Although she didn't know what the monster Viserys was talking about was, with him here, there shouldn't be a big problem.

Then the girl crawled back into her sleeping bag, lying on her side next to Viserys, her eyes watching him.

And then she quickly closed them.

The next morning.

Smoke rose, the sound of pots and pans clanging and the stirring of spoons, spreading a delicious aroma.

Although Viserys wouldn't normally eat such food, under the current circumstances, he had to endure some hardship.

After all, having good ingredients is nothing without a good cook. To be able to have a hot meal while exploring such a dangerous forbidden area was already quite good.

If it weren't for the large number of people on this expedition, and the fact that no one knew how long it would last, they might have to gnaw on dry food.

Viserys wasn't sure how the tragedy of the previous night had been handled, but when he woke up in the morning, the body was gone, even the bloodstains on the ground had disappeared.

As if nothing had happened at all.

Viserys and Mira each held a bowl of stew, and simply finished their breakfast.

Then the commander issued a gathering order.

Wilder Megaya was still in his military uniform, sitting on his warhorse, he spoke loudly.

But he didn't talk about honor or the city-state like his uncle, instead, he bluntly told the mercenaries that there was money to be made.

It seemed that Wilder understood better what these people needed, a few simple words boosted morale.

What did Volantis want?

They wanted dragon eggs, the method of making Valyrian steel, the cutting and construction techniques of black stone, books about magic, and so on.

Even the precious Valyrian steel weapons, they were willing to give up, claiming that whoever found them could keep them, and Volantis would protect their legal wealth.

But if someone found a dragon egg, it had to be handed over.

But Volantis wouldn't shortchange them, the city-state would pay a large amount of money as a reward.

Chapter 326: The Path of the Dragon

The daytime exploration began.

Apart from a small number of people left to guard the camp, and those who were on night watch duty yesterday who could rest during the day, the remaining people formed a massive team that left the beachside camp and began to march into the interior of the Valyrian continent.

Wilder rode on a warhorse, his confidants also rode on warhorses, clustering to his left and right.

"Let's move!"

It was clear that he did not trust these mercenaries hired with money.

Therefore, he and his confidants fell to the back of the team, letting the mercenaries and slaves scout ahead, ready to turn tail and run at the slightest sign of danger.

The breeze blew, the shadows of the trees swayed.

The air was filled with a strong smell of decay, making one want to vomit.

"Be careful—"

"Watch out over there."

Splash—

The exploration team composed of slaves and mercenaries was trekking through the wild grass and trees, clearing the thorns on the ground, and carefully exploring in one direction.

Valyria had been destroyed for hundreds of years, and few people had set foot on this continent during this time.

Therefore, many traces of once glorious civilizations had disappeared, regressing to the primitive era, and people were struggling to find the traces left behind.

But the exploration team was prepared.

Among the accompanying team, there were even several scholars who were proficient in Valyrian history.

Three of the scholars came from Volantis, and one came from the Citadel in Oldtown.

This was a short and stout old man who looked extremely robust, with a heavy maester's chain around his neck.

The other scholars, who were not in good health, sat in palanquins carried by slaves, while only this old man from the Citadel walked on the ground with the soldiers, occasionally squatting down to study carefully.

He believed that since he had come to Valyria, he should look and learn more from the perspective of the locals.

Viserys didn't know what this 'fellow countryman' from Westeros was called.

After all, he was afraid of being recognized, so he did not take the initiative to interact with this person.

But Viserys was a bit curious about this old man.

"This old man must be quite formidable in a fight—"

Viserys didn't know why such a thought suddenly popped into his mind.

He remembered hearing from someone that the old scholars in the Citadel would sometimes get into a fight over a problem they couldn't explain.

So this short and stout old man with a neck as thick as a bull's, was definitely a war god-level scholar.

Viserys, who was hiding in the crowd, looked very low-key and unnoticeable.

He looked at the old man not far away again, who was squatting down at the moment, his fingers rubbing the soil on the ground, and then finally withdrew his gaze.

Last night, when he was looking through the materials brought by Wilder, he saw a complete map of Valyria and a comparison map after it was shattered.

Some scholars had inferred the specific location here and made a mark.

Now, the place where Viserys landed seemed to be a place called the Blood Plain, and there was an abandoned city nearby called Furnace City.

Furnace City was once controlled by a noble Valyrian dragon king family, but now that illustrious family has been obliterated in the long river of history, disappearing without a trace.

The Blood Plain used to be part of the inland of the Valyrian Peninsula and did not border the sea, but in that doomsday crisis, the continent was shattered, the plates became
fragmented, and this place became a coastal area.

After the Valyrian Peninsula was shattered, it mainly divided into three large islands, and the exploration team landed on the largest island in the center.

Because their target was the capital of the Valyrian Freehold Empire—Valyria City.

It is said to be a city that made the gods marvel, the dragon kings of Valyria plundered the wealth of the world to build this magnificent capital.

The ambitious Volantis exploration team spent such a huge price for higher rewards.

They wanted dragon eggs, black stone craftsmanship, Valyrian steel casting techniques, etc. If these things do not appear elsewhere, they will definitely appear in this capital.

The Targaryen family also started in Valyria City, initially a common noble family in the capital.

Later, under the prophecy of 'Prophet' Daenys Targaryen, they sensed danger, and they voluntarily left the capital and came to Dragonstone Island to avoid disaster.

"What is this? A stone?"

"No."

"We've found a road—"

At this time, there was suddenly a clamor at the front of the team, obviously, there was an unexpected discovery.

"What?"

The stout maester who was walking on the ground hurried over, and the three Volantis scholars sitting in the palanquin also signaled to be carried over.

It turned out that the mercenaries and slaves walking at the front had an unexpected discovery. They found a wide and ancient Valyrian road. This road was wide enough for several carriages to run side by side, allowing a large army to march together.

Unfortunately, this road has been shattered, overgrown with weeds, and trees have extended onto the road.

"This is an ancient Valyrian road!"

"Great!"

"We're on the right path!"

The maester and scholars who came to the front quickly judged that this was the ancient road they were looking for that could lead directly to the capital of Valyria.

"We follow this ancient road all the way, cross a river, and then we will reach the capital of Valyria."

With a positive discovery, the morale of the exploration team naturally became very high, and Viserys was also much happier.

Because Balerion had successfully flown across the Smoking Sea and arrived on the Valyrian continent, landing not far from the camp.

The Smoking Sea didn't have too strong a hallucinogenic effect on Balerion who flew over it from the sky. And from the emotions Balerion fed back to him, it seemed that it had just killed a monster and swallowed it alive, and the monsters on the outskirts could not pose a threat to a giant dragon for the time being.

The discovery of the Valyrian ancient road made him happy, and the successful arrival of Balerion naturally made Viserys very happy.

Because this means that he now has no worries.

"I wonder how the fight between the White Walkers and the allied forces is going at the Wall?"

Viserys thought slightly.

He had been away from Pentos for a while now, this time was not long, but not short either.

But before he left, the White Walkers had not appeared, there were only some traces of the dead.

The reason he took this opportunity to explore the ruins of Valyria was actually for several reasons.

First, because of the turmoil in the Smoking Sea, things related to the ruins of Valyria appeared to have unusual changes that caught his attention.

Second, he knew that the battle between the allied forces and the White Walkers would not be decided quickly.

If he held a large army on the other side of the Narrow Sea and watched people die without helping, waiting to reap the benefits, it would inevitably leave a bad
impression on the nobles and common people of the Seven Kingdoms.

A king who watches people die without helping, watches the people being slaughtered by White Walkers, and then, in the future, when the living and the dead are both weakened from the fight, leads a large number of foreigners to backstab his own country and slaughter his own soldiers...

How much trust and support can he gain from the people?

Chapter 327: Ambush

Indeed, Viserys commanded a formidable force.

He had over sixty thousand soldiers, and three dragons that would only grow larger with time. He had fame, wealth, and military power.

Viserys could use brute force to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, silencing all opposition.

He could rule without the trust of the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, even reducing them all to commoners and replacing them with foreigners.

He could also rule without the trust and support of the people of Westeros, ruling through force alone.

But if he had neither, what use would the throne be to Viserys?

He understood that ruling was more difficult than conquering.

That's why he didn't want to get involved in this war too early.

He didn't want to give people a reason to criticize him, to accuse him of standing by and doing nothing, or even of betraying the alliance in a war that involved all of humanity, between the living and the dead.

That's why Viserys chose to leave Pentos at this time.

Because his people had already left Pentos, no one could find fault with him on this matter.

In the future, he could even arrive as a savior, winning even more support from the people.

This was Viserys's ideal plan.

But the problem now was obvious: the distance was too great.

The connection between the 'servant' Bessie, whom he had reclaimed through the black fog, and Viserys had long been severed.

Viserys could not communicate directly with Bessie now. He guessed it was due to the distance, not because he was in a special region.

Because Viserys could still communicate with the black dragon Balerion.

Although the connection was severed, he didn't think either side would quickly determine a victor.

The possibility of the human alliance defeating the army of the dead was not great, after all, the enemy's numbers only increased as the battle raged on.

But it wouldn't be easy for the alliance to collapse in a short time either. After all, this was an army assembled from the Seven Kingdoms, the strongest card of the Baratheon dynasty. Moreover, the alliance had many natural defenses to fall back on.

The easily defended and hard to attack Bay of Crabs, the treacherous Neck, the Bloody Gate of the Vale, the Twins, Casterly Rock, and so on...

The possibility of humans holding these natural defenses against the White Walkers still existed.

But the greatest natural defense humans could rely on was the Wall, which the magic of the White Walkers could not cross.

But who was to blame for the Wall's collapse due to human infighting?

As Viserys thought about the outside world, the expedition to explore the ruins of Valyria continued to move forward.

They moved along this ancient Dragon Road without encountering any trouble during the day, which everyone found very fortunate.

Then the expedition set up camp to rest for the night at a suitable location along the road, and set off for the capital of Valyria the next day.

However, their happiness didn't last long. In such a dangerous environment, things wouldn't go smoothly.

Viserys was in the middle of the group, and he had already keenly noticed that the number of lurking figures in the woods along the road was increasing.

Pairs of blood-red eyes, even drooling, if it weren't for the large number of people in the expedition making these monsters hesitate, they might have already pounced.

"Be careful."

"Stay alert—"

Viserys was the first to become alert, his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist.

The mercenaries and slaves around him clearly hadn't noticed
the impending danger yet.

"Hmm."

Hearing Viserys's warning, Mira also became tense and gave a soft hum.

Shing—

She drew a dagger from her thigh, skillfully performed a 'dagger dance', then gripped it tightly in her hand. 'Iron Fist' Gus and their underlings also became alert.

And then...

The crisis suddenly struck.

The monsters lurking in the woods had gathered in increasing numbers, and finally, one of them couldn't resist and pounced first.

Roar—

They hadn't seen so much fresh meat in a long time. Sharp fangs dripped with saliva, and with a terrifying roar, it burst out from the woods, biting into the neck of an unsuspecting slave.

This slave had a short sword at his waist and was holding a stick, beating the bushes to prevent snakes from darting out.

But he never expected that such a monster, covered in black and white fur, was hiding in the woods.

The monster ran on all fours at an extremely fast speed, its sharp fangs biting into his throat, instantly crushing his windpipe.

Blood gushed out instantly, flowing back into his airway, and he couldn't even cry out for help before the monster dragged him into the woods.

"Enemy attack!!"

The monster's sudden attack was met with a quick response from the group. The slaves, lacking combat skills, scattered and fled, while the mercenaries drew their weapons and charged forward.

"Quick, form a formation and kill these monsters!"

The expedition's commander, Veld, quickly spurred his horse forward when he saw the trouble, and shouted his orders.

Unfortunately, the mercenaries were not the soldiers he trained daily.

These mercenaries might be stronger than ordinary soldiers in individual combat, but their teamwork was lacking, and they didn't know how to form a formation, easily falling into a state of every man for himself.

The commander's orders didn't affect many people, only a few dozen formed a circle in an attempt to resist the monsters.

And many more mercenaries chose to fight on their own.

"Kill!"

Thud—

A mercenary stabbed a monster in the throat with his long sword, but before he could get up, another monster smashed his head with its claw.

Viserys also joined the melee. His swordsmanship was excellent, and his speed, strength, and reaction far exceeded that of ordinary people.

The monster's face was ferocious, looking like a werewolf, its sharp fangs stained with blood, and a pair of blood-red eyes.

Its powerful hind legs gave it a strong jumping ability, and its black claws easily tore open a mercenary's belly.

"Roar—"

The monster killed a mercenary and let out a terrifying roar, then immediately pounced on Viserys.

"Watch out!"

Mira saw the monster targeting Viserys and her heart tightened, she cried out in alarm.

But Viserys was fully focused on the monster's attack, ignoring Mira's voice. He held his blood-stained long sword in one hand and calmly watched as it pounced on him.

Then, just as the werewolf was about to knock him down, he quickly dodged the monster's attack.

Immediately, his long sword easily pierced the werewolf's belly.

Thud—

His movements were incredibly fast.

He looked like a highly skilled butcher, his long sword tearing the monster's belly, shredding its organs.

Chapter 328: Plague

The monster let out a painful roar, but it didn't fall immediately. Instead, it was provoked into a frenzy.

With a furious roar, it lunged again, its black claws slashing viciously, aiming to tear Viserys to shreds.

However, Viserys' body had been enhanced, his speed and strength far surpassing that of ordinary people.

The monster was fast, but in front of Viserys, it seemed to be moving in slow motion.

The silver-haired youth's purple eyes flickered with light, quickly analyzing the monster's desperate lunge. His hand gripped his long sword tightly.

"Too slow."

He easily dodged the attack again, displaying his superior skills.

This time, as Viserys dodged, he drew the dagger at his waist with his left hand, and swiftly pulled it out, easily piercing the monster's lower jaw.

"Die—"

The monster, with its black and white fur resembling a werewolf, had tough skin.

However, against the Valyrian steel dagger, its skin was as fragile as paper.

Thud—

The sharp sound of flesh being pierced echoed again.

Viserys didn't fall under the monster's weight, and he pulled out the Valyrian steel dagger. The monster fell heavily to the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust. This time, it was completely silent, thoroughly dead.

"Phew~"

Viserys let out a light breath. The monster was fast and powerful, but it wasn't difficult for him to handle.

Then, Viserys squatted down to carefully examine the monster he had killed.

Up close, the monster's appearance became very clear. Its eyes were blood-red and full of malice, even in death.

Its cheeks were covered in black fur, and its body was covered in black, needle-like fur, except for a large patch of white on its back. Its face was hideous and terrifying, and human blood and clothing were still on its fangs. It seemed to be from the unfortunate one it had just bitten.

Viserys had never seen such a monster before, but looking at its appearance, with a body similar to a human and a wolf's head, capable of walking upright...

"What kind of monster is this? A real werewolf?"

"The descendants of the survivors of the Valyrian Doomsday?"

Viserys frowned slightly, unable to figure out the reason for the existence of these monsters. This was just a trace of the mysteries that shrouded the Valyrian ruins.

"Perhaps the deeper we go, the more dangerous it will be..."

The silver-haired youth held the dragonsteel dagger in one hand, his heart somewhat heavy. Then he looked up at the end of the ancient road.

"But there are also more amazing treasures there."

"Dragon eggs, dragonsteel weapons, magic..."

The dragon eggs that the Magister of Volantis was expecting might be at the end of this ancient road.

This road could lead to the capital of a great empire, where all the secrets might be hidden: black fog, dragons, monsters, devils, and so on...

There was also the old house of the Targaryen family in the capital of Valyria. If he could really get into the capital, Viserys might be able to go home.

While Viserys was examining the monster's body, another monster noticed that Viserys had killed one of its kind. It let out a piercing howl and lunged at him.

"Eymon!"

"Watch out—"

The red-haired girl shouted a warning, then threw the dagger in her hand, trying to stop it.

But the monster easily dodged it and lunged again.

Although Viserys was
squatting on the ground examining the monster's body, he was also on high alert.

In fact, he had noticed this monster even without Mira's warning. It had just killed three of the expedition's slaves.

"These monsters..."

The silver-haired youth frowned slightly, then drew his sword and went to meet it.

...

A fierce battle ensued, lasting not too long.

The expedition suffered heavy losses, and the monsters were also heavily hit.

Although the monsters were very powerful, with one monster able to handle several mercenaries at once, the expedition had the advantage of numbers.

In the end, at a heavy cost, they repelled these werewolf-like monsters, leaving a field full of bodies.

"Clean up the battlefield, then continue on our way!"

"Form a formation this time, stay alert!"

The commander gave the order again.

The bodies of the mercenaries and slaves should have been cremated or buried according to logic, but Veld and his confidants decided to abandon them here, only picking up their weapons, equipment, and food.

They felt that these monsters probably attacked the expedition because they were hungry. As long as they left enough 'food' for them, they should not bother the expedition.

In fact, Veld's judgment was not wrong, just a bit too cruel. Many of the cruel mercenaries in the expedition even showed signs of discomfort.

After all, feeding human bodies to monsters is hard to accept on any human psychological level.

Then the expedition continued along this Dragon Road, aiming directly at the Valyrian capital at the end of the ancient road.

And those monsters did come out to eat the bodies on the ground after the expedition left. Although some monsters quietly followed, the number had decreased a lot.

...

Time passed quickly.

Two more days passed for the expedition.

The weather today was a bit gloomy.

Perhaps it was because they were delving deeper into the ruins.

Even the sun above their heads had turned black, and the surrounding fog gradually turned from gray to a deeper darkness.

At the same time, a light rain started unexpectedly, falling on the weed-covered road.

The mood of the expedition members fell to the bottom, completely devoid of the excitement of a few days ago.

The drizzle soaked their clothes, the road became muddy and difficult to navigate, and out of necessity, the commander ordered them to set up camp.

They had left many markers on the road to ensure they could return smoothly in the future.

However, just when everyone thought that a light rain would only require a short rest before they could set off again—

A plague quietly arrived.

At first, someone started coughing, then it became more and more severe, until they coughed up blood. Everyone reacted in panic.

The commander reacted promptly, isolating everyone who had close contact with him. Soon after, these people all showed some symptoms.

Everyone who saw this felt a chill.

This ancient and mysterious lost continent was finally starting to strike at them—

A large number of expedition members began to cough, have fevers, and even fell to the ground coughing up blood, their bodies showing marble-like patterns.

"Burn them!"

Veld Megar made the right decision at this time, ordering the release of rockets to burn those infected with the plague.

Because only in this way can the virus be effectively killed.

Viserys watched this scene with a somewhat solemn expression. He told everyone following him to tear off strips of cloth to make masks and keep a distance from others.

Then, after the expedition lost a lot of members, they set off again.

And this time, not much time passed.

They finally saw the river guarding the capital at the end of the road.

They could even vaguely see the ruins in the distance.

Chapter 329: First Battle Victory

"Open the gates!"

The icy gate issued a harsh noise, and a group of fully armed knights emerged from the city.

They were clad in thick furs for warmth, their helmets wrapped with hats that covered many parts of their faces, including their ears and cheeks.

Only a pair of eyes were exposed, their breath turning into white fog in the cold air. The horses snorted, also exhaling white mist.

"This godforsaken North, it's bloody cold."

The knights stepped out of the city gate, and one of them grumbled from atop his horse.

The world outside the city was a vast expanse of white. A heavy snowfall covered everything within their field of vision, frosting everything in sight.

The snowstorm obstructed their view, preventing Lord Lefford from seeing anything further. All he could hear was the howling wind.

"Shut your mouth, Laman."

The somewhat rotund Lord Lefford, riding his horse, glared at the outspoken knight behind him.

Above them, the soldiers of the North standing on the walls of Winterfell glared at them, clearly having heard their words.

They were soldiers from the Westerlands. Duke Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock had not personally come to the North, entrusting Lord Lefford to lead the Westerlands' troops.

They were now on a logistical mission, escorting a batch of supplies that had recently arrived from the South, departing from Winterfell to the defenses of the Wall.

Laman, a knight of Casterly Rock, was indeed a vassal of the Lannister family.

But now they all had to listen to Lord Lefford of Golden Tooth, who was currently the commander of the Westerlands' troops.

Laman merely grunted and didn't dare to argue. If he truly angered Leo Lefford, no one would plead for him even if he were sentenced to death.

At this time, someone naturally tried to change the subject.

"I heard that King Robert won a victory recently. It seems these White Walkers aren't so terrifying after all."

"Hmph."

The rotund Lord Lefford snorted coldly, but didn't say much more.

...

Not long ago.

The army of the dead had invaded, and a large number of wights had appeared in places like the Frozen Shore, Frostfangs, and Fist of the First Men.

The wildling tribes that had not fled with Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall, had suffered a terrible catastrophe.

And in this process, the army of the dead, like a snowball, gradually grew.

Since receiving frequent reports of White Walker sightings.

And the gap in the Wall had been repaired at a great cost, a small castle was built in a very short time.

King Robert led the allied army's many generals and nobles to the newly repaired Castle Black.

The main force of the allied army was stationed here. The endless tents stretched to the horizon, various family banners fluttered, and the vast army trained hard every day. He planned to ambush the enemy and the White Walkers here for a decisive battle.

King Robert might not have been good at ruling, he couldn't be called a competent king, and many people even described him as a drunkard and a fool.

But when it came to warfare, Robert was brave and good at fighting, a formidable warrior.

"A good commander wouldn't abandon the advantage of defense. We just need to hold the Wall, I believe..."

Robert's younger brother Stannis was still as stubborn as a rock.

Although the two brothers had briefly reconciled, that was when Robert thought Stannis was dead, and the surprise of his resurrection.

Then Stannis mirac
ulously turned the tide, capturing Mance Rayder alive and returning to Winterfell.

But now, the brief warmth was forgotten, and the two brothers were still at odds.

Donal Noye, the Night's Watch blacksmith familiar with the Baratheon brothers, once compared the three.

"If Robert is true steel, then Stannis is pure iron, black, hard, and strong, but also easily damaged, just like iron, it will break before it bends."

"As for Renly, he's like shiny copper, looks pretty, but isn't worth much."

The blacksmith's words were accurate.

Stannis stubbornly opposed his brother's risk-taking, just like a stone. He believed that they only needed to hold the Wall, even with a gap, they could stop the army of the dead.

And Eddard Stark also advised Robert, the snow outside was falling heavily, it was not suitable for an offensive.

But in the end, Robert overruled all objections, personally leading an elite force of knights drawn from the allied armies of the Seven Kingdoms. They bypassed the enemy by the eastern sea, marched through the Haunted Forest, and struck directly at the rear of the army of the dead along the Milkwater River.

The White Walker commanding the army of the dead never expected that the human army would dare to launch an offensive.

And to come around from their rear, catching them off guard.

Because they had intelligence, all the knights smeared their swords with oil before the attack, and the arrowheads of the archers were also soaked in oil.

Then the army charged out and wiped out this army of the dead, which had thousands of soldiers, at a very small cost.

And the leader of this army of the dead, a White Walker with skin as pale as the moon and eyes of cold beauty, engaged in a one-on-one duel with the human king.

He was covered in reflective armor that changed color with movement, somewhat like the armor worn by the Children of the Forest in legends.

His swordsmanship was exquisite, wielding a long sword made of thin crystal shards that emitted a strange blue light.

The White Walker moved extremely fast and was very strong. The elite knights of the Seven Kingdoms crushed the unorganized army of the dead and set them ablaze. Then they surrounded this White Walker.

"Ohhh!"

"Kill him!"

"Kill him!"

The knights of the Seven Kingdoms swarmed, trying to kill this terrifying White Walker.

However, these elite knights couldn't take him down and were instead killed by the White Walker one after another, as easily as breaking dry twigs, without any resistance.

The knights' flaming swords shattered like glass upon contact with the White Walker's icy blade, which was so cold it could shatter anything, including the bodies of the knights.

At this moment, King Robert stepped forward.

He had taken the Stark family's greatsword Ice before setting off, in case he encountered a real White Walker.

"Get out of my way!"

The tall man with a full beard held the two-handed greatsword and roared.

Then he fiercely charged forward and engaged the White Walker in a one-on-one duel.

Clang—

The Valyrian steel greatsword Ice struck hard against the White Walker's icy blade.

Chapter 330: Siege Begins

"Kill!"

The two figures clashed together.

Clang, clang, clang—

Snowflakes continued to fall from the sky, while below, the weapons of the two combatants collided violently, even sparking.

"You monster! Go back to the seventh hell where you belong!"

King Robert Baratheon roared, his round face dripping with sweat.

However, the king, known for his strength, seemed to be suppressed by the real White Walker.

The White Walker looked thin, like a skeleton, but its strength was extraordinarily terrifying, as if it was enhanced by magic.

The White Walker seemed to realize that the robust man in front of it was not ordinary, so it tried desperately to kill him.

It let out a horrifying shriek, like the sound of ice cracking, or some ancient language that had long been lost.

The White Walker wanted to kill the human king, but instead, it gave Robert an opportunity.

Thud—

The rotund king fell to the ground, panting slightly.

Clang—

Then, somewhat clumsily, he rolled on the spot, avoiding the White Walker's attack. The Walker's icy sword struck the ground.

"Die!"

Robert, holding the greatsword with both hands, seized the opportunity and fiercely thrust it into the Walker's chest.

Crack—

The Valyrian greatsword pierced the White Walker's chest, but there was no sound of a sword piercing flesh. It was like splitting a chunk of ice, making a grating sound that made one's teeth ache.

The White Walker seemed a little stunned, as if it hadn't expected to be defeated by a weak human.

Then, the next second.

Boom—

The White Walker's body suddenly made a loud noise, then exploded like a shattered ice block.

It turned into pieces of ice scattered all over the ground.

...

King Robert became the first person to kill a White Walker with his own hands. Leading the elite knights of the Seven Kingdoms, he achieved the first victory, greatly boosting the morale of the allied forces.

For a time, everyone in the allied forces praised the king's bravery, even calling him the 'White Walker Slayer', and there were some who mocked the cowardice of the two dukes.

Because once, King Robert, against all advice, decided to take the initiative to attack the White Walkers. This plan was strongly opposed by the Duke of Winterfell and the Duke of Dragonstone. They believed that the king should stay in the safe Winterfell and not risk his life.

But in the end, the facts proved that His Majesty the King was wise and brave, easily achieving victory in the war, annihilating more than three thousand wights with minimal losses.

And all the bodies, including the wights and human soldiers, were all burned to prevent the White Walkers from reviving these soldiers, increasing the number of wights.

After all, here were the best commanders and soldiers from all over the Seven Kingdoms. The strength of the Baratheon dynasty at its peak and the fragmented Baratheon dynasty after the War of the Five Kings were completely different.

A unified king can gather strong power and the hearts of the people, and everyone can face the enemy of all mankind together.

Before this battle, even a nobleman from the Riverlands suggested that they could ask for help from Viserys across the Narrow Sea.

After all, the Targaryen family had been the king of the Seven Kingdoms for nearly three hundred years, and now they are strong and powerful, how could they stand by and watch?

However, this suggestion was immediately vetoed by King Robert with a snort and a glare.

If it weren't for the fact that he didn't want to kill his own people before the war, he would
even want to send this cowardly fool to the gallows.

He would never bow his head and ask for help from the remnants of the Targaryen family, even if he was defeated.

Even the cold-hearted Duke Eddard Stark showed a displeased expression in the great hall.

However, it seemed to remind him of his own illegitimate son, including his complex background, and then a thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

This proposal, along with the first victory of the allied forces and the king's displeasure, ended here.

The figure of the White Walker really began to appear beyond the Wall, and the news of the first victory of the allied forces quickly flew over the Neck and spread to the south.

The nobles enjoying the warm life in the south raised their glasses to celebrate, praising the bravery of the king and thanking the soldiers for their dedication.

Casterly Rock, King's Landing, Riverrun, and other places all held banquets to celebrate this moment. A small victory was touted as a great victory, as if the moment of defeating the White Walkers was imminent.

However, in fact, the southern nobles had never seen such a monster and didn't take it to heart.

After all, His Majesty the King was standing in front of them.

And the news reached the wildling tribes mixed with the Hill tribes in the depths of the Mountains of the Moon.

The leader of the wildling tribe sneered at the celebration of these 'kneelers'.

These people didn't know what White Walkers were, let alone how terrifying these monsters were.

He even warned the Hill tribes, who had become their friends, to be ready to run south at any time if things went wrong.

The farthest south is what?

Called Dorne, right?

"White Walkers can't be killed!"

"Their bodies are extremely cold and can freeze all weapons, and they are covered in ice armor that is impervious to swords and spears!"

The wildlings have a wide range of activities beyond the Wall, and some cold-resistant races live in the snow-covered land all year round.

And they encountered the real White Walkers earlier than humans, and their intelligence was much more sufficient than humans.

At that time, the wildlings had fought with the White Walkers many times, and it was because they couldn't beat them that they wanted to run south.

"White Walkers can't be killed, and those killed by them will bizarrely resurrect, then get up from the ground, becoming monsters like walking corpses."

"The servants of the White Walkers are wights, and wights keep killing other humans, creating new wights."

"Like this over and over again..."

As he spoke, the leader of the wildling tribe shivered slightly, as if he didn't dare to continue. He had already imagined that terrifying scene.

The number of the army of the dead is growing at a terrifying speed.

"How could this be an enemy that humans can deal with?"

"Perhaps only the king in your mouth who has three dragons can defeat the White Walkers."

White Walkers are not humans, and neither are dragons.

Let these two extreme monsters that can trample and slaughter humans at will, one ice and one fire, perish together… perhaps this is the best outcome for humans.

...

The words of the wildling leader stunned the leaders of the Hill tribes.

However, in reality, everything he said was happening beyond the Wall.

King Robert crushed an army of wights, but it did not make the White Walkers retreat. This was just a drop in the bucket for the White Walkers.

A few days later.

Outside the Wall.

Dark shadows began to stir in the Haunted Forest.

"Are these... all dead?"

Standing on the top
of the Wall's watchtower, the soldier faced the snowstorm, the howling wind in his ears, and felt a chill run down his spine.

Then, finally, the warning horn sounded.

Woo—

In an instant, the entire silent sky was filled with the sound of the horn.

Hundreds of thousands of wights were pressing in, and more than a dozen White Walkers appeared at the front of the army of the dead.

The leading White Walker was clad in heavy ice armor, and on its bald head seemed to be a crown of ice.

A pair of deep blue eyes burned with cold flames.

It raised its head and looked at the top of the Wall.

Chapter 331: Throwing the Spear

Atop the Wall.

The leader of the human alliance, King Robert Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms, stood in the blinding snowstorm, his eyes bright and piercing, looking down at the endless horde of wights below.

He saw the White Walker leading the horde, riding atop a skeletal horse. This was the leader of all the White Walkers, the commander of the army of the dead, the Night King.

"The Night King..."

"Is that what he's called?"

"Eddard!"

Robert Baratheon, gripping his warhammer, was surrounded by a howling cold wind. The blinding snowstorm made it almost impossible to keep his eyes open. He turned slightly to Eddard Stark, who stood beside him.

The last time, he had used the ancestral Valyrian steel greatsword 'Ice' of House Stark to kill a White Walker. Now, he had returned the divine weapon to Eddard.

"Yes, Your Grace!"

"He must be the Night King!"

The middle-aged man with dark brown hair stood atop the Wall, looking at the White Walker below, who wore a crown of ice. He took a deep breath and spoke loudly.

The snowstorm was so intense that they had to raise their voices to be heard over it. The sight of the endless army of the dead below also put a great psychological pressure on the Duke of Winterfell.

Although he appeared calm on the surface, his palms were already sweating.

In the human world, the leader of the White Walkers is given the title 'Night King'.

Eight thousand years ago, during the Long Night caused by the attack of the White Walkers, the leader of the White Walkers probably didn't even know that he had been given the title 'King of the Night' by humans.

Similarly, thousands of years ago.

After the first attack of the White Walkers ended, the thirteenth commander of the Night's Watch also proclaimed himself the Night King.

There are many theories about his origin, such as the Bolton family, Magnar clan, Umber family, Flint clan of the mountain tribes, Norrey clan, Woodfoot family, and so on.

Of course, there is a more widespread theory that this commander of the Night's Watch came from the Stark family, and the 'King in the North' who later defeated him were brothers.

He proclaimed himself 'Night King', and led the Night's Watch in rebellion, crowning a woman suspected of being a White Walker as his queen.

Although both are called the Night King, there seems to be no necessary connection between the two Night Kings.

But this is a story from ancient times, and no one knows the secrets of that era except the people of that time.

Perhaps the two are the same person, after all, people don't even understand the existence of the White Walkers now.

"Hmph—"

"This bastard, I'll smash his skull myself!" Robert Baratheon grunted.

"Disturbing the rest of the dead is the most unforgivable sin. By the Seven, this damned Night King is controlling so many corpses, why doesn't the impartial Father punish this unrepentant sinner and send him to the seven hells..."

Robert rambled on, probably about why the Seven didn't punish and drive away these demons and ghosts.

But there is an original text in the Seven-Pointed Star.

'Demons, ghosts, or spirits cannot harm those who believe in the Seven. Believers can travel the world with their faith as armor.'

'Human life is like a candle in the wind, which can be extinguished by a gentle breeze. In this world, death is not far from us, and the seven hells await
those unrepentant sinners.'

'All sins will eventually be forgiven, but first, they must be punished.'

Although Robert often mentions 'seven hells' or even more vulgar phrases, he is a devout man. He believes that the Seven will firmly stand by his side and help him defeat these demons and ghosts.

Eddard Stark, listening to his good friend cursing and swearing here, seemed to want to say something several times but stopped himself.

He really wanted to tell Robert that they were now in the North, the territory of the Old Gods, where the Seven had no sway...

And while you believe in the Seven, the White Walkers surely have their own gods.

However, the Warden of the North is a man who adheres to honor and is cautious in his words and deeds.

In the end, he didn't say these words, but just warned Robert.

"Your Grace, we must not blaspheme the gods at this time!"

Down below.

The Night King, riding atop a skeletal horse, looked up at the Wall above his head. His gaze was sharp, and in his hollow eye sockets burned a fierce, icy blue flame.

He saw the two men on the top of the city wall, one wearing a golden crown, and the other with a wolf badge on his chest.

"Hmm?"

The Night King made a sound like the cracking of ice, as if expressing confusion.

He saw the wolf badge on Eddard's chest, which seemed to remind him of something, and his brow, devoid of eyebrows, furrowed slightly.

The Night King's brow furrowed, and the ice mist surrounding him became even denser.

Then he made a cryptic sound and extended a hand.

Another White Walker, riding a skeletal bear, seemed to understand and silently handed an icy spear to the Night King.

Although they were all White Walkers, there was a clear hierarchy among them, distinct from the mindless horde of wights behind them.

There were those who rode ice wolves, those who, like the Night King, rode skeletal horses, and those who rode the corpses of mammoths.

And the Night King was clearly their leader.

The man radiating cold tightly gripped the icy spear handed to him by his subordinate, then turned in a different direction, looking up again at the two men standing atop the Wall.

And Robert and Eddard on the Wall couldn't see clearly...

Did the Night King just take a spear from one of his subordinates?

"What is he trying to do?"

"Is he going to throw it up here?"

Robert Baratheon, holding his warhammer, sounded puzzled.

But at the same time, a bad feeling surged in his heart. After all, the Wall was seven hundred feet high...

But before Robert could finish his sentence.

The next second.

Whoosh—

The Night King looked up at the two men on the Wall, especially Eddard Stark standing next to Robert.

His eyes flickered with blue flames, then he raised his hand and threw the icy spear in his hand.

The spear made a piercing sound that could be heard from a great distance. It tore through the white curtain of snow, flying straight towards Eddard Stark's chest.

Both Robert and Eddard, although they no longer had to personally fight due to their high positions, were excellent warriors in their time and reacted extremely quickly.

"Watch out!"

The faces of the King and the Warden of the North changed.

Chapter 332: The Assault of the White Walkers

"Your Grace, watch out!"

Eddard reacted swiftly, the man with dark brown hair abruptly pushing Robert away from his side.

He had never imagined that the Night King's first target would be himself, not the human king beside him.

However, after pushing Robert away, Eddard didn't foolishly stand in place waiting for death; he too threw himself to the ground.

Boom—

Just as Eddard hit the ground, his cheek touching the cold snow, he heard a loud noise behind him.

The spear thrown by the Night King, like a cruise missile, directly overturned the snow shed above their heads, blasting it into the sky, then falling freely behind the Wall.

"Holy shit!"

King Robert, pushed to the ground by his good brother, was also somewhat taken aback, his eyes wide as bells, his mouth full of snow.

"Seven hells! This... this bloody—"

Robert was stunned for a moment, not knowing what to say, watching as the snow shed above their heads was blasted into the air, then fell back down.

Meanwhile, not far away, the captain of the Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy, was guarding the crane.

He needed to ensure that His Grace the King could smoothly leave the top of the Wall, and also that he wouldn't overhear the conversation between His Grace and Duke Eddard.

However, the sudden change startled the white-haired old knight. Was it a ballista that had been fired?

"Your Grace!"

Sir Barristan quickly ran over, intending to help his loyal king up from the ground.

"What the hell kind of monster is this?!"

Before he could help him up, he heard the king cursing loudly.

Hearing the king cursing with such vigor while lying on the ground, Barristan breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the big black fat man got up from the ground himself, brushing the snow off his body.

The spear had missed, he was unharmed, and naturally didn't need anyone to help him up.

However, even so, Robert was still somewhat taken aback, this had almost shattered his worldview.

His Grace the King was bold and courageous, and had even just declared that he would smash this damn Night King with one hammer blow.

But at that time, he had never thought that the leader of the White Walkers would be so outrageous...

Was this a monster that humans could deal with?

Throwing a spear with bare hands was like a ballista, and he even suspected that this was more powerful than a ballista.

"He... wanted to kill me?"

Eddard Stark, who had just saved the king, was still lying in the snow, also somewhat taken aback, and for some reason, this thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

However, his chest heaving, lying in the snow, he thought for a moment.

"It should be... just a miss, right?"

Then the Duke of Winterfell shook his head to drive away the wild thoughts in his mind, and then got up from the ground.

...

Down below.

The Night King, with an icy crown atop his head, looked up, seeing that he had not killed the 'Direwolf of the Ice Plains' that he detested with his first strike, his tightly furrowed brow relaxed slightly, but he didn't say much.

To him, humans were already like ants.

Unless the ancestors of these humans were resurrected and used magic to stop his progress, these people alone could not stop the cold from engulfing the entire world.

The Night King didn't care that he hadn't killed this Stark in passing, then his eyes, burning with cold flames, withdrew their gaze, falling again on the collapsed gap in the Wall

.

The Wall was originally the biggest obstacle blocking his path, he had always been waiting for a suitable opportunity, but he didn't expect it to collapse due to human infighting.

Then the Night King, silent, simply waved his hand.

"Roar—"

The next second.

Countless wights let out a deafening, terrifying roar, the sound piercing the sky, causing the snow on the city wall to tremble slightly.

And the dozen or so White Walkers following him also controlled their mounts to charge forward, leading the ice spiders and the sea of corpses towards the wall that humans had hastily built in an attempt to stop the cold.

Since the Wall had collapsed, the magical barrier had cracks, it would not hinder him, and the humans blocking the way were even more vulnerable.

The Night King was no longer prepared to drag it out, he waved his hand, wanting these ignorant mortals to embrace darkness and death.

But clearly, these mortals did not want to obey the Night King's command and just die willingly.

"All men!"

"Prepare to meet the enemy!"

The head of House Tarly from the Horn Hill, Lord Randyll Tarly, abruptly drew his sword 'Heartsbane' from his waist.

The Valyrian steel sword reflected light in the weak sunlight.

The bald man's face was serious, sporting a short, hard beard, he was considered one of the best commanders in the Seven Kingdoms, possessing an iron will.

And the motto of House Tarly was also 'First in Battle', never forgetting the way of bravery from generation to generation.

Randyll Tarly shouted orders loudly, covered in steel from head to toe, commanding the soldiers to organize a defense, while also eliminating everyone's fear...

Including his own.

"There's nothing to fear from the White Walkers!"

"Our King Robert just killed one not long ago!"

Randyll Tarly shouted loudly, boosting morale, while his eyes stared fiercely at the army of the dead, who were roaring deafeningly and surging towards the battlements.

Although he said there was nothing to fear, there was no trace of relaxation on his face, but rather a serious expression.

He had previously strongly opposed King Robert's sniping of the Army of the Dead from the Wall.

'A wall intact is the best barrier, but once there is a flaw, the enemy will seize the opportunity to attack fiercely, leading to a total collapse.'

He believed they should retreat to Winterfell, disperse the enemy's forces, and at the same time evacuate all the people of the North to the south to prevent the Army of the Dead from being replenished.

An excellent commander can come up with a reasonable countermeasure in the shortest time no matter what kind of enemy they face.

However, King Robert, who had just gained confidence, did not accept Randyll Tarly's opinion.

He insisted that the Wall was the best place to stop the White Walkers, and he wanted to fight a decisive battle with the White Walkers here.

Actually, Robert's point of view was not wrong, after all, letting the White Walkers into the North would bear a huge responsibility if they failed, both of their ideas had their pros and cons.

But the difference between the two was that the king's command was absolute.

Randyll Tarly was not Stannis and couldn't argue with the king, he could only kneel on one knee and obey the king's command.

He is now responsible for the command of the battle on the wall.

"Relax, lads!"

Randyll Tarly stood on the battlements, holding the family's ancestral weapon Heartsbane, determined to lead by example and boost morale.

"Prepare to meet the enemy!"

"Raise your shields!"

Whoosh—

Countless shields were
raised.

"Spear formation!"

"Archers, ready!"

"Quick, quick, quick!"

Creak—

The sound of bowstrings being drawn echoed uniformly from the battlements, all the arrows were coated with oil, then lit on fire, burning brightly.

"Fire!"

Following Lord Tarly's command.

Countless flaming arrows, trailing black smoke, flew into the sky, forming a sea of fire, then fell down together.

"Burn them!"

Chapter 333: The Great Battle of Humans and Wights

At the distant Wall, the end of the world, the great battle between humans and the White Walkers truly began.

The humans had assembled the most powerful army in the history of the continent—

"Knights of the Vale!"

"Hear my command!"

Leading the Knights of the Vale was Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone. Tall and mounted on a robust warhorse, his face was lined with wrinkles as he shouted his orders.

He wore his ancestral bronze armor, one hand holding the reins as his horse paced restlessly, its large nostrils puffing out white mist.

"All men! Prepare to charge!"

Lord Royce's voice thundered like a storm, his gaze fixed on the approaching army of the dead. Finally, he drew his sword from his waist, pointing it towards the sky.

"Kill!"

"Kill all these wretches!"

Boom—

The Knights of the Vale charged with great momentum, their heavy hooves trampling the thick snow, their breaths puffing out white mist.

Beneath their armor, the faces of the Vale knights showed no fear. Their eyes were resolute, their lances raised, forming a grand torrent of steel, charging towards the army of the dead.

Unstoppable.

On the other side.

The Dornishmen were few in number, but they did not retreat in the face of the overwhelming White Walkers.

Answering King Robert's call in place of Prince Doran was the prince's right-hand man, and the foster father of Quentyn Martell, Lord Anders Yronwood of Yronwood, known in Dorne as the 'Bloodroyal', the 'Warden of the Stone Way'.

"Dorne!"

Anders, like the other Dornishmen, was extremely unaccustomed to the harsh weather of the North. He was wrapped in thick clothing, then drew his sword and shouted.

"Charge!"

All the Dornish soldiers in their sandy-colored uniforms responded in unison, raising their spears in preparation to meet the enemy.

"Roar—"

The endless wights let out a sharp scream, crashing into the spear formation of the Dornishmen.

Splat, splat, splat—

The foul-smelling, rotten blood sprayed out, and in an instant, the sound of metal piercing flesh was everywhere. Like skewering candied haws, one after another came forward, showing no fear whatsoever.

The wights let out a mad howl, pushing against the spear formation to bite these delicious-smelling humans.

"Hold on!"

The Dornish formation instantly bore a great pressure.

However, fortunately, the allied army of humans, even if they would scheme against each other, would not let Dorne bear the pressure alone in such a critical moment on the battlefield.

In an instant, the commands of the commanders on the battlefield echoed everywhere.

"Westermen!"

Lord Lefford roared.

"Hear my command!"

...

"Stormlands!"

...

"Riverlands!"

...

"Men of the North!"

"Charge with me!"

...

"Kill!!!"

The shouts on the battlefield were like thunder, and the two sides began to engage in close combat.

Although the human army had suffered a great psychological and physical pressure in a short time, they were still full of momentum.

Even under heavy pressure, they burst out with astonishing resistance, temporarily pushing back hundreds of thousands of the army of the dead.

Tens of thousands from both sides were running, crowding, and fighting on this piece of land, even the stones on the ground were trembling slightly.

On the city wall of the human allied army.

Whoosh—

The colorful flags representing the various families of the Seven Kingdoms fluttered in the
ferocious snowstorm, standing tall and unyielding.

The appearance of the Night King seemed to affect the surrounding weather, the snowstorm became more violent, and it was almost impossible to see anything a little further away with the naked eye.

Strangely, behind the Wall and the allied army, it was calm, as if the Wall had blocked the existence of the snowstorm.

This huge and magnificent Wall stood on the earth, always silently protecting all humans.

Humans had assembled the most powerful army in history, while the White Walkers had been waiting for thousands of years. They were waiting for an opportunity, waiting for the resurgence of the magical tide to reach its peak.

They are the natural enemies of all humans, they have no pain, no fear.

Because they are the dead themselves, they bite and fight by instinct, some even retain some skills from their lives, can skillfully use weapons, and the number of wights can even increase as the fight goes on.

The North once had an ancient rumor that the White Walkers were actually created by the Children of the Forest to deal with humans who recklessly cut down weirwood trees.

But later, the power of the White Walkers became stronger and stronger, gradually getting out of the control of the Children of the Forest, and instead became the number one enemy of humans and the Children of the Forest.

The First Men and the Children of the Forest signed a pact to jointly resist the invasion of the White Walkers, driving them to the Land of Always Winter in the far north.

But this is just a rumor, whether it is credible or not, no one knows.

Viserys once mentioned this rumor, and others didn't know where he heard it from, but Melisandre denied this rumor.

She believes that the White Walkers are the servants of the ancient Other Gods, and the ancient Other Gods, representing cold, darkness, and death, are the eternal enemies of the Lord of Light, R'hllor.

"You're doing well, lads!"

Commanding the Riverlands soldiers, Randyll Tarly stood on the city wall, his body covered in blood. He took a deep breath, then spoke loudly.

"The enemy is just a bunch of mindless dead! Fools! We could kill them when they were alive, and we can kill them again now that they're dead!"

The seasoned commander of the Riverlands was very good at directing combat, mobilizing the soldiers' fighting spirit, and boosting morale.

The wights in the army of the dead were not unfamiliar to the allied army composed of soldiers from the Seven Kingdoms.

Although they were dead, most of them were still wearing their clothes from when they were alive. The tattered clothes and equipment still vaguely showed the shadow of the wildlings.

The reason why the army of the dead had so many numbers was largely contributed by the wildlings.

The lands beyond the Wall were vast, home to hundreds of tribes. Even Mance Rayder had not unified all the wildling tribes.

Among them, there were still many tribes that were unwilling to obey his orders, and did not follow Mance Rayder to attack the Wall.

And these people who did not leave their homes became fresh blood for the army of the dead when the White Walkers came south. They all became fresh wights, causing trouble for humans.

'Once King Robert had a chance to reconcile with the wildlings, to unite all humans to fight against the White Walkers, but he missed it...'

The Riverlands commander spoke to boost the soldiers' morale, and when he thought of the identities of these people in life, he couldn't help but be distracted for a second.

He didn't know if King Robert would regret it, there was indeed a better solution at that time.

Even after capturing that King-Beyond-the-Wall...

But King Robert burned him alive.

Just as Randyll Tarly was momentarily distracted, a sudden change occurred on the battlefield.

Chapter 334:   Chapter 334: The Nightmare Descends

After the human alliance's brief display of unyielding will, repelling the onslaught of the army of the dead, their momentum inevitably waned. After all, humans are complex creatures, not easily defined by simple terms.

At first, they were filled with fervor, feeling as if they bore the weight of honor, duty, and faith. They fought for their countries, wives, and children behind them, for those who could not fight, for the faith of the Seven Gods, to uphold the light of the gods and dispel the darkness.

But reality is harsh. When the initial surge of adrenaline was gradually washed away by the flow of fresh blood, what followed was a painful awakening.

The soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms' alliance gripped their spear shafts and sword hilts, their palms sweating. Their breathing became heavy, and their hearts raced.

They watched as the ghastly White Walkers, teeth bared, lunged at them. Even the gaps between their teeth held remnants of their comrades' hair and flesh.

Inevitably, emotional breakdowns occurred.

"Ah—"

Some soldiers, unable to bear the psychological pressure, suddenly broke down, screaming in terror as they threw down their weapons and fled.

However, the Seven Kingdoms' excellent commanders were all gathered here, and they had naturally anticipated such a situation.

Fully armed enforcers stepped forward, armed to the teeth. They wielded their swords and cut down those who threw down their weapons and tried to desert.

"Deserters on the front line, die!"

Count Anders Yronwood, wielding a blood-stained sword, roared with a fierce momentum.

"There are no cowards among the sons of Dorne!"

However, at this moment.

In the distance.

The Night King, crowned with a frozen crown, rode on an ordinary skeletal horse.

Other White Walkers under his command rode on ice spiders, dead direwolves, and polar bears.

Some even rode on half-rotted mammoths, charging towards the human army with heavy steps.

However, only he and a few White Walkers rode ordinary skeletal horses.

Perhaps he had not yet found a suitable mount.

The Night King's eyes burned with icy blue flames as he surveyed the entire battlefield, his gaze calm.

The flames in his eye sockets flickered gently, showing no signs of disturbance.

"Ha—"

Then, he uttered an obscure language from his mouth.

Clang—

Then, he drew a transparent sword from his waist, like crystal, reflecting a rainbow of light in the snowstorm.

The icy long sword pierced through the raging snowstorm, pointing towards the distance. His mouth once again emitted a piercing sound, like ice cracking.

"Roar!"

At the Night King's command.

The army of the dead once again let out a deafening roar.

"Roar, roar, roar!"

Then, they let out sharp screams, rushing even more fearlessly towards the human soldiers, wanting to tear all living beings in front of them to shreds.

"Not good."

"Hold on!"

The pressure on the alliance's front line suddenly became even greater. The wights rushed up desperately, and human soldiers and wights were squeezed together.

Crack, crack, crack—

Spears were snapped by the swarming wights, bitten off by their teeth.

Even the swords at their waists could not be drawn before they were knocked to the ground. For a moment, there seemed to be signs of the front line collapsing.

"Hold on!"

"Hold on!"

"All of you! No retreat!"

The commanders of the human alliance also began to shout loudly.

They shouted desperately, hoping to encourage the soldiers' fighting spirit.

They absolutely could not retreat at this moment,
or it would be a catastrophe.

"No retreat!"

"Retreaters, die!"

Anders Yronwood, the noble of Dornish blood, still led the enforcers with his sword, cutting down deserters.

He ordered them to face the enemy, not to abandon their comrades and run.

Thud—

The sturdy Dornish noble once again killed a deserter from Dorne.

Although they were all Dornish and had come to the end of the world, Anders did not hesitate to kill.

Because he knew that at this critical moment, if he was soft and did not deter the soldiers, a disastrous avalanche might occur.

By then, if the line collapsed, even he could only mount his horse and flee.

Huff~

Huff~

Anders' chest rose and fell, he was slightly panting, and cold sweat slid down his forehead.

"Can we win?"

He was momentarily distracted.

At that moment.

Slap—

He suddenly felt a tickle at his ankle, as if something had grabbed his boot.

"Hmm?"

The Dornish noble, holding his blood-stained sword, looked down and saw the first deserter he had killed.

He was already dead.

His body was even covered in a thick layer of snow in the blizzard, disappearing from sight.

However, he didn't expect that at this moment, his corpse, with a face full of congealed blood, would crawl out of the snow.

His eyes had turned a deep blue at some point, his mouth was dripping with blood, and he was making meaningless howls.

One hand tightly gripped his ankle, and his body moved forward a bit, letting out a sharp scream.

Then he raised the dagger he had held in his hand before he died and stabbed it fiercely into Count Yronwood's boot.

"Damn it!"

Anders Yronwood's face changed drastically, and he instantly realized that something was terribly wrong!

Then, intense pain swept over him, making him unable to help but wail.

"Ah—"

Blood stained the white snow.

...

"Tell Lord Jon Umber to lead the reserve team to reinforce the Dornish!"

The man with dark brown hair, his face serious, surveyed the battlefield before him.

Then he turned to the messenger beside him.

Something seemed to have happened on the Dornish front line, he thought he saw Lord Anders Yronwood fall.

Then Eddard quickly asked Jon Umber, the Count of Last Hearth, who was prepared to reinforce from the rear, to step forward.

Although the alliance of the Seven Kingdoms was supporting the North under the king's coordination, the most anxious about the invasion of the White Walkers were the Northerners.

Excluding the North, the alliance had a total of 60,000 men, while the North alone contributed 30,000 men, almost all out.

All the nobles sent all the soldiers in their territories without hesitation, and they also had to constantly forcibly conscript strong men.

Because this was a matter of life and death for the North.

"Yes, my lord!"

The messenger, hearing Eddard Stark's command, naturally knew the urgency of the situation and hurriedly ran down to relay the order.

However, not only on the Dornish front line, but also on other front lines, there were more or less disturbances.

"What..."

"What on earth is happening?"

Eddard Stark frowned.

He suddenly felt a sense of unease in his heart, and then he hurriedly mobilized soldiers to continue filling the gaps.

Chapter 335: The Killing Fields

This was the rear of the allied forces' line.

King Robert and Duke Eddard, who had personally scouted the enemy situation on the Wall of Despair not long ago, had already descended from the wall using cranes and were now in the rear, personally directing the battle.

This time, Robert did not charge into battle with his warhammer. Perhaps the Night King's earlier display had frightened him.

However, this was not because Robert was a coward.

After all, he was still human, while the Night King was a being that transcended mortals. Perhaps he had not yet reached the level of a god, but he was probably not far off.

Even Viserys' current strength would find it difficult to challenge the Night King one-on-one.

Of course.

If Baelorion was included, it would be a different story. After all, Viserys didn't mind having a true man's battle with the enemy, with the help of his three dragons.

However, the situation at hand was precarious for the allied forces after the Night King's move.

From the position where Robert and Eddard stood, overlooking the battlefield, not just Dorne, but the human alliance lines bearing various family banners began to waver.

Even the troops commanded by Randyll Tarly, the commander of the Riverlands, began to retreat.

The line of the human alliance was rapidly disintegrating.

"What on earth is happening?"

Eddard Stark's brow furrowed, his palm gripping the wooden railing so tightly that his fingernails were slightly white.

His eyes pierced through the white snow, trying hard to find a flaw in the wights.

Then his gaze fell on a fallen soldier of the alliance who had staggered back to his feet.

Caught off guard, he pounced directly onto his comrade who had been fighting side by side with him just a moment ago.

"What..."

Eddard instantly understood what had happened, his face suddenly turning extremely grim.

"How is this possible?"

He remembered that the resurrection of the wights was not this fast. How could this be?

"Your Majesty, Lord Stark, something terrible has happened!"

At this moment.

A panting guard ran up from the stairs below, shouting loudly.

However, there was no need for the guard to report. The Duke of Winterfell already knew everything.

...

For the soldiers on the front line who were fighting fiercely with the wights.

The sudden resurrection of their fallen comrades into fresh wights...

Nothing could be more damaging to morale.

First, there was the psychological pressure of having to attack former comrades.

Second, there was the fear of becoming such a disgusting monster after death.

The morale of the alliance was instantly hit hard, the line began to retreat, showing signs of collapse.

"Do not retreat, hold the line!"

The commanders shouted desperately, but at this point, they could not save the gradually deteriorating situation.

Even some were caught off guard and pulled off their horses by a corpse that suddenly rose from the ground. The wight's mouth dripped with fresh blood as it opened wide and bit down hard on the commander's cheek, followed by a piercing scream from the rear of the battlefield.

"Kill!"

Randyll Tarly, holding his blood-stained ancestral Valyrian steel sword 'Heartsbane', charged into the front line, letting out a thunderous roar.

Crack—

With one swing, he split a wight that had pounced on him into two, as if he had shattered a rotten wooden box.

The wight he had split in two instantly died.

Valyrian steel was the weakness of the wights, and dealing with them was naturally not a problem.

At this moment, Randyll Tarly
was drenched in blood, even the gaps in his armor were soaked with blood, making it exceptionally sticky.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

The man was panting heavily, having personally slain dozens of wights on the battlefield.

However, these monsters seemed endless, continuously rushing forward. Even he was beginning to feel the strain, his chest heaving, his breath growing heavy.

Crack—

He swung Heartsbane once more, turning to cleave a wight that had lunged at him from behind.

"Roar—"

But at the same time, another wight pounced on him from behind, wrapping its arms around Randyll Tarly's body and biting towards his ear.

The man's helmet had been knocked off in the fierce battle, his bald head smeared with blood from an unknown source, and his face splattered with fresh blood.

Suddenly, a wight tightly embraced him from behind, and a sharp pain shot through his ear, reaching his brain.

The intense pain brought a moment of clarity to his mind, and hot blood flowed down his cheek.

"Ah—"

The renowned general of the Riverlands let out a muffled roar, his facial muscles trembling slightly.

"Get off!"

He forcefully broke free from the wight's grip, gritting his teeth so hard they were almost crushed.

Enduring the intense pain, he turned around and split the wight that had bitten off his ear into two.

Blood stained half of his face, even seeping into his eye, causing a stinging sensation.

Randyll Tarly's face was covered in blood, one eye tightly shut, giving him a somewhat ferocious appearance.

"Lord Tarly!"

"We can't hold on any longer! Please retreat!"

The guards standing beside Randyll Tarly were dwindling.

With his remaining arm, one of them grabbed his lord's arm, his face covered in blood, his voice hoarse as he shouted.

Randyll Tarly, in an attempt to boost morale, had led his guards into the front line. Now, those who had followed him into battle were slowly falling, one by one.

The smoke and snow around them were thick, the soldiers of the Riverlands were falling continuously, being pounced on and savagely bitten by the wights, their screams of agony filling the air.

"Lord, we don't have much time, we must retreat!"

The loyal guard was still shouting hoarsely.

"Retreat..."

But Randyll Tarly, panting heavily, gripping the hilt of his blood-soaked sword, was momentarily lost.

Even though he knew the situation was dire, behind the alliance were the common people of the Seven Kingdoms...

However, just as Randyll Tarly was hesitating, a wight that had come out of nowhere let out a strange cry, pouncing directly onto the guard who only had one arm left, and bit down hard on his neck.

Spurt—

Blood sprayed out instantly, splattering onto Lord Tarly's face.

Randyll Tarly, holding his Valyrian steel sword, shivered slightly, his mind becoming much clearer.

"Gibson!"

Randyll Tarly came back to his senses just in time to see his last guard being pounced on and bitten by a wight.

Suddenly, his eyes turned blood red, and he let out a roar of despair.

"Ah—"

Then, he raised his sword high and swung it down fiercely.

Chapter 336: The Defeat of the Allied Forces

The alliance of humans had been defeated in the face of the onslaught of the White Walkers.

The moment the Night King drew his sword of ice, countless brave warriors who had fallen in battle rose again, joining the ranks of the undead army. The outcome was already sealed.

Sometimes, human strength can seem infinite, but at other times, it can feel incredibly insignificant.

Faced with an irresistible force, even the most determined efforts cannot prevent the collapse of a great edifice.

The line of the allied forces began to crumble, gradually fragmenting, then like an avalanche, it spread to the other troops still holding out, ultimately leading to a total rout.

"Run!"

"Run quickly!"

Some were the first to throw down their weapons and flee, with others following suit.

The supervising officers could not stop so many soldiers from fleeing. They were instantly scattered, even trampled underfoot and crushed to death.

People panicked and fled towards the rear. Some nobles of the Seven Kingdoms ran even faster than the soldiers.

They had noticed early on that something was wrong, then climbed onto their warhorses, abandoning their troops and fleeing alone.

The commanders who still wanted to resist could not change the current situation, no matter how much they shouted.

"It's too dangerous here!"

"Lord Tarly! You must leave first!"

Randyll Tarly, who had lost half an ear and whose cheek was covered in fresh blood, was helped onto a warhorse by his soldiers.

The elite soldiers of Horn Hill were the best performing troops in the entire war. They were tenacious and resisted fiercely.

Like a rock in the sea, they stood at the forefront of the line, allowing waves from all directions to crash against them, attracting a large number of undead attacks.

However, even such elite troops could not hold out alone and faced collapse.

The snowstorm on the battlefield grew stronger, making it hard for people to open their eyes. The defeat of the human alliance was an unchangeable fact, and even if reinforcements arrived at this time, they could not change the situation.

"Lord Stannis!"

As one of the highest-ranking individuals in this war, Stannis had been on the battlefield all along, and now he too was helped onto a warhorse to retreat first.

The man with sparse hair sat upright on his horse, his body covered in blood. His black cloak was torn and tattered, and the sword at his waist was chipped.

Stannis turned his head for a last look at the sparse soldiers of Dragonstone, while around him, soldiers were fleeing in all directions.

The situation was now uncontrollable and irretrievable.

Even though Stannis was unwilling, he had to flee with the soldiers.

Then he took a deep breath, held the reins with one hand, and squeezed the horse's belly with his legs.

"Go!"

Then Stannis, leading a few of his guards, rode away from the battlefield on swift horses.

...

"Run!"

"Run quickly!"

On the ground, everyone was fleeing. The situation was completely one-sided.

The undead were chasing, and the humans were running.

Whoosh—

In the sky above.

A black crow flapped its wings, braving the wild snowstorm, and quickly flew over the battlefield.

As the crow flew against the wind and snow, it tilted its small black head, its crimson eyes seemingly overlooking the battlefield below.

Humans had been defeated.

It saw everything.

"Help!"

"Save me!"

In the white snowstorm, countless fleeing soldiers cried out for help.

It was like a human purgatory.

The complete collapse of the front line was a disaster like a rolling snowball. Those who ran at the back were essentially waiting to die

. If the people in front ran slowly, those behind, no matter how anxious, could not escape.

At the same time, countless people accidentally fell, and no one bent down to help them. They were trampled underfoot, never to rise again, literally trampled into a pulp.

Now that the allied forces were in full retreat, everyone was in a state of panic. Everyone wanted to survive, knowing that the undead were chasing them from behind.

If they stopped to help their comrades, wouldn't that delay their own escape?

This race was not against time, but against their own kind, and the price of failure was death.

The crow saw the defeat of the human alliance, but its crimson eyes were calm, without disappointment or joy.

After all, it was just a crow, devoid of human emotions.

On the ground below.

The crow swiftly flew across the sky, flapping its wings. The ground was filled with chaos and noise, all humans were running, and the dark side of human nature was fully exposed at this moment.

Some people killed their comrades who were blocking their way in order to escape, while others stabbed others in the thigh, using them as bait to slow down the advance of the undead.

In such a chaotic situation, who had the time to look at the sky? The undead, lacking brains, naturally wouldn't care about their surroundings.

But on the outskirts of the battlefield, the Night King, riding his skeletal horse, watched the battlefield with flames burning in his hollow eye sockets.

He calmly observed the battlefield in front of him. The defeat of the alliance did not change his expression at all. In his view, all of this was as it should be.

At that moment.

As the crow, flapping its wings, flew over the battlefield, the Night King, as if sensing something, suddenly looked up.

His flaming eyes stared intently at the black crow.

For the first time, his expression changed noticeably, like anger, like disgust, or perhaps both.

He then let out a shrieking cry.

The crow, as if sensing the impending disaster, hurriedly flapped its wings to gain altitude, flying towards a higher place.

But it was too late.

An icicle, formed from the Night King's hand, was thrown, flying straight into the sky, making a sharp noise as it rapidly enlarged in the crow's eyes.

Whoosh~

Just before the icicle hit the crow, a strong spiritual body abruptly left its body.

The crow returned to normal for a second, then its head was shattered by the incoming icicle.

Crack—

Its small head turned into a cloud of blood in the air, then its body plunged to the ground.

The Night King, still riding his skeletal horse, hadn't moved an inch from start to finish.

But this time, he looked intently at the crow's body on the ground, his face somewhat stern.

At the same time.

A huge fire suddenly broke out on the distant battlefield.

This was the last resort of the human alliance. If they were defeated, they would set fire to cover their retreat.

Afterwards.

The human alliance, after being defeated at the Wall, fled all the way to Winterfell, leaving a vast expanse of land to the army of the dead.

The White Walkers seemed in no hurry to continue their pursuit.

Instead, after occupying the Wall, they began to gather their forces, searching the land beyond the Wall.

It seemed that something else had attracted the attention of the White Walkers.

Chapter 337: The Capital of Valyria

In the distant, desolate Wall, the second great battle between humans and the White Walkers had finally come to an end.

Perhaps due to the initial victory, where he personally slew a White Walker, King Robert Baratheon had become somewhat inflated with pride.

He arrogantly sought to halt the Night King's advance at the Wall, aiming to completely crush the army of the dead.

However, what he received in return was a crushing defeat.

The allied forces retreated in disarray to Winterfell. The chilling wind of death swept over the Wall, enveloping the lands of the North.

Winter seemed to have become even colder.

...

Meanwhile, in the distant Valyria, the temperature was also dropping sharply after a heavy rain.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

A red-haired girl was hiding in a pitch-black cellar, her full chest rising and falling gently as she panted heavily.

In the silent cellar, only the girl's breathing could be clearly heard.

"Damn it——"

She bit her teeth lightly, her body covered in blood, unsure if it was her own or splattered from others.

Ever since she entered the ruins of the Valyrian capital, a series of terrifying events had almost caused her to mentally collapse.

Many things had happened in the past few days, leading to a rapid deterioration of the situation. The exploration team had completely disintegrated.

The commander of the exploration team, Vilder Megaya, the nephew of the ruling Valyrian Tiger Party, was killed by a shadow that descended from the sky after entering the capital.

The enemy was extremely fast, even faster than the werewolves they had encountered before, directly leaping down from the ruins of the city wall and taking him away.

By the time Vilder's followers chased after him, only half of Commander Vilder's body was left on the ground.

The commander was dead.

The exploration team, which was already few in number, was on the verge of collapse.

Because this was far from the beginning of the nightmare.

The ignorant and fearless people, in their quest for profit, sought to explore the secrets of the gods, and in the end, they encountered a terrible punishment.

It was only now that people understood why so few of those who had explored the ruins of Valyria had been able to come out alive.

Plague, curses, monster attacks...

Dangers came like raindrops, and only a few could dodge them all.

Back when they were crossing the Smoking Sea, all those who were affected were still unaware of what they had done.

But a few days after arriving at the ruins of Valyria, these people began to develop diseases one after another.

At first, the commander thought it was a plague, caused by the drizzling rain, or perhaps the island's water source or fruits were problematic.

However, after he had killed all the people suspected of having the plague and burned their bodies clean, the nightmare continued.

People kept falling during the march, and then they never got up again. Their bodies showed marble-like patterns, and blood flowed from their seven orifices.

At first, Viserys, Mia, and 'Iron Fist' Gus and a group of survivors did not notice what the reason was.

But as more and more people died, they woke up and realized that those who had absorbed the grey fog were starting to get sick.

However, faced with such a serious situation, the commander of the exploration team, Vilder, still refused to give up.

He recklessly ordered the team to continue forward.

His uncle had entrusted him with such an important task, and he had paid such a high price to get to Valyria. No matter what, Vilder was unwilling to give up at
this time.

Subsequently, the team, which was now reduced to a few hundred people, arrived at the turbulent red river outside the Valyrian capital.

Viserys didn't know what color the river originally was, but now it was as bright as blood and emitted an unbearable stench.

There should have been a magnificent bridge here, but now only two bridge piers remained after the apocalyptic disaster.

The exploration team, of course, didn't have the ability to repair the bridge. Instead, they began to cut down trees to build small boats, using the ropes they carried to ferry people across one by one.

However, on the river, the exploration team once again encountered attacks from some monsters in the water. After paying a very heavy price, they finally crossed the river.

In fact, after so many hardships, many people in the team had already given up.

But under the current circumstances, even if they were scared, they dared not leave the team and run away. Otherwise, in Valyria, which was full of monsters, they would probably end up in the belly of a monster as soon as they left the team.

Then, the exploration team, which was now reduced to a handful of people, finally entered the ruins of the Valyrian capital.

This once magnificent capital was now only left with ruins, covered with wildly growing weeds. The city gate had long disappeared, leaving only half of the city wall that had not collapsed.

And it was at this time.

Just as the team cautiously entered the ruins, a shadow jumped down from the half of the city wall and unexpectedly snatched away the commander who was walking at the end, gnawing off half of his body.

After the commander's death, the team officially broke out in internal strife. Some people wanted to leave, while others thought that since they had come to the depths of the Valyrian ruins after so much hardship, how could they return empty-handed?

Then, a conflict broke out between the two sides.

And Viserys naturally stood on the latter side.

He hadn't figured out the secret of the black fog yet, how could he leave so easily?

Mia also had reasons to continue exploring. Gus, who had once shared a boat with them, and a few mercenaries hesitated for a moment and then firmly stood on Viserys's side.

Because they seemed to have noticed that following this silver-haired young man seemed to avoid many dangers.

However, before these people could argue out a result, monsters launched another attack on the exploration team. This time, without a unified command, people began to scatter and flee.

At first, Viserys and a few others stuck together, but eventually, after one attack, those few mercenaries died, and Mia lost contact with Viserys.

She killed a monster alone, suffered serious injuries, and then hid in a cellar under the city's outer waste.

"I'm afraid... I can't escape."

In the darkness.

Mia was leaning against the wall of the cellar alone, thinking silently to herself, while also using the cloth torn from her body to bandage her wounds.

"Hiss——"

"Damn!"

When her finger touched the wound and the pain came, the red-haired girl bit her teeth slightly and cursed.

However, she didn't notice that in the darkness, there were also a pair of eyes staring at her intently.

Its breathing gradually became heavy, and saliva dripped down.

But the red-haired girl was completely unaware of this, still biting her teeth and trying hard to bandage her wounds.

Chapter 338: A Life-Saving Favor

At that moment, the monster lurking in the shadows could no longer hold back.

"Roar—"

A dark figure let out a roar, suddenly leaping out of the darkness, charging directly at Mia, who was completely unprepared.

Mia was currently bandaging her wounds, but her reaction was swift.

Ever since she entered the ruins of Valyria and encountered a series of monster attacks, she had developed a passive alertness, shivering at the slightest noise.

Now, when the humanoid monster, its body entirely black, lunged at her, she instantly reacted, almost instinctively rolling to the side.

She dodged the monster's deadliest attack.

Boom—

The monster's body slammed hard against the cellar wall, causing a loud noise and dust to fall from above.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

After Mia rolled to the side, she tightly gripped her dagger. The wounds on her body were pulled, causing intense pain that made her face tighten and her breathing become more rapid.

Under the faint light seeping through the cellar's cracks, Mia saw the monster clearly.

This monster had black fur, completely different from the werewolves she had seen before.

It could walk upright, had strong limbs, wore tattered cloth, and could even use simple weapons.

It looked like... a human, just with a simple mind incapable of communication.

"Damn monster."

The girl bit her teeth slightly and then lunged at the monster.

Mia was not a delicate princess. As a mercenary, she had killed many people, and she understood that begging for mercy from such a monster was useless.

Either the monster dies, or she dies.

The monster, with its mouth wide open and saliva continuously dripping, its sharp teeth reflecting a faint light, let out an unintelligible growl from its throat, then stood up and charged at Mia.

Mia's movements were sharp and well-prepared. The greatest advantage humans have over monsters is their brains. She predicted the direction of the monster's charge in advance, narrowly dodging it, and fiercely stabbed her dagger into the monster's mouth.

Plop—

The clear sound of piercing flesh.

"I hit it!"

A hint of joy flashed in the red-haired girl's eyes, but this joy didn't last half a second.

After being injured, the monster was not restricted in its actions, but rather, its inner ferocity was further stimulated.

Its mouth was injured, a dagger piercing its lower jaw, and it let out a painful roar. It raised its sharp claws and directly scratched at the girl in front of it.

Mia's reaction was already fast, but at such a close distance, it was hard to dodge the next attack after dodging the first.

The monster's claws tore her clothes and opened a long wound on her abdomen, with blood and flesh rolling out.

The clash between the human and the beast was extremely brief, resulting in a situation where both were injured in an instant.

However, although the monster was also seriously injured, its condition was clearly much better than Mia's.

The girl was severely injured in the abdomen, was slapped and thrown out, falling hard on the ground. She could only watch as the monster pulled out the dagger stuck in its jaw, let out an angry and painful roar, and then slowly approached her.

"Am I going to die..."

Mia was panting heavily, the intense pain from her abdominal injury made her face pale, and due to excessive blood loss, her vision was even somewhat blurred.

She tried to drag her body back with her hands.

If possible, she didn't want to be buried in the mouth of such a disgusting monster...

Even if someone could end her life for her.

Such a thought involuntarily
appeared in the girl's mind.

However, at this moment, the entrance to the cellar above her head was suddenly lifted.

Crack—

Accustomed to the darkness, the light from above seemed particularly intense.

The girl's consciousness was blurred, and she seemed to see a figure descending from the sky, landing directly on the monster's back, and the long sword in his hand fiercely pierced through the back of its neck.

"Die."

The newcomer killed the monster with a single sword. Mia's pale face finally relaxed a bit, revealing a faint smile, and then she passed out.

Swish—

Viserys pulled his long sword out of the monster's neck, blood spurted out, and the lifeless body fell down.

A black mist followed the blade into Viserys's palm.

This was a discovery Viserys made only after entering the capital of Valyria. The monsters here would release a large amount of black fog from their bodies after being killed.

This black fog far exceeded what Viserys had absorbed outside, and this discovery excited him greatly.

Because he came to uncover the secret of the black fog, but since he arrived at the ruins of Valyria, he had not noticed any answers related to the black fog.

It was not until he entered the core area of the ruins, the former Freehold's capital, Valyria, that he made a breakthrough discovery.

There were traces of black fog contamination everywhere. Others might not see it, but in Viserys's eyes, everything was exposed.

"The capital of the Freehold was once deeply shrouded in this black fog."

This discovery forced him to come to such a conclusion.

"Why?"

However, hundreds of years have passed, and no one knows what happened before the destruction of Valyria.

Those who were in the city at the time are all dead, or have been transformed into some kind of monster. No one knows how they angered the gods and why such a terrifying punishment was inflicted.

But he took the first step towards uncovering the secret.

"Mia."

When Viserys killed the monster, he turned his head and found that the girl had passed out.

He quickly walked over.

The girl had four deep wounds on her abdomen, the deepest of which could even see her internal organs, and she was bleeding heavily. In just a short time, the ground beneath her was dyed red.

"Damn."

"Her injuries are too severe."

Seeing Mia's injuries, Viserys's heart sank slightly.

He could tell that such injuries were almost incurable, and it wouldn't take long for this girl to die.

"No."

However, Viserys frowned, clenching his fist.

Although they hadn't known each other for long, they had shared such hardships, and their relationship was quite good.

Viserys couldn't just watch this poor girl die.

"There's one more way."

The silver-haired young man thought for a moment, and now he couldn't care less about hiding his identity.

He then threw his long sword to the side, and placed his palm on her forehead.

The black fog he had just absorbed was continuously poured into Mia's body.

Chapter 339: Awakening

An indeterminate amount of time passed.

The cellar remained pitch black, and the red-haired girl lay quietly on the ground. Her cracked lips trembled slightly before she subconsciously whispered a request for water.

Viserys, who seemed to be asleep against the wall with his sword in his arms, woke up instantly.

He brought out his water flask and held it to Mia's parched lips. Like a drought receiving rain, she greedily drank as the water flowed in, her throat moving instinctively to take in more.

Her long eyelashes trembled slightly, and she slowly woke up, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"Am I... dead?"

"Is this hell?"

Although Mia didn't have any particular faith, most religions had a relatively unified description of the world of the dead.

It was a place of filth and harsh conditions, where various demons roamed. It was somewhat similar to the current state of Valyria.

However, the girl soon felt the intense pain from her wounds, and her face turned slightly pale.

Viserys, sitting next to her, heard her words and was about to make a joke, but the words died in his throat.

He saw that the girl's once bright eyes were now hazy and lifeless, as if covered by a deep shadow.

"I thought I was really dead."

The girl's voice was hoarse and weak. She saw Viserys.

She knew that he had somehow saved her, not that he had died too, and they had both ended up in this underworld.

She knew that this guy was hiding a big secret.

Their statuses were worlds apart.

He was someone who would never die.

"I'm sorry."

The girl's voice made the joy in Viserys's heart fade a lot, and he sighed.

He had used the black fog to save Mia's life, but it also meant that she would probably never escape his shadow in her lifetime. With the black fog as a link, she could never get away.

Originally, Viserys didn't plan to have too much interaction with Mia. Their statuses were indeed very different, so he always kept a certain distance, planning to quietly leave after this exploration.

However, he didn't expect so many accidents to happen on this journey...

The cellar fell into a brief silence, and then the girl, whose injuries had not fully recovered, spoke again.

"I can feel 'it'."

This sentence made Viserys slightly raise his head. He knew that she was referring to the black fog he had injected into her.

"It seems to have repaired my body, making it even better than before."

"But the price is that I seem to be unable to leave you."

Mia's last sentence echoed in Viserys's heart.

It seemed that the girl was smarter than Bessie, and she had figured out the correct use of the black fog in a short time.

It had established a bridge of communication between the two.

"Can I know who you are now?"

"Emon."

Viserys remained silent after hearing her words, and only spoke after a long while.

He told Mia his real identity.

Because at this time, there was no point in hiding his identity from the girl.

"Viserys Targaryen?"

Although she had been mentally prepared, Mia was still slightly shocked when Viserys revealed his identity.

She had thought that Viserys might be a noble young master, with an ancient bloodline and a noble status, after all, he had silver hair.

But she never dared to imagine that the young man in front of her was the famous Targaryen Dragon King.

How could this be?

Wasn't he in distant Pentos?

"How can you..."

Mia's voice
was somewhat rushed, and why would someone of Viserys's noble status risk his life to explore the ruins of Valyria?

Even the ruling official of the Tiger Party, Marajo Megaya, dared not come, only sending his nephew.

The high-ranking nobles didn't dare to venture into this 'Land of Demons'.

"There's nothing impossible in this world, Mia," Viserys said calmly. To him, adventures were commonplace.

"Reality is more exciting than you can imagine."

A boy of eight venturing alone to Braavos, then growing up and leading two hundred guards to Pentos, knowing full well the other party had ill intentions.

They wanted to kidnap him and extort a dragon, but he had the idea of seizing the city.

If he hadn't been cautious, he wouldn't have lived to this day.

If he hadn't been audacious, he wouldn't have built such a foundation.

So many adventures that seemed like dancing on the edge of a knife to outsiders, Viserys had actually made ample preparations for.

Did he know that the Ragged Prince had ulterior motives?

Of course he knew, Jon Connington knew, and many others knew.

But Viserys didn't kill him because he still had value to use, and the Ragged Prince couldn't make any waves in his hands.

...

However, at this moment.

Boom—

A loud rumble suddenly came from outside.

"Run!"

Then came the sound of footsteps and human voices.

"Spare me, spare me..."

However, the pitiful pleas for mercy didn't last long before they were cut off.

Viserys and the girl in the cellar looked at each other, their faces changing slightly.

"This place isn't safe anymore."

"Let's go."

Viserys's face changed slightly, but he still spoke calmly. He quickly helped Mia up and carried her on his back.

Members of the exploration team had inadvertently led the monsters here while fleeing.

And the monsters living in Valyria had an extremely keen sense of smell. They had learned this the hard way.

When Wild's body was found, it didn't take long for a large group of humanoid black-haired monsters to swarm in. The exploration team suffered heavy casualties. It was also at that time that Viserys and Mia were separated.

Viserys was about to leave the cellar with Mia on his back when a low growl suddenly came from above.

"Roar—"

The monster's low growl was right above them, and Viserys's steps came to a sudden halt.

The silver-haired young man's eyes slightly narrowed. One hand held the girl on his back, and the other gripped the hilt of his sword.

The next second.

Boom—

The stone slabs of the cellar above their heads shattered.

A monster covered in black fur fell from the sky, screaming and pouncing straight at Viserys.

Viserys's reaction was quick. He easily dodged the monster's attack with the red-haired girl on his back.

However, there was more than one monster.

Several pairs of greedy crimson eyes appeared above the cellar, causing Viserys's heart to sink slightly.

Chapter 340: The Soldiers of Valyria

If it were just him alone dealing with these monsters, it wouldn't be difficult. But now, carrying the girl on his back, he was clearly hindered.

"Put me down, Viserys," Mia, who was being carried by Viserys, said weakly.

Viserys had already saved her life once, and she was grateful for that. She didn't want to involve Viserys because of her.

She knew very well how troublesome it was to flee in such a dangerous environment with a burden.

However, Viserys's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and without turning his head, he simply said in a low voice, "Shut up."

The monster facing Viserys could no longer bear it. Even though there was a strong sense of danger from him, it let out a roar and pounced.

The monsters in the ruins of Valyria seemed to be under a curse of gluttony. Every monster Viserys encountered looked as if it was starving.

Viserys, facing the dangerous situation, was very calm. He drew the long sword from his waist and narrowly dodged the monster as it was about to pounce.

Then, the long sword in his hand easily pierced the monster's neck.

Blood spurted out, black fog entered the body, and Viserys kicked the body away.

The other monsters also pounced together. Viserys tightly held Mia's arm, took a deep breath, and then the two of them turned into a cloud of black fog and disappeared on the spot.

"Roar—"

The several ferocious monsters that had pounced collided with each other, looking at the empty spot and letting out confused roars.

Viserys and Mia's figures, composed of black fog, reappeared outside the dilapidated house ruins.

The range of Valyria city is vast. Viserys and Mia only appeared in the outermost civilian area. Looking from here, there are more palace ruins in the depths of the city.

That's where the nobles of the Freehold lived.

The Valyrian Freehold was neither a kingdom nor an empire. All Valyrian people had a say in governance.

But in fact, only the ancient forty families of Valyria had the qualifications to compete for the rule of the Freehold.

The Targaryen family was one of the forty families of Valyria, but at that time, the strength of the Targaryen family was only minor within the Freehold.

Therefore, the Targaryen family also had a palace in Valyria city.

However, the data about that year was lost in the turmoil of King's Landing hundreds of years ago.

After so many years of historical changes, the information left on Dragonstone Island for Viserys to read is not much.

He is not sure about the location of the Targaryen family palace in the city now. If he can find the location of the family palace, Viserys would consider this trip worthwhile.

The girl on Viserys's back once again opened her mouth wide, her face full of disbelief.

"What is this?"

This time she truly felt the magical power.

When the black fog repaired her body and snatched her back from death, she didn't know because she had fainted.

But this time, Mia watched as Viserys and she turned into black fog.

Then, like flowing water, they freely flowed in the air, passed through the hole above the cellar, passed through the window, appeared in the alley outside the ruins, and then recondensed.

This feeling was truly amazing!

"Is this the magic you use to control dragons?"

The girl asked in a weak voice,
shocked.

Viserys turned his head to look at her, but didn't explain anything.

The ability to turn into black fog wasn't just about him turning into a cloud of black fog, but everything he touched within a certain range could also turn into black fog and wander in the air with him.

This is why his clothes and weapons were still intact after he turned into a cloud of black fog, otherwise, they would all be left behind.

However, at this moment, the roar of monsters came from behind. It seemed that they had picked up the scent of the two again and were chasing after them.

The silver-haired young man didn't hesitate, carrying the burden on his back, he turned and fled.

Several monsters chased at a fast pace, climbing over the ruins of the walls, and a human carrying another human disappeared in an instant.

...

The sky gradually darkened.

Night fell.

The dim moonlight pierced the fog and fell on the ancient and mysterious city ruins.

The surroundings were silent, and even the chirping of insects and birds couldn't be heard.

Viserys, carrying Mia, moved through the ruins of Valyria city. They had escaped the monsters' pursuits time and time again.

They also encountered other members of the expedition team, but the number of humans was getting fewer and fewer.

Then the two of them, in their panic, ended up deep in the city ruins.

They had reached the center of Valyria city.

They fled into the ruins of a grand palace. The monsters that were active on the outskirts of the city chased them here, but they seemed to dare not continue chasing.

They thought they could finally breathe a sigh of relief here, but the two of them made a new discovery.

"This is..."

Viserys, pulling the girl, hid in the shadows, looking at the scene not far away, his pupils involuntarily contracted.

"How is this possible?"

"Are they... alive?"

"No… no, they're already dead."

He saw a row of 'soldiers' covered in black fur.

Their faces were unclear, covered in black hair that obscured their noses and mouths, only a pair of crimson eyes were clearly visible.

They were wearing tattered armor and holding weapons, patrolling the interior of the palace in a disciplined manner, as if controlled by something, round and round, seemingly never tired.

And they were emitting a black fog that Viserys was very familiar with.

"These monsters... were they humans before?" Mia, who was also lying next to Viserys, asked in disbelief, her voice lowered.

Both of them had smeared a lot of monster blood on their bodies, temporarily suppressing the scent of living creatures on them, which played a bit of a concealment role.

This was the experience the two had gained from being constantly hunted. Now, Mia's injuries had healed a lot, she no longer needed Viserys to carry her all the time, she could walk independently.

"Obviously."

Viserys also lowered his voice, his eyebrows furrowed as he spoke.

Monsters wouldn't wear armor.

And Viserys had speculated before that these monsters might be the previous residents of Valyria or their descendants, affected by some curse or unimaginable change.

They eventually became these black-haired monsters that lost their sanity.

Chapter 341: A Stone?

It seemed that Viserys's initial speculation was not wrong. These were not monsters, but living beings, though perhaps they could no longer be called humans.

They had lost their sanity, completely controlled into ravenous monsters, devouring anyone who dared to uncover the mysteries of this lost civilization.

However, what concerned Viserys more at the moment was something else.

"These people are different from the black-haired monsters outside... they were likely soldiers of Valyria in their lifetime."

Viserys noticed the armor they wore. Although it was tattered, it was still more resilient to the ravages of time than ordinary clothes.

Black fog lingered around them, reminding Viserys of the black fog he had infused into Bessie and Mia.

Could it be that they were also infused with this black fog during their lifetime?

Who did this?

Their lord? Or the gods of Valyria?

Balerion, Meraxes, or Vhagar?

Or was it something else that Viserys didn't understand yet? He knew nothing about all of these.

But now Viserys was in trouble. The neatly arranged Valyrian soldiers were heading towards the place where he and Mia were hiding.

They were directly in the path of the patrol.

"Were they really... once human?"

"How did they become like this?"

Mia, lying next to Viserys, was clearly still in disbelief.

Because those black-haired monsters had completely lost their humanity, leaving only a desire for flesh and blood.

If these people were once soldiers of Valyria, then what about the monsters wandering around the outskirts of the city, the wolves that could walk upright, the fish that could run on land, the monsters in the blood-red river...

Could it be that they were all once animals?

The only surviving creatures on this lost continent were clearly divided, from animals to human rulers.

"If they were indeed soldiers of Valyria, they must have been controlled by something."

Facing the imminent danger, Viserys's voice remained calm. He glanced at the Valyrian soldiers coming in their direction, took a deep breath, and spoke in a low voice.

"There are two choices now."

"Mia."

Viserys turned his head to look at the girl next to him, and Mia also looked up at him with bright eyes, her gaze firm.

The rest, naturally, didn't need to be said.

The silver-haired youth nodded slightly.

"Alright, I understand."

With a snap, he suddenly grabbed the girl's shoulder, and in an instant, the two of them turned into a cloud of black fog and disappeared on the spot.

The next second, the monster guards who had patrolled to the place where Viserys and Mia had just landed paused slightly, a clear look of confusion on their faces, although it was not very clear under the black hair.

Then, like a machine, they paused for a while before continuing on their way, patrolling the palace in the same old way.

Not long after Viserys and Mia disappeared, they appeared in a side hall of the grand palace.

The architectural style of Valyria was somewhat special, it could be said to be a collection of styles from all over the world, incorporating the strengths of all the civilizations they had conquered, their buildings all appeared in this city.

Moreover, Valyria's stone carving technology was extremely advanced, which was one of the things that the Varys' Tiger Party hoped to obtain on this trip.

Even after experiencing a terrifying doomsday disaster and hundreds of years of time, many buildings in the Valyrian capital were still preserved.

Viserys and Mia explored the dimly lit side hall carefully with the faint moonlight outside.

Fortunately, there
were no monsters in this side hall, but they also didn't find anything valuable. Most of it was Valyrian-era artifacts, adorned with gems and gold, and the rest was mostly decayed.

These items, even a few pieces taken out casually, would be priceless treasures.

However, compared to money, Viserys was more interested in other things, and he couldn't carry so many things.

Then the two of them left the side hall and continued to explore along the corridor, passing through a garden that was already overgrown with weeds and in ruins.

Fortunately, there were no monster patrols here.

The two of them passed through the garden, following a path straight into a half-broken tower.

"This seems to be where the master of this palace used to rest."

The interior of the half-collapsed tower was luxuriously decorated, with decaying magnificent carpets and tattered silk.

The two of them explored carefully, but then encountered a black-haired monster squatting on the ceiling.

It was clearly different from those controlled Valyrian soldiers, rather similar to the monsters on the outskirts of the city.

It seemed that this black fog was very precious and not everyone was eligible to have it. Those Valyrian soldiers patrolling inside the palace were also the personal guards of a major family that once lived here.

Perhaps this family was stronger than the Targaryen family, after all, among the forty noble ancient families of Valyria, the Targaryens were always the 'underachievers'.

The monster let out a strange cry and then pounced. It seemed that she didn't expect a living creature to come here.

Although Viserys and Mia were caught off guard, they still successfully dealt with it.

Fortunately, the noise caused by the monster was not very loud and did not attract the attention of the patrolling soldiers outside.

The second floor of the broken tower had a spacious bedroom, and at the entrance of the foyer was a metal emblem that seemed to be a family crest.

It seemed to depict a person herding sheep, Valyria was originally a semi-nomadic tribe.

Although Viserys didn't recognize this pattern, it didn't prevent him from searching in this room.

The bookshelves in the room had decayed, and the books on them had become extremely fragile due to time.

Viserys carefully searched for potentially valuable books and then carefully collected them.

On the other side, Mia was also searching for something in the room.

The bedroom was spacious and elegantly decorated, the fireplace was cleaned, and apart from a lot of accumulated dust, there was nothing else. In the middle was a bed large enough for three people, but it had already collapsed.

"Hmm?"

At this moment, Mia noticed that there seemed to be a dark box under the collapsed bed.

"What is this?"

Then the girl went over and opened the box, reached in and touched it, then paused slightly.

Because she felt like she had touched a...

Round, large stone?

Chapter 342: Dragon Eggs

"Viserys..."

At that moment, the girl's voice abruptly echoed in the silent room, startling Viserys who was engrossed in searching for information about the 'black fog'.

"Hmm?"

Viserys slightly lifted his head to glance at her, only to see her squatting amidst the clutter under the bed, with a box in front of her.

She was looking at the contents of the box, her face showing a strange expression.

"Mia, what's wrong?" Viserys asked, somewhat puzzled.

"I think I found... some stones? Do you want to come and take a look?"

Mia looked at the five round stones in the box, speaking uncertainly.

She didn't think a noble Valyrian would keep five beautiful large stones under their bed.

But no matter how she looked at them, they seemed like stones.

These five stones were indeed very beautiful, their surfaces seemed to be covered with a layer of hard scales, faintly reflecting light.

Mia picked up one, it was somewhat heavy.

"Stones?"

On the other side, Viserys was slightly taken aback by Mia's words.

He didn't think the owner of this place would keep some beautiful stones under his bed, he wasn't Lannister.

However, Viserys's heart thumped as if he had suddenly thought of something.

Stones?

"Let me see the stones you found."

Then he carefully put down the book in his hand and walked over.

"This is..."

However, when Viserys came closer and saw the 'stone' Mia was holding, his heartbeat quickened.

Indeed.

He knew that a Valyrian noble wouldn't just keep a beautiful stone under his bed.

At this moment, the red-haired girl was holding an oval dragon egg, its surface covered with bright red scales.

Even though countless years had passed, the dragon egg was still as perfect as new, even shimmering.

"Do you know... what it is?"

Viserys took the red dragon egg from Mia's hands, examined it carefully, and then asked.

However, the moment his fingers touched the dragon egg, he felt a warm sensation.

He knew this was the dragon egg responding to him, it was definitely different from the first time he saw Balerion.

Viserys knew his dragon king bloodline had been activated.

Now, the purity of the dragon king bloodline in Viserys's body far exceeded that of his sister Daenerys, even comparable to the ancestors of the Targaryen family during the Valyrian era.

His deep violet eyes, his long silver-gold hair almost shining, his bloodline traits were more obvious than anyone else's.

The warmth generated by Viserys touching the dragon egg made him even more certain that this was a dragon egg.

The red-haired girl didn't know what this stone represented, but seeing the excitement on Viserys's face, she seemed to have a vague guess...

Although the texture of this thing was very much like a stone, it was a very regular oval shape, could it be...

No! It can't be!

"Viserys, this... this can't be a dragon egg, can it?"

Mia's heartbeat also quickened a bit, her face slightly flushed, she looked at the fiery red stone in Viserys's hand, and then cautiously asked.

"That's right, you're correct."

"This is a dragon egg."

A smile appeared on Viserys's face, he nodded slightly, this was the first time he had been so happy since arriving in Valyria.

He held the red dragon egg in his hand, then looked at the four dragon eggs of different colors neatly arranged in the box, Mia had
found a total of five dragon eggs.

Five dragon eggs.

You should know that the Targaryen family only has three dragons now.

Viserys's heartbeat quickened again, and seeing the joy on the handsome silver-haired youth's face, his bright violet eyes also filled with happiness, Mia felt genuinely happy from the bottom of her heart.

After Viserys's joy, he then slightly controlled his excited emotions and looked up at the red-haired girl.

"Do you know the great merit you've achieved, Mia?"

After Viserys had calmed his emotions, he looked at her with his pale violet eyes and spoke as calmly as possible.

"One of my vassals exchanged three dragon eggs for a seat at the council meeting and the position of finance minister."

"And these five dragon eggs can even exchange for you a territory to guard."

Viserys generously promised.

"What do you want?"

"Gold, castles, titles... just say it."

His voice now sounded calm, but every word was worth a fortune, making people dizzy.

He could take these dragon eggs without paying a penny, after all, he had saved the girl's life, and the favor could be completely repaid.

However, Viserys was never a stingy person, and he disdained to do such things.

This is also why he can tolerate the little actions of the ragged prince until today.

He is very tolerant and does not burn bridges, as long as the ragged prince does not seek death, he will not die.

For Mia, finding five dragon eggs for Viserys is naturally a great merit.

Viserys unhesitatingly told her that she could ask him for conditions as she pleased, as long as it was within the value of the dragon eggs, he could promise.

"Huh?"

However, Mia was slightly stunned when she heard Viserys's promise.

But then she didn't get very excited and tell him her ideals, asking for a high reward, instead, she became silent.

"What's wrong?"

Seeing the change on her face, the smile on Viserys's face gradually faded.

He instinctively reflected on whether he had said something wrong just now, was his attitude a bit too... condescending.

However, just as Viserys was about to apologize, Mia finally spoke.

"About these... I haven't thought about it."

The girl took a deep breath, then spoke softly.

"I don't know what I want, can I wait a bit longer?"

"I'll tell you what I want when I've thought about it."

Viserys was silent for a moment after hearing the girl's words, the apology he was about to say was swallowed back, and then he finally nodded.

"Um... okay."

"You can tell me anytime when you've thought about it, I'll satisfy whatever I can."

The weight of these five dragon eggs was heavy, Viserys and Mia struggled to pack them up and carry them on their backs.

Viserys planned to give the dragon eggs to Balerion when they left here.

Then the two of them searched the bedroom again, but didn't find anything else of value.

Then they left the half-collapsed tower and quietly made their way towards the central hall.

Chapter 343: Ancient Nobility

The civilization of Valyria was once at its peak, and this was reflected in the ruins of the capital that now lay in ruins.

Valyria had forty of the oldest families, each of them owning a luxurious palace in this city.

The palace that Viserys was currently exploring was only one of them, but it was already comparable in size to the Red Keep in his memory.

"We've found the dragon eggs, is there anything else you want?"

The girl, her hand covering her bandaged abdomen, which had miraculously healed a lot under the repair of the black fog, followed behind Viserys and spoke softly.

"There are many secrets in Valyria, are you content to just go back like this?"

Viserys turned his head to look at her, and Mia, hearing his words, pondered for a moment and suddenly felt it made sense.

"You're right, if it were me, I wouldn't mind having too many dragons."

Then she closed her mouth and did not continue to speak.

However, she couldn't hold back for long and couldn't help but speak again.

It was clear that after a night's time, Mia's mood had recovered a lot, and she was still the lively and enthusiastic girl.

"So where's your dragon, Viserys? I've heard your name in Volantis, everyone says you're the young dragon lord, saying your dragon burned tens of thousands of Dothraki..."

Mia was a bit talkative, and her words made Viserys's expression somewhat strange, giving her a glance.

"Where did you hear these rumors from, how could a dragon possibly burn tens of thousands of people? If that were true, Balerion would be exhausted."

Then Viserys looked up at the sky above his head, which was dark tonight.

In the sky, there seemed to be a huge figure faintly visible.

"As for my dragon, he came with me."

Viserys said.

"Your dragon came too?"

Mia was somewhat surprised, she hadn't seen where Viserys's dragon was.

However, Viserys shook his head slightly, without explaining too much, and at this time, another patrol of Valyrian soldiers came from not far away.

The two quickly hid behind a stone pillar, the silent patrol team had no perception this time, and just walked past them.

"Let's go."

Viserys took another look at the Valyrian soldiers who were emitting black gas and then spoke softly.

"Okay."

Mia also nodded.

Then the two disappeared from here, continuing towards the direction of the main hall.

Although the palace was large, it didn't take long for the two living beings to appear in the central hall amidst the monsters everywhere.

During the journey, they encountered the most dangerous moment, but the Valyrian soldier who discovered them was dragged into the overgrown grass by the two and stabbed to death with a chaotic knife.

"Is this where the king of Valyria lived?"

Inside the hall, Mia couldn't help but speak softly. In her view, this palace was a bit too luxurious.

"Valyria has no king."

Viserys spoke without turning his head.

The hall was very dark, and the patrolling soldiers seemed not to approach this hall. The two who discovered this were much relieved, so they took out the flint to get a bit of light.

However, when the firelight slightly dispelled the darkness around them, the movements of the two suddenly froze.

"What is this..."

Viserys instantly felt a bit creepy, and couldn't help but pull Mia behind him.

It turned out that the firelight dispelled the darkness in the hall, and the two saw a monster sitting
on the throne in the center of the hall, fully armed, clad in full armor, and covered in black hair.

He was very tall, much stronger than the other Valyrian soldiers, his eyes were blood-red, flickering with violence and reason, as if they were constantly switching.

He held a book in his hand, a long sword was placed in front of him, and his gaze was fixed on the two unexpected visitors.

And behind him stood six Valyrian soldiers.

"What is this..."

Mia shivered, then was pulled behind by Viserys, and whispered in surprise.

"Is he a living person?"

"Impossible."

"Valyria has been destroyed for hundreds of years—"

Viserys was also staring at the other party, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

He wanted to say that no one could live for hundreds of years, unless he was a god.

But he didn't say this in the end, this world harbored too many secrets, and he was just a beginner in deciphering them.

"He should be the master of this place."

Viserys also noticed the other's difference, he didn't pounce directly at the sight of a living person like the other black-haired monsters.

There was even a touch of reason in his eyes, like the master of this palace, clad in armor, like a Valyrian general who was used to fighting.

Then the next second.

Crack—

The other party suddenly stood up from the throne, put down the book in his hand.

Then he took the sword from the rack on the table in front of him, took heavy steps, and walked towards the two.

After a fierce struggle, the Valyrian noble general's violent eyes suppressed reason and took the upper hand.

Now he was no different from the monsters outside, full of violence, but there seemed to be logic in his mind.

The six Valyrian soldiers behind him also surrounded the two, and more soldiers from the palace came from a distance, it seemed that they were all following this man's orders.

"What should we do?"

Surrounded by these black-haired monsters, Mia asked nervously.

"Do we need to escape in that way?"

She was referring to escaping by turning into black fog, but what she didn't know was that this method was not always usable by Viserys, and overuse would give him a splitting headache.

Viserys took a deep breath and didn't speak at first, then handed the dragon eggs he was carrying on his back to Mia.

"What should we do?"

Viserys was also somewhat troubled.

There were too many monsters in the city of Valyria, and they would encounter attacks every two steps.

Now it can almost be confirmed that something must have happened on this land on the eve of the doomsday disaster.

It turned out that these people all turned into monsters, perhaps the wrath of the gods behind it was also related to this.

"Slay him!"

Then the silver-haired youth made up his mind, drew the long sword from his waist, and directly faced the other party.

At the same time, his heart was also calling Balerion's name.

If it was just him, he could escape smoothly, but there was also a burden, he couldn't guarantee the girl's safety.

In an instant, the loud roar of the dragon echoed in the sky.

Balerion received Viserys's call for help, and then dove down from the sky.

Chapter 344:

The towering Valyrian noble general, clad in heavy armor, also heard the resounding dragon roar that pierced the sky. His eyes once again showed a struggle.

His gaze towards Viserys became somewhat complex as he noticed his shimmering silver-gold hair.

Viserys didn't miss this opportunity, his sword aimed directly at the general's throat.

The noble general's reaction was swift, his eyes once again filled with violence.

Even though he had lost his sanity, his muscle memory allowed him to dodge Viserys's sword.

He then let out a roar, his heavy long sword swinging directly towards Viserys.

The surrounding Valyrian soldiers had them surrounded, but they did not attack, seemingly under the general's command.

Clang—

Viserys skillfully dodged, the long sword heavily hitting the ground, causing stones to fly and leaving a deep mark.

Viserys's eyes narrowed slightly.

Without waiting for him to react, the Valyrian general swung his sword again, intending to cut the silver-haired youth in half.

This time Viserys had nowhere to retreat, unable to dodge, he could only raise his long sword to block.

Clang—

The violent collision of metal sparked.

Viserys's hand felt slightly numb, his long sword instantly broke, the tip flying out and landing on the ground.

Viserys himself, however, managed to dodge the attack once again.

"Strong..."

"Much stronger than the Mountain."

Viserys shook his hand, which was slightly numb from the intense collision, but it was not a big deal.

The opponent seemed somewhat surprised that the young man in front of him had such great strength to withstand his sword.

The violent color in his blood-red eyes became even more intense.

"Be careful, Viserys!"

Mia, seeing this, couldn't help but exclaim.

"His sword seems to be Valyrian steel!"

Valyrian steel is extremely sharp and will not break or chip, even after hundreds or thousands of years. This is why the general was able to break Viserys's sword with a single stroke.

However, this was the first time the exploration team had seen a weapon made of Valyrian steel since they entered this lost continent.

In fact, people have always had a misconception about Valyrian steel, thinking that every soldier in that glorious civilization would be equipped with Valyrian steel armor and weapons.

But in reality, the process of making Valyrian steel is extremely complex, and it is suspected to involve magic, similar to the black stone technique.

There are two types of black stones in the world, one is the oily black stone of unknown origin, which appears widely in the wonders of the world, and the other is the stone built under the flame of Valyrian dragons.

Even in the Freehold of Valyria, Valyrian steel weapons were extremely rare, only nobles were qualified to possess them, which is why they are so scarce in the outside world.

For example, the Starks' Ice, the Tarlys' Heartsbane, the Mormonts' Longclaw, and so on...

These were all forged by Valyria for the Westerosi nobles at a great cost.

Huff~

However, even though his sword was broken, Viserys was still not panicked. He rolled on the spot to dodge the man's attack again, holding the broken sword and sweeping towards the knee to repel the opponent.

Then he got up, one hand holding the broken sword, and the other hand drew the Valyrian steel dagger from his waist.

"Roar—"

The fully armored general roared and lunged again.

But this time, after his attack was dodged by the silver

-haired youth again, the broken sword in the latter's hand skillfully slipped through the gaps in the armor, cutting the flesh of his thigh.

Then, in the moment when the general was in pain, another sword cut off the wrist of his sword-holding hand.

Thud—

Viserys, holding the Valyrian steel dagger, pounced forward, the dagger piercing the general's throat like lightning.

Thump—

With a dull sound, the tall black-haired monster collapsed heavily, kneeling on one knee.

Blood gushed from his throat, staining his armor red. His body twitched a bit, but the red in his eyes quickly faded at this moment.

Then he looked up at Viserys, using his last strength to point in the direction where he had been sitting.

"What are you trying to say?"

Viserys took a deep breath, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked up, unsure of what the other party was implying.

But the Valyrian noble had no strength left to explain, and his body fell heavily to the ground. A large cloud of black fog was absorbed into Viserys's body.

The soldiers who were about to arrive and were surrounding him also turned into black fog and were absorbed into Viserys's body.

"Why did they disappear?"

The red-haired girl standing behind Viserys, holding a bundle containing five dragon eggs, looked somewhat uncertain.

The sudden change happened too quickly. One second, Viserys's sword was broken and the situation was dire, and the next second, Viserys suddenly seized the opportunity and killed the opponent.

When the leading Valyrian noble fell, all the controlled soldiers around him turned into black fog and disappeared on the spot.

"Roar—"

At this moment, a huge dragon roar came from above Mia's head, echoing far in the silent night.

The numerous Valyrian residents who had now turned into black-haired monsters were terrified by the disturbance, and the surviving members of the exploration team hiding in the dark were also stunned.

They didn't expect that there would be a living dragon in the ruins of Valyria.

Balerion dove from the sky but was too late, as Viserys had already dealt with all the enemies here.

Boom—

Then Balerion's heavy body landed on the ground, shattering the floor and stirring up dust. He raised his long, elegant neck and let out another loud roar.

Balerion, the dragon, had been wandering in the ruins of Valyria for so long without being called by Viserys. Now that he finally had the chance to show up, he seemed very excited and eager to try.

However, when he flew down, he found that all the monsters here had been dealt with by Viserys, and he was somewhat displeased.

But Viserys didn't pay him any mind.

From the direction the man had pointed, he only found a book that seemed to be about 'demons' and 'devils'.

"This book is about..."

Viserys flipped through it briefly, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Chapter 345: Escape

Ever since the Doom of Valyria, hundreds of years of evolution have led to the Valyrian language in each Free City becoming distinct from one another. As Viserys skimmed through the book, he found many words he didn't recognize. Perhaps some words in the Valyrian language passed down through the Targaryen lineage had become assimilated into the Common Tongue.

"I'll study it when we get back."

He carefully stored the book, its material unique and still in pristine condition despite the passage of hundreds of years. He felt that the man's last gesture before his death was not malicious, perhaps intentionally hinting at something to his descendant. The book he left behind must be extremely important to Viserys.

Perhaps he had a premonition of the impending Doom and prepared himself fully, donning his armor and clutching this crucial book. However, this was certainly not the place to study ancient texts.

Viserys quietly apologized to the remains of the ancient noble, then stripped the Valyrian steel armor from his body and retrieved the Valyrian steel sword. These were valuable items, and Viserys would not waste them.

Balerion, with a huff, expressed his dissatisfaction, his breath rumbling like thunder. He had waited so long to make his appearance, only to do nothing upon arrival. Viserys, however, ignored him, causing Balerion to grumble, a low sound emanating from his monstrous head.

His enormous eyes then fell on Mia, who was nearly scared out of her wits. The red-haired girl swore she had never seen such a colossal creature in her life...

When she first learned of Viserys's identity, she was somewhat excited about the prospect of seeing a legendary dragon. However, when the dragon truly descended from the sky, Mia felt her mind go blank, her body seemingly not under her control. She could only stare wide-eyed at the behemoth before her.

But when Balerion turned his head and locked his gaze on her, her awe turned into intense fear. The more afraid she was, the more immobilized she became, her legs feeling as if they were filled with lead.

In the girl's eyes, the dragon slowly extended its head under the night sky, bringing its face close to hers. The hot breath that Balerion exhaled, like standing in front of a volcanic vent, made the girl's hair flutter wildly, and she could barely open her eyes.

"Will it... eat me in one bite?"

A strange thought suddenly crossed Mia's mind. Logically, Viserys's dragon wouldn't harm her, but a dragon is ultimately an animal. What if it suddenly went berserk...

"Dragons are highly intelligent."

"They might even be smarter than some humans."

At this moment, Viserys's voice suddenly rang out. His words were like a refreshing spring in the heat of summer, instantly relieving Mia's anxiety.

The dragon slowly lifted its head, and the girl let out a sigh of relief, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. She found that she could move again.

She had truly been terrified just now.

Although she had been ready to face death not long ago, that was when she had been reborn from a desperate situation. Now, having just overcome a crisis, if she were to be bitten to death by Viserys's dragon, where would she go to seek justice?

"So it was..."

Mia wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, then turned to look at Viserys.

The silver-haired youth had already gathered the items he wanted to take from here: the ancient books he had moved from the bedroom, that very important book, a set of Valyrian steel armor, and
a longsword.

He was currently loading these items onto Balerion's back. Before setting off, Viserys had added a set of equipment to Balerion's back that could hold these items.

Hearing Mia's question, Viserys, who was sitting on the dragon's back, shrugged and then gestured towards her chest.

"It wasn't looking at you, but at the dragon eggs in your arms."

"Those... are some of its few remaining kin."

Viserys's voice was calm, but it revealed a brutal reality. They were the last dragons in this world, and Balerion's mood seemed to have become much more somber.

"Perhaps Balerion now thinks you're more important than I am. Of course, it won't hurt you."

"Alright, come on up."

Then Viserys patted the seat behind the dragon.

Normally, Balerion didn't like others riding on his back, but Mia was an exception.

She was currently holding five dragon eggs, and Balerion was being very careful, of course, not to harm her.

"Can I ride the dragon too?"

Hearing Viserys's words, Mia immediately became excited.

The girl was lively by nature and quickly forgot the scene that had just scared her silly.

And since she had Viserys's assurance, she shouldn't encounter any danger.

The girl first asked tentatively, then received a positive response, and then asked again.

"So how... do I get on?"

Mia looked at Balerion's huge body and was a bit perplexed. She hadn't seen how Viserys had climbed up.

"Climb up from Balerion's wings..."

Viserys, sitting on the dragon's back, began to instruct.

However, before Viserys could finish his sentence, a terrifying dragon roar suddenly came from the distance.

The sound waves swept across like a break in the clouds, pushing away the dark mist in the sky. The sky over Valyria had never been so clear.

At the same time, a figure larger than Balerion appeared on the horizon, flapping its wings and flying towards them.

Behind it, Viserys could vaguely see billowing black smoke rising into the sky, like a pillar reaching the heavens.

"What is that?"

"A bigger dragon?"

Mia, who was preparing to climb onto the dragon's back, was slightly panicked, and Balerion also seemed to sense danger and became a bit restless.

"That is—"

However, Viserys's gaze passed over the terrifying dragon and landed on the black smoke behind it that was faintly reaching the sky. His pupils contracted slightly.

"That's probably where the secret of the Doom of Valyria is hidden."

For some reason, Viserys suddenly had this feeling, followed by a deep sense of unease.

"Get on quickly!"

Viserys pulled Mia onto the dragon's back.

Without needing his urging, Balerion let out a low roar, flapped his wings, and flew straight into the sky, heading towards the smoke sea on the outskirts of Valyria.

On the ground below, the members of the exploration team hiding in the dark saw the figures on the dragon's back and their eyes widened in shock.

"It's them!"

"They can actually ride a dragon?"

Driven by a strong desire to survive, they plucked up their courage and ran out, shouting for help towards the sky.

"Help!"

"Save me!"

However, Viserys and Mia in the sky, with the wind filling their ears, couldn't hear the voices from the ground.

Their cries only attracted two black-haired monsters, which promptly tore them to shreds.

Chapter 346: Above the Smoke Sea

Whoosh~

The fierce wind howled in the sky above Valyria, relentlessly filling the ears of the two riders. Viserys lay on the dragon's back, while Mia clung tightly to his waist from behind, terrified of falling from the sky.

Mia's first experience riding a dragon was not very pleasant, as there was a much larger creature chasing them relentlessly from behind.

"Why is it chasing us?"

The girl clung tightly to Viserys's waist, not daring to loosen her grip, and shouted over the wind.

Then she got a mouthful of the gale, which made her cough violently.

"Why do you think? The black-haired monsters below are chasing us, and that's why it's chasing us now."

Viserys's hands tightly gripped the handle on the dragon's back. The howling wind filled their ears. Even though they were very close together, so close that they could feel the softness of each other's backs, Viserys still had to shout to make Mia hear him.

Chasing behind Balerion was an even larger dragon. Balerion's growth rate had been very fast, growing to a length of thirty to forty meters in just two or three years.

However, the longer the length, the larger the volume, and the slower Balerion's growth rate became. But his growth still steadily outpaced his two brothers by three times.

Balerion's size now definitely made him a true ruler of the sky. However, if he had been born a few hundred years ago, on the eve of the Doom of Valyria, when the grand empire was at its peak before it collapsed, his size would have been considered average.

There were hundreds of dragons on the Valyrian Peninsula, and the size of the dragons grew with their age, seemingly without limit.

The oldest dragons in Valyria even exceeded two hundred meters.

Compared to these dragon ancestors, Balerion was truly like a small worm.

The dragon that was now chasing them seemed to be only forty to fifty meters long, but it was still much larger than Balerion.

The survivors of the Doom of Valyria had transformed into black-haired monsters, and the dragons that once lived on this land naturally survived as well.

They were enveloped in a thick black fog, seemingly affected by the fog, losing their senses and becoming a strange state between death and survival. Viserys couldn't tell whether they were alive or dead.

"It must have been attracted by Balerion."

Viserys said.

The dragon did not appear when the exploration team entered the city of Valyria.

It was only when Balerion descended from the sky and roared that it was disturbed and flew over.

Viserys held tightly to the saddle, the fierce wind making the girl behind him squint. However, Viserys was doing better, his extraordinary physique enhancing all aspects of his physical condition, allowing him to keep his eyes open even in the face of such a gale.

Whoosh~

Then his silver-gold hair danced wildly in the wind. Viserys, holding onto the saddle, turned his head to look back again.

In the distance.

A column of black smoke rising into the sky was still continuously spewing black fog.

Like a volcanic eruption, the fog that filled Valyria and even the entire smoke sea seemed to originate from there.

"What on earth is that?"

Viserys didn't know what it had been like in the past few hundred years, but now it seemed to have become very active.

The turmoil in the smoke sea outside seemed to originate from here. He had a strong feeling that the secret of the Doom of Valyria was hidden there

.

Then Viserys took a deep breath and turned to look at the relentless deep green dragon in the sky.

Its blood-red eyes were filled with black smoke and it was still chasing them relentlessly, and the distance seemed to be getting closer and closer.

"It seems we can't escape."

Viserys's heart sank a little. He conveyed his will to Balerion, asking for its opinion, as the core of this battle was Balerion, not himself.

However, although Balerion couldn't speak, it conveyed a very strong will instantly, and its fighting spirit kept rising.

Even though the opponent was larger, it was enraged and wanted to tear the opponent apart completely.

"Heh—"

The black dragon kept flapping its wings, letting out a low roar from its mouth, and the light from the gaps in its scales became more and more frequent with its heavy breathing.

"Good!"

Viserys got Balerion's reply. It expressed a strong will to fight to the death with the opponent, and Viserys naturally wouldn't hold Balerion back.

The dragon and the dragon rider are partners who help and complement each other.

"Balerion, let's take it down together!"

Viserys, riding on the dragon's back, gave the order, and at the same time told Mia, who was behind him, to hold on tight to him. He probably wouldn't be able to look after her next.

And Balerion, having received Viserys's affirmative reply, became even more excited.

"Roar—"

A pair of blood-red eyes were filled with astonishing fighting spirit. The wings that covered the sky and sun drew an arc in the sky, and it let out a deafening roar.

Now, the two dragons, one chasing and one fleeing, were far away from the city of Valyria. They appeared in the sky above the smoke sea.

This place should be much safer. There won't be other dragons from Valyria attracted here, so Viserys dared to fight to the death with the opponent here.

"Go!"

Then Viserys gave the order again.

Balerion, without any fear, dived towards the dragon that was even larger than him.

Under the gray sky, the deep night shrouded the boiling sea. Gray fog kept surging up from under the sea, and the two dragons fighting in the sky above the smoke sea disturbed the inhabitants under the sea.

Whoosh~

Long tentacles swayed with the sea, and the huge head hid under the water, bobbing up and down.

At this moment, another huge creature slowly swam past it, seemingly stirring the sea. The sea monster's tentacles silently wrapped around the other's body.

However, this action angered the large whale, which immediately bit off many of the tentacles.

"Woo—"

The sea monster let out a melodious and piercing cry, and then the two sea monsters under the smoke sea started a fight.

And in the sky above.

The surging red flames illuminated the entire sky. Both dragons spewed out dragon flames that violently collided with each other. The scattered fire snakes fell down, becoming the most beautiful scenery in this sky.

"Roar—"

Then they both let out a roar of anger.

Chapter 347: Battle in the Sky

Balerion, though smaller in size, was ferocious. He spewed raging dragon flames and then dove down to engage in close combat with the green dragon.

Boom—

Two massive creatures, each nearly a hundred tons and dozens of meters long, clashed in the sky. Their collision produced a dull sound, and the dragons' roars echoed like thunder.

"Roar—"

Balerion was undoubtedly sent flying, letting out a deafening roar. A shocking wound appeared on his body, covered in black scales.

However, the black dragon's massive wings flapped continuously to stabilize his body. He showed no fear of battle. His ferocious head rose again, undeterred, and he dove down once more, carrying the wind and flames with him.

Meanwhile, Viserys, who was riding on the dragon's back, unbuckled his belt and drew the Valyrian steel sword he had recently acquired.

The sword had a gilded cross-guard, a black hilt, and a blade as smooth as water. It was a hand-and-a-half sword, slightly longer than a standard longsword but shorter than a greatsword. It could be used with one hand or two.

Clang—

Viserys drew the unnamed Valyrian steel sword, its sharp cold light illuminating his face.

The silver-haired young man gripped the dragon scales with one hand as the wind howled in his ears. He then stood up from his seat, turned his head, and shouted to Mia.

"You're about to become a dragon rider. Hold on to the saddle!"

"What are you going to do?!"

Mia, seeing Viserys's actions, was shocked, her voice distorted.

She clung tightly to the spot where Viserys had just been holding, not daring to let go.

From the moment Viserys drew his sword, she had a very ominous premonition, and now it was becoming a reality.

"What am I going to do?"

Viserys seemed very calm. He stood on the dragon's back, his silver-gold hair fluttering in the wind, gripping the scales tightly.

"Ever seen a Hollywood blockbuster?"

"Wha...what?"

Mia didn't quite understand, and Viserys showed a slight smile on his face, shaking his head without explaining anything.

"Never mind, I was just talking nonsense. Forget it if you don't understand."

Then Viserys continued.

"A dragon rider fights alongside his dragon. Of course, I'm going to kill this beast."

"Are you crazy?"

On the other side, Mia understood his words and felt like her nose was about to twist in anger.

She thought Viserys must be crazy. She was already nervous to death, and this man actually wanted to get involved in the fight between the dragons.

"Do you think you can intervene in a dragon fight? You don't have wings. Who do you think you are? A god?"

The red-haired girl gripped the saddle tightly, shouting against the howling wind.

"The gods can't save us now!"

Viserys shrugged slightly.

He was worried that the fight between the two dragons would attract more terrifying monsters from the ruins of Valyria. After all, not long ago, Balerion's roar had attracted a dragon.

"If we don't deal with it, I'm afraid we won't be able to escape."

Viserys seemed indifferent to Mia's complaints, but in fact, he was extremely nervous inside, which was why he had just blurted out a truth to relieve the pressure.

Although he had experimented with this move before, this time it was being used in real combat, and at such a height, his legs were a bit weak.

Boom

—

But the next second, the two dragons, now truly enraged, clashed fiercely once more.

Balerion showed his ferocity. After being wounded, he became even more courageous, fiercely rushing up to bite his opponent.

Viserys, on the dragon's back, gripped the scales tightly, managing to withstand the massive impact without being thrown off.

He and Balerion were in sync, and he was also secretly directing Balerion in the fight against the other dragon.

At this moment, Viserys finally saw his opportunity.

"Now!"

Whoosh—

The silver-haired youth suddenly let go, leaping off the dragon's back with all his strength.

Holding the Valyrian steel sword, he stabbed directly at the green dragon's crimson eye from above.

The green dragon obviously didn't expect the human on the other dragon's back to be so bold. He seized the opportunity and suddenly leapt down, stabbing at its eye. It was too late to dodge and was brutally stabbed.

Puff—

Viserys, holding the Valyrian steel sword, leapt down and stabbed into the green dragon's eye.

The next second.

"Roar!!"

Under the gray sky, a painful dragon roar suddenly echoed.

The green dragon flapped its wings in confusion, its massive body twisting and struggling in the air. Its mournful roar filled the sky.

The green dragon's eye was blinded by Viserys, blood flowing out, and Viserys was undoubtedly thrown off by the green dragon's violent struggle, falling freely from the sky.

"Viserys!"

Mia, who was on the dragon's back, saw this and her eyes widened, her eyes instantly turning red.

Falling from such a height, even if the sea of smoke was below, he would be killed on impact.

The red-haired girl couldn't believe that Viserys was just going to fall and die like this. Her eyes turned red and tears welled up, being carried away by the howling wind and scattered in the air.

Balerion also seized this opportunity. Taking advantage of the green dragon's continuous struggle and fall from the sky, he opened his huge mouth and bit off one of its hind legs.

Blood spilled freely onto the sea surface, and the green dragon's hind leg was bitten off by Balerion, leaving only a pale bone.

"Roar—"

The green dragon, in pain, let out another earth-shattering roar. It lifted its other hind leg and scratched Balerion's body, instantly adding another deep wound to the black dragon. Dragon blood was sprinkled in the air.

However, Mia was oblivious to this. The red-haired girl just held onto the saddle tightly, her tears falling like broken pearls.

She didn't care whether Balerion had won or not, she only cared whether Viserys was still alive.

"Why are you crying?"

However, at this moment, a hand reached out from behind Mia and patted her shoulder.

"Viserys?"

Mia's face was still full of tears. She turned her head to look at the panting man standing behind her, her face full of disbelief.

Viserys was covered in dragon blood and some unknown fluid from the dragon's eyeball, looking somewhat disheveled.

He had turned into a cloud of black mist and returned to Balerion's back after being thrown off.

And just as Balerion was about to dive down and end the life of the green dragon, several more dragon figures appeared in the distance.

As expected, this battle had disturbed the peace of Valyria, and the dragons infected by the black mist began to gradually awaken.

"Balerion, retreat quickly!"

Viserys's face was slightly tense as he saw this.

The
green dragon let out a huge roar as it fell into the sea of smoke, and was immediately targeted by a sea monster lurking beneath the smoke. The dragon roared in protest.

While Balerion was eager to kill the green dragon, he had to obey Viserys's command.

The massive wounds on his body were still bleeding profusely, falling into the sea of smoke.

Then, spreading his wings, he flew towards the area outside the sea of smoke.

Not long after, the layers of smoke from the sea were close at hand, and the horizon began to turn a fish-belly white.

The green dragon let out a huge roar as it fell into the sea of smoke, and was immediately targeted by a sea monster lurking beneath the smoke. The dragon roared in protest.

While Balerion was eager to kill the green dragon, he had to obey Viserys's command.

The massive wounds on his body were still bleeding profusely, falling into the sea of smoke.

Then, spreading his wings, he flew towards the area outside the sea of smoke.

Not long after, the layers of smoke from the sea were close at hand, and the horizon began to turn a fish-belly white.

Chapter 348: The Sea of Sighs

Boom—

A thunderous noise echoed.

The black dragon descended from the sky, landing heavily on the ground. The earth trembled, and a wave of wind and dust rolled out, spreading in all directions.

Depressions and cracks appeared on the ground, and countless towering trees were affected by Balerion's wings, collapsing with a loud crash.

Balerion had been injured in the recent battle above the Sea of Smoke. The dragon's fight was extremely bloody. With Viserys's help, Balerion bit off one of the green dragon's hind legs, but the black dragon himself was also severely wounded, a bloody gash torn open by the other dragon's claws.

Blood was freely spilled over the Sea of Smoke, attracting countless monsters from beneath the smoke, hoping that Balerion would fall from the sky and provide them with a feast.

However, disappointingly for them, Balerion was stronger than they had imagined. The black dragon, carrying a man and a woman on his back, passed through the layers of mist over the Sea of Smoke, flying over the ruined city of Oros near the Sea of Smoke.

This city was once one of the Freehold's cities, but it was devastated in the aftermath of the Doom.

Now, the mist of the Sea of Smoke was raging, seemingly expanding. The mist that used to shroud the sea has now invaded the mainland.

It gradually enveloped this city that connects the continent of Essos, continuously invading deeper into the Land of Long Summer.

Before setting off, Viserys had heard that the people of Elyria and Tyrosh, near Slaver's Bay, had begun to move their families in succession, leaving the city, fearing that they would wake up one day to find themselves enveloped by the mist of the Sea of Smoke, unable to leave.

Now, the black dragon, carrying Viserys and Mia, broke through the mist. The pursuing mutated dragon seemed unable to leave the mist and did not continue to chase them.

They finally arrived in the Land of Long Summer. Then, due to his injuries and excessive blood loss, Balerion finally couldn't hold on and descended from the sky with difficulty.

They fell into a forest at the edge of a vast lake, breaking several towering trees. The violent impact made the dragon's roar even more dull and painful.

The dragon's fall had a huge impact on the small animals living in this forest, who fled from their homes in panic.

"Heh—"

Balerion lay on the ground, breathless and unwilling to move. Sharp teeth still held the flesh and blood of the green dragon. Its breathing was somewhat heavy, and the wounds on its body were shocking, bleeding bright red.

"How is he?"

Mia asked worriedly.

Viserys and she had already jumped off the dragon's back and sat down on the grass nearby.

They were both helpless about the dragon's injuries. After all, they didn't even know how to treat people, let alone dragons.

Viserys and Balerion communicated through their minds, and then Viserys shook his head and said, "Balerion says he'll be fine after some rest."

Dragons have a strong ability to heal themselves. The injuries caused by the green dragon were not very serious. The main problem was that after being injured, Balerion didn't get effective rest and flew for a long time.

This led to the wound not healing, losing too much blood, and finally falling after leaving the Sea of Smoke.

"That's good."

The red-haired girl also breathed a sigh of relief, then stood up and walked to the sparkling lakeside not far away.

Her clothes were already tattered, but the
girl was not fussy. She knelt by the lake, which was full of pebbles of various sizes.

She extended her hands to scoop up a handful of clear lake water, but she didn't drink it directly. Instead, she gently licked it with her tongue, then frowned.

"Salty."

"Where are we?"

She didn't expect the lake water here to be salty, just like seawater.

Now, the sky was beginning to glow, the sun gradually rising from the east. The brilliant sunlight pierced through the clouds, abruptly shining on the earth, casting flickering tree shadows.

Viserys, sitting on the grass, was calming Balerion's emotions. He heard the girl's voice and raised an eyebrow.

"The lake water is salty?"

Then the silver-haired young man stood up and walked to the lakeside, coming to Mia's side. He looked out over the vast lake, then squinted his eyes.

"We might be near the Sea of Sighs now."

If they were to follow the map, their escape route was not the previously planned trajectory.

Instead, they followed Valyria, passed through Tyria, flew over the Sea of Smoke to reach Oros, and then continued to fly forward.

The land beneath their feet should be the legendary Land of Long Summer, which is rarely visited by people.

Since the Doom, the Land of Long Summer was affected, and most of the local residents moved away. The Land of Long Summer became a vast uninhabited area.

This is the Land of Long Summer, and this vast lake is the largest inland sea in the world. There is a narrow waterway at the bottom of the continent that connects to the outer sea, known as the Sea of Sighs.

"So we've escaped to the Sea of Sighs..."

Mia knelt on the pebbly beach of the lake, her expression somewhat dazed.

The morning sunlight shone on the sparkling water, casting a golden glow, reflecting in the girl's eyes.

The fresh air, the fragrance of grass leaves.

"Did we... really escape from there?"

"Yes, we escaped."

Viserys also took a deep breath. The morning sunlight brought a touch of warmth.

Having been in the mist of Valyria, they hadn't felt the warmth of the sun for a long time.

Even though it was only half a month, Viserys felt as if it had been a lifetime.

He truly felt the beauty of life. Being able to see the sun rise every day was the happiest thing.

Indeed, in addition to water and food, sunlight is also essential for human life.

"What's the plan now?"

The two stood by the sparkling lake, and then Viserys turned his head and asked.

The girl kneeling on the pebbly beach let go of the lake water she was holding. Her fair legs were covered in scars. She looked up at Viserys standing beside her.

"Do you remember what you said before..."

The girl spoke softly.

"Of course."

Viserys nodded slightly.

"This is your reward. Whatever you wish for, whatever you want, just say it."

Mia had found five dragon eggs for him. Each dragon egg was priceless.

This was Viserys's promise to her, and he would not go back on his word.

"I heard that respected warriors in Westeros are knighted."

This was part of Andal culture, and Mia didn't know where she had heard it from.

"I want to become a knight!"

The girl said without hesitation. It seemed that she had this answer a long time ago.

Chapter 349: The White Cloak Knight

Mia wanted Viserys to personally knight her.

Viserys was clearly taken aback that the girl's requested reward was just that, and he paused for a moment.

"You want me to knight you?"

"How so?"

"Is this wish difficult?"

The red-haired girl stood up from the pebbly beach, her voice filled with confusion. Her tattered clothes fluttered slightly in the wind that blew across the open lake.

Viserys fell silent for a moment at her words, then shook his head.

"No..."

"Knighting you isn't difficult, but..."

Viserys didn't know how to explain to her that there were very few female knights in this world...

And he felt that she was somewhat underestimating the promise he had given. She could become a wealthy merchant, or a lord of a land.

But she just wanted to become a knight. There are many types of knights, and it's merely a threshold for commoners to become nobles. She could have ascended to nobility in one step.

"There are very few women who become knights, Mia."

"Because being a knight means responsibility, duty, honor, and battle..."

Who were the female knights throughout history? The first one that came to Viserys's mind was the 'Defiant' Daena Targaryen.

Was the 'Beauty' of Tarth a knight? No, she wasn't. She was just skilled with weapons.

Viserys wanted to say something, but the girl interrupted him.

"I've heard from people from Westeros that knighthood is about spirit, not the sword."

"And I think spirit shouldn't be distinguished by... whether or not you have that thing."

Mia spoke decisively, her eyes shining as she looked at Viserys. The girl was straightforward, which made Viserys feel a bit embarrassed.

"You're right..."

After a moment of silence, the silver-haired young man finally nodded.

"I can knight you, Mia."

But Viserys hadn't finished speaking.

"However, are you sure about this?"

"You will have to give up high titles, lands, and gold..."

"Of course!"

Mia nodded solemnly. She didn't want those things that everyone else coveted.

Everyone in this world has their own choices, their own stories, and experiences.

If everyone was the same, wouldn't that be too boring?

Clang—

The next second, Viserys drew the Valyrian steel sword that he had used to slay the dragon himself. The gilded cross-guard, the smooth blade reflected a chilling light in the morning sun.

"Kneel before me, my lady."

Viserys spoke calmly, his handsome face unusually serious.

The red-haired girl was slightly taken aback, but she quickly reacted. She gently knelt on one knee before Viserys, her body and legs still bearing the scars of battle.

Viserys, holding the heavy Valyrian steel sword, gently placed it on the girl's stubbornly raised shoulder.

"Mia of Volantis, do you swear before the gods and men..."

"To protect the weak, women, and children."

"To obey your superiors, your lord, and your king."

"To fight bravely, no matter how difficult, humble, or dangerous the future, never to disgrace your mission."

Viserys's voice was calm, speaking word by word.

The girl, kneeling on one knee before Viserys, felt the long sword on her shoulder. She looked up at Viserys's eyes and spoke solemnly.

"I do!"

Meeting Viserys was the biggest turning point in the girl's life.

She had explored the deepest parts of the Valyrian ruins, ridden a dragon
and witnessed a dragon fight, and accepted Viserys's personal knighthood, transforming from a simple mercenary to a noble knight.

But Viserys's knighting ceremony was not over yet.

He moved the Valyrian steel sword from the girl's right shoulder to her left, his gaze fixed on the female knight kneeling before him. Then he suddenly spoke.

"Ser Mia."

"Are you willing to become my Kingsguard?"

"From this day until your last day, to take no wife, hold no lands, father no children, wear no crowns, seek no glory, faithfully serve, live and die at this post."

Viserys's voice echoed over the silent lake, word by word.

The newly knighted female knight, unarmored and scarred, knelt before him, her back straight. Upon closer inspection, one could see the girl's shoulders trembling slightly, her eyes reddening.

"I am willing, Your Grace!"

"I will be the sword in the light, the shield that guards the realms of men."

Then Viserys lifted the Valyrian steel sword from the girl's shoulder and slowly sheathed it.

"Rise, Ser Mia, my second White Cloak Knight."

"When we return to Pentos, I'll introduce you to your captain."

The girl seemed a bit emotional. Fortune and misfortune are two sides of the same coin, and her fate had changed at this moment.

No one could know whether her decision to give up the envy-inducing rewards of gold and titles for a position as a Kingsguard by Viserys's side was worth it, but for now, Mia couldn't help but tear up.

Viserys put away the Valyrian steel sword, weighing it in his hand. The black scabbard was plain and unadorned, hiding a peerless weapon within.

"A good knight can't be without a suitable weapon."

Viserys glanced at her and then spoke, tossing the sword to the newly knighted woman.

"This sword is for you."

The newly appointed member of Viserys's Kingsguard was still a bit flustered.

Thud—

She caught the sword that Viserys had thrown.

"Your Grace, this sword is too precious..."

Mia spoke hurriedly. She knew this was a precious Valyrian steel sword, and it had personally slain a dragon. How could Viserys just casually give it to her?

"You are my Kingsguard, giving it to you is also for better protecting myself."

"Don't worry, accept it."

Viserys glanced at her and spoke calmly.

"Every Valyrian steel sword in the world has its own name, and the name of this sword is unknown. You can give it a new name."

"Like... Dragon Slayer, oh no, Sword."

Viserys made a lonely joke that only he could understand. Although Mia didn't understand Viserys's joke, she understood his meaning.

Immediately, the female knight knelt on one knee, holding the incredibly precious Valyrian steel sword and spoke.

"Thank you for the sword, Your Grace, I will dedicate my life and honor to the Kingsguard!"

Chapter 350: Halt the Arrest

In the land of the long summer, Viserys, having escaped the Valyrian ruins, knighted his loyal friend as his second Kingsguard.

Meanwhile, in the icy lands beyond the Wall, the army of the dead scoured the mountains and seas in search of the Three-Eyed Raven, whom the Night King despised, but returned empty-handed. With the help of the Children of the Forest, the Raven was well-hidden and protected by magical barriers, making it difficult for even the Night King to find him.

The existence of the Raven had only slightly distracted the Night King, aiding the human army's retreat. Otherwise, a single fire wouldn't have been enough to allow the human army to retreat unscathed.

The humans fled to Winterfell, where they reorganized their defenses. Maester Luwin of Winterfell was also busy, releasing all the ravens kept in the rookery. Letters bearing the seal of House Baratheon flew to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms.

The news of the allied army's defeat spread quickly throughout the Seven Kingdoms, even reaching the Iron Islands and Dorne. The noble of Dorne, Lord Ellwood, had managed to escape, but he had lost a leg on the battlefield and was now crippled.

Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands was shocked by the defeat, but also took some pleasure in it. He didn't believe the wights and the army of the dead could cross the sea. The Sunset Sea was their best barrier.

Seeing House Baratheon falter, Balon, who had always wanted to lead the Iron Islands to independence and restore the old ways, began to plot again. He sent his younger brother, Euron Greyjoy, to Pentos with a show of goodwill.

They sought to visit Viserys Targaryen, the second prince of the former Targaryen dynasty. Although he had not yet set foot in Westeros, his reputation had already shaken the Seven Kingdoms. He had been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms by his mother on Dragonstone and had a claim to the Iron Throne.

Viserys was said to have a strong army and three dragons across the Narrow Sea. He was destined to fight House Baratheon, and the Greyjoys could bet on both sides, manipulating the details to achieve the desired result.

The Iron Islands watched from the sidelines, treating the king's call to arms as toilet paper, and even sent family members to secretly liaise with the Targaryens.

The rest of the Westerosi nobility was shocked by this news. If the North couldn't hold, and the wights crossed the Neck, they would be the next to suffer. The nobles, who had not been too concerned about the wights, suddenly became anxious.

The lords of the Seven Kingdoms stopped their feasting and began to gather and train their young men in earnest, responding to the king's call to send more troops to support the Winterfell defense line.

This time, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms did not play tricks. They knew that if they did not unite, they would not be able to defeat the enemy from the North.

If even the allied army, which had gathered the armies of the Seven Kingdoms, could not defeat the enemy, then their own soldiers would be even less able to protect their lands and homes.

Jon Arryn, who was in charge of King's Landing, had been suspicious since the last scandal involving the queen's pregnancy. On the surface, the old Hand of the King seemed to have stopped investigating, but in fact, he was still secretly continuing his investigation. The Duke of
the Vale, despite his age, was still politically astute.

The results of the investigation were shocking.

Almost all the evidence pointed to the fact that the king's two children, Prince Joffrey and Princess Myrcella, were most likely not the king's biological offspring.

And the identity of the man who committed adultery with the queen was even more obvious.

All the children were blond, and the queen and her brother Jaime Lannister, who served as a Kingsguard, had been close since childhood, known as the golden boy and girl of the Westerlands.

All the evidence had been investigated, and only the final arrest was needed to expose the biggest scandal in the history of the royal family.

However, Jon Arryn's investigation and arrest suddenly came to a halt.

Flap, flap—

A raven carrying a royal decree flew to King's Landing, and Jon Arryn, sitting on the Iron Throne, looked extremely troubled.

There were many nobles present in the throne room, and like a dilapidated house, it couldn't keep any secrets.

In the morning, a raven from Winterfell arrived, and by the afternoon, the news of the defeat of the allied forces had spread throughout King's Landing.

The country was now in turmoil, and the defeat of the allied forces meant that they needed to unite against the enemies from the North and across the sea.

Queen Cersei was the eldest daughter of the Warden of the West, the Duke of Casterly Rock. The man she committed adultery with was her own brother, the eldest son of Duke Tywin.

If Jon Arryn arrested Cersei and her brother today, then the Westerlands would rebel tomorrow. Everyone knew that Tywin's favorite was his son Jaime.

He could give up Cersei, he could give up Tyrion, but he could never give up Jaime.

Even though Tywin had heard long ago that his beloved son had slept with his sister, there had been such rumors in the Westerlands.

But Duke Tywin, like an ostrich, silenced these rumors by cutting people's throats, telling everyone that it was just a rumor, and they were just close siblings.

Therefore, Jon Arryn, as the Hand of the King, had to temporarily halt the arrest, and also hide the truth from Robert.

Otherwise, he had no doubt that if Robert knew about this, he would immediately abandon his tens of thousands of troops and rush back to kill the adulterous couple.

The human alliance began to rebuild their defenses in Winterfell, taking a breather while the army of the dead was searching for the Three-Eyed Raven beyond the Wall.

However, the footsteps of winter would not stop because of a missing raven.

In the year 292 AC.

The army of the dead, having crossed the Wall, once again began to march south.

The last Lord of Last Hearth, Jon Umber, refused to abandon his home and vowed to resist, but it was like trying to stop a chariot with a mantis.

In the end, he was crushed by the advancing army of the dead. The soldiers of Last Hearth were all wiped out, including Jon Umber himself, who became a new wight, continuing to march forward.

The army of the dead indeed began to split up here.

Some wights, led by other White Walkers, headed straight for Castle Black, while others went to Karhold and Deepwood Motte.

Chapter 351: The Battle of Winterfell

In the land of the eternal summer.

Although Bear Island is located north of Winterfell, it was spared due to its insular nature.

This confirmed Balon Greyjoy's speculation from the Iron Islands: the dead cannot swim!

Bear Island could have stood aside like the Iron Islands and watched the chaos unfold. However, Jorah Mormont, the Lord of Bear Island, chose to respond to the call and actively participated in the war against the White Walkers.

But trouble found Jorah. He had been secretly trading slaves.

This was well hidden until the war exposed it. To satisfy his greedy wife, Jorah sold poachers to the Tyroshi as slaves, an act illegal in the North.

Eddard Stark arrested Jorah for this, intending to sentence him to death. Jeor Mormont, the old Lord of Bear Island who had joined the Night's Watch, wanted to plead for his son but couldn't bring himself to knock on the door of the Stark Lord.

He knew his son had committed a capital offense, and Lord Eddard was a man of unwavering justice.

Moreover, in what capacity should he plead for Jorah? He had given up his lordship of Bear Island to become the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

The issue caused quite a stir in Winterfell, where the human alliance was preparing for the second line of defense. Everyone was watching Eddard Stark's actions.

Jorah, who had fought bravely in the Battle of Pyke, was arrested by his own lord after returning with the army to Winterfell, facing execution.

However, after some time, old Mormont did not plead for his son, and Jorah did not die. He miraculously escaped the predicament.

It turned out that King Robert had intervened for Jorah.

He helped the brave man who had once been at the forefront of the Battle of Pyke, believing that at this time of need, he should not be punished for merely selling a few damned men as slaves in the past, especially since he was not doing it anymore.

Therefore, Robert asked Eddard Stark to release Jorah, but was refused by the honorable Lord Stark.

King Robert was instantly furious. He personally issued a royal pardon for Jorah and demanded Eddard Stark release him.

Subsequently, Jorah Mormont walked out of the Winterfell prison unscathed.

The king's actions were unanimously praised by the soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms' alliance present. They shouted the king's name and raised their glasses to him.

The morale of the alliance, which had been low for some time, was somewhat relieved by this event, becoming more united.

However, Eddard Stark, who had become the villain in this story, did not explain anything from beginning to end, even if people would criticize him behind his back.

…

The guerrilla war between humans and the army of the dead began.

The human alliance seized the opportunity when the army of the dead began to divide their forces. They actively attacked and encircled the enemy's small troops, and there were victories and defeats.

Randyll Tarly, the famous general from the Riverlands, wielded his family's Valyrian steel sword, Heartsbane, and killed a White Walker, becoming the second person to kill a White Walker after King Robert.

However, bad news also came. The Dreadfort fell, and all the people stationed there became fresh wights. The soldiers of House Bolton and House Frey who went to support were attacked by White Walkers.

Walder Frey was trampled into a pulp by a giant wight mammoth, so much so that he didn't even qualify to
become a wight.

Roose Bolton, the cunning Lord of the Dreadfort, led his knights in a wide circle, never returning home, and thus escaped the disaster.

The war between humans and the army of the dead continued to unfold on this land, with battles, ambushes, and fires. Humans used every strategy to try to stop the advance of the White Walkers.

However, the army of the dead had no tactics, only one move: to keep moving forward, brutally and directly towards the main camp of the human alliance.

The second line of defense for the human alliance, Winterfell, was already prepared.

The soldiers were full of energy, and the knights were in shining armor. They swore to crush the White Walkers at Winterfell, protect the safety of the people of the Seven Kingdoms behind them, reclaim the lost land, and drive all the damned demons back beyond the Wall.

The people north of the Neck generally do not believe in the Seven Gods, but the High Septon stationed in the Starry Sept in Oldtown still sent three Septons to Winterfell to pray for the Seven Gods' mercy and bring their holy light to this land of heretics.

The Northerners did not stop them, only silently praying that the Old Gods could hear their pleas.

Now, for the Northerners, they are in a desperate situation. They are willing to believe in any god that can help.

Unfortunately, perhaps the Seven Gods are not willing to come to this land that generally does not believe in them. In the words of the zealous Septons, this place is full of heretics.

The Old Gods seem to have been truly forgotten by the ages. The desperate prayers of the Northerners received no response.

Year 292 AC, August.

More than half of the new year has passed in the blink of an eye, and the defeat at the Wall is still fresh in memory. Yet the White Walkers are once again at the gates.

The war broke out quickly.

The human alliance, having experienced the previous defeat, showed stronger resilience this time, stubbornly resisting the attack of the army of the dead.

They also prepared more fire oil and fire arrows, hoping to defeat these enemies who should have entered the seven hells with fire.

However, ordinary flames were not enough to defeat these terrifying enemies. The Night King extinguished a swath of flames, creating an icy road. Countless wights who feared the fire poured in from here, instantly breaking the alliance's line.

After the alliance's defeat, they retreated into Winterfell. However, the walls and gates could not stop these dead for too long. Eventually, the dead broke down the gate with their teeth and bodies.

The dead, one after another, climbed over the wall by stepping on the bodies of their companions, knocked down the human soldiers, and jumped into Winterfell.

The night was deep, the biting wind blew the rolling smoke, and the fire burned in Winterfell, illuminating the entire dark sky.

The North Gate and the Godswood fell in succession.

Then came the Broken Tower, the First Keep, and the armory.

"Kill!"

The soldiers of the alliance and the army of the dead launched a fierce street fight in Winterfell, fighting to the death.

As the lady of this castle, Catelyn Stark held her young son Brandon, pulled her little daughter Arya.

She also took the other three children, Robb, Jon, and Sansa, hurriedly got on the carriage, and prepared to flee south.

"King's Landing!"

"Catelyn, take our children and flee to King's Landing!"

"The further south, the better!"

Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, was covered in blood, holding the Valyrian greatsword

Ice, and with his hand on his wife's head, he gasped and spoke loudly.

The dignified and resilient woman couldn't help but shed tears at this moment.

"No matter what happens, don't come back. Keep running south, keep running south..."

"If King's Landing falls, flee to Storm's End. If Storm's End also falls, take a ship to Pentos."

Chapter 352: The Third Line of Defense of the Allied Forces

The voice of her husband still echoed in Catelyn's ears, telling her not to look back no matter what happened.

Even if he died here.

Eddard Stark told his wife to take their children and flee south.

To flee to the continent of Essos.

To the ends of the world.

But he was not prepared to leave. As a man, a lord, a husband, he was going to fight these White Walkers to defend his home.

"Kill!"

"Ah—"

Now Winterfell had become a chaotic battlefield, with cries of killing and screams everywhere, people blinded by bloodlust.

But when it came to this, Eddard Stark seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he gritted his teeth.

"Catelyn..."

Then Eddard leaned over and whispered a few words into his wife's ear.

"What?!"

Then, under Catelyn's incredulous gaze, Eddard gently kissed his wife's forehead.

"Charge with me!"

Then the man with dark brown hair raised his greatsword and, without any hesitation, returned to the battlefield.

Boom—

Soon after, with a loud noise, the Hunter's Gate fell.

"Roar—"

The army of the dead also poured in from the other side of Winterfell. The kennels and the library were gradually occupied by the wights. The soldiers of the allied forces fought desperately, gradually retreating to the main castle in the center of Winterfell, which was easy to defend but hard to attack.

The carriage carrying Lady Catelyn and the young Starks hastily left through the southern gate of Winterfell.

The carriage was protected by loyal guards of the Stark family, and they fled along the Kingsroad towards King's Landing.

…

A night of fierce battle passed in a flash.

The sky gradually turned white.

With the fall of the main castle of Winterfell, the allied forces were once again defeated in the war.

Some soldiers fled in panic to the cellars of Winterfell, guarding the Stark family's tomb, hoping that the ancestors of the Starks could save them.

Many more defeated soldiers fled from the southern gate of Winterfell, fleeing along the Kingsroad to Seagard, where the rear of the allied forces was located, with a large amount of supplies.

The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms who responded to the king's call to fight against the White Walkers learned their lesson this time. Seeing that things were going wrong, they decisively turned around and fled, leading their troops in a disorderly retreat on the Kingsroad. Now that the whole line was in disarray, everyone was running for themselves.

Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North, originally intended to die with Winterfell, but in the end, he was ordered by the king to be tied to a warhorse and forcibly taken away.

The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms ran ahead, while King Robert became the last man to fight.

The army retreated, abandoning the castles along the way. If they couldn't even hold Winterfell, let alone the castles along the way.

The human allied forces gathered excellent commanders from the Seven Kingdoms. In fact, after brainstorming, many commanders learned from the previous defeat, made up for many shortcomings, and were fully prepared for the fall of Winterfell.

The many commanders of the allied forces decided to place the third line of defense of the human army at the Neck, which is comparable to the formidable Wall.

However, compared to attacking from the south, it became much easier to capture the Bay of Seals from the north.

Even so, the allied forces still hope to stop the army of the dead through the chaotic waterways of the Neck and the swamps that once you get stuck in, you can't pull yourself out.

They can join forces with House Reed of Greywater Watch, these 'swamp demons' who live in the Neck all year round are very familiar with the chaotic waterways and small roads of the Neck, they may help the allied forces stop the footsteps of the army of the dead.

Now the commanders of the allied forces have also seen that it is very difficult to defeat the Night King with the power of the Seven Kingdoms alone.

They must rely on some great natural forces.

The Neck is the best defense line.

...

Before the Battle of Winterfell.

A red-robed witch from Asshai appeared in the tent of the allied forces.

She did not hide her identity, and directly told Robert that she was a follower of the Lord of Light, the true king.

She came to help the allied forces defeat the White Walkers, the common enemy of all mankind.

Melisandre revealed her identity, causing a stir in the great hall of the allied forces.

This was the first time since the Usurper's War, after Robert seized the Iron Throne, that a representative of House Targaryen stood in front of Robert Baratheon.

Once, although the Iron Throne knew that there was a second prince of the exiled Targaryen family across the Narrow Sea, even crowned as a king.

And Viserys, who fled with his mother from King's Landing to Dragonstone, and then fled to the continent of Essos after his mother's death, naturally knew who had taken their world.

However, the Targaryen family and the Baratheon family had been at odds, except for sending assassins to each other as a sign of respect, there was no other contact.

The Iron Throne pretended not to see the enemy across the Narrow Sea, even if some of its vassals were secretly in cahoots with the Targaryen family, they could only be powerless and furious, unable to find evidence.

Therefore, Melisandre's declaration of her identity naturally caused a stir.

But Robert is the king of the Seven Kingdoms after all, and he did not embarrass a woman on the surface, perhaps also to show his demeanor in front of the small council, there is a rule everywhere that envoys are not beheaded in front of the armies.

He can allow Melisandre to stay in the camp as a representative of the Targaryens, but he asks her to prove that she has the ability to help the allied forces win. The camp will not feed a useless woman.

Then Melisandre ignited a flame in the air, stunning everyone.

Her strength far surpassed that of an ordinary male soldier, naturally earning her the right to stay in the camp.

However, Melisandre was in a semi-house arrest state, naturally not allowed to freely disseminate information and wander around.

Then Melisandre proposed her plan to fight the Night King.

"To defeat the Night King, we need to take advantage of the weather, the terrain, and the people. We cannot lack any of these three conditions."

This was a phrase that Viserys had once casually mentioned. Melisandre felt that this phrase seemed to imply the truth, and she was so shocked that she secretly remembered it and used it here.

"There are only two true gods in the world. The Lord of Light represents light, heat, and life, while His mortal enemy is the God of Cold, representing darkness, cold , and death."

"For countless years, the coming of winter and summer has actually been an endless battle between the Lord of Light and the God of Cold."

Outside the castle, the cold wind was biting. Although the fireplace was burning with a raging fire, all the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms in the hall were wrapped in thick furs.

Yet Melisandre, wearing only a thin red robe, stood confidently in the center of the hall, her recent display of power naturally commanding attention.

She ignored the grim faces of the three archbishops representing the Faith of the Seven in the hall. These false god believers were powerless.

She also ignored the angry glares from the Northmen who worship the Old Gods.

Her words directly negated the Seven Gods and the Old Gods, how could they not be upset?

However, the red-robed witch slightly raised her delicate chin, her expression neither arrogant nor indifferent, but as if stating a fact.

She stood alone in the great hall of Winterfell, bearing the name of House Targaryen, and managed to silence the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms present.

Chapter 353: The Great Human Migration

"The arrival of summer signifies the Lord of Light gaining the upper hand, while the coming of winter represents the God of Cold seizing the advantage."

"The alliance must also seek help from my Lord. Ice and fire, the dragon's flame is the weapon that can directly confront the Night King. This is harmony."

Melisandre believes they can retreat to warmer areas, evacuate the local people, and adopt a scorched earth policy.

Instead of futilely struggling in these meaningless places, which would only increase casualties and damage morale, Winterfell is not a strong fortress and cannot be held.

The alliance can use the 'divine' power to suppress the existence of the God of Cold, simply put, to fight cold with heat.

Let the Night King come to the warm south, where he is suppressed and cannot fully exert his strength, then gather all strength to seize the opportunity to defeat him.

At the same time, the alliance must also seek help from Viserys, unite more people, this is the right time, the right place, and the right people, only then can they lead humanity to defeat the Night King.

However, although Melisandre's plan seems reasonable, it cannot be accepted by the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms and is impossible to implement.

They are unwilling to abandon their ancestral homes and retreat to the south to fight a life-and-death battle with the White Walkers. It's absurd to ask the Stark family to give up Winterfell.

And who knows if the Night King will really consume a lot of energy in the confrontation between cold and heat after he arrives in the south, and become somewhat weakened.

At present, the Night King's footsteps represent cold and death. Wherever the army of the dead goes, it brings blizzards and a sharp drop in temperature.

And to seek help from that second prince...

Many nobles looked at each other and secretly glanced at the central throne.

However, just looking at King Robert's ugly face, they knew it was impossible, but this time the fat king looked ugly, yet he said nothing.

Melisandre's plan was naturally rejected.

Then the Battle of Winterfell broke out. After the defeat of the alliance, they fled in all directions. The main force fled to the Bay of Seals, evacuating the people along the way who had not had time to evacuate.

The White Walkers came from the north, and the people of the North had been organized to migrate south with their families after the defeat at the Wall.

However, among them, there were people who were unwilling to leave their homes, thinking that the White Walkers were just a lie, stubbornly wanting to hold on. These people eventually got their wish and became part of the army of the dead.

"Line up! Line up!"

"Don't crowd!"

"You! What are you doing!"

Now the Bay of Seals was already overcrowded before the defeated army arrived. The once wide embankment was filled with the people of the North who had not had time to evacuate.

The soldiers of the alliance stationed here maintained order, ensuring that the elderly, women, and children could pass through the embankment as quickly as possible and reach the Riverlands.

The soldiers were nervously maintaining order, but among them, there were people who broke the rules, relying on their strong bodies to try to squeeze through, and were eventually pulled out by the soldiers of the alliance.

"Stop!"

"Get him out!"

There were even people who wanted to take the opportunity to break through the defense line and rush over the embankment. However, after a fight, bodies were everywhere, and these people's bodies were thrown into the mud to feed the lizard-lions.

The White Walkers were coming south, the alliance was defeated, everyone was panic-stricken, even the king had run away.

The North now was like a pond that had been drained of water, all the fish were exposed, jumping on the muddy beach.

The big and small fish hidden under the water in the North all came out, the Brotherhood on the wanted list in the past, robbers, and even the wildlings who had fled into the North when the Wall collapsed gradually emerged.

Everyone didn't want to die, including these robbers and wildlings, but they knew very well that once they showed up, they would undoubtedly die.

The great migration operation in the Bay of Seals was attacked and sabotaged by these robbers and wildlings several times.

However, although the soldiers of the alliance were repeatedly frustrated in the face of the White Walkers, they were after all regular troops and managed to control the chaotic situation.

"This is Lady Stark's carriage."

A dusty carriage bearing the Stark family's direwolf emblem arrived at the Bay of Seals, and the soldiers stationed here hurriedly let it pass.

"My lady."

However, the curtain of the carriage did not lift at all, and the Stark family's carriage hurriedly set foot on the embankment and left.

And the red-robed witch who disappeared after the Battle of Winterfell, surprisingly, appeared among the people crossing the Bay of Seals at this moment.

She was still wearing a thin red robe, her movements were full of charm, but there was no frivolity on the woman's cheeks.

Melisandre was riding alone on a date-red warhorse, no one knew how she escaped from the chaotic battlefield of Winterfell, and no one knew how she ran faster than the retreating army, and arrived at the Bay of Seals first.

"Who are you?"

The alliance soldier stationed at the Bay of Seals looked at Melisandre with a slightly furrowed brow, he instinctively felt that this woman was somewhat different.

However, he immediately noticed that she had come from the north in such cold winter wearing only a single garment, which confirmed his suspicion.

"I am a servant of the true Lord."

The red-robed witch said in a flat voice, but it made the soldier's brow furrow even more. He felt that this person was a bit mysterious, but there were too many people lining up behind him, and he didn't have time to scrutinize.

Moreover, she was just a woman, how much trouble could a woman cause?

The soldier had such a thought in his mind, then waved his hand.

"Alright, you can go."

The elderly, women, and children were given priority to pass through the Bay of Seals, Melisandre's identity met the criteria and there was not much obstruction.

Then the woman nodded slightly, riding her date-red warhorse into the long embankment.

"Father!"

A daughter who was separated cried out to her father who was shut outside the embankment.

"Be careful!"

There were people helping the fallen elderly to get up.

"Over here!"

"Over here!"

The embankment was noisy and chaotic, filled with disordered voices.

This was the largest population migration in the history of Westeros, and also an unprecedented great escape. All the people of the North were forced and called to flee south with their families.

The alliance wanted to defeat the Night King, the most important thing was to do a good job of scorched earth policy, otherwise, when the White Walkers swept the entire North, that would be the real beginning of the disaster.

No one can resist the advance of the million-strong army of the dead, the end of the world is probably just around the corner.

In the long embankment, both sides were waist-deep in silt

, emitting a foul smell. There were also huge flowers, lizard-lions, and many snakes. Dense bushes soaked in the swamp all year round, with curtain-like fungi hanging between the branches.

The Neck was full of dangers, the embankment was the only safe path. If you leave the embankment, there are things everywhere that can easily take your life.

The marching crowd was long, most of them carrying luggage, bringing their families, helping each other, and stretching as far as the eye could see.

Step by step...

In the chaotic crowd, Melisandre rode on horseback, following the crowd at a leisurely pace, quietly observing the surrounding scenery and the various states of life, then couldn't help but start to sing.

"We mortals, born and die alone, lost and hesitant, wandering in the dark valley;

Blessed to have brethren, gather and march, blessed to have the true Lord, to overflow us."

The woman's voice was cold and melodious, quickly resonating with the old and young present. Although they didn't understand what the woman was singing, they still sang along.

The night is long, the journey through the Neck is still long, and Melisandre's influence among these old people, women, and children gradually expands.

...

Far away from here, in Pentos.

It has been several months since His Majesty the King left his throne, and the news of the alliance and the White Walkers fighting in Westeros came like snowflakes.

Oberyn, acting as the Hand of the King, deals with a large amount of official business every day, while responding to various calls for help from the Seven Kingdoms.

However, Viserys has not returned for a long time, and the Targaryen army dare not move a day. The young king is the banner of the country, the most important and core part of the whole machine.

And now, a huge figure that blocked the sky appeared in the sky of Pentos in the early morning.

Chapter 354: Return

"Who would have thought that the nobles of Westeros would be beaten black and blue by the White Walkers before we even had a chance to strike."

Inside the palace atop the Nine Towers of Pentos.

Princess Rhaenys, dressed in a magnificent silver gown, her brown hair cascading down to her slender waist, sat on the throne in the center of the great hall, listening to reports from across the Narrow Sea.

Rhaenys' pretty face was full of seriousness, giving her a somewhat queenly demeanor. A silver dragon head badge was pinned to her chest, symbolizing her status as a member of House Targaryen.

Her uncle, Oberyn, dressed in a black and gold robe with the Hand of the King badge pinned to his chest, stood by her side, calmly observing the commotion below.

The speaker was Mys Toyn, commander of the Fourth Legion, formerly of the Golden Company, now one of the Legion commanders.

Ever since the soldiers of the Golden Company received the pardon written by Viserys himself, they had been eagerly awaiting the day they could attack Westeros.

They wished to return to the homeland where their ancestors had lived, to reclaim their ancestors' glory.

Now, news of the Seven Kingdoms' alliance battling the White Walkers was flying in like snowflakes, undoubtedly the most closely watched news, including by the Free Cities.

Pentos, being the closest city on the continent of Essos to King's Landing, naturally had the most up-to-date information.

The alliance was defeated.

The loss of two major battles quickly turned the northern region of the entire kingdom into a real hell on earth.

No one could survive where the White Walkers passed, and the rolling tide of the dead did not stop, but continued to march towards the warm south. An unprecedented great human migration was also underway.

Those staying in Pentos could not imagine what the White Walkers, wights, and the army of the dead were.

Why would the dead rise?

However, they only knew that the Baratheon dynasty was defeated, the entire North was completely lost, and the Iron Throne was in an unprecedented state of weakness.

Now is the best opportunity for the Targaryens to send troops to Westeros and reclaim the Iron Throne. The soldiers were eager to fight for honor and make a name for themselves, hoping to be knighted, and leap from commoners to the nobility in one step.

Viserys' new policy encourages commoners to be ennobled through military service, so the Targaryen army has an unprecedented desire for war. Everyone wants to change their fate.

But unfortunately, the king disappeared at this time, disappearing for several months with his dragon.

In the months since Viserys left, Pentos has been calm. The 5,000 Unsullied, city guards, Dothraki, First Legion, Second Legion, Fourth Legion, the complex and interlocking forces under Targaryen's command, are all interconnected and any movement in one part could affect the whole. There could be no disturbances.

They all obeyed Princess Rhaenys, and Rhaenys, taking advice from her uncle Oberyn, had been actively preparing for war, hoarding supplies, training soldiers, and waiting for her 'brother' to return.

"It seems these noble lords don't have much ability."

"Haha, indeed."

There were whispers in the hall agreeing with Mys Toyn's words, the atmosphere seemed relaxed, they felt the enemies across the Narrow Sea were easy to defeat.

However, the important officials standing in the front row, such as Hand of the King Oberyn, Master of Coin Illyrio, and Master of Laws Jon Connington, remained silent.

They knew that the Baratheon dynasty was not weak. The alliance of the wolf, stag, fish, and falcon formed the foundation of this country, overthrowing the Targaryen dynasty in its twilight years.

The Lannister family produced a queen, and now the Tyrell roses have also joined the Baratheon family through marriage, becoming part of the alliance. Even King Robert has betrothed Princess Myrcella to Prince Quentyn Martell of Dorne.

The whole country is as solid as a rock, in an unprecedented period of prosperity.

Yet such a dynasty, recovering from the shadows of the usurper's war and at its zenith, was beaten bloody when faced with the White Walkers.

This is enough to illustrate how terrifying this enemy of all mankind is.

"Do not underestimate our enemies, my lords."

At this moment, the girl sitting on the throne took a deep breath and spoke.

As soon as she spoke, the whole hall fell silent.

"Whether it's the White Walkers or the usurpers, they are not enemies to be taken lightly."

"The usurpers once defeated my father, and the White Walkers created the Long Night eight thousand years ago..."

Rhaenys' voice echoed in the great hall.

And Jon Connington, standing in the front row below, looked up at the girl sitting on the throne, speaking confidently, and nodded slightly, approving in his heart.

The princess is indeed the daughter of Prince Rhaegar, she indeed has her father's demeanor.

And at this moment.

A deep, melodious dragon roar suddenly came from the horizon, accompanied by the morning sun, spreading across the entire sky of Pentos.

The bustling crowds on the streets, vendors, patrolling Unsullied soldiers, slaves, and others all looked up, causing a bit of commotion, looking towards the sky.

And Rhaenys, who was sitting on the throne acting as regent, also paused for a moment, the courtiers in the hall also looked at each other.

If the dragons did not receive orders from the princesses, they would not easily appear in Pentos to disturb the lives of the common people, and dragons are not suitable for city life, they should be allowed to hunt on their own.

Viserion and Rhaegal had not appeared in the sight of the people of Pentos for a long time, without their big brother's discipline, the two dragons had become much wilder.

"It's not Rhaegal or Viserion, then this is..."

Rhaenys and her uncle Oberyn looked at each other.

Then the girl quickly stood up from the throne, and at this moment, a guard rushed in to report.

"Princess!"

...

"Your Majesty!"

"Your Majesty!"

Balerion landed in the square outside the palace, because the parade ground inside the palace was no longer large enough to accommodate this giant creature.

However, the unexpected landing of the black dragon outside the palace attracted a crowd, countless people from Pentos crowded around to watch, loudly greeting Viserys.

During Viserys' absence from Pentos, the people were very worried about this young king.

They were worried that if anything happened to Viserys, the good days they were living now would come to an end.

After all, no noble would treat the lower class people as well as he did, and the people truly supported Viserys.

Chapter 355: The Situation

Viserys, clad in gleaming Valyrian steel armor, his silver-gold curls cascading over his armor, was a sight to behold. His handsome face, high nose, violet eyes, and warm smile made him a heartthrob for many.

Viserys hopped off the dragon's back, waving to the crowd of onlookers.

"Pentos is more prosperous than I imagined," he remarked.

Mia, following closely behind him, was seeing Pentos for the first time. The city's prosperity and strength, viewed from the sky, had left her astonished. The towering white city walls, the massive red temple, the orderly square brick towers, the bustling port, and the palace at the top of the hill overlooking the sea, with its soft sandy beach below, all contributed to the city's grandeur. Pentos was even more prosperous than her hometown of Volantis.

Pentos had always been economically strong, though militarily weak. Now, with the Targaryens in power, the city's weaknesses had been addressed. Viserys had brought a powerful army. With wealth and a strong military, Pentos had risen to prominence, surpassing Volantis and firmly securing the second position among the Free Cities. It even had the potential to challenge Braavos for the top spot.

The knight, clad in a bright lady's armor with a snow-white cape draped over her shoulders, held a plain white shield in one hand and a simple longsword at her waist. She exuded an air of gallantry.

"You're quite popular in Pentos," she observed, looking around curiously at the people of Pentos who were cheering for Viserys.

Viserys simply smiled, "Having the support of the people is the foundation of a king. If a king doesn't have the people's support, that's a big problem."

"You're right," the knight agreed, nodding thoughtfully.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

The soldiers outside the palace, seeing Viserys and the unfamiliar white-robed knight, quickly saluted.

Boom!

The palace doors were pushed open.

Inside the palace, everyone had already come out under the leadership of Princess Rhaenys to welcome them.

Seeing Viserys, Rhaenys ran over and gave him a big hug, "Viserys, you're finally back."

Rhaenys held Viserys tightly, feeling the cold Valyrian steel armor on his body. Viserys, in turn, ruffled her hair. This time, Rhaenys didn't cry. Perhaps she had gotten used to Viserys's departures, or perhaps she had grown up and understood the need to maintain the dignity of a princess.

Mia stood behind Viserys, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other holding her plain white shield. She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and chest. She noticed many people watching Viserys and the girl hugging, and also casting curious glances at her.

This girl must be Rhaenys...

Mia thought to herself. Viserys had mentioned her before they arrived. He had a niece, Rhaenys, who was left in charge of the kingdom, and they were very close. He also had a younger sister, Daenerys, but she was still young.

Viserys then released Rhaenys and looked around at the familiar faces.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

Everyone was curious about where Viserys had gone and why he had been out of touch for several months. Even Rhaenys didn't know that he had gone to explore the Valyrian ruins.

Viserys didn't explain anything, he simply nodded and introduced the knight to everyone.

"This is Ser Mia, a member of the Kingsguard I knighted during my journey."

"Ser."

"Ser Mia."

The fact that Viserys had brought back a female Kingsguard member surprised everyone. If they remembered correctly, this was the first female member in the history of the Kingsguard.

However, Viserys was known for his strong leadership in the new dynasty, so even though the council members were a bit surprised, especially Jon Connington who seemed to want to say something, they didn't voice their thoughts.

Viserys then briefly introduced Mia to the others present, and she greeted them in return. Then, they all returned to the great hall.

Viserys naturally sat back on his throne, and an attendant brought a chair for Rhaenys to sit beside him. Mia, the white-robed knight, stood behind her king, her hand on the hilt of her sword. As a seasoned mercenary, Mia was an excellent swordsman.

Her skills were practical and deadly, honed through countless battles. She could single-handedly kill the creatures in the Valyrian ruins. Although she was a woman, she was probably a match for anyone present, except perhaps Oberyn. Jon might be on par with her, but his talents lay elsewhere.

Viserys listened to Rhaenys's report on the recent events in Pentos and the latest news from across the Narrow Sea.

"The entire North has fallen?" Viserys asked, his face turning serious upon hearing Rhaenys's words. The
rapid development of the war in Westeros had taken him by surprise. He had thought that the Baratheon dynasty, in its prime, would be able to hold its own against the White Walkers. But they had suffered defeat after defeat, and were now retreating to their third line of defense, the Neck.

"If the Neck falls, we'll be in real trouble," he said. Without the Neck as a barrier, the White Walkers would have free rein over the 'maiden' - the vast, flat lands of the south.

"So, do we march now, Your Grace?" Mys Toyn asked eagerly, his spirits lifted.

Chapter 356: Aftermath

Viserys returned with five dragon eggs, a fact known to only a few. However, with the frequent exchange of information between the Free Cities, the news spread like wildfire, reaching Pentos just a little slower than the dragon itself.

There were sightings of a black dragon over the Smoking Sea, but without the presence of its young master. The dragon had even attacked a small ship. Later, a massive creature was spotted near the Sea of Sighs, but no one dared to approach close enough to see if there was anyone with the dragon.

Given the size of Balerion, it was impossible to hide completely. Dragons had been extinct for hundreds of years, and only three were known to exist. If this black dragon was not wild, it was likely to belong to the young dragon lord.

When did Viserys Targaryen quietly appear near Volantis and the Summer Isles?

With the recent anomalies in the Smoking Sea, the spreading grey mist consuming the ocean and land, people realized that the king had been exploring the ruins of Valyria during his disappearance.

Unlike other explorers who emerged from the ruins of Valyria, boasting of their success and selling the treasures they found at high prices, Viserys kept a low profile.

When scholars dug deeper, revealing the Targaryen lineage as the only intact family from the forty ancient families of Old Valyria, the mystery around them deepened. The other families had survivors, but their lineages were tainted and not pure. Only the Targaryens maintained the sacred traditions of the ancient nobility.

Those who had seen Viserys claimed that he bore the distinct features of Valyrian nobility, especially in adulthood. His extraordinary beauty was a testament to his noble and pure bloodline.

Scholars from Volantis, particularly those from the Elephant Party, mocked the Tiger Party for their failed expedition, claiming they had not learned from their past mistakes. They suggested that the Targaryens, with their intact lineage, might hold the answers to the mysteries of the Doom and even the safe passage into the ruins.

These speculations thrust Viserys into the spotlight.

Many who were unfamiliar with the history of Valyria were surprised to learn of the Targaryen's prestigious lineage. The fact that Viserys could ride a dragon into the ruins of Valyria and emerge unscathed seemed more understandable.

People speculated wildly about the treasures Viserys might have found in the ruins, expressing envy and imagining what it would be like if they had found a Valyrian steel sword or a dragon egg, becoming a great noble with loyal soldiers and a hatched dragon soaring in the sky...

Viserys' success sparked a renewed interest in exploring the ruins of Valyria.

However, Viserys was unaware of the stir he had caused in Volantis. He had no time to worry about those who were eager to risk their lives in the ruins of Valyria.

At the moment, he was in the Kingswood outside of Andalos.

A few days ago, he had flown back to the place where his dream began, with two girls. Rhaenys and Daenerys each rode their dragons, equipped with the unique dragon-riding gear that Tobho Mott had made for Viserys.

This gear ensured that the dragon riders could sit securely on their dragons, even during aerial combat, and provided some comfort with the finest furs and soft padding. After all, the most uncomfortable thing about riding a dragon was the discomfort caused by the dragon scales.

With this gear, Viserys felt confident letting Rhaenys and Daenerys ride their dragons. Although Rhaegal and Viserion were not as intelligent as Balerion, they would never harm their companions.

Then, Viserys, riding the black dragon Balerion, Rhaenys on the green dragon Rhaegal, and Daenerys on the white dragon Viserion, the members of the Targaryen family all rode their dragons, leaving Pentos and returning to Andalos.

Aegon watched as the three dragons flew into the sky, eventually becoming a small dot and disappearing from everyone's sight. He felt a mix of emotions.

He had once been welcomed back by his uncle with great fanfare, as if they wanted the whole world to know. However, after the last scandal, all of this had vanished.

His presence within the family was becoming increasingly insignificant.

Chapter 357: Dragon Hatching

In the distant Andalos, outside the city, within the royal forest.

This area was once designated by Viserys as a restricted zone, where no hunters from nearby villages or passing merchants could enter this vast forest.

The reason for the King's prohibition was well known to the local villagers. Everyone could tell you.

Because this was where the Targaryen family raised their dragons.

This was hardly a secret.

The locals living nearby often heard deafening dragon roars from deep within the forest at night, and frequently saw the silhouettes of dragons circling in the sky above the forest during the day.

Even this had become a unique local sight.

The existence of the Targaryen dragon-keeping area attracted spies from all over the world to come and investigate.

However, their outcomes were mostly unfavorable.

If they weren't captured by the patrol and thrown into jail, they went in and never came out, becoming a small snack for the dragons.

But recently, these spies' enthusiasm for the royal forest had waned somewhat, because all the dragons living here had left, following their masters to Pentos.

And now, Viserys, with two girls, riding three dragons, had returned to the royal forest.

At this moment, they were at the core of this boundless forest, the deepest part. This was a vast flat land, a square kilometer in size, enough for three dragons to stretch their bodies.

And unusually, there were signs of human construction. Here, dragon lairs were built, the ground was flat, and there was a quiet small lake.

Three dragons had left for a long time, but their might still lingered, and no animals dared to approach, perhaps because the dragons' scent remained here.

At this moment, Balerion and Viserion were resting not far away, while the lively Rhaegal had flown away to hunt.

And beside Viserys and the two girls, a bonfire was lit, and five dragon eggs of different colors but the same size were neatly arranged beside him.

"Brother, do you want to hatch the dragon eggs?"

The girl with silver hair had her beautiful cheeks illuminated by the firelight, and her light purple eyes were shining. She looked at the neatly arranged five dragon eggs, then took the initiative to speak.

"Let me do it."

Daenerys had haphazardly hatched three dragon eggs in her sleep once and had wanted to try again ever since, but unfortunately, there were no dragon eggs for her to experiment with.

However, when Viserys heard his sister's words, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"No need."

His true dragon bloodline was now purer than Daenerys's, and hatching dragon eggs was a piece of cake for him.

"Do you not want your hair and eyebrows that have finally grown back?"

Then Viserys couldn't help but tease. Little Dany had her hair and eyebrows burned off at that time, and she only had a bald head. When Viserys saw her, she was wearing a hat and veil and didn't want to see anyone.

Reminded of the past, Rhaenys on the side couldn't help but chuckle, then was glared at by Daenerys.

"Hmph—"

The girl pouted a bit aggrievedly.

But on the other side, after Rhaenys couldn't help but laugh, her smile slowly faded, and she sighed softly in the end.

Daenerys could hatch dragons, Viserys could too, but she couldn't.

Actually, sometimes she had the same thoughts as Aegon, that is, she felt a sudden sense of alienation.

Although they were all family and had the same surname, Viserys and Daenerys both had very distinct family traits, silver hair, violet eyes, only she...

She had brown hair and dark eyes, inheriting her mother's family traits.

Sometimes Rhaenys would secretly complain to herself why she didn't look like a 'Targaryen'?

But when she thought of the tragedy that happened in King's Landing when she was still ignorant, she couldn't complain about anything.

But fortunately, Viserys was quite considerate and could always detect when the girl was self-pitying, and then quietly extended a helping hand to pull her out of the whirlpool of thoughts.

He didn't use words but actual results, the trust shown, to tell her that we are a family.

Then Viserys put all five dragon eggs into the blazing fire, and the five prepared death row prisoners were also thrown in, emitting a horrible scream.

"Turn your heads."

Viserys said calmly, but Rhaenys shook her head.

"It's okay, I've personally burned so many people."

Rhaenys had personally ridden a dragon to burn the Dothraki, and she had seen a real big scene.

The girl grew up very quickly, from being pale and almost vomiting at that time, to now just looking a little bad, but still able to handle it calmly.

And Daenerys, who was originally reluctant, had already closed her eyes, but after hearing Rhaenys's words, she clenched her fists lightly, secretly cheering herself on.

Then she opened her eyes, forcing herself to watch the death row prisoners being burned to death in the sea of fire.

Daenerys may seem weak, but she is actually very strong-willed.

She didn't want to be weaker than Rhaenys.

When Rhaenys was able to go to the battlefield, she didn't know how envious she was. She also hoped that she could grow up quickly and become a useful person.

The choices of the two girls surprised him a bit. The death row prisoners screamed horribly in the sea of fire, and even Viserys had a moment of pity.

However, these five death row prisoners were all notorious robbers extracted from the Andalos prison. Thinking of their past deeds, Viserys became heartless.

His face didn't change, he calmly watched as the five death row prisoners turned into vengeful flame spirits.

Born from fire, life exchanged, the last remaining condition was the true dragon bloodline.

With a swoosh, Viserys drew the Valyrian steel dagger from his waist.

Since reaching the transcendent realm, Viserys's own defense had greatly increased. He hadn't been injured for a long time, and it wasn't easy for ordinary blades to hurt him.

Viserys held the Valyrian steel dagger and lightly cut a wound on his finger. Blood instantly welled up.

Then he smeared the fresh blood from his hand onto the dragon eggs one by one. The blood was quickly absorbed by the eggshell. This absorption of true dragon blood was even more efficient than being roasted in the fire.

Viserys was now also immune to fire. His fingers freely moved through the flames. What made him stronger than Daenerys was that he didn't even burn the hair on his hands. Being enveloped by the flames felt as comfortable as soaking in a hot spring.

Not far away, as if sensing something, Balerion and Viserion, who were resting on the ground, simultaneously raised their heads and looked over.

Crack—

The next second, the sound of the eggshell cracking was clearly audible.

Chapter 358: Female Dragon

Crack—

The clear sound of a dragon egg breaking echoed.

Viserys's gaze immediately fell on the first egg to hatch.

It was a red egg, like a blazing flame, its surface even adorned with a layer of scales.

Rhaenys and Daenerys also turned their attention to it, their hearts slightly lifted.

Although Daenerys had once hatched dragons, she had been asleep at the time, acting in her dreams. This was the first time any of them had seen what a dragon looked like as it hatched.

The red egg continued to shake violently, the cracks on its surface becoming more and more dense, covering the entire egg.

Crack—

Then, with a crisp sound, a small head covered in red scales was the first to emerge.

With its big watery eyes, it greedily breathed in the outside air. It seemed like it had been suffocating inside for a long time.

"So cute!"

The two girls on the scene saw the adorable appearance of the baby dragon and their eyes sparkled with stars.

"Squeak—"

The red baby dragon that had just emerged from the eggshell struggled in the eggshell, seemingly wanting to break out completely, while making a sharp squeak, like a large mouse. This left Viserys slightly taken aback.

"Do baby dragons sound so unpleasant?"

He turned his head to ask Daenerys, but the silver-haired girl wasn't very clear herself. She then looked at Rhaenys, as she had been asleep at the time.

Rhaenys hesitated slightly, then shook her head.

She remembered that when Balerion, Rhaegal, and Viserion first hatched, they let out the roar of dragons.

"Could this not be a dragon?"

"That's impossible."

However, everyone present was seeing a baby dragon hatch for the first time and didn't understand all the circumstances. They could only continue to watch patiently.

They then saw the first baby dragon to hatch struggling in the eggshell, seemingly having its neck stuck by the shell.

Viserys's brow relaxed slightly, and he reached out to help it.

However, at this moment, a deep roar from Balerion came from above his head.

"Roar—"

The sand was stirred up, and a huge shadow that blocked the sky and sun covered the ground.

The two giant dragons sat in a row behind the three people, stretching their long necks and coldly observing the hatching of the dragon eggs.

Balerion conveyed a strong will in Viserys's mind to stop him from doing so.

The shell of a dragon egg is extremely hard. The hatching of a dragon is the first test given by the gods to this creature that defies the heavens.

Understanding Balerion's meaning, Viserys stopped his hand. He then saw the baby dragon that had hatched first, struggling hard to twist its body, bursting out with a strong will, and finally squeezed a larger hole in the eggshell.

Then it opened its mouth and bit down hard on the eggshell.

Crack—

The hard dragon eggshell seemed to suddenly become vulnerable under this little guy's 'sharp teeth', being bitten off a large piece, then chewed up and swallowed.

"So, they eat their eggshells."

At this time, Rhaenys, who was watching from the side, exclaimed softly.

She kept her voice very low, fearing to disturb this red baby dragon who was the first to hatch.

When Balerion and his two brothers hatched, Rhaenys had ordered the entire main castle to be cleaned up after the fire, but they never found the remains of the dragon eggshells in the ruins.

She thought at the time that someone had secretly picked them up, but didn't take it too seriously, after all, it was just a shell.

But now it seems that the first step of a dragon hatching is to eat all of its own shell.

The red dragon that hatched first greedily gnawed at its own shell, as if it was some kind of delicacy.

During this process, its scales seemed to become more and more shiny, reflecting the light of metal, and from the soft appearance when it first hatched, it suddenly became erect.

"It seems that the shell of a dragon egg is the best supplement for a baby dragon, and it seems to contain magical power."

Viserys calmly observed the changes in the red dragon, noticing that its body was slender, its bones delicate, but its eyes were slightly fierce.

"Could this little one be a female dragon?"

A thought suddenly moved in the young silver-haired man's heart.

He had once worried about the future reproduction of the three brothers. Balerion, Rhaegal, and Viserion were all males, so they were strong and competitive, with a strong desire to fight.

But as strong as they were, three male dragons couldn't produce dragon babies, couldn't reproduce and continue their species. After all, they were now the last three dragons in the world.

Viserys didn't want the dragon species to become extinct again in the future. Therefore, for the continuation of this race, finding a female dragon was a must for him.

However, there are three mainstream conjectures in the world about the reproduction of dragons.

The first conjecture believes that dragons have no gender distinction. 'The Blessed King' Jaehaerys I's Hand of the King, Septon Barth, held this view, believing that 'the gender of a dragon may be as changeable as dragon flame'.

The second conjecture is that dragons may show a certain gender at certain stages due to special reasons, but it may not be fixed for life.

The third is that dragons, like other species, are divided into males and females.

And Viserys got clear information from Balerion that he is a male dragon, and so are his two brothers.

However, Viserys didn't see any obvious male reproductive organs on Balerion, and Balerion couldn't speak, he could only convey simple emotions and couldn't explain clearly.

But one thing is certain, if the dragon species wants to continue, the existence of female dragons is still needed.

Viserys once had a bold guess that dragons are very likely to reproduce asexually. Without fertilization, female dragons can produce dragon eggs on their own, and male dragons are mainly responsible for fighting with enemies and defending their homes.

The Targaryen family's records left on Dragonstone did not prove this, but only explained that dragons indeed have the behavior of hatching eggs.

If there are female dragons in the family, regardless of whether it is her egg, she will be willing to hatch it, without the need for members of the Targaryen family to hatch the eggs themselves.

Dragons can lay at least five eggs at a time.

The five dragon eggs that Viserys got from the Valyrian ruins are very likely to be a brood laid by a female dragon. They have a common mother.

While the little red dragon was gnawing at its shell in the fire, another golden dragon egg next to it also began to shake.

Crack—

A crack appeared in the eggshell.

Chapter 359: The Four Dragon Siblings

The red dragonling was the first to hatch, leading its siblings and becoming the eldest among the many young dragons.

Not to be outdone, the dragon in the fifth egg, a golden one, stubbornly broke its shell with its head, then struggled out of the shell.

The moment it emerged, it let out a youthful roar, seemingly dissatisfied with not being the first to hatch.

Then, its gaze fell on Balerion, who was squatting behind the three humans. The enormous Black Dread radiated intense heat, with molten gold flowing between the gaps in his scales, even emitting steam.

His large, crimson eyes were calm, coldly observing the birth of his descendants.

The second dragonling locked eyes with Balerion and immediately shrank its neck.

Its dissatisfied roar also lost its steam halfway, turning into a couple of whimpers.

Its body was covered in golden scales, reflecting dazzling light in the fire, like a rising sun.

"This little one is truly beautiful," Rhaenys sincerely admired, looking at the dragonling up close.

Then, just like the red dragonling, the golden one bit into its shell and began to eat it.

As it ate its shell, the scales on its body became even more radiant.

The first was a red female dragonling, and the second to hatch was a golden male dragonling.

Not long after the second dragon hatched, the third and fourth eggs began to tremble almost simultaneously.

"Another dragon is about to hatch," they exchanged glances. All, including Viserys, didn't have much time to observe the beautiful golden dragonling, as the next two eggs started to stir.

"Who will be the third brother or sister?" Viserys's gaze was locked on the two trembling eggs.

One was a deep blue egg, as profound as the ocean, with a vague, whirlpool-like pattern. The other was a light green egg, as transparent and shiny as a pearl, more like a gem or a piece of art than a dragon egg or a stone.

Both eggs began to struggle to hatch almost simultaneously.

However, the two struggling eggs didn't leave much suspense for everyone.

Crack—

The deep blue egg, as profound as the ocean, was the first to crack open, followed by the transparent, pearl-like green egg.

Then, the deep blue dragonling struggled to hatch first, biting its shell with some effort, panting slightly.

She had deep blue scales and a somewhat slender body, with calm and gentle eyes, appearing to be a gentle dragonling.

On the other side, the pearl-like green dragonling also hatched. Seeing her siblings hatch before her, she seemed a bit disheartened.

Then, turning her sadness into strength, she opened her mouth and bit her shell hard, seeming to resent her shell for being so hard.

After swallowing her shell, the slender light green dragonling began to eat her shell, her cheeks bulging and then swallowing.

As the light green dragonling swallowed her shell, her dragon horns, the row of sharp bones on her neck, and her wing bones gradually became transparent, reflecting dazzling, colorful light like a crystal.

"Is this a crystal dragon?"

As Viserys saw the change in the fourth dragonling after she ate her shell, his eyes narrowed slightly.

While Daenerys and Rhaenys were focused on the beautiful little crystal dragon, Viserys's gaze fell on the third sister of the dragon siblings.

He watched the change in the deep blue dragonling after she ate her shell. However, while the other siblings' scales became brighter after eating their shells, only she seemed to have a reverse breakthrough. The little light she had seemed to disappear after eating her shell, making her look like an ugly duckling.

If she curled up, she might even be mistaken for a stone.

However, the deep blue dragonling didn't seem to be discouraged. After eating her shell, she stayed quietly in place, not actively interacting with her elder sister, second brother, or fourth sister.

Four of the five dragon eggs had successfully hatched.

So, everyone's and the dragons' attention was focused on the last dragon egg.

It was a silver egg, which seemed to have no movement so far.

Was it asleep?

Chapter 360:   Chapter 360: Naming

"This dragon egg..." Rhaenys intertwined her fingers, expressing a hint of worry.

"Could it be a dead egg?" Viserys furrowed his brows slightly. Indeed, this was a possibility. Not every dragon egg hatches successfully. Encountering such a situation would be nothing short of bad luck.

Balerion, too, seemed to have lost interest in the proceedings. With heavy steps, he returned to his resting spot.

Even if the hatchling within the silver egg managed to break free, it would still be the last of its clutch. In the world of dragons, the last to hatch is often the least regarded.

The firstborn, a red dragon, was the healthiest, followed by the golden one. Who would be the third was the focus of attention for all present. However, the two struggling eggs did not keep everyone in suspense for long.

Crack—

The deep blue egg, as profound as the ocean, was the first to show a crack. Then, the pearl-like green egg also developed a fissure. The deep blue hatchling was the first to struggle out of its shell, appearing somewhat out of breath from the effort. She had deep blue scales, a slender body, and calm, gentle eyes, suggesting a mild temperament.

The green hatchling, appearing somewhat dismayed at being the fourth to hatch, bit into her shell with a vengeance, as if blaming it for being so hard. After eating her shell, her horns, the row of sharp bones on her neck, and her wing bones gradually became translucent, reflecting dazzling, multicolored light.

"Is this a crystal dragon?" Viserys, seeing the transformation of the fourth hatchling after eating her shell, was slightly taken aback.

"Wow, this dragon is really beautiful, even more so than the golden one just now," Daenerys exclaimed, her purple eyes sparkling with amazement.

"Heh—" Behind the three, Viserion, the white dragon squatting next to his elder brother, seemed slightly displeased at his companion's words and let out a roar. However, Viserion, always of good temperament and elegant in his movements, like a noble gentleman, merely expressed his dissatisfaction before returning to his calm observation of the hatchlings.

The birth of the crystal dragon was indeed astonishing, even if she was the fourth to hatch. The third and fourth were both female dragons, and the unassuming deep blue dragon was also a female. After eating her shell, she didn't undergo a dramatic transformation like the crystal dragon. Instead, her scales became even deeper, their luster receding, calm as a still well.

"An inverse breakthrough?" As Rhaenys and Daenerys focused their attention on the beautiful crystal dragon, Viserys' gaze fell on the third sister of the dragon siblings. He watched as the deep blue hatchling ate her shell, but unlike her siblings, whose scales became brighter after eating their shells, hers seemed to undergo an inverse breakthrough. After eating her shell, the little light she had seemed to disappear, making her look like an ugly duckling. If she coiled up, she might even be mistaken for a rock.

However, the deep blue hatchling didn't seem disheartened. After eating her shell, she stayed quietly in place, not actively interacting with her elder sister, elder brother, or younger sister.

Four of the five dragon eggs had successfully hatched. Thus, all eyes, human and dragon alike, turned to the last egg. It was a silver egg, which so far had shown no signs of movement.

Was it asleep?

Chapter 361: Names of Ancient Gods

The prerequisite to becoming a dragon's companion is to possess the dragon king's bloodline that the dragon recognizes. At present, the three of them each have their own dragons.

The relationship between a dragon and its dragon rider is akin to a marriage, their loyalty to each other often surpassing that of many humans. Only when the dragon rider dies in battle, from illness, or old age, does the dragon seek its next companion. And only when their dragon dies while the dragon rider is still alive, can they seek another suitable dragon. Therefore, the three of them will not become the dragon riders of the four young dragons.

However, because Viserys personally hatched the dragon eggs, the four young dragons regard him as their 'father' and have a special connection with him, just like the three large dragons have with Daenerys.

At present, the Targaryen family members are only the three of them here. Viserys has never considered Aegon's situation. Riding a dragon also requires the approval of the dragon. Aegon has interacted with Balerion, but it is clear that Balerion has not taken him seriously. Either his Targaryen bloodline is too thin, or he does not have the bloodline of the dragon king at all, even though he has silver hair and purple eyes.

Although Rhaenys inherited more of her mother's appearance and does not look like a Targaryen, her Targaryen bloodline is also pure, after all, her father is the elder brother of Viserys and Daenerys.

Thinking about it this way, Viserys suddenly realized that the future partners of these four young dragons are likely to be the offspring of the three of them present.

Perhaps when their children grow up, the four young dragons that are learning to walk will have grown into even larger creatures than Balerion is now.

They are the founding ancestors of the new Targaryen dynasty, and the future of the family will be passed down from them.

Viserys glanced at Daenerys and Rhaenys, suddenly feeling unsure of how to explain, after all, except for his own coming of age ceremony, the two girls are not yet adults.

Then the silver-haired youth chose to remain silent.

Viserys did not speak, and Daenerys also hesitated for a moment.

She indeed had no better ideas, naming a dragon should be done with heart.

After all, dragons are very smart. If they find out in the future that their name is a mess given by her, wouldn't they come to kill her?

Daenerys hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the last young dragon with crystal-clear horns on her head and said.

"She is so beautiful, how about calling her Pearl?"

When Viserys and Rhaenys heard the name Daenerys had given, they both raised their hands to their foreheads in unison.

"Forget it, you better not name them."

Then Rhaenys sighed.

"Hmph, if you don't want me to, I won't."

Daenerys saw that both of them were mocking the name she had given, and her little face turned a little black.

With the increase in age, Daenerys was no longer as shy as she was when she was a child, and her personality had become much more lively.

Rhaenys pondered for a moment. She was a few years older than Daenerys and was currently studying hard to increase her knowledge at Viserys's request.

Viserys did not treat the two girls as vases, but trained them as heirs, hoping that they could stand on their own in the future.

Then Rhaenys suddenly thought of a name and said.

"Brother, your dragon is named Balerion, I remember it was named after an ancient god of Valyria, right?"

In private, Rhaenys was more accustomed to calling Viserys brother.

Viserys was slightly stunned, then nodded, he seemed to guess Rhaenys's idea.

"Yes."

"You want to"

"We can name the remaining dragons after the ancient gods of Valyria."

There are many ancient gods in Valyrian culture, including the faceless goddess with a unicorn head that Viserys collected, and the remaining ones are Vhagar, Meraxes, and Syrax, etc.

If all the dragons are named after the ancient gods of Valyria, it would undoubtedly show an extremely ambitious ambition, not just wanting to recapture the Iron Throne, but even intending to restore the territory of the Valyrian Freehold, as far as the Ghiscari Empire area, the trade city-states are actually all grown up from the corpse of Valyria.

Viserys pondered for a moment, then finally nodded slightly.

"Okay."

Name all four dragons after the ancient gods of Valyria.

"Then the first red young dragon will be called Vhagar."

Viserys looked at the eldest sister among the four brothers and sisters of the dragon family. The red young dragon was the first to hatch. Although her body is slender, her eyes are sharp, and she looks extremely fierce. She is destined to be a 'Iron Lady' in the future.

The name Vhagar is from an ancient female deity of Valyria, and she is also the largest female dragon in the history of Westeros, her longevity almost comparable to Balerion's.

During the period of the Dance of the Dragons, it was said that Vhagar's roar could make the Wind's End tremble, her fierceness unmatched by any dragon.

"Heh—"

At this moment, the red young dragon also let out a tender dragon roar, as if she understood that Viserys was naming her.

Her roar had undergone a drastic change in a short time after just being born, and it seemed to have some form of the sky's overlord.

"Then the second golden dragon will be called Rhaegal."

Rhaegal is also an ancient god from the time of the Valyrian Freehold. In High Valyrian, it has the meaning of the sun and light, which is a sun god in Valyrian civilization.

This perfectly matches the golden young dragon's golden scales, like a small sun.

"Meraxes is a sea serpent in Valyrian mythology, said to be able to call the wind and summon the rain, stirring up huge waves."

The deep blue young dragon let out a low roar, she was given the name of the ancient sea monster god Meraxes.

And the last dragon...

"Syrax, a pure maiden, her name also comes from the name of a Valyrian goddess."

"Although her partner may not be such a woman."

The civil war known as the Dance of the Dragons, led by Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, directly led to the fall of many of the Targaryen family's dragons, leading to the extinction of dragons.

At this point, the names of the four dragons have been decided, they are the red dragon Vhagar, the golden dragon Rhaegal, the deep blue dragon Meraxes, and the crystal dragon 'little lady' Syrax.

And at this moment.

The blazing fire that hatched the four young dragons was about to go out, with only the last remaining flame dancing in the charred ruins.

The last silver dragon egg shook at this moment, rolled on the scorched earth, and finally a crack appeared in the eggshell.

Crack—

A young dragon covered in silver scales, looking somewhat weak and panting, finally crawled out of the eggshell.

Chapter 362: The Cellar of Winterfell

Within the cellar of Winterfell.

All around was quiet, with only the faint sound of breathing. There was no light, and one could not see their hand in front of their face.

A man dressed in black, with long dark brown hair, was holding a sword, draped in wolf skin, leaning against the cellar wall, fast asleep.

Suddenly, his brow furrowed in his sleep, and his breathing became rapid.

A companion leaning against him was not asleep. His experience was vast, his reaction speed extremely fast. Perhaps the recent terrifying events had made him wake at the slightest disturbance.

He quickly covered Benjen's mouth, preventing him from crying out in surprise. Only a muffled sound was heard.

"Ugh—"

However, even this faint sound woke everyone in the cellar, causing a slight stir. At the same time, a faint noise came from the upper level of the cellar.

"Damn."

Everyone's hearts hung in their throats.

But after the faint noise, there was no other sound, and the people hiding deep in the cellar let out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?"

"Do you know you almost got us all killed, Benjen!"

The man speaking in a low voice was Alliser Thorne, the master-at-arms of Castle Black.

His combat experience was rich, and he was now in his forties. His quick reaction had saved everyone's lives. Otherwise, if the demons outside were alerted, the last safe place in Winterfell would fall.

In his youth, Alliser Thorne had fought for the Targaryen family in the Usurper's War and had refused to surrender when King's Landing fell. He fought until the last moment until he was captured alive.

Tywin Lannister, the Duke, gave him a choice between the gallows and the black. He chose to don the black and joined the Night's Watch.

The long-faced man, who was still panting slightly, also realized how dangerous the situation had just been. His chest heaved, but there was still fear in his eyes.

He had had a nightmare. He was Benjen Stark, the First Ranger of the Night's Watch.

However, after a few deep breaths, Benjen's heart gradually calmed down.

"I'm sorry, Ser Alliser."

Benjen then gratefully looked at his Night's Watch colleague, not knowing if the other could see him in the pitch-black darkness, and apologized.

Then he took a deep breath, steadied his emotions again, and spoke in a voice as low as before.

"I'm fine, just had a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

The middle-aged knight with slightly gray hair, holding his long sword, turned his head to look at Benjen.

He had thought that Benjen, a seasoned warrior, wouldn't have nightmares in such a situation. However, he had overestimated him. Benjen was still a coward.

Alliser Thorne snorted, then shook his head and said.

"It's okay, I understand."

In his view, Benjen was scared.

But the terrifying events of the past year were indeed scary, from the first encounter with the White Walkers, the horrific corpse formations, to the war with the wildlings, the collapse of the Wall, and then the arrival of the White Walker army, the fall of the Wall, and the defeat of the allied forces retreating to Winterfell.

A month ago, the allied forces in Winterfell were preparing to fight back, but they were still defeated. After a night of fighting, the allied forces were defeated and fled to the Neck.

They were surrounded by the undead, unable to break out, and in their panic, they fled into the cellar of Winterfell.

During this month, the undead outside had broken into the cellar several times after hearing noises. After constant maneuvering, sacrifices, and fighting, only so many people were left.

Fortunately, Winterfell was built on a hot spring, so the temperature in the cellar was not very cold. And the cellar of Winterfell had once been used as a temporary place for the allied forces to store supplies, so they had no worries about food and clothing.

However, the food stored by the allied forces was now running low. For all those trapped here, it was a time of decision.

"Huh~"

Benjen naturally heard the mockery in Alliser Thorne's words.

But he was not a hot-blooded teenager anymore. He just looked at him and said nothing.

After all, he had made a mistake just now, and the other had saved everyone's lives.

The brief conversation ended, and the cellar of Winterfell fell silent again.

Benjen leaned against the wall behind him, his eyes flickering slightly. Although he had calmed down, he could not sleep anymore.

Although he couldn't see anything with his eyes open now, he knew that the statue of 'Snowbeard King' Edrick Stark was right in front of him.

Because when he was a child, he often played in the cellar, and his sister Lyanna would tell him stories about their ancestors.

'Snowbeard King' Edrick was an ancestor of the Stark family, one of the earliest Kings in the North. The outer wall of Winterfell was built during his reign.

Since the cellar was broken into by the dead and they learned a bloody lesson, these survivors had fled to the lowest level of the cellar. Any further down was a collapsed area.

But that was not the point. The point was that Benjen had just had a nightmare after accidentally falling asleep.

Benjen dreamed of the King of Winter coming into the cellar of Winterfell. His cold gaze was locked on him, and then he strode towards him.

The stone-carved direwolves on both sides of the cellar roared at him, seemingly telling him to run. His father Rickard Stark, his elder brother Brandon, and his sister Lyanna were all weeping blood, telling him to leave.

Benjen ran back desperately, with the Night King slowly chasing him. But then something even more terrifying happened, making Benjen's hair stand on end, and he was instantly horrified!

That was the Night King passing by the tombs of the Kings in the North, and each tomb exploded one after another. The Kings in the North, who had once been powerful and left a strong mark in history, crawled out of their graves.

They pulled out their rusty swords from their statues, and with a swipe of their hands, they all turned into transparent ice swords.

Their eyes were filled with icy blue flames, and then they all looked at Benjen, who was lying at the end of the cellar, and let out a soul-shaking roar.

Then Benjen woke up.

Chapter 363: Terrifying Nightmare

"Was it... just a nightmare?"

Ban Yang was still somewhat shaken after being startled awake. However, after realizing it was a dream and having a brief conversation with Ser Alliser Thorne, his anxiety gradually dissipated.

"Phew..."

He let out a long sigh.

"I hope it was just a dream..."

Despite it being a dream, Ban Yang couldn't shake off an inexplicable unease.

"How much food do we have left?"

The deepest layer of the crypt was silent, as if everyone had fallen asleep again.

At this moment, the Chief Ranger broke the silence with a question, his voice still kept low.

"We have enough for three days at most."

This time it wasn't Ser Alliser who answered, but the Night's Watch's recruiting officer, Yoren, who spoke softly.

"Only three days left?"

Upon hearing this, Ban Yang's heart tightened. He knew their food supply was dwindling, but he didn't expect that they only had this much left in the deepest part of the crypt.

The crypt of Winterfell did store a lot of supplies, but most of them were on the upper levels.

However, during the past month of hide-and-seek, due to various accidents, they were forced to retreat to the lowest level, right in front of the 'Snowbeard King', the oldest ancestor. The older the tomb, the deeper and darker it was located.

The Stark family's ancestral tombs were even deeper, but those areas had already collapsed and were dangerous. Therefore, the food stored here was not much, only enough for three days.

Indeed, Yoren's words caused a slight stir among the survivors.

Now, there were about a few dozen people who had escaped to the deepest part of the crypt.

Among these people were members of the Night's Watch and soldiers from the allied forces, most of whom were soldiers from the North, along with two Westermen and soldiers from the Riverlands.

"Only three days of food and water left, what should we do?"

In the darkness, where faces were indistinguishable and voices were the only means of identification, someone asked anxiously. However, his voice was a bit too loud, causing a stir in the upper level of the crypt. Immediately, everyone fell silent.

After a while, when no new sounds were heard, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Ser Alliser Thorne clenched his fist slightly, annoyed, and chastised in a low voice.

"Have you forgotten the mistakes made before?"

"Do you want us all to die together?"

After all, Ser Alliser had once been a commander in the Targaryen army, and with his rich experience and considerable authority, plus his age of over forty, he could be considered a father figure to many people present. Therefore, when he reprimanded, everyone fell silent.

But after a while, someone couldn't help but ask again, this time controlling their emotions better, without the previous anxiety.

After all, they had been trapped here for over a month, and they hadn't had a good night's sleep in all that time. Every day was filled with fear, living in complete silence, and everyone was terrified and numb.

Death.

If they really died, it would be a kind of release.

"What should we do?"

"Are we going to starve to death in three days?"

His words fell into silence in the crypt, and everyone's breathing became a bit heavy. This was indeed a problem that was about to confront them.

Although they had a water source, without food, they would starve to death sooner or later.

"The food stored in the lowest layer was always scarce."

At this moment, Ban Yang took a deep breath and spoke out of the blue.

"The food is on the upper two levels, but we've lost it. After three days, there are only two ways: either stay here and starve to death, becoming a wandering wight in the crypt, or break out."

Ban Yang's words made sense, but they left everyone silent.

They had thought about breaking out before, but a disastrous attempt about half a month ago forced them to retreat and escape to the lowest level.

During this time, because they couldn't see the outside, it was very difficult to keep track of the days. They calculated the time by listening to the footsteps of the wights above.

Although there might be some discrepancies, this was the only way.

Wait to die? Or die now?

This question was very heavy, but for those trapped in the deepest part of the crypt, this was the problem they were facing.

"I support breaking out!"

At this moment, the Night's Watch's recruiting officer, Yoren, voiced his support.

"I'd rather fight these monsters than starve to death here!"

His words resonated with some of the soldiers. Everyone had been trapped here for over a month, and even their fear had become numb. The hope of survival was gradually fading.

Since their defeat, they hadn't received any information from the outside world and didn't know what the outside world was like now.

Had humanity been completely defeated?

Had the Neck held?

Perhaps the future was the end of the world, with the army of the dead taking over King's Landing, turning everyone into wights, whether they were poor farmers or high-ranking kings and nobles.

In this case, they felt a bit more balanced, at least everyone's end was the same.

The long night enveloped, Westeros was completely haunted, everywhere were walking dead, it seemed that there was no difference between dying sooner or later.

After all, there was no hope left, it was better to fight a death battle with these monsters, at least they could die a bit more gloriously.

"I'm in!"

"I also support!"

"Let's just break out!"

Yoren's words received a positive response from everyone, but Ser Alliser Thorne remained very calm.

He was actually leaning towards the plan of a desperate fight, because the current situation was very clear, continuing to wait would only lead to a dead end.

Now that so much time had passed outside, perhaps the number of wights remaining in Winterfell was not that many. If they seized the opportunity, they might really be able to break out.

"Have you made up your mind, Ban Yang?"

Then

Ser Alliser, his hair slightly graying, spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Once we break out with our brothers, there's no turning back."

Either they escape, or they die on the way.

"Yes, no more hesitation!"

Ban Yang took a deep breath, then nodded with determination.

He suppressed the growing unease in his heart and gently touched the dragonglass dagger in his bosom.

Among the people present, only three had dragonglass daggers, all members of the Night's Watch. These three daggers were distributed to them from the Night's Watch armory just before the Wall fell.

In fact, Ban Yang didn't mention that his sudden urge to break out was due to his inner unease and the recent nightmare.

His father, elder brother, and sister Lyanna, all weeping blood, warned him to leave quickly.

"Let's go!"

Then, without further ado, Ban Yang drew his long sword and stood up abruptly.

The dozens of soldiers trapped here also clenched their weapons and followed Ban Yang, charging towards the outside.

...

Outside Winterfell.

In the snow that filled the sky, a skeletal horse was carrying a slender man with an ice crown on his head, slowly heading towards the gate of Winterfell.

His eyes were burning with icy blue flames.

Chapter 364: Escape

"Charge!"

Dozens of surviving soldiers, torches in hand, burst out from the lowest level of the Stark crypt, catching the wights off guard.

However, these wights felt no fear. Their bodies were already dead, now merely animated by some mysterious force. Their brains didn't function, blindly executing the Night King's commands.

Immediately, the wights let out a piercing shriek and lunged at the group of human soldiers.

The force of life was like a beacon in the darkness to these dead, attracting them like flies to dung. The wights swarmed in, and the few dozen survivors drew their swords to fight.

Ban Yang was the leader of these soldiers.

Ser Alliser Thorne was the master-at-arms of the Night's Watch, but Ban Yang was the Chief Ranger. Their ranks were similar, neither could command the other.

However, most of the surviving soldiers were Northerners. They naturally preferred to follow the orders of a member of the Stark family, rather than a Southerner of unknown origin.

The light from the torches illuminated the pitch-black crypt. The wights relied on instinct to seek out any signs of life. In such a dark environment, human eyes were not as sensitive as the wights' instincts.

Fortunately, the crypt was stocked with plenty of war supplies, including food, armor, weapons, and firewood.

"Charge!"

A man with long, dark brown hair and a long face, dressed in black animal skins, held a long sword in one hand and led the charge under the glow of the torchlight.

The wights on the upper level of the crypt saw the living and let out a howl before lunging directly at them.

Crack—

Ban Yang deftly dodged and decapitated a wight with a backhand swing of his sword.

"Heh—"

Even after being decapitated, the wight's body continued to claw and bite wildly.

The fallen head couldn't scream, but the icy blue glow in its eyes was still clearly visible, flickering with madness.

The Chief Ranger moved swiftly, stabbing the headless wight in the chest with the obsidian dagger in his left hand.

Puff—

The dragonglass dagger was incredibly sharp, even sharper than weapons made of steel, but it was much more fragile, suitable for ending an enemy's life rather than fighting.

The dagger pierced the chest of the headless wight, feeling as if it had stabbed into a straw man, without the sensation of flesh and blood.

The wight's movements instantly froze, and then, as if all its strength had been drained, it collapsed limply.

It was completely dead.

The body of the headless wight was killed, but its head was still clattering its jaws, as if trying to bite a human toe.

Crack—

But it was crushed under the foot of Yoren, the 'Wandering Crow', who had rushed up from behind.

Another wight lunged at them, and Yoren shoved his torch directly into its mouth, causing it to scream in pain. He then used his dragonglass dagger to finish it off.

The sudden commotion of the human survivors had alarmed all the wights in Winterfell, and they all swarmed towards them.

Now, only a few dozen survivors were left, surrounded on all sides.

The survivors had now broken out of the pitch-black crypt and reached the surface of Winterfell. They formed a circle to face enemies from all directions, and were engaged in a fierce battle.

Crack—

Ser Alliser Thorne cut down a lunging wight with his sword, panting heavily, his breath forming a white mist in the air.

Beside him, a soldier from House Karstark was knocked to the ground by a wight and was being savagely bitten on the cheek, letting out a shrill scream.

"Damn it!"

The master-at-arms of Castle Black, his hair slightly graying, pulled out his dragonglass dagger and fiercely stabbed it into the wight's back.

The wight screamed and instantly became motionless, dying on the spot. However, the face of the Karstark soldier had been gnawed to a pulp, and he died in a pool of blood.

"Ban Yang! We can't fight here!"

"Or we'll all die here!"

While swinging his sword desperately, Ser Alliser shouted loudly at Ban Yang.

The Chief Ranger naturally understood this. The man with long black hair and a long face clenched his teeth, scanning the surrounding environment.

The wights gathering were becoming more and more numerous. The gate of Winterfell was inexplicably closed by the wights, and there was definitely no time to rush over and seize the gate. The only choice was the nearest city wall...

"Follow me!"

Ban Yang gritted his teeth and led the remaining survivors out of the encirclement towards the direction of the city wall.

The survivors also burst out with a strong will, paying a heavy price. They actually managed to break out of the encirclement of the wights and escape to the city wall.

"Heh—"

The wights let out a sharp howl and chased madly.

Even after so much time had passed since the battle, there were still traces of the war on the walls of Winterfell.

The splattered blood, the torn Stark family banner, the direwolf emblem burned with a large hole, the scorched marks on the damaged city wall, and the scattered arrows in the arrow baskets.

However, even so, the thick snow on the ground had covered most of the traces. The story of the humans' bitter struggle here was buried under the frost.

Ban Yang then kicked the unused oil on the city wall and threw the torch in his hand to ignite the oil.

In an instant, a huge fire blazed up, blocking the wights from climbing the city wall.

The Chief Ranger panted slightly, then turned and came to the charred battlements.

He leaned on the battlements, looking at the profound height below, and then at the few people who had survived but had lost more than half in a short period of time.

The man swallowed lightly.

At this moment, silence was golden. No words were needed, everyone knew what to do.

They clenched their teeth tightly, then nodded at each other as a form of encouragement.

Ban Yang was the first to climb the battlements, then without hesitation, he jumped down.

Following him was the over forty-year-old Ser Alliser Thorne, 'Wandering Crow' Yoren, and the remaining survivors of the allied forces. Only a dozen or so were left, and they all jumped down from the battlements.

Not far away...

A fire and thick smoke suddenly rose in Winterfell. The Night King, riding a skeletal horse, turned his head. His eyes were burning with icy blue flames.

He saw everything that had just happened, and also saw them jumping off the city wall.

However, the Night King did not plan to chase after them. They were just a handful of struggling humans. It was not worth his personal effort.

They were staying on this land enveloped by cold. Death would embrace them sooner or later.

The Night King then urged his horse into Winterfell. With his footsteps, the snow in Winterfell became heavier.

In the crypt of Winterfell...

Under the cover of darkness, the tombs of the Kings in the North seemed to tremble slightly.

Rustle—

Dust from the ceiling fell in a flurry, and the stones trembled.

Chapter 365: Prince Doran's Plan

The morning sun bathed Pentos, reaching a corner of the spacious training ground within the palace atop the Nine Towers.

Passing servants and guards dared not stop, but they couldn't help but glance towards that corner.

A female knight, clad in bright armor and a snow-white cloak, stood guard here, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword.

Clang, clang—

The incessant sound of metal clashing echoed from this corner.

Oberyn, the acting Hand of the King, wielded a long spear, his movements fierce and swift.

Another man, slightly shorter and seemingly more slender, held an ordinary single-handed sword.

Facing Oberyn's storm-like assault, he seemed remarkably at ease.

Arianne, approaching in her long dress, was slightly surprised at the sight.

Oberyn was her uncle, his name 'Red Viper' renowned throughout Dorne.

Viserys was her betrothed, known in Essos as a brave warrior, often leading charges on the battlefield, recklessly advancing yet always returning unscathed, and the creator of the legendary tale of capturing a city with only two hundred men.

But she arrived in Pentos too late; Viserys no longer needed to fight personally, so she had never seen his swordsmanship.

Whoosh~

The spear narrowly missed the silver-haired youth, piercing only air. Viserys merely tilted his head.

Another sweeping attack followed, but Viserys easily dodged by bending slightly.

To the discerning eye, the outcome was already clear. The female knight was not surprised by Viserys's strength.

She had seen the silver-haired youth single-handedly take down a general from the Freehold in full Valyrian steel armor, wielding a dragonsteel longsword, in the ruins of Valyria.

The opponent was over seven feet tall and incredibly strong, like a giant. Mia felt that one punch from him could bury her in the ground, unable to claw her way out.

People outside couldn't possibly imagine how terrifying such a monster could be, what secrets this world still held.

Viserys could kill such a giant monster in an instant, let alone dealing with mere mortals.

Yes, mere mortals.

In Mia's eyes, her king was like a god. He wielded the 'black magic' passed down in the ruins of Valyria, capable of resurrection, and could transform into black mist. How could such a person be considered a mortal?

The fight continued. After several exchanges, the two seemed evenly matched, but the outcome was already decided.

Viserys finally retaliated, the momentum on the field abruptly shifting. His ordinary longsword penetrated Oberyn's exquisite spear technique, easily finding the weak point in his opponent's moves.

He forced Oberyn to drop his weapon, and his sword stopped just a foot from Oberyn's throat.

Click—

Then he sheathed his sword.

Mia, a seasoned warrior herself, was slightly dazzled by the scene.

She barely caught Viserys's movements, how he forced Oberyn to drop his weapon, and then smoothly pointed his sword at Oberyn's throat.

The match was decided.

Oberyn raised his empty hands high, a hint of bitterness on his face. His spear lay on the ground, and he lowered his hands.

Viserys returned the sword to a guard standing on the side, equally astonished. He had borrowed the sword from him.

At this moment, Arianne, who had been secretly watching for a while, slowly approached, lifting her dress.

"An astonishing duel."

"Uncle Oberyn."

She greeted her uncle first, then turned to Viserys. She leaned in close, her hand naturally resting on his chest, and kissed him on the cheek. Viserys could even smell her scent.

"My love."

Arianne also paid extra attention to the Kingsguard standing next to Viserys.

The woman's face was not particularly beautiful, just average, but her armor added a touch of valor. Her figure was excellent, though Arianne's was still superior.

Arianne didn't think this first-ever female Kingsguard appointed by Viserys would challenge her status.

The female knight, seeing the Princess of Dorne, held her sword and slightly bowed her head, speaking calmly.

"Princess."

"Ser."

Arianne nodded, symbolically greeting the Kingsguard.

Then her gaze returned to Viserys and her uncle. She took a letter from her bosom and handed it to Viserys.

"Another letter from father."

"Asking when we will march on Westeros."

In recent times, Prince Doran had sent several letters to Pentos, asking when they would march on Westeros.

The Targaryen and Martell families had an unbreakable alliance.

Prince Doran was very cautious in his military strategy, but due to the great distance between them, to launch a coordinated attack and avoid any information gap, it was best to agree on a time to march.

He believed the best opportunity was when the Seven Kingdoms' united army had gone to the Wall.

In the previous letters, Prince Doran proposed that the Targaryen army cross the Narrow Sea, with the three dragons, directly to King's Landing, capturing the usurper's family to form a threat.

Viserys would ascend the Iron Throne first, officially crowned as the King of the Seven Kingdoms, then issue a decree denouncing the usurper as a false king, and command all the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms to submit, gaining the support of the fence-sitters, except for Robert's staunch allies.

At the same time, Dorne would attack the Reach from three directions. Although the Reach was rich, the Tyrells were not adept at warfare and could not compete with the powerful Dorne.

Moreover, the Tyrell family itself was wavering and could easily surrender to the Targaryens.

By that time, Viserys would lead the Targaryen soldiers south to join the Dornish army in attacking Storm's End, the Baratheon stronghold.

The young and incapable Lord of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon, was not his brother Stannis.

He could not possibly withstand the fierce attack of the Dornish and Targaryen armies, let alone three dragons.

Once Storm's End was taken, it would be another heavy blow to the usurper.

Thus, the Seven Kingdoms would be divided.

The Targaryen army would control the south of the Seven Kingdoms, while Robert and his allies would control the north, with a clear division of power.

Prince Doran's plan was good; if successful, it could directly take Robert's life.

But unfortunately...

Dorne was too far from Pentos. By the time this letter arrived, the situation in the Seven Kingdoms had changed dramatically, or Prince Doran had not expected the powerful united army to be defeated so quickly and thoroughly.

Viserys read the letter, then handed it to Oberyn. After Oberyn read it, the two looked at each other, exchanging glances.

At that moment.

A guard hurried over.

"Your Grace."

"A messenger from the usurper seeks an audience. He carries the command of the false king's Hand and calls himself Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin."

Chapter 366: The Iron Throne's Envoy

This was not Petyr Baelish's first visit to Pentos.

The last time he was here, he was recommended by the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, to carry out King Robert's orders to persuade the Free Cities to form an alliance against Andalos.

This was a suggestion put forward by Tywin Lannister, the Duke of Casterly Rock, after he personally came to King's Landing to meet King Robert upon hearing the news of the death of his youngest brother, Kevan.

Duke Tywin's hatred for the remnants of House Targaryen was well known. Both of his brothers had died at the hands of that bastard.

Unfortunately, Duke Tywin's plan failed. Petyr's plan to persuade the Free Cities was successful, driving a wedge between Braavos and Andalos, and successfully instigating the Magister of Pentos to make a move against Viserys under the guise of an invitation.

But the final result was that Viserys went to the meeting alone and killed all the Magisters of Pentos in the ensuing chaos.

He eventually took over Pentos, broke the anti-Andalos alliance, and from then on, no power could limit the development of Andalos.

The final result of Petyr's last mission to Pentos was not very good, and this time, 'Littlefinger' was even more uneasy.

He didn't want to come because he had done something guilty, but to his surprise, because of his excellent performance last time, that damned old man Jon Arryn and King Robert thought highly of him and specifically asked Lord Petyr to take action personally.

So Littlefinger had to come reluctantly, carrying Jon Arryn's orders, Queen Cersei's secret instructions, and his own schemes.

Lord Petyr Baelish's territory was only the smallest finger on the Fingers peninsula, hence the derogatory nickname, but he wasn't angry, even taking it as motivation.

His lifelong wish was to elevate his class and his thirst for power, hoping to become a great figure.

Therefore, he was willing to become a lapdog for power, but this lapdog was not loyal to its master.

With three intentions for this visit, Petyr Baelish felt a great deal of pressure, but he was not discouraged. Standing outside the seaside palace of Pentos, he took a deep breath to calm his mood.

Then he turned his head to look at Hendry Bracken beside him. The brown-haired young man also seemed a bit nervous. Feeling Lord Petyr Baelish's gaze, he turned his head to look at him.

Then Petyr's face showed a calm and composed smile. He patted Hendry Bracken's shoulder and encouraged him.

"Don't be nervous, Hendry, you're here to see your father."

"Your father once saved the prince's life, and now he holds a high position in Pentos."

"The prince may make things difficult for anyone, but he won't make things difficult for you."

The two were of similar age, but Petyr Baelish naturally exuded a calm demeanor, like an elder educating a younger one.

And Hendry Bracken naturally looked up to him. Hearing Lord Petyr's words, he took a deep breath and nodded, seeming to relax a lot.

His father was a high-ranking official in Prince Targaryen's court, and the prince wouldn't make things difficult for him.

"Yes, I'm here to see my father."

Hendry reminded himself again, receiving Petyr's encouraging smile, and a smile appeared on his face.

Barristan Selmy, the captain of King Robert's Kingsguard, who was standing behind the two, listened to their conversation and remained silent throughout.

Petyr Baelish represented King Robert's official mission, unlike the last time's conspiracy, naturally, a member of the Kingsguard had to accompany him.

He was isolated because he stayed in the Red Keep but despised politics, so he was disliked and ostracized by various factions.

Although the two often argued over disagreements, Barristan's biggest supporter was King Robert, who greatly appreciated this outspoken captain of the Kingsguard.

However, King Robert had been away from King's Landing for more than a year, so this upright captain of the Kingsguard was also seen as an eyesore by some people and was schemed to be driven out of King's Landing to carry out this escort mission.

Barristan Selmy had complex feelings about this trip because he was once a Kingsguard for King Aerys II, swore loyalty to the king, but in the end, he surrendered to the usurper.

If it was just that, it would be fine, as people would forget after a while, but unfortunately, the Targaryen family stood up again on the other side of the Narrow Sea. The escaped second prince of Targaryen inherited his father's and brother's will and re-established the kingdom, which made his feelings complex and contradictory.

"Will the second prince... be different from his father?"

The white-cloaked knight pondered in his heart.

He had seen the second prince when he was a child and even held him in his arms.

But Barristan never thought that the most outstanding heir of the former king was not his eldest son Rhaegar, but his second son, Prince Viserys.

At this moment, the palace doors were opened.

The envoys who had traveled thousands of miles from King's Landing had been standing outside the palace for quite a while.

Two Unsullied soldiers wore light armor, their eyes cold and indifferent under their helmets.

"Lord Petyr Baelish?"

"Please come in, His Majesty has time to see you now."

"Thank you."

The short man with a small beard on his chin smiled politely and nodded.

Then, along with Hendry Bracken, the captain of the Kingsguard, and his own entourage, he entered the Nine Towers Palace.

Viserys, of course, had been waiting here for a long time. He didn't bother to change his clothes or put on the crown that symbolized the king.

Once he would have done so, because he lacked power, he needed to use some external trappings to deliberately emphasize his status and consolidate his rule.

But now he wouldn't. He held the power that could threaten the Seven Kingdoms, and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms trembled in his shadow. When to send troops to attack Westeros was just a matter of time.

The female knight stood behind him with one hand on the hilt of her Valyrian steel sword. The commander of the Unsullied, Grey Worm, stood not far away on the steps with a spear in his hand, and two rows of Unsullied soldiers looked solemn.

A moment later, footsteps sounded outside the hall.

The rest of the envoy's entourage was kept outside, only Petyr, Hendry, and the captain of the Kingsguard were allowed to enter the hall.

Littlefinger hurried in, a departure from his previous composure, looking quite urgent.

He didn't dare to look at Viserys for too long, but put one hand on his chest and bowed deeply.

"Greetings, Prince Viserys."

Chapter 367: Request for Aid

"The usurper's envoy, Lord Baelish."

"The one standing before you is the king of the Seven Kingdoms, the protector of the realm, not some second prince."

Viserys did not speak, but the knight standing behind him, her hand on the hilt of her sword, spoke in a cold voice in the Common Tongue.

After some time of adjustment, Mira now clearly understood the grudges and disputes between the Targaryen family and the Iron Throne of Westeros, which was part of her duty.

A hint of a formalistic bitter smile appeared on Petyr Baelish's face, and he bowed again.

"Very well, Your Majesty."

Of course, he knew to address Viserys as king, but due to his position, he could not appear too humble.

'A worthless commodity cannot be sold at a good price.'

All of this was within his prepared opening remarks. Petyr was not panicked and continued to speak after organizing his thoughts.

"You may not have heard of my humble name when we first met. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Petyr Baelish."

"I come from the smallest finger of the Fingers, and I currently serve as the Master of Coin in King Robert Baratheon's small council."

Although not very old, a few strands of white were mixed in his dark hair. Petyr Baelish stood in the great hall, speaking confidently, showing no signs of stage fright.

He positioned himself lowly, not hiding the fact that he came from an insignificant small house.

But he also emphasized his current position. As King Robert's Master of Coin, he was qualified to meet Viserys as an envoy.

"And the two standing beside me..."

Lord Baelish turned to introduce the two people standing beside him to Viserys.

However, at this moment, Viserys, sitting on the throne in light-colored casual clothes, suddenly spoke.

"I know your name, Lord Baelish."

"There's no need for false modesty."

The handsome silver-haired youth's voice was calm. This was the first time he had spoken since seeing Robert's envoy, and his voice echoed in the empty hall.

"Oh, how do you know..."

Viserys's sudden speech caught Littlefinger off guard. The small man was slightly stunned. He didn't expect Viserys to know his name.

But... how much does the other party know about him?

"You once came to Pentos and persuaded the magisters there to attack me."

"Am I right?"

Viserys's voice was still calm, but it made Petyr Baelish sweat, leaving him somewhat speechless, unsure of how to respond.

"This, this... Your Majesty..."

He had indeed secretly visited Pentos and Braavos, but this should have been highly confidential. He never expected that Viserys would know about it.

If he had known about this, he would have never accepted the position of envoy. Wasn't this a death sentence?

Was there a mole in the small council? Who leaked the information?

Then he thought of that damned old man, Jon Arryn, who insisted on sending him and put on a face of doing it for his own good.

When he got back, he would make sure Lysa, that stupid woman, paid double for this. Petyr thought bitterly.

Viserys's words made Littlefinger's forehead sweat in an instant.

He quickly sifted through every suspicious person in his mind, while thinking of a response in a hurry. There was no use in sophistry. Since Viserys had brought it up, he must have solid evidence.

Hendry and Barristan, standing behind Lord Baelish, looked at each other. Barristan saw the nervousness in the young man's eyes.

Then the slightly graying captain of the Kingsguard took a deep breath and lowered his head. In fact, he was also somewhat nervous, afraid of being recognized by Viserys.

The prince had changed a lot since then. At that time, he was just a stubborn child of six or seven.

Now, with tens of thousands of soldiers and three dragons at his command, sitting on the throne, every word and action exerted a great psychological pressure. Just a few words made Petyr Baelish sweat profusely.

The atmosphere in the hall was a bit tense, and the usurper's envoy was somewhat speechless.

The female knight standing behind Viserys had a slight smile on her lips. Her gaze passed over Petyr and the unknown nobleman of the Seven Kingdoms, landing on the old knight in bright armor and a white robe.

The usurper's Kingsguard?

Mira's hand on the hilt of her sword tightened slightly.

However, it was still Viserys who broke the ice for the sweating Baelish.

"There's no need to be nervous, Lord Baelish."

Viserys spoke, his pale purple eyes looking at him as if he had seen through him.

What Petyr didn't know was that Viserys knew him better than he knew himself.

He was a man with a talent for money and trade, and even more so a master of intrigue and cunning in the Seven Kingdoms. He was adept at playing the game of thrones.

"I have no intention of holding you accountable. On the contrary, I should thank you."

"If it weren't for you stirring up those fools to attack me, I might not have had the chance to take Pentos so easily."

This time, the bitter smile on Petyr's face was real. He bowed again.

"Thank you for your magnanimity, Your Majesty."

Littlefinger's previous elegance and composure were gone.

Then he had to continue the topic and introduce the two people behind him.

"Your Majesty, this is Hendry Bracken, the nephew of Lord Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge."

The brown-haired young man standing next to Petyr looked a bit nervous. It seemed that Viserys's words had scared him too.

"Your... Your Majesty."

Hendry quickly followed Littlefinger's example and bowed deeply, almost kneeling and kowtowing.

"This is Sir Barristan Selmy, the captain of King Robert's Kingsguard."

"Your Majesty."

The white-haired knight who was named could no longer keep his head down and play dumb. He could only take a deep breath, then look at Viserys with bright eyes and speak.

He only hoped that Viserys had forgotten him.

However, to his disappointment, Viserys still remembered him.

"Ah, Sir Barristan, long time no see."

Viserys just nodded to the captain of the Kingsguard and greeted him, but he didn't say much else. This made him feel a bit uneasy.

Then Littlefinger composed himself and formally began to state the purpose of the envoy.

Robert finally couldn't withstand the pressure.

The defeat in two major battles made him realize that the White Walkers could not be defeated by human power alone. So he thought of the red priestess who disappeared after the Battle of Winterfell.

She once said that the Night King was ice, and the dragons were fire. The only thing that could defeat the Night King was the raging dragon flame.

The simultaneous resurrection of the Night King and the dragons symbolized that this was a song of ice and fire. To defeat the Night King, he had to ask Vis
erys for help.

Robert fled from Winterfell all the way to Riverrun, then tossed and turned sleeplessly at night. After discussing with his advisors and considering for a long time, he finally gritted his teeth and sent a raven to King's Landing, giving Jon Arryn full authority to arrange this matter.

However, he himself couldn't swallow his pride and didn't even write a personal letter asking for help.

Of course, Robert didn't have any good intentions under the guise of asking for Viserys's help.

This time, the envoy's departure from King's Landing was almost announced with drums and gongs, as if they were afraid that people wouldn't know that the Iron Throne was asking for help from the Targaryen family, hoping that the other party could extend a helping hand.

This was a well-known open plot, but the people of King's Landing naturally wouldn't think about open plots or conspiracies. They just cheered as if they saw hope.

Of course, this wasn't arranged by Robert. Robert might have given in, but he still had his pride.

Jon Arryn, on the other hand, was old and wise. He knew that face was useless, and that the only victory was to have the last laugh.

"White Walkers, dragons, wildlings... etc., these things that can easily tear our legends apart are appearing one after another."

"Let them kill each other. Only then can the world become better."

Chapter 368: Conditions

Petyr Baelish tried his best to persuade Viserys to send troops to support Westeros, explaining the terror of the White Walkers, and how, if not checked, they would eventually destroy the entire world.

Yet Viserys remained calm throughout.

Because he naturally knew the terror of the White Walkers, even more clearly than his counterpart.

Petyr's scare tactics naturally couldn't frighten Viserys, as the White Walkers wouldn't threaten Essos in the short term.

He was only concerned about what kind of bargaining chip Robert could offer in asking for his help.

He had almost imagined Robert, the fat man with a ring of black beard, issuing the order to ask for his help with a constipated expression.

Then an Unsullied soldier walked in from outside the door, whispering a few words to Viserys.

Viserys nodded slightly, then looked at the three people below and spoke.

"The person sitting on the Iron Throne is not me, Lord Baelish. Why should I sacrifice the lives of my soldiers to save the lives of my enemies?"

Littlefinger was about to continue his spiel about the threat of the White Walkers when he heard Viserys's words.

"Your Majesty, the White Walkers..."

However, he was cut off by Viserys.

"Tell Robert—"

Viserys stood up, looking down at Littlefinger and spoke calmly.

"Take off the crown, kneel and surrender."

"I might allow him to continue as the Duke of Storm's End."

"Your Majesty..."

Upon hearing Viserys's words, Petyr Baelish once again showed a helpless bitter smile on his face.

This was clearly an impossible condition. Petyr indeed came with some negotiation power, but this condition clearly exceeded the scope.

However, despite the somewhat helpless bitter smile on his face, Littlefinger's heart was slightly relieved.

The torment was finally over.

Petyr Baelish had always thought he was very good at interpersonal communication.

His mouth was his most terrifying weapon. As long as his mouth wasn't sewn shut and he was allowed to continue speaking, he could often achieve his desired goal.

However, when his proud eloquence faced Viserys, Petyr felt as if his underwear had been seen through.

The other party seemed to know him like the back of his hand.

After the audience, he hadn't even noticed that his back had been soaked with cold sweat.

"I'm serious, you can tell Robert to consider it."

But Viserys had already stood up from the throne by this time. Negotiations like this certainly wouldn't have results in a day or two, and besides, Viserys didn't plan to send troops now, he wasn't ready yet.

And now he held the advantage, he could drag it out as long as he wanted.

The Seven Kingdoms now...

Were not desperate enough.

And what he just said was true, he wasn't joking. As long as Robert took off the crown and knelt to surrender, Viserys could forgive his crimes and let him be the Duke of Storm's End again.

If he could avoid a war that would devastate the world, peacefully transfer power and unify the Seven Kingdoms, Viserys really wouldn't mind killing one less person.

Of course, the condition that Viserys seriously proposed also had a time limit.

No one can make a mistake and not be punished, otherwise there would be rebellions every day.

If Viserys officially landed in Westeros, then this condition would naturally be void.

It's definitely impossible for Robert to suddenly want to surrender and exchange for the position of Duke of Storm's End after half of the war has been fought.

There would be no chance of surrendering to save his life at that time.

"Excuse me."

"You've come a long way, you can rest in the palace for now. Of course, if you want to leave now, I won't stop you."

Viserys had just received a message from his guard, saying that the 5,000 dragon scale armors that he had commissioned Tobho Mott and the blacksmith's workshop to forge a long time ago were now completed.

This was a new set of equipment custom-made for the Unsullied when they first came to Pentos.

The Unsullied's equipment was too simple in the past, the armor was not hard enough, the swords and spears were not sharp enough, the whole set needed to be replaced.

Of course, the equipment custom-made for the Unsullied was also the best design obtained after the Unsullied themselves tested it, which would meet their requirements for lightness and facilitate formation.

Then Viserys turned his head to his Kingsguard, his voice seamlessly switching from the Common Tongue to High Valyrian, and gave an order.

This was encrypted communication.

The three people below looked at each other, not knowing what Viserys was saying.

And the female knight was a Valyrian who only understood Valyrian and was still learning the Common Tongue.

She nodded slightly to indicate that she understood after hearing Viserys's order.

Then Viserys stood up from the throne and left the great hall from the back door, leaving the tea and sending off the guests to the still unrecognized Hendry Bracken, who was a bit depressed, but he didn't dare to say anything.

On the other side, the always silent captain of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, looked at the female knight in the same white robe, and several times he seemed to want to say something, but still held back.

Because he realized that the other party seemed to be a genuine 'foreigner', not very good at the Common Tongue.

Then the three of them followed Mira to the guest room area. The Nine Towers Palace was very large and naturally had a special place to arrange for guests to stay.

"Here."

Mira still spoke in her broken Common Tongue.

She doesn't know many words now, mostly 'here', 'there', 'please', 'thank you'... the most basic vocabulary.

But fortunately, there were maids who understood the Common Tongue to arrange their subsequent bathing and dinner.

These guests could wander around Pentos during the day, but they could only move in this small area in the palace and couldn't go deep into the palace.

Mira was about to turn around and leave after guiding the three guests here.

However, at this time, Barristan finally couldn't help but speak up and stop her.

"Miss... may I ask you a question?"

He didn't know her name, and didn't know if he should call her Miss.

"If I'm not mistaken, you should be... His Majesty's Kingsguard?"

Chapter 369: Busy

After Viserys left the great hall, a guard quickly followed him.

"Your Majesty!"

The guard caught up to him and informed him that Petyr Baelish, the envoy of the usurper, had requested a private audience with the king.

"Oh?"

"He wants to see me alone?"

The silver-haired youth was not surprised at all. It would not be Littlefinger if he did not engage in some sort of scheming.

His best performances were never on the stage in the open, but hidden in the shadows, constantly stirring up conflicts through secret plots.

"Very well."

Viserys did not hesitate and nodded.

"Tell Littlefinger that my free time is limited. He should think carefully about what he wants to say."

He did not like playing games with the other party, as it was a waste of his time and energy. His words were a warning for Littlefinger to think carefully before meeting him.

"Understood!"

The guard nodded and then withdrew.

With a swish—

Viserys then mounted his steed, one hand holding the reins and the other gripping the saddle. His guards, along with the Unsullied commander Grey Worm, also mounted their horses, and the group left the palace for the blacksmith's workshop.

Master blacksmith Tobho Mott had been appointed by Viserys as the Master of Craftsmen. Although he had not yet attended a court meeting, it was only a matter of time. There would also be a Master of Agriculture in the future.

Viserys placed great importance on the development of productivity. In an era without mechanized production, craftsmen were the most basic industrial workforce.

Blacksmiths could forge weapons and armor, as well as everyday items like pots, knives, and hoes. Carpenters could build houses and construct large siege weapons, and so on...

Therefore, the thing Viserys valued most within the kingdom was agriculture.

This was similar to the nobles of Westeros and more in line with Viserys's own character. He wanted to transform Andalos and Pentos into an agrarian civilization, and food supply could not have any issues.

The second thing he valued was craftsmen, as they represented creativity and could support the economy and military foundation of a large country.

The third was the traditional free trade of the city-states, the prosperity and development of commerce.

Viserys believed that the prosperity of commerce should be based on strength. Without strength, everything was empty talk, and even a chest full of gold could not be protected.

Lastly, there was the issue of education. However, in this era, establishing a large number of schools and promoting education was a high-cost, low-return project.

Viserys certainly knew the benefits of education, but for this era, it was too advanced. He also wanted to undermine the role of the Citadel by disseminating knowledge, but now was not the best time.

This era only needed honest farmers and brave soldiers. The talents cultivated through universal education could not be reasonably absorbed by society and would instead become a burden.

Because the main structure of civilization in politics still relied on noble autonomy, and the education of the nobles naturally did not need his worry.

Within the new dynasty, Viserys had stripped the nobility of their military power, all of which was now held by the king. This was already a great advancement.

If he also stripped them of their governing power, Viserys feared that he might overreach.

Some of the nobles across the Narrow Sea in Westeros had made contact with him, but the vast majority were resolutely resistant, due to the new policies.

Therefore, one must eat one bite at a time. Viserys had only provided an avenue for education within the military, as he had complete control over it. Junior officers who were promoted had the opportunity to study in Pentos.

Under the guise of 'learning to become a noble', they were taught to read and write, as knighthood was the threshold of nobility.

They were also taught strategies and knowledge that could be used on the battlefield to improve the overall quality of junior officers.

The combat effectiveness of an army, in addition to daily training, weapons and equipment, and rewards for motivation, also depended heavily on the command ability of junior officers.

Because the orders that ordinary soldiers directly received were from junior officers, not from corps commanders or senior commanders.

…

"Your Majesty."

"This is the dragonscale armor custom-made for our Unsullied soldiers. Please take a look."

The white-haired master blacksmith presented a heavy suit of armor to Viserys.

Although the armor was somewhat heavy to hold, it was much lighter when worn on the body. It also had impressive defensive capabilities, with reasonable reinforcements at key points.

Chest, throat, joints, etc., injuries to these parts would likely result in death, while injuries to some parts would instantly incapacitate.

From a cruel perspective, the lives of soldiers were cheap, like leeks that could be cut and regrown.

Generals should maximize the combat power of their soldiers, ensuring that they could still kill an enemy even with their last breath.

"When crafting these armors, we also took into account the suggestions of Grey Worm, such as here at the elbow..."

When it came to his professional knowledge, Master Tobho Mott was verbose and unceasing.

Those in his line of work had to put in a lot of effort for little gain, and they were also easy scapegoats. The king's rare visits were an opportunity that must be seized, at least to avoid making mistakes.

"Very good."

Viserys, looking at the new suit of armor that was both light and incredibly sturdy, nodded in satisfaction.

The helmet still retained the design of the Unsullied's long spikes.

This must have been a suggestion from Grey Worm, as it would make it easier for the Unsullied soldiers to familiarize themselves and quickly distinguish who the commanders were on the chaotic battlefield.

Viserys flicked a piece of the dragonscale armor with his finger. The black armor had the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem on the chest, giving off an overall intimidating aura.

He then looked up at the 5,500 suits of dragonscale armor that filled the entire warehouse. The extra suits were for replacements in case of defects or battle damage.

Then the silver-haired young man turned to Grey Worm, who had accompanied him, and said, "These armors are made for the Unsullied soldiers. Send someone to pick them up later."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Grey Worm, with a solemn expression, held his spear and knelt on one knee to express his gratitude to his master.

In fact, Viserys had not lied to Petyr Baelish, nor did he need to.

As a king, he became very busy once he returned to Pentos. His time outside was relatively leisure, and many of the tasks that Oberyn and Rhaenys had not handled had piled up.

After inspecting this batch of delivered armor, the silver-haired youth immediately went to the Golden Company's camp to check on the morale and training readiness of the Golden Company soldiers.

Although Viserys always said he was not in a hurry to deploy troops, it was inevitable.

Viserys could not sit idly by and watch Westeros turn into a ghost land. If the Night King became too powerful to control, the one who would suffer in the end would be himself.

Many of the commanders
of the Golden Company, many of whom were descendants of those who had participated in the Blackfyre Rebellion, now loyally served the legitimate Targaryen heir.

After leaving the Golden Company, Viserys pondered for a moment and then decided to check on the status of the Dragonstone fleet.

The Master of Naval Affairs of the new dynasty, the recently retired Hand of the King, Count Joffrey, was getting old.

The campaign to conquer Westeros could be said to be the last shining point of his life.

It was also his lifelong wish since fleeing Dragonstone, to restore the Targaryen dynasty. Therefore, the old man was working tirelessly, devoting his energy to commanding and training the new Dragonstone navy.

However, when Viserys arrived at the Dragonstone fleet's base, he heard some unexpected news.

"Hmm?"

"The old man's illegitimate son who stayed in Westeros has come?"

Chapter 370: The Bracken Family

Hendry Bracken.

When Viserys first heard this name, he was somewhat puzzled. He didn't understand why such an obscure figure could be sent to Pentos with Petyr Baelish. However, because he was a minor character, Viserys didn't ask too many questions.

He knew of the Bracken family, one of the oldest families in the Riverlands, with the blood of the First Men flowing in their veins.

According to the Brackens, during the Age of Heroes before the Andal invasion, they ruled this land until they were betrayed by the Blackwoods.

The Blackwoods' version of events was exactly the opposite of the Brackens', but history was too distant, and neither side's claims could be verified.

The Bracken family's castle, Stone Hedge, was located along the Red Fork of the Trident, while the Blackwoods of Raventree Hall were on the other side of the river. The two ancient families had been mortal enemies for thousands of years.

However, now, both ancient families had sworn fealty to House Tully.

According to Viserys's knowledge, the current head of the Bracken family was named Jonos Bracken. How did this Hendry get involved with Joffrey?

But when Viserys arrived at the command center of the Dragonstone fleet, he understood the whole story.

It turned out that the old man's hidden identity was from the Bracken family. His real name should be Joffrey Bracken, and he was the first in line to inherit from the old Lord Bracken.

He also had a sister, Jenny Bracken, who was once one of the wife candidates that Hoster Tully, the Duke of Riverrun, had designated for his brother Brynden Tully, later known as the 'Blackfish', to choose from.

But Brynden Tully didn't fancy any of the women his brother had chosen for him, so he left his family and set up his own house. He later escorted his niece Lysa to marry into the Vale and was ennobled as the Knight of the Bloody Gate by the Lord of the Vale.

The old Lord Bracken had three children. The eldest was Joffrey Bracken, the second was Jenny Bracken, and the third was the current Lord Bracken, Jonos Bracken.

Back then, Joffrey was groomed by his father, the old Lord Bracken, as the heir. He was also very outstanding, handsome, and proficient in swordsmanship and horsemanship.

His brother Jonos originally had nothing to do with the inheritance and was just living a life of pleasure. If it weren't for Joffrey's strong opposition, Jonos might have been sent to the Citadel to become a maester.

However, under such circumstances, Joffrey made a big mistake in a moment of impulsiveness and was forced to flee his hometown and become a mercenary overseas.

That was when he was young and vigorous, he took his brother Jonos to King's Landing, secretly drank wine without the servants knowing, and went out to play.

On the street, they encountered the head of the Blackwood family, Roger Blackwood, the father of the current Lord Blackwood, Tytos.

Then, a drunken Joffrey somehow got into a conflict with Roger Blackwood.

Then Joffrey actually killed the Lord of Raventree Hall on the streets of King's Landing. Even now, Joffrey can't remember exactly what happened.

However, drawing a sword and killing someone on the streets of King's Landing, especially the Lord of Raventree Hall, was undoubtedly a big mess. Afterward, Joffrey Bracken was wanted by Viserys's grandfather, the then King Jaehaerys Targaryen II.

Joffrey Bracken was dazedly sent by his family's loyal servants and his own brother onto a merchant ship fleeing to the continent of Essos. His drunkenness hadn't worn off by this time.

Then, with the days of drifting at sea and the howling sea breeze, he gradually accepted the fact that he had killed someone and committed a serious crime, and was destined to be exiled overseas.

However, his father, the old Lord Bracken, could not accept this result. Coupled with his poor health, he fell ill and never recovered, passing away. His brother Jonos then inherited the position of Lord of Stone Hedge.

Since then, Joffrey has been living under a pseudonym, no longer using his surname, and never returning to his hometown, until he was appreciated by Viserys's elder brother, Prince Rhaegar, and joined the Dragonstone navy, eventually becoming the fleet commander.

His son, Hendry Bracken, was born to a prostitute during his time as a mercenary in Tyrosh, Lys, and other places. He was then sent back to the Bracken family and raised by his brother Jonos Bracken. Because he was the only heir, he received the family name.

The old man never voluntarily revealed that he had a son. It was only once when he let it slip that Viserys heard about it, but he refused to say more when asked later.

And now his illegitimate son has actually come to him voluntarily.

"Your Majesty."

Hendry was quite a bit older than Viserys, even older than Littlefinger.

But because he had no parents from a young age and was dependent on others, he seemed to have some personality defects and appeared very submissive.

This was a far cry from his father, Joffrey Bracken. The old man's hair was white, but he still sat upright in his chair.

When Hendry saw Viserys suddenly arrive, he stood up somewhat flustered, not knowing whether to continue standing or sit down.

It was only when Viserys waved his hand to indicate that he should sit down and talk that he hurriedly sat back down.

After so many years, seeing his own flesh and blood again, there was no joy on the old man's face, only worry.

Of course, he didn't blame Hendry. After all, he had thrown him back to his hometown for so many years, which was a very irresponsible act. What Joffrey was worried about was what Viserys was thinking now. This was clearly a divisive scheme.

However, while Joffrey saw through this scheme, Viserys was one step ahead.

After hearing the whole story, he understood that this was a small trap designed by Robert, or Jon Arryn, purely to add a bit of gamble, to plant a seed of distrust.

As for why they didn't use hostages as a threat, not to mention the ongoing negotiations for cooperation, even if the two sides were at odds, they probably knew that this move wouldn't work.

If the old man had voluntarily handed over Queen Rhaella and her children, who had fled to Dragonstone, back then, not to mention being pardoned for his past crimes, he could have easily exchanged them for a castle and become a lord.

But he never thought about it back then, and he certainly wouldn't think about it now.

Moreover, he hadn't seen his son for more than twenty years, and he wasn't a good father to begin with.

He valued honor and duty more than kinship.

Chapter 371: The Duel

The fact that the old man had found his heir was a good thing, and contrary to his worries, Viserys never harbored any resentment because of it.

In a strict sense, the Bracken family of Stone Hedge had little to do with Joffrey now.

Not to mention, after hearing the whole story, Viserys had doubts about Jonos Bracken, the current Lord of Stone Hedge and the brother of the old man who was present when the incident happened.

Even if Jonos hadn't manipulated the situation back then, he had already fathered five children and an illegitimate son, and had been the lord for so long that Stone Hedge must have nothing to do with Joffrey and Hendry now.

This was all told by Hendry, who was now a marginal figure in Stone Hedge. The affairs of the Bracken family had nothing to do with him.

If it weren't for Jon Arryn, the Duke of the Eyrie, who had brought him to King's Landing, he would probably have been appointed by his uncle as the representative of the Bracken family, leading soldiers to follow the army led by Edmure Tully of House Tully to support the allied forces in the Neck.

Because his uncle had five daughters, Jonos had long been displeased with his nephew.

Legitimizing a bastard generally only occurs when there is no legitimate heir, of course, there may be other reasons.

Joffrey was in such a situation back then, he only had this one illegitimate son, and Jonos Bracken had five daughters, only his only illegitimate son was a boy. The nephew with the Bracken surname also had inheritance rights, so he was hastily sent out to die.

...

That night, Viserys held a grand banquet for the old knight in the Nine Towers Palace.

The military and political officials of Pentos all attended the banquet. They all knew the old man's status in Viserys's heart, so they all gave him face.

The envoy from the Iron Throne who had returned the heir was also able to attend the banquet and met Oberyn, who was now acting as the Hand of the King, and Arianne, who was almost the queen.

When the two groups met, there was actually nothing awkward. Littlefinger was good at socializing and even took the initiative to chat with the Prince of Dorne and the Princess of Dorne.

Moreover, Oberyn and Arianne's presence in Pentos was a secret that was not a secret. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew it, but under the current situation of jointly fighting the White Walkers, everyone was unwilling to mention it.

At the banquet in Pentos, an interesting little episode happened.

Robert's Kingsguard commander, 'Fearless' Barristan Selmy, seemed to have a bone stuck in his throat about the first female Kingsguard in history.

After all, he had been a Kingsguard all his life, adhering to the creed of the White Knights. He believed that a woman becoming a Kingsguard tarnished the reputation of the Kingsguard, caused chaos in the palace, and so on...

However, the old knight did not bring these up in public. His character was indeed stubborn, but he was not a fool.

Instead, he got a chance to toast Viserys alone during the banquet on the open balcony, and couldn't help but speak up.

He believed that there were many excellent men in the Seven Kingdoms who could become qualified Kingsguard, and there was no need to choose a foreign woman.

So far, Viserys only had two Kingsguard, one was called a cripple, the other a woman, and this was indeed the case.

"The Kingsguard was founded by Queen Visenya, the wife of 'the Conqueror' Aegon. From its inception, it has served the royal family, loyal to the Targaryen family."

"Queen Visenya established the creed and principles of the Kingsguard based on the vows of the Night's Watch, emphasizing that loyalty is more important than martial arts."

Viserys, holding a wine glass in his hand, leaning his elbow on the balcony, facing the slightly chilly evening breeze, spoke without turning his head.

Then he turned his head and looked at Barristan Selmy.

His White Knight also stood behind him, even if she heard Barristan's question, she did not react, just held the hilt of her sword and said nothing.

As the first female Kingsguard in history, the criticism she endured was not just these.

"Since the birth of the Kingsguard, only two legitimate White Knights have served kings who are not of the Targaryen family."

"One is 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister, and the other is you, 'Fearless' Barristan Selmy."

As Viserys's words came out, the old knight's face turned red instantly. Being compared to the Kingslayer was a great insult.

However, what was more shameful was that upon careful thought, what Viserys said was indeed true.

The last Targaryen king to sit on the Iron Throne was Viserys's father, Aerys II.

And his Kingsguard 'White Bull' Gerold Hightower, Prince Lewyn Martell, Jon Darry, Oswell Whent, 'Sword of the Morning' Arthur Dayne all died in battle.

The only two who survived and surrendered to the enemy were the Kingslayer and Barristan Selmy.

"Mia."

Then Viserys looked at his Kingsguard.

"I allow you to challenge Ser Selmy to prove your martial arts."

Upon hearing Viserys's words, the female knight who had been holding back a belly full of fire stood up without a word and challenged the old knight.

The small episode on the balcony outside the banquet hall did not attract the attention inside. Barristan was challenged by a woman and his face was somewhat lost.

Then the banquet hall was filled with clinking glasses and was lively, and then a harsh sound of metal collision was heard.

Clang——

"Huh?"

"What happened?"

Everyone in the banquet hall stood up and looked towards the source of the sound.

But they only found out that a small episode had happened here unknowingly. The commander of the usurper's Kingsguard was holding a broken sword and standing in place dumbfounded, while the sword of the female knight was already on his neck.

Mia used her Valyrian steel sword, which was indeed an unfair victory.

But the fact that Viserys could give a precious dragon steel long sword to his subordinate was enough to explain the problem.

Barristan Selmy's expression was somewhat dim, perhaps still doubting himself because of Viserys's words.

In the end, he did not agree to continue the duel with a different sword, but excused himself for not feeling well and left in a daze.

The small episode at the banquet did not cause much of a stir.

After all, they didn't know what had happened, and they just thought it was a competition between two Kingsguard from two different camps.

And the king's female knight won, defeating the old knight whose hair had already turned white.

Afterward, the banquet ended.

Barristan left the venue early due to physical discomfort, and there were no other eyes from the Iron Throne around Littlefinger.

Not long after.

Littlefinger appeared outside Viserys's study under the guidance of the guard.

"Your Grace, I am instructed by Queen Cersei, hoping to mediate the conflict between the Targaryen and Lannister families."

Chapter 372: Cersei's Sincerity

Women's intuition is indeed very sharp, and Cersei has a strong sense of crisis. She felt deep anxiety when her husband and brother both thought things were still under control.

Pentos is located directly across from King's Landing, with only a narrow sea separating the two giant cities. If you only calculate the straight-line distance and don't consider travel time, Pentos is even closer to King's Landing than the Neck.

The remnants of the Targaryens now have over sixty thousand troops in Pentos, along with war elephants and three dragons, all eyeing Westeros.

They could easily turn King's Landing and its hundreds of thousands of people into ashes.

It merely depends on whether Viserys wants to become an 'Ashen King', leading his burning legion to destroy the Seven Kingdoms.

For the Seven Kingdoms, which are now plagued by internal and external troubles, perhaps the only thing that could prevent Viserys from crossing the Narrow Sea with his army is his own supply problem.

A large army requires adequate supplies, and provisions must be prepared before the troops move.

Since his return, Viserys's preparations have mainly focused on logistics and supplies. Otherwise, if there are problems with supplies during a sea expedition, it could lead to disastrous consequences.

The conflict between the Targaryens and the Lannisters, in a strict sense, has nothing to do with Cersei herself. It was the result of her father, Duke Tywin, and her brother, the 'Kingslayer'.

Cersei has always been a beauty enthusiast since she was a child. She was captivated by Prince Rhaegar's appearance and temperament when she was a young girl, and even had a great chance of marrying him.

Unfortunately, the marriage proposal that Duke Tywin made for his daughter Cersei was rejected by King Aerys II.

Even in Viserys's memory, Cersei seemed to still be infatuated with her brother Rhaegar many years later.

After she became the Regent Queen and effectively took power, she appointed Aurane Waters, the bastard of Driftmark, as the Admiral of the Navy, simply because he looked somewhat similar to Rhaegar, reminding her of the perfect prince in her girlhood dreams.

"Mediate the conflict between the Targaryens and the Lannisters?"

Viserys sat behind his desk, his hands interlocked. The room was brightly lit, and his violet eyes reflected a faint glow.

This statement was unexpected.

His gaze fell on Littlefinger, sizing him up slightly, then he chuckled and spoke.

"Lord Baelish, you should know that this is impossible."

"In front of Your Grace, what am I but a 'lord'?"

Littlefinger still had a respectful smile on his face, and he spoke humbly.

In the class differentiation of Westeros, 'lord' is a common term for nobles, from dukes to landed knights, all can be called 'lords'. Littlefinger's family may have a small fief, but they are nobles.

Although the king is the greatest noble in the country, he is not suitable to be called 'lord', but has a higher level of address.

Nobles must respect the king, but this does not mean that the king can look down on the nobles who swear allegiance to him.

Viserys calling Petyr Baelish, the 'Littlefinger' noble of the Fingers, 'Lord' is strictly reasonable. This shows his excellent royal upbringing and manners, but in this situation, it seems somewhat ironic.

However, the silver-haired youth did not pay attention to Petyr Baelish's words, but continued to speak with a cold voice.

"The Lannisters betrayed their king."

"The last King of the Rock, Loren Lannister, was defeated in the War of Conquest against Aegon. Loren knelt before Aegon and surrendered, willingly giving up his kingship to swear eternal loyalty to the Targaryen family, for all generations to come."

"Lord Baelish, can you translate what 'eternal loyalty' means?"

Petyr Baelish was somewhat speechless at Viserys's question.

The Baratheon family were the usurpers who betrayed their king, and those families who helped the usurper rebel also broke their oaths.

"Eternal... is forever..."

Littlefinger took a deep breath, his voice somewhat dry.

"Forever?"

"Yes, eternal is forever."

"But the Lannisters betrayed their ancestors' eternal oath."

"Moreover, the Lannister family has committed unforgivable heinous crimes. My nephew Aegon, my sister-in-law Princess Elia Martell, countless citizens of King's Landing who were slaughtered and washed in blood by the Lannister family..."

In the splendid study room, the candlelight flickered, casting the shadow of the silver-haired youth on the wall. He didn't stand up, but his hand on the table gradually clenched into a fist, showing a slight emotional fluctuation.

But whether it was more of a performance or genuine emotion, only Viserys himself knew best.

"I quite like the unofficial motto of the Lannisters that is widely circulated, 'A Lannister always pays his debts'. I'm curious about what price the Lannisters want to pay to repay this blood debt?"

Viserys took a deep breath to calm his emotions, then asked word by word.

But in fact, many years ago, when only a few people who followed him from the beginning might still know, when Viserys and his mother were still on Dragonstone, Viserys had sworn to his mother, Queen Rhaella.

One day when he led his troops back to Westeros, he would make the Lannisters pay in blood. The death of Kevan Lannister in his hands was just the beginning.

And Petyr Baelish, facing Viserys's calm but knife-like gaze, broke out in a cold sweat again.

Aura is often related to a person's status. A beggar, no matter how strong his aura, can hardly intimidate a noble.

And sitting on the throne, Viserys truly held Petyr Baelish's life and death in his hands. At this time, every word he said was a great pressure for Littlefinger.

"Queen Cersei is willing to make a great sincerity to mediate the conflict between the two families."

Then Petyr Baelish spoke with a somewhat stiff voice.

He was already somewhat regretting taking on Cersei's task, but there was no choice, this was also a crucial step for his future planning.

If he bet correctly, he would skyrocket and become a true 'Lord' Baelish.

"Sincerity?"

Viserys's expression remained calm as he picked up a book he was going to read tonight.

He had told Littlefinger to save time and think about what he wanted to say. After so long, he was impatient. He didn't think Cersei would want to show any 'sincerity'. This was a self-righteous little woman.

But then he heard Petyr Baelish speak with a somewhat dry voice.

"Her Majesty's sincerity is herself..."

"What did you say?"

Viserys, who was about to dismiss the guest, was slightly stunned at these words.

Then he looked up at the astonishing Littlefinger, and then heard him continue.

"And the head of the Usurper's Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, the Duke of the Vale."

Chapter 373: Wights Rowing

Viserys was indeed taken aback by the shocking words of Littlefinger, who had traveled from afar.

Meanwhile, in the main command post of the allied forces located in Riverrun, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon, was sound asleep in bed, stark naked, with a daughter of House Frey in his arms.

He was oblivious to the fact that he had already been cuckolded, that his wife had thrown herself into the arms of his greatest enemy even before his death, and was planning to find a new father for their children.

Perhaps the only consolation for him was that Viserys did not have the habit of taking advantage of others' wives and was not particularly interested in other people's wives. He always considered himself a young man.

The idea of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms willingly climbing into bed with him was somewhat tempting, but considering Cersei's actions, the thought was quickly dismissed.

Although Cersei's actions were indeed excessive, Robert was never a man to conserve his energy.

He always claimed that the only woman he had ever loved in his life was Lyanna Stark, the daughter of House Stark, who had the 'blood of the running wolf'.

However, he had a bastard daughter in the Vale and never stopped visiting brothels even after he was engaged, not even once.

Even Lyanna herself had told her brother Ned, 'She was sure that Robert loved her, but she could not prevent Robert from falling in love with other women in the future.'

After Robert and Cersei got married and he became the king, he did not restrain himself and went to brothels every now and then.

Therefore, neither Robert nor Cersei were people who played by the rules. They both cheated on each other, and it was just a matter of who was more cunning.

It was no wonder that Cersei was preparing to take her two children and find a way out. This woman valued her children more than anyone else.

Perhaps Cersei had already sensed the danger in King's Landing regarding the recent investigation of Jon Arryn.

Because of the arrival of winter, Jon Arryn did not dare to take action against her, as the old Hand of the King still had his wits about him.

But having missed this opportunity, Cersei, in order to protect herself, had no sense of the bigger picture and would not consider the issues of the allied forces and the White Walkers. She would take the initiative to eliminate the opposition.

As for why she wanted to throw herself at Viserys, it was because the 'Light of the West' had ample confidence in her own appearance.

She had golden hair and beautiful eyes. Although she had given birth to two children, time had not left a trace on her.

Some people had compared her to Rhaegar's beloved Lyanna Stark, saying that while Lyanna was indeed beautiful, the 'light of a torch' could not compete with the 'rising sun'.

But apart from her appearance, what was more important was that she could not lose her status as queen. She had already enjoyed the feeling of being above everyone else. If she lost her power and the attention of the public, she would go mad.

...

Robert, who was sound asleep with the girl in his arms, was completely unaware of the secret talks. The situation here in the allied forces was naturally to go all out to deal with the upcoming third great war between humans and the undead.

The human alliance against the army of the dead.

In fact, the army of the dead had not stopped during this period, they did not attack Karhold.

Instead, the land of the North was too vast. The land of House Stark alone might be the sum of the other six kingdoms. The army of the dead had already conquered half of Westeros by taking over the North.

It was just that due to the harsh climate and harsh environment of the North, the population was not very large. It was a situation of vast land and sparse population, so the main economic lifeline, population, and military power of the Seven Kingdoms were mainly concentrated in the Neck and south of it.

Humans had suffered two major defeats but were far from being completely defeated.

The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms could still muster a powerful force to continue fighting against the dead. As Viserys said, the Seven Kingdoms were far from desperate. People could also burst out with a strong will in times of crisis.

Viserys hoped to become a kind of savior-like figure descending on Westeros, and he was now waiting for such an opportunity.

Because the war had reached their doorstep, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms naturally could not slack off. They were fully preparing for the war, and a large number of trebuchets, giant crossbows, fire oil, and other strategic resources were constantly being transported to the front line at Karhold.

During this time, the army of the dead was spreading across the vast land of the North, sweeping all castles, towns, and villages like a plague.

"Heh—"

They marched aimlessly in the snowstorm, then pulled out one hopeful person after another.

Although most of the people in the North had already evacuated, even the bandits and wildlings had run away.

But there were still some people who defied the odds, unwilling to leave their homes, holding onto a glimmer of hope. Their ultimate fate was to become part of the army of the dead, turning into walking corpses.

Although their numbers were not large, when magnified to the entire vast North, it was still a significant number that could not be ignored.

All castles, towns, and villages were slaughtered by the army of the dead. The entire North had truly become a hell on earth, all signs of life were rapidly disappearing, becoming completely silent. The light of life was wiped out from this land.

The appearance of the White Walkers in Westeros was a major earthquake-level news for the entire Western world, even the Dothraki people on the Great Grass Sea were crazily fighting each other seemed irrelevant.

Not only was Viserys concerned about the White Walkers, but other Free Cities were also very concerned about this monster that had emerged from the Land of Always Winter.

An expedition team from Braavos set off from the Ragman's Harbor, landed at Widow's Watch, and then marched along the coast towards Long Barrow and Hornwood.

Fortunately, they did not encounter any attacks from the army of the dead throughout the journey. Unfortunately... they did not see any signs of life along the way.

Not only humans, even birds and beasts had disappeared in the vast snowstorm, everything was withering.

This was the desperate situation seen by the Braavos expedition team, and also the foreseeable tomorrow if Westeros fell.

The brave expedition team continued to advance into the dangerous depths of the North, but in the distant Sunset Sea, Bay of Seals, the vast snowstorm covered the bay, greatly affecting visibility.

And if anyone saw the scene happening in front of them, they would surely exclaim in surprise.

Because a large group of mindless wights, some only left with skeletal frames, some with unknown liquid flowing from the corners of their mouths, some with half of their bodies missing, but seemed to be guided by some imperceptible force, silently pushed a number of wooden boats into the sea.

Splash—

The sea waves were rolling, and the wooden boats collided with each other.

Then a White Walker, wearing ice armor
and a skeletal head, with a long white beard on his chin, stepped into the icy sea and climbed onto the boat that had been pushed into the sea. His eyes were burning with icy blue flames.

Following him was another White Walker, clearly female, also wearing ice armor. There seemed to be a metal badge on her chest, but it was not clear.

She carried a transparent ice bow and arrow on her back, had long brown hair, and her lifeless eyes lacked any human color.

Then she let out a piercing scream from her mouth, like a crack in the ice.

Countless wights on the shore began a silent march, pouring into the sea and climbing onto the boats that had been pushed into the sea.

Chapter 374: Blacktyde Island

This was an island in the vast sea, with winding sandy beaches and clean water constantly washing over the rocks at the edge of the coast.

Today was a fine day, sunny and cloudless. Above the towering cliffs was a fishing village, smoke rising from its chimneys.

Beneath the cliffs, on the nearby beach, a group of Ironborn, barefoot under the scorching sun, wearing wet short clothes and rolled-up trousers, were pulling their fishing boats ashore with ropes, shouting in unison.

Among them was a boy with brown hair and black eyes, his skin somewhat darkened from years of sun exposure. He slapped his palm, reddened from pulling the boat, and spat on the ground.

"Glenn, we had good luck today."

At this moment, a boy from the same village, who had also been pulling the boat with him, came up to him with a basket of fish.

They had set out to sea early in the morning, and after a morning of hard work, they returned home when the sun was at its fiercest.

For the islanders of this era, life was not stressful. They lived off the land and the sea, not dreaming of getting rich overnight. They could at least fill their stomachs by fishing, and if they couldn't catch fish, they could pick up some shells by the sea.

Today, their catch was good. They caught a lot of fish, some of which could be used for fresh fish soup, and the rest could be salted or dried. They wouldn't need to go out to sea for a while.

Glenn was a true Ironborn, born on Blacktyde Island, the northernmost of the Iron Islands.

Blacktyde Island was small, only about a tenth the size of Great Wyk, and sparsely populated. There were scattered villages and a simple castle. The lord of the island was House Blacktyde, a small and unremarkable family, whose sigil was a black and green fur pattern.

"Hmm?"

Hearing his friend's greeting, Glenn, who seemed somewhat distracted, looked up.

"Right!"

He managed a smile and high-fived his friend. As he watched his friend walk away, the smile on the dark-skinned boy's face gradually faded.

Glenn wasn't feeling well today. Although they had been lucky and caught a lot of fish, Glenn hadn't contributed much, and even let a big fish escape because he was distracted.

But his fellow villagers didn't blame him. Everyone had off days. They still split the catch evenly.

He didn't know why, but he always felt a sense of impending loss, as if some great danger was about to befall them, but nothing had actually happened.

"Drowned God above."

Glenn prayed silently in his heart, hoping that the great Drowned God, who had suffered so much, would protect the Ironborn.

"Huh."

The dark-skinned boy stood on the beach with his basket of fish, shook his head, and sighed, trying to clear his mind of worries.

Then he picked up his basket of fish and headed home, where his elderly mother was waiting for him.

His mother had once been a salt wife his father had taken from the Greenlands. She had borne his father a son, and in Glenn's memory, she had hated his father intensely.

But with his father's death, his mother gradually stopped talking about her old home, and was now even urging Glenn to act like a true Ironborn and seize a wife for himself.

"My own woman..."

The thought always made the dark-skinned boy feel hot, but he didn't have the courage to follow Lord Blacktyde to sea and 'follow the old way', let alone kill.

Not long ago, it seemed that Lord Baelor Blacktyde had taken advantage of the civil war in the Seven Kingdoms to raid the ships passing by the Westerlands.

The Ironborn dared to harass the coastal lords from time to time even when they were subject to the Iron Throne, let alone now when the nobles of the Greenlands were too busy to care about them.

"I heard they're in big trouble now..."

"Something... like White Walkers."

Glenn was lost in thought as he carried his basket of fish, but he didn't notice that far out at sea, behind him, the vague shapes of warships were gradually appearing.

They were densely packed, covering the entire sea, and were heading towards Blacktyde Island.

...

The disaster struck suddenly.

Glenn was at home, cooking a pot of rich fish soup, enduring his mother's endless chatter, when suddenly there was a panicked shout from the village, as if something terrifying had happened.

His mother's reaction was quicker and more alert than Glenn's. The years had given her too many stories.

She immediately told Glenn to drop his ladle and go out to see what had happened, and she also took out a curved blade that Glenn's father had left behind and gave it to her son.

"There might be pirates attacking Blacktyde Island."

But who would dare to attack the Iron Islands, the home of the greatest pirates?

But his mother's words still scared Glenn. But looking into his mother's eyes, he plucked up the courage to take his father's curved blade, and then turned and ran out.

But the situation outside was even worse than a pirate attack.

Because Glenn, who had just stepped out of his house with his curved blade, saw a friend who had gone fishing with him this morning and had said goodbye to him before leaving, acting like a madman.

His eyes were a deep blue, saliva dripped from his mouth, and his body was covered in bright red blood. He had knocked down an old man in the village and was biting him fiercely.

An Ironborn came out and shouted, bravely drawing his sword to kill the mad villager.

But at that moment, he was pierced through the chest by an ice arrow that came flying from nowhere, his body was shot and pinned to the mud wall behind him.

A woman with brown hair, her eyes burning with icy blue flames, was holding an ice bow. Her face was as cold as the flames in her eyes. She shot and killed an Ironborn with one arrow, and then her gaze fell on Glenn.

The dark-skinned boy met the woman's gaze and shivered. He had no desire to avenge his friend, instead, he turned and ran.

"Mother!"

Glenn ran back to his house, grabbed his mother, and ran towards the outskirts of the village.

But by now, the entire small fishing village was filled with the sounds of wailing and howling.

Not long after...

The screams that filled the fishing village gradually quieted down, and then it became eerily silent.

Chapter 375: Asha

"By my reckoning, Euron should have arrived in Pentos with our gifts by now."

In Pyke Castle, a gloomy corridor connects the main keep and the Bloody Keep. Legend has it that thousands of years ago, a River King had all his sons slaughtered here while they slept, their dismembered bodies returned to their father. Hence, the Bloody Keep got its name. The castle exterior is covered in white salt crystals and green lichen, while the interior is pitch black, sealed tight, and eerily silent.

A gaunt man, his face somewhat haggard, sits in the grand hall of the Bloody Keep, a goblet of crimson wine in his hand. A plate of roasted sausages and pickled fish sits before him. He is Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands, now wearing the driftwood crown he was forced to remove years ago due to rebellion.

To his left sits his younger brother, Victarion, and to his right, his eldest daughter, Asha Greyjoy. Asha, the same age as Viserys, had just completed her coming-of-age ceremony last year. She is slim, with long legs, short black hair, and an upturned nose.

"Father, do you think Viserys will agree to our terms?" Asha asks, cutting a piece of beef with her knife and fork, then popping it into her mouth. She is as fiery and hot-tempered as any man, chewing her beef while voicing her concerns.

This is a family feast of House Greyjoy. However, Balon's second brother, Euron, has been sent on a mission to Pentos, and his fourth brother, Aeron, is conducting a Drowned God ceremony on Great Wyk Island. Only Asha and Victarion remain in Pyke Castle.

"Hmph, if he doesn't agree, we'll go to the Baratheons," Balon scoffs, still dining, his knife gleaming. "Even if he does agree, we'll still contact the Baratheons."

"Asha, you must understand. If the Ironborn are to conquer the Green Lands and plunder more wealth, land, and women, we must keep sowing chaos. We absolutely cannot let them settle down."

Asha understands her father's words. He wants to play both sides, using the advantage of their iron fleet to maintain a balance, keeping the Green Lands in constant chaos. This has been the method of countless generations of Ironborn.

However, Asha is somewhat dissatisfied with her father's talk of plundering wealth, land, and women. Not because she sympathizes with the girls who are plundered, but because she wants to plunder men, to capture more handsome men and bring them back to the Iron Islands as her 'salt husbands'. Why should only men be allowed to plunder women?

Balon, of course, has no idea what his daughter is thinking. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't blame her. After all, his youngest son, Theon, has been a hostage for many years, adopted as a ward by Lord Eddard Stark. Asha is his only heir.

What Balon hasn't mentioned to Asha is that he plans to contact Robert Baratheon next, using the threat of House Targaryen to try and retrieve his son Theon.

But at this moment, the girl looks at her father, whom she admires. His face is gaunt, his long hair streaked with white, and he rarely smiles. His white beard trembles slightly as he chews his sausage, then he emphasizes again, "He will agree."

Just then...

Clang—

The sound of metal chains echoes from outside the hall. A maester with white hair and a grey robe hurries in from outside the Bloody Keep. He is Maester Qyburn of Pyke Castle, now holding a short note in his hand. He speaks urgently, "King Balon, there's trouble!"

He has received a distress signal from Blacktyde Island. The Drowned God priest on the island sent the message. They claim they have been attacked by the Others, and most of the island has fallen. Only the castle is still holding out.

As Maester Qyburn's words fall, the Bloody Keep falls silent.

Balon, sitting at the head of the table, continues to eat, slowly chewing a piece of sausage as if he hasn't heard what Maester Qyburn is saying.

On the other hand, Balon's younger brother, Victarion, has been silent all along. He is a tall and formidable man, a fierce warrior and capable fleet commander on the battlefield. Off the battlefield, he is calm and composed.

But at this moment, after hearing Maester Qyburn's words, Victarion finds it hard to believe. He slams his knife and fork on the table and speaks in a low voice, "Maester Qyburn, you're not joking, are you? Those Others don't have ships. Did they swim to Blacktyde Island?"

Victarion doesn't want to believe it, while Asha, on the other hand, looks anxiously at her father. Unlike her uncle, Asha believes that Blacktyde Island wouldn't dare to joke about this.

"Father, what should we do?"

Whether the Others can row boats or swim, since they can silently attack Blacktyde Island, they could appear in King's Landing at any moment.

Her father had just
decided to sit back and watch the fight, confident that the Iron Islands wouldn't be attacked by the Others. He wanted the usurpers and Viserys to fight each other until both sides were weakened.

But not long after her father had made this decision, the Others attacked the Iron Islands.

Asha is curious about what kind of decision her father will make at this moment.

"Sir..."

Maester Qyburn, hearing Victarion's doubts and seeing King Balon's indifference, becomes more anxious.

"Vic."

At this moment, King Balon finally speaks.

His face is grim, and he doesn't know what he's thinking. He grips his knife and fork tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

"Take the fleet and see for yourself."

Chapter 376: Rescue of Blacktyde Island

Regardless of the reasons, since Blacktyde Island had sent a distress call, as the King of the Iron Islands, Balon Greyjoy was obliged to respond. Otherwise, he would lose face among the Ironborn.

Therefore, Balon dispatched his battle-hardened younger brother, Victarion, to lead the Iron Fleet, docked at King's Port, to Blacktyde Island to investigate the situation.

Among the four Greyjoy brothers, the eldest, Balon Greyjoy, was ruthless but responsible. He was stubborn, fearless, competitive, and uncompromising, a true Iron King who took the revival of the Ironborn as his duty.

The second brother, 'Euron the Crow's Eye', was wicked and cunning, selfish and self-serving. His ambition was in stark contrast to his elder brother's desire for the true revival of the Ironborn. He only wanted to do what was beneficial for himself.

If Euron were here, his ideas might be diametrically opposed to Balon's.

The third brother, Victarion, might not make a qualified Iron King as his ambition could not overcome his sense of responsibility. However, he was an excellent commander and captain.

He greatly admired his elder brother Balon. When Balon spoke, Victarion would close his mouth and not say anything more. He put down his cutlery, pushed away his plate, and stood up from his seat.

"Very well, brother," Victarion said, ready to lead the Iron Fleet to Blacktyde Island.

Watching his tall and mighty younger brother leave, Balon, sitting at the head of the table, nodded in satisfaction.

"Asha, you should learn more from your uncle," he said. "He is the bravest captain in the world. No one can defeat him as long as he is on his ship."

Not long after, the horn of King's Port on Pyke Island sounded, and Victarion, clad in heavy armor and wielding a huge axe, stood on the bow of his flagship, the 'Iron Victory'.

His golden cloak fluttered in the sea breeze, and the kraken banner of House Greyjoy fluttered in the wind.

"Set sail!" With Victarion's command, the Iron Fleet, ready for battle, left King's Port. Under the red sunset, they cut through the waves and headed towards Blacktyde Island.

...

Blacktyde Island was located at the northernmost point of the Iron Islands, while Pyke Island was at the southernmost point.

However, the Iron Islands were not large, with only seven main islands and a few insignificant islets.

It took Victarion only half a day to lead the Iron Fleet from King's Port to Blacktyde Island. However, since they set sail in the evening, it was already midnight when they arrived at Blacktyde Island.

"It's a bit eerie, too quiet," Victarion commented as they approached the island.

The entire Blacktyde Island was silent, as if asleep. There was no sign of an attack, and everything seemed unusually peaceful.

But considering the time, it was indeed the time for the Ironborn to sleep.

"Brother, what should we do?" Victarion's first mate, the 'One-Eared' Woffe, who only had one ear left, asked.

They didn't know what had happened on Blacktyde Island. Victarion had only mentioned that the island had been attacked, and then they had rushed over.

"Something's not right," Victarion said, his unease growing as they neared Blacktyde Island. This was the keen intuition of a seasoned warrior.

After all, Blacktyde Island was too quiet. Only the sound of waves hitting the ship's hull and the Ironborn securing their longships could be heard.

If it was true that the Others had attacked Blacktyde Island as the raven's message had said, why was it so quiet?

And the person who asked for help was not the lord of Blacktyde Island, Baelor Blacktyde, who had gone to harass the Shield Islands recently. It was a priest on Blacktyde Island who had sent the distress message. Could this distress message be a disguise...

Victarion was a seasoned warrior, but he was not a brute. His mind was clear.

He carefully weighed the whole matter and felt that something was unusual.

But if they came to Blacktyde Island and didn't even set foot on the island, and didn't even know what had happened, Victarion wouldn't be able to explain to his elder brother.

After taking a sip of strong wine from his flask, Victarion made up his mind and said to his first mate, Woffe.

"Tell the brothers to keep their eyes open. We're going to land on Blacktyde Island!"

"Understood!" Hearing his captain's words, Woffe nodded.

He then went to tell the brothers to be vigilant. There might be something unusual on Blacktyde Island, and they should be ready for battle at any time.

Not long after, under Victarion's command, the Iron Fleet gradually approached the beach of Blacktyde Island.

The waves lapped against the beach.

It was dangerous to approach reefs in the dark while sailing at night. The sandy beach was relatively safer.

The longships approached the beach, and the Ironborn silently jumped off the ships.

They jumped into the thigh-deep seawater, holding ropes to push the ships onto the shallow beach and secure them to prevent them from being carried away by the waves.

The Ironborn didn't need any command to do these things. They were very experienced, having used these methods to attack the coastal villages of the Green Lands, even carrying their ships to raid.

Victarion also set foot on the beach of Blacktyde Island, holding a huge axe in one hand and watching the Ironborn busy securing the ships. He then looked around.

The surroundings were as silent as death, with only the sound of waves hitting the beach and the Ironborn securing their longships.

"Something's... off," Victarion said, his unease growing since he set foot on the island.

His breathing was slightly heavy, and he kept looking around, as if trying to detect something.

But unfortunately, the night on Blacktyde Island was dark, and the moonlight was dim. His sight was limited, and he couldn't see far.

At this moment, a shadow seemed to flash past Victarion's field of vision.

Chapter 377: Euron's Submission

"Who's there?"

Victarion was instantly on alert, his unease peaking at this moment.

"Torches!"

Unable to bear it any longer, the Iron Fleet's captain ordered his men to light torches to dispel the surrounding darkness and see what was happening.

Whoosh~

In an instant, the torches were lit, and the surrounding darkness was dispelled.

Victarion took a torch and looked towards the place where the shadow had just moved, and his breath immediately tightened.

As the only light in the darkness, countless shadows had gathered on the beach, their numerous pairs of eerie blue eyes all looking at Victarion.

The next second.

Terrifying screams came from these creatures' mouths, and then they surged towards the Ironborn like a tide.

"Run!"

"Everyone, into the sea!"

When Victarion saw the mountainous and sea-like wave of wights rushing towards them, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Push the longships into the sea!"

Victarion then swung his huge axe, knocking down a wight with a single blow, and then roared loudly at the men behind him.

But at this point, there was no need for Victarion's orders. All the Ironborn knew what to do.

They had demonstrated countless times when raiding the Green Lands. When trouble arose, they would quickly escape to the sea. On the sea, the Ironborn were invincible, and they were all skilled swimmers.

However, the wights surged up faster than the Ironborn could push their ships. They let out terrifying screams and knocked the sailors to the ground one by one.

"Kill!"

Although Victarion was startled, he did not panic and remained calm, fighting desperately. Swinging his axe left and right, he cut the attacking wights in half.

But there were too many wights, and they were fearless. The fierce Ironborn were retreating step by step, suffering heavy casualties.

"Die!"

Victarion lifted his axe and once again cut an attacking wight in half.

The axe fiercely struck the beach, sending sand flying. His body was covered in splattered blood, his face looked somewhat ferocious, and he was panting heavily.

The situation was dire.

Sweat continuously dripped from his forehead, and Victarion clenched his teeth.

As a veteran of the Iron Islands, he naturally saw the situation on the battlefield clearly.

The Ironborn were finished. This Iron Fleet would be buried on this beach.

And it was all because of his negligence. If he had been a little more careful...

"Damn it!"

Victarion now just wanted to slap himself in the face, but it was too late to regret it now.

The night was thick, and the battle on the beach of Blacktyde Island continued.

Crack—

Victarion once again knocked down several wights, then without hesitation, he turned around and plunged into the sea.

...

Time passed quickly.

In the year 292 AC, November.

The army of the dead attacked the Iron Islands by boat.

This news, like a nuclear bomb, caused an unprecedented earthquake in the Free Cities.

Originally, the people of the Free Cities were bystanders to the disaster in Westeros, and some even took pleasure in it.

But now that the Others had attacked the Iron Islands by boat, it meant that they could potentially cross the sea and attack Essos at any time.

This made the lords of the Free Cities restless. They did not want to see the war burn their homes.

In the city of Pentos, Viserys, hearing this news, quickly convened a meeting. High-ranking commanders all attended.

The main purpose was to make a preliminary decision on the plan to attack Westeros. Everyone could express their opinions because the fact that the Others could sail boats indeed made Viserys feel threatened and urgent.

However, the Iron Islands, which had actually been attacked by the army of the dead from the sea, became an object of no concern.

The final result of the Battle of Blacktyde Island was that the Iron Fleet led by Victarion fell into an ambush and was annihilated.

The Ironborn who had luckily escaped back to Pyke Island claimed that Victarion had jumped into the sea.

But Balon sent people to search but did not find Victarion's whereabouts. The fate of this Iron Fleet captain is still unknown.

The Ironborn speculated that perhaps he had returned to the Drowned God's watery halls, for the Drowned God needed a great captain...

When the news of the Others attacking the Iron Islands reached Pentos, Euron Greyjoy, who had led an Iron Fleet here more than half a month ago, was also shocked.

He never expected that he would suddenly become a homeless dog.

However, the cunning and crazy Euron did not panic because of this, but quickly calmed down.

His inherent madness made him keenly judge that this was both a huge crisis that could destroy the Greyjoy family and even the Iron Islands, but also an unprecedented opportunity. If he seized the opportunity, he could rise to power.

Swinging between family and personal interests, Euron, the captain of the Silence, made a quick decision after brief contemplation.

He made a bold decision. He did not plan to lead his fleet back to the Iron Islands, but instead actively sought out Viserys to express his willingness to submit, leading his fleet to join the Targaryen army to help the true king reclaim the Iron Throne.

Viserys was somewhat surprised by Euron's sudden submission. In his impression, Euron should be an ambitious and extremely crazy person.

He thought that Euron would lead his fleet back to the Iron Islands as soon as he received the news, consolidate the people's hearts and stabilize the situation, but he did not expect the other party to be even crazier than he thought.

He simply abandoned his home.

But after all, Euron was an experienced captain, and he also led a powerful Iron Fleet second only to the fleet of Dragonstone.

The sailors and Ironborn on the ship were all good at naval warfare. Although it was just icing on the cake, Viserys still accepted Euron's allegiance.

Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Dreadfort, Gregor 'The Mountain' Clegane, who was still half-dead in the water prison, the schemer Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish, and now Euron.

Viserys suddenly found that he had gathered all the notorious villains of the Seven Kingdoms, both present and future.

The Others bypassed the Neck and attacked the Iron Islands from the sea, and Euron led the Iron Fleet to submit.

Boom—

Like a stampede, more than twenty thousand Dothraki screamers who had settled on the Great Plains rushed to Pentos. The Targaryen family finally began to gather strength and show their real muscle.

And at this time.

Also half a month ago, Maester Marwyn, who had arrived in Pentos almost at the same time as Euron, made a breakthrough in his work of translating the ancient texts.

Chapter 378: Maester Marwyn

'Maester' Marwyn arrived in Pentos half a month ago, his purpose being to find Viserys. However, this was not their first meeting. They had a brief encounter before.

The stout, battle-hardened maester that Viserys and Mia had met in the ruins of Valyria was none other than Marwyn. Unfortunately, at that time, they did not recognize each other, and thus, there was no interaction.

When Viserys received the renowned 'Mage' Marwyn in his study, he immediately recognized him. When Viserys and Mia had escaped the ruins of Valyria on the back of Balerion, Marwyn had also somehow managed to escape the ruins.

However, without a dragon, Marwyn could not fly as fast as Viserys, who had returned to Pentos in just a few days. Marwyn had seen the dragon descend that night and guessed that it might be Viserys. He then discreetly left the ruins of Valyria, boarded a merchant ship, and traveled all the way to Pentos, finally finding the rumored young dragon lord.

Marwyn differed from the other maesters of the Citadel. He was always a maverick. His philosophy was at odds with that of the Citadel. The Citadel hoped to create a world dominated by knowledge, where maesters would promote human progress and the development of productivity. In this world, there would be no magic, no dragons, and perhaps even no gods. Nothing that could threaten human development.

But Marwyn was a maester who studied magic and the occult. He was the only one in the entire Citadel to have earned a Valyrian steel link. Naturally, his views differed from those of the other maesters. He even referred to his colleagues as 'grey sheep.' He believed that since these mystical powers existed in the world, they must have a reason for their existence.

Humans should study magic and master it to bring about a better life.

After receiving Marwyn and understanding his intentions, Viserys immediately handed over some of the precious books he had brought back from the ruins of Valyria for him to proofread.

Some of these books were so old that their contents had become blurred, and they were so fragile that they would crumble at the slightest touch. Some were even stuck together and could not be separated by hand. They required special techniques to peel the pages apart.

Many of the Valyrian-era books that Viserys had brought back were severely damaged, which Marwyn found somewhat heartbreaking.

However, there was no helping it. When Viserys had fled with these books, he had been attacked by a demonic dragon and had only escaped after a desperate struggle, so it was inevitable that the books would be damaged.

After receiving these books, Marwyn began to study and translate them diligently, trying to decipher their original meanings from the blurred characters.

Now, his research had made a significant breakthrough, revealing a major secret.

"Your Grace."

The stout old maester, who looked like a bull, hurried over. At that moment, Viserys was in the garden, playing with a young dragon.

It was the little silver dragon that had hatched from the fifth egg. Its mother might have encountered some difficulties during its birth, or perhaps there was not enough magic within her, resulting in the young dragon being undernourished from birth and appearing incredibly weak.

But it still managed to break out of its shell due to its strong will to live.

"Silver Nugget."

In Valyrian, 'silver nugget' and 'silver' had similar meanings, so it could also be called 'Silver.'

His reason was that a good name would help it grow. As the father who had personally hatched five little dragons, he did not expect Silver Nugget, in its current state, to become a terrifying sky dominator. It would be enough for it to grow up smoothly.

As Viserys was playing with Silver Nugget, who had grown a little, Marwyn hurried over. He had made a significant discovery in his translation work.

The owner of these books was of no ordinary status. Viserys speculated that he was at least one of the forty ancient nobles, equal to or even higher than the Targaryens. Naturally, the books he collected were incredibly precious.

And Marwyn had extracted a word from these books.

"'Demon.'"

"Demon?"

Viserys stood up, looking somewhat puzzled.

And the little silver dragon spread its wings and landed on his shoulder. Although Marwyn's expression was serious, he couldn't help but take a few extra glances at the presence of the young dragon.

"These little creatures are truly the most beautiful beings in the world."

Then the 'Bull Maester' couldn't help but exclaim. He was obsessed with magic and all things mystical, and dragons were no exception.

Their soaring figures in the sky fascinated him. The reason he had come to find Viserys was to get a closer look at the dragons.

Marwyn's disciple had thought the same. She was Mirri Maz Duur, who had followed Viserys early on.

Unfortunately, although the witch possessed magical powers, she was not prepared for the malice of men and was killed by Jorah Mormont.

However, despite his fascination with dragons, Marwyn did not forget why he had come. He quickly composed himself and spoke again.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"From the information I've compiled over this period, I have solid evidence that the Freehold of Valyria had extensive connections with 'demons.'"

Chapter 379: Breath of the Demon

"A demon?"

Viserys furrowed his brows as he spoke.

"Maester, are you jesting?"

Skepticism was written all over Viserys' face. Demons were merely the stuff of legends, how could they possibly exist?

However, upon hearing Maester Marwyn's words, a chill ran down the spine of the silver-haired youth.

The books he had given to Maester Marwyn for verification were not all he possessed. He also had a book given to him by a Valyrian nobleman who had been demonized before his death.

Although Viserys didn't understand what the nobleman wanted to express, the book was more like a miscellany, perhaps something the Valyrian nobleman wrote himself, sensing the impending crisis, wanting to tell something to the future generations.

The term 'demon' was mentioned in it.

After returning to Pentos, Viserys had perused this miscellany. However, the content was very chaotic, and many parts were already blurred. Coupled with the language changes over hundreds of years, Viserys found it somewhat difficult to read.

The entire book was filled with words like 'demon', 'black', 'terror', and so on.

Viserys had once suspected whether there was any real deal between Valyria and the legendary demons.

Later.

That very night, Viserys had a dream related to the Doomsday catastrophe of Valyria.

...

He dreamt of the sky collapsing, the earth tearing apart, seawater pouring into the sinking continent, submerging palaces, towns, and temples. The Fourteen Flames that spanned the Valyrian Peninsula spewed thick black fog, hundreds of demon dragons soared in the sky, emitting silent roars.

He saw a giant with a white beard, a seven-star crown on his head, and a warhammer in his hand. He saw a lady wrapped in a black robe, her arms around her knees, crying silently. He saw a floating corpse with its hands and feet chained. He saw a black goat gnawing on flesh. He saw a black bird grooming its feathers with pale eyes. He saw a sun...

"Who are these people..."

However, in the end, he saw all the faces of the beings swapping.

Viserys felt a sudden tightness in his chest, as if a large hand was suddenly strangling his neck, making it impossible for him to breathe.

The giant with the white beard was wrapped in the black robe, the crying lady raised the goat's head, the floating corpse with its hands and feet chained turned into a black bird and flew away...

Just as the silver-haired youth was looking at these 'monsters' in a bit of panic, he didn't notice a pair of pale hands slowly crawling up his neck.

However, the grandeur of the Doomsday catastrophe of Valyria continued.

This was not the first time Viserys had dreamt of the Doomsday scene. He had dreamt of it many years ago, but there were no such bizarre scenes at that time, just the end-of-the-world scene of the world collapsing.

But at this moment, Viserys seemed to faintly hear the land wailing and weeping in his dream.

The mother and son who had been reunited after a long separation in his first dream turned into ashes under the gushing lava once again.

The black fog rising from the Fourteen Flames turned into a fist and slammed into the sky. The jade hand that was about to climb up his neck suddenly retracted.

Then the fist made of black fog exploded and turned into a rain of black blood. The red clouds rained shattered dragon crystals, and the Fourteen Flames collapsed into fourteen bottomless abysses.

And the Valyrian Peninsula was shattered in an instant under the heavy hammer, the turbulent waves swept across the land of eternal summer, even Slaver's Bay did not escape, a large number of pyramids were destroyed, the city walls collapsed.

And the Freehold of Valyria, the most prosperous, powerful, and famous empire in human history that could challenge the gods, disappeared without a trace.

Viserys woke up from this nightmare, sitting up abruptly. His soft feather bed was soaked with his sweat, and cold sweat was still dripping from his forehead onto the luxurious velvet bedding.

The Princess of Dorne, Arianne Martell, who was sleeping next to the young king, and the third Sand Snake sister were also awakened. Tyene, naked, was wrapped around Viserys, gently kissing his chest.

However, after Viserys had calmed his emotions, he did not tell the two women the details of the dream, but simply held Arianne lightly and told them he had a nightmare.

...

The fact that Viserys had a nightmare was known only to Arianne and Tyene, and the women who shared the bed with Viserys did not know what he had dreamt of.

The viewpoint put forward by Maester Marwyn was even more surprising. He not only believed that the legendary hell and demons truly existed, but also believed that the Valyrians had made a deal with these demons.

The weapons of Valyrian steel, the powerful magic mastered by the Valyrians, the endless exploration of the underworld beneath the Fourteen Flames by countless slaves, all these were directly related to demons.

And all these traces could be found in the precious books provided by Viserys.

For example, a book on the forging of Valyrian steel mentioned that the key to forging Valyrian steel was to use the 'Breath of the Demon' to purify the steel and imbue it with magic.

Maester Marwyn was very certain that this term was the word 'demon' in High Valyrian. As for what the Breath of the Demon was, Maester Marwyn himself did not know, but according to the description in the book, it seemed to be a kind of black gas.

And also, a travelogue recorded:

'A nobleman of high lineage from the Freehold, his dignity was challenged by a commoner. Although the citizens of the Freehold have rights, this is not enough to challenge the honor of the Beleris family.'

'This lord punished this poor fellow with his magic. He turned into a cloud of black fog, then appeared in front of him, strangled his neck, and then stripped the poor wretch of his life.'

"It seems to be a magic that only the highest nobles of the Freehold can master."

"Beleris family?"

Viserys' expression moved slightly when he heard the name of the Beleris family.

Because the signature of that miscellany was Beleris, it seemed that the family he had entered was the Beleris family.

"Your Majesty's guess is correct, the source of these books may indeed be the Beleris family."

Maester Marwyn confirmed Viserys' guess because he had seen the shepherd's emblem on the bookmark.

And among those books, there was one about exploring the continent of Sothoryos, and the author of this book was Jennela Beleris.

She had flown her dragon to the southernmost part of the known world in search of the legendary boiling sea and steaming rivers.

She went further than any previous expedition—yet all she saw were endless rainforests, deserts, and mountains.

When she returned to the Free
hold of Valyria three years later, she claimed that Sothoryos was as large as Essos, an 'endless continent.'

The viewpoint put forward by Maester Marwyn would certainly cause a great sensation if it were spread out, but perhaps not many people would believe it, most would listen to it as a joke.

However, Viserys believed his words, because he was the host of the black fog, and more importantly, because of the dream he had.

"Valyria declared war on the gods, and the gods destroyed Valyria."

"But the soul of Valyria did not die..."

Dong——

The melodious bell of the Nine Towers Palace rang out, reaching far and wide.

Chapter 380: Changing the Hand of the King

The bells of Pentos echoed melodiously.

Rumble——

The thundering of hooves, the shouts of men, an endless sea of horses swept across the land.

Twenty thousand Dothraki screamers, loyal to the Dragon Khal, arrived at the foot of Pentos. The city's guards were on high alert, the city gates were closed, and the citizens of Pentos were plunged into a state of high panic.

However, the roar of dragons in the sky followed, and the Dothraki, astride their horses, waved their arakhs, fanatically shouting the name of the Dragon Khal. The sound was earth-shattering.

"Khal Dragon!!"

"Ohhhh!!!"

The most powerful Khal rode the strongest horse, and their Khal had tamed a dragon. What did this mean? It was simply the strongest on the surface of the earth!

They had been recuperating on the Great Grass Sea for so long that they felt their arakhs had become dull. Now, they finally received the order to cross the Poison Water and attack the Seven Kingdoms.

"We will ride the wooden horses! Cross the Poison Water!"

"Cut off the heads of those cowards hiding under iron! Tear down their stone houses! Defile their women! Kill their children, all those taller than a wheel must die!"

The Dothraki were full of momentum.

The Dragon Khal, wielding a Valyrian steel arakh, rode at the forefront of the formation. His muscular upper body was bare, and he roared loudly in the Dothraki language, his beard trembling slightly.

"For the Dragon Khal to reclaim the Iron Throne!!"

"Ohhh!!!"

Khal Drogo's roar incited a fanatical cheer from the Dothraki, who joined in the clamor, making all sorts of eerie noises.

Since the Century of Blood, the Dothraki, as destroyers of civilization, had trampled countless city-states across the continent of Essos. The Seven Kingdoms had narrowly escaped their wrath due to the Narrow Sea.

But now, under the leadership of the great Dragon Khal, the children of the Horse God were about to cross the Narrow Sea and conquer new lands.

Khal Drogo, the deputy leader of the Windblown, was in charge of these twenty thousand Dothraki screamers in place of Viserys.

This brave and skilled Dothraki mercenary seemed to be descended from a renowned Khal. He wielded one of the rare arakhs forged from dragon steel.

Khal Drogo had been injured in the operation to capture the Faceless Man, but the Faceless Man had not fared much better against him, also being severely injured and ultimately dying at the hands of Viserys.

Khal Drogo's injuries had naturally healed, and to facilitate the management of the khalasar, this Dothraki had now become a bloodrider of the Dragon Khal.

"Qoy qoyi!"

Khal Drogo saw Viserys dismount from the dragon and immediately dismounted, placing his arakh in front of him and kneeling on one knee, shouting "Blood of my blood" in Dothraki.

Viserys helped him up.

Then the massive horde of Dothraki entered Pentos.

Although the Dothraki were savage, they did not wreak havoc when they entered the city-states. They wore fine clothes, sprayed perfume, and tried to appear civilized.

But in their own tribes, they bared their chests, wore painted leather vests, tied horsehair leggings, and wore bronze belts.

The Dothraki's entry into Pentos symbolized that the vanguard of the first batch to enter Westeros in the war plan was ready.

...

At the tense pre-war meeting.

Oberyn Martell was the first to resign as acting Hand of the King.

He had been looking forward to this moment for a long time. He wanted to personally lead the troops to invade Westeros and kill all those who had conspired to murder his sister.

Therefore, he could not stay behind to oversee the overall situation.

At the same time, Oberyn nominated a candidate that surprised everyone.

It has been a tradition for the outgoing Hand of the King in the Targaryen dynasty to recommend a successor to the king.

Before Jeffrey Bracken resigned as Hand of the King to serve exclusively as Master of Ships, he had recommended Oberyn to Viserys as the next Hand.

However, Oberyn's term was somewhat short, just over half a year, after which he voluntarily resigned and recommended Jon Connington, with whom he had a somewhat strained relationship, as Master of Laws.

Oberyn's recommendation for the former Hand of the Targaryen dynasty to return to office was indeed unexpected.

Did Jon Connington have the ability?

That was beyond doubt.

Jon Connington had been the Hand of King Aerys II, had personally commanded all the troops loyal to the royal family to fight against the four major families of the usurper's alliance, and had managed the distribution of resources across the country in an orderly manner. He was highly capable.

Unfortunately, Jon Connington was ultimately defeated and failed to save the crumbling Targaryen dynasty.

But there were many factors in the defeat, and it was not necessarily all his fault.

Jon Connington's ability and experience as Hand of the King were unquestionable and perfectly suited to the current situation.

However... the problem was that Oberyn's relationship with him was not very harmonious, and there were even some conflicts.

But even so, Oberyn was willing to recommend him, which indeed surprised and impressed everyone present.

Jon Connington was also quite in line with Viserys's expectations for the next Hand of the King.

Although the new dynasty was full of talent, only Jon had relevant work experience, so he was naturally the best choice for the next Hand.

The first Hand of the King in the new dynasty, Jeffrey Bracken, earned the position through his outstanding contributions, while the second Hand, Oberyn, was chosen for his high education, with six maester's chains unmatched by anyone.

Viserys was satisfied with Oberyn's recommendation and then sought Jon Connington's opinion.

Jon was indeed a bit surprised, but he didn't refuse and nodded in agreement.

Oberyn handed the Hand's badge to Jon Connington, and their positions were officially swapped.

Oberyn became the Master of Laws, and Jon took up the position of Hand of the King, wearing the badge on his chest.

As the Hand of the King appointed during wartime, Jon Connington's mission was undoubtedly revenge, whether it was personal revenge or revenge for the Targaryen family.

Winning the upcoming war and reclaiming the Iron Throne was the ultimate goal of the entire army.

But there was a bigger obstacle in front of this goal: repelling the attack of the White Walkers.

This was an enemy that all of humanity had to face together.

Viserys had wanted to wait a bit longer, but the news of the White Walkers attacking the Iron Islands by boat was the last straw that broke his patience.

Chapter 381: Cersei's Plan

"Demons."

"White Walkers."

"Gods."

At night, Viserys sat quietly in his study, lost in thought.

Recent events had been overwhelming, causing him a rare sense of anxiety. The matter of the black fog had always been his primary concern, as it pertained to his own safety. Now, this mystery seemed to be on the brink of resolution.

Combining the notes left by the Valyrian nobles with the nightmare he had experienced, he could make some deductions.

"Dreams in this world often carry strong implications. I seldom dream, but when I do, they are always of unusual things."

"The gods destroyed Valyria because they discovered that the Valyrians were trading with demons..."

"The Valyrians' rapid rise from a small nomadic tribe to the 'Dragonlords' was due to a deal with demons?"

"But what... what exactly are these demons?"

Viserys held a wine glass in his hand, the clear liquid swaying in the crystal goblet. He took a sip.

He had once been a man who despised tobacco and alcohol, but now, faced with vexing matters, he couldn't help but use them to distract himself.

In all the books he had collected that mentioned the word 'demon', none explained what these 'demons' truly were.

What did they look like? Three heads? Nine arms?

Or did the Valyrian word for 'demon' or 'sin' carry other meanings? Perhaps the Valyrians weren't referring to this concept at all.

Unfortunately, the information Viserys could gather was scarce. Archmaester Marwyn had explained that only a few of the most powerful families among the forty ancient houses held the core secrets of the Freehold.

The 'Shepherds' or 'Dragonlords' of House Belaerys held this secret, but House Targaryen, at the bottom of the forty houses, was not included.

The 'Dreamer' Daenys Targaryen had only prophesied a coming crisis, leading the entire family to relocate to Dragonstone, which was once an outpost of the Freehold.

The powerful Freehold had enslaved many civilizations, but never set foot in Westeros.

According to the records of House Targaryen, a legendary prophet of Valyria had foreseen that a crisis that could destroy the world would arise from the Sunset Sea region, so the Freehold stopped at Dragonstone.

"If the dream I had was real, then the towering black fog I saw as I fled Valyria might be the remains of one of the Fourteen Flames."

Viserys couldn't help but think, and then a flood of questions surged forth.

"So what exactly is beneath the remains of the Fourteen Flames?"

"Where does that bottomless abyss lead to?"

"The Seven Hells? Or the home of the demons?"

"Why were the Valyrians so obsessed with capturing slaves from all over the world and sending them to die beneath the Fourteen Flames? What were they trying to find in the depths of the earth?"

He had thought that the information obtained from this operation would be enough to unravel the mystery of the black fog, but it seemed to have revealed a greater secret and piqued Viserys's curiosity.

However, curiosity aside, Viserys remained very calm, knowing that now was not the time to stir up trouble.

The problem of the White Walkers had not been resolved, and he should not provoke the legendary demons yet, or the world would be in chaos.

Unless he could perform some sort of space-time transfer, sending the White Walkers and the army of the dead, who had now swallowed the entire North, and whatever Night King, all to the ruins of Valyria.

Let the monstrous creatures, humans, sea monsters, and dragons in the ruins of Valyria fight with these armies of the dead.

If that were possible, Viserys would look forward to it.

Then his gaze fell on the map not far away, and the military plan discussed by all the lords loyal to House Targaryen during the day.

The Dothraki and the Golden Company would serve as the vanguard. The Dothraki wanted to kill, and the Golden Company craved honor. They would be the first to land in Westeros.

And the Andal and Rhoynar armies would serve as the trump card, the main force.

And this time, Rhaenys was not left behind to rule the kingdom.

Because of the enemy they were about to face, Viserys, who wanted to challenge the Night King, naturally needed to go all out.

He needed another dragon rider to fight alongside him. Daenerys was too young, and the Princess of the new dynasty, who had combat experience, was naturally the first choice.

...

"White Walkers."

"Dragon."

"Dothraki."

In the Great Sept of Baelor.

Golden hair shimmered in the dim candlelight, a beautiful queen, regal and elegant, crossed her arms over her chest, lightly biting her white teeth, murmuring these words.

Then she turned to look at the knight in white standing behind her, her expression complex as she spoke.

"I once thought these things were only legends, but now, these things from legends have all appeared."

"I've seen the dragon bones in the cellars of the Red Keep. Robert didn't like them, so he moved them underground."

Recalling the first time she saw the dragon skulls, the beautiful blonde queen's face showed a hint of bewilderment.

"They... they're too big."

"I can't imagine how we're supposed
to defeat them."

"And besides, the Mad King's son has an army of sixty thousand, and the Dothraki."

The continent of Essos was not far away, but for a woman who had never left the Westerlands and King's Landing in her life, the Dothraki seemed as distant as a legend.

Legend had it that these savages ate human flesh, drank human blood, raped and pillaged, and committed all sorts of atrocities.

If she fell into the hands of the Dothraki, Cersei shivered slightly at the thought.

Yet these ferocious Dothraki had all submitted to that son of the Mad King...

"Can you defeat him, Ser Jaime Lannister?"

"Defeat the dragons? Defeat the Dothraki? And the elephants of the Golden Company?"

"What can we rely on?"

"My father's army or the shit-like gold cloaks of King's Landing?"

Cersei's sarcastic voice echoed in the Great Sept of Baelor. She might not be a military commander, but she understood the disparity in strength between the two sides.

Before the White Walkers appeared, the southern nobles scoffed at the idea, not believing it at all.

But when the White Walkers really came, and defeated the allied forces as easily as breaking dry twigs, swallowing the entire North, the southern nobles became like frightened birds, wishing they could flee to Essos for refuge.

Cersei was one of them. She had once thought that the White Walkers were non-existent, and her husband's departure from King's Landing conveniently allowed her and Jaime to carry on their affair. But when the White Walkers came, she was terrified.

"Yes, Cersei, we can't beat him."

"He has dragons, barbarians, armies..."

On the other side.

Also standing in the Great Sept of Baelor, the knight in white, hearing Cersei's sarcasm, had a belly full of fire, and finally couldn't help but speak.

"But are you sure that if we kill this old man, we can earn his forgiveness?"

"You should know that I killed his father!"

In the center of the Great Sept of Baelor, right beneath the seven-pointed star symbol overhead, the body of an old man with white hair lay quietly.

Chapter 382: Jon's Assassination

Early this morning.

A seismic event occurred in King's Landing.

For reasons unknown, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King and acting regent, who sat on the Iron Throne, suddenly left the Tower of the Hand. Accompanied by a few guards, he hurriedly made his way to the top of Visenya's Hill, to the peak of the Street of Steel.

Although the Street of Steel was not far from the Great Sept of Baelor and the Silent Sisters' Street, it was a place of chaos, teeming with a diverse crowd.

It was a slum, not unlike Flea Bottom, home to many of King's Landing's lower-class citizens who eked out a living in the gray area of the law. Thugs, thieves, beggars, mercenaries, and of course, blacksmiths.

The sudden arrival of the high-ranking Lord of the Vale, accompanied by his guards, naturally caused a stir.

The ordinary people living on the Street of Steel watched with cold eyes. Some with fierce faces showed ill intentions towards the old lord, which put the Arryn family guards on high alert.

Even the gold cloaks usually didn't dare to come here alone to cause trouble. They patrolled in groups of three or five, and every now and then, an unidentified body would be discarded in the streets.

The Street of Steel led directly to Fishmonger's Square and the Mud Gate, which were also the most common gathering places for smugglers in King's Landing.

However, the Lord of the Eyrie seemed oblivious to the threatening gazes around him. He arrived in front of a blacksmith's shop, dismounted shakily, and was about to walk in.

But at that moment, a dozen or so rioters who had been lying in ambush around the blacksmith's shop suddenly surged out.

They were dressed in rags, but they held various weapons in their hands, and they plunged their blades directly into the old lord's chest and abdomen.

Thud, thud, thud—

A group of rioters suddenly emerged, grabbed Jon Arryn's shoulders, and quickly stabbed him a dozen times.

The old lord had no defense at all. Until the blood gushed out, his body soaked in blood, his pale beard trembling, he fell dead on the spot, his body lying in a pool of blood.

The Arryn family guards who were with him were naturally shocked, and then they engaged in a fight with the 'rioters', but they were outnumbered.

These rioters were all skilled fighters, easily killing all the Arryn family guards before making their escape.

The sudden change left all the people on the Street of Steel shocked. Although they hated the nobles, they would never dare to kill.

The commoners living at the bottom of society, with their keen sense of impending disaster, began to scatter and flee.

The gold cloaks also received the news in the shortest possible time.

Janos Slynt, the current commander of the City Watch, was both shocked and angry when he heard of the assassination of the Hand of the King. He then quickly led his men to capture the assassins.

The atmosphere in King's Landing instantly became tense. The news of the Hand's assassination spread among the nobles, and countless gold cloaks blocked all the streets of King's Landing to capture the fleeing assassins.

That night, several fierce battles broke out in King's Landing. Some assassins were found and fought to the death, refusing to surrender, and were killed on the spot.

Others surrendered or were captured alive, then imprisoned in the dungeons awaiting trial. However, before the night was over and dawn had not yet broken, these assassins died one after another in the dungeons.

The common people of the Street of Steel also suffered. Countless hidden forces beneath the surface of King's Landing were wiped out in this sweep.

The powerful gang leaders, thugs, and habitual smugglers who usually had a good relationship with the gold cloaks were not spared this time. The gold cloaks turned their faces ruthlessly, and a large number of innocent people were also arrested and interrogated in an attempt to find clues to the murderer.

But all this could not cover up the news of the assassination of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King and the foster father of His Majesty.

Now, Jon Arryn's body was placed in the Great Sept of Baelor, waiting to be buried, and all the masters of the Small Council kept their mouths shut.

As the queen who stayed in the Red Keep, she received this news and rushed to the Great Sept of Baelor overnight to bid farewell to the Lord of the Vale.

In the Great Sept of Baelor, located at the peak of Visenya's Hill, it was silent. Only the beautiful blonde queen, her brother, and the body of Jon Arryn were present.

"Even without Viserys, I would have killed him!"

"Jaime."

Hearing Jaime's question, the beautiful blonde queen in a gorgeous red velvet dress turned around. Her pair of emerald eyes stared intently at her brother, then she spoke with a tone full of hatred.

"He killed our third child!"

"He hadn't been born yet, hadn't seen the world, but because this old man found out, he was forced to leave!"

Cersei clenched her teeth, her chin raised, her delicate face full of hatred.

She could never let go of this matter, so she decided to kill him.

And now was the best opportunity, a chance to kill three birds with one stone. She could take revenge and also gain the forgiveness of House Targaryen, helping Viserys take King's Landing.

"And he's always been suspicious of Joffrey and Myrcella's parentage."

"If he found out that the biological father of Joffrey and Myrcella is you, Jaime, do you think Robert would spare us and our children?"

"We would all die! We would all be choked to death by that drunken boar Robert who only knows how to rut in bed!"

Speaking of her husband, Cersei's tone was full of resentment.

The beautiful blonde queen had the typical Lannister golden curls and beautiful green eyes. Her figure was slim, her skin was fair, and even after giving birth to two children, she showed no signs of aging.

You should know that Cersei was only twenty-six years old, the peak age for a woman's beauty. She was mature, sexy, full of temptation and charm.

Seeing her brother Jaime silent, Cersei took a deep breath to calm her emotions.

Then she reached out with her fair hands to hold Jaime's handsome face.

"Don't worry, Jaime, everything is within my plan."

"I love you, I can't live without you."

The blonde queen gently kissed the white knight's lips, then looked at him closely, her voice firm.

"I will find a way to make Viserys forgive your actions, the worst outcome would be to don the black."

"What way?"

"Your way is to don the black?"

Hearing his sister's words, Jaime sniffed the enticing scent of Cersei, then couldn't help but hold the beautiful queen's plump and soft buttocks from behind, gently kneading it, taking a deep breath and questioning.

"Cersei, you know, I can't leave you, and I don't want to go to that bird-freezing place."

"Listen!"

Cersei, whose
buttocks were held by her brother's hand, remained calm. A slender finger blocked his mouth and she whispered.

"Don't ask too much, trust me."

"Jaime."

"I won't let you stay in that place for long, I will bring you back."

Chapter 383: The Defense Line of Karhold Bay

Within the Great Sept of Baelor, a man and a woman, consumed by their desires, engage in a passionate tryst under the watchful eyes of the Seven Gods, beside the corpse of the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn.

Meanwhile, far from King's Landing, at the front line of Karhold Bay, after two or three months, the shadowy figures of the White Walkers once again appear within the patrol range of the sentries.

The war between humans and the White Walkers is unlike any war between humans.

'The King Who Knelt,' Torrhen Stark, led the Northern army south to join the siege against the Targaryen invaders, but arrived a step too late, witnessing the southern king and his allied forces being crushed by dragons.

Knowing he couldn't match the dragons and the Targaryen army, Torrhen Stark immediately knelt at what is now known as the 'Tower of Kneeling,' securing peace and tranquility for the North. The 'Conqueror' effortlessly conquered the North without deploying a single soldier, a straightforward victory.

However, the war between humans and the White Walkers is different; it's a contest between the living and the dead.

Although the White Walkers crushed House Stark and the allied forces of the Seven Kingdoms, no Northern noble could surrender to the White Walkers.

Because surrendering meant death, and no one wanted to die, let alone have their bodies controlled as disgusting wights after death. Therefore, the army of the dead had to sweep through the castles and villages of the North one by one, which took a considerable amount of time.

...

Now, the stars of the Seven Kingdoms' allied forces are gathered. The famous commanders from all over the Seven Kingdoms have gathered here to discuss how to repel the White Walkers.

After all, this is no longer a matter of one house or one place.

Some people once thought it was a matter of the North, but in an instant, the North was destroyed, and millions of Northerners became refugees, fleeing to the South. If they don't unite all people, they will be defeated by the White Walkers one by one.

"Although Karhold Bay is easy to defend and hard to attack, the difficulty of attacking from the North to the South and from the South to the North is entirely different."

Under the bright light.

Tywin Lannister, slightly bald, wore deep red armor, with a brightly painted golden lion in gold on his chest. He wore a huge cloak made of gold thread on his back. His eyes were bright, and his finger pointed on the map.

"If we put all our bets on being able to hold Karhold Bay, then it will be the same as before, holding the Wall and Winterfell, and the final result will be a big loss."

"Humans simply cannot withstand the attack of the White Walkers, and may even increase their numbers."

Although it was the first time facing the White Walkers after the start of the war, the old lion did not mince words after learning about the specific intelligence.

His words made the faces of King Robert, Lord Eddard, and Stannis, who were present, a little ugly, because the initial battle plan was formulated by them, and they had been defeated by the White Walkers.

"Your Majesty, and my lords."

"Since the method of holding on doesn't work, why don't we set out from White Harbor and cut off the White Walkers' rear?"

The speaker was Edmure Tully, who wore deep green armor with the family crest of red and blue stripes and a silver trout.

Edmure also had the characteristic auburn hair of House Tully, looking handsome and dashing, dignified. His romantic affairs in the Riverlands were also numerous, much to the liking of young girls.

And the young heir to Riverrun had been educated by maesters from a young age, learning about war and leading soldiers, waiting for a good opportunity to show his skills.

This time Edmure was also sent out by his father to join the allied forces to defend the safety of the Riverlands. After all, after the fall of the North, the main battlefield facing the White Walkers next is the Riverlands.

Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun was getting old, and his health seemed not so good in recent years, often bedridden, so he couldn't come to the battlefield.

"All that is nonsense! You're just a kid who hasn't even grown a full beard yet! You think you know how to fight just because you've read a couple of books?"

"The White Walkers don't need to eat or sleep, what's the use of cutting off their rear?"

Edmure's first participation in the war, and he had no experience facing the White Walkers, these terrifying enemies were not ordinary humans.

And the king sitting in the first place, Robert Baratheon, was irritable for some reason, not giving any face to the young heir of the Riverlands.

Perhaps there were too many troubles recently that made him a little restless.

He didn't know that while he was fighting in front, his foster father Jon Arryn had been assassinated, and his wife had cuckolded him.

And Edmure, who was scolded by the king without mercy, looked a little embarrassed. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he didn't have the courage to stand up.

But at this time, Stannis Baratheon, who was sitting on the side, suddenly spoke.

"Sending a cavalry unit from White Harbor to cut off the White Walkers' rear is not impossible."

Under the bright candlelight, the man who looked like a stubborn stone had a solemn face and a very straight back. Edmure gratefully looked at Stannis, but did not receive a response from him.

Stannis was not trying to help Edmure out of the predicament, but he indeed had such a plan.

"The dead can't ride horses, the mobility of the cavalry is one of the few advantages we can maintain when facing the army of the dead."

White Harbor is one of the few areas in the North that has not been captured by the army of the dead. Located at the southern end of the North at the mouth of the White Knife, it is the main trade port of the North.

Because it is backed by the sea, the transportation of supplies and soldiers is convenient. It can attack or defend against enemies on land, so many allied soldiers are stationed in White Harbor, forming a defense line with Karhold Bay.

Stannis proposed to send a cavalry unit to harass the enemy's rear and attract the attention of the army of the dead.

Lead these distracted dead armies as far north as possible to relieve the pressure on the Karhold Bay defense line.

However... this is a mission of life and death.

As Stannis's words fell, the meeting room was silent, and no one spoke to express their opinions.

Then it was still Tywin Lannister, his pair of emerald eyes sweeping across the map.

Then he looked up at his son-in-law with a gloomy face, his fingers lightly tapping on the table. After a long while, he finally spoke in a low and powerful voice.

"We need dragons, Your Majesty."

"When I passed through Maidenpool with my troops, I
heard a saying, it seems to be spread by a red-robed witch from Essos. She said that the enemy we are facing is not actually prepared for us."

"Only dragons can defeat the Night King."

The words of the Warden of the West made Robert's face a little ugly.

But Tywin's eyes were bright and did not stop because of this, but continued to speak in a deep voice.

"Your Majesty, I remember we have already asked for help from the remnants of the Targaryens."

"What's the result?"

Chapter 384: The Attack on White Harbor

In Tywin's creed, there are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests.

He could bow his head for immediate gains, even bear humiliation, but the one who laughs last is the one who wins.

The pre-war meeting ended.

Duke Tywin, escorted by Lannister soldiers, returned to the camp of the Westerlands troops, where banners representing various families of the Westerlands fluttered in the air.

"Sir."

"Sir."

The patrolling soldiers along the way quickly saluted upon seeing Duke Tywin, but Tywin, with a frosty face, didn't even bother to respond.

"Joanna."

"Kevan."

"Gillian."

Although the Targaryen family was mentioned in the pre-war meeting, few knew that Tywin's hatred for the Targaryens ran even deeper. The two were incompatible, and only the complete destruction of one could end the feud.

However.

Sadly, the deep-thinking Tywin was still unaware of what his proud son and daughter had done in King's Landing.

After all, the news of Jon Arryn's death had not yet reached him.

...

And the next day.

With the morning fog, the guards on the walls of White Harbor yawned slightly. They bore the crest of House Arryn on their chests, and their green banners fluttered in the wind.

They were soldiers from the Vale, led by Lord 'Bronze Yohn' Royce, now stationed in White Harbor to defend against the attacks of the White Walkers, to hold this sea gate, and to relieve the pressure on the front line.

"Peck, do you think we can survive this winter?"

A Vale soldier spoke with a worried tone. After two devastating defeats, the morale of the allied forces had plummeted, filled with pessimism.

After the first desperate battle at the Wall, the allied forces were still invigorated, determined to counterattack at Winterfell.

However, the Battle of Winterfell once again dealt a heavy blow, completely shattering the confidence of the allied soldiers and officers.

Not only ordinary soldiers, but even many officers and nobles held very pessimistic emotions, as if the end of the world was tomorrow.

Morale is such a thing, it thrives at first, then declines, and finally exhausts. Consecutive failures do not inspire the soldiers' fighting spirit, but instead plunge them into the abyss. This is why there are so few cases of desperate counterattacks throughout history.

"I don't know."

"Hmph, maybe today, maybe tomorrow, we're going to die."

Another soldier named Peck, holding a long spear, his fingers red from the cold, exhaled a white breath and shook his head.

"Let's die then, there's no more suffering after death. This world is beyond saving. The Seven Gods above? I finally understand that the damn Seven Gods are of no use."

"We're in the seventh hell here!"

"Praying used to be useless, the septons told me it was because I wasn't devout enough, that paying a little money would make me devout. Now the world is about to be destroyed, and the Seven Gods haven't shown their faces."

In extreme pessimism, the worldview of the Vale soldier Peck collapsed, and he cursed the Seven Gods he once believed in.

"Hush, keep it down."

At this time, a carriage with a mermaid emblem drove by not far away. His companion nudged Peck, reminding him to keep his voice down.

"Old Lord Manderly is coming."

Although the faith in the Seven Gods had collapsed, and even though the soldiers cursed incessantly, the Seven Gods, like a turtle, pretended not to hear.

But those who devoutly believed in the Seven Gods could hear and could punish him.

Although dying sooner or later is still death, Peck didn't want his head chopped off by Old Lord Manderly.

The lord of White Harbor is House Manderly, a former Riverlands family, but because their power expanded too much, they were suspected by the River King, and a thousand years before the Conquest, they were expelled from the Riverlands and exiled to the North, where they were accepted by the then King in the North.

The Manderly family swore an oath in the name of the old and new gods under the heart tree in the Wolf's Den, pledging loyalty to House Stark. The King in the North granted them lands.

This grace became the source of the Manderly family's loyalty to House Stark. With their wealth, the Manderly family built a city called 'White Harbor'.

And the one who climbed out of the carriage with difficulty was the current Lord of White Harbor, Wyman Manderly. He was quite old, in his late fifties, almost sixty.

And his obese figure required assistance to travel, his hearty laughter earned him the nickname 'Lord Eel' or 'Lord Can't-Ride-a-Horse' among his subjects.

However, Old Lord Manderly had a good temper and laughed it off when he heard about it.

And Lord Wyman Manderly, panting heavily but with no fear on his face, was helped by his guards to inspect the walls of White Harbor.

He naturally didn't hear the blasphemous words of the Vale soldier just now, and even patted Peck on the shoulder to encourage him. The Vale soldier was so scared that he didn't know what to say.

The figure of Old Lord Manderly, assisted by his guards, gradually moved away, and just as the Vale soldiers breathed a sigh of relief.

Another companion with sharp eyes, looking at the distant road shrouded in snow and fog, suddenly spoke.

"Look!"

"What's that?"

A shadowy figure first appeared in the white snow, but at this moment, an ice arrow pierced through the snow at a high speed, hitting the eagle banner next to Peck.

Crash——

The banner of House Arryn fell with a crash, and Peck, who had just cursed the Seven Gods, was startled.

"Damn!"

For a moment, he even thought he was going to die.

However, in his panic, he took two steps back, but didn't notice that the snow on the city wall was too slippery.

Then he slipped and fell directly from the city wall, landing headfirst with a solid thud.

Thud——

Like a sack of broken cloth falling, his body lay face up on the ground, and blood quickly spread in the white snow.

But at this moment, no one cared about his accidental death, the Vale soldiers and White Harbor soldiers on the city wall were instantly in chaos.

"White Walkers are attacking!"

"White Walkers are attacking!"

The soldiers shouted warnings, and the warning horns were blown.

Whoo~

In an instant.

The chilling horn sound echoed through the sky, and the allied forces stationed in the city of White Harbor rushed out upon hearing the horn.

An endless army of the dead gradually appeared in people's sight, everyone swallowed, gripping their weapons tightly.

And the obese Lord Manderly, who needed assistance, was panting heavily, but also showed no fear. He leaned on the battlement, looking at the army of the dead in the distance, he had been waiting for this day for a long time.

However, as the army of the dead got closer and closer, he saw the two White Walkers at the front, and his pupils
suddenly contracted.

His fat hand gripping the battlement squeezed a handful of cold snowflakes, instantly soaking his heart.

"This, this is..."

Chapter 385: Unbelievable News

"Kill!"

The earth-shattering battle cry gradually faded, flames soared into the sky, and the thick smell of gunpowder lingered over this grand port city standing at the mouth of the White Knife River.

"Darkness will not last, light will come!"

"May future generations remember our names!"

Accompanied by the resounding roar of despair.

Thump——

Thump——

One by one, the allied soldiers, clad in tattered armor of various houses, teared up, shouting their names towards the sea, hoping that the sea would remember, then jumped into the icy water to meet their end.

As another major stronghold of the allied defense line, White Harbor was the first to face the fierce attack of the White Walkers.

The allied forces stationed in White Harbor and the soldiers of House Manderly did not surrender, but fought back against the onslaught of the army of the dead.

But in the end, despite their best efforts, they were unable to resist the surging army of the dead.

After holding out for several days without the arrival of reinforcements, White Harbor eventually fell.

Due to the lack of warships and limited carrying capacity, a large number of allied soldiers chose to fight a desperate battle, eventually being forced to jump into the sea.

They would rather drown in the icy water than become wights and continue to harm their own kind.

This tragic and heroic story is just a small part of humanity's tenacious resistance against the White Walkers, later widely sung by wandering poets.

However, the fall of White Harbor was not the end of the world, and humanity still held hope at the third line of defense.

A few days later.

On the eve of the fall of White Harbor, Lord Wyman Manderly, who had escaped by boat, finally led his remaining soldiers to the front line of Karhold, while his family had been sent to King's Landing.

He brought an unbelievable piece of news.

Lord 'Eel' Manderly claimed to have seen the former Warden of the North, Lord Rickard Stark, and his eldest son Brandon Stark, on the battlefield of White Harbor.

"They have become White Walkers, their eyes burning with icy blue flames. Lord Rickard seemed to be wearing the armor he wore when he was burned alive by the Mad King, only now it was covered in frost."

"Brandon was the first to climb the walls of White Harbor, no soldier could stop him, and he even killed my eldest son Wylis with a single stroke."

The soldiers on the battlefield of White Harbor resisted fiercely, blocking the army of the dead for three days, then the White Walkers in the rear took action, and the resistance of the allied soldiers came to nothing.

The intense street fighting lasted for several days, and in the end, without the arrival of reinforcements from the main camp at Karhold, the allied forces stationed in White Harbor were wiped out, except for those who escaped by ship.

The news brought by 'Lord Eel' was shocking, but not many believed it, especially Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, whose hair had turned somewhat gray in his middle age, seemed to have aged a lot overnight.

He didn't want to believe that his father and brother had become White Walkers.

But Lord Manderly was an old servant of his father's time, and he was very old, friendly, and well-liked. No one believed that Lord Manderly would maliciously mock the Stark family.

Eddard just thought the old man was confused, or perhaps he was scared by the situation at the time and saw some illusions. After all, according to the guards, the old man was almost killed by the White Walkers, and witnessed the death of his eldest son Wylis, which was a great shock. He was forcibly taken down by the guards.

But whether those two White Walkers were Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark, the guards who witnessed it couldn't say for sure, because they had never seen these two lords, so the matter was dropped.

However, not long after the news of the fall of White Harbor came back.

At the front line of Karhold.

The army of the dead finally arrived late. They swept away all the obstacles in the North, leaving only the final passage through the Neck to bring death and cold to all of Westeros and the world.

Karhold was built by the First Men ten thousand years ago. At that time, Karhold was a majestic fortress, with twenty towers and walls of basalt as high as Winterfell.

It was once the key to defending the North, repelling countless invasions by the Andals.

But now, the tall walls have disappeared for the most part, and the wooden towers have rotted away a thousand years ago, leaving only three of the twenty towers.

However, after the allied forces retreated to Karhold, they gathered all their strength, just like when they repaired the Wall, and painstakingly renovated this abandoned ancient castle.

Twenty towers stood on the newly built tall walls, blocking the front of the Neck, and in the distance on the Kingsroad, the figures of the army of the dead gradually emerged.

The crowd of heads was so dense that it was impossible to see the end. The soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms on the wall swallowed hard. Although many of them were survivors of one or two wars, they still felt their scalps tingle.

And among the allied forces, there were even more new soldiers who had never seen White Walkers. They were all new reinforcements sent to support Karhold from the South, and many of them were just newly conscripted strong men.

During the great exodus of the North, millions of people crossed the Neck to the South, and these people came to the South with no homes, no livelihoods, and could only rely on the relief of the local nobles, otherwise they would freeze or starve to death. The strong ones even started to loot villages and towns to bring back some food for their families.

And the nobles of the Riverlands were troubled by this, because these refugees were mainly concentrated on their land, they could only spend money and food to support them, otherwise it would cause bigger problems.

During the great exodus, the ruling class of the feudal dynasty only thought of encouraging the people to flee to the South. Their original intention may have been good, not wanting the people to die at the hands of the White Walkers, and even less wanting to supply the White Walkers with blood.

Otherwise, after the complete fall of the North, millions of dead would flood the South, and even if the Seven Gods descended, they would not be able to stop it.

However, they only encouraged the people to flee, but did not think about how to settle these people. The weakness of grassroots governance was exposed, causing the current chaos.

But fortunately, it is now a time of need for manpower, and King Robert has a crude way of governing.

He first borrowed money and food from the Iron Bank, and now Westeros is completely under the control of the Faceless Men of Braavos, who may not be able to escape.

Then he spent a lot of money to recruit a large number of Northerners into the army. These people didn't need to be paid, they just needed to be fed.

The number of allied forces expanded rapidly to over a hundred thousand. However, the subsequent problem was the lack of armor and weapons, but there was no
way, they just had to grit their teeth and go on.

The number of allied forces reached an unprecedented number, united in their fight against the White Walkers.

Chapter 386: Secret Weapon

Despite the impressive number of over a hundred thousand soldiers in the allied forces, they still seemed insignificant against the army of the dead.

The commanders of the allied forces were no longer sure how many wights there were, but it was certain that the number was no longer just two or three hundred thousand. Five or six hundred thousand? Or even a million?

The most terrifying thing about the army of the dead was their ability to convert the fallen. Countless dead rose again to join their ranks. The allied forces dwindled while the enemy's numbers grew. How could they fight such a war?

The renowned commanders from all over the Seven Kingdoms were gathered here, but none of them knew how to fight such monsters. They could only take one step at a time.

Soon, the White Walkers began their siege. The endless army of wights let out terrifying screams as they charged towards the walls of Karhold.

The soldiers on the walls of Karhold also began to raise their bows. Every few steps along the broad wall road, there was a blazing bonfire. The soldiers first dipped their oil-soaked arrowheads in the fire, igniting their arrows, then strung them on their bows. Following the commander's orders, they all raised their bows.

"Raise your bows!"

"Fire!"

Boom, boom, boom——

Flaming arrows flew into the sky, forming a rain of fire that fell down.

The wights could completely ignore the arrows, but they were extremely afraid of the burning flames on the arrows. This was an experience that humans had gradually summarized in the face of the White Walkers. Humans are a species good at learning and changing.

The number of wights rushing forward was too many. The archers on the walls of Karhold didn't need to aim. They just needed to light the arrows and then close their eyes and let them go.

Thump, thump, thump——

Burning arrows fell into the endless crowd of wights.

"Roar——"

The wights hit by the arrows let out strange screams and fell in the snow. But before they could get up again, they were trampled into pieces by the wights rushing up from behind.

Wights have no feelings, only a madness for flesh. The trampled wights also felt no pain, their heads were just crushed under the screams.

The Duke of Tywin's face was grim. His palm tightly gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist. Standing atop the tower of the city wall, his green eyes constantly scanned the entire battlefield.

This was his first time seeing a White Walker. He had once been curious about how terrifying the monsters that had defeated the allied forces in succession and even caused the entire North to fall could be?

But now, seeing them for the first time left a deep impression on him.

"If these monsters are not completely defeated, Westeros is finished."

Such a thought suddenly crossed Tywin's mind. By then, all plots and power games would be useless.

The Seven Kingdoms, the noble and ancient families of the Direwolf, Trout, Lion, Deer, Rose, etc., would all become walking dead. Westeros would be filled with such monsters running rampant.

Just thinking about it made Tywin feel a bit cold, and he had the idea of retreating.

But the old lion was after all deep in his city, his emotions did not show on his face, he still looked as steady as a mountain. This made Tyrion, who had been observing his father's face in secret for a long time, admire him.

"Father. Worthy of being my father."

The little imp also followed his father to Karhold this time. Although he was already nineteen years old, his height was still like a child's.

As a born dwarf, his existence has always been a shame to the Lannister family. Even his father had him supervise the construction of the drainage system of Casterly Rock to humiliate him.

But he didn't expect that this time he would go to Karhold to face the White Walkers, and all the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms would gather here. His father was even willing to take him along, which moved Tyrion greatly.

In the past, his father would always see him as a shame, and he would never let him attend such a noble gathering.

Did his father finally stop looking down on him?

Tyrion didn't think too much about it.

Then he turned his head back to continue watching the battlefield with full concentration. The battle seemed to be not going well. The fire attack of the allied forces had a certain effect.

But the problem was still there, there were too many wights and they were not afraid of death. Without a large-scale lethal weapon, it was impossible to stop their advance.

Now the fast-running wights had already rushed to the walls of Karhold. The soldiers threw down oil from above, then ignited it to form a wall of fire to block the wights' steps.

"But this is not a long-term solution. To defeat the White Walkers, other methods are needed."

Tyrion, dressed in a tailor-made suit, with the Lannister family crest pinned on his chest, was thinking rapidly.

Although he was short and ugly, and was maliciously called the 'little imp', Tyrion's brain was very smart. Because he was rejected and despised by his peers, Tyrion liked to read books alone in a corner since he was a child. His only friend was his elder brother Jaime.

At this moment, there was a sudden commotion below.

A wight somehow stepped on the bodies of its companions, crossed the sea of fire, and suddenly climbed onto the city wall, directly knocking down a soldier of the Lannister family.

The Lannister soldiers next to him were shocked, then drew their swords and 'hacked' this wight into pieces. But the soldier who was knocked down still lost his life, half of his throat was bitten off and blood was splattered all over the ground.

Several soldiers followed the commander's orders and threw the body of their comrade off the city wall, into the fire to be cremated.

Tyrion felt a bit uncomfortable seeing this bloody scene. This was his first time experiencing war firsthand.

Then he turned his head and looked at his father again. Duke Tywin still looked calm, as steady as a mountain, only the fingers gripping the hilt of his sword were slightly white.

Seeing his father's calm demeanor, Tyrion felt much more at ease.

The White Walkers were indeed terrifying.

But as a noble member of the Lannister family, Tyrion believed that his safety was very secure, especially with his father by his side.

"Father wouldn't hurt me."

Just like the tragic story of the soldiers of White Harbor jumping into the sea to commit suicide, no one mentioned that the Earl of White Harbor had escaped by boat first.

Moreover, as the nominal heir to the Westerlands, Tyrion knew that this time, to fight the White Walkers, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms seemed to have prepared a powerful 'secret weapon'.

It had been secretly transported to Karhold a long time ago. The carriages carrying these 'secret weapons' only traveled at night, and the covers were tightly sealed and light-proof. Even the inside was filled with sand. After the goods arrived at the storage cellar, they were sealed with beeswax and stored in water-filled cellars.

"With such a 'secret weapon', the allied forces may be able to defeat the White Walkers in one fell swoop at the Neck." Tyrion thought to himself.

Chapter 387: Tyrion's Despair

Karhold's walls were tall and formidable, easy to defend but hard to attack.

Indeed, the army of the dead faced setbacks in their assault on Karhold. The commanders and soldiers of the allied forces, now with ample experience against the wights, seemed to handle the situation more adeptly.

Whoosh——

Barrels of oil, transported continuously from the Seven Kingdoms and even the continent of Essos, were poured down as if they were free. The roaring flames burned incessantly, and wights charged forward only to be buried in the sea of fire.

Huff~

The fire lit up the entire sky, thick smoke billowing into the heavens. Even from the distant sea of the Bite, one could see the glow. The smell of burnt dust and foul odor wafted in the wind.

The allied forces of the Seven Kingdoms fought valiantly at Karhold, resisting with a united front, briefly halting the advance of the White Walkers.

But the good times didn't last.

Two days and one night of intense warfare passed. The war between the living and the dead was a heated battle every minute, with no room for respite.

"We can't retreat! We can't retreat!"

"Hold the line!"

Edmure Tully, the Riverlands' famous general, covered in blood, roared hoarsely.

He had been pulled back three times already, and in the span of two days and one night, he had only rested for two hours.

The Earl of Hornwood, clutching his sword, leaned against the base of Karhold's city wall, squinting his eyes. Now, his eyes were filled with a dense web of blood vessels, but he still stood at the front line with his soldiers.

"Quick, the third squad, retreat and rest, the fourth squad, take their place!"

Then, Edmure Tully, panting heavily, looked at the situation before him, his heart still maintaining calm, and then roared loudly.

The third squad, on the verge of collapse under the continuous onslaught of the wights, got a chance to breathe. The fourth squad, which had suffered heavy casualties when they were rotated out not long ago, still bravely took their place.

The allied forces' shaky front line was stabilized.

"Kill!"

The battlefield was still intense. After two days and one night, all the allied soldiers, despite having several squads rotating continuously and having some time to eat and drink, were already unable to hold on. After all, this was a highly tense battlefield, where one could lose their life in a moment of carelessness.

All the allied soldiers had bloodshot eyes, their eyes filled with dense blood vessels. After being rotated out from the front line, they didn't even have time to find a place to rest, they just found a spot and fell asleep.

But even in deep sleep, their weapons were still tightly gripped, with no relaxation at all.

The medics were even busier. They were also working non-stop. A large number of injured soldiers who didn't receive medical treatment were carried off the battlefield and then died.

Their bodies needed to be cremated to prevent them from suddenly rising and becoming new White Walkers.

After two days and one night of intense battle, not only the ordinary soldiers, but also the entire allied forces, including King Robert, the nobles, were all severely tormented.

The soldiers of the allied forces were living people. They needed sleep, rest, and food. On a mental level, they also needed hope, encouragement, and comfort. Now they were all supported by a single breath of spirit.

But the army of the dead didn't need any of that. They were like emotionless beasts, not needing rest, not knowing fatigue, not needing food, and continuously, madly attacking the third line of defense of the Seven Kingdoms' allied forces at Karhold.

This kind of war was a war of attrition. If they couldn't outlast the other side, the allied forces would ultimately fall.

The allied forces had already performed very well in this war. In the previous two battles, they didn't even hold on for a day and a night before their lines collapsed.

The Battle of Karhold was different from the Battle of White Harbor. This was a collision between the main forces of both sides. In the Battle of White Harbor, the allied forces held on for a long time because the army of the dead didn't deploy many troops, and they didn't directly crush the resistance of the allied forces.

However, as Duke Tywin said in the pre-war meeting, it was impossible to defeat the White Walkers by holding the line. They had to fully utilize the advantage of human intelligence and win by surprise.

The greatest advantage humans had against the White Walkers was not cavalry, but their brains.

The dead didn't have brains, and although the White Walkers were monsters with brains, their numbers were few. On the human side, there were many wise minds.

Then, the allied forces held on for another night, until the third day after the start of the battle, when the sky was just getting light, and the horizon was turning white.

The commander of the allied forces, King Robert, finally issued the order to retreat. This time it wasn't because the allied forces' line had collapsed, but because the king had actively issued the order to retreat.

The defeat was like a mountain collapsing, as if the last breath of pressure on the hearts of the allied soldiers had been released.

The method the allied forces used was still to set fire to cover their retreat. All the oil stored in Karhold was ignited all at once, the roaring flames shot into the sky, the ancient castle that had existed for ten thousand years swayed in the fire, until finally, it let out a mournful sound, and Karhold collapsed.

And the soldiers of the allied forces gathered on the causeway of the Neck, retreating towards the rear. Some were even pushed off the causeway, sinking into the rotten mud pit that emitted a foul smell, but no one was willing to lend a hand.

The third line of defense of the Seven Kingdoms' allied forces was the entire Neck. Karhold was easy to defend and hard to attack due to geographical reasons, but it couldn't accommodate too many soldiers. There were still a large number of allied soldiers south of the Neck.

Therefore, giving up Karhold didn't mean giving up the entire Neck and a complete defeat. The allied forces allied with the Crannogmen living in the Neck, the Reed family of Greywater Watch had a close private relationship with the Stark family, and the head of the Reed family, Howland Reed, was the leader of the Crannogmen.

He was willing to help train the allied soldiers to survive in the Neck, lead them to familiarize themselves with the complex narrow paths and waterways in the reeds, and use the natural barrier of the Neck to unite and fight against the existence of the White Walkers.

The allied forces retreated in a panic after the defeat. The kings and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms left Karhold first.

Large and small carriages, nobles dressed in armor, ran at the front.

However, Tyrion, the heir to the Westerlands, did not enjoy such treatment. He followed his father to the battlefield with great joy, even met the king and many dukes.

But he never expected that his father would abandon him on the battlefield at this time.

"No."

"I wasn't abandoned on the battlefield, my father wants me dead."

Tyrion's hands and feet were bound by chains, lying deep in the dungeon of Karhold, his small body struggling constantly, feeling the temperature above his head getting hotter and hotter, and the howling of the wights was clearly audible.

On his ugly face, his eyes showed deep despair.

Chapter 388: The Great Explosion

All the stockpiled wildfire in Karhold was ignited, creating a towering inferno that halted the advance of the army of the dead.

The soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms' allied forces were in a chaotic retreat, while behind the army of the dead...

Hundreds of skeletal horses stood quietly, with mammoths, direwolves, and other mounts carrying White Walkers, each wearing an indifferent expression and clad in icy armor.

In stark contrast to the distant battlefield's clamor, it was eerily quiet here. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. There wasn't even the sound of breathing, only the howling of the wind and snow.

The Neck, located at the southernmost point of the North, rarely experienced blizzards of this scale. However, with the Night King's arrival, cold and death came swiftly.

The number of White Walkers had multiplied several times since the Night King first emerged from the mountains. Most of them were the ancestors of the Stark family, countless generations of Kings in the North and Wardens of the North. Some were successfully transformed, while others failed.

Their bodies were reduced to skeletal frames, or even a handful of yellow soil. Yet, under the Night King's magic, they were revived, pulling out the long swords from the stone statues in front of their graves, emitting roars like the cracking of ice.

The Night King seemed to have a particular fondness for the Stark family, or perhaps there was something special about the ancient Stark bloodline. From the first time he saw Ned, the Night King wanted to kill him personally, and all the newly born White Walkers were from the Stark family.

The bloodline of the Stark family was like a beacon in the night, constantly guiding the Night King's direction.

In this silent realm, only the howling of the wind and snow could be heard.

Then, the Night King drew the icy sword from his waist, emitting a sound like the cracking of ice, and led his skeletal horse slowly towards Karhold, which was ablaze with roaring fire.

"Roar——"

The wights feared fire, and the great fire of Karhold blocked the advance of countless wights. However, when the Night King led the many White Walkers into the army of the dead, all the wights closed their mouths and stopped their ear-piercing roars, even actively making way.

Step, step

The clear sound of the skeletal horse's hooves, the crackling of the burning fire.

The army of the dead, which was just noisy and chaotic, fell silent as if under a strict order. All the wights were watching the figure of the Night King until he came to the front of the roaring fire and gently pulled the reins.

The Night King, wearing an icy crown, had icy blue flames flickering in his eyes. He stared at the fire in front of him without saying a word, then raised his hand and pressed it down gently.

Crack, crack, crack——

A layer of white ice quickly condensed from the ground beneath the Night King, spreading rapidly towards the nearby fire.

Whoosh~

The raging fire that was just surging met this thin layer of ice and extinguished instantly after a few tremors. Then the ice continued to spread, and before long, a path of ice was carved out in the sea of fire, leading directly to the causeway behind Karhold.

However, the Night King looked at the scene in front of him, his eyes still indifferent. The flames in his eye sockets were steady, and then he urged his skeletal horse to step onto this icy road carved out in the sea of fire.

The hundreds of White Walkers following the Night King, including the ancestors of the Stark family, were all silent, their faces cold, urging their skeletal warhorses to follow the Night King onto this icy road.

The Night King walked in front, the White Walkers followed behind him, and countless wights silently followed the steps of the White Walkers, stepping onto the icy road, a dark mass converging and passing through the fire of Karhold.

As he walked past the fire of Karhold, the Night King looked down at the ground beneath his feet. He sensed that there seemed to be a living person surviving in the cellar beneath the ground.

However, a mere living person was not worth his personal effort. Then the Night King raised his head again, continuing to move forward at a leisurely pace.

His steps were slow, but with each step forward, the snow moved forward with him, and the warm wind from the south retreated a step.

It wasn't that the Night King deliberately let the soldiers of the alliance escape, or didn't understand the concept of pursuing victory. Instead, in a realm that mortals could neither see nor touch, this was a contest between light and dark, warmth and cold.

No one knew the terrifying pressure the Night King had to bear with each step forward.

Therefore, his steps were extremely slow, looking unhurried. The army of the dead had to wait until the cold completely enveloped the North, driving away all warmth before they could continue to move forward.

However, this gave the soldiers of the alliance a chance to escape.

The Night King's steps continued forward, and the army of the dead silently followed behind him, continuously passing through the fire of Karhold.

And in the distance...

The leaders of the Seven Kingdoms, King Robert Baratheon, and many dukes were running at the front. However, they all looked tense at the moment, whispering to each other, and frequently looking back as if they were afraid that the White Walkers would suddenly catch up.

But in fact, they were anticipating something. This was a plan that the alliance had been plotting for a long time. They had been waiting until Karhold fell, not wanting to alert the White Walkers, hoping to catch them off guard.

The leaders of the Seven Kingdoms had already seen that the Night King was the key to defeating the army of the dead. Only by killing him could they truly defeat the White Walkers. Therefore, all their preparations were for killing the Night King.

Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West, was also in the retreat sequence. Unlike the king and the dukes, Tywin rode on horseback without looking back even once.

He just held the reins and said nothing, silently moving forward.

No one asked Tywin about Tyrion's whereabouts. Perhaps in any situation, a pitiful dwarf does not receive anyone's concern.

Did Tyrion fail to retreat in time and die on the battlefield?

Who cares? Perhaps he was too small to get on the carriage.

In the distance...

The Night King's hooves finally stepped onto the spacious causeway. The thick mud on both sides of the causeway was covered with a thin layer of ice. The Kings in the North, riding their skeletal horses, silently stepped onto the muddy Neck, but they did not sink, instead, they moved as if on flat ground. The steps of the wights also followed up continuously.

And below the causeway...

A few soldiers of the alliance, who had resigned themselves to death, looked at the densely packed green jars around them, exchanged glances, then lit a torch and smashed a green jar.

In an instant, an earthquake erupted.

Boom——

The green flames that shot into the sky illuminated the entire sky, and the huge rumbling sound made the earth tremble.

Chapter 389: Plan Failed

The soldiers of the allied forces, who had fled far ahead, were panic-stricken, unaware of the disaster that had occurred.

Thud, thud...

The high-ranking nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, however, reined in their horses, looking anxiously back and whispering to each other.

King Robert, his rotund body perched atop his steed, his armor nearly bursting at the seams from his belly, held his warhammer in one hand. The guards of the Red Keep flanked him, including Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Marlon Trant of the Kingsguard.

"Whoosh——"

Then King Robert reined in his horse and looked back. His chubby face was weathered and weary, his black beard fluttering in the wind. The constant defeats over the past half a year had put a great deal of psychological pressure on him. His voice was low and tinged with anticipation.

"Did we blow him up?"

The sudden explosion had reached even further afield. The green fire and the shockwave from the explosion tore through the clouds, forming a green mushroom cloud that illuminated everyone's faces.

These faces were filled with fear, joy, indifference, and anticipation. A myriad of expressions appeared among the allied forces.

Tywin Lannister's face, however, showed no joy. The Duke of Casterly Rock was impassive, his hand tightly gripping the reins.

But under the watchful eye of Stafford Lannister, it seemed that he could vaguely sense the complex emotions of his cousin. There was a sense of relief, guilt, and the two intertwined, making it difficult to discern which emotion was dominant.

Not long ago, it was Ser Stafford and several knights of House Lannister who had personally executed Tywin's orders. They had chained Tyrion to the wall of the cellar, hoping that this disgrace to the Lannister family would die at the hands of the White Walkers, while also earning some 'heroic' reputation. They wanted to make the most of the situation.

Tywin watched the mushroom cloud rise from the explosion in silence for a long time, then finally withdrew his gaze. His face still showed no emotion. Then, with a squeeze of his legs against his horse's belly, he said calmly.

"Let's go."

Upon hearing his cousin's words, Stafford quickly spurred his horse and, along with the Lannister soldiers, continued to retreat along the causeway.

Whether the Night King had been blown up or not, the allied forces were not aware.

However, under such circumstances, no one wanted to go back. The allied forces had invested a large amount of wildfire in this war.

This was a highly flammable liquid that could burn for a long time, made by the Alchemist's Guild. Each jar had an astonishing explosive power.

Anything that was ignited by wildfire would be burned to ashes. It could penetrate clothing, wood, leather, and even steel, setting them all on fire.

Even this strange green liquid could burn on the surface of the water.

The father of Viserys, the 'Mad King' Aerys II, used to love burning people with wildfire.

Because of the unique properties of wildfire, it would not go out for a long time after the explosion, especially since the allied forces had put in all their efforts. The terrifying scale of the explosion made it impossible for ordinary people to approach the core of the explosion.

Perhaps they would be melted before they could get close, and the life or death of the Night King was even more unknown.

Therefore, when this plan was formulated, it was decided that no matter what the result was, there was no need to look back.

The allied forces retreated all the way to the main camp at the Twins.

The allied forces detonated a large amount of wildfire stored under the causeway and then fled.

In the center of the wildfire explosion, the rising green fire turned into a mushroom cloud, then gradually dissipated.

With the center of the explosion under the Night King's feet as the center, a radius of several kilometers had been leveled. The King's Road, the only passage connecting the North and the South, was blown to pieces and completely destroyed.

The traditional flora and fauna growing in the Neck, lizard-lions, poisonous snakes, forests soaked in mud all year round, and curtain-like fungi hanging between branches, etc., were all turned into ashes.

Everywhere you looked, there was a green fire burning, making a crackling sound, as if it had turned into a terrifying hell on earth.

Countless wights following the Night King were turned into ashes in the explosion, and even more were ignited by the splashing wildfire, falling to the ground in a frenzy of howling and turning into ashes. These wights were permanently dead, never to rise again, becoming part of the nutrients of the earth.

However, at this time, in the center of the wildfire explosion.

Crack, crack, crack——

A strange sound of ice cracking spread from the center of the explosion, quickly expanding, and the white snow still echoed with the green fire.

...

The allied forces' battle plan had failed.

The large amount of wildfire buried underground and detonated did not directly blow the Night King to the sky. Although the bodies of the White Walkers were torn apart by the shock wave of the explosion, ordinary fire could not burn their souls, so they quickly recovered under the power of the snow.

A large number of wights were blown into ashes, but for the army of the dead, wights are the least scarce thing. Therefore, the pace of the White Walker army was only slightly hindered, and then they continued on their journey south.

The cold covered the entire Neck, and the army of the dead walked on the Neck, known as a natural barrier, as if it were flat ground.

The Night King did not regard humans as enemies, his greatest enemy was the warm wind blowing from the south.

The bloodline of the Kings in the North seemed to contain some ancient and mysterious unknown power. They belonged to 'cold' and 'snow'.

The Night King revived the Kings in the North of the Stark family and with their help, the Night King seemed to have a better grasp of the power of the cold.

In the confrontation between 'red' and 'blue' that mortals could not touch, the blue light gradually squeezed the red light.

And reflected in the reality that mortals can see is the winter wind blowing south, accompanying the steps of the Night King.

"Humans are utterly defeated."

Lord Walder Frey leaned on his cane, his hair worn away by the years, his teeth fallen out, his skin sagging, but his nearly ninety years of age brought him experience that ordinary people could not reach.

His voice was harsh but still loud, he seemed energetic, and even often boasted that he was as strong as a bull, still able to perform marital duties and procreate.

"How many years has it been since the Green Fork froze? Hmm?"

"The last time it didn't freeze was before that 'False Spring'."

Old Walder Frey laughed heartily, seemingly unconcerned about the current predicament.

During the 'False Spring', Rhaegar eloped with Lyanna, which led to a war and ultimately cost the Targaryen family their throne.

Chapter 390: Dragon's Roar Shakes the Heavens

"I remember the last time the Green Fork froze, I was a young lad, that must have been over sixty years ago..."

"After a long summer of seven years, followed by a brief autumn, then a harsh winter of six years, the Green Fork froze over."

"The number of people who froze to death then..."

Lord Walder Frey waved his hand, seemingly lost in the memories of the past.

But soon, Lord Frey's hand stiffened and slowly returned to his cane.

He looked at the Green Fork, which was gradually freezing over in the snowstorm, his yellowed old eyes somewhat dazed.

He had watched this river for nearly ninety years, and under his rule, the Frey family had flourished, their power had grown, and they were not to be underestimated. The family was thriving, yet all this prosperity could not withstand a natural disaster.

The roaring Green Fork had finally stopped flowing.

There was no one beside old Walder Frey. It turned out he had been talking to himself all this time.

The disaster was imminent. After the White Walkers crossed the Neck, the first place they would strike was the Twins. The Twins were to the Riverlands what Moat Cailin was to the North.

Against enemies from the south, if Moat Cailin held, the North would be safe.

And against threats from the North, the lords of the Riverlands only needed to hold the Twins, and the problem could be largely solved.

The Frey family was thriving, but those who were not dead were injured. At this point, all had been sent out. Only old Frey remained in the Twins, while his beloved descendants had been sent by boat to the continent of Essos.

Old Frey, with his wealth of experience, had sensed the danger early and made plans, hoping to leave a spark of hope for the Frey family.

Even though he wanted to leave himself, his body, which he boasted was still strong in his old age, wouldn't support him on a sea voyage. He feared he would die at sea, so he dismissed the idea.

More than a month had passed since the Battle of Moat Cailin.

The allied forces' plan to kill the Night King with wildfire had failed. Although it had killed a large number of ordinary wights, it had not harmed the Night King at all.

The tactics prepared by the allied forces, in conjunction with House Reed of Greywater Watch, to deal with the army of the White Walkers in the Neck had also failed.

The allied forces' soldiers, who had been following the crannogmen, desperately tried to stop the advance of the army of the dead. Although they initially achieved some success.

But the enemy adopted a method of overwhelming force. Even if they were stuck in the mud, the wights behind would step on the bodies of the wights in front and kill these guerrilla crannogmen and allied soldiers.

And all this was wiped out after the Night King took action. The rotten mud froze into hard ground, and the small boats in the complex river channels of the reed swamp were frozen and immobile.

The army of the dead moved unimpeded in the Neck, countless crannogmen and allied soldiers were slaughtered, without even the strength to resist. The entire mysterious and hard-to-find castle of Greywater Watch was captured.

The mysterious leader of the crannogmen, Howland Reed, reportedly hanged himself in his own castle hall.

His daughter, Meera Reed, and son, Jojen Reed, escaped the Neck with the soldiers of the allied forces.

The Battle of the Neck was a series of defeats. The allied forces were scattered, and thousands of battles took place in half a month, but there were few victories.

The morale of the allied soldiers reached an astonishingly low level during this process, the army was disheartened, and everyone was in fear.

This time it was not just ordinary soldiers, but the entire army, including the king and all the nobles, were shrouded in a mood of despair.

The Neck was the most hopeful line of defense for humans to stop the White Walkers. The allied forces had exhausted all their energy, manpower, financial resources, and material resources to stop the White Walkers at the Neck.

"They originally thought the Neck would be the second 'Wall of Despair' in Westeros, an impregnable natural defense line, giving infinite hope."

"But they didn't expect that when they really encountered the White Walkers, this unbreakable defense line was as fragile as a piece of paper."

Tycho Nestoris, the manager from the Iron Bank of Braavos, wrote this in his memoir.

He was the full representative sent by Braavos, responsible for handling the loan affairs between the Iron Throne and the Iron Bank. He was also in the camp of the allied forces, a key landlord, so he could personally experience and hear many secrets that were not disclosed to the outside world.

And his observations would naturally be sent back to the city of Braavos, becoming the basis for the decision of the Sea Lord.

According to Tycho Nestoris's judgment, Westeros has reached a critical moment of life and death.

The White Walkers breaking through the Neck means that the morale of the allied forces is on the verge of collapse. If King's Landing falls, Westeros is not far from complete collapse.

In the 293rd year of Aegon's Conquest, but for the Baratheon dynasty, it is known as the 'Conquest Era' 293.

The desperate allied forces, on New Year's Day, fought a do-or-die battle against the Green Fork and the Twins.

Even abandoning their previous defensive tactics, they launched a desperate charge against the army of the dead.

Countless knights from various families, clad in bright armor, wielding sturdy shields and long spears, charged at the front line.

"Kill!"

On the banks of the Green Fork, the shouts of killing shook the heavens.

And as the king of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon did not listen to anyone's advice this time, but personally charged forward with his warhammer.

The king charged forward, and the rest of the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms naturally could not shrink back.

Eddard Stark also stood by his good brother, the king's younger brother Stannis did not abandon his elder brother and flee back to Dragonstone, the knights of the Riverlands, the Vale, the Westerlands, the Riverlands, and so on.

The allied soldiers, for their homeland behind them, fought a desperate battle in the face of desperation, bursting out with several times their potential and courage. If they failed in this battle, the hope of the Seven Kingdoms would be cut off.

However, courage ultimately cannot overcome absolute power.

From the sky above the clouds, looking down through the white snow, the number of wights and soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms' allied forces was not proportional at all.

And the number of wights was still increasing, the figures of the allied soldiers were falling one by one, the extremely exaggerated power contrast was still being eaten away and reduced at a geometric rate.

Blood dyed the frozen river red, the shattered ice surged with cold river water, and bodies lay across the riverbank.

Lord Walder Frey stood on the bridge of the Twins, looking at the distant battlefield, his eyes finally showed despair.

Then he let go of his hands and fell freely from the bridge, plunging into the Green Fork, wanting to end his life.

Thud—

However, Lord Walder Frey's body did not shatter the hard ice. His head hit the ice heavily, creating a shallow white pit.

The blood flowing from the back of his head quickly stained the ice, but his body was not yet dead. He struggled slightly, his yellowed old eyes unfocused, looking at the sky.

But just then.

A loud roar of a dragon suddenly came from the distant horizon, quickly spreading in all directions.

The Night King, who was riding his horse behind the army of the dead, suddenly looked up at the sky, the icy blue flames in his eyes jumping rapidly.

Chapter 391: Divine Weapon Descends

"Roar—"

The roar of a dragon echoed far across the sky, causing the king, nobles, and soldiers of the allied forces who were battling the wights on the ground to look up at the heavens.

They had never heard the roar of a dragon before. This sound had disappeared from the land of Westeros for a hundred years, and now it had reappeared.

"Robert."

"What is that sound?"

Eddard Stark, wielding his Valyrian steel sword Ice, shattered a wight in front of him. He was slightly out of breath, his body covered in blood, unsure if it was from the wights or the allied soldiers.

Standing next to the Duke of Winterfell, King Robert was also panting heavily, his breath forming a white mist.

Thud—

He then swung his warhammer, smashing the skull of a wight, and with a backhand swing, he hit another wight in the chest, sending it flying. His beard was stained with blood, and there were splatters of fresh blood on his cheeks.

He too heard the loud roar from above, exhaled a breath of white mist, then stopped fighting and looked up at the sky.

Unfortunately, the snowstorm on the banks of the Green Fork was raging, and the heavy snow was falling continuously.

The entire battlefield was blanketed in white, and visibility was not high. They couldn't see what was happening in the sky above.

"I don't know what that sound is."

Robert, panting heavily, his chubby face somewhat flushed, shook his head.

"It can't get any worse..."

He was about to say that things couldn't get any worse, but at that moment, the roar of the dragon overhead sounded again, shaking their souls. This time it was closer, as if it was right above the battlefield.

This time, everyone on the battlefield, including Robert and Eddard, saw what it was.

Whoosh~

The cold winter wind howled, a huge figure, barely visible, was swiftly moving through the raging snowstorm. It spread its massive wings, tearing through the white world, its enormous body blocking out the sun and forcing its way in.

"Roar—"

The dragon's roar was low, suppressed, piercing through the thick clouds and snow, reaching far into the distance. Its pair of crimson eyes looked down upon the dense army of wights on the ground.

And sitting on the back of the dragon was a young dragon rider, clad in silver Valyrian steel armor, with a crimson longsword at his waist.

He wasn't wearing a helmet, but had it hanging on the side, his silver-gold hair fluttering in the wind, revealing a clean and handsome face.

This young knight was none other than Viserys Targaryen, the 'Young Dragon Lord' who had come all the way from Pentos.

"We're a bit late."

He looked down at the battlefield below.

The expeditionary force to the Seven Kingdoms was divided into two routes. Viserys personally led over twenty thousand Dothraki screamers, according to the original plan, prepared to land at White Harbor, to assist the allied forces stationed at the Bay of Seals, and jointly strike the White Walkers.

The other force, consisting of over ten thousand mercenaries from the Golden Company, was led by another 'Dragon King' of the Targaryen family, the eldest princess of the new dynasty, Rhaenys Targaryen.

However, the plan was good, the first batch of Targaryen forces, including logistics and laborers, totaled forty thousand people leaving Pentos. Countless warships filled the sea, moving towards Westeros in a grand manner.

But the battle plan had changed before it was executed. Viserys did not expect the allied forces to lose at the Bay of Seals so quickly. The Neck, as a huge natural barrier separating the north and south of Westeros, was easy to defend and hard to attack. The rapid defeat of the allied forces had disrupted Viserys's plan.

He received the news almost a month later because he was drifting at sea. His force of more than twenty thousand Dothraki successfully landed at White Harbor, but the place was already a ruin.

But the few wights left in White Harbor naturally couldn't stop the twenty thousand brave and skilled nomadic cavalry. They were humiliated and toyed with, and were torn apart.

Some wights were even captured alive. The Dothraki were natural horsemen, riding on horseback with exquisite riding skills, making the wights dizzy.

Then they used their lasso skills to accurately throw the rope around the necks of the wights, capturing a batch of live wights.

These wights were arranged by Viserys to be put in wooden cages and dragged onto the warships.

Viserys planned to send them back to Pentos, asking Maester Marwyn to study them, to see if they could find any other undiscovered weaknesses of the wights.

Or to give the soldiers of the army who had not yet sailed to Westeros a psychological expectation, these were the enemies they would face in the future.

But these wights were not zombies infected with some T-virus. The reason other humans turned into wights after being bitten to death was because of the magic of the White Walkers, so Viserys was not worried that bringing these wights to Pentos would cause any trouble.

"We can open a zoo in the city of Pentos and exhibit these wights to the public."

"Charge an admission fee."

After the twenty thousand Dothraki landed at White Harbor, they set up camp in this deserted bustling city. White Harbor was basically not severely damaged and was directly taken over by the Targaryen army.

After all the affairs were arranged after landing in Westeros, Viserys left the army and rode his dragon alone to the main battlefield south of the Neck, where the allied forces and the White Walkers were fighting.

He arrived just in time for the decisive battle at hand.

Whoosh~

The howling wind was blowing in Viserys's ears, his silver-gold hair fluttering in the wind.

His hands tightly gripped the saddle, his violet eyes slightly squinted to prevent the snow from blowing into his eyes. Viserys looked at the chaotic battlefield below.

"The situation is a bit bad."

The situation on the battlefield was very clear. The allied forces were in a desperate situation. Defeat or even total annihilation was just a matter of time.

"They can't all die yet."

So Viserys didn't hesitate much, controlling Balerion to dive down.

"Roar—"

The desolate roar of the dragon came from high above, the huge dragon figure spread its wings, quickly diving towards the ground, then a sea of red fire descended from the sky.

"Dragon flame—"

Viserys sat on the dragon's back, his face tense, and spoke in High Valyrian with a low voice.

Boom—

The next second.

A dazzling pillar of fire roared down from the sky, directly engulfing the running wights on the ground.

Rumble—

Balerion flapped its wings and flew forward, the dragon flame it spewed hit the ground, unstoppable, continuously moving forward.

It was like cutting a piece of cake, a long trench was plowed in the dense tide of wights.

Countless wights roared in the surging dragon flame, then fell.

The pressure on the allied soldiers was greatly reduced in an instant.

Chapter 392: Facing the Night King

"Dragon!"

"It's a dragon!"

The allied forces, already cornered and desperate, were initially stunned by the sudden arrival of reinforcements from the sky. However, they quickly came to their senses and began to shout loudly.

Although dragons had disappeared from this world for over a hundred years, stories about them were still widely circulated in the Seven Kingdoms.

The cheers of the desperate allied forces erupted like a tsunami.

Some soldiers couldn't help but weep with joy, seeing light in their despair.

"Dragon!"

"The prince is on the dragon!"

"My God, we have reinforcements!"

Sharp-eyed soldiers spotted the young dragon rider on the dragon's back. Although they couldn't see his face clearly, they saw his distinctive silver-gold hair.

This was the symbol of the legitimate royal family that had ruled Westeros for nearly three hundred years. This symbol was deeply ingrained in the hearts of the people of the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys was crowned on Dragonstone and declared king on the continent of Essos, but for the people of the Seven Kingdoms, their most direct impression of Viserys still remained as the second prince of the Targaryen family, not as a king, since he had not yet sat on the Iron Throne.

The massive figure of the Black Dread constantly danced in the sky, then spewed out flames that burned the wights. Countless wights turned to ashes in the dragon's flame, saving the lives of countless allied soldiers.

...

"Edd! Edd!"

"Wake up! Hey! Stop playing dead! I saw you open your eyes!"

In the midst of the smoke and fire, the surging dragon flame had just fallen in front of Robert, turning a group of wights that had just been howling in front of him into ashes.

The red pillar of fire spat out by the dragon plowed a deep trench on the ground, heading straight to the distance, completely ignoring Robert.

The king of the Seven Kingdoms, however, didn't care about his dignity and was scared enough to lie flat on the ground.

Even so, the king's cheeks were blackened by the dragon's flame, only his eyes were still bright. His black beard was curled by the fire, looking somewhat disheveled.

Robert Baratheon, after clumsily getting up from the ground, pulled up the Duke of Winterfell, who was also lying on the ground with him, still somewhat in shock.

Then he asked loudly.

"Edd! Hey!"

"Is this damn thing a dragon?!"

Eddard Stark had just gotten up from the ground, panting heavily. His dark brown hair was disheveled, his eyes still filled with some unease. He looked up at the huge figure in the distant sky, constantly flying and spewing fire.

He had just been scared out of his wits, and even now he was still somewhat in shock. He thought that he and Robert were going to be burned to death by the dragon. The ancestral Valyrian steel sword Ice of the Stark family had been thrown aside.

But he didn't expect that the dragon rider on the dragon's back didn't even notice the little people on the ground, let alone want to burn them with a dragon's flame.

"Yes, that's right."

"Robert."

Eddard patted the dust off his body, took a deep breath, and calmed his shocked mind.

Then he bent down to pick up the ancestral weapon of the Stark family from the ground, and didn't care about the dignity of the Duke of Winterfell.

"Congratulations, this damn thing is a dragon!"

However, upon hearing his good brother's words, Robert didn't show any expected fear, anger, or other negative emotions. Instead, he burst into laughter, his belly fat trembling slightly.

"Hahaha——"

Eddard Stark heard Robert's heartless laughter and felt his nose was about to be crooked with anger.

"Respectable Robert or whatever dogshit king!"

Then the Duke of Winterfell couldn't help but swear again.

For Eddard, all the noble honor and etiquette were thrown behind his head on the thrilling and dangerous battlefield. Eddard pointed at Robert's nose and yelled.

"I must remind you, the dragon is owned by your enemy! Not you!"

"Not you!"

"It almost turned us into ashes just now!"

"After the war is over, its master would love to parade your head on a spear!"

But when Eddard's words fell, Robert didn't seem to want to stop laughing. They stood on the battlefield with smoke still lingering around them. Then the king of the Seven Kingdoms finally slightly restrained his laughter, waved his hand indifferently, and said.

"I don't care how I'll die in the future."

"That's something that will happen later."

"Edd."

"At least I know that with the help of the dragon, I won't die immediately in the hands of the damn White Walkers, and I certainly won't become these disgusting monsters."

"Riverlands, Vale, King's Landing, I am the king of the Seven Kingdoms."

Robert pointed at his chest with his sturdy finger.

"I can't stand by and watch my people die in the hands of the White Walkers."

This is also why Robert was unwilling to retreat in front of the Twins, even harboring a death wish, because if he died, he wouldn't see it, as long as he was alive, he couldn't allow these things to happen.

"Everyone!"

"Follow me and charge!"

The king of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon, had his cheeks blackened by the dragon's flame, then he raised his storm hammer high and shouted.

"Charge!"

With the help of the dragon, the morale of the allied forces instantly turned around and became high-spirited, and they charged towards the army of the dead.

Meanwhile, in the sky far from the core battlefield, Viserys was riding his dragon towards the rear of the army of the dead.

Rumble——

Balerion lowered its flight altitude, spewing dragon flame and striking the surface of the Green Fork. The hard ice surface shattered instantly, and countless wights standing on the ice surface fell into the cold and rushing river.

Viserys sat on the back of Balerion, with the howling wind in his ears. His violet eyes were locked on the White Walkers not far away.

He saw the White Walker in the middle with an ice crown on his head at a glance.

"He is the Night King."

Viserys's heart tightened slightly.

In the distance.

Hundreds of skeletal horses stood quietly behind the army of the dead, silent. They watched the dragon spewing dragon flame and burning a large number of wights, but they were indifferent.

The Night King stared at the young dragon rider on the dragon's back, and Viserys was also looking at him from afar.

Their eyes met.

Clang——

Viserys drew the Dusk from his waist.

"Hiss!"

The Night King made a cold and bone-chilling sound from his mouth, then stretched out his hand. An ice spear gradually condensed in his hand, then he aimed at Viserys and threw it out fiercely!

A mere mortal was not worth his personal shot, but the human in front of him seemed to be no ordinary mortal.

Whoosh——

The ice spear tore through the air and made a sharp whistling sound, flying straight towards the dragon rider on the dragon's back.

Chapter 393: The Retreat of the White Walkers

"Hmm?"

The dragon rider perched on the dragon's back sensed danger immediately.

He saw the Night King's icy spear being thrown, his clear eyes slightly narrowed, gripping the Sword of the Stars tightly.

"Balerion." Viserys uttered softly.

"Roar—"

The dragon let out a low growl, slightly lowering its altitude, but it was still unable to dodge the spear thrown by the Night King.

The icy spear tore through the air with a piercing whistle, flying straight towards the dragon rider through the white snowstorm.

The Night King wanted to kill this dragon rider who posed a threat to him.

Viserys, seeing that he couldn't dodge, his eyes flickered with a faint purple light, and a complex magic circle appeared in his pupils.

"Eye of the Moment—"

Then he gently tilted his head, swinging the Sword of Dusk to strike the icy spear.

Boom—

A loud noise erupted in the air.

This was the first round of confrontation between the Night King and the Dragon King. The icy spear suddenly exploded into countless shards of ice, scattering on the ground.

"May the Seven Gods bless Prince Viserys!"

The soldiers and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms who had rushed up from afar saw the scene of the dragon rider and the Night King's confrontation. Their hearts were in their throats, and some even began to pray silently.

The dragon rider was the last glory and hope of mankind, holding up the high-end combat power of the allied forces.

If Viserys were to be killed here, the hope that humanity had just surged would once again fall into the abyss.

The Night King had nearly killed the Warden of the North and the King of the Seven Kingdoms with this move. Many soldiers had witnessed the power of the Night King's spear, which was as powerful as a giant crossbow and extremely accurate, directly blowing up the snow shed on the Wall.

"My God!"

"This—"

However, when they saw the icy spear shattered by Viserys's sword and exploded in mid-air, they all let out exclamations of surprise, some even gaped in shock.

They hadn't expected Viserys to be able to shatter the spear thrown by the Night King with a single sword strike.

As the dragon rider facing the Night King directly, Viserys sat on the dragon's back, tightening the belt around his body. The howling wind was in his ears, holding Dusk in his hand, and one hand tightly gripping the saddle ring on the dragon's back.

He bore all the pressure from the Night King.

"Roar—"

Then the dragon's wings violently vibrated, letting out a deafening roar. It flew low and then quickly rose in altitude, weaving through the white snowstorm.

Whoosh~

Whoosh~

The wild wind howled in his ears.

"To defeat the White Walkers, the Night King must be killed."

Viserys sat on the dragon's back, his gaze piercing through the snowstorm as he looked down, gripping Dusk tightly in his hand.

"Kill him."

And on the ground below.

The Night King was still holding the reins of his skeletal horse with one hand. Seeing his attack blocked by the opponent, he didn't even frown.

Because in his view, this was a matter of course.

This dragon rider, like him, was a special existence between gods and mortals, but this range was vast.

Then.

The Night King drew an ancient stone sword from his back. The surface of the stone sword was covered with frost. This was the first time he had drawn this sword from his back.

He had two swords, one was the transparent ice sword used by all White Walkers, and the other was this stone sword on his back.

He looked up at the white sky, the snowstorm still raging. His eyes flickered with icy blue flames, searching for the trace of the dragon.

And at this moment.

"Roar—"

A dragon roar suddenly came from above his head. The Night King quickly turned his head, and what he saw was a sky full of dragon fire pouring down from the sky.

"Dragon fire."

Viserys tightened his grip on the saddle ring, giving Balerion the command.

Rumble—

The dragon roared, spewing dragon fire. The red pillar of fire fell from the sky and struck the ground fiercely. Several ancestors of the Stark family were affected and swallowed by the surging dragon fire. The light of the dragon fire was dazzling and could be seen from a distance.

And the other White Walkers seemed to feel the threat as well. This time they didn't stupidly stand in place, but controlled their skeletal horses to flee to the distance.

The wind and snow howled in Viserys's ears, but not much snow fell on him because Balerion's body temperature was very high and all the snowflakes that fell on the dragon were melted.

"Can he be killed?"

The young dragon rider stared intently at the center of the dragon fire bombardment below, clenching his fist involuntarily.

He was unsure whether dragon fire could kill the Night King.

Then Balerion exhaled all its dragon fire in one breath, and then its wings vibrated and its huge body rose in altitude. The Black Dread once again hovered in the sky.

And below.

The center of the dragon fire, which was as bright as a small sun, was slowly extinguishing due to the lack of fuel.

Viserys's gaze pierced through the snowstorm and looked down. Several ancestors of the Stark family, including their skeletal horses, had disappeared under the dragon fire.

And to his disappointment, after the fire slowly extinguished, the Night King, who was at the center of the dragon fire bombardment, was not burned to death.

The Night King was kneeling on the scorched ground, looking somewhat embarrassed. He held the ancient and mysterious stone sword in one hand, blocking it in front of him.

It seemed that this stone sword played a huge role in resisting the dragon fire. The Night King himself was unscathed, but the skeletal horse under him had been melted by the dragon fire.

Then, feeling the surrounding fire extinguishing, the Night King finally looked up at the black dragon hovering in the sky. The flames in his eyes flickered, and he slowly stood up from the ground.

"Roar—"

The huge figure of the dragon moved through the snowstorm, letting out a dragon roar.

At this moment, the battlefield was filled with smoke. The white snowstorm and smoke intertwined, and the sky was gradually turning white.

Dawn was coming.

The other White Walkers seemed to ignore the death of their three kind. At this moment, all their attention was focused on the Night King.

And the Night King hesitated for a moment, then holding the stone sword, he let out a roar like ice cracking.

On the battlefield ahead.

The massive number of wights seemed to have heard the Night King's command, and then, like the sea receding, they slowly retreated.

The sea receded, leaving a mess all over the ground.

Countless soldiers and nobles of the allied forces who had been fighting in the front saw the White Walkers finally retreating. They were so exhausted that they couldn't even cheer.

Then they couldn't hold on any longer and fell to the ground. Some fell into a deep sleep, while others, due to severe injuries, never woke up again after falling.

A night of fierce battle passed, and the day finally dawned.

The human alliance had successfully repelled a round of attacks from the White Walkers for the first time since the war against the White Walkers began.

Chapter 394: Aftermath of the Battle

"Did we win?"

"Eddard."

The snowstorm seemed to retreat along with the army of the dead. After a night of fierce battle, the sky finally began to brighten.

The brilliant sunlight tore through the darkness, piercing the clouds, and spilled onto the silent battlefield by the Green Fork.

Robert Baratheon, the king of the Seven Kingdoms, lay on the scorched earth burnt by dragon fire, unwilling to get up. Beside him, Eddard Stark, the beleaguered Warden of the North, also lay on the ground.

Not far away, Stannis Baratheon, the noble Lord of Dragonstone and the king's own brother, held a long sword with a chipped blade, watching with furrowed brows as a medic bandaged his wounded hand.

Four of his fingers on his left hand had been gnawed off by a wight in the recent battle.

If one looked closely, they could see the veins on Stannis's forehead throbbing. However, Stannis was as stoic as a stone, biting his lip and not making a sound.

The medic bandaging his wound admired the lord's astonishing willpower.

Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West, was also somewhat disheveled. His lion armor was covered in blood, and his golden cloak was torn.

The Lord of Casterly Rock staggered on the spot, then was supported by his family's knights. He was panting slightly, and a rare look of confusion appeared in his eyes.

"My lord."

Then, the Lord of Casterly Rock still maintained his dignity, and with the support of his family's knights, he climbed onto his horse.

Not long ago, during the most intense part of the war, Edmure Tully, the heir of Riverrun, who had feigned death on the battlefield amidst the chaos, realized that the war was over.

Then Edmure smeared some blood on his face, took advantage of the opportunity when no one was paying attention, quickly got up, supported himself with the hilt of his sword, and put on an exhausted and shaky appearance. The soldiers of Riverrun who were looking for him wept with joy.

The surviving descendants of House Frey also found the body of their ancestor who had committed suicide by jumping into the ice on the frozen surface of the Green Fork. However, by this time, old Frey's body had already cooled.

The surface of the Green Fork was suddenly filled with the wailing of the Frey family's filial sons and grandsons.

Perhaps it was because the surface of the river was not frozen solid enough, or perhaps it was because the Night King's brief retreat with the army of the dead caused a slight rise in the temperature of Riverrun.

The frozen surface of the Green Fork loosened a bit, and with the populous Frey family gathered on the ice, there were a few too many people. Without any warning, an ice-breaking accident suddenly occurred.

These wailing Frey family filial sons and grandsons, along with their ancestor's body, fell into the icy river.

The sudden change once again caused chaos on the banks of the Green Fork, and people extended their hands to rescue the fallen members of the Frey family.

Unfortunately, due to the wide surface of the Green Fork and the serious ice-breaking, temporary boats were found for rescue, and many people were rescued ashore, but in the end, there were still more than a dozen people and the body of the Frey family's ancestor who were washed away by the river, disappearing without a trace.

On the banks of the Green Fork, the cries of the Frey family became louder, and even a bit more genuine.

After the victory of the war, there were still many messy things.

Eddard Stark, lying on the ground, heard the king's words and shook his head slightly.

"Don't celebrate too soon."

"This is only a temporary victory, Robert."

Eddard Stark lay on the ground, his voice somewhat weak.

"The White Walkers will return."

The army of the dead was only temporarily repelled, perhaps to gather more strength, or perhaps for other purposes, but Eddard did not believe that the White Walkers would give up and stop at the Neck.

"A temporary victory is still a victory."

Robert, lying on the ground, took a few deep breaths, then sat up from the ground, dusted off his body, and looked very optimistic.

At this moment, a dragon roar suddenly came from the horizon. A huge figure spread its wings and appeared in everyone's field of vision. Viserys, who had gone to chase the army of the dead, finally returned.

"Roar—"

The dragon let out a roar, and its huge shadow enveloped the ground. Then Balerion descended from the sky and landed in front of Robert Baratheon.

Boom—

The dragon landed with a loud noise, and the rolling waves spread out.

Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, who were sitting on the ground, were choked by the dust, and the soldiers of the allied forces in the distance were also affected.

"What does the prince want to do?"

A noble loyal to Robert Baratheon saw this scene and immediately became nervous, such as his two missing Kingsguard, but they didn't dare to come closer, after all, that big creature was still there.

And more soldiers of the allied forces chose to watch coldly, sitting on the ground with their weapons, not even standing up. Without the command of their own lord, they would not step forward to help.

"That's Viserys."

Tywin Lannister, who was supported and sitting on horseback, looked at the young and heroic dragon rider in the distance.

But the distance was too far, and he couldn't see Viserys's face clearly.

And in the center of the storm, the two people most affected by the dust were coughing continuously.

"Cough—"

"Phew."

Robert spat out some dust somewhat awkwardly, and Eddard Stark was no better.

Then, when the dust settled, they finally saw the huge creature in front of them. Balerion's crimson eyes were coldly scrutinizing the two little guys below.

It knew that they had a grudge against Viserys. It didn't know why Viserys stopped it from killing them. Otherwise, Balerion would have eaten the two of them in one bite when it landed just now.

But at this moment, a clear voice came from above the heads of the two men below.

"Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm's End."

"And Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."

Viserys sat high on the dragon's back, with the Sword of the Stars at his waist. He wore a helmet of Valyrian steel, his face was not clear, but his voice came from under the armor, calm without much fluctuation.

"I've heard of both of you a long time ago, but I didn't expect our first meeting to be like this."

Viserys's words sounded sarcastic, but there was no such implication in his tone, but rather calm.

He indeed had long admired the two men, but he didn't expect to meet them in such a situation and with such an identity.

"Allow me to introduce myself."

Then, without waiting for the two men to speak, Viserys unbuckled the leather belt of his dragon riding gear.

Then he stood up from the dragon's back. His silver armor shone in the sunlight, a sight that countless knights dreamed of.

"My name is Viserys Targaryen."

Then the young dragon rider jumped down from the dragon's back with ease, landing heavily on the ground.

Boom—

Dust flew in layers from the center, and the person in the middle slowly stood up.

He swept his gaze over the two men in front of him, then said calmly.

"I'm the one who came to kill you."

Chapter 395: The Kings' Conference

The atmosphere became tense as Viserys's words fell upon the ears of the two men before him.

Eddard raised his Valyrian steel sword, Ice, positioning himself in front of Robert, his voice low as he suggested his good brother make a retreat.

"Robert."

However, Robert Baratheon, standing beside him, showed no intention of turning tail and running, nor did he raise his warhammer, Storm.

Although he was a brute, he didn't believe Viserys would attack at this moment. After all, with the dragon nearby, a single blast of dragon fire could reduce them both to ashes.

Still, Robert's tone was somewhat resentful.

"Hmph, lad, you're quite confident."

"If it weren't for the dragon..."

Robert himself was a battle-hardened warrior with extraordinary strength. Now in his prime at over thirty years old, he naturally felt a bit indignant at being looked down upon by a young knight in his late teens.

Viserys, too, removed his Valyrian steel helmet and held it in his arms, revealing a clean, handsome face. His silver-gold hair shimmered in the sunlight. Hearing Robert's words, he slightly turned his head to look at him.

"And what?"

"If there were no dragon, would you like to try?"

With his current strength, killing the two men before him would be as easy as turning his hand. When Balerion had landed just now, he could have burned them both to death with a single breath of dragon fire.

The main culprits of the Usurper's War indeed deserved to die, but now was not the best time to kill them.

Viserys had given them a chance - that was when he landed in Westeros. If they had surrendered and bent the knee, he might have allowed Robert to retain his dukedom of Storm's End.

However, Robert ignored his goodwill. Once he landed in Westeros with his army, the main culprits of the Usurper's War must face the judgment of the law.

Treason was punishable by death under the laws of the Seven Kingdoms.

Of course, they also had the option of donning the black and serving a life sentence in the Night's Watch, with no possibility of parole.

But whether this option would be applicable during the trial would depend on the will of the king himself.

If the king was determined to see the traitors die, then even if they wanted to don the black, it would be useless.

Viserys would not kill the two men before him himself. That would be too easy for them and would not serve as a deterrent or a warning to others.

He would defeat the alliance led by the wolf, stag, fish, and falcon, then hold a fair and open trial for all the rebels in King's Landing, list their crimes, and punish them according to their sins. Only in this way could their deaths serve the greatest purpose.

Robert, however, was choked by Viserys's words. His face turned slightly red, feeling a great humiliation.

The issue of the Targaryen remnants across the Narrow Sea was what he cared about most while sitting on the Iron Throne.

In recent years, he had naturally heard about the rapid rise of the Targaryen family, the establishment of the 'City of Wood', the successive conquest of the Andals and the Rhoynar, the myth of capturing a city with only two hundred men, capturing the Mountain, killing the Faceless Man, defeating the alliance of five Dothraki Khals.

Viserys's name was even somewhat mystically passed down among the rangers and mercenaries of Essos, and he was faintly referred to as the first swordsman among the Free Cities.

Such a title almost reached the peak of human personal strength, and the one who had this honor before was the First Swordsman of Braavos.

After being choked by Viserys's words, Robert did not impulsively challenge Viserys.

"Hmph."

Robert grunted in frustration but did not continue on Viserys's topic. Instead, he looked up and down at the silver-haired youth who had suddenly descended from the sky and saved the allied forces.

The appearance of the other party made him feel familiar, and some past events could not help but resurface in his mind, suddenly feeling a bit of desolation.

"You're not like your father."

Robert looked at Viserys and suddenly said.

Looking at Viserys's face, which was extremely similar to someone in his memory, Robert couldn't help but clench his fist.

However, he knew that the person before him was not the one he remembered. Even though they were brothers...

"You're not like Rhaegar either."

Then Robert shook his head and added.

Eddard, standing by the side, lowered his great sword, looking at his good brother Robert in surprise.

He had never thought that Robert would speak so calmly and peacefully with a Targaryen heir.

Was it because of it?

Eddard looked up. A huge shadow was looming on the ground. Balerion, the Black Dread, was emitting white steam all over his body. His massive form was half-lying on the ground, his crimson eyes scrutinizing the two men before him.

A dragon could make people calm.

...

And in the distance.

All eyes were on this place after the dragon descended from the sky.

The kings' conference.

And Eddard became a foil, because the distance was too far, no one knew what Viserys and Robert were talking about, and with the presence of the dragon, others did not dare to approach easily.

Not long ago, the terrifying scene of the dragon burning the banks of the Green Fork was still fresh in their minds.

At that time, the dragon was their ally, but now if they approached, the dragon would become their enemy, which was something all the survivors of the allied forces did not want to see.

The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms and the soldiers of the allied forces were all anxiously watching this side, fearing that the talks would break down and the two sides would come to blows.

Then they saw that the two kings were safe and sound, and there was no sign of a fight, which relieved them a lot.

"What are the chances of successfully assassinating Viserys with a giant crossbow from here?"

Stannis had dealt with his left hand, which had four fingers bitten off, and looked at his empty left hand, which was still oozing blood.

Then he turned his head and asked his trusted staff, 'Onion Knight' Ser Davos.

And the Onion Knight was still looking at Stannis's left hand in a daze, not knowing what he was thinking.

Then, hearing his words, he was slightly stunned, then seriously pondered for a moment, and actually answered seriously.

"I wouldn't advise you to do that, Lord Stannis."

"The accuracy of the giant crossbow is not high, and they are too close. There's a good chance of accidentally hurting King Robert or Lord Eddard."

"And even if Viserys were assassinated, that dragon..."

Ser Davos answered seriously, but Stannis didn't listen to him.

"Hmph."

The Lord of Dragonstone just chuckled mysteriously, seeming to have something to say but shaking his head, patting Davos on the shoulder, and then walking towards the distance.

And the Onion Knight stood in place, somewhat puzzled, then added another sentence to Stannis's retreating figure.

"Hey, Lord Stannis, we don't have a giant crossbow right now."

And in the distance.

The brief kings' conference was over.

But rather than a conference, it was more like two people standing by the roadside and chatting for a bit, only the tone was not so harmonious.

Then Viserys got back on the dragon.

Balerion let out a low roar, flapped his wings, and flew into the sky.

Chapter 396: Landing on Dragonstone

The Battle of the Green Fork had ended.

The allied forces of the Seven Kingdoms paid a heavy price for this battle, suffering the most severe casualties since the start of the war. Tens of thousands of soldiers died on the battlefield, and countless more were injured.

The allied forces launched a desperate charge against the army of the dead, at one point falling into a dire situation. However, with the unexpected aid of a dragon from the heavens, they managed to repel the attack of the White Walkers.

The army of the dead retreated back into the Neck to recover their strength.

Meanwhile, the humans achieved their most glorious victory since the start of the war - successfully repelling an attack from the White Walkers. But the price they paid for this victory was, of course, immense.

The Battle of the Green Fork also set a new record for the highest-ranking noble casualty in the war against the White Walkers.

Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing, committed suicide by jumping into the river, surpassing the previous records set by the Earls of Golden Tooth and Hearth.

This record-breaking method was not particularly honorable, but it became an interesting trivia in the war against the White Walkers.

The historic and significant meeting between Viserys and Robert Baratheon yielded some results.

They reached a series of verbal agreements, such as cooperation in fighting the White Walkers. As for what would happen after the war against the White Walkers was over, it went without saying.

After the meeting, Viserys mounted his dragon and left the battlefield of the Green Fork, flying back to White Harbor across the Neck.

His main force, consisting of twenty thousand Dothraki horsemen, remained in White Harbor.

The war here had temporarily ended, but the turmoil in Westeros was far from over.

Prince Doran Martell remained in Sunspear, but the Dornish army began to mobilize, amassing a large force at the Prince's Pass, posing a serious threat to the border nobles.

The Tyrells of Highgarden were on high alert, calling their vassals to discuss countermeasures and seeking help from Storm's End, hoping for assistance from the Stormlands if war broke out between the Riverlands and Dorne.

Unfortunately, the Tyrells' plea for help fell on deaf ears in Storm's End.

Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, was extremely anxious. At this time, he suddenly missed his beloved commander, Randyll Tarly, the Earl of Horn Hill.

If the famous southern general Randyll Tarly were here, Dorne would surely not be so brazen. At the same time, he harbored resentment towards Lord Renly of Storm's End.

The Tyrell family had already formed an alliance with the Baratheons. Once 'the Little Rose of Highgarden', his daughter Margaery Tyrell, had her first period, she could marry Joffrey, the prince of the Baratheon family.

The two powerful families should have supported each other in times of crisis, but Lord Mace did not expect Renly to be so weak, hiding behind closed doors out of fear of Dorne.

However, a few days later, news from King's Landing reached Highgarden, and Mace Tyrell understood what had happened that made Storm's End unable to help.

It turned out that a fleet traveling between Westeros and Essos brought explosive news.

Viserys Targaryen III, the 'pretender king' in Pentos across the Narrow Sea, had decided to send troops to Westeros.

Tens of thousands of troops setting sail from the port of Pentos could not be concealed, especially with two dragons. Therefore, the news had spread to King's Landing before the army even arrived in Westeros.

The arrival of an army from another continent caused panic in King's Landing.

However, by this time, the news of the death of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, could no longer be concealed, and the one sitting on the Iron Throne was Queen Regent Cersei.

There were even rumors in the city that Queen Cersei had sent someone to kill the Hand of the King, claiming that Jon Arryn had found evidence of incest between the queen and her brother.

Cersei ordered the news of the Targaryen army's crossing to be suppressed and not leaked. At the same time, the city gates were closed, only to be opened at specific times, a curfew was enforced, the spread of rumors was prohibited, and those who violated the ban were all hanged on the city walls and left to die in the sun.

Under the orders of the Queen Regent, King's Landing had become a turtle hiding in its shell, ignoring the source of the news and not sending out any ships to investigate the sea.

Meanwhile, on Dragonstone.

It was an ordinary morning, with a gentle breeze and bright sunshine.

The rushing waves constantly washed over the rocks on the island. The majestic castle, entirely made of black stone, stood on Dragonstone.

This castle, built entirely of black stone, was a product of Valyrian stonemasonry, a technique now lost, making it different from the castles on Westeros.

The banner of House Baratheon fluttered above the main keep of Dragonstone, a black stag crowned on a field of gold.

This was the domain of Stannis Baratheon, a branch of House Baratheon, who was ennobled as the Duke of Dragonstone after the Usurper's War.

Stannis had responded to his elder brother's call to fight the White Walkers and had been away from Dragonstone for a long time.

His four-year-old daughter, Shireen, had even forgotten what her father looked like.

Now, Shireen Baratheon was having breakfast in the dining room with her mother, Selyse Florent.

However, at this moment.

The melodious and desolate sound of a horn suddenly echoed from the sea, followed by the dense alarm bells and horn sounds from Dragonstone Castle.

A Baratheon guard rushed into the dining room, startling Selyse and her daughter who were having breakfast.

"My lady, something terrible has happened!"

Selyse Florent's face showed a hint of displeasure, but as the Duchess of Dragonstone, she had excellent noble manners.

She had heard the warning horns and knew something had happened, so she didn't blame the guard. Instead, she put down her spoon and patiently asked.

"What's going on?"

"Why is there such a fuss?"

However, before the guard could explain.

At that moment.

A loud noise suddenly came from above the dining room.

It was as if a massive object had landed on the castle, causing dust to fall from the ceiling and startling everyone in the castle.

The four-year-old Shireen Baratheon was immediately frightened into tears, and her mother, Selyse Florent, was also startled, her face pale and somewhat panicked.

"What's happening?"

"What's going on?"

And on the sea.

The entire sea was filled with warships as far as the eye could see.

Each ship was flying the banner of House Targaryen and the emblem of the Golden Company.

Rhaenys Targaryen, the eldest princess of the new dynasty, personally rode the green dragon, Rhaegal, and landed on Dragonstone.

The dragon landed on the castle, letting out a deafening roar.

The guards of Dragonstone were trembling with fear, and then they all dropped their weapons and knelt to surrender.

Chapter 397: Conquering Dragonstone

"Roar—"

The dragon's roar made Dragonstone tremble. The servants in the castle were scared into a frenzy, shivering and hiding. The mother and daughter of Dragonstone also hid in the dining room, not daring to show their faces.

The guards of Dragonstone were also somewhat panicked. Then, seeing the overwhelming warships sailing towards Dragonstone from the sea, their faces finally showed signs of despair. They dropped their weapons one after another, kneeling to surrender.

Rhaenys, leading the Golden Company herself, easily took Dragonstone without a fight. The guards of Dragonstone did not resist at all and surrendered without a fight.

Then, the soldiers of the Golden Company successfully landed and took control of the entire Dragonstone.

"Princess Rhaenys' divine might is unparalleled," said Myles Toyne, the commander of the Golden Company, clad in heavy plate armor and a black cloak.

He stood on the muddy land of Dragonstone's coast, looking up at the volcano spewing white smoke, and couldn't help but sigh.

The dragon was flying in the sky, the volcano of Dragonstone was emitting thick smoke, the endless warships, and the soldiers ready to fight. For a moment, Myles Toyne felt as if he was in the grand scene of Aegon preparing to conquer Westeros three hundred years ago.

Rhaenys, the dragon knight, also stood on the coast. She was wearing a custom-made lady's armor, her brown hair flowing, a black and red cloak draped over her shoulders, a dragon head badge, and a long sword at her waist. She looked heroic.

"Thank you for your praise, Lord Myles Toyne, but I'm still far behind my brother," she said humbly after hearing Myles Toyne's praise.

Myles Toyne glanced at her when he heard her words. He knew that sometimes Princess Rhaenys would call the king 'brother'.

This was not strange. After all, Princess Rhaenys was a few years older than the other regent princess.

"What does your Highness plan to do next..."

The commander of the Unsullied, Grey Worm, stood beside Rhaenys with his hands behind his back, listening to the conversation without saying a word.

In this expedition, Viserys led the Dothraki to the front line, and the fleet escorting them was Euron Greyjoy's Iron Fleet.

Rhaenys personally led more than ten thousand soldiers of the Golden Company, and also drew two thousand Unsullied as her personal guards, protected by her side, escorted by the Dragonstone fleet of the Master of the Sea, Jeffrey Bracken.

Viserys arranged this plan with consideration. His side was a hellish difficulty level.

Not only were the enemies they faced terrifying, but the soldiers under his command, whether they were Dothraki or the Iron Fleet, Euron Greyjoy, were not easy to deal with.

He was worried that Rhaenys could not deter these people.

Therefore, he commanded all of them, and what he left to Rhaenys were relatively simple beginner-level tasks.

With the dragon Rhaegal, the loyal Unsullied protecting her, and old man Jeffrey Bracken, compared to the Dothraki and Euron, the Golden Company was as gentle as a little lamb.

Rhaenys' first major task after capturing Dragonstone was to build a supply line between Pentos and Dragonstone to ensure that the army had no worries about advancing.

"Over here!"

"Be careful!"

The soldiers of the Golden Company were busy unloading war supplies.

Then, led by the Unsullied soldiers wearing new dragon scale armor and full weapons, Princess Rhaenys walked in the front, with Myles Toyne, the commander of the Golden Company, following behind her. They climbed the long stairs to the black castle on Dragonstone.

Rhaenys had spent her childhood here. Every flower, every stone, every tree, every stone, she was extremely familiar with. However, as time passed, the memories of the past became blurred.

"Things have changed a lot."

Since Stannis ascended to Dragonstone, all items and brocades related to the Targaryen family in the castle were taken down and replaced with the banners of House Baratheon.

"Your Highness."

Outside the castle gate, two fully armed Unsullied soldiers were on guard.

Rhaenys' Unsullied guards had already taken control of the castle. Now all the guards of Dragonstone had their weapons confiscated and were detained by the soldiers of the Golden Company.

The Unsullied soldiers saw Rhaenys and her party coming, slightly bowed their heads in salute, and then turned around to open the castle gate for Princess Rhaenys.

Boom—

The metal castle gate made a dull sound and slowly opened.

If it weren't for the guards of Dragonstone seeing the dragon landing and immediately kneeling to surrender, it would probably take some effort to break this castle.

However, Rhaenys, standing outside the city gate, did not rush in. Instead, she stood still, looking at the banner of House Baratheon fluttering above her head.

Then she reached out to take it down and looked at it in her hand, then threw it to the ground and said to the Unsullied soldier.

"Clean up all these things, but don't waste them. Distribute them to the people on the island to make some clothes."

"Compared to the emblems on the brocade, the people know better who is really good to them."

"Understood, Your Highness!"

The Unsullied soldier, wearing a helmet, bowed his head and promised in a serious voice.

Rhaenys also nodded in satisfaction, then continued to walk into the castle.

Everything in the castle was extremely familiar to Rhaenys. Every room, every corridor, the empty hall, and the stone throne in the middle.

Rhaenys remembered that Viserys had met the envoy of Braavos here before leaving Dragonstone, and she had also sat on it. It was cold and hard, not very comfortable.

But she never thought that one day she would return here as a conqueror.

The brown-haired girl, clad in bright armor, stood in the hall, looking somewhat dazedly at the throne in the middle, her eyes complex.

Because of being too familiar, Viserys didn't notice that with the passage of time, the two once carefree girls had gradually grown up and each had their own thoughts.

And Grey Worm stood with his hands behind his back, and Myles Toyne was silent, fearing to disturb Rhaenys.

After a while, Rhaenys came back to her senses and gave a slightly apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry."

Then she looked around and asked.

"I heard that we've captured the wife and daughter of Stannis Baratheon, the usurper's brother. Where are they?"

Chapter 398: Conquering Tidestone Isle

Selyse Florent and her daughter remained in the castle's dining room, their Baratheon guards replaced by the Unsullied.

When Rhaenys walked in, the mother and daughter trembled slightly. The little girl, Shireen, was crying uncontrollably, but her mother, Selyse Florent, held a semblance of the Duchess of Dragonstone's demeanor.

Upon seeing Rhaenys, she suppressed her fear, set her daughter aside, and rose from her chair to curtsy.

"Your Highness."

From the Unsullied, she had learned that the one leading the attack on Dragonstone was the 'pretender king' Viserys' niece, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, another dragon rider of House Targaryen.

Rhaenys looked at the crying girl and the woman trying to appear calm but shivering beneath her clothes, and sighed softly.

She did not mistreat the unfortunate mother and daughter. Instead, she spoke a few words, not imprisoning them but allowing them to continue living in the castle until Stannis was captured or the war ended.

The rule of not punishing the family for the sins of the individual was an unspoken rule among the nobility. There was always a way out; otherwise, there wouldn't be so many ancient families that had survived for centuries or millennia.

However, Selyse and her daughter were not allowed to leave the castle and were confined within the range of the soldiers' watch.

Rhaenys then sat on the throne of Dragonstone, issuing orders with practiced ease.

Thanks to Viserys' frequent absences, Rhaenys had gained experience in ruling in his stead. Plus, she had a good teacher, her uncle Oberyn, who was knowledgeable and wise. Despite her young age, she was already adept at handling political and military affairs.

That's why Viserys had confidently allowed Rhaenys to lead a large army to take Dragonstone.

However, Dragonstone was not the final destination of this army. Rhaenys planned to go further.

Sitting on the stone throne in the Great Hall of Dragonstone, she sought the opinions of her three commanders: Mys Toyn, commander of the Golden Company; Joffrey Bracken, commander of the Dragonstone fleet; and the Unsullied commander, Grey Worm.

Then, she received a unanimous affirmative response.

The next day, the Targaryen army made a swift attack on Dragonstone. The Dragonstone garrison surrendered without a fight. After only a day's rest, the Targaryen army set sail again, heading for another island not far from Dragonstone.

Tidestone Isle, home of House Valerion.

Joffrey Bracken, commander of the Dragonstone fleet, led part of the Golden Company to attack Tidestone Isle.

House Valerion was a distant relative of House Targaryen, both originating from the Freehold of Valyria. However, House Valerion was not one of the ancient forty families but a rising house in the Empire.

Before Aenar Targaryen led his family to migrate to Dragonstone, House Valerion had already settled on Tidestone Isle.

In the early days of the Targaryen dynasty, House Valerion held significant power within the kingdom. The first commander of the Kingsguard and the Master of Ships were both from House Valerion. For a time, only members of House Valerion were appointed as the Master of Ships, as if the position had become hereditary to them.

However, even the closest of families could not resist the passage of time and the lure of power.

When House Targaryen fell during Robert's Rebellion, House Valerion declared neutrality, only to secretly side with the usurper, betraying their distant kin.

In the end, they joined Stannis' royal fleet in a surprise attack on Dragonstone, nearly annihilating the Dragonstone fleet. Joffrey Bracken, the fleet commander, was nearly killed by an arrow to the chest, and House Targaryen lost its last territory in Westeros.

But now, House Targaryen was making a comeback, and it was time to exact revenge on the traitors.

The mighty Dragonstone fleet, carrying the soldiers of the Golden Company, set sail for Tidestone Isle. The Valerion family, who prided themselves on their 'loyalty and bravery,' was in complete chaos.

Due to the close distance, they had noticed the fall of Dragonstone to the Targaryen army that morning.

Munford Valerion, the Earl of Tidestone Isle, hastily sought help from King's Landing, hoping to get support from the royal fleet docked there. He knew he had betrayed House Targaryen on the battlefield and was unlikely to be forgiven.

Therefore, he also arranged for his wife and newborn child, Monterys, and other family members to escape.

"Go!"

"Take our child and flee to King's Landing!"

The handsome Earl Munford Valerion, clad in armor, stood at the port, kissing his wife goodbye. His golden hair fluttered in the wind.

Then the warship set sail, heading for King's Landing.

Earl Munford stood on the watchtower, watching the warship carrying his family recede into the distance, a relieved smile finally appearing on his face.

However, Earl Munford was too early to rejoice, and his plan was too late.

The Targaryen army's attack on Tidestone Isle was faster than Munford had anticipated. The Dragonstone fleet, fueled by a desire for revenge, arrived in overwhelming numbers, easily surrounding Tidestone Isle.

Boom, boom, boom—

Huge rocks flew into the sky, then fell.

The ship carrying the family of Earl Munford Valerion had just left the port and hadn't gone far when it was bombarded by the trebuchets on the Black Dread.

In an instant, the Valerion warship was shattered and sank into the sea. Earl Munford Valerion, standing at the port, witnessed the entire scene, his eyes nearly bursting with rage.

However, Tidestone Isle was then attacked by the Targaryen army. Countless soldiers of the Golden Company landed on Tidestone Isle. The soldiers of House Valerion fought to the death, but the difference in strength was too great, and they were killed one after another, their bodies strewn across the field.

"Kill!"

The flaming rocks, like cannonballs, blasted open the castle gates. Earl Munford Valerion was captured after a fierce fight in the castle and then ignominiously taken to Dragonstone.

The Blackwater Bay was broken through by the Targaryen army overnight, and the mighty army was pressing towards King's Landing.

Meanwhile, in distant Pentos.

A piece of good news suddenly arrived.

It even disturbed Oberyn, who was tirelessly training his army, preparing to land in Westeros.

He rode a fast horse and, escorted by his personal guards, rushed to Pentos overnight.

It turned out that the 'future queen,' Princess Arianne Martell, was pregnant.

According to the local doctors in Pentos, Arianne should have been pregnant for about two months.

It was right after Viserys had just returned from the Valyrian ruins, a time of passionate reunion after a long separation, that he had apparently hit the mark.

Chapter 399: Pregnancy

The news exploded in Pentos like a bomb, causing a huge uproar.

The news leaked out, and countless citizens, mercenaries, and sailors in and outside the city couldn't help but discuss it. Even in the taverns, they raised their glasses to the king.

The leader having an heir is the best insurance for the whole faction, safeguarding everyone's interests.

Viserys rose to fame at a young age, shouldering the heavy responsibility of reviving House Targaryen. With his step-by-step progress, numerous interest groups have gathered under the banner of Targaryen. Everyone relied on this banner for their livelihood.

From Pentos to Andalos, from the Tower of the Hand to the Norvos Mountains, from the Andals, Rhoynar, and Dothraki, to the Unsullied and the Golden Company, and so on.

However, Viserys rose to fame too early, was young, held a high position, and the disadvantage of having no offspring was exposed early on.

For a faction leader, a king of a country, not having an heir is a very dangerous thing. Everyone's interests cannot be guaranteed, and a seemingly strong country can easily disintegrate overnight.

Just like the previous Sea Lord of Braavos secretly sent a Faceless Man to assassinate Viserys.

Their enemies all knew that the biggest weakness of the seemingly unstoppable House Targaryen lay in Viserys himself.

If Viserys suddenly died, House Targaryen would easily fall into division due to the lack of successors. After all, both princesses are dragon riders and legitimate Targaryen heirs.

Rhaenys, a few years older, holds the title of Princess Regent, has extensive regency experience, and is supported by the Dornish and other soldiers.

Although Daenerys is younger, her bloodline is more pure than Rhaenys', and her title as the Mother of Dragons gives her a higher reputation among the people. She also has the support of many Andal soldiers who followed Viserys early on.

However, all of this is based on the condition that Viserys has no offspring.

Once Viserys has an heir, all problems will be solved. His successor will only be his offspring and will be supported by all his officials.

Inside the Palace of the Nine Towers.

Now that Viserys and Rhaenys have left, Pentos has entered the era of Daenerys' rule.

"Honorable Daenerys Targaryen, Princess of the Stormborn, Mother of Dragons."

The president of the Merchant's Guild prostrated on the ground, loudly calling Daenerys' name.

Not long ago, the Merchant's Guild and the port workers had a conflict, mainly over wages and working hours.

Pentos did not explicitly ban slavery, so the issue of slavery still exists in this city, and there are a large number of workers in addition to slaves.

This time the conflict mainly stemmed from a previous smashing incident.

The silver-haired girl sat on the throne where Viserys and Rhaenys once sat, wearing a golden crown and looking a bit restless, her pretty little face full of tension.

Now Daenerys is at an age where she can't sit still, but her brother has thrown this mess directly at her.

After listening to the defense of the president of the Merchant's Guild and the complaints of the labor representative, Daenerys took a deep breath.

Her beautiful light purple eyes looked helplessly at the Hand of the King beside her, Jon Connington. She didn't understand what either side was saying.

The man with red-gray hair wore the golden Hand of the King badge. He felt the princess's plea for help, thought for a moment, and then spoke.

"Wages for the workers can be increased by 20%, and working hours can be appropriately reduced."

The workers demanded that the merchants double their wages, otherwise, they would not be able to live in the expensive city of Pentos.

However, Jon Connington did not support this demand after some consideration but still asked the merchants to curb their greed a bit.

There are several main reasons. First, the merchants are the main taxpayers in Pentos.

The city officials cannot collect taxes from ordinary workers, they can only rely on merchants. However, the rise in commodity prices indirectly collects taxes from the workers.

The second is the issue of slavery. The price of slaves is not cheap in fact, but if the price of labor rises too sharply, such as a demand for a 100% increase, then the merchants would rather pay a high price for slaves than hire cheap labor.

This is not good for the stability of the city and the healthy development of the economy.

The Pentos government still encourages merchants to hire workers rather than buy slaves. Slavery threatens the development and centralized rule of the country.

Plus, considering the current direction of the king's rule...

"Abolishing slavery is inevitable, but the resistance to reform is not small."

Jon Connington made a decision. The merchant representative bowed slightly, accepted the result, and then stepped down.

The labor representative was somewhat dissatisfied, but seeing the cold eyes of the fully armed Unsullied soldiers around him, he could only shrink his neck, thank the princess for her judgment, and then step down.

After the merchant representative and the labor representative stepped down, Jon Connington patiently explained to Daenerys why he made such a decision.

In the end, royal power still represents the interests of the major nobles, but not entirely, ruling is the foundation.

Daenerys nodded as if she understood.

Then another noble proposed that since Princess Arianne Martell was pregnant, Pentos should hold a celebration.

This not only signifies that House Targaryen has a successor, but it also proves that the king 'can'.

Even if this child miscarries in the end, everyone has taken a reassurance pill, after all, they have been waiting for this reassurance pill for a long time.

Arianne has been pregnant for two months. She didn't pay much attention when she missed her period last month. However, when her period still didn't come in the second month, she was reminded by her maid to check, and then she received the good news.

Whether Arianne will give birth to a princess or a prince for Viserys is worth celebrating.

And correspondingly, the wedding of the two should also be put on the agenda. Viserys originally planned to hold the wedding after unifying the Seven Kingdoms in King's Landing, but it seems that it might be too late now.

Viserys is still in Westeros fighting the White Walkers, and of course, he knows nothing about his impending fatherhood.

And Daenerys, still young, is somewhat confused about the matters of men and women and the fact that her brother is about to have a child.

But in the end, under everyone's gaze, she nodded slightly and agreed.

Oberyn wrote a personal letter ready to tell his brother, Prince Doran, the good news.

And at this moment, snowflakes suddenly began to fall outside the window, Oberyn, holding a quill, stared blankly at the scene outside the window.

Chapter 400: The Braavos Snow Disaster

A light snowfall began in Pentos.

However, in Braavos, which is situated at a higher latitude and further north, a heavy snowfall was taking place.

Snowflakes, like goose feathers, fluttered down, quickly accumulating on the streets and rooftops. The entire 'City of Stone' was transformed into a winter wonderland.

People venturing out in the early morning and merchants arriving by ship overnight were astounded by this unprecedented snowfall, marveling at the beauty of nature.

"When was the last time Braavos saw a snowfall like this?" asked a gaunt middle-aged man, his voice trembling. He was the current Sea Lord of Braavos, Ferrego Antaryon, who, supported by his First Swordsman, Quillan Valentin, had come to the open-air corridor of the Sea Lord's Palace.

Feeling the chill wind that slipped through the gaps in his clothing, he couldn't help but shiver and cough violently.

"Sea Lord," Quillan quickly removed his own cloak and draped it over Ferrego Antaryon.

This sudden snowfall in Braavos had caught many off guard. They were ill-prepared for the cold, and as a result, many citizens of Braavos were shivering in the cold, some even falling ill. However, the Sea Lord himself had been in poor health for many years and naturally couldn't withstand the cold.

Yet, interestingly, Ferrego Antaryon had been in this frail state for many years. Everyone knew that the Sea Lord's days were numbered, and they expected him to pass away at any moment. However, despite his frailty, Ferrego Antaryon clung to life stubbornly.

Everyone was waiting for him to die, but he held on, refusing to let go.

Afterwards, the weak Sea Lord, supported by Quillan, returned to his bedroom.

A snowfall, the likes of which hadn't been seen in many years, was just a fleeting spectacle. The Sea Lord didn't give it much thought.

However, a day and a night passed quickly, and the heavy snowfall in the sky showed no signs of abating. Instead, it intensified, falling relentlessly and eventually causing an unprecedented snow disaster in the history of Braavos.

No one had anticipated such an event. The heavy snowfall blocked roads, froze the city's narrow canals, and collapsed the houses in the slums.

A large number of Braavosi citizens, who were impoverished and had no preparation for the winter, were frozen to death in their beds. Homeless vagabonds were also frozen to death on the streets.

Overnight, Braavos, the massive city, experienced a terrifying white terror. A large number of citizens were frozen to death, some were crushed to death when their houses collapsed under the weight of the snow, and others fell into the water and drowned.

According to the statistics of the Braavos city officials, the number of Braavosi who died overnight exceeded ten thousand.

In the slums, there were many cases where entire families were frozen to death. Husbands holding their wives, wives holding their children, a family of three frozen to death in their beds.

The disaster that occurred in Braavos even surpassed the number of deaths caused by the great fire in Andalos many years ago by several times.

As Braavos experienced such a terrifying disaster, rumors began to circulate in the city amidst the active relief efforts.

Some claimed that Braavos had angered the gods, and this might be a prelude to an apocalyptic disaster.

Others claimed that it had something to do with the White Walkers across the Narrow Sea, as Braavos was geographically opposite to where the White Walkers were currently fighting.

The North of Westeros is at a higher latitude, bordering the Lands of Always Winter.

On the other hand, the northernmost city on the western coast of the continent of Essos is Braavos, and further north is the vast Shivering Sea.

However, the unprecedented snow disaster in Braavos was just a small episode for people outside the city.

Even the people of Braavos themselves were unclear about the cause, let alone others.

Viserys, who was facing the White Walkers across the Narrow Sea, rode his dragon back to White Harbor.

He then ordered the abandonment of this port city.

The Dothraki horselord commanded his khalasar to board the Iron Fleet's warships. They bypassed the Neck and landed near the Three Sisters in the Bite, surrounded by the hills of the Vale.

However, the mountain clans hid in the forests. Seeing these Dothraki, who were even more barbaric and fierce than themselves, they became as docile as babies, almost sucking on pacifiers to appear cute. Naturally, they didn't dare to disturb these lords' landing and slipped away.

But having these Dothraki was indeed a treasure for Viserys.

When Viserys left White Harbor to fly to the main battlefield on his dragon, a group of wildlings stealthily approached White Harbor, seemingly wanting to find some boats to cross the sea.

However, they were unlucky enough to encounter the idle Dothraki, and subsequently, this group of wildlings was annihilated.

It turned out that when the White Walkers swept through the North, many people who couldn

't escape through the Bay of Seals to the south were forced to stay in the North.

They hid in the dense forests, dodging the attacks of the wights, and managed to survive.

They thought the ordeal was over, but then they discovered a crucial problem.

That was, winter had enveloped the North, with heavy snow falling all day. Many trees were frozen to death, and even food was hard to find.

They dared not enter the castles stocked with food because they were filled with wights, most of whom were armed. But they found nothing in the abandoned villages.

Therefore, these wildlings decided to find boats and planned to escape by sea. That's how they stumbled upon White Harbor.

They had mustered the courage to fight the wights in White Harbor, but instead, they encountered an even more terrifying enemy.

Subsequently, these wildlings were killed, with only a few taken captive.

And these captives were the interesting part.

Viserys rode his snow-white warhorse, holding the reins in one hand, while Balerion, the black dragon, circled in the sky. A large number of Iron Fleet warships docked, and the Dothraki led their warhorses off the ships.

Among them were two large cages, which dozens of Ironborn dragged off the ship with ropes and rolling logs.

The 'monsters' caged inside roared, their hands and feet chained, but they still pounded the iron cage.

It turned out they were two giants.

Chapter 401: The Giant King

Hello everyone, translator here. Sorry again for the very late release. Real life has just been very hectic recently on top of some funkiness going on with my main two books in the translation process that took up most of my free time. I still haven't made any cuts to the amount of chapters like I said I might a couple of updates ago due to how much longer I've taken to publish updates.

I'm not sure how much longer things are going to be as unpredictable as they have been but I will strive to ensure fairly regular updates of 25 chapters as often as I can.

I also did notice that for whatever reason in my last batch the AI kept swapping "Qhogo" for "Drogo" so apologies for that. If you spot any other inconsistencies like that please put it in the comments.

I also see your frustration with the geography being totally off from the books, tv, and games but I am no where near as versed in GOT to actively edit the story as I translate it. If you've made it this far and it has grown to be too much of a pain point for you I completely understand and wish you the best on your journey to find an alternative to read and enjoy.

If a significant amount of people begin to state they are dropping between now and chapter 500 in a couple of weeks then I will once again reevaluate my continued publication of this book and take a read of the community as it stands at that time.

Thank you all for your continued support and warm wishes. your feedback is my motivation :)

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The ferocity of the giants had even the notoriously fierce Dothraki taken aback, but the nomads of the plains were no fools and naturally wouldn't keep butting heads with the giants.

The Dothraki adopted a flanking strategy. They first killed the companions of the giants, then, using their nimble tactics for hunting large game, successfully brought down these two behemoths.

They were bound tightly with iron chains and locked in cages large enough to hold elephants.

Viserys' bloodrider, Qhogo, thought these two behemoths might be useful to the Khal, so they were kept.

"Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg."

Viserys softly pronounced this name, and the giant in the cage, a mature specimen with white and grey hair, turned his head to look at Viserys coldly.

The one battering the cage was a female giant, who seemed 'smaller' compared to Mag, standing at about twelve feet, roughly 3.6 meters, also a mature giant.

Not long ago, Viserys had interrogated the captured wildlings. Fortunately, among the wildlings, there were many who were proficient in both the Old Tongue and the Common Tongue.

They knew about the giants and, in order to survive, honestly disclosed everything.

The wildlings had no 'king', nor did they have nobility or commoner classes, but they all referred to Mag as the 'Giant King' or 'Mighty Mag'.

Because he was the strongest warrior among the giants, standing at fourteen feet, over four meters, almost reaching the limit of a giant's height.

And this female giant was Mag's 'queen', named Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun, the wildlings called her 'Gentle Wun'.

However, this 'gentle' was clearly more sarcastic than actual, as Wun seemed even more volatile than her king.

The number of giants was extremely scarce and many had died or been injured in battles with humans and the Others. The wildlings didn't know if there were any other giants left.

But during their wanderings in the North, they only encountered these two giants. Perhaps all the other giants were already dead.

When he realized that they might be the last two giants in the world, Viserys' gaze towards them became unusual, as if looking at an endangered species.

And they were a male and a female.

Giants are a kind of humanoid creature, clearly not the same as humans. No wonder even the Dothraki looked at the giants with fear, because they were too large.

Viserys tried to chat with the Giant King with the help of a wildling translator, but the other party ignored him, which made Viserys feel a bit frustrated.

But when the other party saw that Viserys could ride a dragon, his eyes widened in surprise.

It seemed that he didn't expect that a weak human could control a creature even more powerful than him, which made Viserys feel very interesting.

"Hey."

"Want to make a bet? Big guy."

Gurgle—

Viserys was riding his warhorse, and the cages containing the two giants were each placed on two horse-drawn carts, pulled by several pack horses.

The dragon was circling in the sky, letting out roars, and the endless Dothraki army was slowly moving on the ground. Viserys followed beside the cart and chatted with Mag for a while.

"If you win against me, I can let you go."

"If you lose, you have to 'submit' to me."

In the Old Tongue, 'submit' is not quite the same as in the Common Tongue. It's more like 'acknowledging a big brother', just as the giants were once willing to help Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall. The constraint is not as strong as that between a king and his subjects.

He didn't chat much with 'Gentle Wun', firstly because this woman had a bad temper, and secondly because her husband was right there. Viserys wanted to avoid any misunderstandings.

But while Mag wasn't as volatile as his wife, he was a man of few words. He seemed resigned to his fate, staying in the cage without much struggle. But in Viserys' view, he hadn't given up, but was waiting for an appropriate opportunity.

Hearing the translated Old Tongue, the grey-haired Mag slowly turned his head. Compared to his huge head, his eyes weren't big, but compared to a normal person, they were still huge.

Mag's eyes were grey-black, and he looked at Viserys coldly, as if looking at a fool.

He had never heard of a human wanting to compete with him in strength. He could smash this little guy in front of him into a pulp with one punch.

But for him, this was a good opportunity to escape...

Then Mag slowly nodded his head.

"Khal."

On the other side, Qhogo, who was following him, was somewhat shocked when he heard that the Khal wanted to duel with this big guy.

But Qhogo was not afraid, and he volunteered to fight the big guy in place of Viserys.

In the rules of the Dothraki, when a Khal is challenged by someone of his own tribe, the Khal himself must fight. But there are many exceptions. If every nobody came to challenge the Khal, the Khal would be too busy.

But when the Khal is provoked by an enemy, it is the duty of the bloodrider to fight on behalf of the Khal.

Qhogo drew his Valyrian steel arakh and asked to fight, but was stopped by Viserys.

"Os."

The silver-haired young man turned his head to look at his loyal bloodrider.

He wanted to fight the giant because he was confident, but if Qhogo went up, it would really be a death sentence.

Viserys was a quick learner, mainly thanks to his nearly thirty points of mental power. He could remember many things just by paying a little attention.

Now he had mastered three languages: the Common Tongue of Westeros, High Valyrian, and Dothraki.

If he chatted a few more times with the wildling translator, he might be able to grasp some simple Old Tongue.

"Blood of my blood."

Hearing the Khal's command, Qhogo could only lower his head, put his arakh back, and stand aside.

And the Giant King, Mighty Mag, had already been let out of the cage. His heavy footsteps landed on the ground.

"Huff—"

The giant's large nostrils exhaled white breath, as he was slightly moving his muscles and bones that had been bound for many days.

And although the Dothraki around him looked at the giant with some fear - it had indeed taken a lot of effort to capture him - the moment they heard that the Khal was going to personally challenge this giant, the atmosphere instantly became heated.

"Khal!"

"Dragon-riding Khal!"

"Kill this big guy! Cut off his thing and make soup!"

The Dothraki, with their faces painted and their bodies covered in thick fur to resist the cold, all drew their arakhs from their waists, held them high in the sunlight, and let out shrill cries.

This one-on-one fight could stimulate the adrenaline of the Dothraki even more.

Chapter 402: Reclaiming the Giants

Viserys dismounted from his horse.

Clank—

The sound of his sword chain echoed. He wasn't wearing armor, but like the Dothraki warriors around him, he was simply wearing a thick fur cloak.

The Dothraki were extremely averse to wearing armor, but the North was too damn cold. The Dothraki, who had never experienced such a climate, were freezing, their faces pale and even shivering as they walked.

Fortunately, Jon Connington had foresight. As the former Hand of the King, he was very familiar with the conditions of the North.

When the royal army planned to attack the North, they had stockpiled a large amount of fur and cotton to prepare winter clothes for the soldiers going to quell the rebellion in the North.

Unfortunately, the royalist army was defeated before they even reached the North, and these stockpiled supplies became useless. They were probably looted by the Lannister army when King's Landing was breached.

Now that winter had come, the North was inevitably a hell of ice and snow.

As the Hand of the King, Jon Connington demanded that the Dothraki wear fur and armor, but he encountered strong opposition from Khal Qhogo, who claimed that this would destroy the traditions of the Dothraki, and even wanted to complain to his own Khal.

However, Jon didn't argue with Qhogo. He had anticipated this outcome.

The Dothraki refused, but he still took the time to prepare plenty of fur and asked tailors and craftsmen to make them into fur cloaks. The boiled leather armor lined the inside, and metal plates were equipped at some key parts for protection, making it an enhanced version of scale armor.

Then these warming fur armors were brought to White Harbor by ship.

Viserys knew about this, but he didn't ignore the traditions of the Dothraki and force the warriors of Khalasar to wear armor.

However, less than half a day later, Qhogo, representing his fellow Dothraki, came to the Khal himself, cautiously asking if they could wear something warmer.

The Dothraki were barbaric but not made of steel. They lived in the warm Great Grass Sea all year round. How could they have experienced such a freezing climate?

Therefore, these Dothraki warriors voluntarily put on the fur armor that Jon Connington had customized for them, and they treasured it so much that they didn't want to take it off even when they slept.

The Dothraki experienced the benefits of armor for the first time.

The cold wind of the Riverlands was biting, and although it wasn't snowing, the perceived temperature was very low.

Viserys was dressed in black, with a metal dragon head badge on his chest, a black and red cloak, a gray-white wolf skin cloak on his shoulders, the fine fur fluttering slightly in the wind, a long sword hanging at his waist, and a Valyrian steel dagger on the other side.

The Giant King, Mag, was ready, raising his huge head to look at the little guy in front of him.

And Viserys, standing in front of the giant, was equally fearless. His light purple eyes were very calm. He had seen the Night King, let alone a giant.

Then he smiled slightly and nodded.

"Come on."

Viserys spoke in the Old Tongue.

As soon as his words came out, the giant Mag was slightly stunned, seemingly not expecting that he had mastered the Old Tongue in just a few days.

But he didn't think too much about it. Now was the key opportunity for him to escape, and he roared and rushed up.

"Roar—"

The Giant King was four meters tall, almost two and a half times taller than Viserys. His huge size brought a very strong oppressive feeling.

But Viserys, who had been with the tens of meters long Balerion for years, didn't feel uncomfortable facing the giant.

Hoo~ Mag threw a punch, but it was cleverly dodged by Viserys. The punch hit the ground and stirred up dust.

"Large size, but not slow at all." Viserys was slightly surprised.

And the surrounding Dothraki formed a huge circle.

They saw their Khal face the giant without fear, and immediately raised their arakhs and cheered.

And the Giant King Mag was angry, a change from his silent and taciturn character just a short while ago. He pounded his chest in anger, and then pounced on the slippery little guy again.

However, the silver-haired youth was very agile, almost as if he was playing with the big guy in front of him, and once again dodged.

The cheers of the Dothraki became even more enthusiastic, and the wildling translator and the female giant, Gentle Wun, were almost dumbfounded. They had never imagined that Mag would be played around by a weak human one day.

The Giant King tried desperately to catch the opponent but was in vain. Then Viserys didn't draw his sword but pulled out the Valyrian steel dagger from his waist, and with a roll, he stabbed it into his knee.

Mag let out a deafening roar, knelt down on one knee, but then fiercely opened his arms and hugged Viserys.

However, he was once again dodged by the silver-haired youth with a roll on the spot, and then the dagger was once again stabbed into his lower back.

The giant's blood spilled all over the ground, and the Dothraki, seeing their Khal gaining the upper hand, killing this big guy, their howls became even more fanatical.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him!"

"Cut off his head! Skin his scalp!"

They were looking forward to a more bloody scene, to see their Khal personally hunt down a giant wildling, to show his bravery.

However, unfortunately, Viserys stepped on the shoulder of the giant Mag, and the sharp dragon steel dagger was already at the back of his neck.

With a little effort, he could kill the giant in front of him, but his hand stopped in the heavy and hurried breathing of Mag.

"You lost, Mag."

The silver-haired youth spoke to the Giant King in the Old Tongue.

Thud—

Then Viserys put the dagger back into the sheath and jumped down from Mag's shoulder.

This giant was too tall, so much so that even when he was kneeling, Viserys couldn't reach his throat.

And Mag, seeing that Viserys didn't kill him, his heavy breathing relaxed a bit. Viserys jumped off him, and he clenched his fist as if he wanted to take this opportunity to punch the person in front of him.

However... in the end, Mag let go of his fist.

"I lost, human."

Mag, with blood flowing from his body, his voice low like a muffled thunder, then shakily stood up from the ground.

But he didn't stand firm and once again knelt on one knee, slightly lowering his head to Viserys, indicating submission.

In the year 283 AC.

The mighty Dothraki army arrived at the battlefield, allowing the allied soldiers to see the terrifying barbarian tribe for the first time.

And the White Walkers, after resting for a while, once again emerged from the Neck.

Chapter 403: The Defense Line of the Twins

The specter of the White Walkers reappeared south of the Neck, and the human alliance stationed at the Twins was busily fortifying their defenses.

With the support of House Targaryen and the presence of dragons, the human resolve to stand against the White Walkers had grown even stronger. It was as if they saw a glimmer of hope, and even their labor seemed invigorated.

"Over here!"

"Bring that log!"

Soldiers clad in various armors bearing their family crests were working fervently. The clanging of tools filled the air, creating a bustling scene.

They were reinforcing the defenses of the Twins, determined to halt the White Walkers here.

"Hey!"

"Thanks, brother."

A soldier clad in Northern fur armor patted a Lannister soldier, who was wearing black and gold armor with a red cloak.

"No problem."

The Lannister soldier gave a small smile, and the two nodded at each other before continuing their work.

At that moment...

"Open the gates!"

The wooden chevaux de frise at the gate was moved aside.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

Several knights galloped into the construction site of the Twins. Leading them was a young man dressed in a grey-white wolf skin cloak, black clothes, a black and red cloak, with a long sword hanging from his waist, riding a snow-white warhorse.

Beside him were several Dothraki warriors clad in animal skin armor and cloaks.

They strode in as if they owned the place, and the soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms' alliance, seeing the newcomers, paused their work, looking at each other uncertainly, unsure of what to do.

Fortunately, there was a noble general supervising the construction of the defenses.

The commander of the Vale forces, 'Bronze Yohn' Yohn Royce, the Earl of Runestone.

He was still wearing his ancestral heavy bronze armor, said to be thousands of years old and engraved with magical runes that protected the wearer from harm.

"Your Grace."

Yohn Royce, with his grey hair and beard, grey eyes, and thick eyebrows, spurred his horse to meet the newcomers. His voice was deep and powerful.

The alliance had not dwelled too much on the issue of titles. After all, they were facing a battle between the living and the dead. If they were to quibble over such matters at this time, humanity's extinction would not be far off.

The alliance referred to both Viserys and Robert as 'king' to avoid exacerbating tensions and to facilitate cooperation.

"Earl Royce."

Viserys, sitting on his horse, pulled on the reins and gave the man a nod.

Swish...

Viserys dismounted, followed by his Dothraki guards.

Although they were deep in enemy territory, the Dothraki showed no fear.

Their fierce eyes coldly surveyed the surrounding alliance soldiers, one hand on the hilt of their arakhs, ready to protect their Khal.

Earl Royce gave a slight nod, and a soldier of the alliance nervously came forward to take the reins of their horses.

Then, the old general Yohn Royce also dismounted, raised his hand in a 'please' gesture, and said in a low, respectful voice.

"Your Grace, please."

"King Robert and the other lords have been waiting for you for some time."

The face of Yohn Royce bore a hint of sorrow, as the news of the assassination of his liege, Jon Arryn, had recently arrived. King Robert was furious and even wanted to return with his troops, but was strongly dissuaded by everyone.

Everyone knew there was something fishy about it. Jon couldn't possibly have died at the hands of the mob as reported.

However, at this critical time, they had no way to return to King's Landing to investigate.

If the morale of the alliance were to break, which of the houses could withstand the onslaught of the White Walkers?

The Riverlands and the Crownlands would likely be the first to fall, followed by the Westerlands, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands. The Vale, although easily defended, would ultimately be unable to resist the onslaught of the army of the dead. Once the Vale fell, it would be Dorne's turn.

The rule of the houses over Westeros would end, history would be buried in dust, and there would be no more lions, no more hawks, and no more direwolves.

So, although they mourned Jon Arryn's death, everyone understood what was more important at the moment.

Death is as final as a snuffed candle.

Jon, while alive, could unite the four major families as the core of the alliance, but dead, he had no value. The living still needed to unite to confront the more important enemy at hand, and the challenge that would soon engulf the Seven Kingdoms.

After the Dothraki army arrived at the Twins and set up their camp not far from the alliance camp, Robert invited Viserys to discuss the battle plan.

And Viserys, far from being timid, boldly brought a few guards to the meeting.

The possibility of a Red Wedding was not absent, and everyone admired Viserys's courage in going alone to the meeting.

However, what they didn't know was that Viserys was confident that he could kill everyone in the room before they could kill him.

He could do it alone.

Clip-clop...

The footsteps of the group echoed in the corridor, and they were soon to reach the council chamber of the Twins.

However, at that moment, Yohn Royce, who had been silent for a long time, suddenly spoke.

"These barbarians are indeed fierce, skilled in archery and horsemanship, and killing is as natural to them as eating."

He stopped outside the door, turning to look at Viserys.

"But Your Grace... Are you really planning to conquer the Seven Kingdoms with these savages?"

Chapter 404: Pre-Battle Meeting

The robust Earl of Runestone stood outside the council chamber of the Twins, then turned his head and asked in a low voice.

The room was filled with nobles and lords, but this question had been on Yohn Royce's mind for a long time, and he couldn't help but ask it now.

After all, not everyone had the opportunity to speak face-to-face with the young Dragon King.

The Dothraki guards standing next to Viserys looked at their Khal with confusion.

They couldn't understand what the armored man in front of them was saying. It seemed like he was mentioning them, but it didn't seem like he had any hostility.

Viserys, hearing Yohn Royce's words, also stopped in his tracks, looking at the old general in front of him clad in bronze armor.

The general met Viserys's gaze without backing down, but then, for some reason, he felt a sense of palpitation and slightly lowered his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Lord Yohn Royce, my territory is twice as large as the Vale, with countless people and soldiers."

"Just as the Mountain Clans nominally serve Lord Robert Arryn, the Dothraki are my subjects, and they are willing to call me their Dragon Khal."

Viserys looked at the Earl of Runestone, who had slightly lowered his head, and then spoke calmly.

In fact, in the Dothraki language, the term for Viserys was simply the word for 'giant dragon' plus the noun 'Khal', which could be translated as Dragon Khal or True Dragon Khal, or simply Dragon Khal.

Viserys then nodded at Lord Royce and pushed open the door to enter directly.

Several Dothraki guards, holding their arakhs, looked at Yohn Royce, whose face was slightly pale but who remained silent, and then followed their Khal into the council chamber of the Twins.

As Viserys suddenly entered, the room, which had been in heated discussion about tactics, fell silent. The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

After a moment of silence...

"Welcome, Your Grace."

Tywin Lannister, the Duke of Casterly Rock, with his green eyes fixed on Viserys, was the first to break the silence.

He raised his hand to clap, then said, "Welcome, Your Grace."

"Welcome, Your Grace."

Then, scattered applause and welcoming voices echoed in the council room. Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell, also spoke.

However, Stannis, the commander of the Riverlands, Edmure Tully, and King Robert, who was sitting in the middle of the sand table, remained silent.

Facing the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, Viserys seemed very calm, his light purple eyes sweeping over everyone present.

Every face had a different expression, and the looks they gave him were different too. There was awe, fear, curiosity, and hostility.

Among them were Eddard Stark, Stannis, Tywin Lannister, Edmure Tully, Hoster Tully, and others...

Viserys might not recognize their faces, as many of them were meeting for the first time.

But Viserys, as a child, was taught by Maester Daniel of Dragonstone. His first task was to remember the names, sigils, and mottos of the major families in Westeros.

He could identify their identities just by looking at the sigils on their chests.

Finally, King Robert, with his full beard, looked at Viserys and spoke in a low voice.

"Welcome, Viserys."

There was an empty chair next to him, clearly prepared for Viserys.

The highest commander of the alliance was Robert, and now that Viserys had arrived, there was no way to rank them.

The alliance had many soldiers and nobles, and Viserys had dragons and Dothraki, so naturally, they sat on an equal footing.

"Please, sit."

Robert invited Viserys to sit, and Viserys, without being pretentious, looked around and then sat directly next to Robert.

Several Dothraki guards, including his bloodrider Qhogo, followed Viserys, holding their arakhs, their eyes fierce.

These men were all skilled warriors in the tribe. If a fight broke out in the room, perhaps without Viserys's intervention, the Dothraki could make them pay a heavy price.

"Continue."

The silver-haired young man sat at the head of the table and nodded slightly, speaking for the first time.

Robert also nodded and looked at Selwyn Tarth, the Lord of Evenfall Hall, who had just been speaking.

The Lord was one of the commanders of the Stormlands. Selwyn Tarth hesitated for a moment and then continued.

"Both Your Graces and lords."

"Past battles have told us that we cannot win by confronting them head-on."

"Their numbers are too many, beyond our imagination, and they do not know fatigue, they never stop."

Lord Tarth suggested defending the river. The Night King could freeze the river, and dragons and oil could melt the ice. The wights had no long-range weapons, and the human army had all kinds of bows and catapults, and several scorpions had been built.

This was the only solution. Many generals in the alliance nodded slightly, approving Lord Tarth's proposal, mainly because the White Walkers were too difficult to deal with, and they couldn't think of any better tactics.

"Dragonglass can kill White Walkers, I think you all know that."

At this time, Viserys, who was sitting side by side with Robert, suddenly spoke.

All eyes in the room instantly turned to him.

"Yes, young Viserys..."

"But... there's too little dragonglass."

At this time, a trembling voice came from a corner.

A white-haired old man was hunched over in a chair, his blind white eyes speaking.

Except for the king, who had a seat, even the dukes had to stand, so Viserys didn't see this little old man hidden behind the crowd at first.

"You..."

But now, hearing his voice, Viserys was slightly taken aback, and was about to stand up from his chair, but was stopped by Maester Aemon.

"Young Viserys... the pre-battle meeting is important, we can chat separately later."

Maester Aemon's voice was shaky, and Viserys, hearing his words, slowly sat down again.

The nobles in the room looked at each other, all seeing the shock in each other's eyes.

"Who is he?"

This old man often appeared in the war meetings but rarely spoke. Some of them knew he was a maester of the Night's Watch, and some didn't even know who he was, not knowing his name or identity.

But who would have thought that this old man could call the young Dragon King 'young Viserys'?

And he... didn't seem angry at all, but rather respectful?

Chapter 405: Assigning Duties

The nobles in the alliance's meeting room murmured amongst themselves, speculating about the identity of the elderly man.

Why was he so influential?

Among those present, it seemed that only Eddard Stark truly knew the identity of Maester Aemon.

"Dragonstone has a large amount of dragonglass," Viserys said, regaining his composure and settling back into his seat.

He hadn't received a letter from the old man in a long time. The last letter from Maester Aemon had arrived before the Battle of the Wall. After that, the Night's Watch had blown the Horn of Winter, collapsing the Wall and allowing the wildlings to flee into the Seven Kingdoms. Then the army of the dead had arrived, and the human alliance had suffered defeats at the Wall, Winterfell, and Cailin Bay, losing the entire North and retreating to the Twins.

Viserys hadn't received any letters from Aemon since then and had assumed that the old man had died in the ensuing chaos. After all, in such a tumultuous time, it would be incredibly difficult for a nearly hundred-year-old blind man to survive.

Viserys was taken aback to find that Aemon was still alive, but he quickly regained his composure.

Meanwhile, Stannis Baratheon, upon hearing Viserys' claim about Dragonstone, furrowed his brow and looked at the young silver-haired man. "Your Grace claims that Dragonstone has a large amount of dragonglass? I was not aware of this."

Viserys turned to look at him. He didn't recognize Stannis by face, but the man's stern demeanor, thinning hair, and the crowned stag on his chest made it clear who he was. "You must be Stannis," Viserys said, looking at him with interest. Stannis gave a curt nod in response.

Viserys shook his head and chuckled. "The Targaryens know Dragonstone better than you might think."

Dragonstone was the ancestral home of House Targaryen, and Viserys naturally knew it better than Stannis. However, he didn't elaborate on how he knew about the abundant dragonglass mines beneath Dragonstone, merely implying that it was due to his Targaryen heritage.

"But there's no need to worry," Viserys continued. "I've already arranged for workers to mine the dragonglass day and night. I believe the first batch will be delivered to the front lines soon, and then we'll have weapons to fight the White Walkers."

All eyes in the room turned to him.

"Yes, Viserys..." a shaky voice began, but trailed off. "However... there's not enough dragonglass."

The voice came from a frail old man with white hair and blind eyes, huddled in a chair.

Viserys hadn't noticed him at first, as even the dukes had to stand in the presence of the king, but upon hearing his voice, he recognized him. He started to rise from his chair, but Maester Aemon stopped him.

"Viserys... the war council is important. We can talk later."

Aemon's voice was shaky, and Viserys sat back down upon hearing his words. The nobles in the room looked at each other, shock evident in their eyes.

"Who is he?"

Some of them knew that he was a maester of the Night's Watch, but others had no idea who he was. They were all surprised that he could address the young dragon lord as 'Viserys' and that Viserys seemed to respect him.

Chapter 406: Escape from Death

Khal Qhogo spoke a few sentences in Dothraki, his gaze cold and indifferent.

Eddard Stark didn't understand, but he had no complaints after observing the other man's demeanor. The man with dark brown hair gave a slight nod.

"Very well."

After all, he had heard of the Dothraki people, a nation of horse riders, each one an expert cavalryman. Thus, he also nodded in agreement.

With this, all the main military leaders of the allied forces had been assigned.

Viserys, however, held a unique position within the ranks, even more important than everyone else. He was to control the dragon to burn the army of the dead, even facing the threat of the Night King alone. In name, he was the commander of the entire army, just like Robert.

Soon after the meeting was disbanded, Viserys, accompanied by his guards, mounted his warhorse and left the Twins, returning to the Dothraki camp.

However, he took someone from the Twins with him - the old ancestor of House Targaryen, Maester Aemon.

Maester Aemon was so old that all the people of his generation had long since died. He was a man from 200 years ago in the reign of Aegon.

He had become the only old ship in the new era, holding his vows at the desperate Wall, with no family, no friends, only facing the vast snow beyond the Wall.

Now, after all the hardships, he finally met one of his few relatives in this world, but it was a relative three generations removed, the great-grandson of his brother Aegon.

"You look a lot like Aegon... Your bloodline is very pure, I can feel the power of blood and fire from you..."

With his white, blind eyes, Maester Aemon touched the contours of Viserys' cheek, roughly knowing what his great-nephew looked like.

Aegon V was Aemon's younger brother, with long silver hair, a tall figure, and a very handsome face. It was rumored that he was born with the temperament of a king, which even led his sisters to use love potions to compete for him.

Then, Maester Aemon began to speak, his voice trembling.

"Young Viserys, have you married your wife yet?"

Viserys naturally knew that the 'Aegon' in his great-uncle's mouth was Aegon V, his great-grandfather, not the small Aegon whose identity was yet to be confirmed. He nodded and replied.

"Not yet married, Great-Uncle."

"But there is already a betrothal, the princess of Dorne is my fiancée."

"The Princess of Dorne? Is the betrothal due to the alliance?"

The old man sat quietly in his chair, listening to Viserys speak, then asked.

Viserys paused slightly, then nodded.

"Yes."

Then he saw the white-haired old man in front of him, his mouth devoid of teeth, let out a hoarse but hearty laugh, and then said.

"You're doing the right thing, young Viserys..."

"When you inherit the throne, you must kill the boy inside you..."

"Remember, kill the boy inside you. You need to marry a wife of suitable status, not a wife you love or who loves you."

"However, to maintain the stability of the kingdom, our family's marriage alliance with Dorne is also an old tradition."

The Targaryen family and the Martell family of Dorne were originally sworn enemies, but unexpectedly, they became deeply rooted allies over time.

The reason lies in the frequent marriages between the two families. Almost every few generations of kings, there is a queen from Dorne.

"My grandfather was Daeron II, and my grandmother was Princess Myriah Martell of Dorne. My mother also came from Dorne, she was Diana Dayne of the Dayne family, and she married my father Maekar."

Maester Aemon's voice was trembling, and he even had some difficulty speaking, occasionally needing to stop to catch his breath.

However, the old man still kept talking, as if he had a lot to say, and Viserys patiently listened to the end, learning a lot of wisdom.

Afterwards, Viserys wanted to send Maester Aemon to Pentos by boat, but the old man insisted on staying on the battlefield, holding his Night's Watch vows.

...

The allied forces were actively preparing to face the next attack of the White Walkers.

And to the north of the Neck, the vast land already occupied by the army of the dead was filled with white snow, desolate and silent.

A small figure, with heavy chains on his hands and feet, had a disproportionately large head, a protruding forehead with dark red scabs, an ugly face, one green eye and one black, and a head of golden hair with a messy beard.

He was Tyrion Lannister, who had escaped death in the cellar of Casterly Bay.

The explosion of wildfire had a wide range, but Tyrion, hiding underground, was spared.

The shock wave of the explosion destroyed the walls of the cellar, giving him his freedom again, but the chains on his hands and feet were still unbroken.

Tyrion was buried under the rubble for an unknown amount of time. The Night King was unharmed in the explosion of wildfire, and then continued to move south. The army of the dead followed, allowing Tyrion to escape death once again.

When Tyrion woke up, he crawled out of the rubble with great difficulty, his hands covered in blood, and then began to wander aimlessly in the North, which had become a land of the dead, dragging his heavy chains.

He hoped to encounter anyone he could communicate with, but unfortunately, he didn't. However, Tyrion was also lucky enough not to encounter any stray wights.

During this time, Tyrion survived by gnawing on tree bark, plants, frozen corpses, anything edible, he was willing to struggle to survive.

However, on this day.

Tyrion, who was at the physical and mental limit, accidentally fell into a trap. But when he fell, his first thought was not fear, but ecstasy, pure ecstasy, and then he passed out.

"Judging from the family crest on him, he might be Tyrion Lannister, the second son of Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West."

Benjen Stark weighed the golden lion badge taken from Tyrion in his hand, then said.

"He's the Imp?"

Sir Elyas Sorn looked at the ugly dwarf on the ground and spat. He thought it was game at first, but it turned out to be the Imp.

"Good thing you reacted quickly, or I would have thought he was a wight and chopped him up."

"Should we take him with us?"

On the other side, 'Raven' Yoren hesitated and asked. Dealing with a great noble was not a simple matter, and if not handled well, it could cause trouble.

"Of course! My brother!"

"Wherever you want to go, please take me with you."

"You know, 'A Lannister always pays his debts', and I am a Lannister."

"My father is the Duke of Casterly Rock. Do you like gold? Beauties, castles?

As long as you save me, you can have anything you want."

At this time, Tyrion, who had quietly woken up on the ground, had been eavesdropping on their conversation for a long time.

Only after confirming that they were not dangerous did he suddenly open his eyes and speak.

A person who had fainted suddenly speaking, and saying a lot at that, as if he hadn't spoken for a long time, startled everyone present.

Benjen hesitated for a moment, then said.

"We were also saved by someone, and we were entrusted by someone to find Viserys."

"There's someone who wants to see him."

Chapter 407: The First Battle of the Allied Forces

Year 293 AC.

Since the retreat of the White Walkers on New Year's Day of 293 AC, a group of Dothraki horsemen were the first to engage in battle with the White Walkers who were gradually emerging from the Neck in the new year.

"Yahhh—"

The Dothraki, riding on horseback, let out a screech that was even more piercing than the wights'. They then scattered barrels of oil from their horses onto the ground and threw torches to ignite the oil, successfully disrupting the formation of the army of the dead.

Thud, thud, thud—

Then, a volley of arrows pierced through the sea of fire and fell into the army of the dead, cutting down countless wights like wheat.

The army of the dead was different from humans, as Viserys had told Khal Qhogo not to use tactics meant for humans.

Humans fear and dread, and often a less elite force would be demoralized by a single charge from the Dothraki, leading to chaos and then being mercilessly harvested by the Dothraki.

But wights were different. Wights knew neither fatigue nor fear. A head-on collision with wights was undoubtedly a suicidal act. Even if the cavalry relied on their sturdy armor, they would be wiped out if they charged in.

Therefore, the Dothraki adopted a more flexible and changeable approach when dealing with wights.

They used the hunting tactics they would only use during hunts, constantly driving and luring the army of wights. After all, wights only had two legs and couldn't run as fast as horses, and they didn't use bows and arrows.

Then they used oil to set traps to lure these brainless wights, set them on fire, and burned them to ashes, just like how the Dothraki would drive and lure beasts into traps when hunting on the plains.

Whoosh~

A huge fire ignited in an instant.

The Dothraki, riding on horseback, held the reins in one hand and raised their arakhs high in the other under the bright sunlight.

They let out sharp howls like wolves, watching as the wights fell into the sea of fire, their gray-brown fur fluttering slightly in the cold wind.

After an unknown amount of time, the fire burned out, leaving the ground charred and only a little flame left.

Then, facing the last few wights that they had surrounded and reduced to a small number, the Dothraki gave up their bows and arrows and chose to charge in one fell swoop.

"Ohharat!"

Khal Qhogo, clad in a fur armor, gave the order to charge in Dothraki, intending to crush these wights. The Dothraki were in high spirits.

Rumble, rumble—

Then, accompanied by the thunderous sound of horse hooves, dust and snow flew up.

Clang, clang, clang—

Countless arakhs were drawn and raised high, reflecting a chilling light in the sunlight, then they fell lightly, directly cutting off the heads of the wights.

And they trampled their bodies into pieces with their horse hooves. The arakhs harvested heads, the horse hooves caused chaos, and the remaining hundreds of wights were all trampled into powder by the chaotic iron hooves.

Among the wights, the leader was a White Walker with white hair and beard.

He was tall, clad in ice-blue armor, wielding an ice sword, and had killed several Dothraki horsemen. A rusted sigil of the Stark direwolf was pinned to his chest.

Looking at the humans charging again, his deep blue eyes were terrifying, and he let out a screeching roar like ice cracking.

"Screech—"

Then he was killed by Khal Qhogo's skillful horseback move.

He tightly clamped his legs around the horse's belly and then suddenly leaned out. From a distance, it looked like he was about to fall to the ground, but his legs were still tightly clamping the horse's belly, preventing him from falling.

"Ogat!"

Khal Qhogo dodged the White Walker's sword with this move, roared in Dothraki for him to die, and then swung his sword backhand directly at the White Walker's neck.

Boom—

The Valyrian steel arakh directly cut into the White Walker's neck. The creature didn't even let out a scream before its body exploded, scattering into a sky full of ice shards.

Clang—

The direwolf sigil on his chest also fell to the ground.

Seeing Khal Qhogo kill the White Walker with his ancestral Valyrian steel arakh, the watching Dothraki let out cheers, stirring up the atmosphere.

They worship the strong.

Although Khal Qhogo was the bloodrider appointed by Khal, the tribesmen he could command were not due to Viserys' arrangement, but because his strength was recognized by the tribesmen.

Kill the fiercest man, ride the fiercest horse.

The Khal rode the most powerful horse in the tribe, Viserys rode a dragon, naturally no one could compete, and Khal Qhogo's horse was second only to Viserys' in the tribe.

Of course, this is not counting Khaleesi.

Because of the war years ago, Daenerys, riding Qhogon, burned the Dothraki, which scared them. Therefore, the Dothraki who later surrendered to Viserys recognized Daenerys as their Khaleesi.

After killing the White Walker, Khal Qhogo sat on his horse, his chest heaving slightly as he panted.

But he held the arakh in one hand and then spread his arms, exposing his strong chest without any defense.

Khal Qhogo showed his bravery to the surrounding tribesmen and listened to their cheers and worship.

At the same time, Khal Qhogo also roared in the obscure Dothraki language, which brought even louder cheers.

"Roar, roar, roar!"

All the Dothraki raised their arakhs and let out deafening howls.

It was like a wild dance of demons.

But this was the most real living environment for the Dothraki, a nomadic tribe that did not produce and specialized in plundering. Their life theme was nothing but killing and copulating.

The Dothraki were holding a victory celebration, but Eddard Stark and Stannis, who were not far away, felt a bit of a chill.

The two turned their heads and looked at each other.

"These barbarians... are too terrifying."

"I have no doubt that killing us would be just a simple post-meal exercise for these savages."

Eddard frowned, his tone somewhat heavy.

Stannis's face was equally gloomy, but he remained silent.

He had already figured it out. If the Targaryens wanted to invade Westeros, the first stop would definitely be Dragonstone.

Losing it sooner or later was still a loss. Thinking about it this way, he felt a lot better.

And Khal Qhogo was their leader, which was the basis for their cooperation and also political. Khal Qhogo accepted this appointment on behalf of Viserys. The two needed to lead the cavalry of the Seven Kingdoms to fight alongside the Dothraki.

Today, they detected a small-scale army of the dead, so the two brought their guards to learn and observe. They didn

't expect to see such a terrifying scene.

The Dothraki annihilated this small-scale army of the dead with minimal losses.

Each of them was so skilled in horsemanship that they were among the best in the allied cavalry.

At this time.

Khal Qhogo rode his horse over with a translator, said a few words in Dothraki, which were then translated into the Common Tongue. Eddard nodded in response.

It was probably asking if they understood the Dothraki's tactics.

"This, for you."

After getting an affirmative answer, Khal Qhogo also nodded slightly.

Then he took out the Stark direwolf sigil that had fallen from the White Walker just now and threw it to Eddard.

"I see it's similar to the thing on your chest, it might be of some use to you."

Thud—

Eddard reached out and caught the sigil thrown at him from mid-air.

He was a bit puzzled at first, but his face changed drastically when he opened his palm.

Chapter 408: The Revelation of the Lord of Light

The Dothraki's total annihilation of a legion of the dead had boosted the morale of the allied forces.

However, by the time they returned, it was already nightfall, and darkness had completely enveloped the sky.

In the Dothraki camp, dots of firelight illuminated the area. Most of the soldiers had already retired for the night, with only a few standing guard.

A flock of crows flew across the sky.

Flap, flap—

They then landed on the top of a massive tent in the camp, tilted their heads slightly, and let out a caw.

These sounds breathed life and vitality into the world. The North had become a realm of death, and due to the cold climate, even animals and birds had died or been severely injured, naturally causing these lively sounds to disappear.

Now, human soldiers were fighting here so that their homelands would not become like the North, and their wives, children, and elders would not turn into wights.

The tent where the crows had landed was the dwelling of the Khal in the camp, a magnificent golden-top tent.

Most of the camp had already plunged into darkness, except for this place, which was still brightly lit. This was because Viserys had not yet gone to rest. There was still work to be done, and staying up late had become the norm.

At this moment.

Two Dothraki guards, holding torches high, led a woman dressed in a thin red robe into the tent from outside.

"Khal."

"This woman says she's your friend."

The guard in the camp spoke in Dothraki.

"Hmm?"

Sitting in the tent, Viserys, who was writing something at the table, slightly raised his head.

He was taken aback when he saw this red-robed woman he hadn't seen in a long time. He then nodded to the two Dothraki guards and spoke in fluent Dothraki.

"Yes, she is my friend."

"You may leave."

Hearing the Khal's words, the two Dothraki guards bowed slightly without saying much.

They then lifted the tent curtain and left.

The visitor was Melisandre, who had been missing for a long time.

However, Viserys did not think that this mysterious woman had died on the battlefield.

Her name was gradually spreading throughout the Seven Kingdoms, mainly among the common people.

Melisandre had followed millions of Northmen refugees into the South. Millions of people were displaced and impoverished due to the attack of the White Walkers. It was a time when they were helpless.

Their once firm faith had collapsed, as their gods had not played any role in the attack of the White Walkers, let alone brought a ray of hope.

Melisandre took this opportunity to quietly propagate the faith of the Lord of Light, R'hllor.

The faith of the Red God had not been very prominent in Westeros for many years, with most areas of the Seven Kingdoms firmly believing in the Seven.

The North mainly believed in the Old Gods, the Iron Islands in the Drowned God, and Dorne in both the Seven and nature spirits.

However, now.

The faith of R'hllor finally had an opportunity and began to appear on a large scale in Westeros.

Melisandre, on a white horse, in a red robe, constantly preached the faith of the Red God to people in this desperate time.

She told people that in such a crisis, only by following the true king and believing in R'hllor could they save their lives.

Darkness and light, cold and heat, life and death.

R'hllor is the archenemy of the Cold God. The more followers of R'hllor, the stronger the power of the god to fight against the Cold God.

Because of this, relying on the powerful force and mobility of millions of Northmen refugees, Melisandre's name gradually spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms, reaching the ears of some major nobles, and even Cersei, who was now the Queen Regent, had heard of Melisandre's name.

Cersei wanted to invite her into the Red Keep to meet, to see if there was anything that could be used, whether this red-robed witch was really as capable of prophecy and omnipotent as the rumors said.

However, unfortunately, Melisandre did not accept Cersei's invitation.

Instead, she disappeared from King's Landing that day, and even the gold cloaks searching the city could not find her trace.

Clearly, King's Landing was no longer impregnable. There were followers of R'hllor who helped Melisandre escape from King's Landing, and then Melisandre appeared voluntarily in Viserys's camp.

Viserys had thought that Melisandre might take advantage of this power to comfortably become a 'High Priestess', or seize the opportunity to challenge the High Priest of the Red Temple in Volantis.

Known as the 'Flame of Truth', 'Light of Wisdom', and 'First Servant of the Lord of Light', Benerro.

However, he did not expect that after gaining such powerful power, she would come back.

"Your Grace."

"It's been a long time."

In the golden-top tent, it was soon left with only Viserys and Melisandre. The red-haired witch slightly curtsied, her red skirt spread on the ground.

She then slowly stood up and walked to Viserys's side.

Melisandre still had that captivating look. Her eyes fell on Viserys.

Viserys's brows slightly relaxed, and then he put away what he was just writing on the table.

"Indeed, it's been a long time."

"Melisandre."

The light in the tent was dim, and the red-robed woman's figure slightly swayed with the flames in the fire basin, casting shadows on the tent.

"Why did you come back now? Have you found the answer you were looking for?"

The red-robed witch stood next to Viserys, looking at the decorations in the golden-top tent.

Clearly, it was filled with Dothraki-style decorations, horsehair, curved knives, bows and arrows, and an exaggeratedly large bed.

For this nation, a Khal indeed needed a large bed.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I came for that."

Then Melisandre, hearing Viserys's words, turned her head. The casual expression on her face disappeared a lot and became serious instead.

"I received a revelation from the Lord of Light, and I must tell you."

"A prophecy?"

Hearing Melisandre's words, Viserys's eyebrows slightly raised.

"What prophecy?"

He knew that Melisandre was proficient in prophecy. She had seen the process of him roasting dragon eggs through prophecy and then traveled a long distance to come here.

"About the White Walkers."

Melisandre said with a serious face.

However, she couldn't explain it too clearly. Viserys had to perceive the revelation of the true god himself.

Then the red-robed witch helped Viserys stand up from the cushion on the ground and came to the blazing bonfire.

"Your Grace, please look at this flame."

Viserys frowned slightly, then his eyes fell on the dancing flame.

In an instant, in the light reflected in his pupils, he saw a sky full of red light above his head.

And the darkness in the distance was gradually invading like an eternal night.

Chapter 409: The Perspective of the Gods

The following morning.

The sky was more overcast than it had been in recent days. With the approach of the White Walkers, the cold once again enveloped the vicinity of the Twins.

Thud, thud...

The Dothraki camp was bustling once again. The sound of horse hooves echoed continuously, and people were shouting in the harsh Dothraki language.

Soon, smoke from cooking fires began to rise.

"Khal."

"Khal."

The number of people coming and going from the Khal's tent increased, but few knew what had transpired the previous night.

This included the arrival of the red-robed witch and her silent conversation with Viserys about her faith in the Lord of Light.

"Even so, I still find it difficult to understand what the Lord of Light wants to tell me."

After a night's rest.

Viserys, who had gotten up early in the morning and dealt with some official duties, was wearing a loose robe. His silver-gold hair was not tied up but freely spread out.

He glanced at Melisandre, who was still dressed in a red robe.

She had returned from her travels in Westeros and had since stayed in the army. The witch still wore that dazzling red gemstone necklace on her chest and was now sitting quietly on a cushion at the table.

Her coppery hair was braided and hung down her chest. She seemed more energetic than the day before, and her red eyes seemed to flicker with flames.

"Can you tell me exactly what you saw in the revelation of the Lord of Light yesterday?"

Melisandre's expression was calm as she slightly raised her delicate chin and asked.

"Perhaps I can help you."

Melisandre was also curious about what Viserys had seen after staring at the fire for so long yesterday.

But it was too late yesterday to ask in detail. Today, she had time, and she also had her own curiosity.

Viserys hesitated slightly, then nodded.

"Yes."

Melisandre was a follower of the Lord of Light, R'hllor. There was nothing to hide from her about the Lord of Light, especially since she needed her to provide some explanations.

He then detailed what he had seen when he looked into the fire yesterday.

Simply put, what he saw in the flames was like a slightly abstract dream. He saw a sky full of red light rising, and in the distance was a deep, unfathomable darkness.

Everything around was enveloped in these two lights, intertwined and indistinguishable. Underneath it all, many insignificant details caught Viserys's attention, all of which he told Melisandre.

After Viserys had explained everything in detail, Melisandre fell into thought. The room became silent, with only the crackling sound of the fire.

"Is that so?"

Melisandre's red gemstone reflected the firelight. She was silent for a while before speaking again.

"The red light may represent the divine power of R'hllor, and the darkness represents the Cold God."

"Your Grace, what you saw may be the battle between the Lord of Light and the Other."

Melisandre gave a simple analysis of Viserys's dream. She judged that the Lord of Light intended to let Viserys see the scene of the divine battle through His eyes.

The current power comparison between the two sides is reflected on the human battlefield. Humans have retreated to the Twins, and the influence of the Lord of Light's divine power has also retreated here.

The profound darkness that Viserys saw in the north might be the North, which is now completely swallowed by the cold.

However, what the gods see and what mortals see are completely different. In the eyes of R'hllor, it is just a world filled with monotonous colors.

"Melisandre, are you saying... I experienced the perspective of R'hllor in the flames?"

Upon hearing Melisandre's analysis, Viserys couldn't help but frown and ask.

"In the eyes of the gods, is the whole world divided by various divine powers?"

"What are we then?"

"Damned pawns?"

"Are we playing a proxy war game on behalf of the gods?"

The entire world is the battlefield of the gods. The clash between the gods is not as terrifying as imagined, but rather like a breeze, a silent battle.

The battlefield is their chessboard, and the pieces are the creatures of the world. The gods, as chess players, control the life and death of mortals, and the outcome of mortals indirectly affects the outcome of the gods.

If this is the case...

Then the gods of this world don't seem as terrifying as Viserys imagined.

Melisandre's expression also became slightly serious, but she shook her head, unable to give Viserys an explanation.

"We must not speak ill of the gods, Your Grace."

What are the gods, how do they operate the whole world, do they have human-like emotions... these can't be comprehended by their shallow understanding.

Melisandre has spent her whole life pondering what the true Lord has revealed to her.

That's why what happened last night happened. The Lord of Light gave her a revelation, and she traveled a long way from King's Landing to the front line to find Viserys.

Then Melisandre continued to try to explain the dream Viserys saw last night.

What Viserys saw yesterday from the perspective of R'hllor was a world where the divine power of R'hllor was strong and seemed to be at its peak when he looked south.

But when he looked north, the profound silver darkness seemed to be running out of strength, but the skinny camel was still bigger than the horse.

This is the battlefield of the gods.

The Lord of Light, R'hllor, seemed to want to tell Viserys that the divine power of the Other was insufficient and running out.

Perhaps this was also the reason why Viserys had a brief confrontation with the Night King when he descended on a dragon last time, and then the Night King ordered a retreat.

"I too have received a revelation from the Lord of Light..."

At this moment, Melisandre suddenly spoke with a complex expression. She looked at Viserys and continued.

"The Lord of Light asked me to come to Westeros to investigate the truth of the resurrection of the White Walkers."

Viserys nodded slightly when he heard Melisandre's words.

At that time, Melisandre had asked for his leave to go to Westeros alone.

It turned out to be a revelation from the Lord of Light.

"Later, I came to Westeros, to the icy North, to the Wall. The true Lord told me again that the Other should not have resurrected at this time."

"He came too early."

"He came too early?"

Melisandre's words were very calm, but they caused a stir in Viserys's ears.

The young man with silver hair frowned and even repeated the sentence.

Because he knew that the White Walkers should not have resurrected at this time.

The whole world was accelerating because of him.

Chapter 410: Lack of Divine Power

"Yes, Your Grace, the Lord of Light told me that the Others should not have awakened at this time."

Melisandre looked at Viserys' reaction with some surprise but reiterated her point.

"Perhaps the premature awakening of the Others, coupled with the lack of effective resistance from mankind, and the rapid advance of the army of the dead... these are all reasons leading to the Others' lack of divine power."

The Night King had indeed slowed his pace, but he had still advanced too quickly, overextending himself and burdening his own forces. He probably hadn't expected that this world already had the existence of dragons, and that they would personally intervene.

The last time he had been active was thousands of years ago, and it was unclear whether dragons existed in this world at that time. Perhaps they were still around the Fourteen Flames of Valyria, or perhaps they weren't creatures of this world at all, but at least they hadn't appeared in his field of vision at that time.

However, although the divine power of the Others was insufficient, the state of the Lord of Light didn't seem much better.

Viserys had glimpsed that within the strong red light of the south, there seemed to be many black threads mixed in.

Was the Lord of Light ill?

Viserys asked Melisandre about this, and the red priestess fell silent for a long time, shook her head slightly, and could not give an answer.

Her communication with the Lord of Light had always been one-sided. The Lord of Light spoke, and she listened.

She spoke, and the Lord of Light gave no response. Whether he heard or not was even more unknown.

Even the strange revelation given to her before, she had followed it but still didn't understand why... why did he want her to do that?

What did the Lord of Light want to get from Viserys?

A seed of doubt appeared in the mind of the red priestess, and she quickly shook her head to dispel it.

But once the seed of doubt is planted, it's hard to uproot. The woman's face showed a hint of uncertainty.

Then Melisandre fell silent for a long time, and then couldn't help but ask again.

"If that's the case, Your Grace."

"Do we not have a chance of victory this time, to seize this opportunity to kill the Night King?"

Regardless, Melisandre knew that she was a servant of the Lord of Light.

Her existence was to eradicate the Others, to help the true king save the entire world.

And now that the Lord of Light has told them that the divine power of the Others is insufficient and unstable, isn't this the best opportunity?

Kill the servant of the Others in one fell swoop, and completely end the chaos of the Others that plagues the world.

"I can't say for sure."

Viserys also took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Whether we can kill the Night King mainly depends on whether he gives us the opportunity."

"I will try my best to find him and slaughter him."

Because of the unique black magic lost from Valyria, Viserys himself is a very special existence.

And as far as he knows, there are two other such special existences, one is the Night King and the other is the legendary Three-Eyed Raven.

The main ability of the Three-Eyed Raven is not in combat, but in traversing the river of time, knowing the secrets of the past, and also being able to see a bit of the future.

The Night King, on the other hand, is a master of raising the dead. As long as he is alive, he can endlessly raise the dead, drowning all opponents with a sea of people.

Therefore, if he wants to hide, Viserys can't find him, and there's nothing he can do.

...

The bone-chilling wind blew from the north.

Snow began to fall in the sky over the Twins again.

The Green Fork, which had frozen for the first time in nearly sixty years, was covered with frost again not long after it thawed.

After a year and a half of hard and bitter fighting with the Others, all the soldiers of the allied forces had gained experience.

Just looking at the bad weather, the distant snowstorm seemed like a horde of thousands of soldiers rushing towards them, and they knew that the Others had arrived again.

"Damn it!"

Sandor Clegane, clad in armor, sat on a tree stump outside the camp, with his greatsword by his side, cursing as he looked into the distance, and spat.

He had actually drunk a couple of glasses of wine today and wanted to come to the Dothraki camp to talk to Viserys.

Because the only person who could kill his brother was him.

Of course, this was not a love-hate relationship.

Sandor truly hated his brother, 'The Mountain' Gregor Clegane, to the bone. He wished he could skin him and pull out his tendons, so he didn't want
anyone to get ahead of him.

He heard that his brother was being held in the water prison of Pentos, being checked every day, not letting him die, but torturing him for a lifetime.

However, when Sandor was drinking and full of anger, he arrived at the entrance of the Dothraki camp, saw those tall and mighty grassland warriors, and felt the wind blow, his anger was much better.

Just as Sandor was hesitating, the Others arrived.

Whoo...

Whoo...

The alarm horn of the Twins sounded, echoing across the sky, and the camp of the allied forces immediately began to bustle.

The Others were still far from the main camp, but the scout cavalry had already discovered their traces in advance.

A large number of allied soldiers poured out from the camp, began to line up on the banks of the Green Fork, and at the same time, the commanders riding on horses were also loudly conveying orders.

"Front line!"

"Quick, quick, quick!"

The commander of the front line, Randyll Tarly, rode on his horse. His bald head had only one ear left, the other lost on the battlefield of the Wall.

At this moment, he held the Valyrian steel sword Heartsbane, commanding the soldiers to form ranks on the riverbank.

The soldiers of the allied forces, clad in various family armors, lined up on the riverbank, extending the battle line, with banners fluttering in the wind.

And catapults and giant crossbows were also pushed out, the sharp spears gleaming coldly, pointing across the river, forming a super long-range firepower position.

The first batch of dragonglass from Dragonstone had also been transported over, but due to the time constraint and scarcity, it was only used to make the arrowheads of the crossbows, hoping to snipe the Others.

And at this moment.

"Roar..."

A dragon's roar echoed across the sky, a huge black dragon swept across the sky, stirring up a wild wind, blowing the soldiers on the ground into a mess.

A dragon rider sat on the dragon's back. The dragon, carrying the rider, didn't stop at the banks of the Green Fork, but boldly flew alone towards the direction of the Others in the distance.

"This is a war between the living and the dead..."

"For our homes, for our wives, children, parents, for all those who cannot fight, we fight!"

As one of the highest commanders, Robert sat on his horse, delivering an impassioned speech.

Then.

In the year 293 AC.

The second Battle of the Twins, which left a heavy mark in history, officially broke out.

"All men! Prepare!"

"Fire!"

Boom, boom, boom...

One after another, the catapults roared, throwing burning stones across the Green Fork.

Thud...

The spears fired by the giant crossbows easily tore through the formation of the army of the dead, skewering a row of wights like candied haws.

"Kill!"

The soldiers of the allied forces erupted with unprecedented strength, pushing the wights who had crossed the Green Fork back.

Chapter 411: Wildfire Ships

"Heh—"

The dragon circled in the sky, periodically spewing flames that engulfed a multitude of wights in a sea of fire.

Boom, boom, boom—

The ice surface, frozen by the Night King, melted once again under the raging dragon fire. Many wights that had rushed forward lost their footing and fell into the water, swept away by the surging river. Others were pierced through the neck by flaming arrows and fell to the ground.

Thud—

Another sharp arrow, full of force, pierced directly through a wight's skull. The arrowhead entered through the eye socket and exited through the back of the head, the oil smeared on the arrow burning the wight's body.

This wight, wearing the armor of a Riverlands soldier, let out a sharp scream and fell onto the ice. It tried to struggle and rise, but was crushed by the wights surging up behind it.

Randyll Tarly, the commander of the vanguard, slowly lowered his bow and arrow, his expression somewhat solemn.

As a commander who had fought the Others many times, he keenly sensed that the Others had come prepared this time, perhaps learning from their previous retreat.

After all, the humans had gained a powerful ally.

Randyll Tarly slightly raised his head to look at the sky. The black dragon was still moving through the snowstorm, its flames turning the wights who had rushed onto the river surface into ashes and melting the hard ice.

Randyll Tarly was a man both rigid and shrewd, with a will of steel. He was famously blunt in his speech.

His rigidity was reflected in his persistence on certain issues.

For example, his affirmation of oaths, his loyalty to his liege lord and the king.

He believed that women should stay in the birthing room and not wield weapons, while men should be brave and fearless, fighting to the death on the battlefield.

Because of this, he was extremely dissatisfied with his eldest son, Samwell Tarly, because Samwell was fat and timid, and extremely lacking in self-confidence. However, he turned a blind eye to Samwell's strengths, such as his intelligence, love for reading, and ability to think...

Randyll Tarly's shrewdness was reflected on the battlefield. He was one of the most famous generals in the Riverlands, flexible and cunning in his use of troops.

He had once defeated Robert Baratheon head-on in the Battle of Ashford, the only defeat Robert had ever suffered in his life.

He didn't actually like Viserys, even though he had fought for the Targaryen family to the end.

In his view, he had fulfilled his loyalty to the Targaryen family, and now he had submitted to the Baratheon family along with his liege lord.

Viserys' return with an army in his eyes was an invader, and Viserys' vanguard was made up of some foreigners and rebels.

However, even so, he had to admit that Viserys' arrival greatly relieved the pressure on the allied forces.

"Roar—"

The dragon's figure kept circling, gradually disappearing in the vast snowstorm, leaving only the sound of its roar.

The snowstorm was getting bigger and bigger.

"In the end, we still have to rely on ourselves."

The bald man murmured softly, then drew Heartsbane from his waist, and with a forward slash, knocked down a wight, shouting angrily.

"Hold the line!"

...

In the middle of the allied forces.

King Robert Baratheon sat on a sturdy black warhorse, holding a warhammer in his hand, silently watching the battlefield in the distance.

But it was much quieter here, not as lively as the front line.

Although the middle line was not too far from the front line, it mainly left some retreat space for the front line soldiers. If they were defeated and ran away, they could escape from the sides of the middle line without impacting the formation of the middle line.

The formation was very important in marching and fighting. The battlefield could not be infinitely expanded, and it was useless to pile all the soldiers on the river bank, which would cause a chain reaction.

"Ned..."

The beard on his chin fluttered slightly with the wind, and at this moment, Robert, who was staring intently at the distant battlefield, suddenly spoke.

But he received no response.

"Ned?"

Then Robert Baratheon turned his head to look at his side, then turned his head to look at the other side.

The surrounding soldiers and nobles all showed strange looks, whispering to each other. Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort, was assigned to the middle line. He squinted his eyes slightly, looking at his king, not knowing what he was thinking.

And those who followed Robert, like Barristan Selmy, the captain of the Kingsguard, Mandon Moore, and others, looked at each other.

They all knew that their king was nervous...

"Shit!"

And it wasn't until then that Robert remembered that Ned was no longer by his side, but was leading the cavalry of the Seven Kingdoms in the front line.

Robert muttered a curse under his breath, gripping his warhammer.

He suddenly felt a chill, realizing that his palm was already covered in cold sweat.

In the defensive tactics of the river, the cavalry didn't play a big role. The cavalry couldn't fight in the water.

Therefore, Khal Qhogo's bloodriders led all the cavalry across the Green Fork to the other side of the river, not knowing what they were planning to do.

"Prepare!"

"Fire!"

Then, following the order of the siege weapon commander, the giant crossbows and catapults roared again.

Boom, boom, boom—

One after another, the burning boulders flew over the heads of the front line soldiers, trailing thick black smoke, then fell into the Green Fork.

With the surging dragon fire, the flames almost lit up the entire sky, as bright as day even in the night.

At this time, one of the trump cards of the allied forces, the ships filled with wildfire, were also sent out.

These ships were temporarily requisitioned civilian or merchant ships from the banks of the Green Fork.

Because they had considered in advance that the big battle might fail, the human allied forces had replicated the preparations before the Battle of Winterfell.

They had already evacuated the surrounding residents, letting them escape to the Westerlands or the Vale, or even further away.

And these ownerless ships were naturally conveniently requisitioned.

Controlling these ships filled with wildfire were Euron Greyjoy and his Ironborn.

This was a task with a high risk factor. A slight mistake could result in the ship and people going down together, but Euron accepted it without hesitation.

Because in his view, this was an opportunity to seek wealth in danger. Euron's genes naturally possessed a madness different from ordinary people.

But Euron was mad, not a fool, and certainly wouldn't do anything suicidal.

Now, Euron stood with one foot on the bow of the ship, a black eyepatch on his cheek, his one eye looking at the distant battlefield engulfed in war.

He was carefully directing the wooden ship filled with wildfire to approach the battlefield.

Chapter 412: Magic Abounds

"Be careful, all of you!"

Euron Greyjoy, standing at the bow of the ship, turned and ordered in a low voice.

All the ships loaded with wildfire were now upstream of the Green Fork, hidden in the darkness without any light.

His Ironborn crew, all seasoned sailors who had spent their lives on the water, now let the current carry them downstream. As long as they ensured the ships didn't drift towards the shore, they could jump ship and escape.

"Now's the time!"

"Go!"

Euron gave the order at the right moment.

Splash—

Splash—

All the Ironborn jumped into the icy waters of the Green Fork, swimming desperately towards the shore, fearing the repercussions of any delay.

The ships laden with wildfire drifted downstream, heading straight for the battlefield on the distant Green Fork.

Then.

Burning boulders, trailing long tails of flame, fell from the sky.

Boom—

One of the boulders struck a ship loaded with wildfire.

In an instant, a massive explosion swept across the Green Fork, silencing the battlefield.

Rumble—

The sky was illuminated by the blossoming green light, water spouts rose tens of meters high, and the shockwave, carrying mist, rolled outwards.

On the other side of the Green Fork, the soldiers of the allied forces who were engaged in battle dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, closing their eyes in pain and covering their ears.

This included Brandon Tallhart. Their eyes were stung by the intense light of the explosion, tears involuntarily streaming down their faces. The deafening sound of the explosion left their minds blank for a moment, as if the whole world had fallen silent.

"Damn it!"

Brandon Tallhart cursed, but he couldn't hear his own voice. A few seconds later, a buzzing sound filled his head, and warm blood trickled from his ears.

All the wights that had just crossed the Green Fork were instantly blown to pieces in the massive explosion.

Those wights that were splashed by the scattered tongues of flame let out sharp screams, turning into fiery specters before falling.

...

"Is this the power of wildfire?"

"How spectacular."

In the sky.

Viserys Targaryen, with the wind howling in his ears, looked down. The shockwave from the explosion even reached the sky, affecting Balerion.

However, this didn't have much effect on Balerion and him, as dragons were born of fire, and he had the blood of the dragon, which feared no flame.

But seeing this, Viserys felt a slight tension in his heart.

He and Balerion might not fear the power of wildfire, but ordinary soldiers couldn't.

The Iron Throne, as the legitimate ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, was not without its advantages. For this war, the Alchemists' Guild had made a large amount of wildfire for Robert, even more than what was made during the reign of Viserys' father.

And this wildfire might become an obstacle for House Targaryen to defeat the Iron Throne in the future.

Viserys, holding the saddle with one hand, was momentarily lost in thought, but soon returned his focus to the task at hand.

He was searching for the Night King among the army of the dead.

But the view from the back of a dragon wasn't great, the dragon flew fast, and the heavy snowfall severely affected Viserys' vision.

However, it seemed that the Night King also realized that Viserys was circling in the sky looking for him, and he never showed himself.

Viserys knew that to completely defeat the army of the dead, he must kill the Night King. All the White Walkers and wights were because of him, so the key to winning this war was to find and kill him.

Once, the Night King acted carelessly because he felt no human could threaten him. But now, with a dragon flying overhead, the Night King had become more cautious.

Thanks to the barrier of wildfire, the soldiers at the front had a moment to breathe, and Viserys could focus on searching for the Night King on the battlefield.

"Where are you hiding?"

With the wind and snow howling around him, Viserys took a deep breath and muttered to himself.

He gripped the saddle with one hand and pressed down slightly, and the dragon began to lower its altitude. The silver-haired dragon rider strained his violet eyes to pierce through the snow, searching for the Night King below.

...

The explosion on the river had a wide range.

The ice path that the Night King had laid on the river was completely shattered, and countless wights were instantly obliterated.

And on the other side of the Green Fork.

The location of the second Battle of the Twins was a bit further ahead than the first, about twenty-five miles, or over forty kilometers, from the Twins, at the fork of the Green Fork.

Now, the allied forces and the White Walkers were engaged in a fierce battle on the other side, and the cavalry of the allied forces had quietly crossed the Green Fork from two directions and reached the other side of the river, like quiet hunters, ready to seize the opportunity to strike at the enemy's neck.

The Dothraki were used to such surprise attacks.

But the knights of the Seven Kingdoms who were advancing with the Dothraki didn't seem very accustomed to this tactic of straying from the main battlefield.

However, their leaders, Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Stannis, were solemn and silent, and the remaining minor nobles and knights didn't dare to complain.

Then they heard the distant explosion, and all the waiting cavalry horses were frightened and became somewhat restless.

Khal Qhogo, looking at the green light in the distance, also showed a puzzled expression.

He hadn't expected these tin cans to have such terrifying weapons.

But soon regaining his composure, Qhogo didn't hesitate and took advantage of the opportunity to order the attack.

The Red Priestess Melisandre also followed the Dothraki cavalry to the rear of the White Walkers.

She told Qhogo through a translator to have all the cavalry raise their weapons high. Then she grabbed Qhogo's Valyrian steel arakh and murmured a spell.

Ever since that night, Melisandre had felt the magic within her greatly strengthened, the magic was extremely abundant.

She hadn't expected such a benefit. The red gem on her chest became even more brilliant, helping her ward off the surrounding cold.

Even the brave Dothraki were shivering from the cold, but she, in a single layer of clothing, was not afraid of the cold.

The night was lonely, and the surroundings were immersed in darkness.

Melisandre held the blade in her hand, her skin uncut, silently reciting the spell, her copper-colored hair began to flutter without wind, and her robes also began to flutter.

Khal Qhogo, who was initially dismissive.

Because they hated witches the most. If it weren't for the Khal ordering her to come, he would definitely ignore her.

But now, Qhogo's face changed slightly.

Because his Valyrian steel arakh, under Melisandre's palm, had ignited into a roaring flame, illuminating his cheeks.

Then the next second, countless incredulous exclamations rang out.

"My god!"

"Seven above!"

"Great Horse God..."

"Stars in the sky..."

Whoosh~

The weapons of countless
knights, held high in their hands, were all ignited with red flames.

The sky behind the army of the dead was illuminated by these suddenly appearing tens of thousands of torches.

Chapter 413: Have You Ever Seen a Palm Strike Descend from the Heavens?

As the caster who created this miracle, Melisandre gasped for breath, nearly falling off her horse. The red gem on her chest dimmed significantly, but her eyes remained bright, not the least bit dull, for at this moment, her recent doubts were resolved.

"So... this was your intention?"

Only now did Melisandre finally understand the strange revelation given by the Lord of Light.

She looked up at the sky illuminated by the flames, her red hair fluttering in the cold wind, and murmured to herself.

Thud, thud...

The knights around her, their weapons ignited with flames, heard Qhogo's command. They passed by Melisandre, heading into the distance, ready to strike at the rear of the White Walkers.

...

Meanwhile, at the front line.

The explosion of wildfire swept across the river, the green flames burning continuously on the surface of the water, halting the advance of the army of the dead.

The Night King, whose skeletal horse had been melted by Viserys' dragon fire in the first Battle of the Twins, was now standing on the ground, hidden among the army of the dead.

He had just extinguished the wildfire burning on the surface of the Green Fork, and once again laid a path of ice on the rushing river.

However, at this moment.

Whoosh~

Tens of thousands of torches suddenly lit up behind the army of the dead, illuminating the entire sky as bright as day.

Including the Night King, countless wights and the ancestors of House Stark couldn't help but turn their heads.

The Night King, wearing a crown of ice and carrying an ancient stone sword on his back, turned to look at the flames behind him. The icy blue flames in his eyes were jumping violently, suggesting that his heart was not as calm as it seemed on the surface.

But at the same time.

Whoosh...

A huge shadow pierced through the snowstorm, diving down from the sky with a loud dragon's roar.

"Finally—"

Viserys, gripping the saddle ring on the dragon's back, stared intently at the Night King hidden among the countless army of the dead on the ground.

"I've found you!"

The next second.

Boom—

A torrent of dragon fire rained down, the intense flames washing over the ground, turning countless wights into ashes under Balerion's fire.

Since the explosion of the wildfire, Viserys had been trying hard to find the Night King. Wildfire could burn on the surface of the water, so if the Night King didn't personally extinguish these flames, the army of the dead couldn't continue to cross the Green Fork under the cover of night to attack the allied forces' line.

Viserys was waiting for the Night King, hidden in the vast sea of corpses, to expose himself.

And as expected, the Night King finally couldn't help but take action.

He extinguished the flames of the wildfire, but at the same time, he also exposed his own position.

Balerion was extremely sensitive to the existence of magic, especially when the other party was primarily using ice magic, which was as eye-catching as a lamp in the dark.

The moment the Night King took action, he attracted Viserys' attention, and then the dragon pierced through the snowstorm and landed directly on his face.

Meanwhile, the White Walkers and the famous Kings of the North from history, who were scattered among the army of the dead, all turned their heads to look in this direction.

They sensed that the Night King was in trouble, under direct attack from the dragon.

But they didn't dare to approach directly, because while the Night King could resist the dragon's flames, they couldn't. This opponent was not meant for them.

On the ground.

Boom—

A huge pillar of fire descended from the sky, violently striking the ground. The dragon flapped its wings, hovering in mid-air, letting out a deafening roar.

All the wights near the Night King had been turned to ash by the dragon fire, clearing a patch of empty land in the vast army of the dead.

The Night King, wearing a crown of ice, was still kneeling on the ground, in the center of this empty land, holding up his ancient stone sword, resisting the impact of the dragon fire.

After an unknown amount of time, the dragon fire finally stopped.

"Roar—"

The dragon couldn't spew fire endlessly. The huge black dragon let out a reluctant roar, then spread its wings and flew into the distance.

Seeing the black dragon leave, the Night King finally lowered the stone sword he was holding up, and then stood up.

He looked at the retreating figure of the black dragon, his eyes burning with blue flames were indifferent, and seemed to carry a hint of mockery.

The same trick had been used twice by humans, but dragon fire was not enough to kill him.

However, at this moment.

Before the Night King could fully stand up, a figure suddenly descended from the sky, illuminated by the fire and wrapped in the snowstorm.

Whoosh~

He pierced through the white snowstorm, the wind howling in his ears, as he rapidly descended.

"Die!"

The man, clad in bright silver Valyrian steel armor, wearing a white plume helmet, his violet eyes shining brightly in the not yet extinguished dragon fire.

Viserys descended from the sky, his sword Dawn aimed straight at the Night King.

Meanwhile, on the ground.

The Night King seemed to sense someone above him and suddenly looked up.

Then he saw the dragon rider descending from the sky in the firelight.

The flames in the Night King's eyes jumped, becoming more intense.

He let out a roar like the cracking of ice, and once again blocked his body with the stone sword in his hand, trying to block Viserys' attack.

However, Viserys' figure descending from the sky turned into a cloud of black smoke and disappeared in an instant.

The Night King's eyes narrowed, the flames in his eye sockets jumping even more violently.

And the next second.

Swish—

A crimson longsword stabbed towards the Night King's heart from behind.

But the Night King's reaction was quick, he turned his head abruptly, his cold eyes looking directly at Viserys.

This was the first time the two of them had faced each other one-on-one.

Clang—

The stone sword in the Night King's hand and Dawn in Viserys' hand collided violently, sparks flying.

"Such powerful strength."

In the raging snowstorm, Viserys descended from the sky, jumped off the dragon, and engaged the Night King in a one-on-one duel. The wights around them had been cleaned up by the dragon fire, and no one would disturb them.

Viserys had tried to assassinate the Night King from behind after his figure changed, but the Night King had reacted.

When the swords collided, Viserys immediately felt a bone-chilling cold and strength, his face changing slightly.

However, Viserys reacted quickly, not shocked by the Night King's terrifying strength.

His other hand had already drawn a Valyrian steel dagger.

Gripping the handle, he stabbed towards the Night King's abdomen.

"Die!"

Chapter 414: Duel with the Night King

"Die!"

Swoosh—

Viserys moved swiftly, gritting his teeth slightly as he thrust his Valyrian steel dagger towards the Night King's abdomen.

He knew that the Night King's body, while seemingly sturdy, was incredibly fragile. A single strike with dragonglass or Valyrian steel could shatter him instantly.

Unfortunately, Viserys' dagger was only an inch away from the Night King's abdomen, just a hair's breadth from piercing his body.

But the Night King reacted in time, grabbing his wrist.

Crack—

The Night King gripped Viserys' wrist tightly, his eyes shimmering with a terrifying light, a hint of surprise and anger in his gaze.

He had almost been killed by a human.

Viserys, too, stared at this greatest enemy in human history from such a close distance, his eyes filled with gravity.

"The Night King."

This adversary had been destined to destroy the world since eight thousand years ago, the greatest villain and boss in the world.

The Night King's eyes were deep, swallowing everything around him like a bottomless pit.

Viserys and the Night King locked eyes at close range.

Then, for the first time, the silver-haired youth felt an unprecedented terror, his hair standing on end, feeling as if the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

"This guy..."

Viserys felt a chill, his eyes narrowing slightly, and a bone-chilling cold spread from where the Night King had grabbed his wrist.

His entire arm had become stiff and numb. If the Night King held on for a few more seconds, perhaps Viserys would be frozen solid.

Then Viserys thrust his sword towards the Night King with his right hand, forcing him to let go. The Night King dodged, his stone sword slashing towards Viserys.

Clang—

Their weapons clashed again, the scorched earth and freshly fallen snow beneath them were sent flying.

The stone sword radiated an unprecedented chilling aura, while the divine weapon in Viserys' hand, Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star, emitted a scorching heat that dispelled the surrounding cold for Viserys.

Then the Night King attacked again, gaining the upper hand. He thrust his sword again, but Viserys sidestepped it.

Despite wearing a full set of Valyrian steel armor, Viserys' movements were still agile. The Night King also wore a set of ancient-looking bronze armor, covered in frost.

In the white snow.

Clang—

Clang—

When divine weapons clashed, sparks flew.

The two of them fought one-on-one.

And on the land that had just been cleansed by dragon fire, a layer of snow had fallen again, making it a silver-white world.

But it seemed that the Night King had ordered the wights and the undead not to disturb the two of them.

Viserys wanted to kill the Night King himself to end this war and save the world.

And the Night King had the same intention. He wanted to kill Viserys, to eliminate the last obstacle preventing him from destroying the world.

Therefore, these two most important figures for both sides began a one-on-one duel here.

Clang—

Clang—

Then the long swords clashed violently again, and Viserys' feet slipped slightly.

The Night King then raised his foot and kicked directly at Viserys, who blocked with his arms in front of his chest.

Thud—

The Night King's kick was powerful, and Viserys was sent flying, sliding several meters away in an instant.

Hiss…

His feet plowed two shallow trenches in the snow before he finally stopped.

The Night King had kicked Viserys away, and the Valyrian steel dagger in the silver-haired youth's other hand was thrown out at the same time.

The dagger shot upwards towards the Night King's throat, and the Night King tilted his head slightly as if to dodge.

However, the Night King couldn't dodge in time. The Valyrian steel dagger hit the icy crown on his head, easily cutting off a corner of the crown.

Clang—

In the dark snow, a crisp sound rang out.

The dagger disappeared into the darkness, and a corner of the crown fell onto the white ground.

The Night King stood in place, his expression clear, slightly stunned.

Then he raised his hand to touch the icy crown on his head, which had a corner cut off, and his face suddenly darkened.

"Huff~"

Not far away, Viserys, who had been kicked away and was now kneeling on one knee on the ground, also took a deep breath.

He looked up to see that the dagger had only hit the Night King's icy crown, cutting off a corner of it, and his face showed a hint of disappointment.

Then, his hand, wrapped in bright steel, propped against the ground, and he staggered to his feet.

The Night King, not far away, had his eyes burning like fire, staring at him intently.

Viserys gritted his teeth slightly.

Then the two of them, without a word, charged at each other again in the white snow.

...

The Night King and Viserys began a one-on-one duel on the other side of the Green Fork.

And the cavalry unit that had circled behind the army of the dead, holding weapons ignited by Melisandre's powerful magic, charged at the endless undead.

"Kill!"

"Roar~"

The knights of the Seven Kingdoms and the Dothraki mixed together, forming an unstoppable grand steel torrent.

The earth trembled under the galloping of tens of thousands of hooves, directly aiming at the rear of the army of the dead.

The boundless army of the dead, although they had suffered heavy blows in the river crossing battle, still had a terrifying number.

The allied forces had repeatedly revised their estimates of the army of the dead, from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands, and now to millions or even more.

The damage caused by wildfire explosions, catapults, giant crossbows, and soldiers' desperate fighting was just a drop in the bucket for the army of the dead. On the vast north bank of the Green Fork, there were still endless wights waiting to move south, only being forced to stop here.

Rumble—

The largest cavalry unit in the history of Westeros charged.

If any noble or soldier of the Seven Kingdoms saw this scene, they would be scared into breaking formation, or even surrender directly.

However, the wights were not afraid at all, turning their heads to pounce on the cavalry unit.

Boom—

Then the human cavalry at the forefront and the wights collided fiercely, causing a huge noise, followed by flying flesh and blood, and continuous screams.

"Kill!"

From a bird's-eye view from the sky.

The boundless black army of the dead was instantly ripped open with a shocking huge wound.

And just this momentary contact caused more damage to the wights than the impact of the wildfire explosion on the river.

In the era of cold weapons, cavalry was still the invincible reaper.

The cold wind howled, and the fire soared into the sky.

"Roar~"

The Dothraki swung their flaming scimitars, charging into the ranks of the wights, reaping the heads of the wights at will.

Chapter 415: Defeat at the Front

The cavalry of the Seven Kingdoms and the Dothraki together had turned their backs on the army of the dead.

On the front lines of the Green Fork, people could see nothing but the sudden flames rising in the distance. Even the soldiers on the watchtowers could only see the white snowstorm.

In such conditions, coordinating a unified command was nearly impossible, relying entirely on the commander's ability to adapt on the spot.

"Seven hells! What the hell is happening over there? Doesn't anyone know?!"

Robert, mounted on his horse and clutching his hammer, his black beard fluttering in the wind, cursed and fumed, his heart anxious, a sudden sense of unease welling up within him.

But Robert didn't know where this unease came from. It seemed to come from all directions, and the only thing that could do that was the snowflakes swirling in the sky. Perhaps it was this ignorance, being enveloped and blinded by the snowstorm, that had transformed into inner panic and helplessness.

The main force of the allied army was also affected by their commander, becoming somewhat restless. People whispered among themselves, but no one knew what was happening.

On the banks of the Green Fork, the vanguard led by Randyll Tarly, who had been the first to confront the wights, finally couldn't hold on any longer, showing signs of collapse.

"Help!"

"Save me!"

"Save me!"

"Ah—"

In the darkness, the fire flickered, and more and more defeated soldiers began to appear on both sides of the main force.

Clatter...

Clatter...

In the darkness, the sound of armor rubbing was everywhere, footsteps were frantic, and screams were heard. Soldiers from various houses of the allied army threw away their helmets and armor and fled back from the front line in disgrace.

"Run!"

"Run quickly!"

The main army, however, was silent as a rock, preparing to meet the enemy with sharp swords and spears.

"Everyone, move to the sides!"

"Those who break ranks, die!"

Roose Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort, mounted on his horse, holding his whip, loudly scolded the fleeing soldiers.

As more and more soldiers from the front line broke ranks, the soldiers of the allied army in the middle became increasingly nervous, gripping their weapons tightly, their palms sweating.

"They... are coming."

The wights' howls became clearer in the ears of the allied soldiers.

Although they couldn't see what was ahead, obscured by the white snowstorm, the sound was getting closer. This invisible fear was gradually intensifying, and many people swallowed hard.

Gulp—

The soldiers looked at each other, each seeing the fear in the other's eyes.

Thud...

And Roose Bolton's horse beneath him also became somewhat restless, constantly pawing at the ground. The cold wind was biting, and white mist sprayed from the horse's large nostrils.

The cold and cunning Lord of the Dreadfort, sitting on his saddle in the icy wind, listening to the sounds of battle all around, suddenly felt somewhat uneasy, involuntarily turning his head from side to side.

Then his brow furrowed slightly.

He always felt like someone was watching him, seemingly with ill intent, but with so many people on the chaotic battlefield, he couldn't find that person.

"Is it an illusion?"

Roose Bolton slightly pulled on the reins, making his horse a bit calmer, his eyes calm and undisturbed, scanning the surroundings.

In fact, no matter how terrifying the battlefield, or how horrifying the wights, he was not in much danger. Because these high-ranking nobles in the allied army would always be the first to leave if they found the situation on the battlefield unfavorable.

This was why, up to now in the war, the highest-ranking noble to die was the old Walder Frey, Lord of the Twins, who had been scared into jumping into the river.

There were very few records of high-ranking nobles dying. There was one in the Westerlands, and Jon Umber, and another one... Roose Bolton had forgotten.

So he wasn't particularly afraid.

If all of Westeros was destroyed, he could just flee to the other side of the Narrow Sea. He had invested in a good son with Viserys, his bastard Ramsay Snow.

In recent communications, he had learned that Ramsay had been put to good use by Viserys, receiving a position overseeing internal affairs, something called the 'Department of Internal Affairs'.

Perhaps it was about purging... corruption? Supervising officials?

The Seven Kingdoms did not have such a specific independent position. Matters of intelligence, both internal and external, seemed to be managed by the Master of Whisperers. But the new dynasty had split this power to prevent the Master of Whisperers from monopolizing power.

So Roose Bolton wasn't clear about the exact situation of his bastard Ramsay with Viserys.

But what was certain was that Roose Bolton had never taken Ramsay seriously. He was just his bastard, a pawn in his game of hedging bets.

The heir to the Dreadfort was a young man far superior to Ramsay, Domeric Bolton. Unlike his father and brother, he was very quiet and talented, proficient in history, skilled in playing the harp and riding, as if he was born in the saddle. Roose Bolton was very satisfied with this son.

And what Roose Bolton didn't notice was that in the allied army shrouded in night, not far from his position, there were two soldiers in royal armor.

They were looking at the back of the Lord of the Dreadfort, mounted on his horse, whispering quietly to each other, their eyes flashing with ruthless light.

And on the front line.

After the Night King extinguished the wildfire, the wights once again surged across the Green Fork. The soldiers at the front line could no longer hold on and finally collapsed completely.

Lord Tommen Smallwood of Acorn Hall died on the spot. Lord Selwyn Tarth of Evenfall Hall, who had proposed defending the river at the pre-war meeting, was torn to pieces by the wights. Reynard, the eldest son of Lord Gawen Westerling of the Crag, fell into the water and his fate was unknown...

It seemed there was a bad omen. The nobles, who had suffered few casualties in the previous battles, saw a sudden increase in deaths and injuries in this war. This might also be related to the intensification of the war.

And Randyll Tarly, the commander of the front line, was once again helped onto his horse by his guards and fled to the rear.

Randyll Tarly was covered in blood, his armor tattered. He sat on his horse, panting heavily, unwillingly turning his head to look back, watching more and more wights surge onto the banks of the Green Fork.

Why say again?

This was not the first time he had fled. He had been defeated in previous battles with the wights. He had experienced this scene of being helped onto his horse and fleeing several times. A once victorious general had been beaten into a constant loser.

But there was no way around it. Even if he alone could not turn the tide of the allied army's defeat.

"Go!"

Then Randyll Tarly spurred his horse and lay down on its back. His tattered armor made a sound.

He fled to the rear along with the defeated army.

Chapter 416: The Unexpected Turn of Events

The front line soldiers had completely collapsed, while the main force of the allied army was ready for battle.

"All men!"

"Prepare for the enemy!"

Robert Baratheon, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, was clad in heavy black armor, a crowned stag roaring on his chest, and a helmet as black as ink on his head.

Thud, thud...

His horse's hooves kicked up dust and snowflakes as he rode, inspecting the formation of the allied army. The heavy sound of hooves hitting the ground echoed as he commanded in a voice as loud as a bell.

"Raise your shields!"

Whoosh—

With the king of the allied army nearby, the soldiers' morale was naturally more steadfast. Countless shields were raised high, forming a wall in front of them.

The three Kingsguard following the king were also mounted on their horses, dressed in white armor without any family crests, their white cloaks fluttering in the wind.

"The king seems to have regained some of his old self."

Barristan Selmy, the captain of the Kingsguard, said as he watched Robert's back, holding the reins with one hand.

The Robert of old was tall and mighty, with a hearty personality, known throughout the Seven Kingdoms for his unmatched bravery. He was the dream lover of countless young girls. However, after winning the crown, Robert indulged in wine and women, which destroyed his body and spirit.

But in Barristan's view, Robert seemed to have regained some of his former self under the stimulation of the White Walkers.

The other two Kingsguard following the captain, Ser Mandon Moore sat silently on his horse, while Ser Boros Blount gave a silent snort of laughter. He glanced at Barristan's back and squinted slightly, as if he was thinking about something.

The cloud of decisive battle loomed.

The dawn had not yet arrived, and the sky was just beginning to turn a fish-belly white.

However, the various thoughts of the people within the allied army were fascinating to watch. In contrast, the wights were united, without a trace of distraction, fighting to destroy the world and eradicate all life.

Whoosh...

Countless defeated front-line soldiers fled from the sides of the main force. The figure of Randyll Tarly, the commander of the front line, also passed by here. He lay on his horse, his life or death unknown, just letting his horse run headlong into the darkness.

Robert saw him and felt a slight sinking feeling in his heart for some reason.

But there was no time for Robert to hesitate any longer. As more and more front-line soldiers fled, the sharp cries of the wights following them were getting closer and closer. The heavy footsteps made the ground under the soldiers' feet tremble slightly.

Rumble...

Then Robert's gaze pierced through the snowstorm, and the endless army of the dead finally charged forward.

"They're here!"

Robert gripped his war hammer tightly, and countless allied soldiers swallowed hard, gripping their shields or spears tightly.

The next second.

Boom—

Like a heavy tank rushing in, a loud impact sound and the sound of bones shattering were heard.

"Ah—"

Several allied soldiers were sent flying high, screaming as they fell to the rear.

A huge wight mammoth had broken into the formation of the allied army.

Half of its skull was hollow, as if something had gnawed it away, revealing rotten flesh that gave off a foul smell. Only one eye remained, its blue light full of bloodlust and madness.

One of the mammoth's long tusks had been broken in half, but it still tore through the seemingly impenetrable formation of the allied army like a hot knife through butter.

On the back of the mammoth sat a White Walker with white hair and ice armor. His gaze was directly locked on Robert Baratheon in the center of the allied army, and he made a piercing noise from his mouth.

Then, holding an ice sword, he urged his mammoth to charge directly at Robert.

He recognized Robert as perhaps the king of these humans and wanted to capture the king first.

Countless wights also followed him, madly attacking the allied army's line.

At this moment.

Bang!

The sound of a crossbow string snapping echoed, and a spear mounted on a giant crossbow was suddenly fired, making a sharp sound as it cut through the air.

The obsidian-made spearhead was aimed directly at the White Walker sitting on the back of the wight mammoth.

"Die!"

The allied soldier operating the giant crossbow had a face full of vengeful pleasure and pure hatred, intertwined, even becoming distorted. His heart was completely filled with hatred.

He was a soldier from the North, his hometown had fallen to the wights, his mother had died in the North and might have become one of the wights, and his wife had died from a snake bite on the journey south to escape.

But he was just an ordinary person, a tiny figure in this unfortunate era. There were many, many people like him who had suffered unfair fates.

A spear fired from a giant crossbow by an ordinary allied soldier, with a dragon glass spearhead carrying a full load of hatred, easily pierced the chest of the White Walker.

These dragon glass were the first batch mined by the Targaryen family after they occupied Dragonstone and were transported to the front line to be made into weapons.

The White Walker, riding on the back of the wight mammoth, had an incredulous look on his face. He seemed to have never thought that he, who had lived for so many years, would be so easily killed by humans.

Bang—

Then he exploded into a sky full of ice shards, falling to the ground, completely disappearing from this world.

All that was left was his mount, the mammoth, which raised its stinking trunk and heavy front foot, letting out a terrifying roar.

Whoo—

At this moment, the sound of a horn from the rear became louder, finally attracting the attention of the soldiers fighting on the front line.

"What's going on?!"

"What's wrong with the rear?!"

Robert, covered in blood, holding his war hammer, had a look of both shock and anger on his face.

Because this was the horn of retreat from the rear.

Chapter 417: The White Walker Well-Versed in Warfare

The rear of the formation was commanded by Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West and father-in-law to King Robert.

The vanguard and the center were the main forces against the White Walkers, but the rear also required a seasoned commander. Thus, the allied forces unanimously elected Duke Tywin to hold the rear.

However, no one expected that under Duke Tywin's command, a lapse would occur at such a critical moment.

The soldiers in the center, personally led by the king, were fighting the White Walkers, when suddenly, the horn signaling retreat sounded from the rear.

The darkness gradually faded, and a faint light appeared on the horizon.

The allied forces had been fighting all night and had finally made it to dawn. They thought they could take a breather, but the arrival of dawn plunged them into deeper darkness.

The allied forces had already learned from their long battle that the wights' attacks would intensify at night and wane during the day.

The two assassins who had killed Roose Bolton also disappeared amidst the chaos of the battlefield.

The guards of the Dreadfort reacted too late. They only found Roose Bolton's body; the assassins had long since vanished.

The retreat horn from the rear sounded and quickly faded.

"Kill!"

The fierce battle at the front line continued, filled with the clanging of weapons, screams, and cries of battle.

Robert, covered in blood, his armor adorned with the crowned stag now somewhat tattered, gasped for breath. He grabbed a passing nobleman by the collar.

"You!"

The man's chest bore the 'Winter Sun' crest, indicating he was a member of the Stark family from Karhold.

"What the hell happened at the rear?"

"Go check it out!"

Robert grabbed Torrhen Stark, the second son of Rickard Stark, the Earl of Karhold, and roared.

His face and beard were covered in blood, making him look terrifying. Torrhen was startled, but he quickly recognized the king and hurriedly responded with fear and respect.

"Understood, Your Grace!"

Torrhen Stark, looking somewhat disheveled, quickly mounted his horse and galloped towards the rear to see what had gone wrong with Lord Tywin Lannister.

Watching Torrhen Stark's retreating figure, Robert took a moment to catch his breath.

"Seven Hells."

He licked his dry lips, turned his head, and looked at the relentless wave of wights.

Robert's face twitched slightly, and he cursed vehemently.

"Damn it!"

Then he gripped his hammer and charged again.

Although dawn had arrived, the snow showed no signs of stopping.

The sky was still filled with heavy snowfall, reducing visibility. He had no idea what was happening behind him.

Torrhen Stark, the young second son of Karhold, had also been injured in the recent battle. He had been slapped in the chest by a wight that had once been a black bear.

Fortunately, he was wearing sturdy armor, especially thickened at the chest, which saved his life. However, he had a mouthful of blood in his chest that he hadn't spat out yet, making him feel uncomfortable.

Torrhen Stark, in his tattered armor, lay on his horse, heading towards the rear.

At that moment, he seemed to hear something unusual. He lifted his head slightly to look.

But all he saw was an ice arrow piercing through the snow, rapidly enlarging in his pupils.

"Hel-"

Torrhen Stark's eyes widened in terror, but before he could shout for help.

Thud—

The ice arrow had already brutally pierced his throat.

The sharp arrowhead protruded from the back of his neck, blood slowly trickling down. His body swayed slightly on the horse, then fell heavily into the snow, lifeless.

Torrhen's horse, as if witnessing a terrifying scene, let out a mournful neigh. It nudged its motionless master with its head, and when it received no response, it finally ran away in fear.

The one who had shot Torrhen didn't bother to chase the horse.

Then, from the white snow, the sound of shuffling footsteps gradually emerged.

Countless shaky figures walked out of the snow, followed by an endless army of wights.

Leading this group of wights was a female White Walker with dark hair and blue eyes. Her skin was pale and beautiful. A metal badge was pinned to her chest. She rode a skeletal horse and held an icy bow and arrow in her hand.

It seemed that she was the one who had just shot Torrhen Stark.

Dawn, like a sharp sword, cut through the night.

Daylight had arrived.

The biting cold wind blew the White Walker's hair. The female White Walker on the skeletal horse slightly turned her head, then withdrew her gaze.

The silent army continued to march forward. Among them were many figures wearing iron clothes, and even one with disheveled hair, only one arm left, and what seemed to be a driftwood crown on his head.

The last news from the Iron Islands was that they had been attacked by White Walkers a few months ago. After that, the Iron Islands completely lost contact with the mainland of Westeros.

Ravens flew over, then disappeared without a trace.

However, at that time, the allied forces of the Seven Kingdoms were fully preparing for the Battle of the Bays, planning to snipe the White Walkers at the Neck, even plotting to kill the Night King with wildfire. Naturally, they had no time to worry about the Iron Islands.

The Iron Islands had been out of contact since then, shrouded in mystery, silent for several months.

Are there any survivors on the Iron Islands?

What happened to Balon Greyjoy, the King of the Iron Islands?

No one knows now.

However, the White Walkers who initially attacked the Iron Islands now led an even larger army of the dead and suddenly appeared on the sea. They attacked Seagard directly from Ironman's Bay. An endless number of wights emerged from the sea, heading towards Seagard.

The Earl of Seagard, Jason Mallister, had already gone to assist the allied forces. The few remaining soldiers naturally couldn't resist the White Walkers.

So, Seagard fell easily, and not a single person managed to escape alive to deliver the news.

Moreover, due to the war with the White Walkers, the people near the battlefield in the Riverlands had been evacuated.

The front line had not received any news of Seagard's fall, let alone prepared for it.

Chapter 418: Robert Takes an Arrow

However, this massive army of the dead did not pause after capturing Seagard.

Instead, they continued to march relentlessly towards the battlefield, directly stabbing at the rear of the unprepared allied camp at Riverrun.

The defenders of Riverrun, too, had never imagined that an army of the dead would appear behind them as if they had fallen from the sky.

While the wights were being burned by Balerion's dragonfire on the Green Fork, and the soldiers of the alliance were fighting fiercely on the front lines, the twin towers of House Frey fell quietly in the rear.

Riverrun had officially fallen.

One of humanity's most reliable weapons against the White Walkers is human intelligence. The wights are brainless monsters, only fighting based on instinct.

But perhaps because humans and White Walkers have been in conflict for so long, they too have been drawn into the realm of the brainless.

They even made a fatal mistake, leaving their rear completely undefended. They never thought that the White Walkers would cut off their retreat. In previous wars, the Night King simply ordered the wights to trample human defenses head-on.

The sudden strategic maneuvering of the White Walkers caught the alliance off guard.

Fortunately, when Riverrun fell, there were survivors who escaped and rushed to the battlefield to report.

And because of the formation's position, this message was naturally intercepted by Tywin Lannister, who was stationed at the rear of the alliance.

However, for some unknown reason, there was a significant delay of several hours in the process of Tywin passing the message to Robert Baratheon, the commander of the entire army in the center.

Upon receiving the news, the Duke of Casterly Rock looked extremely grim. He immediately dispatched messengers to his son-in-law in front of everyone, while also beginning to mobilize troops to set up a defensive line to prepare for the enemy coming from the rear.

But the messengers Tywin sent out seemed to have lost their way in the snowstorm and never returned.

Tywin then sent out messengers again to ask for reinforcements from the main force.

He thought Robert should have received his message and made proper arrangements, but in reality, the commander of the entire army in the center had no idea that they had been stabbed in the back by the White Walkers.

So when Tywin's troops at the rear could no longer resist the onslaught of the army of the dead, and the line finally collapsed, sounding the horn of retreat and scattering in all directions, the main force of the alliance in the center was still fighting fiercely against the White Walkers, now caught in a pincer attack by the army of the dead.

They were sandwiched.

Therefore.

When the massive army of the dead appeared behind the soldiers of the alliance in the center as dawn broke...

Everyone was stunned.

"Damn it!"

They couldn't help but curse, then fell into deep despair.

"How did the White Walkers get here? Where are the people from the rear?"

Seeing the White Walkers suddenly appear behind them, and the brother troops that should have been at the rear had quietly disappeared.

"We've been sold out by that old dog Tywin!"

Everyone in the alliance, including soldiers and nobles, was in an uproar.

"We're done for!"

"We should never have trusted the Lannisters! Deception and filth run in their blood!"

People cursed Tywin Lannister, believing that the old dog had sold out the main force and ran away with his own men.

Some even dug up the old ancestor of the Lannister family, 'Clever' Lann, who was said to have tricked Casterly Rock from the then King of the Rock, House Casterly, through cunning schemes. They believed that this family had deceitful genes in their blood.

However, despite the cursing, the feeling of despair was rapidly spreading within the alliance.

"What... what do we do?"

In the past, when the alliance was defeated, they could still run away, still holding onto hope.

After all, even after the North fell, the Seven Kingdoms still had half a kingdom left, including the Riverlands, the Vale, the Westerlands, the Reach, and so on... Worst comes to worst, they could retreat to Dorne. Dorne is so hot, the Night King probably wouldn't come, right?

As long as there was hope, the soldiers of the alliance were willing to muster the courage to fight.

But now, with their retreat cut off by the White Walkers, the majority of the soldiers and nobles of the alliance were trapped at the fork of the Green Fork, crowded together like lambs to be slaughtered.

In front of them was an endless army of the dead, to the left was the raging Green Fork, and behind them was another army of the dead.

If they all died here, it could be declared that the fall of all of Westeros was just a matter of time.

"We're surrounded by the White Walkers."

"We're all going to die here."

A sense of despair was also rapidly spreading in the air above the alliance.

However, at this moment, Robert Baratheon, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, stepped forward. He held his warhammer high and roared.

"Break out!"

"Everyone follow me to break out! Otherwise, we will all die here! Preserve hope, preserve our spark!"

Robert, as the king, stood up in this situation and decisively decided to break out. His rallying cry had a very obvious effect.

The morale of the alliance, which had sunk to its lowest point,
was somewhat relieved. After all, the king was still by their side, not abandoning them to run away on his own.

"Everyone! Follow me!"

"We're breaking out to the east!"

Robert, tall and riding a high horse, was extremely conspicuous among the alliance.

He held his warhammer high and led the way, leading the soldiers to break out towards the east of the battlefield.

The current battlefield situation was very simple. If they didn't want to be driven into the river by the wights, they could only break out to the east, heading towards the Bite or hiding in the Mountains of the Moon in the Vale, entering the territory of the mountain clans.

However, at this moment.

Robert suddenly caught a glimpse of a familiar figure coming from the rear of the army of the dead, and he momentarily froze in place.

"Huh? She is..."

Robert, who had lost a lot of weight due to the war and stress, sat on his horse with his eyes wide open, a look of disbelief clearly on his face, and he couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"This... can't be..."

But while Robert was stunned, the female White Walker from the rear of the army of the dead did not hesitate to take off her icy longbow and shot an arrow without hesitation.

Thud—

A splash of blood erupted, and Robert, caught off guard, was hit by the arrow and fell from his horse.

"Your Grace!"

"Your Grace!"

The king was hit by an arrow and fell from his horse, and the alliance was instantly thrown into chaos. As Robert fell from his horse, he seemed to be calling out a name.

...

The rear of the battlefield was in dire straits.

And far away, at the very core of this war.

Clang—

The fight between Viserys and the Night King continued, their swords clashing violently.

Then, the roar of a dragon sounded overhead.

Boom—

A sky full of dragonfire poured down, completely enveloping the two below.

Chapter 419: The Crown Shatters

Boom—

Flames soared into the sky, dragonfire washing over the earth.

Viserys, gripping his sword hilt, was locked in a struggle with the Night King.

His helmet, knocked off by the Night King's sword in the heat of battle, had flown off somewhere unknown. Now, his silver-gold hair was spread over his cold armor.

Everywhere Viserys looked, there was surging dragonfire. The Night King was also amidst it, the two of them fiercely fighting in a sea of fire, everything in their field of vision becoming distorted.

Under the cover of dragonfire, the silver-haired youth felt warmth throughout his body, instantly dispelling the cold around him. The Night King, however, had a completely different experience. Although he could resist the burning of the dragonfire, it was at the cost of his divine power.

The Night King was stronger than Viserys, having lived for thousands of years, while Viserys had the help of many allies.

As the situation shifted, Viserys gained the home field advantage. Plus, the sky had cleared, and the warm sunlight tried to penetrate the clouds that enveloped the entire battlefield, putting the Night King at a disadvantage.

Yet, at this moment, both of them, despite being extraordinary beings, had reached the point of exhaustion.

Crack—

The silver-haired dragon knight fell to one knee on the ground.

His crimson longsword supported his body, his handsome face full of fatigue. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath. He looked up at the Night King not far away.

The Night King's condition was no better than Viserys's. His ancient armor had become somewhat tattered, with a shocking wound in the middle.

During the recent fight, Viserys had rolled over to pick up the dagger he had thrown, nearly gutting the Night King who had pounced on him. Unfortunately, the Night King had dodged it.

Now, the Night King, holding his stone sword, stood shakily in place. The ice-blue flame in his eyes flickered like a candle in the wind, and he made a sound like cracking ice.

He raised his stone sword, seemingly ready to attack Viserys again.

Viserys, kneeling on one knee, saw this and his eyes narrowed slightly, his fingers gripping the sword hilt tightly.

However, at this moment.

A crisp sound suddenly came from the ice crown on the Night King's head.

Crack—

Like the sound of a delicate porcelain shattering, it was especially clear on the silent battlefield where only the two of them remained.

The Night King paused, then stopped in his tracks.

"Huh?"

Viserys, panting heavily, was also unsure of what had happened.

Then he saw the Night King stop and remove the ice crown from his head, which had a corner chipped off.

The semi-transparent ice crown refracted brilliant light in the sunlight. A clear crack could be seen running through the middle of it, spanning the entire crown.

The next second, the ice crown in the Night King's hand completely shattered, turning into crystal points of light like stars in the sky. They fell from the Night King's hand to the ground, then disappeared without a trace.

The Night King's face instantly darkened.

The flame in his eyes, like a candle in the wind, began to flicker violently, as if burning with a rage as turbulent as dragonfire.

"What is..."

Viserys, who had witnessed this entire scene up close, didn't know what the shattering of the ice crown meant.

He should now be considered the human who understood the Night King the best in the entire world, without a doubt.

Because they had been fighting for so long, and the Night King still hadn't killed him.

"What exactly happened?"

"Why did the ice crown shatter?"

Viserys, supporting himself on his sword hilt, panting heavily, his brain was thinking quickly, but he couldn't find the answer.

But it was certain that Viserys was now at the end of his rope.

He had used all of his black mist on his combat attributes, but it was still not enough to break through the significant threshold of thirty, otherwise, Viserys's strength might have jumped a level, reaching a height equal to the Night King's.

Now he was completely putting on a brave face, hoping to bluff the other side.

If the Night King were to attack him again, Viserys could only call down Balerion, turn into black mist, and escape on the dragon's back.

However, at this moment, the Night King's ice crown shattered.

The Night King stood in place, silent, and Viserys didn't want to provoke him. Supporting himself on his sword hilt, he shakily stood up.

But then, the silent Night King finally looked up. He looked at Viserys, the flame in his eyes flickering.

Viserys's heart tightened, but he gripped his sword hilt and stood his ground. His armor reflected the light of the dragonfire, his gaze fixed on the other side, appearing undaunted.

Then, the Night King finally made a sound like cracking ice.

The morning sun pierced through the gloom of the night, and the snow that had been falling all night finally stopped at this moment.

But a thick layer of snow had already accumulated on the ground, and the frozen surface of the Green Fork showed signs of thawing.

The Night King's voice pierced the battlefield and reached the ears of every wight.

The Kings of the North of past generations, used by the Night King because of the Stark family's special bloodline, had been resurrected with bones and earth, regaining their former appearance. They naturally had a supernatural connection.

They sat on their skeletal horses, the cold wind blowing their white hair and beards. They heard the Night King's command, looking at the human alliance about to be wiped out, their eyes showed no regret.

Then they turned their horses and retreated in the direction they had come from.

Countless wights, who had been bloodthirsty just a short while ago, became incredibly docile under the Night King's command, silently following the Kings of the North, heading north.

"Your Grace!"

In the alliance's main force, surrounded by wights and in a desperate situation.

The commander of the Kingsguard was holding the king's body. Robert had been shot in the right chest, and although he didn't die on the spot, he was unconscious and in critical condition.

However, in this extremely critical moment, no one expected the wights to retreat under these circumstances.

"What's going on?"

"What happened?"

The main force of the alliance, tens of thousands of human soldiers, were surrounded by wights, on the verge of being wiped out.

Then they watched in fear as these dead people passed by them, not attacking them anymore, but heading north.

They were baffled, also not knowing what had happened.

"Could it be... that one?"

However, someone suddenly thought of something.

Viserys had ridden his dragon deep into the rear of the army of the dead and then never returned. He must have done something.

"Could it be that the Night King is dead?"

Chapter 420: Winter's End

The surviving soldiers of the alliance began to whisper amongst themselves, their imaginations running wild.

"It's impossible."

"If the Night King were dead, all these wights would be too."

However, his words were immediately countered by others. Some among them had witnessed the death of a White Walker, and knew that when one died, all the wights it had created would crumble. And since the Night King had created all the White Walkers, he was the lifeblood of the entire army of the dead.

Regardless, the army of the dead had retreated once again, and all the soldiers and nobles of the alliance had been spared.

They watched as the endless horde of wights passed by them, slowly heading north until their figures disappeared from sight.

"We're alive... we're finally alive."

Some couldn't help but weep with joy, embracing each other, while others simply lay down in the snow and fell into a deep sleep.

"Quick, fetch the maester!"

King Robert Baratheon, who had been shot in the right chest, was laid on the ground. His blood stained the white snow. The maester who had accompanied the army was hastily summoned to save the king's life.

King Robert had fallen into a coma after being shot, and the alliance was now leaderless. Among the nobles present, none had the weight or ability to take up the mantle of command, not with the likes of Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell, and Stannis Baratheon, the Duke of Dragonstone, absent.

"I propose... I..."

Edmure Tully, the heir to Riverrun, seemed eager to step forward, but as he rose, clad in clean armor and leaning on his sword, he was met with silent mockery from the other nobles. He shook his head.

"Edmure!"

His uncle, Brynden 'Blackfish' Tully, clad in the armor of the Vale, didn't want to see his nephew ridiculed by the other nobles. He interrupted Edmure bluntly.

The young heir to Riverrun looked at his uncle, seemingly unaware of the laughter on the faces of the others. Brynden sighed and spoke.

"Sit down."

Edmure might be the heir to Riverrun, the future lord, but as long as his father still drew breath, he was not yet the lord of the Riverlands. The others still saw him as an unproven young man.

"Ser Barristan Selmy should take command."

Jon Royce, the representative of the Vale's forces, suggested that the commander of the Kingsguard temporarily take command. Ser Barristan Selmy was a man of ability, status, and character, and was well-suited to take temporary command of the army.

More importantly, the Kingsguard only served the king and did not involve themselves in the disputes of the other noble houses of the Seven Kingdoms. In this situation, they could command respect and unite everyone.

As expected, Jon Royce's proposal was not opposed by the nobles present. They looked at each other and then nodded in agreement.

"Agreed."

"I concur."

"I agree."

Ser Barristan Selmy did not refuse or decline. He took on the heavy responsibility and temporarily assumed the position of commander in the king's stead.

"I thank you all for your trust."

Then, leading the remnants of the alliance and the unconscious king, he prepared to retreat south.

Just then, a flurry of snow announced the arrival of Tywin Lannister, bearing the golden lion banner, finally arriving with his forces.

...

Meanwhile, far from the battlefield, on the opposite bank of the Green Fork...

The ground where the King of the Dead and the human king had fought was scorched black by dragon fire.

The figure of the Night King was slowly fading into the distance, and the silver-armored dragon knight, unable to support himself any longer, fell to his knees once again.

Crack—

His bright armor made a sound, reflecting the morning sun.

After a night of fierce battle, the clouds in the sky dispersed, as if the clouds had been parted to reveal the sun, and the brilliant sunlight once again shone upon the earth.

Viserys was completely exhausted. After falling to his knees, he simply threw the divine weapon, Twilight, to the side and lay down on the scorched earth covered in a layer of snow, sprawling out in a large X.

His companion, the black dragon Balerion, also descended from the sky, not pursuing the Night King.

Boom—

The dragon landed heavily on the ground, stirring up dust. Its long neck stretched out slightly, and its ferocious dragon head nudged Viserys on the ground.

Realizing that his companion was not dead, but rather making a 'get lost' gesture, Balerion raised its neck and let out a long roar.

The dragon and its rider shared a unique mental bond. Balerion knew that Viserys was not dead, just a bit exhausted.

Just then, a figure was slowly approaching Viserys.

Swish...

The woman in the red dress, her copper-colored hair fluttering in the wind, walked amidst the smoke and stench of the battlefield, her dress rustling in the wind.

Balerion noticed someone approaching and turned its head, letting out a low warning growl.

But when it saw who it was, the dragon's massive head slowly rose, its
crimson eyes locked onto the red priestess below. It did not prevent her from approaching Viserys, but rather let her pass.

The dragon had a unique sense for humans. It sensed that Melisandre meant no harm to Viserys, considered her a friend, and therefore did not make things difficult for her.

The red-robed priestess who was slowly approaching also looked up at the colossal creature.

The dragon radiated an astonishing heat. When Balerion landed on the ground, the surrounding snow began to melt, turning into slush.

Melisandre saw that the dragon did not intend to stop her, knew that it understood human nature, and so she gave a slight curtsy before walking towards Viserys.

Swish—

The dragon knight, who had been lying on the ground without any dignity, now got up from the ground.

"Ugh."

He spat out a mouthful of scorched earth and snow that had splashed into his mouth when Balerion landed.

"Your Grace."

Melisandre came to Viserys's side.

She glanced at the divine weapon, Twilight, thrown on the ground, then her beautiful eyes fell back on Viserys. She spoke softly.

"You have saved countless lives by driving back the Night King single-handedly."

Then the red priestess looked in the direction where the Night King had retreated.

"The Cold God has retreated this time, winter has passed, and a long summer is coming."

"I suspect that at least for the next five years, they will not return south of the Neck."

"What are your plans now?"

Chapter 421: Tywin's Maneuver

"Plans?"

Viserys rose from the ground, dusting himself off. He bent down to pick up Twilight, which he had tossed aside, and then aimed the sword tip at the sheath on his waist and slid it back in.

Clang...

The sound of the blade scraping against the sheath echoed out. Viserys gripped the hilt of the sword, then lifted his head and spoke.

"I don't have any plans right now. I just want to lie down and get a good sleep."

The silver-haired young man's face was filled with exhaustion. The night of intense battle had indeed taken a toll on him, even though he had now stepped into the realm of the extraordinary.

"Who told you what you just said? Was it a revelation from the Lord of Light?"

Viserys asked. Melisandre shook her head slightly, raising her hand to catch a ray of sunlight.

"No, it's something I felt on my own."

The silver-haired youth was slightly taken aback.

He then also felt the warmth carried by the sunlight. The end of winter, the beginning of spring, the morning breeze was moist, and the world suddenly became full of life.

Winter had left with the Night King's retreat, and the spring breeze quietly swept across the land. The nightmare had passed, and hope had finally become reality.

For some reason, Viserys suddenly felt a bit melancholic. Looking back, from the day he arrived in this world to now, it felt like he had been in a nightmare.

He then inexplicably sighed and cursed under his breath, a rare occurrence.

"Damn!"

Time flies. The Targaryen family lost the Iron Throne in the last 'false spring,' and in this spring, they returned to their homeland. It was a cycle of fate.

At this time, the rumbling of horse hooves came from afar. Dust and snow were flying, and the Dothraki, led by Khal Qhogo, rushed over from a distance.

After the war, the cavalry of the Seven Kingdoms had already left the leadership of Khal Qhogo under the command of Stannis and Eddard Stark, taking a completely different route to cross the river and return to Riverrun.

They were unaware of the fall of Riverrun and the fact that King Robert had been shot and was unconscious, but staying with these fierce prairie warriors was definitely not a good choice.

After all, they were enemies, not friends. They had only temporarily united due to the pressure of the White Walkers. This was something that Stannis and Eddard were very clear about.

Then.

Boom, boom, boom—

The horse hooves galloped, dust flew, and the ground trembled slightly.

However, the Dothraki who came with great momentum arrived in front of Viserys but did not stop.

Instead, they surrounded him and the red-robed witch in the middle, raising their arakhs high, and let out a piercing cheer.

"Roar, roar, roar!"

Viserys, who was in the center of the encirclement, seemed very calm. He just smiled and nodded, knowing that this was the Dothraki's unique celebration ceremony.

Then Khal Qhogo came out of the cheering crowd on horseback.

He came to Viserys and the red-robed witch, then dismounted and knelt on one knee.

"Blood of my blood."

...

The warm spring breeze swept over Riverrun.

The alliance of the Seven Kingdoms had retreated to this castle, which had been briefly occupied by the White Walkers. They killed all the wights left here and burned their bodies.

Among them were many descendants and servants of House Frey, who had narrowly escaped extermination.

The Freys, the lords of the crossing, were arguably the most unlucky family in this war. Their patriarch, Lord Walder Frey, was so frightened that he committed suicide by jumping into the river, and then the Frey's home was ransacked by the White Walkers.

Once one of the richest and most powerful families in the Trident region, the Freys were populous and large in scale, but they suffered heavy casualties in this war.

Only a few excellent descendants, who had been sent overseas by old Walder in advance, survived. Many died in the battlefield. The new Lord of Riverrun, Stevron Frey, lost his eldest son, Lymond, and was in deep grief.

The Frey family members who stayed in Riverrun all became fresh wights and were burned.

The temporary commander of the alliance was originally Ser Barristan Selmy, the commander of the Kingsguard. However, when Duke Tywin Lannister arrived with his troops, the situation reversed.

Many nobles who owed favors or had borrowed Tywin's gold silently switched their support to the Duke of Casterly Rock.

The soldiers of the alliance suspected that they had been betrayed by Tywin before, but they were surrounded by the newly supported Western army and dared not speak out.

However, Yohn Royce, the honorable Lord of Runestone, was not intimidated by the Western army. Instead, he took the initiative to stand up.

He directly questioned Tywin Lannister as to why he had retreated before the battle and betrayed the alliance.

Tywin's retreat directly put the lords of the alliance and the king in danger, nearly getting them all wiped out by the White Walkers.

Even Lord Royce attributed the blame for the king being shot to Tywin.

Now, in the alliance that maintains the stability of the Baratheon dynasty, the alliance of the wolf, stag, fish, and falcon, only Yohn Royce, the representative of the Vale, has the ability to stand up in the face of the current situation.

Jon Arryn, the Duke of the Eyrie, is dead. Hoster Tully, the Duke of Riverrun, is seriously ill and did not come. Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell, is not present. The king of House Baratheon is unconscious. The king's big brother is not back with Eddard.

Unfortunately, his remaining teammates are all weaklings. So when Lord Royce took the initiative to stand up and question Tywin, hoping to resolve the current predicament...

Not a single noble from the wolf, stag, fish, and falcon alliance dared to stand up and back him. Only Yohn Royce, clad in bronze armor, stood alone, facing Tywin's gloomy face.

Tywin was accused by Lord Royce of betraying the king and the interests of the alliance.

Facing such a serious accusation, Tywin naturally denied it.

Otherwise, even if he had three heads, it wouldn't be enough to chop off, and he would even become a public enemy.

However, having been confronted by the other party, Tywin had to explain himself in the face of this tricky issue.

Then, the Duke of Casterly Rock, with a gloomy face, explained in front of all the nobles and soldiers why he had retreated, trying to salvage his reputation.

According to Duke Tywin, he reported the bad news to the king as soon as he received it.

However, for some reason, the messenger disappeared and the message did not reach the king.

He not only did not shirk his duty and lose the battle, but as the commander of the rear, he also blocked the White

Walkers for at least several hours for the main force of the alliance.

He sent people to ask the king for help many times during this period, but he did not see any reinforcements.

Therefore, he was forced to retreat.

Chapter 422: Hard to Guard Against Hidden Arrows

How many truly listened to Tywin's explanation was uncertain, especially since the missing messengers couldn't stand up to vouch for him.

However, with a smattering of applause, Tywin managed to squeeze out the politically powerless commander of the Kingsguard and temporarily became the commander of the allied forces.

It seemed reasonable for the king's father-in-law to take over as the commander of the entire army in place of the injured and unconscious king.

After all, they were family, and the Kingsguard, no matter how loyal, were outsiders.

Thus, Tywin, leading the rear guard and the newly arrived reinforcements from the Westerlands, easily relieved Barristan Selmy of his duties.

The man had been commander for less than an hour before he was reduced to a high-ranking bodyguard once again.

Under the command of Duke Tywin, the allied forces returned to Riverrun to rest and recuperate. Soon, the cavalry of the Seven Kingdoms, returning from the front lines, brought good news.

The retreat of the White Walkers this time was thorough, and it seemed they wouldn't return for a while.

The maesters accompanying the army also noticed the change in temperature, predicting that winter had passed and a new spring had arrived. The last spring was the 'false spring' of the Conquest Year 281...

The retreat of the White Walkers was like the collapse of a mountain that had been pressing on everyone's hearts. The apocalyptic crisis was gone, the gloom overhead dispersed, and everyone felt their breathing become smoother.

Some even proposed holding a grand victory feast and tournament in Riverrun to celebrate this victorious moment.

After all, this was how it had been for many years. King Robert loved grand celebrations and was generous with his gold, and his vassals were willing to indulge him.

If King Robert hadn't been shot and fallen into a coma, perhaps he would have invited the Dothraki to join in a victory feast and tournament to commemorate their sincere feelings of fighting side by side.

After the two sides celebrated with wine and laughter, whether they would draw swords or sit down for talks would be a matter for later.

But defeating the White Walkers was certainly a joyous occasion worth a few drinks.

If King Robert hadn't fallen into a coma, given his temperament, such a thing might really have happened...

But unfortunately, there are no ifs in this world, and Robert still lay unconscious on his sickbed.

As the commander of the entire army, Tywin, with his meticulous green eyes, was strict in his command and hated drinking and revelry in the army.

Therefore, he harshly rebuked the fool who proposed this idea, and sternly told him that defeating the White Walkers did not mean complete victory, because they still had a more powerful enemy waiting for them.

Tywin's words were like a bucket of cold water poured on people's heads, completely sobering them from the joy of victory.

Who was the more powerful enemy?

Without Tywin explaining, everyone knew.

The enemy who could repel the Night King would naturally be a more powerful enemy, and he still had a large number of soldiers on the other side of the Narrow Sea who had not landed in Westeros.

However, although Tywin's words extinguished people's joy and made them tense again, overall, they were not as tense as when they faced the White Walkers.

Because no matter how terrifying Viserys and his Dothraki horsemen were, they were still humans. Since they were humans, they could communicate, unlike the White Walkers who didn't even give them a chance to negotiate.

If they really couldn't resist the Targaryen army swallowing Westeros in the future, they could simply surrender, which wouldn't be a psychological burden or affect their family's honor.

Moreover, the alliance and Viserys had not completely fallen out yet.

Therefore, although Tywin poured a bucket of cold water, the overall atmosphere of the alliance was still relaxed and active.

But among all the soldiers in Riverrun, there were two people who felt a bit worried.

One was Eddard Stark, Duke of Winterfell, and the other was Stannis Baratheon, the king's elder brother.

Both of them were in a difficult situation, holding the titles of Warden of the North and Duke of Dragonstone, but without any territory.

They had followed the Dothraki deep into enemy territory to fight the White Walkers, so they knew how terrifying Viserys's Dothraki horsemen were.

And they had witnessed the power of dragons up close, so they were worried about the future.

As long as they didn't fall out with Viserys, it was fine. But if they really fell out with Viserys, they feared they wouldn't stand a chance.

Moreover, after the two of them returned with their troops, they first went to see the unconscious Robert Baratheon. They were originally qualified to become the commander of the entire army.

One was the king's most trusted brother, the designated next Hand of the King, and the other was the king's own brother. They also had considerable support within the alliance.

But because of Robert's absence when he fell into a coma, they missed the best opportunity, allowing Tywin to take the position of commander, making it much harder to seize power.

At this moment.

The horn on the city wall of Riverrun suddenly sounded.

Woo——

The long and desolate horn sound quickly spread across the sky.

The soldiers of the alliance and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms came out one after another. It turned out that the figures of the Dothraki army had appeared at the end of the horizon, so they sounded the horn.

Rumble——

The sound of horse hooves was thunderous, the ground trembled slightly, and the Dothraki army, which stretched as far as the eye could see, appeared in the soldiers' field of vision like a wind sweeping away the flying grass, and then arrived in front of them in the blink of an eye.

The Dothraki arrived under Riverrun, separated by the rushing river and the towering drawbridge.

Riverrun's stone arch bridge was protected by two castles, with towering walls, deep moats, and heavy oak and iron doors.

Viserys, still clad in Valyrian steel armor, rode a white horse at the front of the formation.

Then he reined in his horse and looked up at the city wall of Riverrun. He saw Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark, Stannis, and others, but he didn't see Robert.

Viserys's brows furrowed slightly, then he asked, holding the reins with one hand at the foot of the city wall.

"Where's Robert?"

"Let him come out and see me."

However, at this moment, the sound of a giant crossbow being fired suddenly erupted from the city wall of Riverrun.

Bang——

A spear flew out at a tremendous speed, emitting a sharp whistling sound, aiming straight at Viserys, who was riding a white horse under the city wall.

And Viserys, under the city wall, raised an eyebrow, a faint purple light flickering in his eyes. He then swiftly drew Twilight from his waist and turned slightly towards the direction of the incoming spear.

Crack——

Then he split the incoming crossbow bolt
in two with a single stroke.

However, at this moment, a painful roar from a dragon came from the sky above.

Several dozen giant crossbow bolts were suddenly fired from the city wall of Riverrun, one of which hit Balerion in the chest, and dragon blood splattered on the ground.

Chapter 423: Excuse

"Roar——"

Balerion had been hit by an arrow, but the wound was not deep. The dragon let out a roar, its massive wings trembling.

Whoosh~

Then, a surge of dragon fire spewed onto the spot where the crossbow bolt had hit, melting it directly into ashes on its body.

Then, it slightly shook its heavy scales, and a black fog rose from the wound, beginning to heal its body, just like the last time it was injured in a battle with the corrupted dragon.

But compared to the last time it fought with a dragon even larger than itself, this minor injury was like a needle prick.

Someone in the allied forces might have thought that the giant crossbow could assassinate the dragon and Viserys, but the result was the opposite.

Not only did it not kill Balerion, but it also enraged the Black Death God, and Viserys shattered the crossbow bolt in mid-air with a single sword strike.

The reason Viserys dared to ride alone to the city was that he knew that even if the other side had any tricks, they couldn't hurt him.

In fact, he had some intention of deliberately luring the other side to attack him, and he was actually on high alert.

Because he now needed an excuse to turn against them, and this excuse was just delivered to him, in front of countless allied soldiers, attempting to hurt people with a hidden arrow, it was reasonable and legal for Viserys to retaliate.

"Roar——"

Balerion's roar made Riverrun tremble.

Then, the huge figure that blocked the sun and the sky swooped down, and a torrent of dragon fire poured down.

Boom——

The dragon fire crazily hit the city wall of Riverrun, and countless allied soldiers let out a terrible scream and were directly burned to ashes.

"Ah ah ah——"

Some soldiers were burning with fire, then jumped from the city wall and fell to their deaths below the city, or jumped into the water, but drowned in the Green Fork.

The soldiers of the alliance had survived the nightmare of the White Walkers' invasion, but they didn't expect to be buried in dragon fire because of the fickleness of human hearts.

And the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms on the city wall, including Tywin Lannister, who is currently acting as the commander of the allied forces, naturally fled from the city wall under the escort of the guards.

"Protect the lord!"

"Quick!"

"Retreat quickly!"

In fact, when the crossbow bolt hit Balerion, but failed to kill the dragon, they knew that things were bad.

If they were a little later, they might have been burned to ashes by the dragon fire.

"Who gave the order?!"

"Why attack the dragon?"

And the man with the Ice Wolf emblem on his chest and brown hair was also enraged.

He hurriedly walked down from the city wall under the escort of the Northern soldiers, and ran into Tywin Lannister, the acting commander of the allied forces.

Then, Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell, strode forward and grabbed Tywin's collar, demanding angrily.

Clang——

Clang——

And the Lannister soldiers behind Tywin saw their lord being grabbed by the collar and threatened, and immediately drew their swords and shouted.

"Stop!"

"Let go of Lord Tywin!"

The soldiers of the Westerlands drew their swords one after another, and the Northern soldiers following Eddard Stark were naturally not afraid.

"What are you doing!"

Although their armor was not as luxurious as the Western soldiers, they were more fiery and brave, so they also drew their long swords.

The scene was instantly filled with the glint and flash of swords, and the atmosphere became tense.

And Tywin, whose collar was grabbed by Eddard Stark, also looked a bit bad. Such an action was a very rude behavior, and it might even cause a duel.

Eddard was usually proud and cold, but rarely had such rude moments. It seemed that he was extremely angry now.

And Tywin didn't know the details of Eddard, but thinking of the latter's record of killing 'Sword of the Morning' Arthur Dayne, he immediately backed down.

He was old and didn't want to fight with young people.

Therefore, Tywin was humiliated, but he could only swallow his anger at the moment and try to talk to Eddard Stark, who was in a rage, as calmly as possible.

"Lord Eddard, could you let me go first?"

Tywin looked at the Duke of Winterfell with his eyes, then said.

And the man with brown hair also looked at him, took a deep breath, and finally reason overcame impulse.

He didn't want to start a civil strife under the current circumstances.

Then Eddard suddenly let go of Tywin's collar, giving the Duke of Casterly Rock a chance to breathe.

"My lord."

"My lord."

The guards quickly supported the somewhat embarrassed Duke Tywin.

And Tywin Lannister slightly waved his hand, took a few deep breaths, adjusted the collar that had just been grabbed, and then spoke with a hoarse voice.

"Lord Eddard."

"Do you think if we don't attack Viserys, he will let us go?"

Tywin's words made Eddard, who was still in a rage, suddenly much calmer.

"You, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, and His Majesty, the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands formed an alliance to overthrow his father's dynasty, driving the Targaryen family from the Iron Throne..."

"I also have the blood of the Targaryen family on my hands."

Tywin's eyes were sharp, and he once again took the initiative to walk in front of Eddard Stark.

This made the Northern soldiers standing behind Eddard Stark tense, and then Tywin continued to question.

"And now he's back."

The slightly balding blonde man pointed outside.

"Do you think he will let us go?"

And Eddard was completely silent. He had just come over in a rage.

His heart even had some expectations that he could try not to conflict with Viserys as much as possible and solve the problem through negotiations.

He was even willing to wear black as a criminal for this, in exchange for Viserys not attacking Westeros.

But now it seems that this road has been blocked from the beginning, and it is even a bit naive.

"So what?"

"Lord Tywin, you tried to hurt people with a hidden arrow in a way that violates honor. What did you get in the end?"

After Eddard calmed down, he asked back. Although he didn't approve of the act of hurting people with a hidden arrow, it was done, but the hidden arrow didn't kill the other party, which was a bit embarrassing.

Boom——

The fire above their heads rushed into the sky, and dragon fire spewed onto the city wall of Riverrun. A large number of allied soldiers screamed, and the two men below also changed their faces at the same time.

"This is my negligence, Lord Eddard."

"I thought the giant crossbow could assassinate the dragon, because the Dornish once killed Meraxes at Hellholt, this is the only way to deal with dragons."

And looking at
the surging dragon fire above his head, Tywin Lannister's face changed slightly, and then he said.

He knew very well that Viserys would never let him go, so he had to take the initiative to surround the allied forces tightly around him, secretly instructing soldiers to launch a giant crossbow in an attempt to assassinate Viserys and his dragon for this reason.

But unfortunately, the giant crossbow didn't do much damage to Balerion. As long as it wasn't like Meraxes being hit directly in the eye, it was like tickling, but it angered the dragon.

And what Tywin didn't expect was that Viserys could actually shatter the crossbow bolt with a single sword.

Is this still a human?

"Now is the best opportunity to defeat Viserys."

"Otherwise, when his three dragons and sixty thousand troops have all crossed the Narrow Sea, we won't have a chance."

Chapter 424: Tywin's Strategy

Tywin's words were not without reason, and Eddard had now completely calmed down. However, the biggest problem at hand was not about making the logic clear, but what to do about the dragon overhead?

Boom——

Another loud noise followed, accompanied by the earth-shaking roar of the dragon in the sky.

The dragon was venting its anger freely, its roar making Riverrun tremble. Apart from the strategic supplies hidden in the cellar, all the giant crossbows placed on the city wall had been burned by dragon fire.

The soldiers of the allied forces also suffered heavy casualties. Some were burned to death directly, or jumped off the city wall and into the river in an attempt to survive.

After losing the only weapon that could threaten the dragon, the counterattack organized by the allied soldiers seemed somewhat weak and powerless against this mythical beast.

Screams rang out as fire continued to pour down.

"Archers!"

"Archers!"

Count Lambert Tallhart of Torrhen's Square was lying in a disheveled state on the battlements, his face blackened by thick smoke.

He looked at the figure of the dragon flying overhead, then waved his hand and shouted loudly.

"Archers, all come here!"

The allied archers around him heard the count's command and all gathered.

Many of the soldiers in the alliance were strong men temporarily recruited, mainly refugees from the North and the Riverlands.

But after the battle with the White Walkers, they had all become veterans.

"Raise your bows!"

Following the count's command, all the allied archers drew their bows and arrows, aiming at the dragon that was constantly circling and spewing fire in the sky.

Balerion happened to dive in this direction again, carrying an unstoppable momentum, the dragon's roar vibrating the eardrums.

"Shit!"

Count Lambert Tallhart's facial muscles twisted in fear, he swallowed a bit of saliva, and then still roared out.

"Kill this beast!"

"Fire!"

Bang, bang, bang——

In an instant, the dense sound of bowstrings was heard, and countless arrows flew towards the diving dragon.

Balerion, facing the dark rain of arrows, roared again without fear.

Ding, ding, ding...

Countless arrows fell on Balerion's hard scales, making a sound of metal collision, but they didn't break the defense at all. Instead, they were directly bounced off and fell to the ground.

Then the dragon slightly opened its huge mouth, and a dazzling red light appeared deep in its throat.

Count Lambert Tallhart and many allied archers below showed desperate expressions.

The next second.

Boom, boom, boom——

A sky-covering dragon fire poured down.

"Ah, ah, ah..."

Count Lambert Tallhart and many allied soldiers let out a terrible scream, their bodies twisted under the surging dragon fire, and in an instant, they turned into charred corpses.

Whoosh~

Then Balerion's figure rose again, sweeping over the city wall, carrying a gale and flying towards the sky.

Now the soldiers of the alliance finally experienced the ordeal of the White Walkers and the Dothraki when facing the dragon.

The other party kept spewing fire in the sky, and the people below were anxious but helpless. Moreover, ordinary arrows and crossbow bolts had no effect on the dragon's thick scales.

This is still when Balerion is not very old, at most considered a 'juvenile dragon', but its size is much larger than its age.

A dragon's life has no growth limit, it will grow with its age, its scales will become thicker and rougher, surpassing steel, and even the crossbow bolts fired by the giant crossbow cannot harm it.

By that time, the dragon will truly become the sky overlord that no one can threaten.

The city wall was like a purgatory on earth, with surging dragon fire and rolling smoke everywhere.

And below the castle.

Splash——

The debris and dust from the ceiling above fell down, and the people under the castle were covered in dust.

"So... what now?"

The straightforward Northerner had somewhat accepted Tywin's point of view, but did not approve of Tywin's way of doing things.

If they really wanted to defeat Viserys, now would be the best opportunity. Otherwise, once his three dragons and sixty thousand troops crossed the Narrow Sea, nothing could stop him.

Tywin, somewhat disheveled, dusted off his body, listened to the dragon's roar overhead, looked up at the castle's ceiling, his eyes serious, took a deep breath, and then spoke.

"Braavos."

"Believe me, Lord Eddard, among the forces in the world that least want to see the resurgence of the Targaryen family, there is Braavos."

"When the Targaryen family was most down and out, it was Braavos who extended a helping hand to them. However, now the Targaryen family has a massive army, dragons, and the support of the people of Pentos, and may even challenge Braavos's position in the trade city-states."

There is probably a proverb in the Free Trade City-States that describes this situation, no one wants to see someone who was weaker than themselves climb on top of their head.

For the people of Braavos, this is a real threat right in front of them, and they have no choice but to pay attention to the Targaryens.

"Braavos?"

Eddard Stark heard Tywin's words, his eyebrows deeply furrowed.

"Lord Tywin, how did you get in touch with Braavos?"

In fact, as one of the oldest and most ancient nobles in Westeros, the Stark family is very traditional.

This is reflected in Eddard, who has a stubborn adherence to honor and a just and strict way of doing things, and rarely actively contacts external forces.

"Do you remember the envoy from the Iron Bank?"

Tywin shook his head and spoke.

Eddard suddenly realized that there had always been an envoy from the Iron Bank following the army in this war, named Tycho Nestoris.

He was also Robert's financial god, the Iron Bank provided a lot of low-interest or even interest-free loans to help the alliance stop the White Walkers.

It seems that Tywin had contacted Braavos through him at some point.

"But Braavos is still too far away."

Eddard, after realizing this, still spoke.

Braavos is thousands of miles away from Riverrun, even if Tywin has already contacted them and Braavos is willing to ally with the Iron Throne.

But the news passed to Sea Lord's Palace and then back, the invincible fleet of Braavos set off, I guess everyone's bodies would have cooled down.

"I have also sent people to contact the Golden Company in advance."

Tywin seemed to still have a plan, it seemed that he had been planning for a long time, and it was definitely not a decision made today.

"This group of mercenaries only recognizes gold, they have no honor or responsibility, as long as we promise them high profits, they will be tempted."

"By then, we will directly capture Rhaegar's daughter and threaten Viserys to retreat."

...

And on Dragonstone, the smoke from the volcano rose, and the figure of the dragon moved through the smoke.

The Targaryen army was stationed on Dragonstone and Tidehead Island, and the banners fluttered in the wind.

At this time, the Unsullied soldiers, on high alert, opened the castle gate.

The commander of the Golden Company, Myles Toyne, was escorting a person and hurriedly entered the castle.

"Princess, we have caught a spy."

Chapter 425: The Spy

When Myles Toyne brought in a small prisoner, Rhaenys was engrossed in a book in a study within the castle of Dragonstone.

This room used to be Viserys's living quarters, and many of his belongings were still preserved.

Stannis, after taking Dragonstone, did not dispose of these books and writings, but left them here. He also used this room as his study, leaving many of his own traces.

Even in many of the books that Viserys had read, Stannis's comments could be found beneath Viserys's annotations and writings.

Including many texts that Stannis could not understand, he marked them, expressing deep confusion in his notes.

Stannis did not recognize these small square characters, but he could guess that they might represent some kind of meaning.

He entrusted Maester Cressen, who had accompanied him to Dragonstone, to research what these characters were.

Maester Cressen took it very seriously, copying these square characters meticulously, albeit somewhat clumsily.

Then he sent a letter to the Citadel, seeking help to find some kind of reference.

Maester Cressen's letter aroused widespread interest among the scholars at the Citadel, because although they were well-versed in ancient and modern knowledge, they had never seen such characters.

They could deduce from some clues that these should be characters carrying some kind of information.

Even because of this, a unique scene was formed in the Citadel, a group of white-haired scholars with their apprentices buried their heads in the library to search for information.

The Citadel had many books, and the scholars had a desire for knowledge, but unfortunately, after going through all the records, they did not find any records about this unique script.

However, they did find a record about the high nobility of Valyria in a book, written by someone over a thousand years ago.

The origin of the high nobility of Valyria is unknown, no one knows how this nation suddenly rose, why they suddenly found a way to control dragons.

And this 'art of dragon control' seems to exist only among the oldest nobility, their bloodline can resonate with the dragons.

The author of this book speculated that there must be some unspeakable secret hidden among these high nobles of Valyria, this secret may unlock the reason why they can control dragons.

Because one scholar, based on the records in this book, boldly speculated that this might be a unique way of communication among the oldest nobility of Valyria, a special kind of script.

He was willing to name it 'Morlas language', but unfortunately, he was stopped by other scholars.

And Stannis noted on Viserys's mysterious notes that he suspected it was the language of the First Men.

The brown-haired girl, wearing a gorgeous plain dress, wearing a golden crown, bathed in the sunlight from the window, slightly raised her delicate chin, her fair hands holding this book, reading it with interest.

She had just finished dealing with some military affairs today, another batch of grain and supplies had sailed from Pentos and arrived at Dragonstone.

Although the Targaryen army occupied Dragonstone, they did not immediately send troops to attack King's Landing due to the temporary cooperation against the White Walkers.

But Rhaenys did not stop during this time, but seized the time to build a military transport channel between Pentos and Dragonstone.

Thanks to the frequent trade between the two places, this route is considered the main trade route with the most frequent trade between Westeros and Essos, and it is not difficult to build a supply channel.

Rhaenys also received a letter from her uncle today, Oberyn's second army has arrived at the port of Pentos, ready to board the ship to leave Pentos for Westeros, and may now be on the way.

At this time.

There was a rush of footsteps outside the study in the castle, an Unsullied soldier standing outside the study door stopped them, then walked in to report.

"Princess."

It turned out to be Myles Toyne, the commander of the Golden Company. The soldiers of the Golden Company caught nine spies who were secretly approaching Dragonstone by boat on the beach of Dragonstone.

They were wearing ragged clothes, all soaked by seawater. After drying slightly, there was a thin layer of salt crystals twisted together on the clothes. They were all thin and haggard, their hair messy like bird nests.

The boat they were riding was too small, so it escaped the patrol of the Dragonstone fleet. However, they did not expect that when they approached Dragonstone, the boat accidentally hit a reef and leaked, and all the people on the boat were soaked in seawater.

Then they had to abandon the boat and jump into the sea to swim towards the coast that was not far away. Fortunately, they were all lucky and managed to swim to the shore, collapsing on the beach with only half a life left.

However, their luck ran out, a patrol of Golden Company soldiers found them, and then took them to the commander.

Then after Myles Toyne found out their identities, he brought one of them to the castle of Dragonstone to meet the princess.

"A spy?"

The girl bathing in the sunlight at the window put down the book in her hand slightly when she heard Myles Toyne's words, and her beautiful eyes looked over.

This was the second spy incident in recent times. Last time, a man claiming to be a representative of the Lannister family tried to persuade the Golden Company to betray the Targaryens, directly detaining Rhaenys as a hostage, threatening Viserys to retreat.

However, what this representative of the Lannister family did not know was that the castle of Dragonstone was heavily guarded, easy to defend and hard to attack. Two thousand Unsullied were Rhaenys's personal guards stationed in various parts of the castle, it could be said to be impregnable.

Even if ten thousand soldiers of the Golden Company betrayed, it would be difficult to take the castle of Dragonstone, not to mention that Rhaenys also had the help of dragons, even if the war was unfavorable, she could ride the dragon and escape at any time.

Therefore, the Lannister family's plot was fundamentally impossible to achieve.

And the 'spy' brought by Myles Toyne...

Rhaenys blinked, the other party was not tall, seemed to be the size of a child, with short legs and not a good-looking face, one eye black and one green, especially noticeable was his disproportionately large head.

The brown-haired girl sat in her place, the golden crown on her head slightly reflecting the light, then she couldn't help but blurt out.

"Why is your head so big?"

Chapter 426: The Price of Tyrion

As Rhaenys's words left her mouth, the man opposite her seemed slightly embarrassed.

After an explanation from Myles Toyne, she came to understand that the diminutive dwarf before her was the infamous 'Imp' of House Lannister.

It was said that he had visited every brothel in the Seven Kingdoms, though these rumors were likely exaggerated.

However, it was universally known that Tyrion Lannister was not a well-liked figure.

Tyrion was sharp-tongued and ruthless, often using the power of House Lannister to oppress others. This might have been due to his unique upbringing, but his reputation was not good, to the point where even Myles Toyne had heard of him.

As Rhaenys listened to Myles Toyne's explanation, her beautiful eyes flickered with interest. Her seemingly whimsical question earlier was actually for another purpose.

But upon hearing that he was a Lannister, the girl's gaze became dangerous.

The Lannisters had the blood of her kin on their hands, a fact she had known since she was very young.

Although Rhaenys had forgotten what her parents and brother looked like, she had not forgotten this grudge.

"Kill him," Rhaenys said, her brow furrowing slightly. She didn't ask any more questions, but simply gave the order.

Tyrion, however, was terrified by Rhaenys's words. He had escaped death in the dungeons of Casterly Bay, not to have his head chopped off upon arriving at Dragonstone.

In fact, given the choice, he wouldn't have chosen to come here at all, but he had no say in the matter. The group wanted to find Viserys, and in order to survive, he had to follow them.

But Tyrion's distinctive appearance made him instantly recognizable in the Seven Kingdoms. He was no exception this time.

While Bannen, Elissa Thorne, and Yoren were also temporarily detained, they were treated well, given fresh clothes, and allowed to bathe.

Only Tyrion was brought here, and without much conversation, the order was given to behead him.

"Your Grace!"

"Your Grace!"

"Please wait!"

Hearing that Rhaenys was about to execute him, Tyrion was filled with terror and couldn't help but shout out.

"May I say one thing, Princess?"

"Just one thing, then you can behead or hang me as you please."

Tyrion's voice was urgent, as he racked his brains to survive.

Rhaenys, hearing his plea, didn't relax her furrowed brow, but nodded slightly and said softly, "You may."

But she added, "Remember, Tyrion, you only have one sentence to change my mind."

Tyrion, hearing this, breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he was allowed to speak, there was hope for survival.

What Tyrion feared most were those who didn't say a word and whose intentions were clear: they wanted him dead.

Like his own father, Tywin Lannister.

His intentions were clear, without any warning or conversation, he suddenly had Tyrion captured and tied up in a dungeon, hoping to feed him to the wights, and even use his corpse to regain some reputation.

"My own father wanted to kill me, but he failed," Tyrion said after a moment of thought, finally finding the most appropriate words. He took a deep breath and spoke.

His words indeed caught Rhaenys's attention.

She had been prepared to hear his last words and then order his execution, but she didn't expect Tyrion to say something like this.

"Why did your father want to kill you?" Rhaenys couldn't help but ask.

She knew that the murderer of her kin was not Tyrion, but his father, Tywin Lannister. Tyrion was just a child at that time.

Tyrion, hearing her continue the conversation, relaxed completely.

The princess was willing to listen, which meant there was a chance.

Tyrion was very smart. As soon as he was brought here, he had subtly figured out who this important person he was going to meet was.

He knew a lot about the Targaryen family across the Narrow Sea, as he once considered them his biggest rivals. He knew they would never let the Lannisters off the hook.

But now Tyrion realized how ridiculous his thoughts were.

The most unlikely enemy who would let them off was willing to listen to his explanation, while his own father, without a word, had tied him up and tried to get rid of him by using the wights. He even hoped to use his body to regain some reputation.

"Because I was born a damned dwarf!" Tyrion answered decisively.

"I killed my own mother at birth, I am a disgrace to the family... perhaps there are even more bullshit reasons!"

The Imp, his hands tightly bound, took a couple of steps in front of Rhaenys, his gaze sweeping the room. Not seeing his beloved wine, he sighed regretfully.

A conversation like this should have a jug of wine.

An Unsullied soldier in the room looked at Tyrion, his voice cold. "Mind your language when speaking to the princess."

"Understood," Tyrion replied, raising his bound hands and shrugging at the Unsullied to show he got the message.

"My father wanted to feed me to the wights for that reason, to avenge my mother and get rid of the family's disgrace."

"Two birds with one stone."

"My father loves doing things like that."

"If Your Grace doesn

't believe me, you can ask around. If I'm not mistaken, news of my death is already circulating in many parts of the Seven Kingdoms."

"The heir to House Lannister, the future Duke of Casterly Rock, the 'Halfman' who is only three or four feet tall, died bravely on the battlefield of Casterly Bay."

"House Lannister is indeed full of loyal and brave souls," Tyrion said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rhaenys, hearing his words, turned her head to look at Myles Toyne, who nodded slightly in confirmation.

When he first captured Tyrion, he had some doubts because news of Tyrion's death had indeed been circulating in the Seven Kingdoms. But it turned out that Tyrion wasn't dead, but had been thrown onto the battlefield by his own father to die.

Myles Toyne nodded, and Rhaenys understood. Her gaze returned to Tyrion.

"Your father's sins are indeed not your responsibility."

"But your father killed my kin, and it's only right that I kill his son. What do you offer in exchange for your life?"

Tyrion seemed prepared for this, and immediately replied, "King's Landing!"

"Princess, I am willing to take King's Landing for you in exchange for my worthless life."

Chapter 427: Rampage of the Iron Hooves

Year 293 AC.

Mankind had triumphed over the White Walkers, achieving a fleeting victory.

However, the largest alliance in human history quickly disintegrated after their victory, plunging into civil war.

King Robert was struck by an arrow on the battlefield and fell into a coma from which he did not awaken. Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West, who was temporarily leading the allied forces, dishonorably fired crossbow bolts at the reinforcements from Pentos, attempting to kill Viserys and his dragon.

But Tywin's scheme failed, instead provoking Viserys's wrath.

The Dothraki horsemen surrounded one side of Riverrun, vowing to slaughter these treacherous people. The dragon spewed flames, relentlessly assaulting the walls of Riverrun, causing heavy casualties among the allied soldiers.

Not until the dragonfire destroyed the walls and blasted open the oak gates did the Dothraki horsemen charge in with their piercing war cries, forcing the alliance to abandon Riverrun.

They destroyed the stone bridge over the river with wildfire to prevent the Dothraki from pursuing, and the army retreated towards the Twins.

The curtain fell on the third Battle of Riverrun.

In the following war, the Dothraki were unstoppable in the flat terrain of the Riverlands, chasing the allied forces relentlessly.

The coastal towns along the way, already deserted due to the White Walker attacks, and other towns like Greywater Watch surrendered without resistance, bending the knee to Viserys.

Fairmarket, originally a peaceful and prosperous town located along the Blue Fork, was targeted by the Dothraki army due to its wooden bridge that crossed the river, shattering its tranquility.

In the morning sunlight.

Clip-clop, clip-clop...

A Dothraki cavalry scout unit appeared on the opposite bank of the Blue Fork. Their numbers were not large, and their hoofbeats were chaotic.

These Dothraki halted their horses on the opposite bank, seemingly observing something, while loudly speaking in their incomprehensible language.

The people in the market had not yet received the news and did not understand what was about to happen. They only felt that these people looked strange, with their faces and bodies painted with bizarre colors.

Then, more and more Dothraki began to appear on the opposite bank of the Blue Fork, their eyes revealing a fierce light. The residents of Fairmarket realized that something was terribly wrong.

Due to the distance from Riverrun, the residents had not evacuated, and they knew very little about the news from the front line. The alliance took another route in their hasty retreat to the Twins, while the path of the Dothraki pursuit happened to pass through this town.

The townsfolk and mercenaries spontaneously organized a defense force to resist the Dothraki attack, but their efforts were like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

"Roar, roar, roar!"

The Dothraki let out sharp cries.

Boom, boom, boom...

The hoofbeats thundered across the wooden bridge and into Fairmarket, their curved blades easily reaping the lives of the people.

"Hold them back!"

"Hold them back!"

A retired old mercenary was elected from the defense force to command the battle, but he was barely able to utter a few words before an arrow accurately hit his throat.

Thud...

The old mercenary clutched his throat, struggled a few times, and his body fell from the makeshift wall.

The Dothraki hooves trampled on the town's roads. Faced with these fierce horsemen, the hastily assembled guards of Fairmarket were as fragile as paper, easily pierced.

Merchants, farmers, mercenaries, and others who frequented the market were fleeing in all directions, heads rolling on the ground.

This symbolized that the prosperous town in the Riverlands had been officially breached by the Dothraki, turning into a living hell.

In the chaotic Fairmarket.

Bang...

The door of a tightly closed civilian house was suddenly kicked open, immediately followed by the shrieks of women and the crying of children.

The Dothraki warrior holding a curved blade heard the woman's shriek and a ferocious smile appeared on his face.

He then strode towards the source of the sound, seeing a mother and son huddled trembling by the bed.

"Heh..."

"os!"

He spoke in the incomprehensible Dothraki language, while the red-haired woman in the room clutched a dagger tightly, pointing it at him nervously, protecting her son behind her, not intending to sit and wait for death.

"Stop!"

"What... what are you going to do?"

The woman clutched the dagger, gathering her courage to question loudly.

However, facing this Andal woman trying to resist, the Dothraki warrior's ferocious smile did not fade in the slightest. Instead, he opened his arms to reveal his strong chest under the animal skin armor.

He spoke in the incomprehensible Dothraki language, slowly approaching the woman, even discarding the blood-stained curved blade in his hand, unarmed.

He had just used this blade to take the lives of three Andal people.

"You... stop, stay there!"

The woman, seeing him gradually approaching, became even more nervous.

She didn't know if he understood her words, but the muscular Dothraki man with dark brown skin in front of her showed no intention of stopping.

The woman closed her eyes, gathered her courage, and stabbed the dagger towards the Dothraki man's chest, but he easily dodged it.

The plains warrior grabbed the woman's wrist, twisted the dagger out of her hand, roughly tore her clothes, and raped her on the bed in front of her child.

A staggering hedge knight who had escaped from somewhere saw this scene, roared, and pounced.

"Die!"

Taking advantage of the Dothraki man's defenseless state, he stabbed a sword through the warrior's chest from behind, killing him.

"Quick! Come with me!"

The hedge knight pulled the woman and child to escape, but unfortunately, this kind-hearted hedge knight was just leading the mother and child out of the room when a passing Dothraki on horseback slit his throat.

Thud...

Blood splattered on the ground.

And such scenes were being played out all over the town. The entire Fairmarket turned into a living hell.

The innkeeper at the crossroads was hanged from a tree, his son tried to resist but was easily killed by the Dothraki, his body gutted and thrown in the courtyard.

The inn's maids were unfortunate, carried away on shoulders as spoils of war in the eyes of the Dothraki.

The inn's cook was forced to prepare food to entertain these invaders who were slightly tired after the slaughter.

"Heh!"

"Heh!"

Several ropes were accurately thrown around the neck of the Father's statue, the Dothraki shouted slogans, and then collectively dragged down the statues of the Seven Gods in the sept, smashing them to pieces.

If it weren't for the fact that the Dothraki knew that transporting these statues across the 'poison water' to Vaes Dothrak was not convenient, they would definitely take the statues of the Seven Gods back to the holy city.

After the turmoil of Fairmarket's fall, a flame gradually lit up, then turned into a raging fire, the flames reaching the sky.

Chapter 428: Changing the Battle Plan

Whooosh~

Half a day later, the silhouette of a dragon descended from the sky.

Viserys had gone to pursue the defeated allied forces, but he hadn't expected such a turn of events. Maidenpool had been subjected to a Dothraki sack.

Looking at the town that had been reduced to ruins, with unextinguished flames still billowing smoke, Viserys's expression turned somewhat grim.

"Blood of my blood."

Khal Drogo, as one of Viserys's bloodriders, knew things had taken a bad turn.

He had lived in Volantis, Lys, Tyrosh, and other places for many years, understanding the rules of these 'civilized world' humans.

Sacking towns was commonplace for the Dothraki, but for these people, it was a serious event.

Drogo hadn't known about this in advance, otherwise he might have asked his kinsmen to restrain themselves a bit. The vanguard of the Khalasar had taken it upon themselves to attack this town, and by the time Drogo and the main force arrived, Maidenpool had already been reduced to ruins.

Even though he hadn't known about this in advance, as the commander, he couldn't shirk responsibility for what had happened. Therefore, Drogo had bound his hands, removed his upper garment, and knelt in the tent, awaiting the Khal's judgment.

Viserys lifted the curtain and walked in, having already learned of the cause and effect.

"Khal."

"Khal."

The Dothraki on both sides, who had been whispering among themselves, saw their Khal walk in and quickly shut their mouths.

They didn't understand why Drogo was doing this. Sacking towns was a matter of course for them, and the idea of treating enemies kindly had never crossed their minds.

This was the reward for warriors going to war. After all, the Dothraki didn't have any kind of military pay, and the looting and killing after a city's fall was the only way to inspire the warriors to fight bravely.

Moreover, they hadn't killed everyone. Strong men were made slaves, women were taken as spoils of war, and as for children, the Dothraki had their own rules: children below the height of a cart wheel were spared.

But since Drogo had bound his hands and knelt on the ground awaiting punishment, the rest of the Dothraki were watching to see how the Khal would deal with him.

Viserys entered the tent, removed his gray wolf-skin cloak and handed it to a guard. He stood in front of Drogo, silent for a moment, but he didn't punish Drogo in the name of justice.

Instead, he reached out and took an arakh from a Dothraki's hand, and with a swift stroke, cut the ropes binding Drogo's hands.

The Khal's action immediately elicited cheers from all the Dothraki present.

Not just because the Khal had forgiven his bloodrider, but also because of Viserys's superb martial skills. The Dothraki admired such masters.

"Rise, Drogo."

"This is not your fault."

"But let it not happen again."

Viserys helped Drogo up from the ground, patting the Dothraki's shoulder, which elicited a look of sincere fear and respect.

In fact, this incident wasn't really Drogo's fault. It was a Dothraki tradition to loot and kill after a city's fall.

Viserys was more reflecting on his own mistake. His Dothraki were too obedient, so much so that he had forgotten that this nomadic people were very fierce, even destroyers of civilization on the continent of Essos.

Although he could make the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms surrender through bloody conquest, Viserys didn't want to inherit a Westeros full of wounds. Otherwise, after killing all the people of the Seven Kingdoms, having the Iron Throne would be of no use.

Viserys slightly comforted Drogo, but what he was thinking about was the next arrangement for the Dothraki.

They should appear more on the battlefield rather than directly attacking and occupying cities, otherwise, it would be a nightmare for the local people.

This was a sharp double-edged sword. If used well, it was a nightmare for all enemies, but if not handled properly, it could even hurt oneself. However, right now, Viserys only had the Dothraki, so he could only use them.

The Targaryen army defeated the allied forces at the Twins. The allied forces escaped to Riverrun using wildfire to cover their retreat. Although Viserys had a full cavalry lineup, the pursuit along the way was not very tight.

He mainly recaptured the towns along the way, and there was a bit of Viserys's own consideration in it: gather more enemies, then wipe them all out in one go.

Viserys had just ridden his dragon to chase the allied forces, and from the sky, he saw that the allied forces had now retreated in the direction of Raventree Hall, while the Dothraki army had reached Maidenpool. The distance between the two sides, one retreating and the other advancing, was not far.

Actually, his original plan was to attack Westeros from the north and south with Rhaenys.

He led the Dothraki to mainly deal with the enemies in the north, while Rhaenys led the Golden Company and the Unsullied, in cooperation with Dorne, to attack the enemy's main base, King's Landing, Storm's End, and even Highgarden.

However, his plan was forced to change after receiving a letter last night.

The letter came from Pentos and was written by his fiancée, Arianne Martell.

The Dornish girl told Viserys in the letter that she was pregnant with his child. She didn't know if it was a little prince or a little princess, but whether it was a boy or a girl, she liked it. Two months had already passed.

Viserys was slightly surprised when he received the letter. He hadn't expected that he was going to be a father. However, thinking about his time in Pentos, where Arianne had even actively sent her friend Tyene to Viserys's bed, it was a good thing that Tyene hadn't given him a big gift.

Although in this world, having a bastard is a very common thing, Viserys didn't want to have a bastard before he had a legitimate heir. The contraceptive measures in this world are very poor, but he did intend to pay some attention.

However, the news of Arianne's pregnancy, although it surprised Viserys a bit, was not something very difficult to accept. The usual nervousness and panic for ordinary people lasted only a very short time for him.

The first thing Viserys thought of after calming down was to adjust the battle plan. The previous two-line battle plan was temporarily shelved under these special circumstances.

When Arianne wrote this letter, she was already preparing to sail to Westeros, following her uncle Oberyn's army.

And a long time had passed when Viserys received this letter.

That night.

The tent was brightly lit, with a blazing fire burning in the brazier. Viserys summoned the main leaders of the Dothraki and the Uns
ullied, and determined the next battle route.

"First, take Riverrun and defeat the main force of the allied forces."

"Then go along the Kingsroad, and meet up in King's Landing."

A few days later.

There seemed to be a disagreement within the allied forces, and a part of the Vale soldiers left the main force, heading towards the Inn at the Crossroads along the Kingsroad.

And Robert Baratheon, the king who had been in a coma for a month, finally woke up. A group of allied generals were sitting around the king's bed.

But at this moment, a horn sounded outside Riverrun.

An endless Dothraki army appeared outside the city, surrounding Riverrun.

Chapter 429: The Siege of Riverrun

Robert had never imagined that he would wake up after more than a month, let alone find himself in Riverrun.

His thoughts were still stuck a month ago, when his beloved, the woman he loved most in his life, shot an arrow at him.

Robert didn't even know to dodge at the time, just sitting stunned on his warhorse. Then the ice arrow hit his right chest, and he fell to the ground.

"I saw Lyanna, Ned," Robert, pale-faced, suddenly spoke from his sickbed.

He saw the many people standing by his side, his good brother Ned, his own brother Stannis, his father-in-law Tywin, the Duke of Riverrun, Hoster Tully, and many other high-ranking nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.

The room was full of people, some even standing outside. He thought the White Walkers had wiped them out, and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms had gathered in the seven hells.

Robert's sudden words made the worried Ned Stark slightly stunned.

"What are you talking about, Robert..."

The allied forces had repelled the White Walkers, but suffered a painful defeat in the Battle of the Twins, losing most of the Riverlands and retreating to Riverrun in disgrace. Naturally, Ned's face was full of worry.

But hearing what Robert suddenly said, Ned was stunned for a moment, then looked up at Robert, only to find that Robert, known as the 'true steel' of the Baratheon brothers, was already in tears.

Tywin Lannister, standing behind Stannis, looked a bit uncomfortable when he heard his son-in-law's words.

Who was Lyanna?

Many of the nobles present knew that Lyanna Stark, who had the 'blood of the running wolf', was the true love of His Majesty the King.

In the spring of 281 AC, during the Targaryen dynasty, Prince Rhaegar, after winning the tournament at Harrenhal, placed the crown of winter roses, symbolizing the 'queen of love and beauty', on the knee of Robert Baratheon's fiancée, Lyanna Stark, rather than his wife, Princess Elia Martell of Dorne.

Prince Rhaegar's public humiliation caused a huge uproar.

Not long after the tournament, Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark both disappeared.

Some people thought that Prince Rhaegar had kidnapped and raped Robert's fiancée, Lyanna Stark, and Robert himself thought so. There was also a theory that Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna were in love and eloped together.

The affair of Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna led to a civil war in the Seven Kingdoms, which eventually led to the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty. Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, the star-crossed lovers, both died in this war, going to the underworld together.

For Robert Baratheon, even if he took King's Landing and ascended to the Iron Throne, he still couldn't forget Lyanna, but Lyanna had been dead for many years. How could His Majesty the King see her again?

Did His Majesty have hallucinations during his coma?

Or was His Majesty severely injured, walked at the gate of the ghost, and saw the soul of Lyanna who had already died?

However, at this moment, these things are no longer important to Ned.

Viserys defeated them, swept half of the Riverlands, and although Viserys's attack was very fast, the land he invaded was still in the final stages of war, with sporadic Riverlands soldiers still resisting, but the Dothraki army was already at the city gate.

Riverrun is not very large, but it is a rare fortress. When attacked, it can open the gates to let water fill the entire man-made moat. Plus, Riverrun itself is surrounded by rivers on two sides. After releasing the water, it becomes a small island surrounded by water on three sides, impregnable.

The Dothraki's horses cannot wade through the rushing river, and after a long journey, they are tired. When Viserys led the army to the outskirts of Riverrun, he immediately ordered to set up camp and rest for a while.

Thud, thud—

A few arrows were shot from the city, seemingly from Riverrun soldiers who had not witnessed Viserys's single-handed provocation under the Twins, and even shattered the giant crossbow bolt with a sword.

Only one arrow fell on the grass not far from Viserys, and the rest of the arrows fell into the rushing river.

The silver-haired knight in bright armor glanced at the arrow next to him, then looked up at the nervous soldiers on Riverrun.

"Later, use an arrow to send a letter, telling the people in the city to surrender or die."

"Let's go."

Then Viserys didn't say much, but turned his horse's head and returned to the camp with his guards.

And in Riverrun.

After everyone's explanations, Robert finally understood that he was still alive, and these people were not all here to accompany him.

The current situation has changed drastically from what Robert knew.

Robert was once in a desperate situation, being attacked by the White Walkers from both sides, and was about to be wiped out.

But he didn't expect to wake up, the White Walkers were defeated, the allied forces turned against Viserys, and then were defeated by Viserys, and now they have fled to Riverrun.

Riverrun is not large, and a large number of allied forces are even stationed on the opposite bank of the Red Fork.

When he fully understood what was happening, Robert, lying in bed, did not rage as usual, but was silent for a while, then asked.

"Can Riverrun hold?"

Everyone in the room was silent, and no one answered the king's question.

"We must hold, Your Majesty."

At this time, Landon Tully, the Earl of Angle, spoke with a hoarse and low voice.

His shiny head was left with only one ear, and the other ear was gnawed off in the fight against the White Walkers.

"The son of the Mad King has madness in his blood. His barbarians have burned countless villages and slaughtered countless people. The dragon's fire has killed many soldiers."

"If we can't defeat him, the ancient family bloodlines of the Starks, Tullys, Lannisters, Tyrells... and so on will be cut off, and the Seven Kingdoms will also be destroyed in his hands."

Landon Tully's voice was low. His eyes were bright, and every family he named was more or less uncomfortable, but they remained silent.

"Lords, think about what he did in the East."

Finally, Landon Tully looked around at everyone, and then warned.

His words seemed to be the point, making everyone present slightly shudder.

Chapter 430: The Sword of Change

Consider what Viserys has done on the continent of Essos...

All the nobles present wore grave expressions.

Why would Randyll Tarly warn the nobles present? Because anyone with a clear mind could see that the changes Viserys had made in Essos were uprooting the foundations of all the noble families!

Therefore, the ancient families that Randyll Tarly named, some of which had existed for thousands or even tens of thousands of years, and some of which had been around since the First Men fought the Children of the Forest, could potentially be wiped out by Viserys' changes.

This is also why, despite Viserys' powerful forces, he still encountered fierce resistance in his unification of Westeros, with no nobles surrendering to him.

If it weren't for these changes, perhaps half of the Seven Kingdoms would have already surrendered by now.

But Viserys' changes were too threatening, making the nobles fear and even despise him.

Viserys' changes in Essos mainly took two forms.

The first was land reform, dividing the large estates into many small plots and giving the common people a lot of opportunities to rise through military merit.

Anyone could be knighted and rewarded with a small plot of land for their military achievements, becoming a true landed noble.

The second was the revocation of the traditional nobles' autonomy. In the past, nobles had absolute rule over their own lands.

They could even enact their own laws, levy armies, collect taxes, and wage wars at will.

Two noble families could fight each other under the kingdom's system, and their liege lord could mediate between them, or watch them fight to mutual destruction, thereby consolidating his own influence.

Even the king of the Seven Kingdoms was just a nominal overlord, in reality, a big noble.

If his vassals rebelled, his title of king would become meaningless. The situation of the vassals being strong and the monarch being weak occurred from time to time.

Therefore, Viserys, knowing the drawbacks of the Westerosi noble system, saw the long-standing nobility as the biggest obstacle to social development. From the time he began to build his power, he started to reform this place, carefully designing a system suitable for this world's unique culture.

The newly promoted nobles were all originally commoners or hedge knights, so naturally, they had no objections or resistance to the changes.

But for the traditional nobles of Westeros, especially those old noble families that had been around for thousands of years, Viserys' changes were like a knife cutting into their arteries.

All military power was taken over by the king, and taxes had to be paid to the national treasury according to a certain proportion. What was left was the nobles' own, who had become local officials.

Some even jumped up and down, cursing that Viserys was cutting off all the nobles' roots, that his madness was even worse than his father's. But the person who said this had already committed suicide by jumping into a river.

Viserys' changes were like a sword hanging over all the nobles' heads, which might fall at any time.

Therefore, at this time when the war situation is not completely clear, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms will not easily surrender and allow themselves to be slaughtered.

Randyll Tarly's words made the determination of those present, which had been somewhat wavering, firm again.

"Yes, that's right."

"I agree."

"I'm in favor."

They must unite to resist Viserys.

This is a matter of the survival of the family, and they don't want to become the sinners in the history of the family.

"Gentlemen, think about it."

"Those filthy mudlegs, those serfs, will sit in the hall with us in the future."

"We even have to politely call them 'my lord'?"

"But he can't even use a knife and fork, because his whore of a mother has been eating with her hands since he was born!"

The elderly, white-haired Lord of Redfort, Horton Redfort, spoke out in a hoarse voice.

"Impossible!"

"There can never be such a day."

His words were immediately echoed by Matthos Rowan, the Lord of Goldengrove, who was dressed in full military uniform, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and spoke out with a serious expression.

Although Lord Rowan was widely loved, he took a clear stand on this issue, representing the interests of the great nobility.

Nobles are nobles, they are born noble, and commoners are commoners, they are born with a lowly fate.

"Just thinking about such a scene makes one nauseous."

Another noble in the room shook his head and joined in the commotion.

"If that's the case, my dog can also be called 'my lord'."

"I'll go back and ask my horse if it wants to be a 'my lord'."

The room burst into laughter, and the previously tense atmosphere was swept away.

Standing in front of the king's bed, the usually stern Stannis couldn't help but laugh at these words, shaking his head slightly.

"It's absurd."

"Old Walder Frey, the Lord of the Crossing, is right. Viserys is indeed the son of the Mad King, and he is even crazier than his father."

How could nobles possibly mix with commoners?

Randyll Tarly's words seemed to ignite the atmosphere among the allied nobles, and everyone became indignant, thinking that Viserys dared to do this was simply crazier than his father, the Mad King.

Even
many nobles wanted to speak in front of Robert but didn't.

But they wanted to say that if Viserys wanted them to surrender, he would have to fight for it at the negotiating table, let Westeros keep its 'noble tradition', and not be affected by the changes in Essos, otherwise, they, the nobles, would rather fight to the last man.

In the room, only Tywin, Ned, and Robert on the sickbed did not laugh.

Tywin was still considering the current crisis, Ned was thinking about what Robert had just said.

Robert, however, was the one who could empathize the most. Viserys was doing what every king wanted to do.

But due to the daunting resistance, no king dared to try to break the wheel of noble rule and change to a more powerful, more unified centralization system.

If Viserys really succeeded, he might become a figure like Aegon the Conqueror, Brandon the Builder, or the Grey King, whose names will be remembered for all time.

Robert's expression was slightly dazed, and the arrow wound on his right chest was still throbbing.

And the next day.

At dawn in Riverrun, the horn suddenly sounded.

The endless Dothraki began to move at dawn.

But they did not attack the impregnable Riverrun, but bypassed the river and charged directly at the allied camp outside Riverrun.

"Roar~"

Thousands of horses galloped on the ground, and the Dothraki let out a howl, charging over.

Last night, Viserys sent a letter to Riverrun demanding their surrender, handing over Robert Baratheon, Tywin, and Ned Stark, among other criminals.

But he was firmly rejected by the old Duke of Riverrun, Hoster Tully.

And told Viserys that he should take his barbarians and dragons and get out of Westeros forever, or they would kill the dragons and these barbarians.

And Viserys promised the Duke of Riverrun, the protector of the Riverlands, that the Tully family line would be cut off, Riverrun would become ruins, and disappear forever in the river of history.

Chapter 431: The Battle of Riverrun

"Form up!"

"Form up!"

Faced with the overwhelming onslaught of Dothraki cavalry, a flurry of orders echoed throughout the allied camp by the Red Fork. The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms swore to resist the attack of dragons and barbarians, acting as defenders of the civilized world, protecting the traditional glory of Westeros.

The Dothraki's attack methods were flexible and varied, like a predator stalking its prey, constantly wearing down their nerves until they were exhausted, then biting their necks in one swift move.

"Roar~"

The Dothraki, riding their horses and brandishing their arakhs, circled the allied formation, continuously letting out piercing howls, exerting immense psychological pressure on the allied soldiers.

The dragon hovering in the sky, its wings flapping as it flew over the heads of the allied forces, left them trembling in fear.

Thud—

Thud—

The sound of bowstrings echoed from within the allied formation. Two giant crossbow bolts were launched into the sky with a sharp noise, but they missed their target by a mile.

Whoosh~

The black dragon, Balerion, spread its wings and soared in the sky. It was far from the ground, and the aim of the giant crossbows was largely left to chance. To hit the dragon, one had to predict its position in advance and judge the impact of the high-altitude wind on the crossbow bolts, with luck playing a significant role.

In fact, the best opportunity to hit the dragon with a giant crossbow would be when the dragon swoops down to breathe fire. The closer the distance, the higher the chance of hitting the dragon and the greater the damage caused.

A dozen giant crossbows firing at close range might hit Balerion with one or two bolts.

This was how they caught the enemy off guard in the previous Battle of the Twins, but unfortunately, they did not hit the dragon's vital points. The other parts covered with thick scales, even if pierced by a crossbow bolt, could hardly cause much damage, just like being pricked by a needle, utterly useless.

The allied forces' use of giant crossbows to launch bolts was also a kind of probe, hoping to scare off the dragon.

But unfortunately, Balerion showed no fear, instead, it seemed to stir up some unpleasant memories.

"Heh—"

The dragon soared in the sky, letting out a deep roar that echoed far and wide.

On the ground, Viserys rode a snow-white warhorse, its fur as smooth as satin, its large body and strong thighs, and its eyes bright and spirited.

This warhorse had been with Viserys for many years, but since Viserys could ride dragons into battle, he had rarely fought alongside this companion.

Today, Viserys decided to personally join the battle, letting Balerion act freely.

Whoo—

The desolate horn sounded in the distance, and the white horse under Viserys seemed a bit eager to try.

He wore a bright Valyrian steel armor, holding a pure steel lance in his hand, which he thumped lightly on the ground, stirring up dust.

His power had long surpassed the extraordinary, and now it was close to the next realm. The wooden lance used by ordinary people naturally no longer suited him, and he didn't need to use the lance to unload force. A lance of several dozen pounds of pure steel was just as easy for him to wield.

"Khal."

Khal Drogo, who followed Viserys, wore a beast skin armor, his legs tightly clamped to the horse's belly. He held a Valyrian steel arakh in his hand and a bow and arrows on his back. His warhorse also seemed a bit eager to try.

Drogo turned his head to look at Viserys next to him, and Viserys, looking at the distance, pulled the reins of his warhorse and finally nodded slightly.

The next second.

Whoo~

The horn in the Dothraki camp finally sounded.

"Roar~"

The Dothraki surrounding the allied camp from all sides rushed towards the central allied formation, coming like a surging tide.

Rumble—

The galloping of horse hooves vibrated the eardrums, and the earth was slightly trembling. The allied soldiers, having formed their formation and holding their spears and shields tightly, swallowed a mouthful of saliva. They felt the pebbles in the grass under their feet were lightly jumping.

"All men!"

"Raise your shields!"

Tywin Lannister, dressed in dark gold armor and a red cloak, rode his horse inspecting the line, personally directing the battle.

The king was still resting in Riverrun, and the acting commander was naturally Tywin Lannister. His face was serious and meticulous, showing no fear at all, his red cloak fluttering in the wind.

"Raise your shields!"

"Raise your spears!"

And not far away, on the walls of Riverrun, surrounded by water on three sides.

"Your Grace, please be careful."

As the Lord of the Riverlands, Hoster Tully, the Duke of Riverrun, climbed onto the city wall with the help of his guards.

Watching the barbarians rushing towards the distant allied forces, his face looked a bit unsightly.

"These barbarians..."

He had not personally experienced the war between humans and the Others, so he was somewhat unclear about Viserys's strength.

Edmure did tell him, but as people get old, they become stubborn, and the old duke didn't listen.

After he said those harsh words yesterday, he actually regretted it a bit. His original intention was to show the integrity of the Tully family and, by the way, to get some more chips at the negotiation table in the future.

After all, Riverrun is easy to defend and hard to attack. It only needs two hundred men to resist the attack of tens of thousands of soldiers. Moreover, Riverrun has a large amount of supplies stored that can sustain people and horses for two years.

What's more, there are tens of thousands of allied forces helping to defend the city now, and their number is more than twice that of the Mad King's son.

Hoster Tully doesn't think the allied forces will lose, at least they won't lose too badly.

However, today he climbed onto the city wall and saw a dragon for the first time.

"Heh—"

Balerion let out a roar, then swooped down from the sky. Dozens of giant crossbows on the ground fired bolts at the same time, but they all missed.

Rumble—

Then the surging dragon flame hit the ground, and the formation formed by the allied forces was instantly shattered by the dragon flame.

"Roar~"

The rushing Dothraki let out a howl, waving their arakhs, and rushed in through the gap torn open by the dragon.

Clang clang...

Everywhere was the sound of metal collision.

Puff—

A Dothraki cut open the throat of a Lannister soldier in red and black armor with his arakh, and the body immediately fell to the ground.

"Die!"

Another Riverlands soldier in plate armor roared, and his spear pierced the warhorse under a Dothraki.

The warhorse let out a painful neigh, but it also knocked the spearman flying like a high-speed
car, and he fell heavily to the ground.

Thud—

But before he could get up from the ground, the chaotic and noisy horse hooves trampled over him.

A horse hoof stepped on his face, and his cheek was instantly bloody and mangled. The Riverlands soldier let out a painful scream.

Then he was trampled to death by the horses rushing up from behind, his head crushed with a pop, just like crushing an ice cream ball, the ground was smeared with bright red and milky white.

Chapter 432: The Might of the Giants

"Roar~"

The Dothraki continued to howl, mercilessly reaping the lives of the allied soldiers.

Viserys, riding a white horse, was naturally among them. As a Khal, leading from the front was a Dothraki tradition. Usually, Viserys would ride his dragon, but today he personally rode a warhorse into battle.

His silver-gold hair hung over his cold armor. Viserys held a bloodstained lance, and the warhorse beneath him was also dyed red.

Suddenly, a whooshing sound came from the side. Viserys, with his keen senses, quickly dodged an arrow. The arrow grazed his hair and flew into the sky.

Whoosh—

Viserys sat on his horse, holding the reins with one hand, and looked in the direction of the arrow. He saw a thin middle-aged knight with a green turtle emblem on his chest.

The Estermont family of Greenstone?

Viserys had a deep memory of this emblem. When he was young, studying the family emblems and mottos with Maester Daniel, he couldn't help but laugh every time he saw it.

The Estermont family was a relative of the Baratheons, particularly close to Robert. Robert's mother was Cassana Estermont of the Estermont family. Therefore, in this war, the Estermont family naturally responded.

The man who shot the arrow was the eldest son of Lord Elton Estermont, Ser Emon Estermont.

He too was riding a white horse, staring at Viserys. He recognized Viserys's identity. Among the entire Dothraki army, only Viserys seemed out of place.

Emon threw away his bow and arrow, drew his sword from his waist, roared, and spurred his horse towards Viserys.

However, Viserys, holding his bloodstained lance, remained stationary on his horse, watching the 'green turtle' knight charge at him. He then raised his lance and spun it around, piercing the knight's chest with a thud.

With one hand, he lifted the body of Emon Estermont off the horse, held it high in the air, and then threw it to the ground with a thud.

Emon's horse, frightened, ignored its master's body and fled into the distance.

"Mad King's son!"

"Die!"

Just as Viserys had killed Emon Estermont, the heir of Greenstone, another knight in armor, holding a lance, charged at Viserys.

He saw this golden opportunity and wanted to kill Viserys single-handedly, to become a hero of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Kill!"

Rumble—

The horse's hooves thundered, coming with a fierce momentum.

Viserys pulled his lance from Emon's body, the blood dripping onto the ground. He heard the noise, turned his head, and his face showed no fear, but rather, he seemed very calm.

Thud—

At that moment, a 'mountain' covered in heavy armor suddenly appeared beside Viserys. He charged forward, knocking the knight and his horse flying.

The horse let out a painful neigh in mid-air, its hooves flailing. The knight on its back was even more miserable, being thrown off the horse.

He fell heavily to the ground with a thud, the man under the iron can was thrown into a mess, almost directly killed. Blood flowed from his nose and forehead, flowing into his eyes.

The knight of the allied forces struggled to get up from the ground, but a howling Dothraki rode past him, cutting his throat.

Puff—

The horse's hooves passed by his eyes, the knight's blood sprayed on the ground, and his horse's waist was broken. It lay on the ground in pain, unable to get up.

Viserys watched this scene and then turned his gaze back. He looked up slightly at the 'mountain' in front of him, nodded, and calmly said, "Thank you, Mag."

Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg was the 'King of the Giants,' and he was now under Viserys's command.

Viserys had custom-made a set of heavy armor for him and his wife, and their weapons were changed from wooden clubs with stones to a custom-made giant axe.

Now, the strong Mag, carrying the giant axe on his shoulder, had arrows all over his armor, looking like a porcupine, but none of the arrows had penetrated the armor.

If a regular human wore such heavy armor, they would not only find it difficult to move, but they might also be pressed to the ground.

But the giant moved freely, like a humanoid monster, rampaging on the battlefield, destroying the formation of the allied forces.

And Mag's gentle wife, Wun Wun, was also here. The two giants fought side by side, becoming a new nightmare for the allied soldiers.

Above their heads, the sky-covering dragon constantly breathed fire, the flames burning up to the sky, visible from afar.

The river beach outside Riverrun was dyed red with a bloody battle, and the soldiers in Riverrun, watching the bloodthirsty Dothraki and the terrifying giants, and the dragon flying overhead, felt terrified.

"It's over."

Hoster Tully, the Duke of Riverrun, leaned against the city wall, closing his eyes slightly.

He felt dizzy and almost sat down on the ground.

But he was supported by the guards of the Tully family, preventing the old duke from losing his dignity.

Chapter 433: Ambush from Behind

As the allied forces were on the brink of collapse, unable to withstand the pressure of the Dothraki onslaught.

On the battlefield outside Riverrun, a thunderous sound of iron hooves suddenly echoed from behind the Dothraki army.

Countless knights of the Vale, bearing the banner of the falcon, had somehow maneuvered behind the Dothraki and launched an ambush.

This was a tactic devised by the allies. The main force on the front line was to hold off Viserys's army, while the knights of the Vale feigned internal strife, broke away from the main camp, and circled to the rear. According to the agreed time, they calculated that Viserys would launch his attack today, and they were ready to ambush.

To make Viserys believe that there was indeed internal strife within the allied forces, the knights of the Vale, under the command of Yohn Royce, Count of Runestone, deliberately took a detour.

He led the knights of the Vale along the River Road straight to the town of Harroway's Town, ran a great distance, then made a large circle and returned, hoping to catch Viserys off guard from behind.

However, the agreed time was accurate, and the plan was perfect. Yohn Royce led the knights of the Vale, exhausted to the point of death.

But they never expected that the situation on the battlefield would not be as they imagined. Instead of being in a state of tension, it was a one-sided situation.

The Dothraki, charging repeatedly, were in and out of the allied forces' formation. The formation of the allies had been riddled with holes due to the dragon's breath and the giants' destruction.

The formation of the allied forces had been turned into a sieve, with the Dothraki reaping lives at will.

However, the arrival of the knights of the Vale still served as a shot of adrenaline, striking hard at the allied soldiers on the verge of collapse. The soldiers of the alliance began to fight back.

"Kill!"

"Kill these savages!"

"Kill the Mad King's son!"

Stannis, covered in blood, was fighting fiercely, his sword already chipped.

He stood amidst a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, his vision even becoming somewhat blurred. The entire world was filled with a crimson color, with fire, blood, and bright curved blades...

"Roar~"

A Dothraki horseman charged at him, brandishing his arakh.

Stannis instinctively raised his long sword to block, but failed to do so, and was cut on the shoulder.

Blood gushed out from the gap in his armor. If it weren't for the armor, this blow would have cut off his left arm.

The intense pain brought Stannis abruptly back to his senses. He gasped for breath, swinging his long sword to counterattack, but was pierced in the leg by an arrow that flew in.

Puff~

Blood gushed out.

"Hmph."

Stannis let out a painful grunt, fell to his knees, and above his head, the incomprehensible Dothraki language rang out.

"This man looks like the leader of the lambs. The Khal demands that we leave them a way out."

A Dothraki spoke to the khas next to him.

The khas, with heavy dark circles under his eyes, looked coldly at Stannis, who was kneeling below, his face full of pain, and nodded slightly.

"Then spare his life."

"Take him away!"

On the battlefield shrouded in smoke, the hooves of the Dothraki trampled the surrounding land. A group of plains riders surrounded Stannis and let out a howl.

Then a rope descended from the sky, directly looped around Stannis's neck, and pulled him to the ground.

A Dothraki horseman, skilled in roping, held the hemp rope in one hand, rode his horse around Stannis, and with a slight pull, the rope around Stannis's neck suddenly tightened. He struggled desperately to break free but to no avail, his face turning red.

"Roar~"

The Dothraki horseman dragged Stannis like a wild dog, pulling him to the side to tie him up.

"Halt!"

"Release Lord Stannis!"

On the chaotic battlefield, a Storm's End soldier with a crowned stag emblem on his chest saw this scene.

He roared and drew his sword to rush over to rescue Stannis, but was blocked by a dismounted Dothraki.

The Storm's End soldier thrust his sword, but the skilled Dothraki warrior caught the blade with his elbow, then, under the incredulous gaze of the other, cut his throat with a knife.

Puff~

The body fell headlong onto the scorched earth.

And not far away.

Countless knights of the Vale suddenly appeared on the battlefield from the rear, then surged forward like a tide.

"Kill!"

Yohn Royce, the commander of the knights of the Vale, also personally joined the battle, holding his long sword, with countless knights of the Vale flanking him, charging towards the distant battlefield.

In their imagination, the Dothraki should be panicked, even fleeing in all directions, because a cavalry charge from the rear is a devastating blow to any army.

However, the Dothraki did not panic, but kept riding and howling, confusing their targets.

What met the knights of the Vale was a giant spinning axe and a dragon diving from the sky, opening its abyss-like mouth, and a dazzling red light lit up in its throat.

Yohn Royce, Count of Runestone, clad in bronze armor, watched this scene, his throat rolling slightly as he swallowed.

"Damn it!"

Then, gathering his courage, he jumped off his galloping horse just a second before the dragon's breath was released.

With a thud, he fell to the ground and rolled, almost fainting, while the sky above was lit up with a red light.

Boom~

The dragon's breath swept across the earth, directly engulfing the position where Yohn Royce should have been.

Countless knights of the Vale screamed in terror in the flames, their armor wrapped around their flesh, along with their horses, collapsed and were burned to ashes.

Clang~

A knight of the Vale clashed with a Dothraki, the arakh struck the heavy breastplate but failed to penetrate, then the knight of the Vale, wearing his family's emblem, stabbed the Dothraki under his horse.

Mag the Mighty charged into the formation of the knights of the Vale, picked up the giant axe he had just thrown, and swung it at a charging knight, splitting him and his horse in half with one blow, the scene was extremely bloody.

Roar~

Then Mag pounded his chest, bathed in the red firelight, and let out a deafening roar. The surrounding knights of the Vale were all terrified and fled in all directions.

And not far away.

Eddard Stark, Duke of Winterfell, covered in blood, was fighting fiercely with his Valyrian steel greatsword, Ice.

There were countless bodies lying around him, both allied soldiers and Dothraki.

Viserys, not far away, saw Eddard Stark, then spurred his horse to walk over here, then reined in his horse and dismounted.

"Kill!"

On the chaotic battlefield, there were fires everywhere, and shouts of killing everywhere

.

Eddard, supporting the hilt of his sword with one hand, was panting slightly. He watched the silver-haired knight dismount and walk towards him, his eyes revealing an indescribable complexity.

"Viserys..."

The air around them was filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Thud~

The lance was stuck in the ground, Viserys walked towards Eddard with one hand on the hilt of his sword, then stopped a few meters away from the Duke of Winterfell and said.

"Surrender, Lord Stark."

"The war is over."

Chapter 434: The End of the War

However, Eddard remained silent, panting heavily. He then pulled Ice from the ground and swung it at Viserys.

But the silver-haired youth in front of him slightly sidestepped, easily dodging the attack.

He then grabbed the wrist of the Duke of Winterfell with one hand, and with the other, he landed a punch on Eddard Stark's face.

Thud—

The punch landed solidly, causing stars to appear in Eddard's vision. His nose seemed to be broken, blood gushing out instantly. The ancestral Valyrian steel sword in his hand clattered to the ground.

Eddard Stark was knocked down by Viserys's punch, lying face-up on the ground. His cheek was covered in blood, and he was panting heavily, unable to get up.

The battlefield was filled with smoke, and shouts of killing were everywhere.

Viserys stood in front of Eddard Stark, pausing for a moment to wipe the blood off his fist.

The air on the battlefield was filled with the heavy scent of blood and the smell of burning. It was a disgusting smell, but he had long since gotten used to it.

As for Eddard Stark, based on his impressions from his past life, Viserys admired him more than he despised him.

Just, selfless, and honorable.

He was even somewhat annoyed at the man's stubbornness and naivety, which ultimately ruined a good situation and cost him his life.

If he could put aside his current identity, he would actually prefer to be friends with Eddard, to see Robb, Sansa, Arya, and the other little wolves...

However, it's a pity that given Viserys's current identity, Eddard was destined to be his enemy, and there was little room for reconciliation between them.

Even though Viserys didn't really care about his father, the 'Mad King', and his brother Rhaegar Targaryen, apart from Daenerys and Rhaenys, the only one he recognized was his mother, Queen Rhaella.

But under the watchful eyes of all, he had to avenge his father and brother, punish his enemies, even if it was just a pretense.

"Khal."

"Khal."

Two Dothraki men walked over from behind, their eyes filled with admiration.

Just now, this 'lamb' had killed several of their best men in their khalasar, but he was knocked down by a single punch from the Khal.

"Hmm."

"Qora."

Viserys slightly turned his head to look at the two men next to him, then spoke in Dothraki, ordering them to tie up Eddard.

The two Dothraki men nodded at the Khal's command, walked up to Eddard, who was lying on the ground with blood all over his face, pulled him up, and tied his hands with hemp rope.

"Move!"

Eddard was pushed by the Dothraki men to the rear.

The weapon he had dropped, Ice, was not left on the battlefield, but was picked up as an important trophy and also taken to the rear.

The material of this greatsword was abundant, and if it was remelted, it could be forged into two Valyrian steel swords.

Fortunately, Valyrian steel was hard, never chipped, extremely sharp, and very lightweight. Otherwise, wielding such a large sword in battle would easily exhaust the user.

The war was over.

The Targaryen army attacked the main force of the alliance, which was made up of fifty thousand soldiers, with just over twenty thousand Dothraki horsemen. A total of over seventy thousand troops were involved in the fierce battle on the banks of the Red Fork outside Riverrun.

The dragon's breath burned the wild grass on the riverbank, causing a rare prairie fire. The thick smoke billowed into the sky, and the fire continued to burn for three days without completely extinguishing.

As the highest-ranking commander of the alliance, Stannis and Eddard Stark were captured alive, along with a host of minor nobles who were either killed or injured.

But the Targaryen army could not find any trace of Tywin Lannister, the acting commander of the alliance.

As the sun set and the sky darkened.

"My lord, we are almost at Ashemark."

A soldier of House Lannister, wearing black armor with gold trim and a bright red cloak, stood at the bow of the ship looking forward. He then turned around and spoke to Tywin Lannister, who was sitting behind him.

Ashemark is a castle in the Westerlands, located in a range of hills where the Tumblestone River originates.

The castle is held by House Marbrand, a vassal of House Lannister. Their family sigil is a burning tree, and the current lord is Damon Marbrand, the Count.

Tywin Lannister's mother, Joanna Marbrand, is the aunt of Damon Marbrand, making Damon Tywin's cousin.

Originally, this old lion, as the commander of the entire army, had learned of the situation on the battlefield earlier. Knowing that the situation was irreversible, he had left the battlefield by boat under the protection of his family's guards and fled directly to Ashemark.

Tywin Lannister sat on the boat, his face and body still smeared with blood. His cloak was torn, making him look somewhat disheveled, but his back was still straight. His pale green eyes were flecked with gold, and his face was deeply tired.

"Let's stop here."

As the commander of the entire army, Tywin abandoned his soldiers and fled. He had been silent all the way on the boat. Only now did he raise his head to look at the darkening sky and the disappearing sunset, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, my lord."

Several soldiers of House Lannister quickly responded, and then the small boats docked on the bank of the Tumblestone River.

The people on the boat jumped down onto the riverbank, which was full of broken stones. The area was desolate and sparsely populated.

The Tumblestone River was flanked by deep forests, and landslides often occurred, so people gradually moved away from this area.

"Let the boats go, let them drift with the water."

Tywin, with his deep and meticulous mind, stood on the bank of the Tumblestone River, looked around, and then spoke again in a hoarse voice.

The soldiers thus let go of the ropes, allowing the small boats to drift on the river, confusing any potential pursuers.

Then Tywin and his party disappeared into the mountains of the Westerlands, leaving no trace.

Not long after Tywin and his party disappeared into the deep forest, a group of horsemen came chasing along the Tumblestone River, but they only saw a few small boats floating on the river.

Then, under the loud command of Kasco, the Dothraki abandoned their horses and began to search the mountains, but they found nothing.

The mountains of the Westerlands were undulating and densely forested. Once someone hid in them, even a dragon could not find their traces.

Moreover, it was now sunset, and the sky was gradually darkening. With no other choice, the Dothraki had
to return to their camp.

Chapter 435: Conspiracy

The Dothraki had ventured deep into the mountains of the Westerlands along the Tumblestone River, but they found no trace of Tywin.

Tywin had escaped by boat back to the Westerlands. On the battlefield, Stannis and Eddard Stark were taken prisoner, and the whereabouts of Landon Tully were unknown.

"Roar~"

The allied forces were completely defeated and scattered. The Dothraki, like pig catchers, had captured over twenty thousand prisoners.

The morale of the allied forces was completely shattered by the dragons, giants, and these barbarians. Due to a shortage of ropes, many captured soldiers were not bound, only their armor and weapons were confiscated.

Even a single Dothraki rider could make dozens of defeated soldiers lay down their weapons, surrender their armor, and obediently surrender.

These dozens of men were not bound, but they still acted like walking corpses, not daring to flee or resist, following behind the Dothraki's horses as prisoners.

There were many such exaggerated scenes. In the end, many of these allied soldiers were not real soldiers, but strong men temporarily recruited to deal with the White Walkers. They could fight when the wind was in their favor, but they would collapse at the first sign of adversity.

Although many prisoners were captured after the defeat of the allied forces outside Riverrun, many soldiers still managed to escape.

They fled into the woods and deep mountains, disappearing without a trace, and later became the main trouble in the Riverlands.

After the defeat of the allied forces, those who could escape escaped, and those who could be captured were captured. However, Robert Baratheon, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, who was seriously injured, could not go anywhere.

Riverrun was surrounded on three sides, and he was trapped in the city, unable to leave, like a bird in a cage.

As night fell, it gradually enveloped the entire battlefield.

The Targaryen army, which had been fighting fiercely all day, began to withdraw, slowly retreating to their main camp with numerous prisoners.

Riverrun, from beginning to end, kept its gates closed, with no movement coming out, as if waiting for death. The air was filled with a heavy atmosphere, completely falling into silence.

The night sky was deep.

The torches on the walls of Riverrun burned with flames, dispelling the surrounding darkness and emitting light.

The soldiers of the Riverlands, wearing armor, were patrolling the city walls, guarding against a night attack by the Targaryen army.

However, every one of them had a distracted look on their faces. It was clear that the day's battle on the banks of the Red Fork had a great impact on the defenders. Everyone in Riverrun was in a state of panic.

A weak, pale-skinned man was on duty on the city wall. He was wearing a large suit of armor, but it could not hide his bulging belly.

Winter had just left, and spring had not been here for long. The night temperature in Riverrun was not warm but rather chilly. However, this fat man kept wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Lord Mooton."

At this time, a soldier from the Riverlands, holding a torch, came up the stairs from the city wall. His eyes were a bit evasive, and then he called out.

William Mooton is the Count of Maidenpool, the current head of the Mooton family. His brother, Myles Mooton, was once Prince Rhaegar's squire.

William is naturally weak and lacks ability. If it weren't for the situation, he would never come to the front line.

However, he didn't expect that he would come to the battlefield reluctantly, and before he could see the White Walkers, they were defeated.

William Mooton was initially relieved that he had escaped a disaster, and at the same time, he was secretly grateful to Viserys for repelling the White Walkers.

"Long live him."

But William didn't expect that in the blink of an eye, Duke Tywin tried to assassinate Viserys, and the short-lived alliance between the Dragon and the Stag broke out in a fierce battle. The allied forces were defeated by the dragons and barbarians and were chased from Twins all the way to Riverrun.

Under these circumstances, William Mooton followed the army in a state of displacement and fled back to Riverrun.

At this time, someone called his name, and William Mooton was slightly stunned, then turned his head to see a soldier from the Riverlands' Bracken family.

The other party whispered a few words in his ear, and William Mooton's chubby cheeks immediately changed color.

Then he looked into the other's eyes to make sure he wasn't being deceived, and then he finally nodded.

"Alright."

"I understand."

Then William Mooton's belly fat trembled slightly, and he seriously instructed the guards on the city wall to not slack off, to stay here, to keep their eyes open, and then followed the soldier down from the city wall.

However, what he didn't notice was that a Tully family soldier with a silver trout emblem on his chest was watching their retreating figures, his brows slightly furrowed, and a trace of suspicion in his eyes.

Then he also came down from the city wall, hurriedly heading towards the position of the Sept in Riverrun.

This Sept was built by Hoster Tully for his wife Minisa Whent in her beloved garden. He had just heard that Lord Tully was praying in the Sept at this moment.

On the other hand.

William Mooton followed the soldier's steps through the twists and turns in Riverrun, arriving outside a particularly secluded small room.

There were two guards who seemed to be chatting casually, but in fact, their eyes were vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

They saw the person who came with Lord Mooton, exchanged glances, and nodded to each other.

Then the soldier who had led William Mooton here also looked around vigilantly, then reached out to push open the door in front of him, inviting the Lord of Maidenpool to enter.

And William Mooton didn't hesitate, panting slightly as he walked in. At this moment, many people had gathered in the room, most of them were nobles of the Riverlands and many landed knights.

The Lord Paramount of the Riverlands had summoned all his vassals to garrison in Riverrun, so a large number of Riverlands nobles were hoarded in Riverrun.

However, these people gathering together at this juncture certainly meant no good.

"Lord William has arrived, welcome."

And the somewhat bald Lord of Stone Hedge, Jonos Bracken, stood up from his chair and clapped.

With his lead, the rest of the nobles and knights in the small room also clapped absent-mindedly.

"Welcome, Lord Mooton."

However, William Mooton took a deep breath and waved his hand irritably.

"Don't give me that, Jonos."

"Speak quickly if you have something to say, and let it out if you have to fart. What do you want me to do by calling me here?"

The two were old acquaintances, having once visited brothels together and knew each other well. Therefore, when Jonos sent
someone to find him in this situation, William Mooton immediately realized something.

And Jonos Bracken, seeing his old friend being so straightforward, didn't hesitate anymore.

"Well..."

Then he openly laid out his plan.

Chapter 436: Chaos in Riverrun

"I have an elder brother, you know."

"That was decades ago, a time many may have already forgotten..."

Jonos Bracken's elder brother, Jeffery, had served Viserys as his Hand of the King for several years.

Although Jeffery Bracken had willingly stepped down, he still held a high position as the Master of Ships, the commander of the Targaryen navy.

However, not many knew that Jeffery was a member of the Bracken family. Littlefinger was one of the few, as was Jon Arryn, but Jon Arryn was dead, and Littlefinger hadn't spread the news.

Therefore, many people still didn't know that Jonos Bracken's elder brother was the current naval commander of the Targaryen army.

Jonos revealed the entire plan they had just conspired. These nobles and knights of the Riverlands were also stimulated by the day's fierce battle.

They believed that the divine power of the dragons was unstoppable. Although Riverrun was solid and easy to defend, it could deal with ordinary soldiers, but it was nonsense to deal with dragons.

They feared a repeat of the disaster of Harrenhal and were unwilling to be buried with the Tully family. Therefore, they decided to launch a rebellion tonight.

They planned to kill all the Tully family members, capture the injured King Robert Baratheon who was trapped in Riverrun, and offer Riverrun and the false king to Viserys in exchange for his forgiveness and rewards.

Therefore, these nobles gathered here, preparing to launch a rebellion. Jonos Bracken invited the Count of Maidenpool to participate and threatened him with the looming threat of Viserys. If they did not act and distance themselves from the Tully family, they would surely be buried with Riverrun.

Harrenhal was a lesson from the past. When the Conqueror Aegon demanded 'Black Harren' to surrender, he was met with a firm refusal. Aegon then said he would 'end the bloodline of House Harren.'

And indeed, Aegon later rode his dragon to burn Harrenhal, and 'Black Harren' was burned alive in the highest tower, which was later called the 'Kingspyre Tower.'

It is said that the spirits of the Harren family still haunt the place, cursing every family that later obtained Harrenhal. Without exception, they all ended up with their families destroyed, which was known as the 'Curse of Harrenhal.'

William Mooton was coaxed and frightened by Jonos Bracken into agreeing to join the rebellion.

However, at this moment, on the other side of Riverrun.

The Tully family soldier who went to the Sept to find the old duke did not find Hoster Tully, but found his son, Edmure Tully.

The young heir of Riverrun was not a waste. His ability to survive several wars with the White Walkers was proof of his capabilities.

Upon hearing about this, Edmure immediately sensed that something was wrong.

At this critical moment, with the army pressing down and Riverrun besieged, the vassals of the Tully family were conspiring in the city?

This didn't look like they were discussing anything good at all, and it blatantly exposed their treacherous intentions.

Edmure was furious. He immediately told the soldiers not to look for his father anymore and let the old man rest in peace. He ordered the soldiers to gather all the soldiers loyal to the Tully family in Riverrun. He was going to personally lead the charge and eliminate these traitorous dogs.

Edmure's orders were passed down. Although there were soldiers brought by other vassals in Riverrun, the soldiers loyal to the Tully family still made up the majority, and everyone quickly gathered.

However, Edmure was both shocked and angry, mobilizing the army to strike first and eliminate the rebels. But his actions were too big, and the area of Riverrun was not large, which led to the rebels who were conspiring to keenly detect the abnormalities here.

They found that the plan seemed to have been leaked, and the Tully family had noticed. But at this point, it was too late to back down. Even if they withdrew now, the Tully family would not forgive them.

Therefore, the rebels who were conspiring to surrender the city decisively launched an attack ahead of schedule.

Jonos Bracken, the Count, personally led the rebels through the hall and attacked the main castle of Riverrun. This was the bedroom of Duke Hoster Tully, and King Robert Baratheon was also resting in this main castle.

The main castle of Riverrun, like the city itself, was designed in a triangular shape, easy to defend and hard to attack. It had an east-facing balcony that could be reached by a winding staircase.

Edmure personally led the charge, looking quite like a general. He led a large number of Tully family soldiers who were just passing in front of the main castle.

The soldiers of the Tully family and the rebels collided head-on in front of the main castle. Seeing their enemies, they were filled with rage. Both sides roared and drew their swords to fight.

"Kill!"

A fierce civil war broke out in Riverrun. There were sounds of metal clashing, shouts of killing, the sound of weapons piercing flesh, and screams.

The sudden civil war in the castle woke up Hoster Tully, who was resting in his bedroom.

Due to Edmure's special request, the soldiers did not inform the old duke, but followed Lord Edmure to prepare for the rebellion.

Therefore, the old duke knew nothing about the rebellion. He was sleeping soundly in his bedroom, and then he was startled by the sudden shouts of killing from the castle.

He thought the Dothraki had invaded Riverrun. He hurriedly put on his robe and picked up a sword, went to the balcony to take a look.

But what Hoster didn't expect was that as soon as he stepped out onto the balcony, before he could see what was happening, an arrow flew out of the darkness and hit him in the chest.

Thud—

Blood splattered.

The white-haired old duke let out a hoarse scream, the sword in his hand fell to the ground, and blood gushed from the arrow in his chest. He fell onto the balcony.

And among the rebels below, someone with sharp eyes saw the Duke of Riverrun, Hoster Tully, fall on the balcony with an arrow in his chest, and immediately shouted excitedly.

"The old dog of the Tully family has been shot!"

"Hoster Tully is dead!"

The rebels shouted loudly in an attempt to undermine the enemy's morale, and the soldiers of the Tully family heard them shouting and couldn't help but look up at the position of the main castle's balcony.

Then they saw the old duke with an arrow in his chest, barely alive, lying on the balcony, and then his body went limp and fell to the ground.

"Damn traitors!"

"Lord Tully!"

What the rebels didn't expect was that Hoster was quite respected and loved among the soldiers of the Tully family. Seeing the old duke killed by the rebels, all the soldiers of the Tully family had red eyes and
directly pounced on the rebels.

"Kill!"

"Revenge for Lord Tully!"

Chapter 437: Chapter437: The Death of Lord Tully

"Father!"

Edmure watched his father fall, feeling as if he had been struck by lightning.

He stood there, dumbfounded, hardly daring to believe his eyes. He couldn't believe that his father, who had always seemed as immovable as a mountain, had fallen.

The heir of Riverrun's eyes turned red, tears swirling in his eyes. He drew his sword and roared, charging forward.

William Mooton, the portly Count of Maidenpool, had not been at the forefront of the battle. He had wanted to stay in the back, but for some reason, he came face to face with the red-eyed Edmure. Despite William's own skill with a sword, he was no match for the young and vigorous Edmure.

Clang, clang—

The sound of metal clashing rang out. After only a few exchanges, the Count of Maidenpool was pierced through the chest by Edmure's sword. The gleaming tip of the sword protruded from his back, and blood stained his armor.

William Mooton had joined the rebels in a bid to survive, but he hadn't expected to die within Riverrun. His eyes were filled with regret, and blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.

William Mooton's body was kicked to the ground by Edmure, who pulled his sword from the corpse with a squelch. Enraged, Edmure strode forward with his bloodied sword, cutting down another rebel soldier.

"Kill!"

The shouts of battle echoed throughout Riverrun. The death of Lord Tully did not calm anyone down or lead to surrender. Instead, it intensified the conflict. The rebels and the soldiers of House Tully engaged in fierce combat throughout the city.

The noise of battle had awakened Hoster Tully, and it had also alerted Robert Baratheon, who was recuperating within the castle, and his Kingsguard.

"Seven hells... Can anyone tell me what the hell is happening out there?!"

Robert Baratheon lay in his sickbed, his chest still bandaged, but he was able to sit up.

The arrow that had pierced his chest had nearly taken his life, but Robert was a hard man to kill.

Now, Robert tried to get up from his bed to see what was happening outside, but he was held back by his Kingsguard commander, Barristan Selmy.

"Your Grace, there are rebels attacking the city. It's too dangerous to go out now."

"I will protect you here."

The old knight with white hair held his sword in one hand, his expression serious.

It was easy to guess what was happening outside.

The defeat of the allied forces during the day had practically sealed Riverrun's fate. Seeing the situation deteriorate, the nobles within the city naturally didn't want to share Riverrun's fate and were bound to stir up trouble.

Due to the unique defensive structure of Riverrun, it was not easy to break through the city from the inside. Therefore, the rebels wanted to attack the main castle first, capture Lord Tully and King Robert, and use them as hostages to force House Tully to surrender Riverrun.

At this moment, shouts proclaiming the death of Lord Tully echoed from the battlefield below.

"What?"

Upon hearing the news of Hoster Tully's death, the faces of those in the room changed slightly, except for Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard, who was sitting on a chair on the other side.

Meryn Trant's eyes flickered as he stealthily glanced at the bare-chested king and his commander, Barristan Selmy. Ser Mandon Moore was standing guard at the door, ready to fend off any rebels who might break in.

Robert once again demanded to go out and see for himself, but was refused by the Kingsguard commander. After a few arguments, Robert failed to persuade the stubborn old man and sat back down on the bed in frustration.

Robert couldn't go out himself, but he ordered Mandon Moore, who was guarding the door, to go out and see what was happening. Was Lord Tully really in trouble?

"Yes, Your Grace."

Ser Mandon Moore, clad in a white cloak, also looked serious. He nodded slightly and pushed the door open to go out, leaving only King Robert, Barristan Selmy, and Meryn Trant in the room.

However, they waited for a while but did not see Ser Mandon Moore return. Instead, they heard his screams.

"Halt! What are you doing!"

Ser Mandon Moore's voice was urgent, both shocked and angry, followed by the sound of clashing swords.

Clang, clang—

It seemed that Ser Mandon Moore had killed two men, but then he himself let out a scream.

"Ah—"

Suddenly, there were sounds of intense fighting and footsteps spiraling up the stairs from the bottom of the castle.

"Quick! Quick!"

"Capture Robert Baratheon alive!"

"Capture the false king!"

It turned out that the rebels, under the command of Jonos, were unable to directly attack the main castle of Riverrun. The cunning Jonos had sent several skilled men to climb the walls from the other side of the castle using ropes.

The rebels had opened a passage from within the castle, and a portion of the rebel forces had flooded into the castle. The main battlefield had shifted from outside the castle to inside.

Many rebels, holding torches, rushed up the stairs to the top of the castle. They kicked open the door to Lord Tully's room, but the old Lord, who had been shot in the chest, was already dead, his body gradually losing warmth.

Then the rebels cut off Lord Tully's head, held it high by the hair, and passed it around like a ball. Finally, it was impaled on a spear.

"Hoster Tully is dead!"

Not far from Lord Tully's room, King Robert's bedroom was also under heavy attack from the rebels.

But the 'Fearless' Barristan Selmy, Commander of the Kingsguard, stood alone at the door, fighting fiercely. He had sustained multiple injuries but continued to fight, repelling several rebel attacks, like a war god.

After all, the entrance to the bedroom was small, and the numerical advantage was compressed to a small range. If they couldn't get past the Kingsguard commander, no one could harm King Robert Baratheon.

"Who can kill me!"

Barristan Selmy, his white hair and beard stained with blood, stood at the door with his sword. His white robe was soaked with blood.

As a legendary knight known throughout the world, he had momentarily deterred the rebel soldiers, who were somewhat hesitant to move forward.

Chapter 438: The City of Submission

However, at that moment, Ser Marlin Trant, a Kingsguard standing behind the old knight, drew a dagger from his waist and plunged it directly into the back of Ser Barristan Selmy's neck.

The dagger pierced through his throat and was swiftly withdrawn.

Blood spurted out instantly, splashing onto the faces of the rebel soldiers in front of him. The white armor of the knight was stained with blood, and the longsword in Ser Barristan's hand clattered to the ground. He clutched his throat, his face full of disbelief. He seemed to want to say something, but no words came out.

His voice was choked by the blood flooding his windpipe.

Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, had never expected that the brother of the Kingsguard, whom he had trusted to guard his back, would betray him in such a situation.

It turned out that Ser Marlin Trant had harbored treacherous thoughts for a long time. From the moment he saw the unstoppable power of the White Walkers, he had been contemplating escape.

But his hesitation had prevented him from acting until Viserys arrived with his dragon. Humanity defeated the White Walkers and saved the world, but the conflict between Viserys and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms was irreconcilable.

Marlin Trant believed that Viserys wanted to kill, to eliminate more nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, otherwise, he would not have brought a horde of barbarians with him. These barbarians were prepared for killing and arson.

As a Kingsguard of Robert, Marlin Trant considered himself one of the people Viserys most wanted to kill.

But Ser Marlin Trant did not want to die yet. He hadn't had enough of life, so he had to do something to survive. The greatest merit was to betray his master for glory, capture the old king and present him to the new king, or kill him.

Since the king was shot and fell into a coma, Marlin Trant had made up his mind a long time ago, but Barristan Selmy, the old man, had been guarding the king all the time, leaving Marlin Trant no chance to act.

But now was the best opportunity...

Marlin Trant suddenly turned traitor, killing Ser Barristan Selmy, who had just been like a war god, from behind. The rebel soldiers outside the door were somewhat puzzled and hesitated for a moment.

Meanwhile, Riverrun was in chaos. The number of rebels was limited, and the soldiers of House Tully were gathering more and more. So they quickly killed up the stairs. Before the rebels could capture King Robert, they rushed up and the two sides started fighting in the upper levels of the castle.

The Kingsguard, who had betrayed his oath, Marlin Trant, seeing this situation, was somewhat anxious. He had originally thought that the outcome was almost certain, so he suddenly killed Barristan Selmy. But he didn't expect a change at this time.

He rushed over to try to capture King Robert as a hostage, but was surrounded by a group of Tully soldiers.

Clang, clang...

As a member of the Kingsguard, Marlin Trant was naturally not a good kind. He roared and swung his longsword, killing two Tully soldiers in succession.

But he was outnumbered and was stabbed in the knee from behind. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground, then was captured alive and bound tightly.

"Kill!"

The rebellion in Riverrun was intense. The two sides fought fiercely, their eyes red with bloodlust. The fight lasted half the night, but in the end, House Tully emerged victorious.

Blood flowed like a river in Riverrun, and corpses were strewn everywhere. All the rebels were either dead or injured. Some were even forced to jump into the river. It was unknown whether they managed to swim out of the water gate or died under the arrows of the defenders.

Several bodies of rebel soldiers floated on the river surface. The soldiers of House Tully were cleaning up the battlefield. They finally found the severed head of Lord Tully, but it was already unrecognizable. The rebels had kicked the old lord's head around like a ball, and it was finally found under a bed.

Edmure, seeing his father's head and the headless body covered in footprints and filth, was filled with uncontrollable rage. His eyes were bloodshot as he ordered all the captured rebel nobles to be hanged.

The rebellion in Riverrun was suppressed. The bodies of countless rebel nobles were dragged down from the gallows and thrown into the dog kennel to feed the dogs.

The Kingsguard who did not belong to the rebel nobles, Marlin Trant, was lucky enough to escape death. He was temporarily detained in the water prison of Riverrun, enduring the pain of his knee being pierced, as if his flesh was being gouged out.

The body of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the legendary knight Ser Barristan Selmy, who had loyally protected the king and fought to the last moment, was also properly taken care of.

However, strangely, King Robert Baratheon was temporarily confined by the soldiers of House Tully after the battle. He was even not allowed to mourn for Ser Barristan Selmy. Although the rebellion was suppressed, the panic on everyone's faces could not be concealed.

Now the time had passed midnight, but the night was still thick. After half a night of turmoil in Riverrun, the atmosphere fell into a strange state.

The old lord was dead, and his heir, Edmure Tully, unhesitatingly became the new Lord Paramount of the Trident and the Duke of Riverrun. All the surviving vassals of the Riverlands swore their loyalty to Edmure Tully in the great hall of Riverrun.

Then the doors of the great hall of Riverrun
were closed tightly. The new Lord Paramount of the Trident and all the vassals of the Riverlands discussed some issues behind closed doors, discussing for half the night.

And the dawn of a new day was about to come. The sky was gradually turning white.

The gates of Riverrun suddenly opened, and the towering drawbridge was also lowered. Edmure Tully, who claimed to be the Lord Paramount of the Trident and the Duke of Riverrun, led all the vassals of the Riverlands to the front of Viserys's warhorse, and then knelt in submission.

He voluntarily handed over Robert Baratheon, who was recuperating in the city, and at the same time asked Viserys to forgive the sins of his father, Hoster, and House Tully, and allowed him to bury his father.

The turmoil in Riverrun last night had also alarmed Viserys outside the city, but he didn't know what had happened in the city. However, he didn't expect so many things to happen after a night of turmoil.

Viserys looked at Edmure Tully, who was kneeling in front of his warhorse. Behind him were the surviving vassals of the Riverlands and the soldiers of House Tully.

In the end, he nodded slightly and told Edmure that he could leave Riverrun to House Tully, but the title of Lord Paramount of the Trident must be taken from him.

Edmure's face was somewhat pale, but he had no objections. He had thought of this possibility a long time ago, but it was just hard to accept for a while.

Then the Dothraki rode into Riverrun, taking complete control of the castle.

Chapter 439: Heading to King's Landing

Perhaps there has never been a moment in the history of the Seven Kingdoms as fascinating as this.

Dragons, giants, Dothraki, and White Walkers, they all gathered on the land of Westeros to fight each other.

In contrast, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, the First Men, or the Andals, many of whom have ancient bloodlines dating back to the Age of Heroes thousands of years ago, were battered in this war.

The human alliance defeated the White Walkers, but the alliance disintegrated in an instant. The remnants of the Targaryens, leading the barbarians, broke through the Twins and Riverrun, and the nobles of the Riverlands surrendered.

The Tully family also voluntarily submitted under fire and curved blades, and Viserys stripped them of the title of Protector of the Riverlands, reducing them to an ordinary count's family.

The Tully family joined Aegon's army under the dragon banner because they resisted King Harren's rule. After the dragon fire burned Harrenhal, Aegon appointed them as the rulers of the Riverlands. However, the Tully family's rule over the Riverlands ended in Viserys' hands.

Edmure Tully's title of Duke didn't even last a night before he became Lord Edmure Tully of Riverrun.

All the Riverlands nobles who had sworn allegiance to him not long ago looked at him a little strangely.

The Dothraki took control of the entire Riverrun, and the king who was under house arrest by the Tully soldiers naturally fell into Viserys' hands.

Viserys went to see Robert, whose mental state was not too bad. He didn't seem to have suffered too much from repeated betrayals and imprisonment.

He was just angry about the death of Barristan Selmy and hoped that Viserys could order the execution of Marlin Trant, who had broken his oath.

As for the fate of this man... Viserys felt that Marlin Trant didn't quite understand.

No king would dare to use such a person as his Kingsguard. Cruel and cunning, his character is even worse than a regicide. It's no wonder that Robert's Kingsguard is considered the worst in history.

Marlin Trant killed Barristan Selmy from behind. His actions not only didn't help Viserys, but they also smeared Viserys' name.

People would suspect that Marlin Trant had been in contact with him a long time ago, but in fact, he hadn't, and Viserys wouldn't use such a treacherous person.

Therefore, such a person, if not killed, would not be enough to appease the public's anger. Killing him could also clear Viserys' name.

The dragon settled in Riverrun, and under the joint witness of countless Riverlands nobles, Tully soldiers, and Dothraki, Marlin Trant was executed in front of Barristan Selmy's body.

The legendary knight, who was well-known in the Seven Kingdoms and was assassinated by a traitor, was solemnly buried after Marlin Trant was executed.

He was buried in a beautiful place outside Riverrun. A stone tablet was erected in front of the grave, which wrote the story of 'Fearless Barristan' and a sentence personally written by Viserys in the Common Tongue.

"He lived as a knight, and he died as a knight."

After the Tully family surrendered and Barristan Selmy was buried, a day passed in a blink of an eye.

At night, Viserys stayed in Riverrun. The master bedroom where the old Duke Hoster lived before his death became Viserys' temporary bedroom.

This is the most luxurious bedroom in the whole Riverrun, and it has been cleaned by the servants. There is no trace of war, and even the bloody smell of last night is gone, but there is a bit more of a woman's rouge scent.

On the first night after the end of the war, the Riverlands nobles, either fearful or ambitious.

Because everyone knows that the position of Protector of the Riverlands is vacant now, and the former ruler has been reduced to an ordinary count.

If they want to seize this opportunity, just like the Tully family who was favored by Aegon and became the Protector of the Riverlands for three hundred years, now is the best time.

The king is resting in Riverrun, and the Riverlands nobles began to have their own thoughts. They sent some of the wives and daughters of the defeated nobles, and even more ruthlessly, they sent their own wives.

Among them, a woman named Hildy was the wife of a sworn knight under the command of Lord Tytos Blackwood.

She even tried to sneak into Viserys' bedroom in the middle of the night, but was caught by the Dothraki guard at the door.

The restless night passed quickly. Although Viserys is a vigorous man, he is not indiscriminate.

He did not favor any of the noble ladies who took the initiative to come to him, mainly because they were... not very pleasing to his eyes.

...

On the morning of the third day.

Viserys dressed up, with a metal dragon head badge on his left chest, wearing a black and red cloak, with a velvet lining.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

He appeared in the hall of Riverrun, all the Riverlands nobles including the new Lord Tully also sat down below with respectful attitudes.

After a day of rest, today Viserys will gather his army and head straight to King's Landing along the main road suitable for the army to march along the River Road.

Because Arianne is already pregnant, he changed his plan to first conquer King's Landing, ascend the Iron Throne, and claim the legitimate name. After getting married in the Great Sept of Baelor, he will launch the second government war to recover the whole territory.

Viserys brought more than 20,000 Dothraki from Pentos. After two major battles with the White Walkers and the Alliance, several thousand people were lost, and now only 18,000 people are left.

However, in the Battle of Riverrun, more than 20,000 Alliance prisoners were captured at once. The vast majority of them chose to surrender and became a member of the Targaryen army.

The scale of Viserys' army has doubled. In the case of insufficient armor and food, the nobles of the Riverlands generously donated, plus the spoils collected from the Alliance camp, armor, weapons, etc...

Woo~

Then the melodious horn sounded, and the dragon flew in the sky and let out a dull roar.

Boom——

Boom——

On the ground, two giants stepped heavily, and every step they took on the ground, the earth was slightly trembling.

"Our target is that Iron Throne, great Dothraki warriors, take it back for our Khal!"

"Roar~"

The sun rises in the east, the Red Fork River is flowing quietly, it seems to have washed away the blood of a few days ago.

In the Targaryen army, people shout and horses neigh, countless Dothraki are surrounded on both sides, along with the newly surrendered Alliance soldiers.

Boom——

The army marched, they held
high the three-headed dragon flag of the Targaryen family, along the wide and flat River Road, they set off from Riverrun and headed straight to King's Landing.

Chapter 440: Besieging King's Landing

After the Battle of Riverrun, Viserys did not continue his original plan to attack the Westerlands and the Vale, but instead led his army straight to King's Landing.

Meanwhile, in the distant capital of the Seven Kingdoms, King's Landing was in a state of panic. The city gates were tightly shut, the number of soldiers on the city walls had multiplied, and the streets were patrolled by gold cloaks. Essential civilian supplies were controlled and scarce, the black market was rampant, and many thugs were more arrogant than ever.

Why had King's Landing become so tense?

The reason was simple. The Golden Company, now flying the banner of 'Fire and Blood, Gold Below', had surrounded King's Landing.

Not only were there soldiers from the Golden Company outside the city, but also the formidable Unsullied army.

The Targaryen navy, under the command of Lord Joffrey Bracken, had blocked the entire Blackwater Bay. A myriad of warships of all sizes covered the sea, making King's Landing impenetrable.

A week ago, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen of the new dynasty received a battle report from Dragonstone Island. The human alliance had repelled the White Walkers, then immediately broke into infighting. Viserys defeated the Seven Kingdoms alliance and was leading the Dothraki south towards Riverrun.

Upon receiving this intelligence, Rhaenys decisively decided to take the initiative to strike in cooperation with her 'brother'. According to the original plan, they would fight in two directions, north and south. She personally led the 'Southern Army' to attack the enemy's main base, King's Landing.

This was a major test for Rhaenys.

Because King's Landing, as the largest and most prosperous city in the Seven Kingdoms, has a terrifying population in this era. Moreover, countless refugees from the North and the Riverlands have flooded in.

Every day, the consumption of food and other resources is enormous. If in a state of war, it can easily be transformed into tens of thousands of soldiers.

Moreover, King's Landing has towering city walls, on which are terrifying war weapons such as trebuchets and giant crossbows.

These were all prepared to fight against the White Walkers. The Seven Kingdoms mobilized their own productivity, united all craftsmen, and worked overtime to produce them.

Now, they haven't had time to be transported to the front line, and the war between humans and White Walkers has ended. Next is the war between humans and humans.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen of the new dynasty personally led the army to surround King's Landing from the sea, land, and air. Naturally, King's Landing was in a state of high tension.

The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, is dead, and Prince Joffrey Baratheon is still young. Therefore, Queen Regent Cersei Lannister has full control of the government.

They still don't know that King Robert has been defeated again and captured alive.

In a study room in the Tower of the Hand in the Red Keep, one of the Kingsguard left in King's Landing by Robert, Ser Arys Oakheart, hurried in.

"Your Grace, the Queen."

The Kingsguard in white armor entered the room and spoke urgently.

However, he came too quickly and didn't knock on the door, accidentally seeing something he shouldn't have seen. Arys Oakheart's cheeks were slightly embarrassed, and he stepped back and lowered his head.

"Ser Jaime."

In the study room of the Tower of the Hand, the queen and her brother, who serves as a Kingsguard, were alone in a room, and their actions did not seem very gentle and harmonious.

The golden knight's face didn't look very good, as if he was slightly annoyed at his sworn brother's reckless actions, but he didn't say much.

The beautiful queen, however, didn't care about her exposed chest, calmly tied her robe, sat up from the table, then barefoot on the floor, slightly raised her delicate chin and asked.

"Ser Arys, what happened?"

Since the Usurper's War, there were many vacancies in the Kingsguard that needed to be filled, and King Robert found this matter troublesome.

Queen Cersei Lannister, based on making some political agreements, promoted five people at once. Therefore, this generation of Kingsguard is considered by many to be the worst in history, such as Meryn Trant, who originally did not qualify to wear the white cloak.

Arys Oakheart was also one of the Kingsguard promoted by Queen Cersei, so he turned a blind eye to what just happened.

"Yes, Your Grace."

The white-cloaked knight heard the queen's words, touched the hilt of his sword, and spoke respectfully.

"Just now, Commander Janos Slynt of the City Watch sent a message. They seem to have caught a suspected Targaryen spy at the River Gate. He smuggled in from Fishmonger's Square..."

"Seems... seems..."

When he got here, Arys Oakheart seemed to hesitate, looked at the two of them, and Jaime Lannister, hearing him stammering, frowned slightly and spoke directly.

"Seems... what? Arys, speak up."

The white-cloaked knight looked at Jaime and then at the queen, then gritted his teeth and spoke.

"It seems to be your deceased brother, Tyrion Lannister."

"What?"

Hearing his sworn brother's words, the golden knight was slightly stunned, then suddenly stood up from his chair.

His eyes were sharp as he looked at the other party, then he strode forward, looked into the other's eyes, and asked seriously again.

"Arys, what did you say?"

"Is... Tyrion?"

After receiving a positive nod from the other party, Jaime couldn't hold back anymore. He pushed the other party away.

Thump...

Even without wearing armor, just in casual clothes, he hurriedly walked towards the door, while also calling for the squires in the Red Keep to prepare horses. He wanted to go to the dungeon of the gold cloaks to see his brother.

The news of Tyrion's death had spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms a long time ago. Jaime was distressed for a long time when he received this news.

He even personally dug a tomb for his brother in the godswood of the Red Keep with his sword to commemorate Tyrion.

But he didn't expect to suddenly hear that Tyrion was still alive in this situation of being besieged by a large army. This was the only bit of luck in all the misfortune.

Jaime and Tyrion had a very good relationship as brothers. However, when Jaime arrived at the dungeon, he found that Tyrion was not only not imprisoned, but was living comfortably.

Commander Janos Slynt of the City Watch was accompanying him. Tyrion was sitting with his legs crossed, shaking a glass of red wine in his hand. It seemed that he had expected his brother to come and was waiting quietly here.

Bang——

The door was rudely pushed open by the golden knight. Jaime saw Tyrion sitting on the chair at a glance.

And Tyrion saw him too. Then Jaime strode over, and the two brothers hugged tightly.

"Tyrion."

"I'm glad you're still alive."

"Of course, Jaime, I'm doing better than anyone."

After the touching scene of the brothers meeting, Jaime then asked Tyrion what had happened.

Why did their father say he was dead?

And why did a 'dead man' suddenly escape from death?

And what is Tyrion's identity now? Why did Arys say that a Targaryen spy was caught?

Jaime asked many questions in one breath, and Tyrion sat back in his seat, took a sip of wine, waved his hand, and then began to tell his story.

Chapter 441: Brothers Reunited

The reunion of the two brothers was not a conversation suitable for others to overhear, especially under the current circumstances where the entire city was under the control of House Lannister.

Janos Slynt, the commander of the City Watch, respectfully excused himself from the room.

Tyrion watched Janos leave, gently swirling the red wine in his glass. The crystal-clear liquid exuded a rich aroma of alcohol. He then raised his head and drained the glass, before remarking, "He's a good dog."

"Is that so, Jaime?"

The knight in white heard Tyrion's words and glanced towards the door, then silently nodded in agreement.

"Yes."

Janos Slynt was a man of insatiable greed, who had turned the City Watch into a cesspool of corruption. But he had one redeeming quality: obedience. It was this quality that allowed him to retain his position and be put to good use.

"But even the most loyal dog will bite its master when it's starving."

Tyrion chuckled coldly, his words seemingly hinting at something.

"What?"

Jaime Lannister furrowed his brows at his brother's insinuation. He wasn't a fool and could tell that Tyrion was hinting at something.

With the Targaryen army at the city gates, even with the temporary recruitment of mercenaries and hedge knights to help defend the city, and the conscription of able-bodied men to bolster their forces, it was still far from enough.

They were up against a dragon.

The girl who had once narrowly escaped from King's Landing now rode a bronze dragon, leading an army that surrounded King's Landing from land, sea, and air. Jaime Lannister had seen the dragon himself when he had climbed the city walls.

"Tyrion, you mean..."

The handsome golden-haired knight tilted his head slightly, asking in a doubtful tone. However, he was cut off by Tyrion.

"Enough of that, Jaime."

"Let's talk about something more important."

Tyrion avoided discussing Janos Slynt's situation and changed the topic to recent events.

When the topic came up, Tyrion refilled his glass with wine, drained it in one gulp, and smacked his lips.

He then recounted his story of following their father to the battlefront at Crackclaw Point, only to be abandoned. He spoke of his narrow escape from the wildfire explosion, his aimless wandering in the North, and his eventual rescue by a group of soldiers who had been separated during the Battle of Winterfell, including Benjen Stark.

They had been entrusted by a mysterious individual who claimed to be a 'Greenseer' to find Viserys. This individual seemed to want to meet Viserys but was unable to do so for some reason...

Tyrion had followed this group from the frozen wasteland of the North to a few small boats. Due to a lack of information, they had sailed towards Dragonstone.

But Viserys was not there. They were captured as spies by the soldiers of the Golden Company and brought before Princess Rhaenys.

In order to survive, Tyrion had knelt before Rhaenys and pledged his allegiance to House Targaryen, promising to deliver King's Landing to her.

Tyrion then followed the Targaryen army to King's Landing. He was captured by the gold cloaks when he tried to sneak into the city through the Mud Gate, leading to the reunion with his brother.

Jaime was somewhat dumbfounded after hearing Tyrion's thrilling tale. Tyrion's life during this period was even more exciting than a story.

"How could this be..."

He couldn't believe that their father had tried to kill his own son.

What he found even harder to believe was that Tyrion had openly told him that he had pledged his allegiance to Princess Rhaenys and was planning to help her take King's Landing.

"I know, you made that promise out of desperation to survive."

The handsome golden-haired knight was silent for a moment before finally speaking.

"No."

However, Tyrion shook his head and spoke in a low voice, once again raising his wine glass and taking a sip.

Jaime's eyes narrowed slightly, and he looked at Tyrion with disbelief. He couldn't help but ask, "Why, Tyrion?"

"Weren't you forced to make that promise to survive? Such a promise doesn't count."

"Do you think you can hold King's Landing?"

Tyrion suddenly interrupted his brother, put down his wine glass, and asked.

Jaime was taken aback, then opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for words.

Tyrion, with a piercing gaze, looked at Jaime, who was suddenly at a loss for words. He paused for a moment, then continued to ask, repeating his previous question.

"Do you think you can hold King's Landing, Jaime?"

"Under the dragon's flame..."

"I may not have witnessed how Viserys defeated the White Walkers, but I have seen how the White Walkers destroy humanity."

"The burning flames were extinguished, the muddy swamps became flat land, all thanks to the Night King, who was more terrifying than any god I could imagine. People were killed by the White Walkers and then rose again, in an endless cycle."

Tyrion's low voice echoed in the room, but Jaime, who had been silent for a while, suddenly interrupted his brother, his tone slightly raised.

"But I will die!"

Jaime Lannister looked at Tyrion, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his fingers slightly white.

"And Cersei... Cersei might meet the same fate."

Tyrion, hearing this, was silent for a while before sighing and shaking his head.

"That's what you wanted to say, isn't it, Jaime?"

"You care about Cersei more than you care about yourself."

The knight in white was silent, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his fingers slightly white.

Jaime didn't say anything more, but stood up from his chair, pushing the table away.

"In that case, Tyrion, you'll stay here for now."

"I've already asked for help from Balon Greyjoy at Pyke. The reinforcements from the Stormlands are on their way. Whether it's the dragon, the barbarians, or... that little devil, I'll prove to you that I can defeat them."

When he mentioned Viserys, Jaime couldn't help but think of the young prince he had escorted out of King's Landing more than a decade ago.

At that time, he had personally put the boy in the carriage and escorted the convoy out of King's Landing before returning.

Viserys's eyes were filled with 'he knew what had happened', he knew everything.

But he didn't cry or make a fuss like a seven-year-old child would. Instead, he tried to control his emotions, making him seem calm, but occasionally he couldn't hide his panic.

It was for this reason that Jaime had a deep impression of Viserys at that time.

But he never thought that after more than a decade, the boy he had personally sent away would come back and want to take his life.

Jaime's hand was on the hilt of his sword. After saying these words, he turned to leave.

He wanted to make his departure look confident, as if he had everything under control, like that young boy back then.

But he didn't expect the leg of the chair to get in his way.

Thud—

Jaime stumbled, almost falling, looking somewhat embarrassed, but he left without looking back.

Tyrion, however, was silent, not saying a word. He picked up his wine glass from the table and watched his brother leave.

It seemed that he had already anticipated this outcome. Jaime was not one to surrender easily.

Chapter 442: Secret Talks in the Red Keep

That night.

Not long after Jaime Lannister left the dungeons of the City Watch.

Rumble—

The sound of the carriage wheels crushing the cobblestones echoed in the night. A drizzle had fallen, the raindrops pattering on the roof of the carriage. The rainwater on the ground gathered into small streams, flowing into the deepest parts of the alleyways.

A carriage, shrouded in black cloth, stopped in front of the dungeon's main gate. It picked up Tyrion, who was supposed to be temporarily detained here under Jaime's orders, and then disappeared into the bustling streets of King's Landing.

"I've wondered who in King's Landing might be serving the Targaryen family."

Tyrion sat in the carriage, appearing calm. Everything that was happening was under his control. However, the person sitting across from him in the carriage was somewhat unexpected.

"But I never thought it would be you."

Tyrion's wine glass never left his hand, but this time he didn't drink. His gaze was somewhat complex.

The person sitting in front of him was none other than the King's Master of Whisperers, 'the Spider' Varys.

This rotund, bald eunuch, with a hint of rouge about him, was dressed in brightly colored fine silk and soft shoes.

However, these were not for his personal aesthetic or preferences, but to hide his scent, the sound of his footsteps, and to allow him to assume a different identity without immediate recognition.

"The spider has eight legs, my lord."

Upon hearing Tyrion's words, Varys, sitting across from him in the carriage, slowly opened his eyes and spoke calmly.

He merely hinted at something, without explaining in detail.

"According to the information I've received, this city is on the brink of disaster."

"Viserys's army has surrounded Riverrun. If our king, or your father, or Stannis, or even the Duke of Winterfell could suddenly perform heroically, defeating the dragon, the Dothraki... oh, and the giants, perhaps our kingdom could be saved."

Varys spoke in a quiet voice.

He received the information earlier than the high-ranking nobles of King's Landing. In fact, much of that information was deliberately released by him. According to the information Varys received, Viserys had already surrounded Riverrun, but subsequent information had not yet come back.

"I never thought a eunuch would worry about the country and its people."

Tyrion scoffed, his voice tinged with sarcasm. He wasn't in a good mood, pulling back a bit of the curtain to look at the rainy scenery outside.

At this moment, the streets of King's Landing were pitch black, with only the sound of the raindrops.

The most prosperous city in the Seven Kingdoms was under curfew due to the war. There were gold cloaks patrolling the streets, but they all turned a blind eye to this carriage.

"Dwarves can ponder national affairs, so naturally eunuchs can too."

Hearing Tyrion's harsh words, Varys calmly retorted.

Both of them, one a eunuch and the other a dwarf, had no right to look down on each other.

"Actually, I'm not serving the Targaryen family. Viserys probably doesn't even know my name."

"I'm doing this for myself."

Varys had little contact with Viserys, and he believed that Viserys probably hadn't heard of his humble name.

Before meeting Varys, Tyrion indeed hadn't heard from Rhaenys that there was a mole for the Targaryen family in King's Landing. He looked at Varys somewhat curiously, not understanding why he would do this.

Not for profit, but to be a... good person?

However, he knew better than to easily believe a eunuch's words, so Tyrion squinted his eyes slightly.

Varys seemed to know that Tyrion didn't believe him, and then he spoke in a quiet voice.

"War is coming, and I don't know how many people in this city will die. The dragon's fire will burn King's Landing, just as the 'Mad King' wanted to blow up King's Landing with wildfire years ago."

Varys looked at Tyrion.

"I just want more people to survive."

Rumble—

Then the carriage entered the Red Keep. The guards of the Red Keep silently made way.

It turned out that the real dignitary who wanted to see Tyrion tonight was none other than the current queen who held the reins of government, Tyrion's own sister, Cersei Lannister.

And the queen's other brother, Jaime Lannister, who was now the commander of the city's defenses, was braving the drizzle to inspect the city walls.

Cersei and Tyrion's secret meeting place was in Maegor's Holdfast, in Cersei's bedroom. Besides Cersei's personal maid, there was no one else here, not even the Kingsguard.

Led by the maid, Tyrion hurriedly entered the main door, and then saw the queen, dressed in a pale yellow gown, sitting quietly behind the dining table.

At this moment, the dining table was filled with food and red wine. There was a little residue in Cersei's cup. It seemed that before Tyrion's arrival, Cersei had been drinking alone for a while.

"Cersei."

Tyrion looked at the beautiful blonde queen and then paused to greet her.

The maid who had led him here bowed slightly and then left the room, gently closing the door.

"I didn't want to see you at all, you know?"

"Tyrion."

Cersei sat at the end of the dining table, slightly raising her delicate chin, looking at her dwarf brother in front of her. There was no trace of familial affection in her eyes, only indifference and even a bit of hatred.

"But when father said you were dead, Jaime dug a grave for you in the godswood with his own sword, and I shed a few tears for you in Maegor's Holdfast."

Tyrion was silent for a moment after hearing his sister's words. He looked into Cersei's eyes. He believed that she had no reason to lie about this.

So after a long silence, he shrugged.

"So... it seems I should be grateful for the few tears you shed for me?"

He could feel the complex emotions in her at the moment, forcibly maintaining the surface glamour. She was the noble queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but the panic in her eyes could no longer be hidden, not even as well as a seven-year-old boy. That's why she was so eager to find Tyrion.

However, Cersei merely scoffed lightly on the surface, then went straight to the point.

"I heard from Jaime that you've now pledged allegiance to the Targaryen family, are you Rhaenys's envoy?"

Tyrion nodded slightly in admission when he heard Cersei's words.

"Yes, Princess Rhaenys has appointed me to persuade the city to surrender."

He didn't mention that he had promised to deliver King's Landing to Rhaenys with his own head.

"Hmph—"

Upon hearing Tyrion's words, a sarcastic smile appeared on Cersei's beautiful face.

"So you're already 'Princess

Rhaenys' now..."

"You really are the kind of person who would do something like this, Tyrion."

Cersei, holding her wine glass, stood up from her chair and walked to the balcony. The light rain outside was still falling, the night of King's Landing was deep, and the candlelight illuminated the woman's white neck, reflecting a soft glow.

Then the beautiful blonde queen drained the red wine in her cup, placed the wine glass on the balcony, turned around and said,

"Since that's the case, I won't beat around the bush."

"Tyrion."

"If I'm willing to surrender the city and deliver King's Landing intact, what terms would Viserys offer me?"

Chapter 443: Ambush

The secret talks between Tyrion and Cersei lasted a long time.

Cersei was like a cornered beast, tightly holding King's Landing in her grasp, tying the lives of hundreds of thousands of citizens to her own.

She was a woman, lacking the prowess of men on the battlefield, and her self-proclaimed astute political maneuvers were not particularly clever.

But she stubbornly believed in one thing: Viserys absolutely did not want a King's Landing littered with corpses and ruins.

Otherwise, the soldiers of the Golden Company, bearing the banner of 'Fire Dragon Above, Gold Below,' would have begun the siege from the first day they arrived.

This was the modified military flag of the Golden Company after joining the Targaryen camp. On a yellow flag, the emblem of the three-headed fire dragon representing the Targaryen family was above, and the golden skull symbol of the Golden Company was below.

This symbolized the Golden Company's submission to the Targaryen family, but they still wanted to maintain a certain degree of integrity.

This was a bit of caution from the commanders of the Golden Company. They were afraid that after joining the Targaryen camp, they would be torn apart and slaughtered.

This was also one of the conditions for the Golden Company to join the Targaryen family for free.

"The Unsullied and the Golden Company are strong, but it won't be easy to break through King's Landing."

Under the candlelight swaying gently with the wind, Cersei bit her teeth slightly and spoke.

"Viserys... He will only agree to my terms, not to kill Joffrey, Myrcella, and Jaime, then I will hand over King's Landing to him intact."

Being able to protect the lives of her children and brother was her bottom line. She could not give up the lives of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Jaime.

In fact, as early as when 'Littlefinger' Petyr Baelish returned from Pentos, he brought good news.

She didn't know the specific negotiation process between Petyr and Viserys, because this matter could not be publicized.

But Littlefinger Petyr Baelish swore to the beautiful queen that Viserys had accepted her proposal.

Littlefinger claimed that Viserys agreed as soon as he heard Cersei's name, even salivating, eager to take her to bed.

Because he had heard of the beautiful and virtuous Queen Cersei across the Narrow Sea, known as the first beauty of the Seven Kingdoms, and the gap between Lyanna Stark and her was like the difference between the light of a torch and the rising sun.

But when Cersei first heard Littlefinger's words, she was happy but didn't fully believe it, and was somewhat skeptical.

Because it is well known among the nobles of King's Landing that Petyr is a habitual liar.

"The words of the spider and Littlefinger in King's Landing are the least credible."

And he didn't bring back any tokens that could corroborate his words, and since then, the Targaryen family has not actively contacted her.

Therefore, when the army from Dragonstone was pressing the border, Cersei chose to close the door and wait for the wind and clouds to change.

Because she ordered the assassination of Hand of the King Jon Arryn due to the exposure of her incestuous relationship with her brother, her other path had already been blocked. Now the last path left for Cersei is to believe in Petyr Baelish's words.

And now Tyrion's arrival is like a lifesaver.

The noble and beautiful queen seemed calm on the surface, as if everything was under her control, but she secretly hid from her brother Jaime, hastily summoning Tyrion to the Red Keep for a secret meeting, because she knew that Jaime would definitely not want to surrender.

The secret talks between Tyrion and his sister Cersei continued until midnight, and no one knew the specific negotiation results.

Then, the commander of the city defense team, Janos Slynt, led more than fifty gold cloaks in a surprise attack on Jaime Lannister, who had just finished patrolling and came down from the city wall, and his other sworn brother, Arys Oakheart, as well as their Red Keep guards.

King's Landing was not quiet this night, the drizzle overhead, splashing water on the ground.

Two men, wearing white armor without a family crest and covered in raincoats, were chatting while walking down the steps from the city wall.

Jaime and Arys had a decent private relationship, mainly because Jaime simply despised Meryn Trant, Boros Blount, Preston Greenfield, and Mandon Moore. He believed that these four had no knightly qualities and should not be called knights but killers.

Although Arys and the other four were all promoted by Cersei as five Kingsguard members, Arys was... better.

Facing some dishonorable actions such as slapping girls, at least Arys would protest first, then execute, while the other four would do it without hesitation, regardless of good or bad.

Jaime had just inspected the walls of King's Landing, found some loopholes and problems in the city defense, and ordered the soldiers to correct them.

Yesterday he received a reply from the Eyrie, Duke Arryn said he was aware of the siege of King's Landing and was willing to send some reinforcements to support King's Landing.

With the help of reinforcements, Jaime felt much more relaxed, at least the pressure was not so great.

But for some reason, he couldn't help but think of what Tyrion had said during the day.

"Even the most loyal dog will bite its master when it's about to starve."

What does Tyrion's sentence mean?

Could it be that Janos Slynt, the commander of the city defense team, has secretly betrayed the Lannister family?

How did Tyrion know?

Has Janos Slynt made contact with the Targaryen family? Should he take him down in advance?

But if he cripples himself because of a word from Tyrion, without any evidence, it would be too easy for the Targaryen family to deal with them.

Jaime, with one hand on the hilt of his sword, slowly walked down from the city wall, the armor on his body making a sound, his thoughts were a bit drifting, he didn't hear what Arys had just said.

At this time, on the main road under the Gate of the Gods that runs through King's Landing, a group of city defense team soldiers in the distance were holding torches, stepping on the rainwater. They were wearing thick wool dyed gold, their armor, helmets, and weapons reflecting light, walking in this direction.

Jaime saw these people with one hand still on the hilt of his sword, but he stopped slightly, the smile on his face slowly disappearing.

Because he saw that the leader of these gold cloaks was Janos Slynt, whom he had just been thinking about.

What does he want to do with so many people here?

"Damn it."

For some reason, Jaime suddenly had a strong bad feeling in his heart, and then he suddenly drew his sword and shouted loudly.

"Run!"

Chapter 444: Ambush in the Rainy Night

At this moment, the gold cloaks on the opposite side had already launched their attack.

Thud, thud, thud—

In the rainy night, the sound of crossbow bolts being fired echoed, and the bolts, gleaming with a cold, harsh light, pierced through the gray curtain of rain and flew straight towards them.

Thump, thump, thump—

In the light drizzle, blood blossomed forth. In an instant, several of the Red Keep guards who had accompanied Jaime let out screams of agony, falling one after another as they were struck by arrows.

Among them, two white-cloaked knights with exceptional martial skills reacted swiftly.

Arys Oakheart drew his sword, slashing left and right, cutting down several bolts. On the other side, Jaime rolled on the spot, taking cover next to the door of a closed tavern on the side of the street, using the boxes placed at the entrance as a shield.

"What are you trying to do?!"

"Is this a rebellion?!"

Arys was both shocked and furious, but the only response to his raised torch was another crossbow bolt, which nailed itself into the barrier in front of him, sending wood chips flying.

Arys Oakheart turned his head and exchanged a glance with Jaime.

There was no need to ask any more questions at this point. The city watch's standard weapons did not include crossbows. These deadly weapons could only be taken from the armory under unconventional circumstances.

"Damn that Janos Slynt!"

"I'll have his head!"

Jaime spat fiercely, believing that the commander of the city watch, Janos Slynt, had betrayed the Iron Throne and secretly sided with the Targaryens.

He never considered whether this matter had anything to do with his sister, let alone what role his brother Tyrion might have played in it.

"Kill!"

After a round of shooting, the Red Keep guards fell one after another, and the gold cloaks then charged forward, shouting their battle cries.

"Capture the Kingslayer!"

"Seize Jaime Lannister!"

In the rainy night, the two sides began to fight in the streets of King's Landing's busiest main road. The sounds of metal clashing and battle cries filled the air.

Clang, clang—

A Red Keep guard, clad in red armor, cut down a gold cloak, but was immediately impaled by three or four spears, blood flowing from his mouth as he fell into a pool of blood.

The Red Keep guards that Jaime had brought with him were well-equipped and brave, but they were outnumbered. The gold cloaks were too many, and they had the deadly crossbows. From the beginning, the battle was one-sided.

The Red Keep guards were killed one by one, Arys Oakheart was surrounded, the white-cloaked knight fought bravely, slashing left and right, killing several gold cloaks, but he himself was also seriously injured.

Thud—

Arys's abdomen was pierced by a gold cloak wielding a long spear, pinning him against a mud wall behind him, dust and blood flying.

The white-cloaked knight let out a painful grunt, but he bit his teeth and gripped the spear shaft with one hand, blood flowing through his fingers, his arm muscles trembling slightly, preventing the spear from going any further.

Seeing Arys's bravery, the gold cloak holding the spear was slightly taken aback.

However, in the moment he was stunned, Arys roared and threw his long sword directly, piercing the gold cloak's throat.

Thump—

The gold cloak fell, his face full of disbelief, but his body lost all strength and fell limply.

Arys immediately pulled out the spear stuck in his abdomen with his blood-soaked hands, threw it aside, and picked up his thrown long sword.

The white-cloaked knight, a member of the Kingsguard and one of the best knights in the realm, killed many gold cloaks even while seriously injured.

On the other side, Jaime Lannister was no pushover either, with even more gold cloaks falling around him than Arys.

However, the Kingslayer did not suffer any serious injuries, all the blood on him came from his enemies.

Firstly, Jaime's swordsmanship was extremely superb, and he was considered one of the bravest in the Seven Kingdoms.

Secondly, the enemy was clearly more lenient with Jaime than with Arys, aiming to capture him alive from the beginning.

Cersei knew that her brother would never willingly relinquish his military power and obediently surrender to her arrangements.

The two had argued many times over this issue, and never reached a consensus.

Jaime was heartbroken, thinking that Cersei did not care about his life.

He had once broken his vows to prevent the Mad King from blowing up King's Landing, becoming a Kingslayer. Now, if he fell into the hands of the Mad King's son, how could he possibly survive?

Cersei, on the other hand, believed that King's Landing could not be defended. The only way to save Joffrey, Myrcella, and Jaime's lives was this path. The worst outcome might just be donning the black, which was better than death.

But Cersei underestimated Jaime's need for her, for which he was willing to go through fire and water, at all costs.

The one-sided battle finally showed its outcome, all the Red Keep guards were killed in the street.

On the slippery street, Kingsguard Arys Oakheart also died tragically on the battlefield, pinned in place by six spears.

Jaime, however, seized the opportunity. Taking advantage of the enemy's intention to capture him alive, he cut a bloody path and slipped into the alley, hoping to escape.

"Chase him!"

"Capture the Kingslayer!"

Seeing this, the commander of the city watch, Janos Slynt, became anxious.

The most important target had escaped, and he had no way to report to the queen. He had given Jaime too much leeway to escape, so Janos Slynt hastily ordered everyone to chase after him.

"Remember! Take him alive!"

He also emphasized once again that they must capture Jaime alive and not harm him.

The queen's intention was merely to detain him. If Jaime were brought back as a corpse, Janos Slynt feared the queen would have his head as well.

"Chase him!"

"Don't run!"

Then, the two sides chased and fled, weaving through the dimly lit alleys of King's Landing.

Jaime, with his excellent martial skills and strong physique, managed to lose the gold cloaks after several twists and turns, disappearing into the darkness.

"Huh?"

"Where did he go?"

The gold cloaks lost Jaime and stood at the intersection of six alleyways, somewhat at a loss.

On the other side, Bronn and his companion Chiggen, mercenaries hired in advance by Tyrion, were lying in ambush on the main road leading directly from the Gate of the Gods to the Red Keep.

They were waiting to rescue a certain 'fat sheep' worth a hundred gold dragons who was being captured by the gold cloaks, kill all the gold cloaks, and then send him off to the eastern continent.

Unfortunately, it was already past the scheduled time, even considerably so, but the target mentioned by their employer had not shown any signs of appearing.

If it weren't for the fact that their employer
had paid a hefty sum of thirty gold dragons in advance, they might even think they had been played.

"What the hell is going on?"

Chiggen, the mercenary, asked impatiently from the darkness.

On the other side, Bronn, with his black hair and scruffy beard, gave him a slight glare.

"Shut up!"

"Keep waiting!"

Chapter 445: Unrest in King's Landing

Tonight, a light drizzle fell from the moonless, dark sky.

Under the cover of night, King's Landing was under a strict curfew, so the street battle didn't cause too much chaos.

"Quick!"

"Over here!"

Only the residents living near the Gate of the Gods peered through the cracks of their doors and curtains, watching the gold cloaks, torches in hand, clean up the battlefield littered with debris.

"Hurry up!"

"Move faster!"

Thud—

The bodies of the Red Keep guards were dragged away one by one, loaded onto wagons, and covered with black cloth.

Blood was splattered all over the ground, dripping onto the wooden planks and then crushed into the mud by the wheels of the wagons.

Among the bodies, there was even a Kingsguard, though it was unclear which knight it was.

The citizens of King's Landing who witnessed all this hid in their homes, trembling, not daring to breathe too loudly for fear of bringing disaster upon themselves.

They knew they might have witnessed history, a shocking palace coup involving the lords and ministers of the kingdom, something beyond the comprehension of commoners.

The city watch, under the leadership of Janos Slynt, followed Queen Cersei's orders to attack the commander of the city's defense, Jaime Lannister, who was also the queen's younger brother and a member of the Kingsguard.

The queen demanded that Jaime's safety be ensured, only to control him and strip him of his military power.

However, Janos Slynt, incompetent as he was, messed up what seemed like a simple task. Jaime managed to carve out a bloody path and successfully escape, disappearing without a trace.

When Queen Cersei heard about this, she was furious. She ordered a continued search for her brother and took control of all the city's troops, ensuring they wouldn't fall into chaos at this critical time.

That night.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Squads of fully armed gold cloaks, torches held high, began a massive search throughout King's Landing, hoping to find the missing Jaime Lannister.

"Over here!"

"Kick the door open!"

Thud—

Janos Slynt, commander of the city watch, waved his hand, and the gold cloak soldiers kicked open the door of a house suspected of hiding a Kingsguard, then rushed in.

However, they didn't find Jaime inside, only the terrified screams of the homeowners.

On the other hand, the mercenaries hired by Tyrion at a high price to hijack the prison cart were also somewhat at a loss.

They were not the nobles of the throne room and didn't know what had happened. They just felt that the gold cloaks were frantically searching for someone throughout the city.

Bronn, the mercenary, sensed something was wrong. He had killed people since he was twelve and was an experienced pragmatist with no morals.

He sensed the danger and decisively abandoned the idea of completing the commission to get more gold dragons.

Although Tyrion had paid him thirty gold dragons, this couldn't make him take bigger risks to stay here.

"Let's go!"

In the end, this lean man with a face as fierce as a starving wolf, seeing the increasing number of gold cloaks and the increasingly chaotic situation outside, finally gritted his teeth and spoke.

"Retreat!"

But it was already too late. A sharp-eyed gold cloak holding a torch spotted them.

"Halt!"

"What are you doing here!"

King's Landing was under curfew. If it were normal times, a few mercenaries with swords and daggers might not attract attention, but in these special times, Bronn and his men stood out.

The gold cloak spotted them and shouted loudly, attracting more city watch soldiers. A group of men with spears surrounded them.

"Damn it!"

Bronn saw that things were going south. His eyes flickered, and he decisively abandoned his companions, diving into a dark alley.

The mercenaries had no spirit of resistance. Although they were more ferocious than the gold cloaks, the gold cloaks outnumbered them.

Seeing Bronn turn and flee, they decisively followed suit and scattered.

However, Bronn reacted quickly and got a head start, while the other mercenaries were a bit slower. Although the gold cloaks were not strong fighters, they had more weapons and men than the mercenaries.

So, Bronn's companions fell one by one, some dead, some injured. Only he, relying on his skills, managed to escape, disappearing without a trace.

This was just a small episode of the night.

For the city watch, it was just a side task while searching for Jaime Lannister, conveniently eliminating a group of disobedient mercenaries.

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.

The gold cloaks were searching high and low for the queen's brother.

And Bronn felt he had been tricked by Tyrion. He was looking all over for him to settle the score, demanding more money to compensate for the lives of his beloved friends and brothers.

...

On the other hand, in a corner of Flea Bottom in King's Landing, this was Flour Street, heading west from Rhaenys's Hill.

The roads of Flea Bottom were as complex as a maze, with the stench of pigsties, stables, and tanneries mixed with the smell of wine cellars and brothels.

The missing Jaime, at some point, had changed out of his blood-stained white armor and into a gold cloak, half-covering his face.

At this moment, he was silently looking at a naked male body in front of him with a gloomy expression.

He had just caught a lone city watch soldier, dragged him here, pried open his mouth to find out what had happened, but the answer Jaime got made his heart turn cold.

He had thought that Janos Slynt had betrayed the Iron Throne, betrayed the Lannister family, because his brother Tyrion had hinted at it.

But he didn't expect to learn from this gold cloak that the person who ordered his arrest and removal of all military power was the queen.

Cersei decided to surrender to the Targaryen army, and Jaime, who had previously argued fiercely with Cersei and refused to hand over his military power, became an obstacle to the surrender.

On the other hand, Tyrion, who should have been imprisoned in the dungeons of King's Landing, had already left there by carriage.

"Cersei..."

"Tyrion..."

Jaime's breathing was slightly heavy. He suddenly felt that he had been betrayed by the whole world, even his sister and brother had betrayed him.

Didn't they know that after surrendering, he would die?

However, King's Landing was now full of dangers, and he didn't have much time left.

The noise not far away was getting closer and closer. The handsome blond knight didn't have much time to stay silent.

He couldn't return to the Red Keep, so where should he go next?

Casterly Rock?

Jaime looked up at the sky, which was gradually turning a fish-belly white, then wiped the rain and tears from his face.

Dressed in a gold cloak's armor and clothes, he quickly picked up a spear and hurriedly walked towards the distance.

Chapter 446: Victory Without Bloodshed

The spring rain continued unabated, but as the night's tumult subsided, dawn was breaking.

Boom!

The gates of King's Landing suddenly swung open. The City Watch, now under strict control, had not caused much chaos in the streets due to the strict curfew. The God's Gate, directly leading to the Red Keep, was now wide open, with soldiers lining both sides of the street.

A massive silhouette swept over the city, the roar of a dragon awakening the grand city from its slumber.

"Roar!"

Rhaegal, the dragon with bronze scales, circled in the sky, spreading his wings and letting out another mournful roar.

"Dragons."

"Gods."

The gold cloaks below looked up at the sky, their legs trembling. The citizens of King's Landing had not slept a wink that night. Instinctively, they knew something significant had happened, or else the gold cloaks wouldn't have been scouring the city all night.

However, when dawn broke, the truth they had been waiting for had not yet arrived. Instead, the roar of a dragon echoed from above. The citizens of King's Landing hid in their homes, trembling. Those with cellars had already crawled into them, believing that Daenerys Targaryen, after besieging King's Landing for several days, was preparing to storm the city.

Unexpectedly, the queen ordered the city gates to be opened to welcome the Targaryen forces.

The elephants of the Golden Company, covered in heavy armor and decorated with gold on their tusks, marched forward with heavy steps. The soldiers of the Golden Company, clad in bright golden armor and holding weapons, followed the elephants into the city through the God's Gate.

The banners of the three-headed dragon and the golden skull fluttered in the wind. The commander of the Golden Company, Harry Strickland, rode a tall horse, also clad in golden armor with a long sword at his waist. He looked around at the grand capital of the Seven Kingdoms, noting the fearful eyes of the citizens. To them, the soldiers of the Golden Company were not returning home; they were naked invaders.

"I never thought King's Landing would look like this," Harry Strickland said, holding the reins in one hand and swaying slightly with the movement of his horse.

The Strickland family, once a house of the Stormlands, had a house motto of 'Far and Soar.' They had indeed soared far away to the continent of Essos, and it wasn't until today that they had the chance to return.

"I also didn't expect King's Landing to smell like this. I could smell this nauseating stench from outside the city," a fat, balding man riding half a step behind Harry complained. His name was Harys Strickland, the paymaster of the Golden Company and Harry's right-hand man. He held his nose, his face showing disgust.

King's Landing was densely populated, and its sewage system was old and inadequate for the population. Compared to other cities, it was a dirty and chaotic place, and the smell of human waste could be detected from a distance. The first impression of anyone who saw the city for the first time was this nauseating smell.

Clearly, Harys Strickland, who boasted of his 'four generations of loyalty to the Golden Company,' was experiencing this smell for the first time, and he was deeply affected.

However, while the soldiers of the Golden Company showed discomfort, the Unsullied following them remained stoic, as if they couldn't smell the stench at all. They also marched into the city in orderly steps.

Seeing the Targaryen army, strong and formidable, marching into King's Landing, the City Watch and the hastily assembled militia, freeriders, and mercenaries all looked at each other. They were forced to 'welcome' the invaders by standing on both sides of the road, then reluctantly lowered their heads and dropped their weapons.

...

"Go! Confiscate all the weapons!"

"Take off your armor and put it here!"

"Line up! Stand here!"

Under Harry Strickland's command, the Golden Company quickly took control of the city's defenses. They controlled all the city's guards, including the gold cloaks, confiscated their weapons and armor, and temporarily restricted everyone's freedom.

Harry Strickland's military style was cautious. Even though the city gates were wide open, he didn't let his guard down. He took one step at a time, ensuring the safety of himself and his brothers, preventing any tricks from the Lannister queen and the imp.

After the Targaryen forces entered the city, they set up camp step by step, gradually taking control of the entire city. However, the famous princess, who had struck Dragonstone and besieged King's Landing, had not yet shown herself, which puzzled many intelligence observers.

Then, the Unsullied surrounded the Red Keep, but the gates of the Red Keep remained closed. Queen Cersei, fearing that her children, King Joffrey and Princess Myrcella, would be frightened, hoped to prevent the Unsullied from entering the Red Keep and maintain the peace of the palace for the time being.

However, Cersei's resistance didn't last long. When Rhaegal, the green dragon, landed on top of the Red Keep, causing bricks and tiles to fall and letting out a deafening roar, the gates of the Red Keep were fully opened.

The adorable blonde princess, Myrcella, was scared into tears, and King Joffrey was
also frightened, his face pale as he hid behind his mother. The dragon's tail was hanging outside the throne room.

"Control the gate!"

"Check that room!"

The commander of the Unsullied, Grey Worm, gave orders in Valyrian to his brothers.

The Unsullied were disciplined and didn't loot the wealth of the Red Keep or touch the frightened women inside. They quickly took control of the Red Keep.

Most of the Red Keep's guards willingly dropped their weapons. Those who dared to resist were mercilessly speared by the Unsullied. As for the two remaining Kingsguard of Robert, Boros Blount and Preston Greenfield, they also didn't resist.

They had heard about the events of the previous night. Jaime had disappeared, Arys was surrounded and killed by the gold cloaks, so they were naturally very aware of the situation.

Outside the throne room was a scene of chaos. The beautiful blonde queen, holding her daughter and pulling her son Joffrey, sat on the Iron Throne. She tried to calm herself, but her pale face and trembling hands revealed her nervousness.

Especially when the soldiers of the Golden Company reported to Harry Strickland that they had found a large amount of wildfire scattered throughout King's Landing, her nervousness was almost impossible to hide.

Chapter 447: Control of King's Landing

This was a massive amount of wildfire produced by humans to resist the White Walkers.

But a batch that was produced and not yet transported to the battlefield was left behind when the war between humans and White Walkers ended.

Cersei had made up her mind that if Viserys decided not to spare the lives of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Jaime, she would order the ignition of this wildfire to perish together with the Targaryen army.

But unexpectedly, this wildfire was discovered before Viserys himself arrived in King's Landing.

"Sir."

In the throne room, a soldier from the Golden Company reported to Myles Toyne about the discovery of the wildfire storage.

Upon hearing this, Myles Toyne was not surprised, he just nodded slightly.

He told the soldier to handle the wildfire properly, send heavy troops to guard it, strictly supervise it, not allow anyone to approach, and move it out of the city at night.

Although the Golden Company did not participate in the war between humans and White Walkers, the news of the coalition using wildfire to resist the White Walkers had already spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

This weapon was extremely powerful, and the green flames produced after the explosion could burn everything to ashes.

Even rumors said that after the White Walkers retreated, the coalition did not continue to chase across the Neck to recover the North because the power of the big explosion in the Bay of Claws was too great, destroying the causeway that could ensure the army's journey across the Neck.

Therefore, it cut off the hope of the army to recover the North, and then the human civil war broke out due to the struggle for power, which extinguished this faint hope of recovering the North by sea in the cradle.

Myles Toyne had long heard of the name of wildfire, and he was on guard for the possible storage of wildfire in King's Landing before entering the city. Therefore, he sent out soldiers for a rigorous search, and finally found some in a hidden cellar, but this was definitely not all the wildfire, there was still storage in King's Landing.

The commander of the Golden Company, with an ugly face and a big nose, looked up at the pale-faced Queen Cersei sitting on the Iron Throne.

The beautiful queen, who was usually elegant and noble, looked a bit nervous at this moment, after all, her plot had been exposed.

And Tyrion, standing not far from Cersei, sighed slightly when he saw this scene.

Cersei did not inform Tyrion in advance about her secret storage of wildfire.

She only warned Tyrion that if Viserys could not spare Jaime's life, she would make the Targaryen family pay the price.

But what Tyrion didn't expect was that his sister actually adopted this crazy method of trying to perish together with all the people in the city.

However, Cersei didn't want Jaime to die, and Tyrion felt the same.

Tyrion also didn't tell Cersei that he had hired a group of mercenaries to attempt a prison break, let Bronn and others seize the opportunity to secretly transfer Jaime out of King's Landing, and then plan to send him to the Eastern Continent.

But unfortunately, this plan also failed. Jaime took advantage of the opportunity when the gold cloaks dared not kill him, decisively killed his way out and escaped, and to this day he is missing. Even Tyrion and Cersei don't know where he went.

And Tyrion didn't actually distrust Cersei, fearing that she would leak the secret, but knew that the fewer people who knew about this matter, the better. Otherwise, if this matter was linked to him, Tyrion would also be hard to escape death.

Therefore, Cersei was hiding from Tyrion, and Tyrion was also hiding from Cersei. The last two Lannisters in King's Landing were still on guard against each other, and the final result was naturally a mess.

"Lord Myles Toyne."

Perhaps it was because Cersei confessed that she had shed two tears for him.

After sighing, Tyrion still took the initiative to stand up and speak for his sister.

"The storage conditions for wildfire are extremely harsh, it must be stored underground, away from sunlight, so there are many storage points underground in King's Landing."

"And many of them are wildfire left over from the previous king's period, which has not been found to this day."

Here, the 'previous king' Tyrion referred to was Viserys's father, 'Mad King' Aerys Targaryen II.

Aerys made a lot of wildfire, and there are still storage points that have not been found to this day.

Tyrion was afraid that Myles Toyne would put this part of the blame on Cersei's head, so he made an explanation in advance.

And Myles Toyne also nodded slightly, he had already sent soldiers to capture the head of the Alchemist's Guild, asking him to cooperate in finding where the remaining wildfire was stored.

And at this time, there was a sudden sound of footsteps and the neat sound of Unsullied soldiers' spears hitting the ground outside the throne room of the Red Keep.

"Your Highness."

"Your Highness."

The faces of the many kings, nobles, and Tyrion and Cersei in the throne room tightened slightly, they knew who was coming.

Boom!

Then the doors of the throne room were pushed open by two Unsullied guards, and a brown-haired girl in military uniform walked in with her hand on the hilt of her sword, followed by several frightened women and children.

They were the wife and daughter of Stannis, the Duke of Dragonstone, and the survivors of the Valyrian family and the foster son of Rosby.

The Targaryen army came from the sea and swept the king's land, and Rosby naturally fell into their hands first. Earl Gyles wanted to close the door and not come out, but was burned to death by Rhaenys riding a dragon and a mouthful of dragon fire.

And Cersei, sitting on the Iron Throne, saw Rhaenys stride in, her palms full of sweat. She wanted to maintain the dignity of the queen and retain the last dignity.

But when the gaze of the 'new conqueror' came over, Cersei could not bear the psychological pressure after all, after all, the soldiers around her were all Targaryens.

Cersei might regret surrendering the city so easily at this time, but if she refused to surrender, she might end up worse.

Then the beautiful blonde queen, holding her daughter and pulling Joffrey, still got up from the Iron Throne, enduring the humiliation in her heart, and slightly bowed in courtesy.

"Princess Rhaenys."

Then she retreated to the side in a gloomy manner, clearing the way to the Iron Throne.

But Rhaenys didn't pay attention to Cersei, she stood at the bottom of the steps, looking at the throne made of thousands of swords, and remained silent.

This was a lump of iron full of spikes, sharp corners, and twisted metal, but it attracted countless people.

Rhaenys was still young, but growing up in such a special family, she had a deep understanding of power.

Whoosh!

Then the brown-haired girl walked up the steps step by step without saying a word, her custom-made lady's armor making
a metallic sound.

She walked past Cersei, but didn't even look at her. The Prince Joffrey, who was not much younger than her, was trembling slightly out of fear.

Rhaenys came to the front of the Iron Throne, touched the cold, spike-covered lump of iron, and then finally spoke in Valyrian without looking back.

"Take off her crown."

Chapter 448: Ascending the Iron Throne

Cersei was taken aback. She didn't understand High Valyrian, but before she could react, two Unsullied soldiers stepped forward and removed the crown from her head.

The Unsullied, with their spears and cold eyes, not only made Myrcella cry, but also frightened Prince Joffrey into tears.

The blond boy didn't understand their language and thought these emotionless foreign soldiers were going to kill him. He was almost scared enough to wet his pants.

But to his surprise, they simply removed the crown from his mother's head.

Cersei let out a gasp. With her crown removed and her hair disheveled, she stood there, stripped of the last vestiges of her dignity, reduced to a commoner.

The Targaryen army had taken control of all of King's Landing. Members of the Small Council and nobles eligible to attend the throne room were arriving one after another. The High Septon, the fat man from the Great Sept of Baelor, was naturally present.

Cersei's crown was roughly taken by the Unsullied and brought to Princess Rhaenys. Rhaenys, in her bright armor, sat on the Iron Throne without hesitation, her gaze falling on the High Septon, a fat man in splendid robes, who was among the frightened crowd below.

The High Septon immediately understood, trembling as he walked out from the crowd, up the steps to the Iron Throne, and took the queen's crown from the Unsullied.

Then, under the watchful eye of the Unsullied, who warned him not to make any sudden moves, the corpulent High Septon shakily placed the queen's crown on Rhaenys.

Seeing Rhaenys crowned, sparse applause broke out below.

These vassals, who belonged to House Baratheon a second ago, were now cheering for the Targaryen princess in the next. Only Cersei, stripped of her crown and standing disheveled, had a hint of resentment in her eyes.

Rhaenys scanned all the people standing below, including the members of the Small Council, the nobles of the king's land, the families of the conquered castles, Lady Stark and her children. Whether they were cheering or resenting, she didn't care.

Then the young girl, crowned and sitting on the Iron Throne, spoke.

"Lady Florent."

"You will be settling here for the time being."

Selyse Florent, who was holding her daughter Shireen, naturally had no complaints.

During her time with Rhaenys, she had come to realize that the girl was not as cold and ruthless as she seemed. It was just that the constant presence of dragons made her seem somewhat unapproachable.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Then Lady Florent and the families of the Shield Islands bowed slightly and followed the soldiers out. They were to settle in the Red Keep for the time being, awaiting the arrangement of their fate.

After Lady Florent and the others left, the blonde queen and her two children were still standing alone on the steps. Little Princess Myrcella was still crying uncontrollably.

Rhaenys frowned slightly, feeling a bit of pity. After all, when she fled King's Landing, she was probably about Myrcella's age. She glanced at Cersei and then spoke.

"Usurper's wife, Cersei Lannister, I am aware of the terms you proposed."

"But I cannot agree to them at this time."

Cersei's terms were to spare the lives of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Jaime, and to preserve House Lannister.

Rhaenys could not promise her these on behalf of Viserys, especially since House Lannister had not surrendered and was reportedly still besieged in Riverrun.

These matters would have to wait until Viserys returned to make a decision. Whether to kill, to spare, or to handle in some other way.

However, for now, Rhaenys could allow Cersei and her children to live temporarily in Maegor's Holdfast. After all, Cersei had surrendered King's Landing intact, and she deserved at least that much.

Cersei, with her crown removed and her hair disheveled, holding her crying daughter and her son who had almost wet his pants out of fear, stood in the throne room feeling like she was being pricked by needles. Naturally, she was eager to leave when Rhaenys allowed her to do so.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Cersei bit her lip slightly, gave Rhaenys a deep look, and managed to hold back her tears. She then bowed slightly and said in a hoarse voice.

Then she left the throne room under the escort of the Unsullied and returned to Maegor's Holdfast.

When the group of women and children had left, Rhaenys finally turned her gaze away and looked at Tyrion, who was standing on the steps of the throne room, almost unnoticed.

"Tyrion Lannister."

Tyrion had been standing on the steps all along. He didn't belong to the kneeling nobles, nor did he seem to belong to House Targaryen. He was just a hired hand, so his position was somewhat awkward.

"Your Highness."

But fortunately, Rhaenys didn't forget him. Tyrion, hearing the girl's voice, quickly stepped forward and bowed slightly.

"You fulfilled your promise to me, taking King's Landing without a single soldier, and I will not break my word."

The brown-haired girl looked at Tyrion and blinked. She never expected that he could really take King's Landing without a single soldier.

Rhaenys had sent Tyrion out just to try, but she didn't expect to be pleasantly surprised.

"From today, you are free, and you will no longer be held accountable for your crimes."

Hearing Rhaenys's words, Tyrion breathed a sigh of relief.

In his view, it was inevitable that House Targaryen would take the Seven Kingdoms, and as a Lannister, he was one of the least forgivable. His future seemed bleak.

But now, with the promise of the princess, Tyrion felt a great burden lifted.

Although he had never met Viserys, he knew from his time with Rhaenys that Viserys was very fond of her and would often listen to her opinions.

With Rhaenys's guarantee, it was basically a pardon. Viserys would not easily execute him.

However, even though he was now a free man and could go wherever he wanted, Tyrion didn't want to leave.

Because he had nowhere else to go if he left King's Landing. His father wanted to kill him, and he wouldn't be recognized if he returned to his family.

He might as well stay in King's Landing, where someone appreciated his talents, and with the bright future of House Targaryen...

Tyrion was tempted.

"Your Highness."

Then Tyrion spoke, expressing his desire to stay in King's Landing.

The nobles in the throne room laughed. Even Catelyn shook her head. Some thought Tyrion was overreaching. How could the princess keep a dwarf in the court?

However, to everyone's surprise, Rhaenys, upon hearing Tyrion's words, showed no surprise, but a pleased expression.

She indeed recognized Tyrion's talents and told him that if he wanted to stay, she would recommend him to Viserys.

Chapter 449: The Plot in Pentos

However, Rhaenys had one last question on her mind.

"Tyrion, I heard that the Kingslayer disappeared after an attack last night. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

The Kingslayer had murdered the king he had sworn to protect. Naturally, after the Targaryen army took King's Landing, they began searching for Jaime Lannister.

They soon learned of the events of the previous night. Cersei had tried to strip Jaime of his military power, sending the city watch to attack and detain him, but Jaime had fought his way out and escaped.

Jaime was now missing, neither alive nor dead to be seen. Upon entering King's Landing, Rhaenys naturally received this information, but apart from intensifying the search, there was little else she could do.

Upon hearing Rhaenys's question, Tyrion's expression tightened slightly.

He had indeed considered such a plan, hiring mercenaries to attack the prison carriage and then send Jaime to the eastern continent, creating the illusion of an attack.

But the final outcome had many unexpected twists, and Jaime's disappearance really had nothing to do with Tyrion.

So the Imp, standing on the steps in front of the Iron Throne, shook his head solemnly and denied it.

"No, Your Highness."

"I know nothing about Jaime's disappearance."

Among the ministers below, Varys, the master of whispers, had his hands tucked into his sleeves, deeply observing Tyrion's figure on the steps, but he remained silent.

...

The Targaryen army had taken the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, King's Landing, without shedding a drop of blood, and Princess Rhaenys temporarily ascended the Iron Throne.

Then a series of orders came out from the Red Keep. First, the curfew in King's Landing, which was a continuation of Cersei's policy.

Next, a warrant was issued for the arrest of the 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister.

Anyone who found him could receive a bounty of a hundred gold dragons, and capturing him alive would reward a thousand gold dragons.

Then orders were given to Grand Maester Pycelle and the High Septon to inform the other lords and vassals of the Seven Kingdoms in the name of the Iron Throne and the Seven Gods that King's Landing had changed hands and they were ordered to surrender immediately.

During this time, the situation on the continent of Westeros was changing rapidly, while the continent of Essos had become relatively quiet, except for several internal wars among the Dothraki on the Great Grass Sea.

In distant Vaes Dothrak, by the 'Womb of the World' lake, it seemed that a hero had risen who had united the Dothraki.

During this time, the Dothraki were all involved in internal wars and did not bother the Free Cities, who had been enjoying a period of peace.

Meanwhile, in the pearl of the bay, Pentos, Viserys's base, a plot was quietly unfolding.

The Beggar Prince had secretly summoned a group of mysterious guests in the Prince's Palace. They were once the elite of Pentos, including the ruling families and the ancient nobility of Pentos.

They held wealth that could rival nations. It was said that their bathtubs were filled with milk, and even their toilets were made of pure gold.

However, all of this disappeared after Viserys arrived.

After the purge on the night of blood, the survivors of these families harbored resentment towards Viserys and the Beggar Prince.

Their wealth was naturally not only stored in one place in Pentos, so these ancient nobles and ruling families joined forces in foreign lands and secretly established a revenge organization, hoping to retake their homeland in the future.

At this time, through the connection of a certain power, the Beggar Prince and the other party began to make contact, extending olive branches to each other.

The Beggar Prince explained the cause of the night of blood to these remnants of the Pentos nobility, stating that he was a member of the noble bloodline, and if it weren't for Viserys forcing his hand, how could he have killed his own people?

The Beggar Prince wanted to be a true prince, and the remnants of the Pentos nobility wanted to restore their family's status and wealth in Pentos, so they quickly came to an agreement.

Because they had already made several contacts before, this time Viserys went on an expedition to the Seven Kingdoms, taking most of the military power of Pentos with him, and this was naturally the best opportunity.

The Beggar Prince and many family representatives gathered in the Prince's Palace, plotting to overthrow the rule of Pentos.

The Beggar Prince secretly contacted many of his old subordinates from the Windblown, promising high profits. Some of these people were not satisfied with their treatment after submitting to the Targaryen family, and thus were discontented.

As the former captain of the Windblown, the Beggar Prince knew these people better than anyone. He used their dissatisfaction and greed, and tempted them with generous benefits and a bright future.

On the other hand, these still wealthy governors and nobles hired many mercenaries and free riders to secretly infiltrate Pentos.

They wanted to replicate the plan Viserys used to take the city, even including the infamous Second Sons.

The 'Titan's Bastard', Mero, was tall, with pale green eyes and a thick, waist-length red-gold beard. His reputation was notorious, cruel and brutal, so the Second Sons rarely received commissions under his command.

But this time, the remnants of the Pentos nobility found him, and Mero agreed immediately.

He was not afraid to face the elite soldiers of the Targaryen family, he only cared about whether the dragon-controlling princess would be his, Mero wanted her to bear him a son, so his descendants could also have noble blood.

The remnants of the Pentos nobility agreed to his request without hesitation, as long as he could lead the Second Sons to break through the eunuchs' protection and capture Daenerys alive, they would reward him with the princess.

The plan was perfect, and today was the day the rebellion began.

The Beggar Prince, with his white hair and beard, put on his armor again, refreshed, and walked out of the Prince's Palace onto the street, where the guards were preparing his horse.

At this moment, a peddler pushing a cart selling seafood clams passed by him, suddenly pulled out a dagger from under the blanket, grabbed his shoulder, and stabbed him several times through the gaps in his armor.

Thud, thud, thud—

The Beggar Prince's eyes widened as he tried to grab the attacker, but he caught only air.

The attacker was extremely agile, and after stabbing him, he immediately fled. The street was instantly filled with piercing screams.

The city watch soldiers patrolling nearby simply watched coldly as the Beggar Prince fell powerlessly into a pool of blood.

Chapter 450: Rebellion in Motion

The ragged prince's venture was ill-fated. As soon as he stepped out of his own home, assassins seized the opportunity and stabbed him several times, leaving his body sprawled on the spot.

Meanwhile, the traditional nobility and remnants of the governor's family in Pentos had gathered the Second Sons, countless mercenaries, and free riders, preparing to strike at Princess Daenerys during her patrol.

The silver-haired princess wore a beautiful wreath atop her head, her silver-gold hair freely cascading over her fair shoulders. She rode a milky-white pony, its hooves striking a crisp sound against the cobblestone road.

"Her Grace, the Princess!"

"The Mother of Dragons!"

Daenerys was very popular in Pentos. Wherever she passed, the crowds would erupt into deafening cheers without any prompting.

For they had all heard the legendary tale of a girl who slept peacefully amidst a great fire, cradling three dragon eggs.

The eggs hatched in blood and fire. If Viserys was the true king by fate, then Daenerys was the one who made it all possible, the Mother of Dragons.

Thus, the people had reason to believe that Daenerys was a girl favored by the gods, a naturally noble and fortunate person. Even a single glance from her was considered a blessing.

Now that the true king Viserys had led his troops on a campaign to Westeros to reclaim his Iron Throne, and Princess Rhaenys had also joined him, Princess Daenerys was the 'queen' of Pentos.

As the princess was riding her pony on patrol, a sudden commotion erupted from the crowd. A massive shadow was flying in from the distance.

The only dragon left in Pentos by the Targaryens, Viserion, had inexplicably flown from the royal forest outside the city to the skies above Pentos. It circled above Daenerys, letting out a deep roar that echoed across the sky.

The city guard of Pentos, responsible for maintaining order, kept the enthusiastic citizens away from the princess. But the sudden descent of the dragon caused many soldiers and officers to change color.

"Damn it!"

"Why would the dragon suddenly come here?"

They suddenly felt a sense of impending doom. The dragon usually rested in the royal forest outside the city and would not come to Pentos unless something was happening...

Before they could react, Mero, the leader of the Second Sons hidden in the crowd, known as the 'Bastard of Titan', suddenly roared and lunged at Daenerys, who was protected by the Unsullied.

He too had sensed that something was off.

Daenerys' patrol this time was accompanied by three times the usual number of Unsullied soldiers, and they were on high alert. There were even shield formations on both sides to prevent sudden crossbow attacks.

The sudden descent of the dragon at this moment further stirred his deep unease into agitation.

Mero decided to act out of plan, striking first. Without waiting for signals from others, he lunged at Daenerys alone, hoping to capture the girl as a hostage.

The burly man with a thick beard reaching his waist somehow produced an axe.

"Die!"

He swung his axe at a city guard responsible for maintaining order, nearly decapitating him. Blood sprayed, and the body fell to the ground.

Mero's sudden move seemed like a signal, and the members of the Second Sons drew their swords and charged at the guards.

"Kill!"

The mercenaries and free riders bought by the remnants of the Pentos governor's family also followed suit.

"Kill!"

For a moment, cries of killing filled the narrow streets of Pentos.

Although the commander of the Unsullied, Grey Worm, had left, the remaining two thousand Unsullied had elected a deputy commander, codenamed 'Sun'.

After joining the Targaryen army, Viserys abolished their daily random name rule, allowing them to choose a name freely.

'Sun', like 'Grey Worm', had three long spikes on his helmet, the middle one being especially long, though slightly shorter than 'Grey Worm's'. This symbolized his status within the Unsullied.

He too wore the new black dragon scale armor, his dark face scanning the chaotic battlefield before he loudly commanded.

"Everyone, form up!"

"Protect Her Grace, the Princess!"

The Unsullied, facing the sudden situation, did not panic. They formed a circle around Daenerys, shields raised and spears ready.

The silver-haired princess herself was ushered onto a specially made carriage.

"Your Grace, please rest for a moment."

"We will soon rid ourselves of these rebels."

'Sun' personally helped Daenerys onto the carriage at the rear of the patrol, then spoke with a murderous tone.

This carriage was the work of Tobho Mott, the Minister of Craftsmen in Pentos, who had been invited to the royal meeting before Viserys' departure.

The carriage looked ordinary on the outside, bearing only the Targaryen family crest and appearing sturdy. However, the interior was reinforced with layers of armor steel, impervious to ordinary arrows and bolts. Even against a ballista, it had some buffering capacity, almost impregnable.

But correspondingly, due to the reinforced defense, the weight increased, and the wheels and bearings were specially made, requiring four horses to pull.

The interior of the carriage, however, was extremely comfortable.

The floor was covered with discontinued Myrish carpets, soft feather pillows, and velvet cushions, silk curtains, the epitome of luxury. It was now exclusively for the members of the Targaryen royal family.

"Thank you," Daenerys said, sitting in the special carriage, her beautiful face tense as she nodded slightly.

She appeared very calm on the surface, but her palms were sweaty.

Witnessing such a scene for the first time, Daenerys was very nervous.

But the girl was strong-willed, not wanting to lose to Rhaenys, so she appeared very calm on the surface, even though she was actually extremely nervous.

Outside, cries of killing were everywhere, and the onlooking citizens scattered and fled.

While Daenerys sat safely in the carriage, the rebels, the Second Sons, and the mercenaries kept attacking the Unsullied formation. However, the Unsullied soldiers remained unyielding from beginning to end, standing firm like rocks in the sea, unmoved by the storm.

Then, with the roar of the white dragon Viserion, it neared the ground.

The surging dragon flame illuminated the curtains inside the carriage, and the mercenaries of the Second Sons let out shrill screams.

Chapter 451: Closing the Net

"Bloody whore dares to conspire against me!"

"The Titan's Bastard" Mero roared in rage, heaving heavily, his body covered in blood.

He was no fool, and by now, he had realized that Daenerys might have detected the danger long ago, having foreknowledge of the rebellion.

Thus, she deliberately set a trap, waiting for them to fall into it, to sweep them all away in one fell swoop.

"Die!"

"Die!"

A big man with red-golden beard, broad shoulders, and round waist, covered in blood, swung his axe wildly, attempting to hack his way through.

But he had underestimated the Unsullied; he was surrounded by several of them, holding firm shields.

"Ha!"

"Ha!"

Thump, thump—

Mero's axe struck only the shields, like a wild beast trapped in a cage.

"Take him alive!"

Then he was turned into a bloody mess by the Unsullied, falling to the ground, captured alive, dragged away like a slaughtered pig.

The leader of the Second Sons fell, and the rest of the mercenaries were like ants shaking a tree; the Unsullied were far more elite than this rabble, especially in large-scale combat.

The world's foremost legion against these scattered mercenaries was a one-sided affair; the mercenaries either died or fled.

The ancient nobles of Pentos and the remnants of the Governor's family who organized this action were terrified at the sight.

However, as they were preparing to flee, they were caught by the commander of the Interior Department, Ramsay Snow.

Draped entirely in black robes, Little Flayer smiled coldly at the ordinary inn in front of him, then removed his hood to reveal his pale and shadowy face.

Beside him stood several soldiers, similarly cloaked in black robes and wearing masks, daggers at their waists, and crossbows in hand, their sharp bolts aimed at the inn's door.

The Interior Department is one of the few forces in Pentos authorized to use crossbows.

Woof, woof—

Ramsay's trained hounds had scented the enemy and were barking madly at the door.

They showed their sharp fangs and ferocious faces, saliva dripping down.

To train the viciousness of these hounds, Ramsay often secretly used Interior Department criminals as bait, honing their ferocity and hunting ability; those that failed were executed.

Hearing the barking outside, the people trapped in the inn felt cold sweat on their foreheads; they did not doubt that these hounds were meant for them.

"Have we been discovered?"

"What shall we do?"

One of the white-haired old men, dressed in fine clothing, stammered.

He was a member of an ancient noble family of Pentos, having escaped the crisis of the Red Night by being away at sea near Braavos, leading a merchant fleet. He survived but swore to end Viserys's tyranny and reclaim his home.

But he did not expect that this time, the operation in Pentos would be anticipated and a trap set, waiting for them to take the bait. The Beggar Prince was even stabbed to death on the street the moment he stepped out the door.

"What shall we do?"

A young and spirited noble remnant with golden hair spoke, his chest bearing an old family emblem, a long sword at his waist.

"What can we do now?"

"Viserys is cruel and ruthless; he showed no mercy during the Red Night."

"Even if we surrender, they won't spare us; better to fight them to the death!"

The young Pentos noble's idea gained some approval, but more conservative nobles disagreed.

At this point, they should negotiate for their interests; rash bravery was not befitting of nobles with high lineage.

Sadly, the young nobles of Pentos would not heed their advice.

Outside, Ramsay's cold countdown continued, claiming that if they did not surrender in a quarter of an hour, he would burn down the inn.

The city's garrison soldiers, responsible for maintaining order, were startled by Ramsay's words; arson was a serious crime in the city.

But as they approached to persuade Ramsay, his subordinates flashed a metal badge and rebuffed them.

"Interior Department business; our master is greater than yours."

The shiny badge bore the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem and Viserys's hand command.

The city's garrison soldiers swallowed their words, looking at the badge.

This badge was once bestowed by Viserys to Ramsay, mainly to empower the Interior Department to oversee internal affairs; otherwise, any official would outrank Ramsay, rendering the department null.

Pentos's defensive commander was Jon Clinton, while the Interior Department answered directly to the king; who had the stronger backing was clear.

The garrison soldiers retreated, sulking, and before Ramsay's quarter-hour was up, the people in the inn could not help but rush out.

The young man with black curly hair and a shadowy face showed a cruel smile.

The next second, the sound of crossbows firing rang out.

Thump, thump, thump—

Sharp bolts pierced the noble remnants, and the famished hounds pounced, biting their throats, tearing and swallowing their flesh.

Woof, woof—

The sound of barking hounds filled the air, blood staining the streets, bodies littering the ground. These noble remnants were like moths to a flame, falling without even a second of resistance.

The scene was too brutal; the onlooking city garrison soldiers could not bear to watch, lowering their heads or turning away, some even vomiting on the spot.

But Ramsay and his subordinates were all accustomed, feeling no discomfort.

When all the bodies were devoured, those who had not come out of the inn finally emerged, trembling, some even having wet themselves.

"Welcome."

"Welcome to Pentos."

Ramsay, looking at these trembling, pants-wetting noble remnants, smiled brightly, frightening them further.

But they were not executed by Ramsay; they were detained for interrogation.

Ramsay hoped to pry open their mouths to learn how much wealth they had hidden outside.

Chapter 452: Attack on the Royal Forest

The insurrection in Pentos, planned by the traitors, had been foreseen by Ramsay's internal department, who had swiftly informed the Prime Minister and the Princess. Traps were laid, capturing the conspirators all at once.

The rebellion lasted but a short time, quickly quelled by the city's guard and the Unsullied.

Those who had joined the Second Son were slain or wounded, many killed on the spot, the rest captured and thrown into the dungeons.

The Ragged Prince, having taken part in the rebellion, was assassinated by the internal department's killers. His crimes were made public, earning the scorn of the people of Pentos.

Come the dawn of the next day.

Prisoners were extracted from the dungeons, their hands bound with ropes, and lined up beneath the Nine Towers Palace on the hill, kneeling down in a dense crowd.

They were mercenaries who had joined the rebellion, former members of the Windblown, even remnants of the ruling family of Pentos and old nobility.

Because the scene was destined to be bloody, Daenerys chose not to attend in person, but Prime Minister Jon Clinton was there to oversee the execution.

Pentos' magistrate read aloud their crimes, and with a single command, the executioners' blades fell, hundreds of heads rolling, blood staining the ground.

Their heads were then hung high on the city walls of Pentos, impaled on long spears, becoming a horrifying spectacle.

Citizens of Pentos gathered to watch, throwing dung and rotten eggs, celebrating their liberation from these vampires.

And foreign merchants traveling to the Pearl of the Bay could look up and see those heads hanging above them.

A chill ran through them, and in Pentos, they took extra care, respecting local laws, not daring to cheat or monopolize.

Overall, the rebellion in Pentos had a small impact.

With the advantage of foresight, the net was cast quickly, without much destruction.

Prime Minister Jon Clinton personally inspected, and peace and normality were restored to the city that very day.

Meanwhile, tens of miles outside the city of Pentos in the royal forest...

No one knew that after the white dragon Viserion spread its wings and flew away, a group of masked black-clothed men had broken into this forbidden land.

"Halt!"

"Who goes there!"

A voice rang out in the woods, startled and angry, as if encountering an attack.

Clang, clang—

Soon after, the sounds of intense battle erupted, metal clashing and screams filling the air.

Before long, the bodies of Targaryen patrol soldiers were strewn across the ground, while the black-clothed figures moved swiftly away.

They were well-trained, coordinated, and their purpose was clear: they were after the Targaryens' dragon-keeping grounds.

After killing the guards, they headed deeper into the royal forest.

Swish, swish, swish—

The black-clothed figures moved quickly through the forest, utterly silent, no one speaking.

Usually, the two royal forests of the Targaryens, one in Andalos and one in Pentos, were considered some of the most dangerous places on the Essos continent, thanks to the presence of Balerion, Rhaegal, and Viserion.

The royal forest was vast and complex in terrain, so there weren't many patrol soldiers needed; it was impossible to protect it fully.

And the local villagers would not dare hunt there, for entering the royal forest was illegal, punishable by fine or even loss of a hand or life.

But now, Balerion and Rhaegal were away with Viserys and Rhaenys in Westeros.

The only dragon left to guard, Viserion, had also just left, leaving behind five young dragons only months old, reducing the danger of this forbidden land.

And these people had their sights set on these young dragons.

Many forces on the Essos continent coveted the Targaryens' dragons.

But the grown dragons were too powerful and dangerous, not something they could target, so they turned their attention to the newly born young dragons.

"Be careful."

"Young dragons are no rats, not so easy to deal with."

As they reached the depths of the royal forest, the air filled with the unique scent of dragons, becoming dry and hot, even the animals growing scarce.

Perhaps sensing the danger, the leader of the black-clothed men, wearing a mask, spoke in a low voice.

A flash of red hair showed at his temples, and he spoke with a Lorathi accent.

The black-clothed figures behind him remained silent, their hands ready with various tools for capturing dragons, such as special nets, chains, rope darts, and crossbows.

This mission was nearly their entire force, everyone deployed, carrying an important task on their shoulders.

The future safety of the free world, untouched by worldly power, defending the glory of the Many-Faced God, all lay in this mission.

The leader's eyes flashed beneath his mask, and he sighed, taking a silver coin from his pocket and tossing it into the air, then catching it.

He looked at the coin, showing the 'ominous' side, and fell silent.

But then he raised his hand, tapping the wooden mask on his forehead.

Crack—

The wooden mask made a crisp sound.

Then his tone changed, speaking in the cold High Valyrian.

"All men must die."

The faces of the black-clothed figures behind him became solemn, and they bowed their heads in unison.

"All men must serve."

Chapter 453: Capturing the Young Dragons

Suddenly, outsiders breached the dragons' sanctuary.

Red Dragon Vhagar, the 'eldest sister' of five young dragons, was the first to sense something amiss.

"Rrrahh!"

The female dragon, covered with red scales, stretched her wings and let out a deep roar as a warning.

Among the young dragons, the 'second brother,' Gold Dragon Tyraelyx, was the next to be alerted. His golden scales shone like the sun.

He immediately took to the skies, flying toward the treetops, ready to identify the uninvited guests and protect his siblings.

The dragons' dwelling was usually a forbidden area, filled with the scent of their lives—the smell of their scales, the odor of their droppings.

Other creatures would flee from these scents, not daring to approach. But something was now moving against this norm, drawing closer, naturally arousing the young dragons' vigilance.

The deep blue female dragon, Mylaxis, and the Crystal Dragon, 'Little Lady' Xulaxis, both fluttered their wings and flew to the treetops.

Only the youngest of the five dragons, whimsically named Silver Piece by Viserys, still lay on the grass, snoring away.

He was inherently deficient, and despite the rapid growth rate of young dragons, he was still only about a meter long after several months. He was also lighter than his siblings.

Silver Piece was a male dragon, but his physique was even less robust than his third sister, Mylaxis, and only comparable to the delicate Little Lady, appearing like a dainty 'young miss.'

At that moment, the sound of crossbows rang out from the woods.

Thud, thud, thud—

Bolts, flashing with cold light and trailed by ropes, were aimed directly at the golden young dragon Tyraelyx. His scales were too eye-catching, radiating light like a dazzling sun.

"This dragon is beautiful!"

"Seize it!"

One of the masked men in black cried out. Tyraelyx's appearance was alluring, almost fulfilling all human fantasies about the perfect mythical creature.

Graceful, handsome, filled with a sense of power.

Tyraelyx didn't realize that his exceptional beauty had brought danger. Startled by the sudden attack, he let out a roar of alarm and anger.

"Rrrahh!"

He then furiously flapped his wings to dodge the bolts, which fell into the air and dropped.

On the other side, the fiery-tempered eldest sister, Vhagar, saw the intrusion and dived down from the treetops with a roar.

Her speed was incredible, and she bit through the throat of one masked man. Blood spurted instantly.

Vhagar was the first to hatch among the five young dragons, and although a female, her ferocity surpassed her brother Tyraelyx.

When the two siblings fought, Tyraelyx often ended up bitten and scarred.

"'Scorpion'!"

One of the masked men growled.

They were all Faceless Men, long forgetting their names when they became servants of the Many-Faced God. In meetings at the House of Black and White, they referred to each other by code names.

'Scorpion' was one, skilled in poisons, loving the invisible act of killing.

Her 'Strangler' was one of her favorite poisons, used in several assassinations without her presence, killing targets through poisoned objects.

But unfortunately, facing the young dragons, she didn't have a chance to showcase her skills. Vhagar bit through her neck, and even her head went into the dragon's mouth, chewed and crushed.

"Roar!"

Red Dragon Vhagar let out a low roar, then opened her mouth and spewed fire.

Whoosh~

Dragon flames surged out, burning the leaves. But due to her young age, the flames were not abundant, like a small flamethrower, easily dodged by the Faceless Men.

Thud—

The leader of the Faceless Men, a man with red and white hair and wearing a mask, rolled to avoid the flames, and his crossbow bolt hit Vhagar's wing.

The young red dragon let out a piercing scream, blood flowed, and then she beat her wings and flew into the sky.

The young dragons were too young, only a few months old, facing the skilled Faceless Men with weapons to hunt them; they had to flee.

Seeing his elder sister injured, the golden young dragon Tyraelyx roared and dived, his dragon flames pouring down, burning another Faceless Man who tried to lasso Vhagar into a human torch.

The Faceless Man screamed, and Vhagar took the opportunity to break free from the ropes, escaping their control.

The other two female young dragons, the deep blue Mylaxis and the Crystal Dragon Xulaxis, flew to the sky under their elder brother's protection, leaving only the inherently deficient little brother, Silver Piece, lagging behind.

He had just been sound asleep, and as he awoke to the commotion, a rope snagged his hind leg, pulling tightly.

The silver-white young dragon beat its wings, trying to fly, but was pulled down, letting out a scream.

The other four young dragons had no time to consider their little brother's safety. Their elder sister was seriously injured, and Tyraelyx caught Vhagar, gaining altitude and flying into the sky. The two other female young dragons also flew in different directions to escape danger.

"We've caught a dragon!"

"'Scorpion,' 'Fat Man,' and 'Lord' are dead," one of the Faceless Men said, his voice heavy.

The strict selection system made the Faceless Men rare, and every official member was precious. However, they had lost three members in this operation.

'Scorpion' had been killed by the fierce red dragon, 'Fat Man' had been burned alive by the handsome golden young dragon, and 'Lord' was bitten in the throat and killed by the unassuming deep blue female dragon, and then escaped.

The leader of the Faceless Men, the man with red and white hair wearing a mask, looked at the three corpses on the ground and the captured Silver Dragon, thinking about the 'ominous' coin toss earlier, just about to speak...

But then, from above, came the furious roar of Viserion.

"Roar!"

The dragon's roar echoed through the wilderness, causing countless wild beasts to flee.

The Faceless Men in the forest heard the roar from the sky and looked up, their faces turning pale.

"Something's wrong."

Chapter 454: Wrath of the Dragon

"Dire news."

The Faceless Man leader, with his distinctive red and white hair beneath his mask, looked gravely alarmed.

He hadn't expected Viserion, the white dragon, to return so swiftly. According to their intel, Viserion shouldn't have been back so soon.

"Quick!"

"Flee!"

The urgency in the Faceless Man leader's voice was palpable. The cohesion amongst the Faceless Men was evident; they all knew without a spoken word what needed to be done. They scattered instantly.

Even a dragon, still adolescent in its teenage phase, wasn't something they could meddle with.

Though Viserion's size and weight couldn't match that of Balerion, he still spanned a dozen meters or so. Soaring in the skies, he resembled a floating isle, casting a massive shadow beneath. His roar shook the very heavens.

Viserion dove from a distance, and below, the Faceless Men dispersed like startled birds, taking shelter beneath the dense canopy, hoping to divert the dragon's attention.

But what greeted them was a torrential downpour of dragonfire.

BOOM!

Intense flames rained from the sky, cleaving the dense forest in twain, setting it ablaze.

Viserion, in his resplendent white and gold, was furious. He had only left his lair for a brief period, and during his absence, the human intruders dared attack his kin. This affront fueled Viserion's rage, letting loose his fiery wrath.

A Faceless Man, running at top speed, constantly glanced back at the sky, realizing the dragon had set its sights on him. In a blink, as if by some sorcery, his clothes collapsed, but beneath them, the man vanished without a trace.

In the next moment, dragonfire rained down, reducing the garments to ash.

"Ah—"

Another Faceless Man, his identity unknown, let out a harrowing scream within the engulfing flames. His clothes, even the very skin mask upon his face, melted away. The scorching heat caused his skin to dry and crack, every breath he took ignited his lungs, soon followed by his flesh and bones.

Being burned alive is among the most agonizing of deaths. Even for a Faceless Man, the pain was unbearable. His screams echoed until he dropped, transforming into a charred corpse.

But the wrath of Viserion wasn't sated.

With powerful beats of his wings, he flew close to the treetops, searching the depths of the Kingswood for Silverpiece, the missing captured dragon whelp.

Unable to locate the silver-scaled youngling, Viserion let out a deep, rumbling growl.

Then, once more, he spewed fire upon the earth.

BOOM!

The land trembled as dragonfire continued to cleave through the woods. The cries from the skies reached far, the towering flames and thick smoke alarmed the patrolling Kingsguard soldiers.

A noble-looking knight, followed by several soldiers bearing the Targaryen three-headed dragon emblem, approached.

One soldier, witnessing the dragon's fury, stammered in fear, "Ser Duran, what has enraged the dragon?"

The knight, known as Ser Duran, with brown hair and a facial scar, watched Viserion's rampage and responded gravely, "Someone has angered the beast."

"We must inform Princess Daenerys!"

Ser Duran was one of the recently elevated knights under the Targaryen banner. An Andal warrior, he had served in the First Legion and was knighted after distinguished service against the Dothraki invaders. He was granted fertile lands as his domain.

"Understood!"

Realizing the urgency, the soldiers turned their horses and galloped towards Pentos, seeking Daenerys, the Dragon Queen, the only one who could calm the beast.

Ser Duran, however, gazed into the depth of the woods, his expression grave, his facial scar contorted. His brown hair fluttered in the wind. Dismounting, he drew his sword cautiously and ventured into the woods.

The scent of blood lingered in the air.

His warrior's intuition warned him of impending danger, prompting him to send his men to Pentos for reinforcements. Alone, he delved deeper into the Kingswood.

Having served alongside Viserys for some time, Ser Duran was familiar with the dragons. He knew Viserion to be mild-tempered, implying that someone or something had indeed provoked him.

The rustling of leaves caught his attention, and he discovered several fallen Kingsguard soldiers. Their lifeless bodies bore evident wounds, clearly slain by weapons.

"Invaders in the Kingswood, they must have provoked the dragon," the scarred knight thought, his heart sinking.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps echoed nearby. Ser Duran, armored and alert, tightened his grip on his sword, readying for the confrontation.

Unexpectedly, a dart with a red feather flew from the side, piercing through the gaps in the trees, striking him in the neck.

He felt an immediate numbness. Holding his neck, disbelief evident in his eyes, he collapsed, face down.

Emerging from the woods were the Faceless Men, one, with alternating red and white strands of hair, carried a net containing the captured Silverpiece.

The potent poison from the dart hadn't killed him yet, but Ser Duran was paralyzed, forced to watch helplessly as his foes retreated, awaiting the inevitable end.

Chapter 455: The Faceless Fall

Not long after.

Clatter Clatter The chaotic sound of hooves echoed on the road outside the royal forest.

"Fire!" "Quick, put out the fire first!"

The furious Viserion had set the royal forest ablaze, and countless Targaryen soldiers stumbled over each other as they rushed to extinguish the flames.

"Your Highness, the Princess." "Your Highness, the Princess."

The young Princess Daenerys also arrived at the scene, escorted and protected by the Unsullied.

"Viserion."

She dismounted and calmed Viserion's temper before learning what had transpired.

A group of uninvited guests had invaded the royal forest during Viserion's absence, attacking five young dragons and making off with the smallest silver one.

This was an unprecedented event; the Targaryen's three dragons had never been deployed simultaneously.

The most frequently deployed was Balerion, the Black Dread, whose combat strength far exceeded his two brothers, and whose length was thrice theirs. Thus, he was often sent into battle or flew with Viserys.

Rhaegal and Viserion, the two brothers, stayed at home, hunting and fishing. Anyone who dared venture deep into the royal forest was swallowed whole.

Now, by chance, the Targaryen's three massive dragons were deployed simultaneously.

Balerion and Rhaegal were on the opposite shore of the Narrow Sea, while the white dragon Viserion had been summoned by Daenerys to quash a rebellion in Pentos.

But this fleeting opportunity was precisely and accurately seized by the enemies of House Targaryen.

They dispatched a skilled team armed with weapons threatening to the young dragons, capturing one that was only a few months old, and successfully made off with it.

Daenerys, understanding the full extent of the situation, grew pale. Though young, she knew the importance of dragons to her house.

Her brother had entrusted her with such an important matter, but she had botched it all.

Her brother had once entrusted the base to Rhaenys, who, though occasionally foolish, had never committed such a grave error.

The silver-haired princess's eyes reddened, and she seemed on the brink of tears. For her age, such a calamity left her feeling lost and without support. Her brother and Rhaenys were far away, leaving her to fend for herself.

But luckily, Jon Clinton also received the news and arrived at the scene in time.

From the end of the road, hooves sounded, and a tall man with gray-red hair arrived with a few guards. Seeing Daenerys, he dismounted at once.

"Your Highness, the Princess."

Daenerys, seeing a trustworthy adult arrive, couldn't help but embrace Jon Clinton and cry.

"It's all my fault, Lord Jon. What do we do now?"

The gray-red-haired man, seeing the crying princess, swallowed the words of criticism he had intended. This was indeed a slight oversight on Daenerys's part, calling Viserion and leaving the five young dragons unprotected in the royal forest.

Had this not happened, it would have been a minor, inconsequential mistake.

But the enemy 'conveniently' seized this opportunity, launching an elite attack on the royal forest, and taking one of the young dragons. This small mistake had morphed into a grave error.

However, looking at the teary-eyed little girl, Jon Clinton couldn't bear to speak harshly. He could only pat the girl's hair and sigh before speaking.

"This is not entirely Your Highness's fault; I am also to blame. I should have sent more soldiers to protect the royal forest, not just..."

Jon Clinton's voice was low, but in truth, even a large army of ten thousand couldn't have made the vast royal forest impenetrable.

But Jon Clinton didn't finish his sentence. Compared to calming the princess's emotions, what was more crucial now was how to remedy the situation. His tone lifted slightly as he continued.

"But now is not the time to give up."

"Your Highness."

"I have already sent soldiers to search for suspicious individuals along the way, and have sealed the ports and coast. A young dragon is not small; they will not find it easy to smuggle it away unnoticed."

Jon Clinton had quickly implemented some remedial measures, searching for the group that had attacked the young dragons, and investigating their identity as urgently as possible.

However, although he said this, Jon Clinton didn't harbor much hope of recovering the young dragon.

The enemy's preparations were thorough, and if they could precisely calculate Viserion's departure, arranging people to help outside would not be difficult.

The most challenging part of capturing the dragon had succeeded; transporting a dragon only a meter long would be relatively easy for an experienced smuggling group.

Yet, although Jon Clinton didn't have high expectations of finding the young dragon, he wasn't panicked, for he knew that one person could certainly locate the young dragon.

"Hate will be obliterated with fire and blood."

Jon Clinton spoke with rare fury. This time, no matter who the enemy was, since they had crossed a line, they must wash their sins with blood and fire.

Meanwhile, on a coast near Pentos.

A merchant ship bearing the flag of Tyrosh seemed to have temporarily stopped there due to some accident.

Then, accompanied by a carriage covered with black cloth, people lifted a large wooden box from the carriage onto the ship. The ship, having anchored for a long time, hastily set sail, heading north.

Above the cabin, the leader of the Faceless Men removed his mask, revealing a handsome yet weathered face, slightly stubbled, with deep, tired pale blue eyes.

His last companion had chosen to flee in another direction to lead the pursuers away.

He was eventually caught by the Targaryen cavalry and beheaded, leaving only him.

The Faceless Men, nearly wiped out, had only two left within the organization responsible for training newcomers, the 'Kindly Man,' and the one who concocted poisons, the 'Waif.'

The once-renowned, thousand-year-old Faceless Men were nearing extinction, all for one young dragon.

What could it bring? Could it allow the Braavosi elite to attempt to control dragons and dominate the skies? Or to study the dragon's characteristics and create weapons against such creatures?

"Is it worth it?"

Jaqen H'ghar looked at the silver young dragon, shackled by its feet in the cage.

Its scales were dull and lifeless, and it seemed to have stopped struggling, lying quietly in the cage, its eyes also staring at him.

At that moment, Jaqen H'ghar felt a chill run down his spine.

He sensed an unprecedented threat in the young dragon's eyes, and abruptly stood up from his chair.

Chapter 456: Storm in King's Landing

In the distant Westeros, on the Kingsroad leading directly to King's Landing:

"Roar, roar, roar~"

A seemingly endless horde of Dothraki, clad in animal-hide armor, their chaotic hoofbeats trampling the sunset, make their way. Subdued allied soldiers are gathered among them, and Viserys soars on his mighty dragon, the howling wind in his ears.

The magnificent capital of the Seven Kingdoms lies ahead, now a shadow on the horizon.

At that moment, the silver-haired dragon rider atop the dragon suddenly opens his eyes, a pair of pale violet orbs, long lashes catching the sunset's glow.

He turns his head to the east and clenches his fist slightly.

"Heh—"

Bellereon then lets out a deep and melodious roar that echoes across the sky. The dragon soars, its wings rushing into the clouds, flying towards the direction opposite the setting sun.

King's Landing is within arm's reach.

The Dothraki and the subjugated soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms' allied army below are momentarily agitated by the sudden departure of the dragon.

But the confusion soon settles. After all, this isn't the first time such a thing has happened.

Viserys, riding his dragon in the sky, would occasionally leave temporarily without reason, but would return soon after.

No one paid it much mind. Khal Drogo, dressed in animal-hide armor and a belt tied with an arakh, looked up at the direction of the departing dragon, then spoke loudly in Dothraki and swung his horsewhip, pointing towards the distant capital of the Seven Kingdoms.

The great army rolled on towards King's Landing.

The Dothraki army arrived in King's Landing by evening, accompanied by Oberyn and Princess Arianne Martell. The city was filled with banners and armies.

The common folk of King's Landing had never witnessed so many gathered forces, including many strangers they had only heard of in legends.

A group of Dothraki reeking of the blood of the slain, their strength evident in their long braids, each warrior possessing one to three warhorses, their martial skill apparent in their fierce eyes. The Dothraki came into conflict with the Gold Cloaks, and a roaring Dothraki warrior sent ten Gold Cloaks fleeing.

The pregnant Princess of Dorne was placed within the Red Keep, beside the chambers of the senior princess.

The once-lady of the place, Cersei Lannister, and her two children were forced to move from the royal chambers to the servant's quarters. Oberyn took residence in the Tower of the Hand.

The arrival of the Dothraki and the subjugated Seven Kingdoms' allied army brought not only the good news of the liberation of the Riverlands but also their greatest prize.

The usurper Robert Baratheon's injuries had healed over time, and he was confined to the dungeons of the Red Keep.

Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell, suffered the same fate. The two difficult brothers were fatefully close, even in imprisonment.

But when it came to holding Stannis, there was a problem. He and some regular nobles were confined in the dungeons of King's Landing, only to suddenly be attacked and whisked away by unknown assailants. The whereabouts of Stannis were lost.

King's Landing was a complex place, as Renes realized for the first time. She ordered a thorough investigation, and the final result pointed to Stannis's former subordinate, the 'Onion Knight' Davos.

He had disappeared after the Battle of Rushing Rivers, arriving at King's Landing ahead of the army, and hiring a group of underground forces and mercenaries to prepare to break out the prisoners.

But alas, the army's protection was too extensive, and they had no opportunity until they were able to strike in King's Landing using the intricate networks, terrain, and population to their advantage.

Davos Seaworth had bribed some Gold Cloaks, creating a deliberate defensive flaw.

Then they were able to successfully strike, taking Stannis from his prison wagon, disappearing without a trace.

The 'Onion Knight' had once been a smuggler, a veteran of the underworld, and therefore was familiar with King's Landing's complex underground networks and exits to the outside city. The Gold Cloaks couldn't locate Stannis for a time.

The loss of Stannis wasn't too serious, as he was already a mere figurehead, but it wasn't trivial either, as he still had a claim. Renes was furious.

The city guard had made continuous mistakes, first letting the 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister escape and then allowing Stannis to be taken.

Renes saw the corruption within the city guard. She ordered the execution of several Gold Cloaks bribed by Davos and took the opportunity to dismiss Janos Slynt, the commander of the city guard, who had performed well in the surrender of Vhagar, replacing him with the Black Beetle.

The Black Beetle promised Renes that he would transform the city guard, holding the soldiers to the training standards of the Unsullied.

But the turmoil in King's Landing that night had not ended.

Viserys's prolonged absence caused concern, and his pregnant fiancée silently prayed.

"May the gods above keep Viserys safe and sound."

Arianne's greatest dream was to become a queen, but the reality was something she never even dreamed of. What was once an unattainable dream had suddenly come within reach.

The Targaryen army had taken King's Landing, the banners of the three-headed dragon flying over the Red Keep, and even the dragon bones stored in the vaults were brought back up, replacing the tapestries of the Baratheon family.

Renes, touching Arianne's swollen belly, curiously put her ear to it, and after a moment, said, "I think I hear the baby's heartbeat!"

"It's only a few months old; perhaps you're hearing my heartbeat."

The Princess of Dorne laughed, teasing Renes, pinching her smooth face. "A beauty like my sister lying on me, of course, my heart will race."

Renes blushed slightly, seemingly teased by her cousin.

Since it was not widely publicized, few knew that Renes and Arianne were in fact cousins, Renes's mother being Arianne's aunt.

But then Renes seemed to think of something and asked curiously, "Sister, do you know if the child you carry is a boy or a girl yet?"

Arianne, hearing her question, raised an eyebrow but shook her head.

"Some maesters can determine the child's gender by the mother's diet, but Maester Marwyn is not skilled in this, so we cannot discern."

Maester Marwyn remained in Pentos, mainly immersed in his research on Valyrian ruins.

"But I hope it will be a boy."

The exotic beauty said, her eyes filled with longing.

Chapter 457: The Fall of the Titan

At that moment.

"Your Grace."

Knock, knock—

Mia, one of the Royal Iron Guards stationed outside, rapped on the door. Upon receiving permission, she pushed the door open and entered.

Serving as Arylene's personal protector, she was primarily responsible for safeguarding the future queen's unborn child.

Then the White Cloaked Knight informed Rhaenys and Arylene that the usurper's wife, Cersei, and the Duchess of Winterfell, Catelyn, had come to request to see their imprisoned husbands.

"Oh?" Rhaenys, upon hearing Mia's words, paused for a moment, lost in thought. A wife's longing for her husband was worthy of sympathy. Even though the day had seen Stannis taken prisoner, the Red Keep was heavily guarded. Two women, powerless as they were, had no ability to rescue their husbands from this place.

"It shall be so." The elder princess slightly nodded her head.

Though Arylene was to be Viserys' queen, in his absence, the military and political power of House Targaryen rested in Rhaenys' hands, not Arylene's.

The reason was simple: Viserys loved and trusted Rhaenys the most, and she, being a pure-blooded Dragonrider, possessed considerable combat abilities.

The red-haired woman, clad in white armor and bearing a dragon-slaying sword, heard Rhaenys' words and glanced at the expressions on the princesses' faces.

"As you command, Your Grace." She then slightly bowed her head and withdrew.

Robert Baratheon, though deemed a usurper by the Targaryens, was nevertheless the recognized king of the Seven Kingdoms.

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, hailed from a family deeply rooted in the North.

Stannis' title as Duke of Dragonstone sounded grand but amounted to nothing more than two fishing villages, especially since he had now lost his lands.

Though said to be imprisoned in the dungeons of the Red Keep, they were actually held in a semicircular low tower above the dungeon entrance, a place known as the "Traitor's Corridor." This top-level cell was reserved for prisoners of rank.

Robert and Eddard were here, and the sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor. The jailers had been replaced by Unsullied soldiers, who, torches held aloft and silent as death, led the two women into the cells.

"Eddard!" Catelyn Tully rushed forward as the cell door opened, embracing her husband tightly.

Almost as though remembering something, she quickly checked his body for injuries, having heard of the Battle of Riverrun, a brutal affair that was a repeat of the Field of Fire. Dragon flames and savage hooves had crushed the allied forces, and many nobles and soldiers had fallen.

Among them was the renowned southern general, Lando Talley, who had disappeared on the battlefield. Rumors had it that he might have been turned to ashes by dragon fire, his body nowhere to be found.

Therefore, Catelyn lived in constant fear, dreading that something similar had befallen her husband.

But Eddard Stark, though confined within the Red Keep and looking somewhat haggard, was largely unharmed.

"Catelyn." Seeing his wife, they embraced tightly.

In the adjacent cell, Robert's body had withered considerably. His cheeks had regained some youthful contour, but the splendor in his eyes was not what it once was.

He looked at his good brother and sister-in-law reuniting, a pang of something unpleasant in his heart.

His wife, Cersei, appeared at the cell door. The once grand and magnificent queen now seemed like a fallen phoenix, her pride lost, leaving only her beautiful appearance.

The blonde woman stood at the door of the cell, looking at her husband seated on the bed's edge. Robert's beard was wild, his eyes sparkling in the darkness as he looked back at his wife. After a moment of silence, Robert's voice, deep and somber, asked, "Where is Joffrey?"

"Joffrey is in his room, reading. They only allowed me to come," Cersei replied, taking a deep breath.

"Hmph." Robert, sitting on the bed, snorted coldly, clearly not believing that their son was reading at that moment.

Though he cared little for his children's education, Robert knew Joffrey was not the type to read willingly. Though he expressed disdain, his eyes still hid a father's love for his offspring.

"They promised to spare Joffrey and Myrcella's lives, then?" Robert asked, already knowing of Cersei's decision to surrender the city to save their children.

"I am not certain," Cersei shook her head. "Viserys has not returned for some unknown reason."

On the other side, in stark contrast to Cersei and Robert's insincere relationship, Catelyn and Eddard's affection was much more genuine.

"Eddard." The red-haired woman, tears streaming down her face, clung tightly to her husband, hoping he would bend the knee and confess, seeking a chance to take the black.

"Catelyn, I understand," replied the Duke of Winterfell, calm and composed, embracing his wife, his face showing complexity.

He knew his chances of survival were slim but couldn't bear to dampen his wife's hope, so he merely nodded silently.

Far away, over the Narrow Sea.

Viserys, riding on dragonback, faced the sea wind, his eyes tranquil.

Due to inherent deficiencies, he had once infused the silver hatchling with a substantial amount of black fog, even hindering his own advancement.

Regrettably, the black fog had little effect on the young dragon, and Viserys was unclear about the reason.

However, not long ago, through the silver dragon's eyes, he saw the person standing opposite it and the sailors on the ship calling him 'Jaquen H'ghar.'

This was a familiar name, and he realized that something must have gone wrong in Pentos.

Several days later.

On an ordinary night, the sea was calm.

A distant roar erupted from the Titan of Braavos, and the soldiers on night watch looked confused.

"What was that noise?"

They hadn't heard such a sound in many years.

Then, a gigantic shadow descended from the sky, spewing torrents of dragon fire.

Boom—

The Titan's head collapsed, crashing into Great Lake, causing waves to ripple across the surface.

Chapter 458: Night of Catastrophe

Ever since the last "Bay War" ended,

The people of Braavos tasted victory after they defeated the proud fleets of the Pentoshi and Lyseni right at their doorsteps.

Since then, Braavos hadn't been embroiled in any significant wars, only minor skirmishes.

The Braavosi had seemingly never experienced the feeling of warfare on their own land, with their people wailing in the midst of roaring flames.

But tonight, they were tasting all of these sensations at once.

The moon hung high, with darkness blanketing everything below.

The shimmering sea reflected the dazzling lights of Braavos, a city of opulence and hedonism.

However, just then, a massive black dragon descended from the sky.

Its dragonfire melted stone, destroyed the unyielding Titan of Braavos, causing the Titan's head to plummet, creating waves upon crashing into the waters of the lagoon.

Immediately after, the dragon let out a deafening roar, its enormous figure casting shadows over the sea. Its wings flapped, creating gusts of wind as it skimmed the turbulent waters.

Suddenly, the monstrous head lifted, and before Braavos's invincible fleet could react, a torrent of dragonfire was unleashed.

BOOM—

The raging flames obliterated one of the fleet's two-masted warships, splintering wood flew everywhere, and the sturdy vessel was cleaved in two.

Braavosi soldiers, barely having emerged from their bunks, were engulfed in flames before understanding what was happening. Some were swallowed by the sea of fire, screaming horrifically, while others leapt into the lagoon, hoping the waters would quench the flames devouring them.

RUMBLE—

The dragonfire continued its path of destruction, shattering countless Braavosi warships in a straight line.

Due to it being late at night, except for the patrolling ships, the rest of the invincible fleet was docked at the armory.

This armory, located at the entrance of the lagoon right behind the Titan, was the primary defense of Braavos's main port. It was situated on a rock resembling a clenched fist.

The top of this rock was bristling with trebuchets, ballistae, and flame crossbows, serving as a maritime barrier for Braavos.

They had always believed that in times of war, the narrow passage beneath the Titan could be used to fend off invaders.

But the Braavosi never anticipated an attack from the sky. Perhaps they had, for since its inception, the city had prepared against dragon assaults.

These early slaves who fled from Valyria feared most that their former masters would come riding dragons.

Hence, the city of Braavos, built on numerous islands, was made entirely of stone with not a single tree, a strategy to prevent widespread destruction from dragonfire.

The armory was filled with countless giant crossbows aimed skyward, meant to counter dragons flying over from the sea.

Yet, the Braavosi had grown complacent. Their unbeatable fleet that ruled the Narrow Sea, the Shivering Sea, and even the Summer Sea had brought long-lasting peace. They had forgotten the threat of dragons.

"By the Gods!"

Viserys, astride the dragon, felt the scorching wind whistle by. His silver armor gleamed brilliantly against the backdrop of the burning sea.

He had long wanted to take action against Braavos, feeling the city repeatedly tested his patience.

From allying with Pentos and the Iron Throne to the assassination attempts by the Faceless Men and the Dothraki invasions, while Braavos had covered its tracks well, for some, no evidence was needed—just a gut feeling.

Had it not been for the early resurgence of the White Walkers disrupting Viserys's plans, he would have likely first conquered the Free Cities before turning his attention to the Iron Throne.

But Braavos's recent attack on the young dragons crossed a line for Viserys.

"Balerion!"

With a tug on the reins, the black dragon seemed to understand his master's intent.

The dragon soared high, its path marked by a fiery trail, heading straight for the heart of Braavos.

Within the city, the streets of Braavos bustled. Near the Moon Pool in the flooded town, countless 'Water Dancer' assassins were showcasing their skills.

But now, they all paused, looking skywards in disbelief.

In the city's canals, Braavos's famed courtesans, renowned throughout the world, were pale with fear. They hastily ordered their boats to dock.

At the Happy Harbor and the Cat's Den, courtesans paused their entertainments, draped only in blankets, their faces a mix of shock and awe.

"My gods... The heavens above..."

In this night, termed as the Catastrophe, every Braavosi would remember the sight. Their once-proud and unbeatable fleet, now as fragile as paper.

Only now did they understand the fear their ancestors held for dragons, and why they hid their identities for centuries.

Chapter 459: Braavos' Hope

In the north of the city of Braavos, within the Sea Lord's Palace.

The distant clamor of the armory was faint here, merely a whisper.

The Sea Lord's Palace stood upon the water, comprised of several islands, linked by stone bridges. It boasted towering stone towers, magnificent domes, and to the north lay the Purple Harbor, where part of the invincible fleet was anchored.

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed within the palace, filled with urgency.

"Lord Kleyon."

The Sea Lord of Braavos's adviser, Kleyon Mysna, rushed in, and the guards along the way bowed quickly.

A middle-aged man in a plain grey robe, his face stern, did not return the salute but strode forward with a clatter.

He was once the city official who had been sent to Dragonstone to bring Viserys to Pentos for the first time and later continued his lobbying in Pentos due to his good personal relationship with Viserys.

Kleyon's two successful diplomatic missions, along with his considerable abilities, had elevated him from a mere city official to the Sea Lord's adviser and personal steward.

Now he had come under cover of darkness, and Quilo Valentin, the chief swordsman of Braavos, naturally stopped him, for it was late, and the Sea Lord's health could not be greatly disturbed.

However, when Quilo heard Kleyon's purpose, the usually calm and composed chief swordsman showed a look of surprise for the first time, and looked up at the sky.

Quilo Valentin knew the gravity of the matter and no longer obstructed Kleyon but personally knocked on the Sea Lord's door.

Thump, thump, thump—

The ill and frail Sea Lord of Braavos was awakened from his slumber.

"What has happened?"

He heard the distant roar, then lay pale-faced on his bed to receive Kleyon's report.

His face grew even grimmer.

A dragon had attacked Braavos under the cover of night. The current casualties were not yet known, but the numbers were growing at an alarming rate every second.

Moreover, the attacker was rational, not attacking the residential areas of Braavos with the dragon but targeting the military-industrial sector.

According to a rough estimate, nearly half of the invincible fleet had sunk into the sea, and the waters were littered with shattered planks and wreckage.

Now the dragon-riding assailant was flying toward the center of Braavos.

The dragon-riding assailant... The Sea Lord listened to Kleyon's words, his face ugly. Why not call him the Mad King's son?

He hadn't expected retribution to come so quickly. The forces sent to Pentos to steal the dragon had just returned the previous night, and now revenge had arrived.

What he found even harder to accept was that the boy who had once appeared calm, pleading for help alone in Braavos, was now riding a dragon back to Braavos, but this time bringing blood and fire with him.

"We helped him once!"

"He begged for our help like a little dog then!"

Ferego Antaryon lay on his sickbed, panting heavily, unable to control his emotions.

Braavos, as the leader of the Free Trade Cities, had never let the flames of war reach its homeland. Now he had met Viserys, who had succeeded in doing just that, destroying the Titan's statue with dragon fire and nailing Ferego Antaryon to the pillar of shame.

"He dares to do this!"

However, his words were followed by a violent cough, and he even coughed up blood.

"Sea Lord, my Lord!"

Quilo Valentin tightened at this sight and hurried forward to help Ferego, calming him down and wiping the blood from his mouth.

"Sea Lord, what must we do now?" Kleyon asked, his heart sinking at the sight but still pressing the question.

They had felt the threat of the dragons, especially when Tycho Nestoris, the Iron Bank's manager in the Seven Kingdoms, had conveyed his observations back to Braavos, further aggravating their anxiety.

His letters had praised the dragons' power, attributing the victory against the White Walkers to Viserys and his dragons. He had even described the dragons as symbols of strength and ambition, growing at an astonishing rate.

This had prompted Braavos's highest echelons to act urgently, using the Faceless Men, trying to frame the Volantenes, only to be easily discovered by their foe.

"What to do?"

"Will he spare us if we hand over the young dragon now?"

The Sea Lord's face darkened, and Kleyon was at a loss. He knew Viserys would not let this go easily.

"The young dragon is the hope of Braavos."

"It must not be handed over, unless he can find where it is hidden."

Ferego Antaryon gritted his teeth.

"Try to kill him with the scorpions, if that fails, lure him down."

He looked at Quilo Valentin, and the chief swordsman understood, nodding.

"Yes, Sea Lord."

But as the three plotted within the Sea Lord's Palace, a dragon's roar suddenly resounded above them.

Chapter 460: The Underground Palace

Viserys rode a mighty dragon to launch a night raid on Braavos, spreading chaos throughout the city.

In Braavos proper, on a remote islet far from the Sea Lord's Palace, lay a residence that hid a secret tunnel leading underground to a hidden palace connected by passageways.

Several silver-haired, purple-eyed individuals gathered there, their expressions filled with trepidation, uncertain of what was to come. Among them were men and women, from slender youths to white-haired elders.

The Braavosi elite had summoned the descendants of the once-great Valyrian noble houses, their direct families now extinct, connected only through distant relations.

These people were considered 'Dragonseed' by Braavos, collected long ago in the hope that their bloodline could control the dragons.

The young dragon stolen from Pentos was hidden in this underground palace. Its feet were bound with chains, but its mouth was left free, as it could not breathe fire.

Boom! Boom!

The heavy underground stone doors were pushed open, and the dark, silent underground palace was greeted by the first ray of light.

The silver dragon, chained and lying on the ground, opened its clear eyes, raising its head to look toward the source of the light.

In the distant sky, Viserys seemed to sense something, turning his head in a particular direction.

"Lord Ihralo, what is...?" stammered a young Valyrian, shivering at the sight of the shadow in the darkness, fearing that the Braavosi officer meant to feed them all to a beast.

"Look closer, it's a dragon," said Ihralo of Braavos, draped in a cloak and wearing leather boots, cautiously approaching with a torch in hand.

"You claim to be from House Belaerys, don't you? Shouldn't this be your dream?" he challenged, "Boy."

Though just a few months old, a dragon is a dragon, possessing unparalleled hunting abilities, its teeth capable of tearing through tough hide and killing a full-grown ox.

The Braavosi had tested this after the dragon's arrival, and according to the only surviving Faceless Man, this was even the weakest of the five young dragons.

What a bloody mess of a life.

That's how Ihralo had felt after hearing the news. Dragons should not exist in this world; their threat to other creatures was too great.

But as Ihralo spoke and the torchlight revealed the shadowy creature, the assembled people saw the young dragon, and their eyes shone.

"It's really a dragon!"

Their ancestors came from dragon-riding families; some were offspring from noble liaisons with commoners, even accidental 'Dragonseeds' left by carelessness.

Some of the children's fathers didn't even know they had left behind a bastard.

Such situations were common in Valyria, Lys, Tyrosh, Dragonstone, and the Iron Islands. Among them was someone from Dragonstone, where Targaryen liaisons were sought after.

Over the years, the Targaryens left many bastards. During the 'Dance of the Dragons,' they had even selected riders from these 'Dragonseeds' due to a lack of dragon riders.

The Braavosi elite sought to replicate this method to control dragons.

"Yes, it is a young dragon," confirmed Ihralo, "Your chance has come."

The tanned-skinned Braavosi raised his torch, eyeing the gathered Valyrians, who had nothing but their noble bloodline. Before being found by Braavos, many had nearly starved, relying on their looks to deceive others.

Ihralo continued, "If you gain the dragon's trust and become its companion, you can become a true dragon rider, changing your fate."

To become a dragon rider and restore ancestral glory was these Valyrians' greatest dream, and Ihralo's words ignited their passion.

"Ever heard of Viserys?" he asked, lighting up their eyes.

They all knew of Viserys Targaryen, the most successful house since Valyria's fall, rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.

Though success was tempting, dragons were dangerous, even in youth.

"I'm old, if I die, I die. Let me try," volunteered an elder Valyrian, breaking the hesitation.

Ihralo nodded, and the old man slowly approached the silver beast.

Everyone's eyes were on him, and they saw him actually reach the young dragon's side. The silver dragon seemed gentle, staring calmly, only growling in warning when the old man tried to touch it.

"Failed," sighed the elder, content to have tried and failed without forcing the issue.

Seeing him return unharmed and unhurt, the rest of the Valyrians grew excited, eager for their chance.

"I'll go!" exclaimed the silver-haired, purple-eyed youth who had spoken earlier, eager to try.

He answered so quickly that others were left disappointed.

Ihralo nodded, and the youth from Tyrosh approached the dragon.

"What's its name?"

"I don't know; you can try naming it," shrugged Ihralo.

The youth shrugged and smiled what he thought was a handsome smile, reaching out to touch the dragon's head. The dragon still lay on the ground, its feet chained, its eyes calmly watching, growling in warning again.

Chapter 461: Awakening of the Wicked

The silver dragon cared little for the humans who approached, forbidding them to tarnish its purity with their filthy bloodlines. But when the young man with silvery hair heard the young dragon's warning growl, he hesitated for a moment.

Then, gritting his teeth and putting everything on the line, he continued forward. The dragon's nature was gentle, and the allure of success was too great, making him lose his sanity for an instant.

Iharlo, who had been watching intently from behind, didn't speak to stop him.

They all knew the dragon's temperament was mild. But what if it was provoked?

He wanted to know the result of provoking a young dragon, and the next second, the outcome appeared.

The silver dragon growled a warning, but the youth did not heed it. Its roar turned dangerous, its clear eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

The dragon suddenly opened its mouth, and without warning, it bit the young man's head off.

Crack—

The young dragon's sharp teeth tore his flesh, its terrifying bite easily shattering the hardest human skull, filling the underground chamber with a horrific crunching noise.

"What…"

Iharlo's face turned serious. This was the first time the silver dragon had killed.

Instinctively, he felt a sense of foreboding. One hand holding a torch, the other tightly gripping the hilt of his sword, he stared intently at the suddenly enraged silver dragon.

All the Valyrian descendants present were shocked and frozen, not knowing what had happened. The youth's hand still reached out, and his headless body collapsed to the ground.

In the next second, the sound of metal clashing rang out.

"Roar—"

The dragon suddenly let out an angry roar. Its dull silver scales seemed to sparkle.

The dark mist hidden within its body was stimulated, surrounding it with a thin black fog that was barely noticeable in the dark.

It seemed to have been waiting for this moment for a long time, being the smallest and weakest of its siblings, always bullied.

Add to that a series of provocations after being captured, and the gentle dragon's primal instincts were awakened. The restless black fog became its aid, helping it unleash its innate wickedness without restraint.

It opened its massive mouth, revealing sharp teeth. The silver dragon's heart surged with an unparalleled desire to kill. It wanted to tear apart these despicable humans, but it was held back by iron chains.

The young dragon's pounce was too fast, even faster than a shadow cat.

"Ah—"

Everyone was startled by the sudden change, including the brown-skinned Braavosi.

He drew his sword, tightly holding the hilt, nearly dropping the torch in his hand.

However, the chains on the young dragon's legs restricted its pounce, keeping it away from the people.

The crowd was frightened, then quickly turned to anger.

"It's all this damned fool's fault. He enraged the young dragon."

The remaining Valyrians who hadn't tried to approach the dragon spoke angrily.

The dragon had clearly expressed its resistance, yet he had tried to touch it.

This behavior had enraged the dragon, leading to his head being bitten off. They blamed their companion rather than the dragon for the killing.

Iharlo's expression was also somewhat gloomy. He thought the same, glancing at the snarling young dragon, then turning to warn the others.

Approaching the dragon was fine, but they must not enrage it.

But as Iharlo opened his mouth to speak, the silver dragon suddenly became much quieter, its body quietly surrounded by black fog.

"Hmm?"

Iharlo turned his head slightly.

He then saw the dragon open its mouth and let out a deep roar. A light suddenly shone from the center of its throat.

"Damn it!"

Iharlo's hair stood on end, but his reaction was a split second too late.

He saw the dragon open its mouth, turn its head, and then, unable to dodge, a blast of dragon fire sprayed across his face.

Boom—

Firelight suddenly brightened the dark, narrow underground palace.

"Ah!!!"

The brown-skinned Braavosi officer was hit directly by the dragon fire, with no room to escape, letting out a piercing scream, struggling in the flames before falling to the ground.

The remaining Valyrian descendants were terrified and wanted to run, but their speed was no match for the dragon's fire.

The silver dragon's scales reflected the brilliant light as it engulfed the humans who had tried to humiliate it, burning them all to ashes.

Above ground, the Braavosi soldiers guarding the entrance to the underground palace seemed to hear the screams from below.

"Hmm? What's happening?"

"Has something happened to Lord Iharlo?"

The soldiers looked at each other, and two of them moved towards the staircase, wanting to go down and take a look.

But just as they were about to step down and push open the stone door, the heavy door was suddenly blown open from the inside.

Boom—

The stone door collapsed, sending debris flying.

"Roar—"

The silver dragon, still chained to two pieces of broken rock, violently broke open the stone door with a roar, opening its massive mouth, and a small jet of dragon fire burst out again.

Whoosh~

The Braavosi soldiers were caught off guard, screaming in the dragon fire before falling to the ground.

"Damn it!"

"The young dragon has escaped! Sound the alarm!"

The alarm was sounded immediately, and the place where the young dragon was confined naturally had more than a few soldiers guarding it. The clang of bells rang out.

However, the silver dragon had already broken through the ceiling of the house, letting out a resounding roar, dragging the two chains into the sky.

Whoosh whoosh—

Several crossbow bolts flew past the dragon, missing it. Assisted by the black fog, they only served to further enrage it.

It dove from the sky, dragon fire bursting forth again, engulfing the soldiers below.

"Ah—"

After escaping, the silver dragon went on a rampage through Braavos.

Elsewhere, Balerion's dragon fire was many times greater than the young dragon's, its thick, bright red pillar of flame surrounding the majestic Sea Lord's Palace, visible even from a great distance.

The guards and servants inside the Sea Lord's Palace hid behind the walls and towers, but it was as if they were in boiling water, the surrounding temperature so high it could melt stone.

Their body's moisture was quickly evaporating, being roasted alive by the dragon fire, giving off the aroma of cooking oil, unable to even scream.

Boom boom boom—

Blazing flames surged to the sky, debris flying everywhere. The towering towers of the Sea Lord's Palace collapsed, crashing into the sea, causing huge waves.

The Sea Lord of Braavos was determined to kill Balerion with giant crossbows, but the black night became the black dragon's best disguise.

And Viserys had no intention of negotiating. White flags from the Sea Lord's Palace were instantly melted.

to be continued

Chapter 462: The Fall of the Sea Lord's Palace

*Boom, boom, boom—*

The sound of the Sea Lord's Palace collapsing echoed far in the still night.

If the dragon's fire upon the Titan and the armory had been in the outskirts of Braavos, affecting the city center little, now nearly all the people of Braavos were awakened from their slumbers.

Everyone came to their windows or stepped out of their homes, lifting their heads in disbelief at the sight before them, even pinching themselves to see if they were dreaming.

Had Braavos truly been invaded?

Near the Flooded Town, the Ragman's Harbor was filled with merchants and sailors from all over the world. Some were from Meereen, some from the Stormlands, Volantis, and even the Summer Isles and Ibben.

They had all sorts of hair and skin colors and cultures, all having traveled far by ship to Braavos to exchange goods and trade.

As the most powerful free trade city-state, with its abolition of slavery and unique geographical location at the junction of the Shivering Sea and the Narrow Sea, Braavos welcomed merchants from all over the world.

Braavos was seen as the center of world trade, a beacon of civilization, order, and freedom, a place that people from less developed areas longed for.

But now, these people of various colors and civilizations were all gathered in the open area of the harbor, watching the wreckage of the invincible fleet burning on the surface of the Great Lagoon, lighting up the sky.

They looked in terror at the faint shadow overhead and the dragon's roar coming from somewhere.

The night had become the black dragon's best camouflage. Balerion roared through the sky, its massive silhouette only visible in the moonlight, blocking out the sun.

It spread its wings and raised its head, then a torrent of dragonfire rained down. The Sea Lord's Palace moaned under the dragon's flames, then collapsed with a thunderous crash.

With the fall of the Sea Lord's Palace into the sea, the high and mighty image of Braavos, symbolizing freedom and the glory of civilization, also collapsed in the hearts of these merchants from all over the world, of various hair and skin colors.

Then, the Braavosi guards, finally recovering, launched a counterattack. Countless giant crossbows roared at the sky, their screeching filling everyone's ears.

But they did not hit Balerion. The black dragon's eyes were sharp, clearly distinguishing the weapons on the ground that could threaten it, and a rain of dragonfire fell, with explosions and screams ringing out continuously.

If Braavos was a fierce tiger with fangs, Balerion was now playing the role of a dentist, pulling out these threats, turning it into a toothless sick cat.

"It seems Viserys is determined to destroy Braavos," someone said.

Below the Sea Lord's Palace, the rumbling of the collapse echoed, and the First Swordsman, Quillro Valentin, supported the Sea Lord of Braavos, Cleon, following at his side.

"Braavos has been established for nearly a thousand years. Is it to be buried in my hands today?" the Sea Lord, Ferrego Antaryon, once a wise and steady man, lamented. Since falling seriously ill, his strategic planning had vanished, replaced by a series of erratic actions.

Cleon shook his head slightly. "Destroying a city is far easier than building one, and he is now in the key process of conquering the Seven Kingdoms."

"Viserys may not want to destroy Braavos, just to put us to death, to give the people of Braavos a stern warning."

"For his future grand cause... submission or death."

Cleon's words made the Sea Lord's face even more unsightly.

However, at that moment, from the tunnel extending below the Sea Lord's Palace, noisy footsteps approached, and torches illuminated the dim environment.

A group of soldiers in Braavosi uniforms surrounded a red-haired man. He wore a black velvet robe, a golden belt, and shiny leather boots. His face was neat, his beard clean and tidy, looking gentlemanly and elegant.

His name was Tormo Fregar, a noble member of Braavos, highly esteemed in the city, managing many industries, and possessing unimaginable wealth.

Tormo was also charitable, often donating large sums to help the poor of Braavos, thus earning a great reputation.

With the current Sea Lord Ferrego Antaryon seriously ill, and rumors of his impending death, Tormo Fregar had a high chance of becoming the next Sea Lord of Braavos.

But unfortunately, Ferrego, though ill, clung to life, and Tormo could only wait.

However, unexpectedly, Tormo Fregar appeared in the tunnel below the Sea Lord's Palace, leading a group of soldiers, blocking the three who had escaped from the Sea Lord's Palace.

"Tormo! What do you mean to do?" the First Swordsman, unable to bear it, stepped forward and accused loudly.

"What to do?"

Tormo Fregar sneered and then spoke, "Because of the Sea Lord's obstinacy, the dragon has attacked. Braavos' great invincible fleet is half-sunk in the Great Lagoon."

"Now the Sea Lord's Palace, the House of Black and White, have all collapsed under dragonfire. What do you think I am here to do?"

The First Swordsman, once considered the best swordsman on the continent of Essos, had the advantage in one-on-one duels but could not face too many enemies at once.

Tormo Fregar now had dozens of skilled soldiers, armed and ready. Even the brave Quillro Valentin would not be their match, especially since he had to protect the Sea Lord, who was barely alive.

Tormo, protected by many soldiers, showed no fear in the face of the First Swordsman, then turned to the Sea Lord and accused loudly.

"Look at what you've done!"

"If I don't do something now, Braavos will be buried by your hand!"

Ferrego Antaryon's face turned pale, trembling with anger. He was about to retort, but Tormo did not give him a chance to speak, instead stepping back behind his soldiers and ordering them forward.

"While Braavos can still be saved."

"Seize this man!"

Tormo Fregar's soldiers rushed forward, heading straight for their once-loyal Sea Lord.

Chapter 463: The Deposition of the Sea King

Beneath the surface, the battle raged on. The First Swordsman, Quyro Valentin, fought fiercely to protect the Sea Lord. Though grievously wounded, he managed to slay numerous soldiers brought by Tolmo Freyga before being captured alive.

With Quyro captured, the remaining counselors, Cleyon and the Braavosi Sea Lord, were naturally left with no strength to fight. They were easily apprehended.

Viserys, mounted on his great dragon, wreaked havoc throughout Braavos, striking many key landmarks with devastating force.

The colossal head of the Titan of Braavos, a symbol to the Braavosi people, fell. The arsenal and half of the invincible fleet sank to the bottom of the sea. The Sea Lord's Palace crumbled, and the House of Black and White was consumed by great fire.

And the Braavosi had no solution to the dragon. The attack had come suddenly, without warning, and they were utterly unprepared for the dragon's onslaught.

Perhaps they could never have anticipated how Viserys, across the Narrow Sea, could pinpoint the location of the young dragon and arrive at their door so swiftly, with flames at the ready.

Why had their plot against the Valyrians failed?

But these questions might never be answered by the Braavosi.

Just as Tolmo Freyga had acted, now all the Braavosi governors, noble families, and Keyholders were gathered, disheveled and humbled, in the emergency meeting chamber beneath the Palace of Truth. Together, they discussed how to resolve the present crisis.

Braavos' founders had painstakingly built many defenses against potential dragon attacks. Yet when faced with an actual dragon, the most effective defense turned out to be the unassuming underground air-raid shelters.

But the quarreling in the underground chamber continued, with no unified solution in sight.

Viserys, however, was not there to conquer Braavos with his single dragon. His actions were naked revenge, and this was evident from his destructive behavior.

Since it was only an act of retaliation, there might still be a solution. All the Braavosi noble families, including the Iron Bank's Keyholders, agreed on one thing.

The current Sea Lord of Braavos, Freygo Antaryon, would bear full responsibility.

Someone had to be the scapegoat for this catastrophe, and the sickly Sea Lord, although his name was not 'Ben,' willingly took the blame.

Better one man die than all.

The Antaryon family was one of Braavos' most influential noble families, having produced three Sea Lords, including the current one, Freygo Antaryon.

Despite their strength, the Antaryons had to bow to the greater forces at play.

For ancient families like theirs, survival often meant cutting off a limb.

Especially in Braavos, where numbers, not bloodlines, were revered. They believed in the beauty and truth of mathematics. One was one, and two was two.

Everyone had a value that could be measured by a number. But when a person's value fell below their burden, they became expendable.

When Tolmo Freyga brought the current Sea Lord into the emergency meeting chamber, an old man representing the Antaryon family looked somewhat uncomfortable.

But Freygo Antaryon seemed resigned, eyes closed, shackled, not causing further embarrassment for his uncle.

Then, in the chamber below the Palace of Truth, the vote began.

Freygo Antaryon's reign as the Sea Lord of Braavos, lasting over a decade, ended with an overwhelming majority, with only one abstention.

He was hastily charged with a series of crimes, the greatest of which was the crime of war.

But war was not the original sin; defeat was his greatest failure.

He was then taken away to be confined in the dungeons of the Palace of Truth, awaiting a public trial.

And Freygo Antaryon did not resist; he was silently led away. His First Swordsman, Quyro Valentin, and counselor Cleyon were not spared either. They were also confined in the dungeons, along with a number of his followers, awaiting future purges.

Freygo Antaryon was removed from his position as Sea Lord, and a new Sea Lord had to be elected.

The present company represented the highest-ranking nobility in Braavos. The next Sea Lord would be chosen from among them.

Although Braavos claimed that any citizen could become the Sea Lord, the voting power lay in the hands of the high nobility. True commoners among the Sea Lords of Braavos were few and far between.

Tolmo Freyga, having offended the Antaryon family, had gained the support of the Pleystan family and many other Braavosi noble families.

In the end, Tolmo won without suspense, defeating his competitors. After a series of complex procedures and ceremonies, he became the next Sea Lord of Braavos in the basement of the Palace of Truth, taking up the Sea Lord's scepter.

Tolmo had become the new Sea Lord in a time of crisis, but he did not celebrate too soon.

A vital problem lay before him that needed solving: how to quench the Dragonlord's wrath. Otherwise, his seat as Sea Lord would not be secure.

The newly appointed Sea Lord immediately discussed strategies with the nobles in the underground chamber of the Palace of Truth. With a leader at the helm, a relatively unanimous negotiation plan was finally reached.

...

Meanwhile, Viserys, who had been attacking and causing chaos in Braavos under the cover of darkness, finally stopped as the first light of dawn approached.

Balerion, not a machine, could not fight endlessly. Both dragon and rider were greatly fatigued and eventually landed on the Shield of Salagoro, the outermost part of Braavos, connected to the beheaded Titan.

And the playful Silver Claws, who had been mischievously causing trouble within the city, were caught by Viserys. At first, the somewhat uncontrollable silver dragon resisted, baring its teeth in defiance.

But when Viserys grasped the back of its neck and drew some of the black mist from its body, its condition improved greatly.

Its crimson eyes gradually cleared, even showing some fear, as if not knowing what it had done. It affectionately nuzzled Viserys's cheek.

Chapter 464: Negotiation

Watching the restless little silver dragon, Viserys couldn't help but ponder for a moment. Though the situation had been resolved peacefully, it had sounded a warning bell for him.

"What is the true nature of the black mist?"

"Why did Silverflake go mad?"

The benefits of the black mist were not endless for those who were bestowed with it. If the quantity was too great, it could easily lead the recipient to the fate of the demonic creatures in the Valyrian ruins, engaging in ceaseless slaughter.

Had they once been given the black mist by someone?

Then, what had happened during the cataclysm that caused them to lose control?

Now was not the time to unravel these mysteries. The answers would naturally be found when he returned to this lost civilization in the future.

Although Viserys had control over this power, he had bestowed the black mist upon only a few. His trusted legion commanders were among them, as were Missandei and Balerion, who had been given it while still in the egg.

Only Silverflake had been given more of the black mist by Viserys, as he had wanted to improve its physical condition. However, it had no effect, and he had accidentally added too much. This time, it had all been triggered, causing negative effects.

But the changes the black mist brought to Silverflake were not all bad; the benefits were also very apparent.

Although its length had not changed significantly, and it still appeared somewhat weak, its once dull silver scales now sparkled brilliantly. Its bright eyes were full of vigor, and it even roared with a liveliness that was not there before.

"Roar~"

Then, Viserys rubbed its head, and the immature roar stopped abruptly, causing Silverflake to retract its neck slightly.

Perhaps because it was inherently weaker than the other dragons, Silverflake had received more care and favor from Viserys.

Viserys truly regarded the little dragons as his children, hoping that they could soar in the blue sky in the future and become the undisputed masters of the heavens.

"Heh—"

At that moment, Balerion, resting quietly on the broad area of Salagoro's Shield, slowly raised its head, its vertical crimson eyes undisturbed.

It glanced at Viserys, who was playing with the young dragon below, and then let out a low growl from its throat, the breath from its nostrils blowing away the dust on the ground.

"Hmm?"

The silver-haired youth turned his head slightly and saw a small boat slowly approaching from the sparkling sea of the Great Lagoon.

Balerion, lying on the ground like a small mountain, had an unobstructed view of the sea. The people on the boat saw Balerion but continued to sail firmly towards them, clearly with a specific purpose in mind.

Viserys nodded slightly, and Balerion, having received his consent, did not destroy the small boat with a blast of dragon fire but instead laid its massive head back on the ground.

The people on the boat, as they approached the foot of the headless Titan, showed expressions of sorrow on their faces. But Tormo Freyga, the new Sea Lord of Braavos, was silently praying in his heart.

Finally, the small boat reached the shore, and Tormo, holding the scepter symbolizing the power of the Sea Lord, was the first to disembark. Although the giant dragon nearby paid him no attention, the hot breath that met him made the new Sea Lord feel weak in the knees.

However, the bravest people are not those who ignore fear but those who face it head-on, knowing full well what they fear.

Tormo suppressed his inner terror and bowed deeply to the handsome silver-haired youth sitting on a rock, wearing only the lining of his armor, and having thrown his armor aside on the nearby grass.

"Your Grace."

Though they had never met before, he knew that the young man before him was the renowned Dragon Prince, who had defeated Braavos single-handedly with one dragon the night before, prompting him to set out for negotiations at dawn.

The wreckage of the invincible fleet was still floating on the sea, and the collapsed towers of the Sea Lord's Palace were half-submerged in the water.

"When I first came to this city, I was only eight years old," Viserys said, sitting unceremoniously on a stone at the foot of the Titan.

"Now, ten years have passed."

Tormo's face was tense as Viserys spoke, and although he had stood up, his shoulders were slightly drooped, standing downhill, symbolically in a weaker position.

However, Viserys's next words changed Tormo's expression slightly.

"Braavos once did me a favor, but I have repaid that favor."

"And now Braavos is my enemy, opposing me at every turn, causing me trouble. How shall we settle this account?"

The Iron Bank's loans to the Targaryens had been fully repaid.

Braavos had initially supported the Targaryens to undermine the Baratheon rule, making the Iron Throne's control less stable. Viserys had done just that, not only disrupting the Baratheon rule but also seizing the Iron Throne for himself.

Even Braavos had facilitated the meeting between the Prince of Dorne and Viserys, leading to a betrothal, and now Arianne was even carrying his child.

Viserys had followed Braavos's plans at every turn, but as his strength grew, especially after acquiring the dragons, he became a threat to Braavos's position.

Subsequently, Feirego Antaryon had taken consecutive actions to trip Viserys up, turning their former goodwill into accumulating hatred, culminating in Viserys burning Braavos the previous night.

Chapter 465: Terms of Negotiation

"Your Grace."

"Ferego Antaryon has committed grave mistakes and has been deposed from the Seastone Chair through a vote in the House of Truth. He is now imprisoned in the dungeons, awaiting trial."

Upon hearing Viserys's suddenly altered tone, Tormo Fregar's expression tightened, and he hurriedly spoke.

No matter whether the plan to steal the dragons had been approved by them or not, at this time, all the blame would be placed on the head of the former Sea King of Braavos.

After all, Ferego Antaryon had become the designated sacrificial lamb, perfect to quench Viserys's wrath.

However, unfortunately, merely deposing the previous Sea King would not bring this matter to a satisfactory conclusion.

After all, in this nakedly real world, might makes right, especially when Braavos is in the wrong. They could only bow their heads and submit.

The new Sea King had not yet selected his chief swordsman, a vital position that must be filled by someone of both virtue and ability, and absolutely trustworthy.

Now, to show his sincerity, he had come to negotiate with only a small number of soldiers.

Braavos's soldiers stood far away, not eavesdropping on the conversation between the two men. Viserys and Tormo's negotiation was simple, looking like two men chatting by the roadside.

Although the new Sea King of Braavos was at a disadvantage, being the one with the smaller fist, he still argued reasonably on some issues raised by Viserys and did not allow himself to be slaughtered.

Viserys, having recently become accustomed to the Seven Kingdoms' nobles who bent with the wind, looked at Tormo Fregar with new respect.

The man could bend and stretch, not stubbornly adhering to so-called honor, nor showing a spineless tendency to kneel before others. It seemed he had been elected the next Sea King of Braavos for good reason.

With human progress and the leap of civilization, the national system indeed became more and more critical. However, Viserys did not rashly change to a monarchy or, as Tyrion would later suggest, an elective monarchy.

Each era has the system most suited to it, a historical inevitability. In the current age, even an incompetent king could maintain the country's rule and stability, avoiding war and division, especially for a vast nation where the dispersion of power could easily breed rebellion.

Braavos, with only one city, could play its own game, but Viserys could not afford to do so.

Eventually, the casual negotiation between the two men reached a conclusion, and there was no need to sign any agreement. When one party's strength was sufficient to casually fly overhead and defecate, an agreement became unimportant, merely a piece of waste paper.

Braavos needed to publicly try the former Sea King, Ferego Antaryon, and announce his crimes, including the theft of the young dragons, previous assassination attempts by the Faceless Men, contacts with the Dothraki, and a series of other offenses.

This act of publicizing the crimes would undoubtedly deal a significant blow to the Sea King's authority among the people of Braavos.

However, this was Viserys's first demand and the basis of the negotiation. Tormo had no choice but to grit his teeth and agree.

Then, Viserys opportunistically proposed the abolition of the Iron Throne's debts to the Iron Bank, incurred during the Baratheon dynasty.

That money was not borrowed by him, and he had no reason to repay it on behalf of Robert Baratheon.

However, previously, Braavos had always been in a superior position in world politics.

The Iron Bank's overbearing terms were that no matter the change of dynasty or power, all governors, princes, or kings must respect the Iron Bank's contracts, recognize the previous debts, and repay them. Otherwise, the Iron Bank would embark on furious retaliation.

Even the Braavosi had a proud saying: "The Iron Bank will have its due."

But these depended on Braavos retaining absolute strength, with its invincible fleet that dominated the Narrow Sea and even the Summer Sea as the capital for debt collection.

Now, the situation had reversed, and Braavos had fallen from grace. Viserys, holding absolute strength, naturally would not accept such domineering terms.

Moreover, Robert's years of profligacy, plus the money borrowed to defeat the White Walkers, was simply too much.

Viserys had begun to refuse to repay the debt even before he ascended the Iron Throne...

Tormo Fregar naturally found it hard to speak, as the Iron Bank in Braavos was a terrifying force that even the Sea King dared not provoke.

However, fortunately, the possibility of Viserys defaulting on the debt had already been psychologically anticipated by the Keyholders and the Iron Bank's manager during the meeting in the basement of the House of Truth.

After all, one must bow under the eaves, especially as the Targaryen family's power was swelling, absorbing a large number of soldiers after defeating the White Walkers and the allied forces. Even after selecting the best, the total military strength was still close to one hundred thousand.

With the three-headed dragon banner flying over the Narrow Sea, and the shipyards of Pentos not far behind Braavos, new warships were being launched at a rapid pace.

Even without this matter, the Iron Bank had prepared a plan to deal with Viserys's default.

Whether to retaliate or remain silent had not been unanimously agreed upon, but now Viserys had helped them make the choice.

Through the Keyholders' and the Iron Bank's manager's nods, the massive deficit on the books would be collectively filled by many families.

However, Viserys's conditions were not over.

He then demanded the return of three dragon eggs
stolen over two hundred years ago.

This was an old story, occurring around the 41st year of Aegon's Conquest, and even Tormo Fregar was baffled.

However, the three dragon eggs had long disappeared in the river of time, and their whereabouts were unknown.

After all, even at the time, this was a highly confidential matter, with little external circulation. More importantly, after so much time had passed, even the authenticity of this matter was hard to discern, and Viserys found it difficult to confirm.

Tormo Fregar denied the existence of the dragon eggs, and Viserys bluffed and threatened for a while, but to no avail. The new Sea King clearly claimed ignorance, and in the end, the matter had to be dropped.

Viserys didn't have high expectations of recovering the two-hundred-year-old dragon eggs, but the absence of the eggs could not be simply dismissed.

Since Braavos could not find the dragon eggs stolen from Dragonstone two hundred years ago, they needed to compensate with a large sum of gold dragons.

This was reasonable.

Finally, after some haggling...

Tormo Fregar's face was not looking good, even somewhat livid, but he still gritted his teeth and agreed.

Chapter 466: Return to Pentos

However, just as the negotiation agreement was reached and the newly appointed Sea King was preparing to take his leave, Viserys suddenly spoke a sentence that made him pause.

Tormo Fregar's face first showed surprise, then astonishment, but soon after, a thoughtful expression appeared.

The new Sea King was silent for a long while, but he did not give Viserys a clear answer, merely bowing slightly.

"Your Grace."

Then he took his leave, departing from beneath the Titan's feet to return to the House of Truth by boat, where many were waiting for him.

With matters in Braavos concluded, Viserys did not linger. After a brief contemplation, he mounted his dragon, ready to return to Pentos with the silver ingot.

Since the expedition to Westeros began, nearly half a year had passed. He did not know what had transpired in Pentos, but the fact that the little silver dragon had come to Braavos was enough to indicate that something had gone awry.

Balerion growled slightly in discontent. The burning of Braavos the previous night had consumed much of its energy, and it had not rested long before being called upon to travel again.

But aside from a low growl, Balerion made no other protest. The dragon's vitality far surpassed that of humans. With a powerful beat of its wings, a rolling wave of air spread from beneath, and it carried Viserys and the silver ingot into the sky, flying over Braavos towards Pentos with the rising sun.

In Pentos, the former rebellion had dissipated, and the theft of a young dragon had been suppressed, with no word leaking out.

Viserys's sudden return caught everyone off guard, and what added joy to the surprise was that he had brought back the missing young dragon.

"Your Grace."

Jon Connington's face was filled with shame. Though the theft of the dragon was more Daenerys's responsibility, the princess was only a little girl.

As Viserys's 'steward' left in Pentos, Jon Connington naturally bore some blame for the incident.

"Sister."

On the other side, the silver-haired little princess knelt on a cushion, clutching the corners of her dress, somewhat afraid to meet Viserys's eyes.

As for the 'culprit' of the whole affair, it lay on the ground, yawning lazily, seemingly unaware of the trouble it had caused or the punishment others had suffered because of it.

Viserys did not blame either of them. What was done was done, and dwelling on the past would serve no purpose.

The five young dragons would grow stronger and more robust with age, and such incidents would naturally not happen again.

Viserys was more concerned about the rebellion of the Ragged Prince, for it had given him an idea.

"Jon, you've done very well during this time. Don't be too hard on yourself."

Though the victory in war was mostly due to the soldiers' bravery, those working in logistics and supply were equally deserving of credit. Without their tireless efforts, the war would not have gone so smoothly.

Jon Connington, left behind as the 'steward' of the rear, was naturally entrusted with great confidence.

And Jon, twice honored with the Hand of the King's badge, had not betrayed Viserys's trust.

The logistical support for the overseas war was ample, with no issues arising. Pentos developed steadily, and the Ragged Prince's rebellion was quelled with minimal cost.

"As for you,"

Viserys then turned to his sister, and Daenerys's face filled with anticipation.

She had heard her brother praise Jon Connington and thought she would be praised as well. But to her surprise, Viserys playfully flicked her nose.

"Why did you have the dragon come for a plan that was long prepared and almost certain to succeed?"

"Didn't I say not to let the dragons near Pentos unless necessary?"

With the earliest three dragons growing larger, Viserys, though loving his dragons, had to consider the feelings of his subjects.

The appearance of dragons in the city might cause cheers, but more often, it would frighten people.

And the more often they appeared, the less people would fear them.

He did not want to repeat the scene of the King's Landing riot, where farmers armed with sticks dared to attack a dragon trapped in the dragon pit.

Dragons, as 'strategic-level' weapons, needed to maintain a certain mystique to strike fear into the enemies of House Targaryen.

"I was afraid something would go wrong, wasn't I?"

Hearing Viserys's words, the little girl looked aggrieved, never admitting that she had summoned Vhagar to the scene out of fear.

"Isn't Silverwing back now?"

"I think it looks more spirited than before. This journey has stimulated its potential."

"Yes, a perfect journey indeed."

"For this journey, I almost burned Braavos to the ground."

Viserys was amused by Daenerys's evasive manner and ruffled her hair.

"What?"

Daenerys was taken aback by his words, seemingly not understanding. She blinked.

"Weren't the people who stole Silverwing from Volantis?"

When the incident occurred, Daenerys was at a loss, and Jon Connington took charge, ordering a thorough investigation of all clues.

All the mercenaries who died in the Kingswood bore clues related to Braavos.

Even one of them had a special silver coin symbolizing the Faceless Men. At the time, everyone had concluded that these people were from Braavos.

However, someone discovered a relatively intact body wearing a human skin mask. The rest of the bodies were in a gruesome state, all burned to cinders by Vhagar's furious dragonfire, some even beyond recognition.

After removing the human skin mask, they found clear 'tiger stripes' on the corpse's cheek, along with a flame tattoo. These were real tattoos, not part of the mask, and everyone present was astonished.

The tiger stripes were a special symbol of Volantis's 'Tiger Cloaks' army, and half of the Tiger Cloaks were followers of the Red God, tattooing flames on their cheeks, arms, or chests.

With this evidence, it was clear that the dragon thieves were actually from Volantis.

Other clues pointed to Tyrosh, Lys, or Volantis, and even a ship flying the Tyroshi flag had anchored near the coast that day, then sailed towards Braavos and sank hundreds of miles away, for unknown reasons.

Chapter 467: The Provincial Governor

Nearly all the evidence gathered from the investigation pointed to Volantis.

In a high-level military meeting in Pentos, everyone suggested a furious retaliation against Volantis. However, Jon Clinton suppressed these calls.

He instinctively felt that there was something more to this matter.

Yet now, hearing what Viserys had said, Jon's expression shifted slightly.

He had not expected that the true enemy indeed came from Braavos, mixing truth with falsehood, attempting to divert attention to the south.

Fortunately, he had calmed down at the time and temporarily refrained from retaliating against Volantis, or the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Now, hearing the King's words, the matter seemed settled. He had taught Braavos a painful lesson, though Jon wondered what state Braavos was in now.

The man with ash-red hair, dressed in noble attire and wearing the Hand of the King's badge, pondered in silence.

At that moment, Viserys turned his head to look at Jon Clinton and said, "Jon, we need to talk later."

He did not explain to Daenerys why Volantis had stolen the dragon only to set fire to Braavos. Jon's expression faltered, and he quickly nodded.

"Very well."

The Iron Throne was within reach, but for some reason, Viserys felt a bit restless, even somewhat evasive.

Perhaps this was why he had unhesitatingly ridden the dragon to Braavos.

Because stepping out of the circle and looking at it calmly from an observer's perspective, he realized that the throne, forged from thousands of swords, had no real value.

Instead, it brought more disaster, with conflicts surrounding this iron chair stretching over hundreds of years, filled with bloodshed, killing, and sin.

In simple terms, it was a case of being capricious.

But this did not prevent His Grace from whimsically taking a walk and setting fire to a city to ease his inner anxiety.

In the Royal Garden of the Nine Towers Palace, filled with exotic beasts and blooming flowers, Jon Clinton appeared behind Viserys, his eyes complex as he said, "Your Grace."

The young princess had been present earlier, so some things were not convenient to say. Therefore, they had chosen to speak outside.

Jon had first seen Viserys in the city of Pentos when the young man had not yet come of age but had the courage to lead a mere two hundred soldiers into a hostile city.

Jon, then a member of the city's defense force, had seen Viserys's figure from afar.

But he never imagined that a few years later, this boy would soar, breaking free from his constraints, and no one could limit his height thereafter.

Viserys handed Jon a small booklet he had written during his leisure time after the war.

He had thought a lot about the future, mainly planning and reflecting. However, Viserys had uncharacteristically chosen a cautious attitude, seeking the opinions of his senior officials.

Jon took the booklet from Viserys and glanced through it, his face changing slightly.

It was all Viserys's handwriting, recording some of his thoughts. Though it seemed a bit messy, the expression was clear.

"The concentration and unification of the state's power is the trend of the times."

As many nobles of the Seven Kingdoms feared, Viserys decided to apply the system he had experimented with on the Essos continent to Westeros.

He decided to take advantage of the conquest to make sweeping changes, cutting through the chaos.

His first cut, from top to bottom, was aimed at the heads of the Seven Kingdoms' rulers.

Viserys's provisional plan was to abolish the military title of 'Warden,' strip all ducal titles (except Dorne), demote them to earls, retain their lands, and restructure them into 'governor' positions.

From now on, only members of the Targaryen royal family could be granted ducal titles.

Except for the heir's title of Duke of Dragonstone, other dukes would have only honor without real power, and the title could not be inherited.

As for the abolition of the Warden and the establishment of the governor's position, it was still a ruling position in a region, but not as secure and powerful as before.

The King had the right to dismiss the governor at any time, appoint another local noble to the position, or even parachute in an outsider.

Viserys's plan did not stop there.

His sweeping actions were even more radical than in Andalos, which was why Jon Clinton's expression changed so drastically.

Viserys planned to change the political system of the Seven Kingdoms and nine regions, subject to the Iron Throne, into 'provinces,' abolishing the title of the Seven Kingdoms.

The power of the provinces would be highly concentrated in the central government. From then on, Westeros would have only one kingdom, and only one kingdom
would be allowed.

Dorne, due to its outstanding merits, would temporarily remain outside this sequence, retaining a certain independence and the title of 'Prince,' existing as a special region.

The dazzling words 'strip titles,' 'establish provinces,' 'appoint governors' made Jon Clinton's heart race, and his breathing became rapid.

He had never thought that Viserys would be even more radical than he had imagined.

Especially when he saw the line 'Jon Clinton provisionally designated as Earl of Griffin's Roost, Governor of the Stormlands Province,' his throat even rolled, feeling a dryness.

"Your Grace, is this... too fast?" Jon Clinton, though having weathered many storms, couldn't help but feel his heart race at this moment.

Although the power of the governor after the reform was greatly reduced compared to the former Duke of Storm's End, it was still a meteoric rise, becoming the ruler of the Stormlands Province.

Griffin's Roost was small, but it was Jon's home.

And although victory was assured, the war was not over, and the future of Storm's End was still undecided. It might be left to the Baratheon family or completely expelled.

Other names were also on the list.

'Provisionally designated Bessie Joyce as Governor of Pentos.'

'Provisionally designated Geoffrey Bracken as Earl of Stone Hedge, Governor of the Riverlands Province.'

'Duke of Summerhall, Rhaenys Targaryen.'

'Duke of Dragonstone, Dany.'

Seeing this, Jon Clinton was slightly startled.

He quickly averted his eyes, not daring to continue reading.

Chapter 468: Just a Joke

"Too fast?"

"I don't think it's fast at all."

Viserys paused slightly at Jon Connington's words, a mix of excitement and concern, then slowly began to speak.

"Families, lands, self-rule; this system has persisted in Westeros for thousands, even tens of thousands of years."

"This system has given birth to endless wars. Great lords fight great lords, lesser lords fight lesser lords. Production lags, the people suffer, and it seriously hinders social development and the progress of civilization."

"Aegon united the Seven Kingdoms, but it was merely a nominal consolidation, ending the constant chaos."

Before Aegon's unification, this land had been ravaged by endless wars, the seven great kingdoms constantly warring, the people suffering.

But the Seven Kingdoms had been established for so long, and there had been opposition when they were first united.

There were even repeated assassination attempts, but as time went on, people gradually realized the benefits of unity.

However, Aegon's unification was only superficial. It looked like a united kingdom, but in reality, there were deep divisions, each region still acting on its own.

What Viserys wanted to do now was to truly unify Westeros.

So the first step he had to take was to violently tear down every 'high wall' they had built.

"The city-states of Essos began to change earlier than Westeros."

"Jon, you've lived here for many years, I believe you can feel it."

Jon Connington nodded slightly at Viserys's words. The atmosphere in Essos was more liberal, and each city-state had its own system, almost a hundred schools of thought contending.

This had led to each independent city-state having an average economic and military level surpassing the cities of Westeros.

In contrast, Westeros seemed stubborn, conservative, and unenlightened, with families that had been handed down for thousands of years, and even some for tens of thousands of years.

"And now is the best opportunity."

"With the chaos that already exists, we can completely smash the old order."

"After all, one window is already broken; why not smash it completely?"

These words were not spoken by Viserys, but by Jon Connington.

He seemed thoughtful, as if he had begun to understand what Viserys wanted to do.

After all, Westeros was already in chaos due to the invasion of the Others and the conquest. Why not take this opportunity to solve all the problems at once? If they waited until everything had settled down, unresolved issues would become troublesome.

Although Jon Connington was persuaded by Viserys and felt a surge of excitement, for this was a major event destined to go down in the history of Westeros, he still had one question and couldn't help but ask.

"Your Grace, what do you really want?"

"What do I want?"

Viserys's eyebrows raised slightly at Jon Connington's question.

"What else is there to want in this world besides power, status, and wealth?"

The Hand of the King opened his mouth but was at a loss for words. He wanted to say women, but considering the young and handsome king seemed not to lack female attention, he swallowed his words.

"At first, I only wanted to protect Rhaenys and Dany, and to survive."

"Later, when I had the ability to protect them, I wanted to take back the Iron Throne."

"A man's ambition grows without limit."

Viserys spoke jokingly.

"If I said I wanted to rebuild the Valyrian Empire and proclaim myself the Holy Valyrian Emperor, would you believe me?"

Under the morning sun, the man with ash-red hair's Hand of the King badge reflected a faint glow. Jon Connington's face froze, and then his mouth slowly opened wide.

"Just a joke."

However, the silver-haired youth shook his head, plucking a beautiful flower from the garden.

The spring breeze stirred, flowers blooming everywhere.

An old black cat, chasing a butterfly, ran past, then, seeing Viserys, hid far away as if seeing some great demon.

"What lies to the west of Westeros?"

Jon Connington slowly recovered from his shock, then, hearing Viserys's question, thought carefully and replied.

"It seems to be an endless sea, just as Sothoryos is an endless land, Your Grace."

No one had explored the end of Sothoryos, and likewise, no one knew what lay beyond the Sunset Sea.

Was it the Drowned God's watery halls?

Or the place where the Red God took the sunset and brought the dawn?

"No one knows."

Jon Connington shook his head slightly.

"That's where all maps end."

"Perhaps one day, when I have some leisure, I'll ride a dragon to the end of the world."

Viserys quietly watched the old black cat's fleeing figure for a long time.

Then he handed the plucked flower to a pretty little maid who happened to be passing by, causing her to blush.

Viserys's stay in Pentos was brief, and he didn't rest for more than a few days before mounting his dragon and flying to King's Landing.

The world imposes many restrictions on everyone.

After all, humans are social animals, and human society is structured like a pyramid. Even the whimsical king had to return to King's Landing to deal with many things he had briefly escaped.

The shadow of the black dragon, vast as it blocked the sun, appeared over Blackwater Bay, causing a stir among the nobles in the Red Keep.

In the Fishmonger's Square by the Mud Gate, a frightened beast even knocked over a basket of fish, fresh big fish flopping all over the ground, then quickly snatched up, leaving only the fishmonger sitting on the ground, almost in tears.

"This black dragon is much larger than the Princess's bronze one."

A bald eunuch, dressed in a long robe, hands crossed and hidden in his sleeves, looked up at the sky and spoke.

"Rhaegal. Is that its name?"

"Every time I hear that name, I think of that much-anticipated Silver Prince, but alas, he disappointed everyone's expectations."

"Rhaegal is like a 'little darling' in front of the Black Dread."

Varys, leaning against the railing, spoke in a teasing tone, as if talking to himself.

"Indeed."

A response came from below the railing of the Red Keep's high tower.

The 'Imp,' Tyrion Lannister, was too short, so he had to spread his hands below the railing and speak.

"How else could His Grace have repelled those terrifying Others?"

"Why did tens of thousands of allied forces flee from the Twins to Riverrun without even a chance to resist?"

Tyrion, although without a specific position, was known to all that after being recommended by Princess Rhaenys, he was destined for greatness.

As for Varys, the Master of Whisperers, he retained his original position.

Rhaenys had not made sweeping changes to the Small Council, but Grand Maester Pycelle had recently resigned, wanting to leave King's Landing and return to the Citadel, only to be detained.

The reason was that someone had exposed his past deeds, any one of which could have condemned him to death.

Chapter 469: The Current Situation

After many years.

Once again, he had returned to King's Landing, and all eyes were fixed on the handsome young man with silver hair.

They thought Viserys would be overcome with nostalgia, lamenting the swift passage of time and the changes that had taken place.

After all, this was where Viserys had grown up.

Unlike Rhaenys, Viserys had left the Red Keep at the age of seven, well past the age of memory.

The Red Keep should have been the most cherished memory of his childhood, for he was once the pampered second prince of House Targaryen, not a fugitive with his mother, Queen Rhaella.

But reality was not as they had expected.

Viserys looked at the magnificent palace of the Seven Kingdoms atop Aegon's High Hill, but he felt no profound memories.

The Red Keep was strange to him, and he felt more like a tourist visiting a famous landmark.

The main reason was that the last time he had been to the Red Keep was when he had just come into this world.

At that time, the atmosphere within the Red Keep was tense. Prince Rhaegar had just died in battle, and there was a palpable sense of doom.

Time had not been on his side, and he had not been given much opportunity to familiarize himself with the palace. Viserys had barely had a chance to explore the Red Keep before he was whisked away in a carriage, fleeing King's Landing.

Now, Viserys was silent, saying nothing, walking and looking here, touching there.

To the many trembling nobles following him, it seemed as if the king was reminiscing about the past.

Later.

In the Prime Minister's Tower of the Red Keep.

"As for the current situation," someone began, "the Princess Regent has sent ravens to all the nobles, informing them that the Iron Throne has changed hands. But the results have been meager. The Vale and the Westerlands have not clearly indicated submission."

The current Duke of the Vale was Robert Arryn, the beloved child of Jon Arryn, the former usurper's Prime Minister.

But he was still a child, ignorant of the ways of the world. In theory, the actual control of the Vale should have been in the hands of his mother, Lysa Tully.

However, Lysa Tully was not a strong-willed person, even though her father had died in the Battle of Riverrun. Since she and her father, Hoster Tully, had never been close, she should not have held out for so long.

Now, some intelligence had been received that the power in the Vale had fallen into other hands. An alliance of many nobles had been formed, and they refused to kneel to Viserys.

As for the Westerlands, it went without saying. The Lannisters had grievously offended the Targaryens. To surrender would be no different from courting death.

According to Tyrion's judgment of his father, Tywin would rather die on the battlefield than willingly walk to the gallows.

"In the Stormlands, Lord Renly Baratheon was inclined to kneel and was probing our intentions regarding his treatment after surrender."

"Renly hopes to retain Storm's End and his position as Lord of the Stormlands."

"But according to intelligence, Stannis, who escaped from prison a while ago, has appeared in Storm's End. He has been hailed by a group of vassals loyal to the Baratheon family."

"Whether the Stormlands can be peacefully incorporated into the kingdom's territory is now in question."

"As for the South, the Dornish army's plundering and killing in the Riverlands have angered the Tyrell family. The Rose of Highgarden has summoned her vassals, vowing revenge."

The Tyrell family of the Riverlands had always been skilled in diplomacy. Although they could mobilize military power surpassing the Lannisters and had a navy rivaling the royal fleet, the Rose of Highgarden was not adept at leading troops.

However, in the current clear-cut situation, the Tyrells still had not knelt, showing just how powerful Viserys's reforms on the continent of Essos had been.

Except for the North, still covered in ice and snow, where Viserys's troops had taken without bloodshed, his next conquest of other regions would require every inch to be paved with blood.

These old nobles would not kneel willingly, giving up their power if they had any way to avoid it.

And if Viserys were to promise not to apply his new laws in Westeros, perhaps the majority of the wars in the Seven Kingdoms would cease the next day, and banners would be changed immediately.

But that would be another cycle of history, and he would lose the true meaning of reclaiming the Iron Throne.

In the reception hall of the Prime Minister's Tower in the Red Keep, several chairs were arranged.

Viserys sat in the central position, the seat opposite him, reserved for the Hand of the King, was empty.

On either side were the seats filled with important ministers of the royal council, except for a few vacant ones.

The new dynasty's Minister of Justice, Oberyn Martell, Admiral Joffrey Bracken, Master of Whisperers Varys, Princess Regent Rhaenys, and Tyrion, recommended by Rhaenys, were present. The position of the Captain of the Kingsguard was occupied by the red-haired female knight, Mya.

Besides the Hand of the King, the seats for the Grand Maester and the Minister of Finance were also empty.

The Minister of Finance, Illyrio, was still in Pentos, helping the Hand of the King stabilize the situation and had not accompanied the army to Westeros. The Grand Maester Pycelle had just been imprisoned.

The one speaking was Tyrion.

He was not originally qualified to attend the royal council, and there was indeed no place for him here.

The Imp was merely standing beside the table, speaking, and everyone had to sit up straight in their chairs to see him.

But Viserys had heard Rhaenys's recommendation and had given him an exceptional opportunity to present himself.

In fact, this was the first time he had seen this famous 'dwarf,' a 'giant' in the field of wisdom. Even without Rhaenys's recommendation, he wanted to meet this important character who had shone so brightly in the original trajectory.

And Tyrion, seeing that Viserys had not interrupted him, felt a slight thrill and continued to speak.

"Although we are at a stalemate now, the initiative is still in our hands."

"According to the situation, as long as we do not actively launch the Second Conquest, there will not be a large-scale conflict for now."

The Westerlands, the Vale, the Stormlands, and the Riverlands, four enemies, were surrounding the territories under Viserys's control, including the Crownlands and the Riverlands.

If one looked at the map, the situation did not seem very favorable. However, the Targaryen army was strong and well-equipped, with dragons as their top combat power, and Dorne as an ally.

This encirclement could easily turn into a blossoming center, and wherever the Targaryen army pointed, this net could easily be torn apart.

However, the enemy had gathered forces from four regions, occupying half of the Seven Kingdoms. Viserys would still need to fight steadily to win the upcoming war, or he could easily capsize.

Both sides needed precious time to recuperate, and a temporary ceasefire seemed to be a tacit agreement.

"However, Your Grace, there are more important matters to attend to besides war," Tyrion continued.

Chapter 470: Volunteering for Battle

For the young king, there were only three important matters to attend to next.

First was to hold the wedding as soon as possible. Arianne was already five or six months pregnant, and if they did not hold the wedding soon, their child would be born.

Though they could hold a belated wedding, and no one would dare say much about it, it would still be a stain, small or large, on the noble royal family. The common folk might not care, but for the royalty, it was a matter of honor.

Thus, the king's wedding was set for half a month later in the Great Sept of Baelor. The guests eligible to attend the wedding were not many, mainly members of the Targaryen family and their important ministers.

The bride's side had fewer people. Her uncle, Prince Oberyn, and the Sand Snakes would attend. Arianne's father, Prince Doran, had not left the Water Gardens for many years due to gout.

The bride's younger brother, Prince Quentyn Martell, had sailed to King's Landing long ago and arrived recently. Another prince, Trystane, was too young and remained in Dorne, not coming to attend his sister's wedding.

At the wedding, Prince Quentyn would join Aegon's two young boys as flower bearers, and Sansa Stark of Winterfell, whose age was just right, would be a bridesmaid to help the bride with her train.

Preparations for the king's wedding had begun in King's Landing even before Arianne's arrival.

However, the royal wedding process was extremely complex and high in rank, and even several months of preparation might not be enough.

After all, no king or prince would hold a wedding in such haste. Viserys's brief trip to Braavos gave the busy Master of Ceremonies a respite, adding a few more days for arrangements.

The second important matter for Viserys was to be crowned again, a matter that initially caused some controversy.

Viserys felt it was redundant and unnecessary to be crowned again, but some ministers and advisors suggested that the new king be crowned again in King's Landing to make it more legitimate.

After all, Viserys's first coronation was on Dragonstone, at a time when the Targaryen dynasty was on the brink of collapse. Queen Rhaella crowned her son herself, and it inevitably seemed hasty, perhaps even unnoticed by the gods.

As for his claimed second coronation, Viserys knew in his heart that it was pure fabrication.

The Seven Gods had not crowned him, and the Father had not plucked stars from the sky to set in his crown.

That time, it was the ministers' idea, to connect with the divine for a better foothold in the Andal plains and rule over this 'gifted land' of Braavos.

Viserys could not resist the ministers' advice, as holding such a seemingly useless ceremony actually had some help for the future war.

People in this world were very firm in their persistence and belief in certain things.

Finally, the young silver-haired king agreed to hold the coronation ceremony again, and the day was set for some time before the royal wedding.

However, that was not all.

Viserys had one last important matter: the trial of the usurper Robert Baratheon and his supporters, such as Eddard Stark.

Viserys had once declared that he would publicly try these people, exposing their crimes, including some secrets.

Although many of the culprits on the list had died over the years.

For example, Jon Arryn, the Duke of the Eyrie, who played a significant role in the Wolf-Stag-Fish-Eagle alliance, was assassinated. Hoster Tully, the Duke of Riverrun, was betrayed and beheaded by his own vassal.

And some had not been caught, such as Tywin Lannister, the Duke of Casterly Rock, who had escaped by boat from the battlefield of Riverrun.

These were the named culprits who were almost impossible to forgive.

But this trial could no longer be delayed, as Robert had been in his hands for so long, and further delay would only create more problems.

Viserys also feared that delay would lead to change.

Therefore, in Viserys's first formal court meeting after returning to the Red Keep, the public trial of the culprits in the War of the Usurper was set for some time after the royal wedding.

"If the respected Tywin Lannister is absent from the public trial, I think it would be a regrettable matter," said Oberyn, who sat with his legs crossed, looking somewhat flippant. He stroked his slightly curled beard, speaking in a mocking tone.

Then he turned his head and looked at Tyrion, the Imp, with interest. This dwarf was different from his appearance, with uncommon wisdom in his small body. His clear and logical analysis had just earned Oberyn's respect.

Tyrion, feeling Oberyn's gaze, shivered slightly and quickly lowered his head, playing with his fingers.

"Tsks," Oberyn shrugged his shoulders, withdrawing his gaze.

Though he looked frivolous, his dark eyes flashed with a cold light.

Clearly, he was not as calm inside as he appeared.

His sister Elia's death had little to do with Robert, the Baratheons, or Eddard Stark; they were only indirectly responsible.

Even Oberyn was willing to admit that if the Lord of Winterfell had taken King's Landing first, his sister would not have been harmed.

The actual murderer of Elia was the "Mountain," Gregor Clegane, and the real culprit behind him was Tywin Lannister.

He deceived the gates of King's Landing and led the Lannister soldiers to burn, kill, and loot in the city. Tywin had to use Elia and Aegon's heads as his credentials since the Lannisters were late, and Rhaegar's death and Robert's victory were inevitable.

And indeed, Tywin's tactics were brilliant, and he reaped the second-largest victory after the Baratheons.

But now Oberyn had voluntarily removed the Hand's badge and led the Targaryen's second legion across the sea to Westeros to settle accounts with the Lannisters.

"Your Grace, I wish to request to lead the troops to attack the Westerlands alone," Oberyn said, his face becoming serious, and his crossed legs straightening. "I promise you, I will 'invite' Tywin Lannister to attend the trial before the public trial."

Chapter 471: The Three-Eyed Raven

Oberyn Martell volunteered for battle, his face weathered and serious, streaked with a few strands of silver at the temples.

He had once guarded the wild mountain camp by the Lorn River in Andalos for several years.

Every day, Oberyn diligently trained his soldiers, all for the day when he could return to Westeros and personally avenge his sister Elia.

Those who knew Oberyn, or had served under him, understood how serious and meticulous the seemingly carefree Prince of Dorne was when training his soldiers.

All his efforts were for this day, his life's greatest goal.

In the Prime Minister's Tower, within the royal council chamber, all the high officials held their breath, looking towards Viserys.

Viserys was silent for a moment, his fingers interlocked on the table, looking at the spread-out map, before slowly nodding.

"You may."

The tension in Oberyn's eyes relaxed slightly, and the rest of the council breathed a sigh of relief.

"However,"

But Viserys had not finished speaking.

The Second Legion was mostly composed of men from Lys, with the remainder being Andals, and some surrendered enemy prisoners had been incorporated into the Second Legion. The main force was under Viserys's direct command.

The Second Legion had reached twenty thousand men after absorbing some of the surrendered forces. Though a large number, conquering the complex terrain of the Westerlands would still be fraught with difficulties.

After all, Tywin Lannister's reputation was formidable, and as one of the most famous commanders in the Seven Kingdoms, he was not an easy man to deal with.

Viserys suggested sending the Golden Company to assist Oberyn in conquering the Westerlands, but the Prince of Dorne shook his head and refused.

"Your Grace, the Golden Company must remain in King's Landing, to face the threats of the Vale, the Stormlands, and the Riverlands. We must be wary of Tywin abandoning Casterly Rock to join the other dukes, marching straight into King's Landing through the Goldroad."

Their controlled territories were flat and open, without natural defenses, and required guarding from multiple directions.

If Viserys sent too many soldiers to help him attack the Westerlands, it would leave the rear vulnerable, and a surprise attack could cause significant losses.

Though Oberyn refused Viserys's offer to send the Golden Company, he requested that the Master of Ships, Count Jeffrey Bracken, send a fleet to attack the enemy along the Westerlands' coastline.

The Westerlands were a hilly region with a long chain of mountains as barriers, making an attack from the Riverlands difficult.

"I plan to enter the Westerlands from the south, breaking through Hayford Hall along the Coastal Road, and then taking Lannisport and Casterly Rock," Oberyn's finger traced the route on the map.

"Lord Jeffrey's fleet can support me at sea, helping me harass the Westerlands' coastline."

Sitting at Viserys's right hand, the white-haired Master of Ships nodded and spoke in a deep voice.

"It can be done."

The Westerlands' coastline was flat, making a naval invasion easier. This was why the Iron Fleet often raided the Westerlands, which lacked a strong navy.

"Very well, it is settled then," Viserys nodded decisively, confident in Oberyn's clever strategy and tactics. In the end, it would all come down to execution.

The silver-haired youth stood up, and the rest of the council quickly followed.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

Viserys's first royal council meeting in the Red Keep went smoothly, resolving many pending matters.

Oberyn was determined to march immediately, hoping to bring Lord Tywin to King's Landing for public trial, even missing Viserys's wedding to his niece.

Arianne was deeply regretful that her uncle would not attend her wedding.

The Princess of Dorne felt closer to her Uncle Oberyn than to her father, Prince Doran. She saw Oberyn as a true Dornish man, bold and passionate, while her father seemed weak and indifferent, even to the murder of his own sister.

Night.

In the Red Keep's Maegor's Holdfast, the core of the castle and home to the royal family, Viserys naturally took up residence in the king's bedroom. The previous occupants were Robert and Cersei, and before them, his parents, King Aerys and Queen Rhaella.

"You've worked hard these days," Viserys said, holding his fiancée's soft hand in one of his, the other resting on her swelling belly.

"My hardships are nothing compared to yours, my love," Arianne's deep eyes looked lovingly at her long-lost lover. Her nose was high, her chest fuller than before her pregnancy.

"I've missed you."

Arianne's tempting red lips kissed Viserys's cheek, followed by a soft laugh, her fingers moving down from his chest, undoing his belt.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Especially when pregnancy can stimulate certain hormones.

Viserys vaguely remembered that intimacy was forbidden in the first and last three months of pregnancy, but at that moment, he couldn't recall how many months had passed.

Just then, a knock came from outside the door.

Thump, thump—

Followed by the calm voice of the female knight.

"Your Grace."

...

Bran Stark and Alyssa Snow, among the black-cloaked brothers, escaped death in the icy North.

They were first trapped in the crypts after the Battle of Winterfell, then escaped before the Stark ancestors crawled out of their graves.

No one but them knew how they survived, including Tyrion, whom they rescued.

Tyrion only knew that they seemed to have been saved by a mysterious person or 'god' called the 'Three-Eyed Raven.'

The Three-Eyed Raven seemed to possess immense power, guiding them through the North, until they found a ship and escaped to Dragonstone.

The Three-Eyed Raven saved them but also made a request, asking them to find a silver-haired, purple-eyed person riding a dragon.

He didn't say the person's name, only describing their appearance, and everyone instantly understood he meant Viserys.

However, the Three-Eyed Raven shook his head, indicating that he didn't know what to call him.

But if they found him, he hoped they would pass on a message: he wanted to meet him.

"The Three-Eyed Raven?"

Viserys, sitting at his bedroom desk, looked at Bran Stark, his brow furrowing.

Chapter 472: Dwelling in Darkness

"Aye, Your Grace."

Benjen Stark knelt on one knee and rose after receiving a slight nod from Viserys. His grey-blue eyes harbored a trace of anxiety.

He knew of his elder brother's defeat and capture, now imprisoned in the dungeons of the Red Keep. As a Stark, Ned's own brother, he considered himself fortunate not to be seized.

They had come to King's Landing with the Golden Company from Dragonstone and had been living there for some time. Apart from awaiting Viserys and being forbidden to leave, they had enjoyed some freedom.

When Ned was first brought back, Benjen had sought permission to see his brother but was denied by the jailer, who stated that only Lady Catelyn had the right to visit, a concession granted by the princess out of pity for a wife's longing for her husband. Now, meeting Viserys, Benjen wished to request again.

"Your Gr—"

But he hesitated and closed his mouth. Cautious in nature, Benjen feared that his plea to see his brother might lead to his own imprisonment, leaving his nieces and nephews without support in this strange city.

Viserys, lost in thought over the term "Three-Eyed Raven" for some time, finally turned his attention back to the chief outrider. "Did the Three-Eyed Raven mention why he wishes to see me?" he asked.

Viserys knew of the Three-Eyed Raven's immobility, seemingly trapped within a massive weirwood tree, relying on its energy to sustain his life.

But why had he sent for him through the Night's Watch?

Viserys maintained his guard against this "relative," who seemed to possess magic and wielded one of the world's most mysterious forces: time. He could traverse the seas of time, glimpse the future, and revisit the past. Viserys feared that his existence might be exposed, causing further troubles.

Once, for a long time, ravens were the least welcome creatures in his castle. In his youth, Viserys practiced archery on them, and his black cat hunted them too. His guards and servants, knowing of his dislike, joined in the eradication, turning the castle into a forbidden land for ravens.

"I know not, Your Grace."

Benjen, hearing Viserys's question, shook his head quickly and dispelled his thoughts. Recalling his first encounter with the Three-Eyed Raven, he said, "He... seemed desperate, perhaps?"

Lost and starving in the snow-covered North, Benjen and his fellow brothers had been guided by a Child of the Forest named Leaf to a mysterious cave where they met the Three-Eyed Raven. With snow-white hair and a single crimson eye, emaciated and ragged, the figure had seemed dead until it suddenly spoke, startling Benjen.

"He spoke of an unclear path ahead, of a world that might be destroyed," Benjen continued. "He said the strongest roots are found in the darkest depths and that someone seeks him, destined to find him. They dwell together in darkness. Darkness is their cloak, their shield, nourishing him."

Benjen Stark recounted the cryptic words of the old man, intertwined with the weirwood, his every utterance profound and enigmatic.

He had met the Three-Eyed Raven just before the Battle of Cárlin Bay. At that time, Viserys and his Dothraki army had not yet reached Westeros. Benjen had presumed the end of the world referred to a war between men and the Others without dragon intervention, culminating in mankind's defeat and the world's engulfment by darkness.

Yet reality had proved different. Before Benjen could find Viserys, the dragon lord had landed in Westeros with his army and defeated the Others.

"A man seeks him and will find him?" Viserys repeated, his face betraying confusion. "They dwell together in darkness?"

He pondered the words, connecting them to his understanding of the Three-Eyed Raven, Bloodraven, also known as Brynden Rivers. A legitimatized bastard, former Hand of the King, and once Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he was no ordinary figure. What was he hinting at, and what connection did he have with the Others?

The questions remained unanswered until he met Brynden Rivers.

The world was vast, filled with secrets like the Golden Empire of Yi Ti and the Shadow Lands. Sensing the gaze of his betrothed and Benjen, Viserys set aside his doubts for now, nodding.

"I will see him if time allows," he said. "Where in the North is he?"

Although the North had remained largely inaccessible since the destruction of Cárlin Bay, Viserys knew he could fly there on his dragon at any time.

Whether it was the Night King's domain mattered little to him. The Night King, the Three-Eyed Raven, and he were all beyond human, difficult for any to harm.

"I do not know his exact location," Benjen admitted. "The Children of the Forest say their dwelling moves, hidden from common folk. Once you're near, Your Grace, they will find you."

Chapter 473: The Second Coronation

The Three-Eyed Raven seemed to have urgent matters to discuss with him, but Viserys was in no hurry.

Bran then handed Viserys a branch, telling him that the Three-Eyed Raven would sense it when he took it beyond the Wall.

In the year 293 AC, after the chill of winter, humanity finally welcomed the dawn of a new spring, having endured a difficult and bitter cold.

The coronation of a new king required a very complex and cumbersome process. Although the Seven Kingdoms were not yet fully stable, and rebels from all sides still claimed they would attack King's Landing to kill Viserys and his wicked dragon, the people of King's Landing were not alarmed. For many of the older citizens, the Targaryen family had long been rooted in their hearts as the royal family of the Seven Kingdoms.

The rise and fall of dynasties were ever-changing, but the Baratheon family had only held the throne for about ten years, not enough to change the deeply ingrained perceptions of the people.

Thus, many of the people in King's Landing believed that Viserys was destined to rule, especially after hearing the stories of the Seven's anointing and the Son of the Sun. They were even more convinced that the usurper had betrayed his king, taken the throne illegitimately, and had been punished by the Seven or the Red God, who sent the White Walkers to eliminate the false king.

The appearance of the White Walkers broke the barriers of the Red God's influence in Westeros. War was the greatest change, and Melisandre's preaching spread rapidly through hundreds of thousands, even millions, of refugees from the North.

With Viserys defeating the White Walkers and saving the world, and the previous propaganda of the Red God's church proclaiming him the true king, the Son of the Sun, who would surely dispel darkness, wield the Lightbringer, and defeat the White Walkers, the number of people in King's Landing who believed in the Red God was not insignificant.

Viserys's coronation ceremony was not held in the Great Sept of Baelor but in the throne room of the Red Keep.

The square below the Red Keep was opened to the public, and a large number of people from King's Landing flooded in, making the Unsullied quite nervous as they strictly controlled the order of the square.

The throne room in the Red Keep was decorated very grandly. The dragon bones that had been stored in the cellar were brought out and placed on either side of the Iron Throne.

Vhagar's fearsome and enormous skull could easily be passed through even on horseback, and it looked down upon hundreds, even thousands, of well-dressed local nobles.

In addition to the nobles loyal to the Targaryens near the capital, the Riverlands' nobles had also arrived in King's Landing in recent days.

And next were two important ceremonies: the coronation and the king's wedding.

The Tully family of Riverrun had managed to survive, escaping disaster. Edmure Tully, the Earl, stood among the Riverlands' nobles, no longer the center of attention he once was.

Although the family had lost the title of Governor of the Three Rivers and the Duke of Riverrun, they had at least saved their lives. As long as people were alive, it was good. Edmure's surrender of the city had saved the lives of his entire clan.

Had they followed his father's stubbornness and clashed head-on with the Targaryens, he had no doubt that King Viserys would have set Riverrun ablaze, ending the Tully bloodline.

"Thanks to the gods," Edmure murmured, looking at the silver-haired youth on the Iron Throne, his expression slightly dazed.

He didn't even know if he should thank Lord Bracken for killing his father, indirectly saving the Tully family.

Next to the Iron Throne, the portly High Septon came forward, holding a crown adorned with a red gemstone, while the Red Priestess Melisandre stood quietly on the balcony of the throne room's second floor.

The crown was reforged from a Valyrian steel dagger by the master Tobho Mott of Pentos, and the red gemstone on it was offered by Melisandre.

She claimed it was a gift from the Lord of Light to King Viserys, but no one knew where she had found this magical gemstone.

Holding this red gemstone, one could feel a natural warmth flowing through the body, as if blessed by magical protection, dispelling cold and disease.

Viserys nodded in acceptance of Melisandre's gift.

The coronation ceremony was originally to be held in the Great Sept of Baelor, but King Viserys changed his mind, moving the ceremony to the throne room, having the High Septon come to the Iron Throne to crown him.

Some suspected that Melisandre, who had bewitched the king with her magic or her body, had led him to this wrong decision.

However, in reality, this was a great injustice to the Red Priestess; it was entirely Viserys's idea.

Religion and royal power were inherently conflicting. They rarely complemented each other, as the interpretation of doctrine lay within the Sept, essentially a question of whether the king or the gods were supreme.

Viserys had already dealt with this in Essos by introducing various religions, ensuring that no single, widespread religion could influence his rule.

Now that he was to ascend the Iron Throne, he had to consider some deeply rooted religious issues in Westeros.

The 'High Sparrow' who might emerge from the crowd in the future would surely be dealt with if discovered.

Of course, not all problems needed to be solved with swords; that was a last resort.

At this stage, he still hoped to gradually reduce the influence of religion on royal power through gentler means, like boiling a frog in slowly heated water.

The atmosphere in the throne room was solemn, dignified, and sacred. The High Septon's voice was low as he recited the vows, while Viserys sat on the Iron Throne, never rising.

Finally, the lengthy and cumbersome vows were recited, and the portly High Septon placed the Valyrian steel crown on Viserys's head.

Proclaiming him King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Prince of Andalos and Pentos, Master of Dragons, Viserys Targaryen the First.

With his dazzling resume, Viserys's titles grew longer and longer. He had trimmed some titles he didn't need for the coronation ceremony, such as the religiously charged 'Son of the Sun' and 'Anointed by the Seven.'

Even the connections between the previous dynasty and the Targaryen kings of old were omitted.

The Targaryen family's rule over Westeros began with Aegon the Conqueror and ended with his father, Aerys II, spanning seventeen kings and two hundred and eighty-three years.

Then the Targaryen kingdom was overthrown by usurpers, who stole ten years before the second prince,
who had fled to the eastern continent, worked hard to return and reclaim the Iron Throne, establishing a new nation encompassing Andalos and Pentos.

From the inside out, it was completely renewed.

Once, Viserys had complained that this was a useless coronation ceremony, but when it actually began, he was fully prepared and engaged.

The handsome young king sat on the Iron Throne, the sunlight from the windows above the throne room shining on him. He wore fitted black trousers, an exquisite black velvet robe, and a metallic dragon-head badge on his chest.

His silver-gold hair was soft, reflecting a gentle glow. The heavy crown pressed down on his hair as his clear, pale purple eyes looked down at his subjects.

Then he stood up, and all the bells in King's Landing rang out together, and the applause in the throne room was thunderous.

Chapter 474: The League of the Righteous

News of Viserys's second coronation in King's Landing, where he was titled Viserys Targaryen the First, swiftly spread across the southern lands of Westeros with the flight of ravens.

Some cheered and raised their cups to wish him a long life, while others cursed him, even wishing him to stumble and die.

In the Vale, led by Jon Royce, the Count of Runestone, a coalition was formed against the Iron Throne, calling themselves the 'League of the Righteous.'

The slogan of the League of the Righteous was to maintain the dignity of the nobles, the normal order of the state, and not allow Viserys to take away their sacred and inviolable rights.

A few months earlier, Count Jon Royce had led the knights of the Vale in a wide flanking maneuver to attack the Dothraki from behind at the Battle of Riverrun, only to suffer a defeat.

Balerion's dragonfire scorched both banks of Riverrun, creating a wildfire, and the Vale knights suffered heavy losses, retreating eastward.

Even old Jon himself narrowly escaped death on the battlefield. Balerion's dragonfire landed not far from him, reducing his warhorse to ashes. Thanks to his ancestral bronze armor, the old count escaped death and returned to the Vale under the protection of his guards.

However, Jon Royce, having escaped death and returned to the Vale, was not cowed by the surging dragonfire. Instead, he became even more determined to raise the banner of resistance against Viserys.

Perhaps it was their brief conversation at the Twins that strengthened his resolve to resist, or perhaps there were other reasons. He had seen the wounded appearance of a dragon and believed that dragons were not entirely invincible.

So he gathered Lady Anya Waynwood of Ironoaks, old Lord Eon of Longbow Hall, Lord Benedar Belmore of Strongsong, Ser Symond Templeton of Ninestars, and the heir to Redfort, Michel Redfort, among others.

Michel's father, Horton Redfort, had been captured alive after the Battle of Riverrun and was now imprisoned in King's Landing.

Michel Redfort was the youngest son of Lord Horton and squire to Ser Lyn Corbray. He should not have bypassed his brothers to become the heir to Redfort.

However, Jon Royce's daughter Ysilla, who bore some resemblance to him, took a fancy to the handsome and skilled young swordsman.

So, Count Royce forced Michel to marry his youngest daughter, and the two were wed in the shortest time. Simultaneously, the Royce family used their influence to help Michel defeat his brothers and secure the position of heir.

The League of the Righteous gathered troops to seal off the Vale, calling on more nobles to join the resistance, seeking fairness and justice, and refusing to allow the power of family rule to slip from their hands.

They refused to acknowledge that Viserys had ascended the Iron Throne, tearing up letters from King's Landing and denouncing Viserys as the true invader of the Seven Kingdoms.

They completely forgot who had helped them repel the White Walkers. Without Viserys, they might have become walking corpses by now.

The current Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, and Duke of the Eyrie, Robert Arryn, is merely an infant still nursing.

His mother, Lady Lysa Tully, is but a woman, and they, a widow and an orphan, naturally lack the strength to organize resistance against a tyrant. Moreover, her family has already bent the knee, and the Vale nobles fear that Lysa might also surrender to Viserys.

So the nobles of the 'League of the Righteous,' with a small guard, came to the Eyrie, and under the banner of 'justice,' took the unsuspecting city by surprise, opening the gates, and the army flooded in, taking complete control of this center of power in the Vale.

Little Lord Robert and his mother fell into the hands of the League of the Righteous, including the former Master of Coin of the Baratheon dynasty, Petyr Baelish, who was a guest in the Eyrie.

After his mission to Pentos and return, Petyr had received great praise from Queen Regent Cersei. After Jon Arryn's assassination, Cersei allowed him to escort the widowed Lady Arryn and her orphaned child back to the Eyrie from King's Landing.

Petyr then stayed in the Eyrie, comforting the young widow.

However, the unpredictable and inscrutable turn of events brought disaster from the sky, though the Vale's noble coalition did not overly trouble Littlefinger.

He resided in the Eyrie with relative freedom, attending some meetings and having a seat, as he was nominally a member of the Vale and the Baratheon dynasty's Master of Coin, considered one of their own.

Even if there were some whispered rumors about Littlefinger's unclear relationship with Lady Lysa, the affairs between nobles often had that flavor.

Now, many nobles in the League of the Righteous and beyond in the Vale were interested in the attractive widow, Lysa.

After all, whoever won Lysa's heart and married her could become the father of the Lord of the Vale, the actual controller of the Vale.

Thus, Lady Lysa Tully's situation in the Eyrie was very delicate and equally dangerous.

Compared to the changing winds in the Vale, where the weak ruled the strong, the situation was different elsewhere.

After Jon Arryn's death, the Vale was left without a successor, and the remaining Vale families could even band together to defecate on their lord's neck.

In the Westerlands, Tywin Lannister, who had escaped from the Battle of Riverrun, still firmly controlled the region.

After all, the dragon's fire had not yet reached Casterly Rock, but Tywin Lannister's 'Rains of Castamere' could ring at his doorstep at any time.

However, Tywin Lannister had not been idle during this time, nor had he resigned himself to waiting for death. Hearing of the events in Riverrun, he ordered all Westerlands vassals to send their families to Casterly Rock.

Lord Tywin claimed it was to better protect everyone's families, fully committing to the war.

But everyone knew the real reason, and yet no one dared to resist, obediently complying.

Tywin then began to frequently move the Westerlands' troops, setting up checkpoints at important junctions, building defensive lines, and establishing watchtowers along the coast to strengthen defenses, striving to make the Westerlands an iron bucket against Viserys's future attacks.

On the diplomatic front, Tywin actively sent envoys to contact the Vale's League of the Righteous, the Tyrell family in the Reach, and Renly in the Stormlands, hoping to form an alliance to jointly face the aggressive Viserys.

In the end, except for the unclear situation with Renly, the other two parties responded positively.

Chapter 475: Mind Control

On the borders of Dorne, it seemed that with the princess's betrothal drawing near, and Viserys's coronation ceremony now past, the wedding between him and the Princess of Dorne was the next event to unfold.

The fierce border skirmishes had dwindled into scattered conflicts. Dorne, in preparation for Arianne's wedding, had temporarily halted its assault on the North, retreating once more. The Riverlands and Stormlands, too, breathed a sigh of relief.

Facing the savage and resilient enemy to the south, Dorne might not be wealthy, but history often required the Stormlands and Riverlands to join hands to halt this mad dog's biting.

Westeros, mired in prolonged chaos, had finally entered a brief period of peace, and now the entire world held its breath.

They awaited the newly crowned Viserys I's next move, uncertain of the direction he would lead the troubled Westeros.

In King's Landing, Viserys, the focus of countless eyes in this era, had a strange dream the night after Bran had placed the branch sent by the Three-Eyed Raven in the Red Keep.

He dreamed of the world as it once was, saw familiar kin, but strangely, he remained lucid within the dream.

When he looked into a mirror out of curiosity, he saw a face all too familiar.

Viserys awoke.

But when he opened his eyes, he was still in his familiar room, with its high ceiling, soft feather bed, and a beautiful woman, belly swollen with his child, lying quietly beside him.

Viserys's emotions were complex. He sighed, then gently kissed Arianne and left the bedside.

The time had come. As his gaze fell on the silvered bronze mirror in the king's chamber, black mist began to churn.

Viserys raised his mental strength to thirty. According to his previous experience, each new stage of his attributes would awaken a new ability.

Thus, Viserys prioritized enhancing his mental strength. When the black fog converged into a raging river, the silver-haired youth felt as if his head had been pricked by countless needles.

Then his whole body turned icy cold, as if he were in a frozen land, and the world before him suddenly became much clearer. Transparent purple flames ignited in his pale violet eyes.

"This ability is..."

Feeling the power in his eyes, Viserys's expression faltered.

"Viserys!"

At that moment, a woman's cry came from behind him.

Viserys turned his head slightly, and the Princess of Dorne's face froze. Her beautiful eyes showed a hint of purple, but it was not very noticeable.

"Mind control?"

Viserys's eyes revealed disbelief as his mental strength easily controlled Arianne's mind through his eyes.

This ability was extraordinary, and its terrifying potential was clear.

In this game of thrones, what ability could be more straightforward and brutal than directly controlling an opponent's mind?

When Tywin, the Rose of Highgarden, the Order of the Keepers, the Baratheon brothers, and others were still playing a game of power, Viserys had already begun to play in a 'magical world.' What was the end of science? The two sides were not even on the same level.

"Is this really..."

Then the purple flames in Viserys's eyes extinguished, returning to their magnificent, deep sapphire-like appearance.

Arianne, half-sitting on the feather bed, her body bare, looked puzzled.

"Eh?"

She seemed to have just woken up and seen something, but when she opened her mouth to call her betrothed, she forgot what she was going to say.

"What was I going to say?"

The Princess of Dorne rubbed her glossy black hair, puzzled. This had never happened to her before. How could she forget what she was going to say? Was it the old saying, "pregnancy makes you dumb," coming true early for her?

"I..."

Arianne opened her mouth but still couldn't remember anything. She looked at Viserys, who was standing in front of the mirror, looking back at her, as if she had just called his name. Finally, she could only say, deflated,

"It's nothing, my love."

"I forgot what I wanted to say."

Viserys had just controlled the mental power in his eyes to erase the scene where Arianne saw his eyes aflame.

So a part of her memory was missing, and she was left with words on the tip of her tongue but no idea what to say.

"People forget many things every day."

Viserys looked at his betrothed, seeing that she truly couldn't remember anything, and shook his head slightly.

Erasing such a small piece of memory would have no impact on Arianne's normal life.

But if Viserys wanted to modify someone's memory on a large scale, it would create a strong sense of disconnection, and he might need to rest for a while as the caster.

"Our wedding is about to begin."

Viserys then sat back down beside the bed, taking his fiancée's hand.

"Mmm."

Arianne's cheeks flushed with genuine emotion. After all, marriage is of utmost importance to every girl.

With domestic matters settled, it was time for state affairs.

Tyrion, recommended by Renly and approved by Viserys, had become the king's personal advisor, a sort of wise counselor.

Although he had no real power, his closeness to the king made him an object of flattery for many.

Tyrion conveyed his sister Cersei's request for an audience to Viserys.

"Your Grace, my sister..."

Tyrion, buried in a sea of documents, looked up and began.

This was the third time Cersei had requested to see Viserys in this period. The first two times, she had sent guards to apply, but Viserys had refused both times.

He wanted to deal with Cersei, Joffrey, and Myrcella after the public trial.

So this time, Cersei had no choice but to ask her brother Tyrion to convey the message.

Fortunately, Cersei had not yet formed an irreconcilable enmity with Tyrion, and had even shed a few tears for Tyrion's 'death.'

"Cersei?"

Viserys thought for a moment and then shook his head.

"Let her stay in the Red Keep for now, and assure her that the trial of the Lannister family has nothing to do with her and her children."

"If she has nothing to do in the Red Keep, she can do some servant's work, assist here and there, but leaving is out of the question."

Cersei and her children's status were still highly unique.

Viserys could spare their lives, not kill them, but as the former queen and prince and princess, they could never leave Viserys's sight.

Otherwise, they would easily fall into the hands of those with ulterior motives, suffer an even more tragic fate, and cause trouble for Viserys.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Tyrion, hearing Viserys's words, could only nod helplessly, shrug his shoulders, and express his inability to help his sister.

Chapter 476: Jaime Lannister

Since the bloodless fall of King's Landing, Jaime Lannister sought an opportunity to leave the city.

However, he did not return to Casterly Rock as others expected, but instead prepared to journey to the eastern continent.

Heartbroken after the betrayal by his sister and brother, and knowing well the difficulty of waging war against dragons as a military commander, Jaime had lost faith. He did not believe his father could hold Casterly Rock, so he decided to leave Westeros entirely and wander the vast world.

But Blackwater Bay was blockaded by the Targaryen fleet, and the gold cloaks were searching for him everywhere. A high bounty was placed on Jaime, so after leaving King's Landing, he headed south, seeking another port to set sail.

He disguised himself, assuming a false name, and successfully boarded a merchant ship bound for the unknown lands of Essos.

Tyrion had originally wanted to capture his older brother and send him to the east, but a misunderstanding between the two brothers ironically led to this result. Jaime finally embarked for the east.

The fleet floated on the sea for a long time. At first, Jaime diligently kept track of each day, harboring beautiful dreams for the future.

But with the prolonged and tedious months at sea, accompanied by occasional harsh weather, the once-handsome and dashing golden-haired knight became disheveled.

Without disguise, no one could recognize the infamous 'Kingslayer,' Ser Jaime Lannister.

During a storm, the fleet was battered by the raging waves. Jaime, braving the rain, was struck down by a massive wave and fainted after hitting his head on a water-filled barrel. Thankfully, the dark-skinned captain from Braavos saved him in time.

Otherwise, no one would believe that the 'Kingslayer' had died so quietly at sea.

After a long, weary voyage, the fleet finally reached its destination.

Woo—

From afar, the majestic Titan of Braavos roared, a sound heard every time a ship passed, warning the hidden city behind the Titan.

"This is the Titan of Braavos!" declared the proud dark-skinned captain from Braavos, facing the awestruck foreigners. "'Long-Leg' Lomas's one of the nine man-made wonders! The gods made seven wonders, but men made nine! But to me, the Titan is the first among them. The other wonders may stink like rotten fish, but..."

The dark-skinned captain from Braavos boasted, but noticed that his crew from Braavos was also agape, displaying an incredulous look. They had seen the Titan many times before.

"Hey, what's wrong with you lads? Did I say something wrong?" he scratched his head, only to see one of the crew pointing behind him.

"What?"

The captain turned, and as the ship floated quietly towards the Titan, he saw the majestic figure still standing tall, sword raised.

But its head was missing.

"Where's the head?"

"By the gods, where is the Titan's head?!"

The dark-skinned captain clutched his head, unable to believe his eyes. He hadn't received news of what had happened in Braavos.

"Phew~"

In the crowd, Jaime overheard the captain and crew's conversation and breathed a sigh of relief.

He had just looked at the headless Titan and thought that the legendary figure had no head. It appeared rather terrifying.

He then turned to look behind him, across the endless sea. That's where he came from, where things had happened that he would never forget.

Cersei, Tyrion, Father, Casterly Rock.

Now, the once tall and handsome, golden-haired 'Kingslayer' Ser Jaime Lannister, looked greasy and grey-haired, his handsome face covered in stubble. Only his bright, sharp eyes remained, his smile as cutting as a blade.

The fleet orderly passed the Titan and the ruins of the armory, reaching the Ragman's Harbor for inspection by the Braavosi customs officials. This process often took half a day.

Those like Jaime Lannister who had paid for passage were not crew and were free to disembark after inspection.

"I owe you my life."

"I'll repay it someday."

Dressed in tattered clothing and wearing a ragged cloak and hood, Jaime approached the dark-skinned captain, speaking solemnly.

But the captain, still immersed in his grief over the Titan's head, did not respond. Jaime walked past him without a backward glance, stepping off the ship.

Jaime thought that he had safely escaped the perilous King's Landing, and in his current state, even if he returned, no one would recognize him. In Braavos, there should be no danger.

However, he didn't expect that just after stepping off the ship, someone blocked his way.

"A man called the 'Kingslayer,' Jaime Lannister."

The disheveled and unkempt
golden-haired knight suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Chapter 477: Joining the Faceless Men

The man before Jaime's eyes had a handsome face, with hair of red and white intermingled, his eyes fixed intently on the former knight.

Jaime, recognizing the warrior's instincts in the other's stance, felt a sudden warning flare within him.

The man simply stood, but emanated an aura of unity, like an impenetrable hedgehog.

"This man is formidable."

Jaime's inner alarm soared, and his hand even reached for the dagger hidden beneath his coarse clothing.

Yet on the surface, he appeared calm. After a month adrift at sea, Jaime had said a perfect farewell to the proud youth within him, recognizing his true self, becoming more practical and composed.

"Who are you?"

The disheveled golden-haired knight asked coolly, shaking his head to deny the other's recognition.

"You've mistaken me for someone else. I do indeed hail from Westeros, from Oldtown, and I have heard of the 'Kingslayer,' but I am not he."

The handsome man with red and white hair only shrugged slightly, soothing Jaime's sudden tension.

"A man need not be tense."

Glancing at Jaime's hand on his waist, where he knew a dagger was concealed, his subtle gaze made Jaime more nervous because the stranger had noticed his small movement.

"Some man is but a nobody, and means no harm in seeking you. Otherwise, you would be lying down by now."

"As for whether you are the 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister."

The man shrugged again, speaking cryptically.

"Some man believes you know in your heart."

Jaime, hearing these words, took a deep breath. He knew the man had identified him, and further concealment was pointless and troublesome.

But the stranger's arrogant yet self-assured tone irked him.

A young knight, the youngest member of the legendary Kingsguard in the Seven Kingdoms, with swordsmanship rivaled by few, Jaime's ambition to become the next Arthur Dayne had turned him into the Smiling Knight.

Jaime finally ceased to hide, his eyes sweeping the surroundings, followed by a faint smirk.

"A nobody?"

"I don't know who you are, but if it's just you, what harm can you do to me?"

Though ragged and greasy-haired, Jaime's expression was proud, almost regaining some of his former bearing, as he boldly spoke.

"Speak up. Since I've fallen into your hands and been discovered, I can't escape."

"What do you want? To sell me to that boy in King's Landing for a mere thousand gold dragons?"

"You'd be better off selling me to my father; he might pay ten times that price for my life."

Jaime no longer disguised his identity, admitting he was the 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister, but his seemingly arrogant words were tinged with caution, probing the 'nobody' for information.

Was he alone, or were there others? What was their stance and purpose? Was Braavos their turf, or were they foreigners like himself, who happened to recognize him at the docks?

What did they intend to do with him? Kill him? Exact revenge? Though Jaime had not intentionally offended anyone, his haughty demeanor wouldn't have won many friends.

Or were they planning to kidnap him and sell him to the 'boy' (Viserys), whom Jaime had once escorted from the Red Keep?

If these people were truly motivated by money, Jaime suggested they sell him to his father.

Jaime didn't want to die, and he knew his father had plenty of money. He believed Tywin would pay ten times the price to buy his life from these bandits.

To Jaime's disappointment, all his guesses were wrong.

The stranger, indeed alone without any accomplices, harbored no animosity towards Jaime, nor any intention to kidnap him for Viserys or Tywin. He wasn't after money either.

"Some man is now named Jaqen H'ghar. You may call me Jaqen."

Jaqen H'ghar looked at Jaime, impatiently breaking his Lorathi speech pattern.

"Some man sees great talent in you, 'Kingslayer.' Only one question: do you wish to return?"

Jaime paused, then shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

"Some man has no special meaning," Jaqen said calmly, unfazed by Jaime's threatening eyes.

"The Many-Faced God is a debtor, and only life can pay for death. Some man comes from an organization that might help you."

No one on the docks paid them any mind, perhaps because Jaqen was naturally inconspicuous. His conversation with a tall 'beggar' attracted no attention.

When Jaime learned Jaqen's true identity, his eyes widened. After reflecting on his lack of standing in Braavos, he nodded.

"Very well."

"I agree to join."

"Don't be hasty, 'Kingslayer.' Whether you can join requires an assessment."

Jaqen spoke calmly.

"Succeed, and become 'no one.' Fail, and become 'no one' all the same."

"From then on, the world will have no name for you."

Jaime understood the words of the Faceless Man and clenched his fists. Success meant joining the Faceless Men; failure meant death.

Yet, the proud knight believed that with his swordsmanship, he could pass any test and return to Cersei's side, perhaps even kill the boy.

The two walked towards the harbor. Jaime glimpsed a wanted poster on the wall, a face he recognized as Jaqen's.

He turned, but Jaqen was gone, replaced by a hawk-nosed man with a scar on his face.

"What are you dawdling for?"

"Hurry up!"

Chapter 478: The Great Sept of Baelor

"The wedding will be held in the main hall of the Great Sept of Baelor, which can accommodate around seven hundred distinguished guests."

"Thus we must limit the number of attendees, Your Grace."

"But the wedding will surely involve more than seven hundred people, the rest must wait outside the main hall."

"These others are not without purpose; their presence serves to remind those seven hundred with envious eyes how glorious their noble seats are."

A court steward, dressed in a finely crafted black leather short robe, was chattering incessantly to Viserys.

And Viserys, wearing a soft casual outfit, his face clean-shaven, his silver-gold hair flowing freely, seemed to only half-listen to the court steward, merely nodding and responding with indifference.

"Hmm."

"Alright."

"That's fine."

"You handle it."

Meanwhile, he was surveying the grand religious center of the Seven Kingdoms.

A magnificent domed structure of marble, with seven crystal towers standing tall, each with a giant bell that would only ring on significant occasions, such as royal weddings or funerals.

The Great Sept of Baelor, also known as Baelor's Sept or the Holy Sept of Baelor, was constructed by the ninth Targaryen to ascend the Iron Throne, Baelor Targaryen I.

Baelor Targaryen I, also known as 'Saint Baelor' or 'Baelor the Blessed,' established the Sept atop Visenya's Hill in King's Landing, replacing the Starry Sept of Oldtown as the heart of the Faith of the Seven in Westeros, laying the foundation for the supremacy of royal power over divine.

Because of the King's visit, the Great Sept had been emptied of all people a day in advance.

Even the monks residing here were forbidden to step out of their rooms, and on the day of the wedding, all would be driven out to prevent any possible mishaps.

Now they could only peek curiously from their rooms, eager to glimpse the renowned young Dragon King who had established a new kingdom and been crowned King.

*Clatter Clatter*

The whole Sept was silent except for the clear echoes of the footsteps of three individuals. A female knight, her hand on her sword's hilt, followed her King, equally observant of their surroundings.

She did not believe in the Seven. Strictly speaking, she had no faith except in Viserys.

He was the most radiant light in her life, sweeping across a bleak sky, utterly changing the fate of a Valyrian orphan. Mia's gaze fell back on Viserys, hiding a faint admiration before lowering her head.

Then they passed through the long Hall of Lamps in the Sept, with many colored glass orbs hanging from the ceiling. Passing through two doors, they finally arrived at the main hall.

Here, the grand altar of the Seven stood beneath a vaulted ceiling of glass, gold, and crystal, the floor of marble, and the large window frames filled with stained glass.

"Your Grace will enter through the main door, hand in hand with the Queen, and walk up the red carpet to make vows between the gilded statues of the Father and Mother," the middle-aged court steward, still prattling on, began to explain.

"The vows are as follows..."

"This place is quite good," Viserys interjected, finally taking in the appearance of the Great Sept's main hall, finding it in line with his expectations for the wedding venue.

The court steward, caught off-guard by the interruption, could only take in the grand surroundings, take a deep breath, and agree with Viserys' casual remark, nodding.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"It is indeed quite good."

How could the place for royal weddings and funerals be anything but magnificent? And Viserys had been touring the Great Sept as if he were a visitor, immersed in it all.

"Hmm?"

Only then did he notice the subtle change in the steward's tone, realizing that his attitude might have been a bit impolite.

"I apologize, Wes. I was a bit distracted."

"But rest assured," Viserys tapped his temple, "I have a good memory. I can remember everything you've just said after hearing it only once."

Although he did not know how the world described him, some claimed that the young King was arrogant, his noble Targaryen bloodline looking down upon the common folk.

Others disagreed, saying Viserys was quite humble.

He treated nobles and commoners equally, and sometimes even showed contempt for the nobility while being kind and humble to the common people.

But Viserys' sudden earnest apology startled the court steward named Wes, who had only served one other king, King Robert Baratheon, and his Queen Cersei, who had never been gracious to him, much less apologized for any perceived slight.

"Your Grace," the startled steward began, ready to insist that he had taken no offense.

"Your Grace!"

At that moment, the portly High Septon arrived from afar, relieving the anxious court steward.

He emerged from behind the seven-pointed star made of colored glass in the Great Sept's main hall, his fat body laboring down the stairs, puffing slightly as he approached Viserys, bowing and greeting him.

"Your Grace."

Then the High Septon nodded to the female knight and court steward in turn.

"Ser."

"Master Wes."

The female Kingsguard and court steward also nodded in response.

"High Septon."

"I am but a servant of the Gods, without lands or titles, unworthy of being called 'High,' Ser," the fat High Septon explained, his chubby face quivering with a polite smile.

"I apologize," the female knight responded, her hand touching her sword hilt as she bowed her head in apology. She was indeed unfamiliar with Westerosi culture, assuming that all personages should be addressed as 'My Lord.'

The plump High Septon merely chuckled and then turned to Viserys, speaking sincerely.

"Your Grace."

"The crypts of the Great Sept house the tombs of past kings, including your father. Would you like to pay your respects?"

The silver-haired youth was taken aback by the word 'father.' Aerys? In truth, he had never regarded him as such, so much so that he had not paid his respects since arriving in King's Landing.

After some contemplation, Viserys nodded.

"Yes."

Chapter 479: Alms at the Sept

Viserys next toured the royal tombs beneath the Great Sept of Baelor, where the Targaryen kings, queens, princes, and princesses of generations past were buried.

'The Light of the Realm' Rhaenys Targaryen I.

'Dragonbane' Aegon Targaryen III.

'The Inept King' Aegon Targaryen IV.

'The Wise King' Daeron Targaryen II.

Finally, Viserys' steps brought him to the sarcophagus of his nominal or rather merely physical father, the last king of the Targaryen dynasty, the 'Mad King' Aerys Targaryen II.

"I've heard my father's favorite pastime was watching men burn," he mused.

"Watching their skin char and blister, melt and fall from the bone, he could burn disloyal vassals, burn disobedient ministers, anyone who defied him was burnt."

Viserys' voice echoed in the empty crypt of the Sept, sending chills down the spine of the female knight who heard his words. The court steward and the portly High Septon remained silent, not daring to reply.

"Fear not, what's right is right, what's wrong is wrong."

"My elder brother often called him the 'Mad King.'"

Though Viserys came to see Aerys II's sarcophagus, he didn't linger long at his 'father's' tomb. Instead, he paused for quite some time at his brother Rhaegar's grave, eventually taking with him a book that had been buried with him.

The crypts of the Great Sept, being the burial place of many kings, were filled with valuable robes, rings, crystal crowns, and other church properties.

Viserys looked all around but said little. Once back on the surface, he casually remarked that the church seemed richer than the royal treasury, causing the portly High Septon to break into a sweat.

This was a man adored by the common folk but feared by the nobility. Many noble houses had been destroyed since the Targaryen army landed in Westeros. He was truly a killer, not caring for rules or the Faith of the Seven. If he could root out the nobility, what would he dare not do?

The common believers were unaware, but the change of his coronation venue from the Great Sept to the Red Keep spoke volumes of Viserys' lack of tolerance towards the church.

No one dared oppose the King's decision, and any opposition was quickly silenced. The political struggles at court were full of danger, and the High Septon, having attended Robert's small council meetings, knew he must tread carefully if he was to leave King's Landing unscathed.

"Because of the invasion of the White Walkers, 'Your Holiness', many refugees from the North have flooded south of the Neck, impacting the lives of the original inhabitants. White Harbor is still under repair, and they cannot return home."

Viserys shook his head as he walked, voicing his concern.

"King's Landing has too many refugees now."

The situation in the Seven Kingdoms was worse than imagined.

The collapse of the Wall and the invasion of the White Walkers had exacerbated the chaos. Countless refugees were driven south to escape the undead, arriving in the capital.

Now the White Walkers were defeated, but the Neck's causeway was not yet repaired, and the war in the Riverlands had just ended. What could the refugees do? Where could they go?

Many flooded into the cities, with King's Landing being one of their targets. Those who found work were fine, but those without resorted to theft and robbery.

That morning, the commander of the city's defenses had reported to Viserys an increase in crime, growing more extreme.

Tyrion, now an advisor to the king, had also warned Viserys, jesting that the queues at the brothels were growing, indicating a population surge in King's Landing.

Viserys heeded Tyrion's warning, reviewing the city's recent records, which showed that the population had nearly doubled this year.

The staggering number, mostly homeless and impoverished, was the reason for Viserys' sudden visit to the Great Sept.

Was he really there to rehearse his wedding amidst the nation's turmoil? No, Viserys had come to 'beg,' having heard that the church was wealthy.

The portly High Septon 'understood' Viserys' intentions and promptly agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Bathed in the Father's light, the church would naturally become the last refuge for the poor.

The church would provide sufficient funds to help the capital through this hard winter and another difficult spring.

"May the gods bless us with better sunlight tomorrow."

With the King's solitary tour of the Great Sept, the church opened its coffers.

They announced the purchase of two hundred thousand bushels of wheat, a hundred thousand each of barley, oats, and rye, four thousand cattle, and ten thousand sheep to help King's Landing's poor through this trying time.

The story quickly spread throughout the city.

The image of the wise and valiant King was further affirmed, while the church, having been hit in the pocket, became a negative figure.

Many who believed in the Seven were aware that the church was wealthy, but not this wealthy.

What paupers' assembly? Call it a rich man's assembly!

The portly High Septon, so fat he could barely walk, this was a figure gained from sharing hardship and eating meager meals with the faithful? The archseptons and septons of the Faith of the Seven were all dripping with wealth.

The poor's last faith collapsed, turning love into hate. The outnumbered followers of the Red God in King's Landing seized the opportunity to stir trouble, resulting in a small-scale demonstration.

But since the church had genuinely spent money, and people's hands were tied by favors and their mouths by food, combined with the Unsullied and the Gold Cloaks maintaining order, the storm was eventually quelled.

The church was properly chastised, and King's Landing's pressing problem was resolved.

In King's Landing, the final minor turbulence on the eve of the royal wedding ended, and the wedding ceremony officially began the next day.

Chapter 480: Sansa

There were many in attendance for the wedding, even more than those present for Viserys' coronation.

The Great Sept of Baelor atop Visenya's Hill was more familiar to the common folk than the Red Keep on Aegon's High Hill.

Viserys' recent surge in popularity only heightened the anticipation for the wedding.

Now, throngs of people gathered on the marble steps outside the Great Sept, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the newly crowned king.

The gates of the Red Keep opened wide, revealing the Unsullied escorting the noble guests.

Viserys still rode his snow-white steed, clad in a robe of black and gold, a cloak billowing behind him, and a sword at his side. The beautiful Princess of Dorne remained unseen within the royal carriage.

"Step back!"

"Step back!"

"Everyone! Do not rush the procession!"

In the bright sunshine, the procession made its way through King's Landing, flanked by gold-cloaked city guards.

The Unsullied, in their black-scaled armor, stood ready with round shields and long spears. Their disciplined formation was a sight to behold, making many spies lurking in the shadows feel uneasy about the future.

The Targaryen forces, veterans of many battles, exuded an intimidating aura that couldn't be masked.

"Your Grace!"

"Your Grace! Look at me!"

"King Viserys!"

"Long live House Targaryen!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd. A courtesan on a balcony teasingly bared a breast in Viserys' direction, while the people raised their hands high as his gaze passed over them. For the people of King's Landing, House Targaryen was a deeply rooted concept of royalty.

It was ironic. Though the Mad King was betrayed by half the realm's nobles, his reputation among commoners remained largely unaffected. The people believed he only burned those nobles who deserved it. Yet, when King Robert, who had overthrown the Mad King in the name of justice, took the throne, he easily depleted the royal treasury. He owed the Lannisters, Tyrells, the Faith, the Iron Bank, and merchants of Tyrosh millions of gold dragons. The nation was in debt, riddled with issues, and the people suffered.

The subsequent wars with the Wildlings and White Walkers only worsened the situation. Thus, when Viserys arrived in King's Landing, he easily gained the people's support.

Amidst the cheers and falling flowers, the long procession finally reached the Great Sept.

Viserys dismounted, and the ornate carriage bearing the bride came to a stop. Chivalrously, he opened the carriage door and gently took the hand of the Dornish Princess, helping her descend.

Thunderous applause erupted, but Viserys did not linger. Guarded closely by the Unsullied, he led the princess up the steps and into the Great Sept.

The major Westerosi lords who had come from the Red Keep quickly dismounted and entered from a side door.

The wedding ceremony inside was reserved for the nobility, but the commoners outside remained, their voices a constant buzz.

Among the crowd stood an old man in a tawny robe, his unkempt white hair contrasting with the deep wrinkles on his face. He watched Viserys intently, particularly noting the fleeting glimpse of the curvaceous Dornish Princess, shielded by the Unsullied.

Inside the Great Sept, Viserys and Arianne stood in the Hall of Lamps, a long corridor leading to the main hall, its ceiling adorned with colorful stained glass that shimmered in the sun.

"It's beautiful here," Arianne, her eyes twinkling, whispered.

Viserys simply smiled in response, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Arianne, a Dornishwoman, had a wild streak. Even pregnant, she had indulged her soon-to-be husband the previous night, with some help from her friends. Dornish women were known for their fiery nature, perhaps due to their spicy cuisine.

Arianne was no exception. She once idolized the legendary warrior woman of the Rhoynar, Nymeria, and had ambitions to vie for Dorne's rule against her brother, Prince Quentyn Martell. But now, she was entirely devoted to Viserys, captivated by his unique allure.

Soon, the High Septon's voice echoed from the main hall.

"Your Grace," a servant from the Red Keep approached to inform them it was time.

Behind them, a nervous red-haired girl clutched Arianne's long dress. Sansa Stark's face was flushed with anxiety, her mother's words echoing in her mind:

"Sansa, you must be perfect as the flower girl. Do not make any mistakes and try to win the favor of the king and queen."

Chapter 481: The Wedding

Before leaving, Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell took great pains to instruct her eldest daughter Sansa, emphasizing the importance of Viserys' wedding.

Having learned of a public trial through her husband's and father's old connections, she saw a glimmer of hope for her husband's life. Catelyn used every available means, ran around to various contacts, hoping to send a message to Viserys that might spare her husband's life, whether it meant taking the black or imprisonment.

However, the surprise was far greater when Viserys himself, through the Master of the Court, approached the wolf-girl Sansa Stark, asking if she would like to be the flower girl at the wedding.

Upon hearing this, Catelyn clung to the news like a desperate drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood, seizing this last hope with all her might.

Thus, Lady Stark personally took charge, running around planning the wedding's ceremony, ensuring her daughter Sansa would make no mistakes, hoping to win the favor of the king and queen.

Of course, Catelyn's notion of 'favor' had nothing to do with romantic affection, as Sansa was too young, even younger than the young princess Daenerys.

But among the Seven Kingdoms' nobility, it was customary to take on foster children or squires, and Catelyn's husband Ned had once been a ward of Jon Arryn, the Warden of the Vale.

If Sansa could become a lady-in-waiting to the queen, or Robb a squire to the king, it would be worth it to secure her husband's freedom.

This practice among nobility, though akin to holding hostages, was also a win-win means of emotional bonding.

For instance, Tywin once wished to send his son Jaime to King's Landing as a squire to Prince Rhaegar, and Tywin's wife Joanna had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Rhaella, Viserys' mother.

"Sansa, your father's life depends on your performance this time," Lady Stark tearfully embraced her daughter, imploring her to perform well.

Catelyn was undoubtedly a good mother, but love confounded her reason. She couldn't accept her husband being beheaded or hanged, unaware of the immense pressure her words placed on her daughter Sansa.

The red-haired beauty followed the king and bride with her mind blank and cheeks flushed, struggling forward like a wooden figure.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

The wedding was crowded, the Baelor's Great Sept filled with murmuring like a sea, falling into silence as Viserys emerged.

Noble guests wore their family crests, standing at the front on either side of the red carpet.

For known reasons, Viserys and Arianne's parents could not attend, so Viserys invited Maester Aemon as an elder representative, while Arianne's uncle, Prince Oberyn, was to represent the bride's family but had already left the capital with his army.

But the bride's family was still present.

"Hey, sister," a clean-faced black-haired boy called softly from the edge of the red carpet, making a face, and was sharply glanced at by Arianne.

Arianne had left Dorne for a year or two, transforming from aspiring to be a great queen of Dorne to a virtuous queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Quentyn had no idea his sister once wanted to compete with him for the inheritance of Dorne.

Without conflict of interest, there was no discord, so they were still close as siblings.

Now, Egon and Quentyn, two boys, stood on either side of the red carpet, holding petals, and as Viserys and Arianne passed, they threw the petals into the air.

Viserys took Arianne's hand, climbing the steps to the statues of the Father and Mother, as the fat High Septon, with a huge crystal crown, read the solemn vows.

Westerosi wedding ceremonies were elaborate and lengthy, with the couple making seven oaths, receiving seven blessings, and exchanging seven promises.

In the end, the High Septon asked if anyone questioned this holy matrimony, but the hall was silent, a custom of Westerosi weddings.

Finally, the fat High Septon announced under the gaze of the gods and the witness of the lords that King Viserys Targaryen and Princess Arianne Martell of Dorne were officially wed.

Thunderous applause erupted below, and the bells of the Great Sept rang again over King's Landing, the second time in a month, and the people outside cheered.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

The ceremony ended, and Viserys stood with his queen under the statues of the Father and Mother, receiving blessings and gifts from numerous nobles.

A banquet awaited him that night, but he canceled the bedding ceremony, ordering anyone who dared to disturb it to be cut down by Mira.

The overall wedding ended, but outside the Sept, a white-haired old man who had just watched Viserys and Arianne was now in an inconspicuous corner, surrounded by ragged men and women, their faces filled with righteous indignation.

"Unwed and pregnant!"

"The queen lost her maidenhood before the wedding! She cannot receive the Mother's blessing!"

Chapter 482: Dornish Army

In the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, a grand celebration was underway for the King's wedding. The merriment was boundless, and for a fleeting moment, people seemed to forget the war, savoring the precious moments of peace.

Elsewhere in Westeros, although large-scale warfare had come to an end, the three river regions and the capital, surrounded by the territories of the Westernlands, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands, were at peace, quietly recovering.

Yet the large battles had ceased, small skirmishes had not.

"Cavalry's returned!"

"Cavalry's returned!"

Shouts from the guards echoed through the encampment, followed by the heavy wooden gates creaking open to admit a troop of light-armored cavalry, their cloaks the color of desert sand.

"Whew—"

"Whew—"

The leading knight, stained with blood, bore a crest of red and black with a golden hand— the sigil of House Allyrion of Godsgrace in Dorne.

The knight removed his helm, revealing a face weathered by hardship. Dismounting, he handed his helmet and reins to a squire.

"Father."

Another Dornish knight, younger and clad in armor, dismounted and followed, his youthful face now revealed.

"Damon."

The middle-aged knight glanced at his bastard son, who was unwisely following him, his brow slightly furrowing.

"I must see Lord Yronwood. Do not follow."

He then noticed his beloved warhorse, stained with blood, and continued.

This steed was his cherished possession, as pure as unblemished silk. He couldn't bear to see it muddied and foul.

"It seems my warhorse is dirty. You clean him."

The middle-aged man's armor clanked as he strode away, ignoring his bastard son, who stood dumbfounded.

Though the status of bastards had slightly improved in Dorne, they still had little social standing.

And taking one's bastard to meet one's powerful father-in-law? Sir Roger Allyrion of Godsgrace would have to be out of his mind to do such a thing.

Since Viserys repelled the Others and war broke out at the Twins, Dorne had been mobilizing troops.

Though caught off guard by the news of the Others' swift defeat, they still cooperated with the Targaryen forces.

The Dornish army besieged the lands, restraining House Baratheon and House Tyrell, preventing them from supporting King Robert and repelling the Targaryens.

Now, the commander of the Dornish forces was none other than Anders Yronwood, the Bloodroyal and Warden of the Stone Way, one of the most powerful families in Dorne, Prince Doran's right hand.

He had once been dispatched by Prince Doran to lead a Dornish force to the Wall to fight the wildlings and the Others.

However, in facing the Others, Lord Yronwood lost a foot and became a cripple. Though saved by his soldiers, his wounds festered, and his left leg was amputated to save his life.

After that war, Anders Yronwood led the battered Dornish forces back home, not participating in the battles of Winterfell or Blackwater Bay.

Finally, after a long journey from the north of Westeros to the southernmost tip, the Dornish army returned home, bringing the true news of the Others to Prince Doran.

Anders told Prince Doran of the terrible demons at the world's end, carrying death and cold, intent on destroying the world.

If no one could stop them, world's end might be at hand.

Prince Doran was initially skeptical, asking his confidant what the Others looked like. However, Anders told him they were not of legend but real. If the Prince wanted to know their appearance, speed, or strength, Anders could only point to his lost left leg and the surviving Dornish soldiers, some mad, some suicidal, and tell Prince Doran they looked like 'death' itself.

Now, in the silent command tent of the Dornish army, Anders Yronwood sat quietly, studying the sand table and the strategic situation.

"Father."

Roger Allyrion then entered, lifting the curtain. Roger's father-in-law was this one-footed 'Warden of the Stone Way,' Anders Yronwood, the present commander of the Dornish army.

Roger had married Anders's daughter, Ynys Yronwood, and they had two sons.

"Hmm, you're back."

Anders did not even look up, his bright eyes fixed on the sand table, seemingly seeking a way to break through the obstacles.

Though the Dornish forces were fierce, the attack was not going smoothly.

Upon leaving Prince's Pass, they faced resistance at Nightsong Castle. The borderlands were prepared for Dorne's assault, given their sensitive history.

Nightsong's lord, Bryce Caron, summoned many nobles to aid in defense, with support from Houses Tyrell and Baratheon.

The main forces engaged in a protracted struggle, and Dorne's cavalry was sent to harass and cut off the Stormlands and Riverlands' reinforcements, even raiding and burning villages in the fertile Riverlands.

This enraged the Rose of Highgarden, and Lord Mace Tyrell sent his uncle, Ser Moryn Tyrell, commander of Oldtown's garrison, to help.

But then good news arrived.

"We repelled the Tyrell reinforcements, Father," said Roger Allyrion. They had ambushed the Tyrells on their path and temporarily defeated them.

"And we have an unexpected prize. We've captured this little plump fellow."

Sir Allyrion clapped his hands, and a trembling plump boy with the sigil of a striding huntsman on a green field was pushed in.

Lord Yronwood's gaze instantly fell on the crest, and he calmly asked,

"Young man, introduce yourself."

Chapter 483: The Battle of Nightsong

The Tyrell reinforcements were repelled, and the current Lord of Horn Hill, Samwell Tarly, was captured in battle, imprisoned in the Dornish camp.

Ever since the battle of Riverrun, when the former Lord of Horn Hill, Randyll Tarly, vanished without a trace, Samwell Tarly, the eldest son, became the new Lord with his mother's support.

Dorne demanded the Tarly army's withdrawal, threatening to chop off their Lord's head with a single stroke. The Tarly forces had no choice but to retreat.

On the other hand, the Dornish side was constantly receiving victorious reports.

Long ago, Anders Yronwood, the Earl, had planted an inside man in Nightsong, who burned countless provisions and supplies under the cover of night, then vanished without a trace.

The frontier commander, Bryce Caron, was furious, swearing to find this traitor. He hanged over thirty people, including the warehouse guards and the steward, but still couldn't locate the Dornish spy.

Now, the most pressing concern was not finding the spy but what to eat next.

The number of soldiers within Nightsong was great, but supplies were scarce. Though they could call on their liege lord, Randyll, for aid, the distance was too great, and they had to face Dornish cavalry's harassment.

Therefore, Bryce Caron, the Earl, was forced to open the gates and march out for battle. Both sides commenced their standoff beneath Nightsong.

Soon, the horns sounded, and a fierce battle erupted.

The Dornish favored metallic round shields. The endless Dornish army, wielding shields and long spears or short javelins, surged towards the frontier army. Dornish archers, holding double-curved longbows, drew their strings and notched their arrows.

*Thump, thump, thump—*

A dark rain of arrows fell like a covering cloud. The frontier soldiers held up their shields to block the arrow storm, the shafts striking the shields with a crisp sound.

*Splurch—*

Still, some stray arrows penetrated the shield wall, falling into the crowd below, followed by screams as soldiers fell.

"Kill!"

The frontier soldiers fiercely retaliated as the Dornish forces surged forward, and the battle cries shook the earth.

This was the largest-scale battle on the land of Westeros since the Battle of Riverrun months ago, with tens of thousands of troops clashing.

Damon Sand, the baseborn son of Godsgrace, brandished a curved blade, leading the charge and slicing the throats of two frontier soldiers. He hoped to gain his father's approval, not be sent to groom horses again.

However, at that moment, an ugly knight covered in pox marks charged from Damon's side. Wearing dark gold armor and wielding sword and shield, he was exceptionally brave.

"Come!"

"Godsgrace's bastard! Dare you fight me?"

He recognized Damon Sand's identity. Damon's father, a Dornish cavalry commander, had caused much trouble to the frontier nobles, repeatedly harassing their supply lines and burning villages.

Damon Sand, though young and often at his father's side, fought bravely and had gained some renown in this war.

"Roland, my Lord!"

Seeing the knight in dark gold armor step forward to challenge the enemy's champion, cheers erupted from the frontier army.

His name was Roland Storm, also a baseborn, a son of the former Lord Byron Caron and half-brother to the current Lord Bryce Caron. He was known as "Nightsong's Bastard."

He was also a brave warrior and had once been called an experienced killer by the Dornish commander, Anders Yronwood.

But the young Dornish warrior, Damon Sand, was also proud and arrogant. Hearing the challenge, especially the emphasis on "Godsgrace's bastard," he became enraged.

"Roland!"

"Come! Let us decide the victor!"

Then Damon Sand, swinging his curved blade, charged at Roland Storm.

Nightsong's Bastard, wearing heavy plate armor, stood firmly on the ground, his face calm. He discarded his shield, gripping his longsword with both hands.

"Kill!"

Then, with a thunderous roar, their weapons clashed.

*Clang—*

Roland Storm's strength was immense. With a heavy swing, he cleaved through Damon Sand's curved blade, simultaneously beheading his warhorse.

Without even a whinny of pain, hot blood sprayed like a fountain, and the horse's heavy body fell to the ground.

Damon Sand, thrown from the horse, tumbled to the ground, stars dancing before his eyes.

"Ptui—"

He spat out a mouthful of sand, but before he could rise, Roland Storm, sword in hand, strode toward him.

"Spare me!"

"I surrender!"

"I've surrendered!"

Damon Sand, seeing this, knelt, raising his hands in surrender, but Roland Storm paid him no heed. He raised his longsword high and brought it down.

*Splurch—*

With one stroke, he beheaded him. Blood spurted out, and the body fell to the ground. Nightsong's Bastard had slain Godsgrace's Bastard.

However, although the frontier army won the battle of bastards, they did not win the war.

With the Riverlands' reinforcements beaten back and supplies failing to arrive, the frontier army, outnumbered, had already performed admirably.

Yet war ultimately depends on soldier quality and quantity, weapons, equipment, and logistics. While strategy can influence a battle, it boils down to real strength.

The frontier nobles suffered a bitter defeat, losing Nightsong, and were forced to retreat to the rear at Blackcrown.

The Dornish army pursued briefly but did not continue to chase and enlarge their victory. Instead, they headed northwest towards Highgarden.

Situated on the Riverlands' plains, Highgarden was considered the most beautiful castle in the Seven Kingdoms, built entirely of white marble and filled with art, music, and culture.

Countless poems, tunes, and novels often used it as a backdrop, narrating knights' martial prowess, virtues, and loyalty, and their love stories with beautiful noble ladies.

However, now, faced with the Dornish army, Highgarden had neither strong natural defenses nor tall walls to hold.

With Nightsong defeated, the Seven Kingdoms' most beautiful castle suddenly found itself in grave peril.

Chapter 484: The Situation in the Stormlands

Dorne's mighty army has made a breakthrough, conquering the frontier and completely encircling Highgarden, the capital of the Reach.

Willas Tyrell, heir to House Tyrell, has succeeded his father as the commander of Highgarden. He personally took to the battlements, fortifying the defenses.

Simultaneously, House Tyrell has sent ravens to their most affluent and influential bannermen, the Hightower family of Oldtown, pleading for assistance. They hope they will lead their bannermen and soldiers to break the siege of Highgarden.

The Hightowers, one of the most ancient and proud noble families in Westeros, trace their lineage back to the First Men, like the Starks, and once ruled as kings in the Age of Dawn.

But since then, the Hightowers did not resist the Andal invasion; instead, they assisted and later submitted to successive River Kings, giving up their crown to retain their ancient privileges and status.

The masters of the Hightower, though powerful and exceedingly wealthy, favor trade over war and rarely engage in Westerosi civil strife.

However, during this siege of Highgarden, the Hightowers, known for their shrewd investment and allegiance, answered the call of their liege.

Seemingly committed to standing with the traditional nobility against the Iron Throne, they dispatched a fresh army to Highgarden upon receiving the raven.

Troops gather in this land, and a thick cloud of war now hangs over the prosperous Reach.

King's Landing has just concluded a grand wedding, while the Reach is in turmoil. The recent victory at Nightsong and the siege of Highgarden by Dorne are still fresh and yet to spread.

Meanwhile, in the neighboring Stormlands, House Baratheon should have been the most active in responding to recapture the capital and release the imprisoned king. However, Storm's End has become eerily quiet, seemingly indifferent to the world's events.

When Renly besieged King's Landing, he promised Jaime he would send troops to aid the city, but no one knows where that aid has gone.

Storm's End is only a short distance from King's Landing, but no Baratheon soldiers were seen when the city fell.

Perhaps they heard the news of King's Landing's fall halfway there and turned back.

The entire Stormlands seem offline since the Targaryen army returned, as if awaiting doom.

Dorne's decision to break through the frontier did catch the Stormlands' attention. Renly sent a relief army with supplies, then went silent once more.

However, it's not that Renly doesn't want to act; the situation within Storm's End is more complex than outsiders can imagine.

Since the defeat and dissolution of the Allied Army at Riverrun, Stannis was captured, but his importance is less than King Robert's or the Warden of the North, Eddard Stark, so he was lightly guarded, slightly neglected.

Stannis's aide, the 'Onion Knight' Davos Seaworth, remained loyal. After escaping the battlefield, he hired mercenaries to plot Stannis's rescue, eventually freeing him from King's Landing's dungeon.

But Stannis had no suitable place to go. Dragonstone had long been occupied by the Targaryens, and he had neither soldiers nor money, so he was forced to return home to Storm's End, seeking refuge with his brother.

The current Duke of Storm's End is Stannis's younger brother, the fifteen-year-old Renly Baratheon, who welcomed his older brother without any suspicion, even hosting a feast in his honor.

But the naive boy who initially had no defenses might now be regretting it entirely.

Stannis is not as just as others say; he is serious and lacks humor, unable to flatter or deceive. Yet, he also has personal desires, hidden under a tough, indifferent exterior, making it hard to see through.

When Renly was made Duke of Storm's End and the Baratheon brothers divided the family, he was only a few years old, so the bond between them could hardly be called deep.

The naive boy warmly welcomed his brother, but Stannis was like a wolf among sheep.

Though his knees were wounded, making it hard to stand for long, he quickly used his influence to carve a place in Storm's End, winning over many old followers.

Ten years ago, during Robert's Rebellion, Stannis held the castle for a year, so his reputation in Storm's End is unparalleled.

And now, even though the brothers are only secretly at odds without an open break, Stannis is also a Baratheon, so many of Renly's followers secretly correspond with Stannis without any burden.

But for Renly, realizing his brother's ambition came too late.

As the nominal ruler of the Stormlands, Duke of Storm's End, he has lost control of nearly half his forces. If he turns against his brother now, he may face immediate fragmentation of the Stormlands.

Renly's advisors offered him two options.

The first was to act first, send assassins to catch Stannis off guard, and end him quickly, or else things would get more complicated. But Renly hesitated at this proposal.

In the Faith of the Seven, kinslaying is a grave sin. Even if Renly could ignore it, he couldn't stop people from talking.

The second option was to submit to the Iron Throne, hand over Storm's End and even the Stormlands without a fight, in exchange for the Iron Throne's mercy towards Renly and House Baratheon.

Considering Viserys's treatment of Cersei, who still resides in the Red Keep, and Tyrion's admission to the Small Council, Renly could probably gain some benefits if he surrendered Storm's End, or at least save his life.

But Renly also hesitated at this option, unsure what to do, as surrendering would be like placing his head under someone else's knife, with life and death at their whim.

So he tentatively leaked some information, hoping to gauge the Iron Throne's reaction.

But to his disappointment, the Iron Throne did not respond at all.

Chapter 485: A Letter from Viserys

Yet, at this very moment, a letter from King's Landing shattered the eerie atmosphere within Storm's End.

*Flap, flap—*

A raven, black as night, descended from the sky, its wings stilled as it alighted upon a tower of Storm's End. Servants were soon notified, and two maesters hurried over.

"Maester Clyson, a letter from King's Landing," one announced.

The maester of Storm's End fed the raven a morsel, skillfully untying the letter from its leg as it pecked at the snack. He glanced at the seal, and his face slightly changed.

"What?" he muttered.

An elderly maester, his face lined with age, also changed color upon hearing the 'young' maester's words.

He took the letter from the other's hand and looked at it. The seal, embossed with a three-headed dragon and edged in gold, clearly identified the writer.

"This is a personal letter from Viserys?" he questioned.

"Who is the young dragonlord writing to?" Maester Clyson and the maester of Storm's End almost simultaneously inquired. Clyson referred to him as 'Viserys,' while the Storm's End maester called him 'young dragonlord.'

The envelope was clearly addressed, 'To be delivered to the Lord of Storm's End.'

Who was the lord of Storm's End? The answer was obvious.

The two maesters exchanged glances, and the Storm's End maester took the letter from the old Clyson, nodding slightly. He descended the stairs and made straight for Renly's study.

Maester Clyson watched his younger colleague's retreating back from the tower, his dim eyes twinkling.

"This letter..." he began.

The septuagenarian was clearly still sharp-witted, and he sensed that something was amiss.

Why would Viserys secretly write to Renly? As mortal enemies, what could they possibly have to discuss? What might Viserys have written in the letter? If Viserys was now writing to Renly, did that mean Renly had written to Viserys before, and this was merely a reply?

Clyson's white-haired head pondered, his mind racing, as he stood atop the tower, leaning on the balustrade.

Then, considering recent news of Renly contacting Viserys and inquiring about terms should Storm's End bend the knee, Maester Clyson felt he was drawing closer to the truth.

"Not good," he murmured, his face suddenly changing. If things were as he suspected, then Viserys and Renly were undoubtedly conspiring against Stannis.

Though once the maester of Storm's End and impartial towards the Baratheon children, he liked Renly as well.

When Clyson had followed Stannis to Dragonstone, it was out of sympathy for the child who had held the castle for over a year, gaining the greatest merit but reaping the least reward. He felt Stannis needed him most.

Clyson viewed the Baratheon children as his own. Robert was imprisoned, and the other two brothers should unite against their foes rather than quarrel over power, or be divided by their enemies, leading to fratricide.

"Renly has gone astray!" he exclaimed.

"No, I must hurry to inform Stannis and stop Renly."

Clyson's brief contemplation left him feeling overworked, sweat beading on his forehead, his nose reddening.

The old maester's age was indeed showing, and with his injured behind, he hurried down from the tower, making for Stannis's chambers, nearly stumbling on the way.

"Maester Clyson, what's the matter?"

"What's so urgent?" Davos, the Onion Knight, quickly supported the nearly fallen Clyson, asking in surprise.

"I must see Stannis!"

"Take me to Stannis quickly; tell him Renly wants to kill him!" Clyson panted, his wrinkled face flushed, clutching Davos's hand and speaking hurriedly.

"What?!" Davos was startled, nearly turning to run to Stannis's chambers.

But, as a naturally cautious man, he thought it over, finding the matter unlikely.

Stannis's power, though not as strong as Renly's, was not much weaker. Renly seeking to kill Stannis at this time would only please their enemies and pain their kin, would it not?

And according to the faith of the Seven, kinslayers are surely punished by the gods. Based on Davos's understanding of Renly, he was not someone of resolute mind and action.

How could he decide to risk civil war and kill Stannis at this time, and have the courage to be a kinslayer?

"This matter is of great import, Maester Clyson. We must not act rashly, lest misunderstandings arise," Davos calmly advised.

"Tell Lord Stannis yourself."

Davos then called a guard to escort Clyson to Stannis.

"Guard!"

Being cautious, he gathered all the guards loyal to Stannis, securing the area near Stannis's chambers, leaving no room for error.

Better safe than sorry.

Though Davos instinctively felt the matter unlikely, who could be certain in this world without the ability to foresee?

Negligence in this game of thrones would surely lead to utter ruin.

In Stannis's chambers, clad in armor and preparing to train soldiers, he was taken aback by Clyson's words, also sensing something amiss.

"What?"

"There's such a thing?"

Stannis's brow furrowed, his nature suspicious.

Viserys writing to Renly? What did he write? Stannis had once seen Viserys himself, in the war room at Riverrun.

Based on his understanding, Viserys was not one to waste time on trivial matters. He would not write to Renly about something insignificant.

And if it were significant, why had Renly not come to discuss it after receiving the letter?

"Maester Clyson, you've come at the right time."

"No, I must find Renly and ask him clearly."

Chapter 486: The Feud of Brothers

Stannis's character, although resolute and increasingly courageous in adversity, was prone to overthinking, and once a man thinks too much, problems easily arise.

"Doubt those you do not use, and do not doubt those you do use."

Stannis trusted two people most. One was Maester Cressen, who had watched him grow up and considered him like his own son.

The other was the 'Onion Knight,' Ser Davos Seaworth, who had twice saved his life. Without the Onion Knight, Stannis might have starved to death ten years ago when besieged by the Tyrell army at Storm's End.

Therefore, he had always regarded Davos as his most trusted confidant, and Davos had repaid Stannis's trust by saving his life once again.

Now, after hearing Maester Cressen's words, Stannis pondered more and more and felt that something was amiss.

"I'll go to Renly and clear this up."

Stannis was already wearing his armor, preparing to train his soldiers, and he immediately took his sword from the wall and hung it at his waist.

Moreover, out of caution, Stannis feared that rashly going to see his brother would be like a lamb entering a tiger's mouth. So he took a few loyal guards with him.

To prevent misunderstandings, he left Ser Davos behind, telling him to rush all the guards within Storm's End who had pledged allegiance to him if anything unexpected happened on the other side.

Though the Onion Knight did not know what Maester Cressen had said to Stannis, he saw that Lord Stannis was preparing to confront Lord Renly and immediately agreed without delay.

"Yes, my lord."

Stannis saw that Davos was immediately prepared and nodded in satisfaction.

Although Davos was only a former smuggler, his ability to handle matters had always been outstanding, and he had never disappointed him, so Stannis felt at ease leaving him behind.

Then, fully armed, Stannis quickly led several guards directly to Renly's study.

Meanwhile, a clean-faced young man with long black hair was sitting in a chair, looking at a blank piece of paper in his hand and appearing somewhat dazed. After hesitating for a moment, he asked:

"Sir Donald."

"What do you think... the Young Dragon Lord sent me a blank piece of paper for?"

Donald Swann, the eldest son and heir of Lord Gulian Swann of Stonehelm, had been sent by his ailing father to serve in Storm's End and represent Stonehelm.

"This, my lord, I beg your pardon."

Donald, hearing Renly's question, also showed a puzzled expression, scratching his head. He did not know why Viserys had sent Renly a blank piece of paper.

Was Viserys idle? Sending over a blank piece of paper for no reason?

"My lord, something's gone wrong!"

At that moment, a knock came at the door of Renly's study, and a guard from Storm's End came to Renly in a panic, telling him about the sudden activity on Stannis's side.

"What?"

Renly's face changed abruptly upon hearing the guard's words.

Stannis's confidant, the Onion Knight Davos, for some unknown reason, suddenly gathered all the guards who had pledged allegiance to Stannis.

And Stannis himself, donned in armor, was angrily coming over.

Ever since the brothers' overt and covert discord, Renly had learned from experience, and the young man had become aware of the treachery of people's hearts.

Although he had not yet decided whether to side with Viserys or take the initiative to eliminate his elder brother, he had sent guards to secretly monitor Stannis, reporting immediately if anything stirred.

Now, Stannis had suddenly gathered the guards, and, armed and furious, was coming to him.

What did he want to do?

"Sir Donald!"

"Quick! Summon all the guards!"

The black-haired young man, thinking of this, immediately pushed the table and stood up, speaking hurriedly.

Regardless of what Stannis wanted to do, one must always be on guard against others.

And Donald Swann, hearing Renly's command without knowing what had happened, did not dare to delay and immediately ran out.

"Yes, Lord Renly!"

During this time, the situation within Storm's End had reached a tense point.

Although the conflict between Renly and Stannis, the two brothers, had not yet fully erupted, it was already well-known, and everyone knew that this kind of discord would eventually lead to a clash.

That's why Viserys's letter had caused such a stir. At this moment, for Storm's End, any little movement could trigger the sensitive nerves of both sides.

Because of the immense pressure exerted by Viserys in King's Landing, coupled with the envoys of House Lannister coming from afar, Storm's End was now filled with stormland nobles, discussing how to respond.

Should they unite the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and the Vale to fight against House Targaryen, or choose to kneel in submission?

However, while this matter had been going on for so long without a resolution, Stannis and Renly, the two brothers, suddenly called their loyal vassals, looking like they were preparing for civil war.

"Quick!"

"Quick!"

Donald Swann brought the guards and nobles loyal to Renly, and Stannis also angrily came over at that moment.

"My dear elder brother, what do you intend to do?"

Renly, with the help of his attendants, had put on his armor and grasped the hilt of his sword.

He saw Sir Donald leading the guards and felt more confident. His swordsmanship was also decent, so he turned his head to look at Stannis and asked:

"Do you wish to kill me and seize Storm's End, the thing you've long dreamed of?"

Renly's opening words choked Stannis, who had been prepared to confront him, and the guards and nobles loyal to both sides immediately focused their eyes on Stannis.

Regardless, in this age, kinslaying was an absolutely unforgivable crime, and this time, the conflict had been started by Stannis.

"Mind your words, Renly!"

"That joke is not funny at all."

Stannis slightly gripped the hilt of his sword, and although he spoke of a joke, there was not a trace of amusement on his face. Instead, it was all cold indifference, his eyes fixed on his younger brother, as if looking at an enemy.

"Storm's End is my home; it's not something I dream of. It should have been mine all along."

"Ten years ago, when I was desperately holding Storm's End, you were but a little brat playing with urine and mud!"

Chapter 487: Civil War in Storm's End

The dark-haired young man in armor had a smirk on his face, but upon hearing Stannis's words, his smile vanished, replaced with anger.

Before Renly could retort, Stannis continued.

"And moreover, Renly, you know full well what you've done. It's not that I wish to kill you, but that you wish to kill me now!"

"I've received word that the Mad King's son has written you a secret letter. What's in it? If you're so guilt-free, why not reveal it for the lords to see?" Stannis said, gripping his sword's hilt, a cold smile on his face.

"What?"

"Could this be true?"

Stannis's words sent shockwaves through the room, and all the Stormland nobles and guards stared at each other and then turned their gaze to Renly.

Did Viserys write Renly a secret letter?

Why would he write to Renly?

What did the letter say?

Why had Lord Renly never mentioned it?

"Yes, Viserys did write Lord Renly a secret letter. If its contents can be shown, why not reveal it?" A noble siding with Stannis immediately echoed, while many Stormland nobles, even those loyal to Renly, nodded slightly.

Had they not gathered at Storm's End to unite against the pressure from Viserys?

Whether in war or peace, they would fight to the end to preserve the nobles' honor and dignity, or come together to negotiate with Viserys.

They would demand respect for the traditional rights of nobility and never allow the low-born to be called 'my lord.'

But now, Renly's secret communication with Viserys had betrayed them. How could they tolerate this?

Renly's face turned pale at Stannis's words, and a strong sense of shame and anger surged in him.

As the Lord of the Stormlands, Duke of Storm's End, how could they command him to reveal his private letters? Was this not a great humiliation?

Renly also had a bad feeling, sensing Viserys's treacherous intentions...

But just as he prepared to deny the letter's existence, he remembered the envelope was in his study, unopened. If caught lying, things would be even worse.

So Renly had to swallow his pride, gripping his sword's hilt, his face red with anger, and admit, "Yes, Viserys did write me a letter."

"But there's nothing in it, only a blank paper!"

Unfortunately, Renly's concession did not earn Stannis's mercy. Renly's older brother, known for holding grudges and never forgiving, stepped closer, staring coldly at his younger brother.

"You're still the same, Renly."

"What?"

Renly felt uneasy under his brother's gaze, his eyes shifting slightly.

Since childhood, he had disliked his second brother. Robert, his older brother, was hearty and often took Renly out to play.

But Stannis was stern every day, even throwing away the beautiful stones Renly collected by the sea, a childhood trauma for Renly.

"You lie with shifting eyes."

Stannis suddenly said.

"You've always been this way. Father and mother died early, they never had time for you."

"Whenever you did something wrong, Robert was busy with whores and wine, not caring for you. I was the one always disciplining you, fearing you'd go astray."

"But I didn't think a few years on Dragonstone would lead you down the wrong path."

Stannis's voice was filled with regret, his eyes piercing, as if he never knew joy. He raised his voice, shouting, "Do you think me and the lords are fools?!"

"Viserys put a blank paper in the envelope?"

Stannis's sudden rage caught Renly off guard, making him bow subconsciously.

But Renly was no longer the child under Stannis's discipline; now fifteen, he was rebellious. Stannis's scolding enraged him, and he yelled back, "I didn't lie!"

"Viserys only put a blank paper in the envelope I received, and it's still in my study. If you don't believe me, go and look!"

But sadly, no one believed Renly. His words even made the nobles loyal to him doubtful.

Viserys putting a blank paper in an envelope?

That could only fool children.

As Renly saw more and more skeptical glances, he knew things were bad.

If he let things continue, all would turn against him before he could resist, putting him in danger.

Clang—

So Renly acted decisively, drawing his sword, pointing it at his brother.

"Stannis is twisting the truth, trying to kill me and seize Storm's End. Take him down!"

At Renly's command, the nobles hesitated slightly, but the guards loyal to Renly did not.

They didn't care about letters or noble principles; they were loyal to their lord. Renly had commanded them to capture Stannis, so they charged, drawing their swords.

Stannis's side had only four or five guards, but they were fearless, drawing their swords as well.

"Kill him!"

"Kill!"

Clang, clang—

A fierce battle erupted in Storm's End.

The hesitating nobles, realizing they couldn't stand idly by, chose sides, drawing their swords and joining the fight.

Stannis's reinforcements arrived from nearby.

The Onion Knight, Davos, had been watching and, seeing the fight, led his guards into the battle.

The forces were evenly matched.

Chapter 488: Desperate Turnaround

"Kill!"

The internal strife within House Bylashin was exceptionally bloody, with nearly all the guards, nobles, and servants at Whispering Keep taking part.

Some even seized the chaos to steal gold and jewels, fleeing hastily, while the defenseless children, maids, and old women met a terrible fate. The sounds of fighting and cries were everywhere.

Thud, thud, thud—

The heir to Stonehelm, Donald Swen, was pierced by arrows, holding his bloodstained sword with a face full of disbelief.

He was the eldest son of Gulian Swen and the next Earl of Stonehelm, but he never expected to die in the internal conflict of House Bylashin.

Soon, Sir Donald's body lay in a pool of blood, trampled by both sides in the melee.

Elsewhere, the Onion Knight, Davos, with only one hand, struggled to kill a guard loyal to Lannice, only to be knocked down by a knight.

Thump—

"Die!"

This knight was Sir Jon Wilder from Rain House of the Wilder family, now loyal to the Stormlands' liege, Lannice Bylashin.

He killed two of Stannis's guards, then targeted Davos Seaworth. Everyone who knew Stannis understood that the Onion Knight was his right-hand man.

Jon Wilder's armor was smeared with blood. He kicked Davos from behind and raised his sword to end the Onion Knight's life.

But Davos, tasting dirt and seeing this, scrambled in panic to pick up his fallen sword and block Jon Wilder's strike.

Clang—

The swords collided with a ringing sound.

Davos rolled awkwardly on the ground, dodging Jon Wilder's attack once again.

Though an experienced smuggler, the Onion Knight was not a skilled swordsman.

From childhood, he had never been good at fighting, often beaten black and blue by others in Flea Bottom. But Davos had a way with words and loyalty, persuading a bunch of lads to help him, quickly striking back.

Many of the thieves, robbers, and grey forces in King's Landing were Davos's former partners.

"Die!"

The knight from the Wilder family continued to chase Davos, wanting to kill him. But in his frantic flight, Davos suddenly grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in Jon Wilder's face.

"Shit!"

The knight cursed in annoyance, his eyes blinded by the dust.

Davos seized the opportunity, thrusting his sword through Jon Wilder's chest.

Spurt—

The Onion Knight, holding his sword with one hand, killed the Wilder family's knight. He kicked the body to the ground, pulled out the sword, gasping for breath, and surveyed the battle around him.

"Whew~"

"Whew~"

The sounds of fighting were everywhere, but Stannis's side had no advantage.

Although Stannis had shaken some of Lannice's nobles with his words, there were still more loyal to the latter. After all, Lannice was the rightful Duke of Whispering Keep.

In the heart of the battlefield, the Bylashin brothers, Stannis and Lannice, engaged in a one-on-one duel.

Clang—

Their swords collided without flourish, creating a piercing metallic sound that stood out in the chaotic battle.

"You are no match for me, Lannice," Stannis said, holding his sword steady and blocking Lannice's attack. Their swords locked, and his eyes fixed on his younger brother. "Surrender now, and I will spare your life."

But Lannice only scoffed, his training with Whispering Keep's master-at-arms making his swordsmanship decent, and his pride was at its peak.

"That's what I wanted to say to you, brother."

The younger Bylashin, wearing a golden stag helm, pushed forward, surprisingly forcing Stannis back several steps.

"Is that all you have, dear brother?" Lannice taunted, standing his ground.

Stannis's face darkened, his grip on the hilt tightening, his voice raspy.

He realized for the first time how formidable his once insignificant younger brother had become.

"If this were a real battlefield, you'd already be headless, Lannice," Stannis warned. "I'll tell you one last time: drop your weapon, kneel and surrender. I won't hold back again."

Lannice, of course, would not kneel. The talented young knight snorted and attacked his brother again.

"Words are useless!"

Clang, clang, clang—

The brothers engaged in an intense duel.

Lannice, systematically trained by Whispering Keep's master-at-arms and naturally talented, was indeed more flashy and sharp than Stannis.

He even pressured the veteran Stannis, who fought with straightforward and practical strikes.

Slash—

Lannice's sword found an opportunity to cut Stannis's thigh, leaving a long wound.

Stannis's knee was already injured, and though it had healed, it still hindered him. The wound to his thigh exacerbated his disadvantage, and he staggered.

"Tired, dear brother?" Lannice teased.

He then kicked Stannis's sword away and struck the back of his injured knee, forcing Stannis to kneel with a painful grunt.

Lannice had the chance to kill Stannis but hesitated when the blade was at his brother's neck.

He realized that killing his brother would brand him a kinslayer, perhaps even more infamous than the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister.

"Surrender, my brother," Lannice said, his voice softened by doubt, momentarily distracted by family ties over hatred.

But Stannis suddenly drew a dagger from an inconspicuous place at his waist and stabbed it into Lannice's chest.

Spurt—

Blood splattered.

Chapter 489: The Death of Renly Baratheon

With a thud, the black-haired young man wearing a deer-antlered helmet stared wide-eyed.

Before him, he watched in disbelief as his elder brother plunged a dagger into his own chest. Blood spurted out, flowing from his nose, mouth, ears, and eyes.

"Brother, why..."

At this moment, Renly felt as if his lungs were a punctured bellows. Breathing was a struggle, but he persisted. He fixed his gaze on his elder brother, trying to say something, but the gushing blood choked his words.

"I told you, Renly," Stannis declared, hand clutching a wounded thigh, his own body drenched in blood. He struggled to stand upright, gasping for breath, eyes filled with resolve. "This is a real battlefield! It's not a child's play or a mere joust. Only those who endure to the end can win. Never let your guard down until the enemy's neck is broken."

Gulping air, his voice hoarse, Stannis continued, "Renly, you're too young. You understand nothing."

The scene was one of shock; Stannis had, against all odds, turned on and killed Renly. The nobles and guards present stood stunned. None had expected the young Duke of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon, to perish here.

When Maester Cressen, a loyal old advisor of Storm's End, arrived, he bore witness to Stannis's fatal strike. "Stop!" he cried, but too late. Stannis's decision to kill his own brother was unfathomable to Cressen, who almost fainted, realizing the magnitude of his miscalculation.

The battlefield fell silent. An older, white-haired lord shouted in outrage, "Stannis! What have you done? You killed your own brother?!" Such kin-slaying was a grievous stain, forbidden by the faith of the Seven and reviled by society.

Yet Stannis remained unmoved, holding Renly's lifeless body. Gently, he laid him on the ground, closed his brother's eyes, and then turned to face the older man. "Lord Estermont," he said gravely, "Renly sought to kill me. Why shouldn't I kill him in return?"

"You lie! Renly had shown you mercy!" Lord Estermont's white beard quivered in anger.

"Lord Estermont!" Stannis suddenly raised his voice, cutting him off. "Renly conspired with Viserys, aiming to kill me and present the Stormlands as a gift."

Stannis's gaze flitted across the gathered crowd, making many lower their heads. His eyes settled again on Lord Estermont. "I met Ser Emon at the Battle of Riverrun." The old lord deflated at the mention of his son, Emon Estermont, who had fallen at Riverrun, trying to become a hero by challenging Viserys and meeting a swift end.

Driven by this vendetta, Lord Estermont would never yield to Viserys. Renly's alliance with him was a painful reminder.

"Hmph! I won't ever support a kin-slayer," Estermont declared, leaving the scene. The guards loyal to Stannis hesitated, but a stern look from Estermont held them at bay. "What, 'kinslayer', will you not let me leave?"

Stannis watched Estermont's retreating figure, a hint of frustration on his face. He dared not act, given the many nobles still present with their guards. An act against Estermont could trigger chaos.

Yet, after Renly's death, Stannis tried to rally the remaining Stormlands' nobles. The results were disappointing. Many, having witnessed Stannis kill Renly, found it hard to accept him, even dubbing him the 'kinslayer'.

"Both the old and new gods will forever curse the kinslayer!" Stannis claimed the titles of Duke of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, but few celebrated his ascension. That night, many nobles left Storm's End with their armies, leaving only a few loyal knights behind.

News of these events soon reached King's Landing. Viserys had just presided over a trial, condemning a noble who had kidnapped a young girl. By evening, as he reviewed the latest reports in the Red Keep, Varys, the 'Spider', presented the news.

Viserys once distrusted the eunuch, but now, having altered Varys's memories, he could trust him implicitly.

"The Dornish army has breached Nightsong and now besieges Highgarden. The Tyrells have sought aid from House Hightower, and their armies march from Oldtown," Varys reported. "Prince Oberyn's forces clashed with the Lannisters near Red Lake. The details of the skirmish are unclear."

"News from the Stormlands is that Stannis Baratheon has killed his younger brother, Renly, proclaiming himself Duke of Storm's End. However, many Stormland nobles do not recognize his claim."

Viserys's attention was caught by another piece of intelligence. "News from the Vale?"

Chapter 490: Unrest in the Vale

This information was provided by Varys, detailing events occurring within the Vale.

The 'League of Righteousness' is a name the nobles who've seized the Eyrie have given themselves.

They've taken control of the Vale, compelling the remaining nobility to join them, executing those who refuse, and destroying their castles and families if resistance continues.

A noble house openly accused the League of Righteousness of treacherous rebellion upon their entry to the Eyrie. They were swiftly besieged and destroyed, their entire family slaughtered.

As order crumbles and hearts change, the blade is naturally raised high. The rest of the Vale's nobility, having seen this example, dare not openly oppose the League and are forced to join them.

The more nobles the League coerces, the more rapidly their power grows, becoming increasingly uncontrollable.

This growth in power brings unparalleled authority, a taste of power that's addictive. They imagine themselves as the real rulers of the Eyrie, and once greed is unleashed, it can never be restrained—unless faced with a wall.

The first to seize power among the Vale's nobles are led by Jon Royce, Count of Runestone.

Also, the Waywood and Hunter families have quickly decayed after taking control of the Vale's ruling Arryn family.

Jon Royce is reasonable, though he's selfishly married off his daughter. He still holds the greater good of uniting all nobles against the young Dragon King. However, the rest of the League of Righteousness is embroiled in a series of power struggles and infighting.

Especially centered around the attractive widow married into the Arryn family and her child, there's jealousy and intrigue.

Everyone wants to possess Lysa and young Duke Robert Arryn's custody, including the just Jon Royce, Count of Runestone.

Lysa Tully's suitors in the Vale are not few.

In her youth, Lysa was a pretty, slender, large-breasted girl, shy and delicate. But after marrying the Vale's decrepit Jon Arryn and experiencing several miscarriages, her figure has become somewhat plump and she looks much more haggard.

Moreover, Lysa Tully's family is formidable. The Tullys have weathered the storm and sided with Viserys.

Although stripped of their dukedom and lordship over the Riverlands, Riverrun still remains in the Tullys' hands, and their decline isn't imminent.

And if the League of Righteousness is defeated one day, they may kneel to the young Dragon King, thanks to the Tully family's relations—a bet on both sides.

Therefore, Lysa Tully is now highly sought after, even more than when she was young and beautiful.

According to information gathered by Varys's little birds, Lysa Tully's room is not locked at night.

Witnesses have seen several Vale nobles enter the widow's room late at night, staying for a long time, and strange noises have been heard.

"This is interesting."

Viserys read this intelligence and couldn't help but laugh and shake his head, while the Spider still stood with crossed arms, bowing slightly, looking utterly humble.

According to the intelligence, those who had entered the Duchess of the Eyrie's bedroom late at night included Jon Royce, Count of Runestone, Littlefinger Petyr Baelish, Ian Hunter, Count older than Jon Arryn, and his son Jeywood Hunter, the Eyrie's chief steward Nestor Royce, and others.

The gentle breeze outside the window is warm, the sun filtering through the white curtains into the bright study of the Red Keep's Maegor's Holdfast.

The silver-haired young man, dressed in black velvet, legs crossed, leans back in his chair, reading the intelligence and revealing a mysterious smile, followed by thoughtful contemplation.

Although Petyr Baelish is just one of those who have entered Lysa Tully's room late at night, based on Viserys's understanding of Littlefinger, the master of intrigue is undoubtedly involved in this matter.

Perhaps the current chaos within the League of Righteousness is Littlefinger's handiwork.

"Hmph, Littlefinger,"

Viserys set down the intelligence and lightly snorted, touching the platinum ring on his finger, closing his eyes.

"Chaos isn't a pit; it's a ladder. Kingdoms, gods, love—all illusions. Only the ladder is real; the climb is all that matters."

When Viserys reopened his eyes, he saw Varys looking dumbfounded, as if he had heard something extraordinary.

"It's nothing, don't be surprised, Varys."

Viserys naturally didn't need to consider what Varys was thinking at that moment. He just casually quoted Littlefinger's famous line.

"It's just something once said by a certain... wise man. I suddenly thought of it."

Varys, hearing Viserys's words, looked confused.

He hadn't read much and wanted to know which 'wise man' would utter such a rebellious statement?

But instinctively, he didn't dare question Viserys's words, only pondering inwardly for a moment, then bowing slightly to take his leave.

"Your Grace."

"Hmm."

Viserys nodded, watching Varys leave and close the door. He silently observed the eunuch's retreating figure, his face expressionless.

He cannot broadly modify the memory of a person. His mental control ability, after reaching thirty, only applies to short-term control of one's mind or minor memory modifications.

Varys is his experiment; he wanted to explore Varys's memory to understand his essence, but the Spider has hidden himself deeply.

Viserys added a keyword called 'loyalty' to Varys's memory.

If this keyword conflicts severely with Varys's nature, he might quickly detect the anomaly.

After all, humans are peculiar beings, intricate instruments with self-checking and rejection functions. The longer the time, the more the implanted memory conflicts, the sooner it might be detected.

The implanted person might not notice someone modified their memory, a fantastical skill, but they might subtly correct their views, realizing they once held an opinion contrary to their nature.

Chapter 491: Realization

As if beholding a fair maid by the roadside and thinking, 'Hmm? Why do I harbor such wicked thoughts?' Such is the case.

The spellbound may merely deem it a peculiar whim, for the mind spawns countless thoughts daily, never wandering to the possibility of one's spirit being manipulated.

As for Petyr Baelish,

His investments are indeed unique, imbued with a grand scheme. He has sided with Viserys for quite some time.

Once, Littlefinger was commissioned by Hand of the King Jon Arryn to seek Viserys in Pentos, imploring the young Dragonlord to ride his dragons to Westeros, aiding mankind against the White Walker invasion.

During this mission, Petyr Baelish had threefold responsibilities.

The first was the core objective: to summon aid.

The second was a commission by Queen Cersei, hoping to reconcile the hatred between the Targaryens and Lannisters, even offering herself to Viserys in marriage.

The third was Littlefinger's own matter, establishing a connection with Viserys through this mission.

During a midnight audience with Viserys to fulfill Cersei's task, he knelt, proclaiming the Baelish house should serve the 'true ruler of the Iron Throne'. Lysa Tully, his mistress, would be an inside aid to help Viserys gain the Vale.

Later, Jon Arryn's assassination, where Littlefinger was involved, had his shadow lurking behind.

His expertise lies in sowing discord, and human hearts are most easily swayed.

On the other side,

The only minister from Robert's council to remain in the new reign, 'The Spider' Varys, exited Viserys's chamber. The humble expression vanished as he closed the door.

"Chaos is not a pit, but a ladder."

The bald eunuch pondered this as he walked down the stairs to Maegor's Holdfast, his brow furrowed without eyebrows.

A sage?

Which one could utter such treasonous words?

Such a saying should be an aphorism for many plotters but has never been mentioned. Could it be the King's own words?

Varys was startled by this thought but remembered that Viserys was no simpleton.

A boy of eight, fled to the Eastern Continent, able to stir such turmoil, reclaiming the Iron Throne. Could he be a pure-hearted man?

But at this stage, the King indeed seems wise, intending to break the wheel of noble tyranny, providing hope to the destitute.

The bald eunuch found himself in the Red Keep's royal garden, lost in thought, bumping into Minister of the Navy, Joffrey Bracken, wearing the Bracken family crest.

The old earl was reinstated to the Seven Kingdoms at Viserys's insistence, resuming his former status.

He was the eldest son of the Brackens of Stone Hedge, his brother Jeynos executed in Riverrun.

He naturally became the new Earl of Stone Hedge, the future Governor of the Trident, leaving his brother's illegitimate child no courage to confront the new era's Minister of the Navy, considered by the King as his 'foster father.'

The sunlight in the royal garden was splendid, flowers blooming, the breeze gentle. The old earl, accustomed to his military attire studded with rivets, found no comfort in lavish robes.

"Lord Varys!"

The old man's white hair fluttered, his bald spot reflecting the sun. He spotted his preoccupied colleague and greeted him warmly. Varys was startled but soon recognized Lord Joffrey Bracken of Dragonstone, a faint smile on his face.

This old man, though of age, was still vibrant, his voice booming.

It was said that he was nearly killed by an arrow during Stannis's recapture of Dragonstone but survived, still sprightly.

"Good day, Lord Joffrey."

The bald eunuch gave a bitter smile and greeted back.

"Is something troubling you, Lord Varys?"

Varys intended to depart quickly, but the increasingly nosy Lord Joffrey Bracken stopped to chat.

"Merely trivial matters."

Joffrey stood still, chatting, and Varys reluctantly explained, then changed the subject.

"You're going to see His Grace?"

"Aye, indeed!"

The white-haired old earl nodded.

"A matter of naval supplies. Wanted to see the Treasurer Illyrio for funds, but he's not here, so I must see the King."

Then Joffrey remembered Illyrio mentioning a friend in Westeros, Varys. This made the bald eunuch seem more familiar, not the lonely figure in the corner of the council chamber.

"From now on, we serve together in the court. I hope Lord Varys will guide me."

"We are loyal, united in purpose, aiding His Grace, the King, in uniting the Seven Kingdoms swiftly."

Lord Joffrey always regarded Viserys as his own, watching him grow, reclaiming the Iron Throne. He naturally wanted to help Viserys govern the realm, avoiding the Mad King's fate.

The old earl shook Varys's hand warmly. The eunuch almost lost his forced smile until Joffrey left, exhaling deeply.

"Phew."

"This old man."

Born in the Free Cities, having seen lies and intrigue in King's Landing, Varys felt somewhat helpless before such hospitality.

"But."

Varys thought of a word Joffrey had used, feeling awkward.

"Loyalty?"

Chapter 492: The Game of Racing Against Time

Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, the Vale, and King's Landing were all in turmoil, caught in a change of fate unlike any in a thousand or even ten thousand years.

On the battlefields of the Westerlands, after leaving King's Landing, Oberyn Martell led an army of twenty thousand, charging along the Goldroad with great momentum, heading straight for Deep Den, seemingly intent on storming the gates of the Westerlands in a grand assault.

Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, received this news and immediately prepared for battle, deploying a series of commands and even personally attending the battlefield to ambush the Prince of Dorne.

However, the cunning Tywin never expected to be outmaneuvered by a younger generation. Because the Targaryen army attacked along the Goldroad, Tywin did not seek help from the Riverlands.

In fact, the Riverlands were currently fending for themselves, as Dorne's army had broken through the borderlands, surrounding Highgarden. House Tarly was on its way to assist, and House Tyrell was occupied with its own matters, naturally unable to attend to the Westerlands' side, and they were unaware of this news.

But at that moment, Oberyn's army, unhurriedly approaching Deep Den, suddenly turned and accelerated, breaking directly towards Silverhill.

Oberyn's forces easily conquered this small castle of House Swyft, leaving corpses strewn everywhere and smoke filling the air.

Silverhill, also known as the Silver Hall, was located on the edge of the Westerlands' mountainous area, rich in silver mines, hence its name.

Though they were prepared in advance, House Swyft, whose family motto was 'Matchless,' still could not withstand Oberyn's assault. They were even conquered before they had a chance to surrender.

And after conquering Silverhill, Oberyn began a massacre, venting his emotions and plundering House Swyft's accumulated wealth.

"Kill!" Oberyn commanded, and all members of House Swyft, save for the infants, were executed, their heads rolling to the ground.

This battle had been ten years in the waiting for Oberyn, and the abundant bloodshed brought him brief clarity.

From childhood, Oberyn had a very close relationship with his sister Elia. They were inseparable, sharing the sincerest kinship, not the twisted relationship of Cersei and Jaime.

Thus, after Elia's brutal murder by House Lannister, Oberyn was nearly driven mad, vowing to avenge his sister.

In this battle, Oberyn wanted to paint the entire Westerlands with blood. His thundering voice raised cheers among the Targaryen soldiers.

"Let their blood tell Tywin! It's not only the Lannisters who must pay their debts!"

"I will paint this land red with their blood! Take their gold! Burn their castles!"

By dusk that day,

Rumble, rumble—

The banner of the Sun and Spear and three-headed dragon fluttered, the thundering sound of galloping hooves was deafening, and the army's march enveloped the earth with dust, like a rolling torrent heading west under the setting sun.

The Targaryen Second Legion, having outmaneuvered Tywin Lannister, conquered Silverhill but did not linger there, continuing on their way.

This was a game of racing against time.

Oberyn's command style was flexible and cunning. Having successfully fooled Tywin Lannister, he had to seize the opportunity.

Oberyn had to conquer Cockleswent Hall before Tywin could react and lead the Westerlands' army there, opening the road to Lannisport; otherwise, all would be in vain.

Therefore, after conquering Silverhill, he left no survivors, hastened his speed, marched lightly, and went straight for the next target.

Cornfield.

Cornfield, like Silverhill, was also located on the outer edge of the Westerlands' mountains. It was a castle loyal to Casterly Rock, belonging to the Swyft family of knights, whose family crest was a yellow dwarf chicken on a blue field, with the motto 'Wake! Wake!'

Because Cornfield was even smaller than Silverhill, Oberyn did not personally lead the attack but sent Evan Passerby, Count of Lornach, to take it.

Oberyn himself led the main force south to Red Lake, preparing to bypass the vast forest from the Coastal Road straight to Cockleswent Hall.

Legend had it that the expansive forest next to the Sunset Sea had once been inhabited by the Children of the Forest. The First Men had waged a long war there with the Children of the Forest.

Only after the Pact on the Isle of Faces did the Children occupy the forests, and the First Men the coasts, plains, grasslands, mountains, and swamps, ending the Dawn Age and beginning the Age of Heroes.

According to the original plan, if Oberyn's army conquered Cockleswent Hall, they could directly attack the Westerlands' largest city, Lannisport, and the capital, Casterly Rock, avoiding the Westerlands' complex terrain and natural barriers.

But what Oberyn knew, Tywin Lannister, famous for his steady military command in the Seven Kingdoms, also realized.

He understood Oberyn's true intent after receiving the news of Silverhill's fall.

"Damn Dornish barbarian!"

"Summon the men!"

Inside his tent, Tywin looked at the belated intelligence and could not help but lift a candelabra and smash it to the ground. With an ashen face, he ordered a withdrawal.

He called everyone, despite it being the middle of the night, to set out immediately for the west.

In a duel between masters, each move reveals the other's intent.

The situation had become a game of racing against time.

However, Tywin was cautious this time, leaving many soldiers behind at Deep Den.

Despite the shorter direct distance from Deep Den to Cockleswent Hall, the complex roads and mountains within the Westerlands made the journey more challenging.

"Quick, quick, quick!"

"All men! Hasten your steps!"

Lord Tywin personally supervised the troops, warning all vassals and nobles that those who lagged would die.

After the marshal's team took the field and killed dozens, the entire troop's pace quickly increased.

Chapter 493: Armies Face Off

However, Duke Tywin's concerns for Deep Castle were indeed superfluous.

The mountainous terrain was indeed unsuitable for the Targaryen Second Legion, noted for its cavalry prowess. Oberyn's Second Legion consisted mainly of cavalry, each soldier well-versed in archery and horsemanship.

This was a clear representation of the Dornish army style, with Dorne's superior desert horse breeds giving them an advantage in cavalry duels. The Second Legion, led predominantly by the people of Lorraine, allowed them to move as fleet as the wind.

Deep Castle was such a place where an uphill assault on the castle, even by a small garrison, could halt a large army's advance. Oberyn might have feigned a strategy to confuse Tywin, but he would never actually use this as a point of breakthrough. The cost would be too great, unless he had lost his mind.

In fact, the more intelligent a person is, the more they pursue perfection and excellence. Anything less would be unchallenging for a clever mind, unable to satisfy their dopamine release.

Oberyn sought not only victory but victory at the lowest cost, achieving the most glorious results.

"Quick!"

"Everyone, run faster!"

Days later, this race against time finally had a preliminary result.

The Targaryen army moved faster, reaching Red Lake in the blink of an eye. The Lannister family's troops responded swiftly, with Duke Tywin rapidly deploying his forces. Ravens were sent, commanding his cousin Stafford Lannister to lead the remaining troops, even those from Lannisport, to rush to Hen Hall in support.

Oberyn was faster than Tywin, but not as swift as Stafford, who had the advantage of a straight road.

Thus, the two armies faced off by the shore of Red Lake, leading to a minor skirmish.

"Kill!"

With the sound of horns and thundering hooves, swords and blades clashed as the Targaryen's general led his men with spear in hand.

"Dornish barbarians! Die!"

At that moment, a tall, strong, bearded brute wielding a mace charged at Oberyn.

Stafford Lannister's expedition included not only Lannister soldiers but also the remaining noble forces of the Westerlands.

Iron Islands had become a ghost shadow, and Lannisport required no protection. They didn't need it.

The second son of the Earl of Hen Hall, nicknamed "Sturdy Boar" Ser Lyle Crakehall, charged at Oberyn. His large, strong figure was evident from his nickname.

Lyle Crakehall considered himself unmatched in bravery, a trait reflecting his family's motto 'Unmatched in Courage.' The family's emblem was a black and white wild boar on a brown field.

Though he had lost to Jorah Mormont of Bear Island in a tournament at Lannisport, Lyle blamed the bright sunlight that had blinded him in the charge.

Oberyn saw him coming, but his face showed no fear. He slightly licked his blood-stained lips, savoring the pungent taste of blood.

"Hmph."

With a cold smile, the Red Viper charged at Lyle.

"Kill!"

Lyle roared, and their weapons collided heavily.

*Clang—*

Oberyn felt a slight numbness in his hands, almost unseated from his horse, but his superb riding skill kept him mounted. His horse surged forward before turning to face Lyle again.

"Such strength."

"Sir 'Sturdy Boar' is indeed worthy of such a nickname."

Oberyn recognized his opponent, shaking his somewhat numb hand, still wearing a mocking smile.

Oberyn and his sister Elia had once visited Hen Hall in their youth, following their mother to the Westerlands for a betrothal. The memories brought back images of his innocent, lively sister.

The smile on the Prince of Dorne's face slowly faded, and the 'Sturdy Boar' had no interest in reminiscing with Oberyn.

Back then, when Oberyn and his sister were guests at Hen Hall, Lyle even wanted to propose to Elia. However, due to his physique, he faced Oberyn's poisonous ridicule, which had frustrated Lyle for a long time.

"Enough talk!"

Lyle Crakehall charged at Oberyn again with his mace, but this time Oberyn's smile disappeared, replaced by cold determination.

In the clash of their charging steeds, Oberyn showed no mercy. His long spear, like a hissing snake, effortlessly pierced Lyle Crakehall's throat, lifting his body high into the air before casting it to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

The Prince of Dorne easily killed the bravest of the Westerlands' warriors, the 'Sturdy Boar' on the battlefield. This act demoralized the Westerlands' troops.

Eventually, the Westerlands' army retreated to their camp, leaving the dead behind. The battle ceased temporarily, and the Targaryen army set up camp on a flat area by Red Lake's shore.

"Legion Commander!"

In the Targaryen camp, Oberyn, with the help of his squire, removed his blood-stained armor as a soldier hurriedly reported.

"Cornfield City has been captured by Count Evin Pasber. He inquires how to deal with the Swyft family."

"Kill."

Oberyn casually replied as he headed towards his tent.

"Yes."

The messenger quickly retreated to convey the order, and another officer approached to report.

"Commander."

"Our scouts have captured some prisoners in battle with the enemy. Perhaps they can be interrogated."

"You conduct the questioning. Tell me the results later."

"Yes, my lord."

The scouting officer also left, and the logistical officer stood to report.

"My lord, the logistics side—"

The Targaryen army's discipline was strict, and their regulations clear. Problems were addressed methodically, making them more efficient than the other armies of the Seven Kingdoms.

On the other side, the Westerlands' army, having retreated to their main camp after the battle.

Led by the army's commander, Stafford Lannister, and surrounded by a host of nobles and knights, they were a noisy, chaotic group, examining a letter from their cousin, Duke Tywin.

In the letter, Tywin urged his cousin to prioritize the defense of Hen Hall and then engage the Targaryen army.

If possible, avoid battle and wait for him to arrive.

Though not explicitly stated, the letter almost wrote Tywin's mistrust of Stafford's abilities on its face.

The central army's tent was somewhat chaotic, with nobles seated together.

"This..."

The plump Lannister army commander's face turned slightly awkward.

"Lord Tywin asks us to retreat. My lords... what shall we do?"

He looked around, seeking the opinions of the other nobles and knights.

Chapter 494: Retreat

"Lord Stevron!"

Within the grand tent, a middle-aged man with a touch of gray in his hair and a face marked with grief spoke up.

"My son was slain by those Dornish savages! You saw it! Everyone saw it!"

This was Lord Roland Crakehall of Cornfield. His second son, Lyle, had just fallen to Oberyn Martell in a brief skirmish.

Lord Roland's declaration brought a heavy silence to the tent. Nobles and knights exchanged uneasy glances, then bowed their heads, remaining silent. After all, the man had just lost his son, and any words at this moment might be taken as offense.

"Lord Roland..."

The portly commander, Stevron Lannister, looked uncomfortable, hesitating before he finally spoke. Although he had led troops into battle numerous times, showcasing a certain level of tactical acumen, his main adversaries were often just petty bandits or ironborn raiders.

Stevron had a clear flaw: he was indecisive.

In truth, had Tywin not been lacking trustworthy and available candidates, he might not have called upon Stevron. And every time Kevan and Genna thought of this, they knew how deep Tywin's disdain ran for Viserys.

Stevron's sister was Tywin's wife, Joanna. Stevron and Joanna shared a cousin in Tywin, and it was this tangled, blood-bound relationship that made Tywin value Stevron so highly.

"Lord Stevron..."

However, just as Stevron Lannister was about to speak, Lord Roland interrupted him. The gray-haired lord rose, his expression earnest and pleading as he looked around at all present.

"The Dornish brought merely twenty thousand men. We are no fewer in number," he said confidently, "And I know this terrain better than anyone."

"I have a strategy in mind, we can..."

The Targaryen and Lannister forces were at a standoff.

However, by the next dawn, a scout hurriedly reported.

"General..."

Oberyn was in the midst of freshening up. Shirtless, his deep brown skin and toned muscles were on display, while he wore sandy-colored trousers. He rinsed his mouth over a golden basin, then spat the water out.

"Prince..."

A scantily clad handmaiden approached with a towel, wiping the water droplets from his face. Her fingers lingered briefly on Oberyn's chest, and her eyes sparkled with a playful smile.

"Tonight..."

However, the handmaiden's words were cut short as she noticed the approaching soldier. She smiled again, gracefully picking up the basin and walking away.

In the Targaryen army, only Oberyn could keep female companions, whether they were lovers, handmaidens, or even fair-faced guards. This privilege had been earned through years of dedication.

Though Oberyn often indulged in physical pleasures, seeing them as divine gifts to humankind, he was clever enough not to let these distractions interfere with serious matters.

Knowing Oberyn's temperament, the handmaiden promptly left upon seeing the soldier. Oberyn appreciated her sensibility.

With a playful slap to the handmaiden's pert bottom, he watched her leave, then turned his attention to the soldier.

"Yes?"

The soldier hesitated. "My lord, the Lannister forces have retreated."

Oberyn's jovial expression faded. He wasn't particularly surprised; he had considered the possibility of the Lannisters avoiding a direct confrontation. He nodded, "Anything else?"

"No, my lord."

"Dismissed."

As the soldier exited, Oberyn's cheerful demeanor vanished entirely, replaced by a stern countenance. He knew he wasn't facing Lord Tywin Lannister directly.

Despite Oberyn's speed, he was sure that no matter how quickly Tywin moved, he couldn't outpace Oberyn's forces. Especially not in the mountainous terrain.

However, the Westerlands, while not the largest or most populous region, was undoubtedly the richest, with vast deposits of gold and silver. Rumor even had it that Tywin's excrement was golden.

With such wealth, the Westerlands could afford vast armies and superior weaponry. Oberyn, with just over twenty thousand men, felt strained in his campaign against the West.

But he had anticipated the current predicament. He knew the campaign wouldn't be easy.

Still, Oberyn was an optimist, never showing despair and always exuding confidence, which inspired his soldiers.

He had hoped the Lannister forces would meet him in open battle, giving him a chance to deal a significant blow.

His biggest fear was that Tywin would order all his forces to fortify within their castles, adopting a purely defensive strategy.

Lord Tywin, a seasoned commander, would surely recognize Oberyn's weakness. He wouldn't need to outwit Oberyn; merely remain unassailable and wait for Oberyn to expose his vulnerabilities.

"Damn it!"

Oberyn cursed, donning a sandy-colored cloak and exiting the tent.

"Summon the men!"

"We pursue!"

Chapter 495: Foiled Counterattack

The Lannister army leisurely dismantled their camp after waking from their daytime slumber, beginning a slow retreat.

Suspicious of subterfuge, the Targaryen forces did not immediately pursue. Instead, they observed from a distance. Only when they were certain the Lannisters were truly retreating did they hasten their chase, fearing the enemy might escape entirely.

However, in their pursuit, Prince Oberyn and his forces were led right into a trap. The edge of the Red Lake was ensnared by vast woods — the very place where the Children of the Forest once battled men.

"Now's the moment!"

"Strike down these invaders!"

Caught in the chase, the Targaryen army was ensnared by the Lannisters. The Lannister forces swiftly turned, war cries echoing from every direction.

A fierce battle ensued in the woods, and the Targaryens, outmaneuvered, were forced back to the brink of the Red Lake.

"Flee!"

"Run!"

The Targaryens even abandoned their main camp, which the Lannisters burnt to the ground. They fled far and fast.

The Lannister army, after a brief chase, retreated, securing their first victory since the war began at Twin River City.

The great Sir Stafford Lannister, having planned well in advance, led the Westerlands' soldiers to defeat the renowned Prince of Dorne.

As the day of fierce combat concluded, and the Targaryens were nowhere to be seen, night began to fall.

Inside the Lannister camp,

"Come!"

"Raise your glasses!"

"To honor General Stafford Lannister!"

A knight bearing the sigil of House Payne was the first to stand, leading a toast to Stafford.

"To Sir Stafford!"

The feast was lively. Westerlands' knights and nobles raised their glasses one by one. Only the scarred knight, Sandor "The Hound" Clegane, appeared disinterested. He raised his glass but drank alone.

Having repelled the mighty Targaryen force, the Lannisters naturally returned to their previous campsite. The camp was alive with celebration, and wine flowed freely.

Everyone but 'The Hound' Sandor Clegane raised their cups, cheering for Sir Stafford Lannister, the man who led them to victory.

Sir Stafford, a rotund figure, looked flushed and slightly intoxicated.

"Compose yourself!"

"Stafford, be sober!"

Even though he constantly reminded himself to remain calm since the war wasn't over and Oberyn was no easy foe, the intoxicating victory and the subsequent praises made it hard.

He had defeated the renowned Oberyn. The Targaryen army wasn't as invincible as it appeared. After this battle, it seemed Stafford's name would be uttered alongside great commanders like his cousin Tywin Lannister, Randyll Tarly, and King Robert.

"Ha! All of you flatter me."

"It's just a minor achievement."

Sir Stafford, donning the black and gold armor of House Lannister, loosened some straps, revealing the lining beneath. Beside him, his sword rested, and he stood, goblet in hand, finishing his drink, eliciting cheers from all.

Only Sandor Clegane scoffed, tearing a chunk from a lamb leg. He drank his strongwine, chewing voraciously.

Sir Stafford deduced that after this defeat, the Targaryens wouldn't retaliate soon. Their camp had been burnt.

The Lannisters celebrated. After all, an army without a camp was like a force without a home. Without a place for supplies and rest, morale would crumble.

Outside the Lannister camp, the Targaryen forces silently returned.

"Sir?"

A guard looked to Prince Oberyn, who, despite the day's setback, looked formidable in his armor, his eyes coldly fixated on the illuminated Lannister camp and the looming golden lion flag.

With just over 20,000 men against a larger, better-equipped Westerland army, there was no room for mistakes. But such high stakes only excited Oberyn.

"Annihilate them!"

A horn blew.

"Charge!"

Roars thundered outside the Lannister camp as countless Targaryen forces surged forth.

Chapter 496: Raid

"Attack!"

The sudden battle cries from all directions alarmed the Western nobles and knights who were in the midst of their merry revelry.

"What's happening?"

Although Stafford wasn't entirely inept, he had ordered his soldiers to intensify their patrols and maintain a strict defense prior to the feast. But the commanders, engrossed in the celebrations, set a poor example, making it hard for the soldiers to stay alert. Their visible victory over the Targaryen forces earlier that day, which sent the latter fleeing, had also fostered overconfidence.

The soldiers of this Lannister battalion, primarily new recruits and Lannisport's garrison, had never encountered White Walkers or the army of the dead, let alone dragons and the Dothraki. Initially, they were apprehensive of the famed Targaryen forces. But after their recent victory, the entire Lannister army, from commanders to foot soldiers, grew complacent.

Oberyn Martell seized this opportunity, feigning defeat to make the enemy underestimate the Targaryen forces. Stafford Lannister, buoyed by this small victory, didn't flee immediately. Now, Oberyn, informed by captured prisoners, knew he was facing Sir Stafford Lannister, Lord Tywin's older uncle.

"Who is this Sir Stafford Lannister?"

Oberyn had been puzzled upon first hearing the name, but prisoners soon informed him that Stafford was Tywin's elder uncle. Sir Stafford's most notable achievements were commanding a thousand Lannister soldiers to fend off Ironborn raiders on the Western shores and eradicating some local bandit groups. But true warfare was different from skirmishes with mere bandits.

Being able to lead tens of thousands without chaos marked a competent commander. Stafford's experience was limited to leading a couple of thousands, and leading twenty thousand was a whole different challenge. Oberyn, as a commander, found Stafford to be an easy adversary. He wouldn't miss this golden opportunity to annihilate over twenty thousand Lannister troops.

The ground trembled with the galloping of hooves and the air was filled with war cries as the Targaryen forces stormed the Lannister camp. Many Westerlanders were caught off guard, some still in slumber. Before they could don their armor or grab their swords, charging cavaliers slit their throats. Tents were upturned, and swords swung relentlessly.

"Attack!"

"Kill these scoundrels!"

"Kill Stafford Lannister!"

The shouts acted like cold water, sobering the drunken Western nobles and knights. The scene was chaotic: knocked over wine bottles, inebriated commanders, and a sense of dread.

"It's a disaster!"

"The Targaryens are back!"

Sandor 'The Hound' Clegane, amidst the chaos, was quick to react. Although he had indulged in wine, he wasn't completely inebriated. He abruptly stood up, overturning the table before him, thereby rousing the other drunken nobles, including the unconscious General Stafford Lannister.

"Damn it! We've been ambushed by the Targaryens!"

"Is this your grand victory?"

Despite his intoxication, The Hound's face was clear, his temper unchecked as he openly berated and mocked, "The great Sir Stafford Lannister? Just hearing about it nearly made me puke." He had grown weary of the baseless adulation for Stafford after a minor victory. The praises had elevated Stafford to the ranks of King Robert and Lord Tywin. The Hound unsheathed his massive sword and struck down a panicking Lannister soldier.

"Retreat! Everyone, fall back!"

The Westerlands' nobles and knights, in their confusion, hurriedly escorted the barely coherent Stafford Lannister away from the campsite.

"Order a retreat! All men, fall back!"

Stafford, now somewhat aware, realized the gravity of the situation. However, as the army's commander, he knew the ins and outs of warfare better than anyone, including the mocking 'Hound'. Stafford was aware that a single raid wouldn't annihilate the entire army. There was still a chance for redemption. He aimed to minimize losses, stabilize the troops, and then fall back to Hayford Hall. Losing Hayford would open up the path to Lannisport, and no matter how many heads he had, they wouldn't be enough to appease Lord Tywin's wrath.

Stafford quickly issued commands, rallying the troops. The Lannisters suffered heavy casualties and began retreating towards Hayford Hall. The Targaryen forces pursued them briefly before halting.

The Targaryen's sudden stop gave Stafford some relief, but a foreboding sense gripped him. "Why aren't they pursuing further?" he mused aloud, glancing at the dense woods around. But then, from inconspicuous locations, flickers of fire began to ignite.

Chapter 497: Fire at the Allied Camp

In the heart of this ancient and mystical forest, Oberyn Martell set ablaze a fire so fierce it could be seen throughout the Westerlands.

The roaring flames surged high, interspersed with green flames. Before leaving King's Landing, Oberyn had borrowed a few items from Viserys, confident they would aid him in taking the Westerlands.

Firstly, the fleet of the Iron Islands, led by Euron Greyjoy, who had pledged loyalty to Viserys. With the fall of the Iron Islands, Euron's fleet was the last bastion of the Ironborn. Viserys promised him the return of his homeland after the war.

The second was the wildfire hidden beneath King's Landing. The Golden Company found large stashes of wildfire in cellars upon their arrival, said to be left by Viserys' father, the 'Mad King' Aerys II. Though the wildfire was moved out of the city, Oberyn took much of it, deploying it in this battle.

Wildfire is highly volatile. Targaryen soldiers needed only to smash pots of it on the ground, igniting it as the panicked Westerlands soldiers fled into the woods. One pot of wildfire could quickly ignite others, and the ancient, sprawling forest served as kindling.

In mere moments, a world-consuming fire visible throughout the Westerlands took hold.

Billowing smoke darkened the skies, with flames illuminating the heavens, turning night to day.

The screams of Westerlands soldiers were chilling, akin to the sizzling of food at high heat, even exuding the aroma of burning flesh.

Oberyn, clad in a sandy-colored war robe, bore a sun-pierced spear sigil on his chest. He stood atop a nearby hill, the firelight reflecting on his weathered face, his dark eyes quietly observing the blaze.

"My Prince," a guardsman beside him couldn't bear to watch, especially as lives were consumed by the inferno. Yet Oberyn remained stoic.

"This fire has eradicated half the living forces of the Westerlands," he said, breaking the silence. "Over twenty thousand young lives, fathers, sons, and brothers. How will the Westerlands perceive me? Or rather… how will they view our dear Lord Tywin?"

Oberyn mused aloud, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "Let's go," he said, turning his horse away from the hill. He had seen enough.

"Make way!"

Not far off, a towering Westerlands knight emerged from the fiery chaos. Panicking, he killed several Lannister soldiers who blocked his path. But escaping the flames, he faced Targaryen soldiers. Although they struggled to subdue the frenzied knight, he was eventually captured, tied up — just a small episode in this war.

The Targaryen's surprise attack at midnight led to a fire that raged until the third night, finally quelled by torrential rain. The flames consumed an ancient forest, home to tales of the First Men battling the Children of the Forest, and over ten thousand Westerlands soldiers.

Many soldiers and nobles perished in the fire, while others were captured by the Targaryens, like Sandor Clegane. Only a few escaped.

They fled to the Poultry Hall, but Oberyn and his forces soon followed. The count of Poultry Hall and his eldest son had died in the fire, leaving the remaining Westerlands forces demoralized and unable to defend against the Targaryens.

In 293 AC, August, the world watched as Poultry Hall fell. Oberyn's forces had won the race against time, capturing the city first.

A soldier under Oberyn's command was the first to reach the battlements and was knighted. Tywin Lannister, arriving later, could only lament from outside the walls, having also heard of the decimation of over twenty thousand of his forces. The 'Red Viper' was cunning. He lured the Lannister forces, then struck like a predator, nearly causing Tywin to spit blood in rage.

Tywin's cousin and uncle by marriage, Ser Stafford Lannister, rising star of the Westerlands, either by luck or intentional mercy from the Targaryens, narrowly escaped the fire.

"Cousin, spare me!"

Now, Stafford knelt before Tywin, begging for mercy. Yet, the furious Tywin remained impassive. Even considering his late wife's memory, Tywin couldn't forgive Stafford. Many of those lost were related to the present nobles.

"I'll look after Daven," Tywin finally declared. With a wave of his hand, guards shoved Stafford, pale-faced, towards the gallows. A full corpse remained.

The surrounding Westerlands nobles and knights fell silent, the atmosphere oppressively tense. This defeat severely dampened their spirits. A young Lannister with golden hair and brown eyes, Daven Lannister, Stafford's son, could only watch helplessly as his father was sentenced.

News of Oberyn's victory at the Red Lake quickly reached King's Landing.

This was an epic battle that would be etched in history. Oberyn defeated the Lannister forces in just two days.

King's Landing rejoiced, celebrating the Targaryens' victory, as most despised the Lannister family.

Tyrion felt mixed emotions upon hearing the news, while for Cersei, it was a devastating blow. Her final pillar of support had crumbled.

Yet, Viserys was preoccupied. Time had flown, and after ten months, his queen, Princess Arianne of Dorne, was due to give birth.

Chapter 498: Daenerys Targaryen

The imminent birth of the Queen was the most significant event in the Red Keep.

Several months had passed since Viserys took the Iron Throne. This period had been a time of rest and recuperation for his soldiers. Endless wars would devastate Westeros' economy and the morale of its people.

Under Viserys's guidance, the Small Council had been drafting new decrees for the realm. But everything was postponed due to the Queen's impending childbirth. Even Viserys set aside his tasks.

He'd intended to journey beyond the Wall soon, seeking the Three-Eyed Raven's counsel and assessing the North, still under the grip of the Cold God's power.

When Viserys's mental power reached a certain threshold, he began to glimpse realms previously hidden from him. Once, Melisandre had sacrificed herself, and through the flames and her union with the Red Priestess, Viserys felt the power of the Lord of Light, witnessing realms only gods could see.

These intertwined powers still lingered, with the Cold God's influence hovering over the North, showing no signs of departure.

Melisandre prophesied that the White Walkers hadn't been truly defeated and might return in five years. The Small Council's lords scoffed at her words, but Viserys believed, having witnessed it himself, from a unique vantage point.

Viserys had planned to launch a second conquest war after the public trial of Robert and others. Yet, the Queen's early childbirth disrupted all his plans. The silver-haired young man, anxious, awaited outside the birthing room.

Childbirth in this era was perilous. Viserys's own mother died giving birth to Daenerys. But the Queen might fare better, with the best midwives in the Red Keep attending her.

The nobility and the council wished to wait outside, but Viserys refused them. Childbirth wasn't a political display. Arianne was his wife, and he wished for her to birth safely, undisturbed.

Only a select few waited with Viserys. Rhaenys, Arianne's cousin; the Sand Snakes, her closest friends; and her younger brother, Prince Quentyn Martell of Dorne.

Robb and Sansa Stark were present too. Robb, to Catelyn's wishes, now served as a squire to Viserys. Sansa, a lady-in-waiting to Queen Arianne. Even if a bit clumsy, such arrangements helped foster relations between nobles.

Robb, once the proud heir of Winterfell, now felt like an outcast. Especially after the North's fall, many pitied him. The young Stark, with wolf's blood in his veins, seethed in anger. Yet, Sansa adapted quicker, preferring the grandeur of King's Landing over Winterfell's cold.

Suddenly, a baby's cry echoed from the birthing room. The waiting crowd outside tensed.

A midwife emerged, joyfully declaring, "Congratulations, Your Grace. It's a princess."

News of Queen Arianne giving birth to Princess Daenerys spread, overshadowing even Oberyn's victory at Red Lake. The birth of an heir was a sign of stability, reassuring Viserys's followers.

The common folk, traders, and knights discussed the event. The most debated topic? The princess's name. Some suggested "Rhaenys" or "Naerys," but the name chosen was "Daenerys," resembling a mythical Moon Goddess.

A grand tourney was announced to celebrate Princess Daenerys's first name-day in a year. With a reward of ten thousand golden dragons, even commoners could participate.

Chapter 499: Beyond The Wall

Inside the Red Keep...

"Diana, my daughter."

It had been a few days since Arianne gave birth to Diana. After all these years in this world, Viserys finally became a father, embracing the joy of continuing his bloodline.

He playfully touched his daughter's tiny nose and quipped, "To welcome you, your uncle in the west lit a fire so vast that the entirety of the Westerlands could see."

Viserys was the last to receive this news because of Arianne's delivery.

He had just learned of the massive havoc caused by Oberyn.

Oberyn's inferno claimed the lives of tens of thousands. The Lannister army was obliterated. Diana was born just days after her uncle's monumental fire.

Indeed, Oberyn had given Diana a rather unique welcoming gift.

Such a grand entrance for this little one. What great storms might she stir in the future...

If she grows to be as bewitching as they say, she might be dubbed a "siren of doom."

However, these were just fleeting thoughts in Viserys's mind. He chuckled and lightly pinched his daughter's nose. Surely, he wouldn't wish for his daughter to be known by such a double-edged title?

Queen Arianne, recovering on her bed, appeared a tad pale. But upon seeing her peacefully sleeping daughter, she couldn't help but smile.

Especially entranced by Diana's soft silvery hair. Infants do have hair at birth, albeit short. Diana's eyes, a clear, bright purple, looked curiously at the world, albeit with the blurred vision of a newborn.

But by nature, she seemed to understand that the two figures before her were her parents, who would never harm her.

"Diana resembles you so much, Viserys," Arianne remarked, a hint of envy in her voice.

Diana was Arianne's child, but she bore few of her mother's features. Perhaps Viserys's bloodline was too dominant. Apart from a few facial features reminiscent of Arianne, resembling the exotic allure of the Dornish — the profound eye sockets and large eyes — her hair and eye color were distinctly from her father.

"She inherited more from me than just appearances," Viserys replied calmly, observing his tranquil daughter. His pale purple eyes shimmered.

He detected the seed of 'dark mist' within Diana. It seemed she had inherited it from him.

Yet, he was torn about whether or not to remove this 'seed' from his daughter. While its benefits were clear, its drawbacks remained elusive.

"I'm sorry, my love," Arianne whispered, "for not bearing you a son."

Hearing her husband's deep contemplation, she felt uneasy. She truly wished she could have given Viserys a prince. Though in Dorne, both princesses and princes have inheritance rights, Arianne knew better. Even in Dorne, with its progressive inheritance laws, it was difficult for a girl to inherit her father's legacy.

She was keenly aware of her father's preference for her younger brother, Quentyn Martell.

But now, Dorne's allure faded for her.

She yearned to give Viserys a son, a future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

"No, it's not your fault, Arianne," Viserys comforted, drawing her close. "Actually, I prefer daughters over those pesky boys. I was one once. I know how insufferably mischievous boys can be."

Arianne chuckled at Viserys's reassurance. She had feared he might resent her, knowing the importance of an heir for a king.

"But from what I've heard, you weren't a mischievous boy," she countered. "Even as a child, I was betrothed to you. My family often updated me about you. Everyone praised you as a rare prodigy."

Viserys just smiled and didn't elaborate. "I am grateful to you for gifting me a little princess," he said genuinely.

The room grew silent, Arianne's eyes glistening. Viserys held her tighter.

"When Diana grows older, we shall gift her a dragon," he mused. "Balerion, Meraxes, or perhaps Vhagar. But I bet Diana would choose that 'little lady'."

With the birth of Princess Diana and Viserys's lingering duties in King's Landing settled, he decided to address the Three-Eyed Raven matter before launching his second conquest.

He trusted Rego and Rhaenys to manage King's Landing. His Kingsguard, Mira, was with the queen and princess, ensuring their safety.

Days later, Viserys mounted Balerion and flew northward. He crossed the Riverlands, the Neck, and soared over the Bay of Claws.

The Riverlands, after months of rejuvenation, once again flourished with life, the scars of war fading. Yet, Viserys couldn't help but admire the resilience of humanity.

The Neck, once inhabited by the reclusive Crannogmen, now stood desolate. They had perished during the White Walkers' invasion.

Howland Reed, the chief of the Crannogmen, had mysteriously chosen to hang himself in Greywater Watch. His children disappeared without a trace.

Further south, the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, having repelled the White Walkers, plunged into civil wars, neglecting the ancient causeway across the Neck, leaving it in post-explosion disrepair.

A gust of wind roared past Viserys as Balerion glided through the clouds. Snowflakes began to drift around him.

Chapter 500: Winterfell

"The North remains unchanged."

Viserys, atop his dragon, felt the snowflakes falling around him. The biting cold wind pierced through his clothing, yet he felt no chill. His silver-gold hair fluttered in the breeze.

The Neck was the divider between the north and south of Westeros. South of the Neck was decidedly the south, while north of it was truly the North.

Most of the realm's inhabitants lived in the warmer south, for the North's harsh climate was inhospitable for crops and people alike.

Though it encompassed over half of Westeros, including the Land of Always Winter, the North was sparsely populated. Especially north of the Wall, closer to the Land of Always Winter than even the lands of the Thenns, it was nearly devoid of life.

In his spare time, Viserys had perused some of the books stored in the Red Keep, remnants from the Targaryen reign.

Books were neglected and even destroyed during the Baratheon era, lost to wars and neglect.

Robert had no care for these tomes, deeming them no better than rough paper for basest needs.

Viserys lamented the state of these works but managed to find some references to the Land of Always Winter.

A long time ago, a maester from the Citadel named Chield wrote "The King of Winter: Genealogy and Legends of House Stark of Winterfell." He theorized that the secrets of the White Walkers' origins lay hidden at the world's edge, waiting for humanity to discover.

Mounting Balerion, Viserys continued northward. As the moon rose and darkness deepened, they descended upon Winterfell.

The capital of the North, and a center of power, it was said to have stood for eight millennia.

Viserys's descent on his black dragon startled the 'natives'. The wights, unseen for so long, roared at the sky, only to be incinerated by Balerion's fierce dragonfire.

Splashing sounds echoed as Viserys dismounted. Winterfell seemed ravaged. Burn marks marred the walls, remnants of when Bran set a fire before leaping from them. Snow weighed heavily on rooftops, causing many to collapse, leaving ruins behind.

Perhaps in its eight-thousand-year history, Winterfell had never been so desolate. Its lords had fled to King's Landing, and apart from a few adventurers from the Free Cities, the North seemed abandoned, its life force extinguished. Even weeds failed to grow; only deep snow blanketed the ancient castle.

In the dim light, if not for Viserys's keen eyes and the map he consulted, he might not have recognized Winterfell from above.

"So this is the famed Winterfell."

"The origin of countless tales. I've always wished to see it, but never imagined it in this state."

The decay was poignant. Viserys felt his past imaginings of Winterfell's beauty shattered.

Now it was just ruins. And not particularly expansive, Balerion seemed a bit cramped.

Kneeling, Viserys lit a torch with flint and tinder. The light pushed back the darkness, revealing the devastation.

Most of the 'natives' had been turned to ash, but more wights might lurk.

Scattered wights still roamed the North, but their numbers had dwindled. The bulk seemed to have followed the Night King back to the Land of Always Winter.

Holding his torch aloft, Viserys ventured towards a tall tower.

"We'll rest here tonight, Balerion."

Balerion, tired from the day's journey, lay in one of the few spaces in Winterfell large enough for him and watched Viserys proceed, murmuring a low response.

They had departed from King's Landing the previous day, rested briefly in Riverrun, and then flew non-stop to Winterfell.

Balerion let out a rumbling growl, warning Viserys of potential danger, but Viserys simply waved him off.

Upon entering the tower, snow fell from above. The torchlight revealed its interior. It was a library, the Book Tower of Winterfell.

Viserys scanned the many bookshelves. Some held books, while others had collapsed, their precious contents scattered.

White Walkers didn't read, nor did they destroy for fun.

After a brief look around, Viserys exited.

"Legends say that during the Dance of the Dragons, Prince Jacaerys Valerion visited Winterfell on his dragon, Vermax, to discuss an alliance with Cregan Stark."

"Vermax supposedly laid an egg in the hot springs beneath Winterfell."

"Can you sense where it might be, Balerion?"

Balerion tilted his head, a confused expression on his draconic face.

Chapter 501: Beyond the Wall

"Oh?"

Without seeing the puzzled look on Balerion's dragon face, through the telepathic connection between human and dragon, Viserys knew that Balerion sensed nothing.

"The rumor that Winterfell possesses a dragon egg dates back to the time of Viserys I, during the Dance of the Dragons," Viserys declared, holding a torch aloft as he exited the library tower, then headed towards the position of Winterfell's main keep, speaking as he went.

Balerion was clever, its intelligence now comparable to a human adolescent, though it had grown so large and was not yet an adult.

Viserys liked to talk to it when idle; the human and dragon were partners and friends alike.

Through their telepathic bond, Balerion could understand Viserys's words and record this knowledge, accumulating the wisdom that a long-lived dragon might possess.

Viserys had read about the dragon egg rumor in the Red Keep's library, and thanks to his powerful mental faculties, he could remember everything he saw or heard, even if he did not pay close attention.

"There was a fool in the Red Keep at that time, named 'Mushroom'. Ah yes, he was a dwarf," Viserys began, his voice echoing in the silent Winterfell. Seeing Balerion's confusion over this term, he explained, "Tyrion, whom you've met. The small one."

Balerion understood human names and, upon hearing Viserys's explanation, seemed enlightened, as Tyrion had left a slight impression on him.

Humans looked like 'little beans' to it, and Tyrion, upon first meeting, astonished Balerion as a 'little bean among little beans', and not a human child but an adult.

For some reason, animals distinguish clearly between human children and adults, perhaps children's eyes are purer.

"This Mushroom, a dwarf just three feet tall with an oversized head, claimed a remarkable memory but was considered a fool in the Red Keep, witnessing many conspiracies," Viserys continued.

"Later, his words were recorded, revealing many royal secrets never heard before, in a book called 'Mushroom's Testimony'."

"The rumor that Vermithrax laid one or more dragon eggs in Winterfell originated here, though unconfirmed to this day."

"However, 'Mushroom's Testimony' is filled with sensual stories among royals and nobles, exaggeratedly presented, and much has been proven false."

"Archmaester Gyldayn of the Citadel, author of 'Blood and Fire', 'The Princess and the Queen', 'The Rogue Prince', 'Sons of the Dragon', quoted this dwarf, thinking him a liar."

"Because Vermithrax was a male dragon."

Viserys couldn't help but laugh at this; Balerion was a male dragon too, and if anyone tried to force it to lay eggs, Balerion would likely bite them dead.

Now, Viserys had pushed open the doors of Winterfell's main keep, a sturdy structure with its roof intact despite the heavy snow, though the inside was in disarray, still bearing the signs of battle.

Suddenly, a shadow on the window sill above his head pounced, blue eyes glaring, mouth open in a sharp cry, aiming for Viserys's throat.

"Hmm?"

But Viserys was quick, dodging easily, his pale violet eyes fixing on the attacker.

Another shadow screamed, lunging from behind him.

More than one shadow hid within the keep!

But then, the first attacker howled, striking the second, clawing off its head.

Splash—

Then it tore off its own head, scattering into a pile of broken bones.

These were wights, their bodies dead long ago, their last remnants of the Others' magic extinguished by Viserys's hand.

But strangely, this wight had remained silent, even attempting to ambush Viserys from behind.

Or perhaps it was trapped in Winterfell's main keep and had been unable to leave until Viserys had opened the door, startling it.

At this moment, Balerion, lying in the square outside the main keep, emitted a deep roar, and Viserys, feeling the dragon's intent, paused in thought.

"You mean there may have been a dragon egg here, but now it has vanished?"

A dragon's essence could linger in a place for a long time, decades or centuries. This magical trace, imperceptible to humans, could be sensed by dragons if they tried.

Thus, every long-lived dragon was a living history.

Winterfell's existence spanned the long history of Westeros, and many famous historical events bore its shadow.

Viserys did not know which dragon egg might have been stored in Winterfell, whether it was truly Vermithrax's, or Meraxes's, or Rhaenys's, or Prince Maelor's lost egg.

But who had taken it later?

The Targaryens had lost too many dragon eggs, now scattered to unknown corners of the world.

But Winterfell's secrets might unravel when Viserys returned with his army; he had no time to dig into them now.

He visited Winterfell's crypts, finding only deep pits where once the lords had lain, now vanished.

Viserys found a relatively clean room in Winterfell to rest for the night, and he and Balerion set out again the next morning.

They flew over the vast Wolfswood, over towering ridges, and finally crossed the majestic Wall.

At that moment, the branch of the heart tree in Viserys's arms burst into golden light.

The silver-haired youth took it out, and the branch of the heart tree ignited, scattering into countless golden sparks.

The heart tree had shown him the way to find the Three-Eyed Raven, and through these sparks, Viserys saw a scene.

An endless army of the dead was besieging an ancient tree.

Chapter 502: Rescue of the Ancient Tree

"Oh?"

Viserys was momentarily stunned by the fleeting image before him, but he soon felt the urgent emotions emanating from the specks of light on the other side.

"The Night King is laying siege to the Three-Eyed Raven?"

Viserys suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu, as if he had seen this scene before. It seemed that the Night King harbored a deep-seated hatred for 'Bloodraven' Brynden Rivers, or more accurately, the old gods' power behind him, and was determined to kill him.

"No wonder he was so eager to summon me here. It seems he had already foreseen this scene."

The old gods possessed the ability to traverse the past and glimpse a bit of the future.

Perhaps they had already calculated that the White Walkers would find him, or even that Viserys, upon receiving the plea for help, would not set out immediately. Instead, he would arrive outside the Wall at the precise moment when the situation was most perilous.

The urgency in the Three-Eyed Raven's voice was because Viserys, while traversing future timelines, had countless possible arrival points, all too delicate. If he was even a moment late, he might meet an untimely death.

"How mysterious the abilities of the old gods are."

But one thing he had calculated was that Viserys would not stand by and watch him die. Although he was somewhat wary of the old gods' power, his first impressions of the Three-Eyed Raven were not that of a villain but rather someone who actively embraced justice.

Of course, in this world, heroes and villains, justice and evil, are all relative. Some fight for ideals, others for ambition, and some merely wish to protect their families.

Riding atop his dragon, the silver-haired youth received the Three-Eyed Raven's call for help and pondered for a moment but did not hesitate.

"Let's go."

"Balerion."

He touched the saddle ring on the dragon's back and, guided by the Three-Eyed Raven, directed Balerion to fly him over.

Whoosh~

The howling gale roared in his ears, and goose-feather-like snow continually drifted down from the sky.

The location of the heart tree seemed to be a very peculiar special domain, difficult for ordinary people to explore, and it connected to this vast land, constantly shifting, its position not fixed.

It was precisely because of this that the Night King had expended much effort in finding the Three-Eyed Raven, finally locating him through some mysterious connection.

Viserys rode the massive dragon, flying over the ghostly forest filled with cold-resistant plants. He faintly remembered a wildling named Craster who had built a 'fortress' here, but it was too small for Viserys to recognize from the sky.

Next, the black dragon carried him over the Fist of the First Men. Since crossing the Wall, Balerion had become somewhat cautious.

Dragons were extremely sensitive to the presence of magic. Crossing the Wall into the lands beyond, Balerion seemed to sense an inexplicable threat, forcing this sky-dominating creature to become more careful.

The world beyond the Wall concealed astonishing secrets. According to ancient Valyrian prophecies, Westeros harbored a crisis that could destroy the world. This had prevented the Dragon Kings from venturing into this land, stopping only at Dragonstone.

But after Balerion crossed the Fist of the First Men, the world before them suddenly opened up.

This towering mountain range stood tall and majestic, covered with unmelting snow for years on end. This was the Frostfangs, leading to the Frozen Shore, and even the legendary Land of Always Winter, where no one could tread.

But now, the mountains were swarming with an army of the dead. These wights, who had twice battled human forces at the banks of the Green Fork and been repelled, had retreated north of the Neck. Unexpectedly, they were all gathered here.

They were besieging a towering, golden, radiant ancient tree. The tree's branches shook, scattering golden sparks that prevented the wight army from approaching easily.

And Viserys, in the sky, saw this heart tree at a glance, despite the blinding snowflakes.

"It's there."

Logically, such a dazzling heart tree, growing atop a snow-covered mountain ridge, should have been extremely conspicuous, visible from miles away.

Yet, the wildlings who lived here year-round had rarely seen this sacred tree. The Night King, leading tens of thousands of wights, had searched the lands beyond the Wall far and wide before reluctantly finding its trace.

And on the ground,

The Night King, wearing an icy crown, seemed to hear the roar of the dragon in the sky.

He suddenly looked south, his eyes burning with ice-blue flames.

His ice crown had been damaged in the last battle with Viserys but had been repaired beyond the Wall. However, upon closer inspection, it still bore numerous tiny cracks. It seemed the Night King had not fully repaired it yet.

"Roar—"

Then, a roar that resounded through the heavens came from the white snow.

Balerion's eyes glowed a fiery red, and its massive black body emerged from the clouds and snow. Its scales reflected the light, and it opened its mouth wide. A dazzling light ignited in its throat, and dragonfire poured down.

Balerion still held a grudge. It immediately fixed its gaze on its old adversary.

This was the only creature that could remain unscathed under its dragonfire, and its abilities made the dragon wary.

Boom—

The surging dragonfire engulfed the ground, instantly reducing the wights attacking the heart tree to ash.

The golden heart tree continued to sway its branches, shedding golden sparks to protect itself, seemingly trembling in fear that Balerion might accidentally set it aflame.

After all, no wood was unafraid of fire, no matter how mystical the ancient heart tree might be.

"Thank goodness!"

"We're saved!"

Beneath the golden ancient heart tree, a petite girl with large ears, deer-like deep brown skin, and wrapped in leafy clothing, cheered and jumped with joy.

Her voice was sweet and high-pitched, with a special rhythm. Her extraordinary eyes, a fusion of gold and green, were long and narrow like a cat's.

Her brown, red, and golden hair was tangled, filled with grapevines, small branches, and withered flowers.

Her companion, another girl who resembled her, looked bewildered at her words but turned her eyes to the dragon in the sky, her eyes filled with terror.

Like the fish fears the hook, she feared the fire, afraid that it might burn their home.

Chapter 503: Children of the Forest

Whoosh~

The dragon's fire subsided, and vast swaths of wights turned to ash. Balerion's massive body still circled in the sky, letting out a roar.

The Night King, standing on the ground, lifted his head to gaze at the dragon in the sky. His eyes burned with ice-blue flames, but his face remained calm, showing neither resentment nor discouragement.

The Night King's fingers clenched slightly, and he let out a screech like ice cracking, which instantly resonated across the entire battlefield.

Whirr, whirr—

The army of wights ceased their attack and began to retreat slowly.

The Night King could not overcome the dragon rider before him, even on his own turf.

Viserys, likewise, could not slay his opponent. Both sides stepping back became the optimal solution; otherwise, further fighting would merely increase their losses without any gain.

Viserys's arrival had lifted the siege on the ancient heart tree. As the wights retreated, Viserys sat on the dragon's back, watching the Night King vanish into the snowstorm without a word. The two exchanged a silent greeting, like old friends with perfect understanding.

The handsome silver-haired youth then looked down and descended from the sky on his dragon.

Boom—

The dragon's huge body landed heavily on the ground, stirring up scorched ash and thick snowflakes.

The Frostfangs had accumulated thick layers of ice and snow, and the dragon's fire had not completely melted it all at once.

Thump—

Viserys jumped down from the dragon's back, his boots landing on the soft snow and ash. He brushed the snow off his clothes.

Although the wights had retreated, the snowstorm they brought had not yet fully dissipated. The biting cold wind howled, and the young man's silver-gold hair fluttered in the wind.

"What a large tree."

"It must have become sentient, hasn't it?"

Viserys looked up at the golden heart tree. He had already sensed its vastness when he hovered above, but now, standing on the ground and looking up, the overwhelming pressure became more intense.

The ancient heart tree's twisted roots gripped the earth, merging with the snow mountain, its luxuriant branches swaying in the wind, and golden leaves sprinkling light as if welcoming Viserys's arrival.

At that moment, two figures resembling human 'girls' but slightly peculiar, stood under the tree. One with snow-white hair looked tense, and seeing Viserys's gaze upon them, she attacked without hesitation.

"Ha!"

She uttered a strange spell, and a lightning ball formed in her palm. Lightning raged within, leaking through her fingers, and she hurled it at Viserys.

"Hmm?"

Viserys's eyes narrowed.

Clang—

He drew his sword, Dawn, and shattered the lightning ball. It exploded in mid-air, turning into wandering electric sparks, vanishing without a trace.

Balerion, lying behind Viserys, saw this and raised its massive head slightly, letting out a deep roar, filled with a dangerous aura.

"Hiss—"

It opened its mouth wide, and a dazzling light began to gather in its throat.

Since the other side had attacked Viserys, they were considered enemies. Balerion was about to burn the two creatures and the large tree with dragonfire, but Viserys raised his hand and stopped it.

"Balerion."

Viserys spoke. He stopped Balerion from burning the two little creatures, then turned to look at them.

"Children of the Forest?"

The silver-haired youth, wearing a black cloak with silver-gold hair freely scattered over his shoulders, put his sword back into its sheath and looked at the two with interest.

They were shorter than regular humans, with dark chestnut skin, large ears, and golden eyes.

If Viserys's guess was correct, these must be the legendary Children of the Forest, once mentioned in books.

They were once the masters of Westeros, but over thousands of years, the former rulers of this land had nearly become extinct.

Now the two Children of the Forest were arguing, with the one with multicolored hair and little flowers scolding the white-haired girl who had attacked Viserys.

She spoke rapidly in a language Viserys didn't understand, different from High Valyrian, the Common Tongue, Dothraki, and the ancient language of the Giants. Although Viserys knew four languages, he couldn't understand what the two Children of the Forest were saying.

The white-haired girl looked sullen as she was scolded by her sister, pouting and hanging her head in silence.

After the multicolored-haired Child of the Forest finished speaking, she turned to look at Viserys.

Her eyes, a fusion of gold and green, were long and narrow like a cat's.

"We speak the Old Tongue."

"This is the unique language of the Children of the Forest, which we use to sing praises to the earth, noble guest."

The Child of the Forest suddenly switched to fluent Common Tongue.

"My name is Leaf."

Leaf extended a hand, covered with a faint layer of fuzz and only three fingers, the thumb replaced by a sharp black claw.

Viserys, hearing her speak in the Common Tongue and extending a hand, hesitated momentarily, then shook her hand.

"I traveled to your human world when I was very young and learned your language and customs."

"I have seen this big fellow before, though it wasn't very friendly," she said, nodding at Balerion, who lay nearby, emitting heat and melting a patch of snow.

"Very young?"

Viserys, hearing Leaf's words, suddenly had an uneasy feeling.

"How old are you now?"

"Two hundred years."

...

A Child of the Forest who had lived for two hundred years but possessed a human girl's sweet voice, combined with the dragon behind him, made Viserys feel that humans were truly insignificant creatures in this world.

"Come with me, guest."

"He has been waiting for you for a long time."

Leaf then said, leading Viserys into a cave beneath the heart tree.

The other white-haired Child of the Forest followed them but remained silent, seemingly unable to speak the human language.

Chapter 504: The Three-Eyed Raven

"Welcome, traveler from another world."

Viserys, accompanied by the Child of the Forest named Leaf and a young girl, entered the cave beneath the heart tree.

The ancient figure, entwined and ensnared by the roots of the heart tree, gazed at Viserys and abruptly spoke. He had pale hair and a blood-red solitary eye. His entire form melded with the roots of the heart tree, his attire tattered, his frame skeletal, resembling a corpse. A dark red birthmark covered his neck and cheek.

The heart tree's roots penetrated his thighs, emerging again from his shoulders. Dark red leaves grew upon his bones, and gray mushrooms settled on his forehead. A slender root drilled from his other vacant eye socket, crawling down his cheek and piercing into his neck.

He was the 'Last Greenseer', known as 'Brynden Rivers' or the 'Three-Eyed Raven'.

Upon hearing the elder's words, Viserys tensed slightly but displayed neither panic nor denial, and responded with a calm inquiry. Many suspicions started to form in his mind.

"Do you recognize me?"

His true origin had always remained an enigma, known only to him.

If anyone in this world could discern his essence, it would likely be the Three-Eyed Raven. After all, the Raven wielded the power of the Old Gods, freely traversing the past and occasionally glimpsing potential futures.

Perhaps Brynden Rivers once prophesied about Viserys, the last heir of House Targaryen at the time. Though Rivers, as the 'noble bastard' of the Targaryens, had forsaken his past identity, the blood coursing through him still connected him to the kingdom's fate.

"No, I do not know you," the Raven rasped, shaking his head. "Nor do I understand what you truly are."

"But I am certain you are not the Viserys I foresaw."

"I've seen the future of Viserys. Pitiable, foolish, and cruel."

The destiny of that Viserys was as a beggar king, struggling amidst the noble houses of the Free Cities, even selling his mother's crown. Such stark contrasts shaped the future Viserys into a warped individual, far from the current figure forging a new nation and ascending the Iron Throne.

The Three-Eyed Raven's voice echoed within the cavern.

The white-haired Child of the Forest girl didn't comprehend their exchange and stood silently, while Leaf, who once roamed the human world, looked at Viserys with astonishment. Although she didn't fully understand, she gathered from the Raven's assertion that 'he is not him', and Viserys' lack of denial, that something was amiss.

Who could he be, then?

Despite her two centuries of life, Leaf's limited contact with the outer world left her naive. Her thoughts raced, but she couldn't fathom their discourse.

"What should I call you?" the Raven asked.

"Viserys will do," the silver-haired youth replied, a hand resting on his sword hilt. He then turned the conversation, "Did you send for me?"

"Yes, it was me," the elder nodded, his voice weary.

"Why?"

"My time grows short."

"What?"

Viserys furrowed his brows. In his view, the Raven's ability to evade the Night King for so long was commendable.

"Why not escape while you can?"

"The God's power can reach every corner of the world, but its vessel can't venture far from beyond the Wall," the Raven intoned, seemingly understanding Viserys' thoughts. "The entity within this heart tree, or weirwood as some call it, may be an Old God. No one truly knows. But my power stems from it."

Chapter 505: The Secret of the Three-Eyed Raven

In response to the Three-Eyed Raven's gesture, the Children of the Forest maiden, Leaf, went outside to fetch what appeared to be a 'stool.'

However, it was actually the stump of a long-dead tree.

The Children of the Forest are the finest of conservationists. They never lightly harm the trees of the primeval forests; instead, they zealously protect them, for these woods are their very homes.

"Please, sit."

Leaf brought a stool over for Viserys, who, out of habit, politely uttered his thanks. This surprised the maiden, causing her to blink in astonishment.

"I had heard that human kings never give thanks."

"Who told you that?"

"While I journeyed through Westeros, a human farmer."

Hearing this, Viserys couldn't help but shake his head.

"That farmer also believes kings plow their fields with golden hoes and can consume three pies a day."

"And what's the truth of it?"

With pure, innocent eyes, the maiden from the Forest sat cross-legged beside Viserys, her curiosity evident.

The innocence radiating from Leaf was unlike anything Viserys, accustomed to the deceptions of King's Landing, Braavos, and Pentos, had ever seen. He was taken aback, a sentiment arose in him, a reluctance to deceive her.

"In truth, human kings don't plow their own fields, especially not with golden hoes."

"Perhaps to a farmer, being able to eat three pies a day is a great delight."

"But for a king, there are many foods far more luxurious and nutritious than pies. And even when a king eats a pie, it differs greatly from that of a farmer's."

Viserys patiently explained to the maiden.

"So, what do kings eat?"

"Well, there's so much: roasted lamb? Honeyed chicken? Mint stewed snake? Cheese-baked snails?"

After some thought, the silver-haired youth listed a few examples.

"As for pies, kings might choose pigeon pie or lamprey pie."

"Pork pie?"

"Ah, uncastrated pork can be a bit gamey. To be honest, I used to love pork, but not so much now."

Viserys and Leaf, one tall and one small, sat beside each other, chatting.

Nearby, another maiden with snow-white hair of the Children of the Forest brought a cup made from leaves, filled with spring water, and offered it to Viserys.

Knowing she didn't speak the Common Tongue, Viserys asked Leaf her name. However, Leaf replied that in the Common Tongue, her name would be long.

After a quick glance at her companion with the distinct snow-white hair, Leaf suggested Viserys call her 'Snow-Hair.'

The Children of the Forest are inherently 'shy'. They fear humans, but for some reason, the silver-haired youth seemed to emit a unique aura that temporarily dissolved Leaf and Snow-Hair's apprehensions.

The Three-Eyed Raven, bound to the weirwood roots, observing the lively conversation below, especially noting Viserys's shimmering pale purple eyes, finally cleared his throat.

"Ahem."

Yet, his initial attempt to garner attention failed. He had to cough more forcefully to get the trio's notice.

"Are you alright?"

Leaf hurriedly rose, fearing the Last Greenseer had taken ill.

Human bodies are indeed frail, living such short spans. A simple ailment might claim their lives.

"I'm fine."

Brynden Rivers, with his voice bearing the weight of time, masked his own frustration. His sole eye settled on Viserys.

"Let's discuss serious matters, Viserys."

Brynden then began to narrate his past.

Known to many as Brynden Rivers, with Targaryen blood flowing in him, he had a life of tumultuous ups and downs. He vied for a woman's affections with 'Bittersteel' Aegor Rivers, later joining the Night's Watch and becoming its Lord Commander before vanishing.

This much was known by all about Brynden Rivers.

However, what Brynden now shared with Viserys were the events that transpired after his mysterious disappearance beyond the Wall.

Details known to none.

Once, as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, during an expedition with his rangers, a mutiny erupted. He managed to break free, killing many, but eventually succumbed to his injuries, passing out.

When he next woke, he found himself saved by the Child of the Forest, Leaf.

As their conversation reached this point, Brynden turned to gaze at Leaf, who nodded in confirmation.

Indeed, she was the one who had rescued him.

Yet, the Children of the Forest, in general, held no fondness for humans. Without the hidden power in Viserys's gaze, Brynden would not have made the same impact.

However, the reason Leaf chose to save him was at the behest of the previous Greenseer.

The previous Greenseer, also a Child of the Forest with green eyes, saw through the weirwood's magic the future. Knowing his end was near and that the weirwood had chosen its next successor.

Thus, on the Greenseer's instructions, Leaf saved Brynden.

He was the chosen successor due to his extraordinary talent. Even during his time as the Hand of the King, he had dabbled in dark sorceries, a testament to his innate abilities.

For these unique talents, he was chosen.

The Greenseer then asked Brynden about his own wishes, whether he desired to become the next Greenseer.

Brynden agreed, and Snow-Hair brought forth a bowl of weirwood seed paste.

This paste, crafted from weirwood seeds, its sap, and even the blood of the Children of the Forest, possessed magical properties, designed to awaken Brynden's dormant gifts.

From then on, Brynden Rivers became the next Greenseer.

"The Others are on the verge of destroying the weirwoods. My life nears its end."

The elder's voice, filled with eons of wisdom, spoke as Brynden Rivers, born in 175 AC, now 118 years old, acknowledged his impending end.

"Viserys."

"You are the chosen successor. Are you ready to become the next Three-Eyed Raven?"

Chapter 506: Negotiations

Upon the conclusion of Brynden Rivers' statement, two Children of the Forest glanced apprehensively at Viserys.

Leaf, using the ancient tongue, conveyed the substance of their discussion to Jon Snow.

The weirwoods are targeted by the White Walkers. The last of the greenseers is nearing his end. Without Viserys to accept this heritage, the power of the weirwoods will fade with the Children of the Forest, lost to the annals of history.

Viserys, upon hearing Brynden Rivers' words, showed a faint furrow of his brow, taken aback by the candid revelation of Brynden's intentions.

Yet, he is not Bran, an easily influenced boy. He can walk and fly.

"Why choose me?" Viserys asked after a moment's pause, his silver-gold hair cascading down.

"It was not I who chose you, but the Old Gods," the white-haired old man, ensnared by tree roots, responded with a deep, aged voice.

At that moment, a raven, jet-black with a singular crimson eye on its forehead, flew in.

Flap. Flap.

The Three-eyed raven landed on a twisted root of the weirwood and tilted its head to regard Viserys, then preened its feathers with its beak.

Viserys turned to regard the raven briefly. Their gazes met and then shifted away.

Brynden Rivers observed Viserys' unflappable demeanor. He hesitated before continuing, "Your psychic capabilities are truly astonishing, Viserys."

His voice, thick with awe, revealed that his own psychic power paled in comparison to Viserys', akin to a stream facing an ocean.

Brynden Rivers was indeed chosen by the weirwood for his unique abilities and became the Three-eyed raven. Without the tree's power, he couldn't contest Viserys' prowess.

He had sent Viserys a branch of the heart tree via Bran Stark, embedding his psychic essence within, intending to invade Viserys' dreams using the branch.

A technique known as "Dreamwalking."

The Three-eyed raven excelled at such mysterious arts. However, in this psychic battle, he was decisively defeated.

Viserys' psychic strength was immense, yet he wielded it unknowingly, like a child with a Valyrian steel sword.

He was unprepared for the Three-eyed raven's intrusion.

Still, when Brynden Rivers attempted to discern Viserys' origins, he was utterly crushed.

Like an insect challenging a tree or a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

Even in slumber, Viserys' unconscious defense overwhelmed the raven's psychic attack.

Initially, the Three-eyed raven doubted Viserys, suspecting a wizard, an eastern sorcerer, or even a waning deity behind him.

However, glimpsing the sprawling, kaleidoscopic cities in Viserys' dream, he realized his grave misjudgment and lack of imagination.

"Your psychic power is immense; hence the Old Gods chose you," the aged man asserted, trying to stay alert, "But Bran Stark seemed a suitable candidate for the Three-eyed raven too. Why not him?"

Viserys contemplated and then inquired. The elderly man's serene face showed signs of surprise.

"That Stark boy?" He confirmed, "Yes, he had the innate talent, an exceptional psychic power. But compared to you, he's lacking."

"Without you, he might've been the best successor."

The old man's justification seemed valid. The Old Gods' choice for the next greenseer depended on psychic strength.

Bran was talented, yet he couldn't match Viserys. The heart trees favored Viserys.

...

"I am the king of the world of men," Viserys declared after pondering Brynden Rivers' reasoning.

"I hold supreme power," he continued, emphasizing his status, wealth, beauty, and military might.

"What benefits and responsibilities come with being the next Three-eyed raven?"

Given Brynden's openness, Viserys sought clarity.

Being a king, with endless luxuries, why would anyone choose to become a tree?

Considering the Three-eyed raven's plight, trapped by roots, Viserys was repulsed.

However, Brynden Rivers, having lived over a century, was no stranger to negotiations.

"I understand your reservations. As the Three-eyed raven, you needn't stay here," he began, "The weirwoods will fall to the White Walkers, but it's a double-edged sword."

"With the fall of the weirwoods, the power of the Old Gods will be unleashed," his voice raspy with age.

"You can return to your kingdom with the Old Gods' power and reign as king," he proposed.

"You needn't endure like I did, imprisoned by roots, hiding from White Walkers."

"You won't spare them anyway, will you?" he added, suggesting Viserys would confront the White Walkers.

"Becoming the Three-eyed raven... they'll seek you. Together with your dragons, you can vanquish them, guarding the entire world."

Chapter 507: Trap

"Night is coming, and my watch begins now."

"I am the sword in the darkness, the guardian on the Wall."

"I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, this night and all nights to come."

Under the heart tree with drifting snowflakes, the Night's Watch oath resounds.

Since Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms, an unprecedented two hundred new recruits have joined the Night's Watch.

And most of them come from the kingdom's elite forces, many made up of the Raven's Teeth soldiers.

Their mission is to escort a noble to this place.

It is the honorable Maester Aemon, who could have been king but declined and renounced his surname.

With him is a criminal, the former Hand of Kings Aerys I and Maekar I, 'Bloodraven' Brynden Rivers. He was dismissed and sentenced to death by King Aegon V for his plot against Daemon Blackfyre.

The world before Viserys changed.

He was just in a conversation, but suddenly found himself here. Yet, Viserys was calm. He looked around, taking in his surroundings.

He knew the Three-Eyed Raven had the power to traverse time, but even with Viserys' extensive historical knowledge, he couldn't identify the era.

However, with his exceptional memory, noticing the two hundred plus Night's Watch recruits, he spotted two familiar faces, as if he had seen them somewhere.

Before Viserys could identify these two, an old voice sounded from behind him.

"That man is me."

"The oldest in the group."

In the blinding snowstorm, the silver-haired youth standing in front of the weirwood turned slightly to look behind him.

On a nearby branch, a raven with shimmering crimson eyes groomed its feathers, gazing at Viserys.

This scene seemed familiar.

Viserys recalled a conversation with Brynden Rivers in a cave, interrupted by a Three-Eyed Raven landing nearby.

"Was I ensnared at that moment?"

The silver-haired youth silently gazed at the raven before speaking.

He then turned to see an old man in a black robe with white hair, looking at him with dim eyes.

"Indeed, you weren't careful, Viserys."

"Though my psychic abilities are not as strong as yours, with the weirwood, I can bring you here."

The two hundred Night's Watch recruits finished their oaths and dispersed.

Among them, the elderly Brynden Rivers, once the Hand to two kings, was sent to the Wall at fifty-eight.

Another, with silver hair resembling Maester Aemon, was a younger Aemon, now just thirty-five. It's hard to imagine his long tenure at the Wall.

These elite soldiers and prisoners, even the young Aemon, seemed oblivious to the two in the snow.

Only the 'young' Brynden Rivers sensed something, staring at an empty patch of snow where Viserys and the raven stood.

Bloodraven's psychic strength was potent, sensing something amiss. To others, he seemed lost in thought.

Perhaps struggling with the reality of becoming a Night's Watch recruit.

A member of the Raven's Teeth, once under Brynden's command, approached to console him.

…

"You don't seem too surprised?"

Not far, where Brynden had been looking, the Three-Eyed Raven curiously addressed the composed silver-haired youth.

"You anticipated this?"

The old man studied Viserys, narrowing his eyes.

There were two possibilities for his calmness. He either anticipated it or was confident in returning.

"Are you Brynden Rivers?"

Viserys, instead of answering, posed a question.

The old man, here not entangled by roots but a mobile person, was in his realm. His appearance could change, even to a weirwood.

The raven nodded in confirmation.

"I am."

"The last greenseer nears his end, passing the Old Gods' power to a human."

"The future Three-Eyed Raven will pass his abilities to a boy."

"Will you use the same methods on Bran Stark?"

Viserys spoke calmly. The raven didn't confirm or deny.

Viserys had read about Bloodraven, a man not simple or kind-hearted, feared by foes.

"How many eyes does Bloodraven have? A thousand, and one."

Bran, after inheriting the Three-Eyed Raven's legacy, changed dramatically. It wasn't hard to deduce why.

Chapter 508: Traveling to the Past

"You don't belong in this world, Viserys."

"You shouldn't have come here."

The Three-Eyed Raven finally revealed his true intentions; this was a trap set specifically for Viserys.

"I've noticed you since long ago when you were just a child."

As the elderly man with white hair spoke, the world before Viserys drastically shifted, the snow that filled his vision disappeared.

In its place, a lush forest emerged, with a refreshing spring breeze, vibrant greenery, and grass and flowers releasing their fragrances.

A young man, donned in soft armor with a longsword by his waist and silver hair, handsome features, held a boy with similar silver-gold hair, obviously siblings.

They rode a white warhorse, leisurely strolling through the Kingswood.

"Is that Rhaegar?"

Upon seeing the brooding and handsome youth and the boy on horseback, Viserys instantly recognized them.

The boy was himself, and the young man holding him was his elder brother, Rhaegar.

Viserys still remembered this moment vividly.

"Yes. The year is 281 AC, right at the beginning of the 'False Spring,' before the Tourney at Harrenhal."

"People mistakenly believed winter was over, and the royal family in King's Landing decided to host a spring hunt."

Standing beside Viserys, the Three-Eyed Raven watched as the two Targaryen brothers passed by on their horse.

During this spring hunt, which the King's Landing nobility participated in, King Aerys II chose not to attend due to health reasons.

However, he sent the popular Crown Prince Rhaegar, who brought along his young brother Viserys, hoping he too would earn the crowd's applause.

Unbeknownst to the Targaryen brothers, on a tree branch not too far behind them, a black raven with three eyes watched them intently.

Suddenly, grunting sounds echoed from the forest. A muscular, gleaming wild boar charged out, standing before the Targaryen siblings.

Rhaegar's steed was startled, and the young Viserys was terrified. Yet, Rhaegar remained composed.

Calmly dismounting with his brother in his arms, he drew his sword.

Known for his unparalleled swordsmanship across the Seven Kingdoms, Rhaegar effortlessly repelled the aggressive boar, making it flee.

Rather than pursuing and killing the boar, Rhaegar chose to let it go.

This memory of Rhaegar was deeply etched in Viserys' mind.

Now, the boy once terrified by the boar had grown up, not much younger than his elder brother at the time.

Viserys, now a silver-haired youth, watched the replayed scene as Rhaegar cleaned the blood from his sword and consoled his frightened younger brother.

…

"Was this your doing?"

Viserys turned to the Three-Eyed Raven, questioning him with a calm demeanor.

In the past, Viserys didn't suspect anything amiss about this incident. Now, seeing the Raven's presentation, it seemed the raven had plotted against him since he was about four or five years old.

"You know I can't majorly interfere with history."

The Raven might've had other, more effective ways to kill Viserys, but they could've led to even worse consequences. This was his only chance.

With the Three-Eyed Raven's words, Viserys' vision shifted again. This time, the change was far more drastic.

The young Viserys was now fully grown.

He was sparring with his guard, Ser Jorah Mormont, as Daenerys watched from a castle window. Viserys then bested Ser Jorah, knocking him off his horse.

Several ravens landed on the castle, one of which fixated on the scene below.

"I realized then that under your influence, the world's future was changing."

"I thought it was just a minor deviation in history."

"You know, Viserys, there are always some erroneous changes in this world, but they get corrected eventually, setting things right."

"It's the Old Gods' duty."

"Until I found you."

Viserys' vision transformed once more.

Back when he sparred with Ser Jorah, the Three-Eyed Raven first targeted him, sensing he was altering the world's course. But he mistakenly believed the world would soon correct itself.

But when he observed Viserys again, it was already too late.

Swoosh.

Dragonstone Castle was ablaze due to a servant's negligence, with both Daenerys and her dragon eggs consumed by the inferno.

Outside, Lyanna Stark anxiously watched the flames, feeling helpless.

The Three-Eyed Raven perched atop a nearby tower, his third crimson eye fixating on the flames below.

He witnessed the power of Targaryen blood awakening within Daenerys amidst the fire and blood, leading to the hatching of three dragons.

As the dragons emerged, the Raven felt the Old Gods' power within him rejuvenate, becoming immensely powerful. Every magic practitioner in the world was alarmed and disoriented.

A symbolic red comet appeared from the Sunset Sea, passing over Westeros and finally landing before Viserys' army, who returned from an expedition after defeating Khal Drogo.

Viserys took the heart of the comet, and the Three-Eyed Raven knew then that Viserys' rise was unstoppable.

What followed was the Raven traveling back to when Viserys was young, manipulating a wild boar to attack Prince Rhaegar, hoping to kill or at least cripple young Viserys.

But, unfortunately for the Raven, he failed. His chances to intervene were limited.

He later attempted to observe Viserys again, but a pet black cat owned by the Targaryens caught and killed him.

This cat left an eerie impression on the Raven, especially when he was engrossed in observing Viserys, only to suddenly be confronted by the cat's face. It deeply traumatized him.

From then on, the Three-Eyed Raven gave up on observing Viserys.

Until recently, when he sensed the Night King was close to discovering his hideout. He then sought Viserys' help.

Chapter 509: Consuming the Old Gods

Viserys: "What do you intend to do?"

Having understood everything, Viserys did not panic. Instead, he turned calmly to the Three-Eyed Raven.

Three-Eyed Raven: "To erase the impact you've caused, returning the world to its rightful path."

He spoke without expression.

Three-Eyed Raven: "The influence you've exerted may seem trivial, mere shifts in worldly power. But in truth, you've disrupted the world's historical flow."

The Three-Eyed Raven's foresight has become limited due to the alterations Viserys introduced, making the original path unrecognizable.

Three-Eyed Raven: "If your influence continues to spread, the consequences might be irreversible."

Upon hearing the white-haired old man's words, Viserys raised an eyebrow in intrigue.

Viserys: "Consequences? From your tone, I seem like a villain. What grave wrongs have I committed to evoke such dread in you?"

Viserys was curious about why the Three-Eyed Raven was so intent on opposing him. What had he done to be perceived as such a threat?

Three-Eyed Raven: "No, you've done nothing wrong. In fact, much of what you've done is commendable."

The white-haired man shook his head, acknowledging Viserys' actions, understanding their importance given his previous roles as Hand to Kings Aerys I and Maekar I. But noticing the fleeting confusion on Viserys's face, he elaborated.

Three-Eyed Raven: "However, your very existence is an aberration."

Viserys was silent for a moment.

Three-Eyed Raven: "Your influence on this world is profound. It has rendered the outcome of the final battle uncertain, altering the fates of key figures."

In essence, Viserys's presence has changed many destinies. Yet, Viserys was uncertain about this 'final battle' the Three-Eyed Raven spoke of. Was it against the White Walkers or some other looming threat?

Viserys: "Why are you so certain I would fail? If I unite the Seven Kingdoms, isn't that a more predictable outcome than the chaos after the War of the Five Kings?"

Three-Eyed Raven: "I cannot gamble on uncertainties."

He saw a future, albeit turbulent, that ends well. Why risk an unknown outcome?

Three-Eyed Raven: "My duty is to keep the world on its intended trajectory."

Viserys: "So, to ensure this 'correct' path, you'd erase me?"

Viserys couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity, seeing it as a classic tale of sacrificing the individual for the greater good.

Viserys: "Very well, Brynden Rivers."

Drawing his sword Dawn, Viserys pointed it at the Three-Eyed Raven.

Viserys: "Enough talk, draw your weapon."

He didn't really need to have this lengthy conversation. The Three-Eyed Raven had already made his intentions clear. As they talked, Viserys was also probing the world around him, mastering his spiritual power. In this realm, both were ethereal, allowing the Raven to have a full body and Viserys to retain his attire and sword.

Viserys's form began shifting. He morphed from one of his favorite anime characters to finally a dragon covered in thick scales, resembling Balerion.

While Viserys embraced Balerion's form, the Three-Eyed Raven stood calmly below, his staff made of weirwood. The power of the Old Gods brought Viserys to this realm, making it the Raven's domain. The setting shifted to the year 233 AC when the Raven first joined the Night's Watch.

Suddenly, a roar erupted from the dragon above, as Viserys, now Balerion, unleashed a torrent of flames towards the Raven. Meanwhile, the real Brynden Rivers, far away with the Night's Watch, felt a powerful sensation, stronger than before. He paused, looking back, but only saw a snowy landscape.

In another plane, the spiritual battle between Viserys and the Three-Eyed Raven intensified. Despite the support from the Old Gods, the Raven's face remained unflustered. If he wins, he plans to inhabit Viserys's body, erasing all influences and resetting the world's course. If he loses...

In the midst of the fierce battle, Viserys, as Balerion, circled and dove, enveloped in dark flames and a mysterious black mist that caught the Raven off guard.

Three-Eyed Raven: "What is this?"

He had observed Viserys's life but never encountered this black mist. It seemed sentient, deliberately hiding from the Raven's sight, only to unleash its full force now.

In the real world, the conversation beneath the weirwood paused. The Raven's head drooped, while Viserys slowly opened his eyes, revealing a radiant ancient fish fossil.

Chapter 510: The Last Greenseer

"Greenseer!"

"How fares the last Greenseer?"

Upon seeing the white-haired old man suddenly droop, his body limp and weak, no longer able to lift his head even with the power of the weirwood, two Children of the Forest maidens displayed immediate concern.

With the waning power of the Greenseer, the Children of the Forest are poised to fade into the annals of history; their powers are intertwined.

Meanwhile, Viserys, seated beneath the tree, remained silent for a long moment. His eyes flickered, seemingly overwhelmed by countless visions.

"Enough."

At last, the silver-haired youth managed a brief moment of clarity. Realizing the precariousness of his situation, he gritted his teeth.

"Stop!"

With sheer force of will, he halted the barrage of images before him.

Sigh.

His eyes, previously awash with visions, now ignited with a soft purple flame.

This was the manifestation of his mental prowess, reminiscent of the icy blue flames in the Night King's eyes.

His innate psychic strength already surpassed that of the Three-Eyed Raven and Bran. Thus, in resisting the Old Gods' power, he maintained significant autonomy, at least in choosing when to halt.

Sigh.

Viserys came to his senses, gasping for breath while seated on a tree stump.

His eyes regained clarity, his mind slowly waking from the endless stream of history.

For a moment, Viserys was nearly lost to the eons, his emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure—all slipping away.

The myriad visions rendered him numb until he forcefully halted them with sheer determination.

Thankfully, the presence of the dark mist within him helped counterbalance the power of the Old Gods. His own mental strength was sufficient to claw his way back.

Otherwise, an ordinary person overwhelmed by the Old Gods' power would become a mindless cog in the wheel of time, maintaining the world's trajectory, utterly unaware.

By now, Viserys understood why both the Three-Eyed Raven and Bran underwent drastic changes after receiving the Old Gods' power.

Any other person, without the aid of the dark mist, would lose themselves under the onslaught of the Old Gods' power.

Viserys, catching his breath on the stump, displayed a hint of relief.

However, after absorbing the Old Gods' power, he could sense that there was no malice within.

It was just a tree, like the weirwood canopy above, ancient and enduring.

Yet, it remains unclear if the Old Gods birthed the Children of the Forest or if the Children's rituals awakened the consciousness within the Gods. The Old Gods intentionally concealed their past.

They passed their powers onto successive generations of the Children of the Forest. Only when the Children dwindled, with none left bearing the gift of the Greenseer, did the Old Gods turn their attention to humans.

The Gods merely wished to transfer their power to a more suitable steward, never considering the consequences for the recipient.

Hence, successive Greenseers, including Brynden Rivers and Bran Stark, couldn't escape their fate.

"The Greenseer is dead."

"What has transpired?"

The Children's faces showed sorrow. Turning to Viserys, the maiden named Leaf inquired in the Common Tongue.

While they stood nearby, they remained unaware of the events. The Greenseer's conversation with Viserys abruptly halted, and then he took his final breath.

Viserys, having just broken free from the Old Gods' grip, looked relieved. Upon hearing Leaf's words, he looked up at them, then at the body of Brynden Rivers.

Shaking his head, he replied, "I'm not certain, perhaps his time had come."

"He entrusted the weirwood's power to me."

Viserys didn't share the entirety of the events but understood the Three-Eyed Raven's intentions.

The Raven's approach towards Viserys was certainly characteristic of the 'Bloodraven'. Anticipating Viserys' reluctance to become the next Greenseer, he laid a trap.

If successful, he'd break free from the weirwood, inhabiting Viserys' body, ensuring the world's trajectory remains unchanged. Alternatively, if he failed, Viserys would become the next Greenseer.

"You are now the Greenseer?"

Feeling the familiar power within Viserys, the Children's expressions shifted. Their form of address changed to a more reverent tone.

Viserys nodded, standing up with the hilt of his blade, Dawn, as support. Outside, Balerion roared softly.

Sensitive to magic, the dragon sensed Viserys' altered state. But before it could react, the sensation vanished.

Through a mental bond, Viserys assured Balerion of his well-being, then turned to the Children of the Forest.

"The weirwood will be destroyed by the Frost God."

"I won't remain beyond the Wall forever."

"I have my kingdom, my family, my people."

Viserys had mentioned this in his conversation with Brynden Rivers, reluctant to accept the Old Gods' power due to these reasons.

The two Children exchanged glances. Leaf translated for the snow-haired maiden, Snow. Both nodded.

Turning to Viserys, Leaf said, "We are willing to follow you, Greenseer."

Chapter 511: The Bottomless Pit

The last Green Seer has perished, and Viserys has harnessed the power of the Old Gods.

Eager to join him on his journey, the remaining Children of the Forest consent, knowing that without him, they would merely fade into history.

But when Viserys inquires about other Children, Leaf reveals that they reside within the earth or within trees.

"Within the earth? Inside the trees?" Viserys's face displays evident confusion, prompting Leaf to explain.

"You might not be aware; it's the ultimate fate of the Children of the Forest…"

Born of nature, they return to it, choosing to end their lives in various ways as they near their natural end. Some merge with a Weirwood tree, becoming one with the forest, while others enter the abyss beneath the Weirwood, never to return.

"Before the First Men arrived in what you call Westeros, it was our homeland," Leaf remarked, her usually playful demeanor now serious. Especially when Viserys expressed a desire to glimpse this abyss, she warned of its immense peril.

"It's said to be filled with countless bones, stretching endlessly deep, even rumored to lead to the very heart of the earth."

"Even after living here for millennia, we've never fully explored its secrets."

Directly above this bottomless chasm grows the Weirwood, right beneath Viserys and the Children. If the abyss were to shift, the Weirwood would follow.

Perhaps that's why the Three-Eyed Raven claimed the White Walkers would eventually find him. The Weirwood's existence was like a beacon in the dark, impossible to hide from.

"Could it be that what the White Walkers seek is the entrance to this abyss?" Viserys pondered, delving into the memories of the Three-Eyed Raven, but the answers he found were ambiguous.

Wishing to explore this 'forgotten path,' Viserys voiced his intentions.

After some discussion, Leaf and Snow agreed to guide him, recognizing him as the last Green Seer and one of their own.

Following the two girls, Viserys ventured deeper beneath the Weirwood. Roots intertwined everywhere, and as they descended, the light dimmed.

Illuminating the path with a torch, they journeyed until the outside light disappeared, leaving only the torch's glow.

After what felt like hours, the winding path led them to the entrance of the bottomless pit.

But the 'forgotten path' still continued, stretching deep into the abyss with no end in sight.

The entrance was not particularly tall, and Viserys could barely stand upright. "This is it," said the girl adorned with wilted flowers.

A sense of impending danger washed over Viserys as he neared the abyss, reminiscent of the feeling he had when encountering the black mist in Valyrian ruins.

"I'll take a look."

Holding his torch forward, he peered deeper into the pit. As the torchlight scattered the darkness, he noticed something.

"What's this?" Picking up an object from the ground, he examined it. "A dragonglass spearhead? Was there a battle here?"

The crudely crafted spearhead, laden with historical aura, suggested a bygone era where a Child of the Forest might have wielded it against foes.

Suddenly, the scenery shifted around Viserys, revealing a vibrant world. Giants wielding colossal tree trunks, roaring Westerlands lions, herds of unicorns, and direwolf packs surged forward, all seemingly preparing for a battle.

"What era is this?"

A Child of the Forest, donned in leafy garments, naturally took the spear from Viserys, shouting an ancient battle cry. The forest echoed with responses from countless others.

"Hey, brother," the Child turned to Viserys. Seeing him clearly, the Child's eyes widened in surprise.

Chapter 512: The Ancient War

"Hm?"

This Children of the Forest was surprised to see Viserys, a shock not only for him but for Viserys as well.

Viserys had always believed that in the days of old, he was invisible to outsiders, forever an observer.

The current situation was a bit awkward. The leader of the Children couldn't understand Viserys, and although Viserys spoke four languages, it was clear the other couldn't understand him either.

It's unknown how many tens of thousands of years ago this was, for the Children's history spans over a million years, as said by Leaf.

Human civilization in comparison to the long history of the Children is but a grain of sand. Even the same language would have changed dramatically over time.

Had the Children had better reproductive capabilities, they might have sparked a terrifying civilization, and humans might not have dominated these lands.

The leader of the Children, short and sturdy, wore an unknown chain around his neck. His eyes were green. He initially looked at Viserys with shock and confusion but soon appeared relieved.

"Hey!"

He greeted Viserys, making a peculiar sound. Though he had never seen a human, he seemed to understand who the lavishly dressed, silver-haired young man in a black cloak was.

However, a deafening roar, strange like a baby's cry, shrill and piercing, suddenly echoed from the distance.

Viserys looked up, as did the leader, whose face changed dramatically upon hearing the roar. A massive battle raged in the distance with monsters roaring, giants bellowing, and mammoths trumpeting in pain.

Thunderous sounds followed as the Children chanted spells, invoking forbidden magic. Lightning and fire raged, making the battlefield resemble a war of gods, filled with smoke and dark clouds.

The leader's face turned grave, and Viserys squinted towards the ancient battlefield.

Upon seeing the enemies - the Children, Mountain Lions, Unicorns, Giants, and Mammoths - Viserys' expression shifted. A massive worm, covered in thick scales and capable of burrowing through the ground, was tearing through the Children's magical defenses.

It resembled an enormous earthworm, with a gaping ringed mouth, emitting a shrill cry like a baby. After devouring a huge mammoth, it opened its mouth, revealing a red glow inside.

The Children's leader, seeing Viserys disappear, was momentarily relieved. A triumphant smile appeared as he shouted in the ancient tongue, rallying his people with a prophecy of victory against the monsters from the depths.

The Children, inspired, renewed their magical assault on the colossal worm.

The leader then turned to where Viserys had been, pondering the unfamiliar attire and species. He had not foreseen any victory; the sight of Viserys merely confirmed that the power of 'gods' would persist, strengthening his faith in the battle's outcome. But how did another race inherit the 'gods'' power?

The ancient battlefield was ablaze, and the leader, gripping his obsidian spear, felt a sudden foreboding.

Meanwhile, in the present...

Viserys abruptly returned from the ancient battlefield. Due to his inexperience in time-traveling, he was drained, feeling empty-headed. Holding the obsidian spear, he nearly fainted.

"Viserys!"

"Are you okay?"

Two young Children of the Forest, waiting outside the cave, rushed in, helping him up when they saw him holding a torch, crouching, and almost fainting.

Chapter 513: Return to King's Landing

"I'm fine," the silver-haired young man stated, his face as pale as parchment. With Leaf and Snow's assistance, he got back to his feet and shook his head. He bent down again to pick up the torch that had fallen to the ground and carefully examined the ancient obsidian spearhead in his hand.

Now it appeared dull, devoid of any sheen. However, Viserys understood its immense historical significance, drenched in the blood and tears of the Children of the Forest. Yet, a nagging question remained.

"The Children of the Forest, unicorns, giants, and mammoths – who exactly were these beasts they united against?"

Although back in the present, the images he had seen made Viserys frown and feel a touch of fear. He and Balerion might be capable of taking on such creatures due to the dragon's size and aerial abilities. But what would it cost humanity to wage a full-scale war against such monsters? Especially when it was only one of many.

Once back in King's Landing, Viserys planned to consult books for answers. Despite being the capital, King's Landing didn't boast the most extensive library. The answers he sought were ancient, and Oldtown's Citadel might hold the records he needed.

Having absorbed the visions from the Three-Eyed Raven, he realized this matter couldn't be postponed. He needed to swiftly eliminate all current foes and brace for harsher challenges ahead.

"Let's move on," the silver-haired youth said after taking a deep breath.

Days later, Viserys rested in the cave beneath the Weirwood tree, consuming a paste made from its seeds to rejuvenate his depleted psychic energy. The Weirwood's power had fully transferred to Viserys, leaving the tree a mere husk, swaying in the wind.

The golden leaves, once radiant, now faded to their natural pale branches and red leaves.

Emerging from the cave with two young Children of the Forest, Balerion awaited outside. Over the days, the dragon would occasionally fly away for food.

Beneath the Frostfang Mountains, the vast army of the dead neither attacked in Balerion's absence nor retreated. They merely waited, knowing Viserys would depart someday.

And that day came.

The wind outside the cave rustled as Viserys, cloaked and with Dawn at his side, stood alongside the two Children of the Forest. They mournfully looked at the Weirwood, their last bastion. To the Children, the Old Gods were synonymous with the Weirwoods.

But Viserys didn't share their sentiment. His psychic powers ignited, eyes blazing a soft purple, as he locked eyes with the Night King below the Frostfangs.

At the mountain's base, the Night King, crowned with ice, waited atop a skeletal horse. Snow had accumulated over days of his motionless vigil. Sensing Viserys's gaze, he finally moved, shaking off the snow, and met Viserys's stare.

Ascending the dragon with the two Children, a roaring cry echoed across the vast mountains as the black dragon soared into the sky.

The army of the dead stirred as Viserys left, engulfing the Weirwood like a dark tide.

Viserys's absence from King's Landing hadn't been long, but rumors ran rampant. Some claimed he left because the Queen bore him no son, while others whispered about a mistress in Pentos. His return dispelled all speculation.

The dragon's roar announced his arrival, landing in front of the Red Keep. Entering the grand palace with the two Children, Viserys's return disappointed many who hoped he'd never return.

The Children, especially Leaf, who claimed to have once traveled Westeros, were taken aback by the city's grandeur. She had seen a dragon, not a friendly one, and after facing many perils, returned home.

Viserys's acquisition of the Children became the talk of King's Landing. The Children, unseen for a millennium, combined with the previously revealed giants, led people to marvel at Viserys's capabilities. If he charged for viewings, he'd be rich, but he wasn't that callous.

His return stabilized King's Landing's political scene. At a Small Council meeting, Varys presented intelligence about increasing meetings among the city's poor, suggesting a crackdown. Princess Rhaenys, however, sympathized with them, attributing their plight to war and the Riverlands' blockade restricting food supplies.

Chapter 514: The Council Meeting in Front of the King

"Princess Rhaenys makes a valid point. The war has led to a dramatic increase in the population of King's Landing."

"Though the Faith has generously offered aid, providing much-needed food supplies to alleviate the famine, it's still not a permanent solution."

Upon hearing Rhaenys's rebuttal, Varys, the bald eunuch, didn't argue. He simply offered a kind smile to Rhaenys, then continued along the lines of her statement.

Varys was adept at reading the room. He knew that disputing a minor matter with the princess, who was the king's favorite, would be foolish.

"Hence, two pressing matters lie before us, Your Grace."

Varys then turned to the silver-haired young man seated centrally at the council table.

"The first is to promptly launch the Second Conquest, uniting all territories."

"The second is to commence public trials for the usurpers of the previous dynasty and their accomplices. Hear their defenses, then judge them justly, showcasing Your Majesty's fairness."

"Which to address first, and which to follow, is for you to decide, as you are the king."

"But both require swift resolution."

King Robert, the Duke of the North, and numerous captured nobles have been imprisoned for months.

Life in the dungeon is harsh, especially for the nobility accustomed to luxury. They likely now recognize their mistakes, probably wishing for a swift end.

"Of course, Prince Oberyn, driven by vengeance, wishes to wait until Tywin Lannister is captured before the trials commence. We understand this, but..."

The council chamber fell silent, with only Varys's voice echoing.

For it was the time for the Master of Whispers to share his intelligence, which always took a significant portion of the meeting. Gathering information from across the Seven Kingdoms required extensive time.

Varys carefully observed Viserys's expressions, pausing briefly before continuing.

"According to my little birds, Prince Oberyn, after decimating twenty thousand Lannister troops and taking Crakehall, faced minor setbacks."

Varys's voice was sharp and delicate, subtly expressing his views, hinting to Viserys not to give Oberyn free rein.

"Show me the intelligence."

Upon hearing Varys's words, Viserys furrowed his brows, then took the report from him to briefly review.

In essence, Oberyn might have been overconfident or too eager for success.

He set a trap for Tywin Lannister at Deep Den, swiftly conquering western towns. After torching twenty thousand Lannister troops at the Red Lake, Tywin sadly hanged his own cousin, Stafford.

However, Tywin, always cunning, stabilized after initial losses to the younger, more aggressive Oberyn.

Oberyn, having promised Viserys to conquer the Westerlands before the trials, seemed too eager, making typical mistakes of young commanders.

The Targaryen forces, while advancing on Lannisport, were ambushed from behind.

The Oakheart family of Old Oak, longtime rivals of Dorne, were responsible.

Although Lady Alys Oakheart's young son, a Kingsguard, died during the coup in King's Landing, the Lannisters convincingly shifted the blame to the Goldcloaks.

Hence, when Tywin requested aid after multiple defeats, Lady Alayne Oakheart hesitated but ultimately agreed.

She dispatched Old Oak troops, cutting off the Targaryen army's retreat, and took Crakehall with fewer defending troops.

The Oakheart-Dorne enmity spans centuries, with murals in Old Oak depicting their history.

During Aegon's First Conquest, Lord Weil of Weil Town infiltrated the wedding of Alys Oakheart and Jon Caron. Dornishmen castrated the groom, killed Lord Oakheart, and enslaved the bride and her maids, selling them to Meereenese slavers.

This event is a deep stain on the Oakheart honor. But past feuds weren't the primary reason Lady Alayne sided against the Targaryens.

It boiled down to interests. Like many Westerosi nobles, she believed Tywin's propaganda, fearing a future where commoners equaled nobility, eroding the aristocracy's stature.

Hatreds can always be dissolved by the right price.

"Enough."

After reading the report, Viserys took a deep breath.

"I don't blame Oberyn for underestimating his enemy. Tywin Lannister has always been a formidable foe. Some losses are acceptable."

"Rhaenys."

The silver-haired young man turned.

"Ride Rhaegal to aid Oberyn."

The brunette princess paused, her face eager, and nodded.

"Understood."

Viserys still had utmost trust in Oberyn, his kin by marriage. Sending a dragonrider to aid him essentially settled the western front.

Varys, seeing Viserys heeding his advice, squinted slightly.

He took another deep breath, straightened his back, and handed another report to Viserys.

"Your Grace, there's more intelligence on the Vale concerning Lord Petyr Baelish."

Chapter 515: Midnight Visit

During the day, Viserys finalized plans for the second conquest war with his ministers at the court meeting.

In the months to follow, once the resources are adequately prepared, he will personally lead the campaign.

Leading the Golden Company and the Dothraki, he plans to sweep the southern part of the kingdom, suppressing the rebellions of all nobles except those in Dorne.

News of Stannis's fratricide has spread throughout Westeros. Viserys intends to visit Storm's End under the banner of justice.

Meanwhile, staunch allies of the Iron Throne continue to besiege Highgarden, apparently clashing with reinforcements from Oldtown, with no clear victor.

After conquering the Stormlands, Viserys will turn westward, assisting the Dornish forces in capturing the Riverlands.

In the Vale, according to information from Varys, Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish did not disappoint Viserys. It seems he has made some moves.

Nobles of the "Justice League" gathered in the Eyrie. However, before they could rally their so-called "army of justice" against Viserys, internal strife erupted.

The root of their internal strife was a woman: the wife of the former Guardian of the Vale, Jon Arryn, and the mother of the current Lord of the Eyrie, Robert Arryn.

Many nobles of the "Justice League," from elderly men to young men in their twenties and thirties, pursued her.

Lysa Tully wasn't particularly beautiful, but marrying her was equivalent to acquiring power and legitimately ruling the Eyrie, becoming the father to the Lord.

Who doesn't love power?

Under Littlefinger's manipulation, Lysa willingly became his pawn.

Even if it meant sharing a bed with the nobles of the "Justice League," she would then pit them against each other, leading to unprecedented internal strife in the Eyrie.

The nobles of the "Justice League" fought each other, leaving countless casualties.

Eventually, Yohn Royce, the organizer of the "Justice League," realized the gravity of the situation and stepped in to quell the chaos.

The "Blackfish" Brynden Tully, who went to various places to seek reinforcements, also returned. He had persuaded Jaime Lannister before the internal strife in Storm's End and brought a loyalist army.

Together, they quelled the rebellion, executing several nobles involved. Only then did things settle.

Lysa Tully, the unfortunate woman seen as a victim, was defended by her uncle, who never suspected her intentions.

Littlefinger, the mastermind, never appeared in public. He controlled the rebellion from behind the scenes.

When the "Blackfish" Brynden Tully returned with Jaime Lannister's loyalist army and joined Yohn Royce in ending the war, they thought everything was over.

But they didn't realize that this was just the beginning of Littlefinger's plans.

Nighttime.

After a tiring day, Viserys, draped in a snow-white cloak, with his silvery-golden hair, appeared quite striking.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

Fully armed guards in the Red Keep respectfully nodded as Viserys passed.

"Your Grace."

Viserys then proceeded to the Traitor's Walk. The dungeon keeper hastily unlocked the main door for him.

Creaking open the door, Viserys nodded slightly and stepped inside. He stopped in front of a cell.

"Hmm."

He signaled the guards behind him.

They immediately handed their torch to Viserys and left.

For Viserys, the most crucial task of the Kingsguard, Meryn Trant, was to protect the Queen and Princess Daenerys, even more important than guarding Viserys himself.

In reality, with Viserys's god-like power, he didn't need protection.

No one would dare assassinate him.

Holding a torch, Viserys's silver-gold hair shimmered in the firelight as he entered a cell.

Robert Baratheon, the former king, despite his deep enmity with the Targaryens, was treated decently in his cell.

Viserys and Robert didn't have personal grievances, but the family feud was intense.

"Seems you're doing well here, Robert," Viserys said, looking around the well-furnished cell.

Robert, unkempt with disheveled hair and beard, looked nothing like a king.

"Hmph."

Sitting barefoot on a bed in prisoner's clothes, Robert's eyes flared with anger.

"Are you here to mock me, boy?"

Viserys calmly looked at him and chuckled, "People who have nothing else to brag about often use age to belittle others."

Robert's face turned crimson.

"Jaime's dead," Viserys suddenly declared.

Robert was taken aback, apparently unaware of this news.

"Did you do it?" he asked, his gaze intense.

"No, it was Stannis," Viserys replied. "He ambushed and killed Jaime during a surrender, driving a dagger through his heart."

The two kings exchanged words, the content of which remained unknown.

As Viserys left the Traitor's Walk, he encountered a beautiful woman with golden hair.

Her golden locks cascaded down like a waterfall, partially covering her exquisitely sculpted face which bore signs of fatigue.

"Your Grace, may we speak?" she asked, her voice soft.

Chapter 516: Night Talk

Cersei, along with her son and daughter, is now stationed in the Maiden's Keep within the Red Keep.

Located inside the Red Keep, behind the royal chapel, it's a long slate-roofed fortress, renowned because of its connection to the 'blessed' Baelor I.

Saint Baelor I, in his quest to purge himself of carnal desires and serve the gods, had confined his three sisters (who were also his wives) here. Back then, the Maiden's Keep was also dubbed the 'Chamber of Beauties'.

Viserys and Cersei entered the room, finding the blonde Queen's children, Joffrey and Myrcella, already inside.

The once-glorious queen of the Baratheon dynasty, her prince, and princess are now confined here, without even the company of servants.

Prince Joffrey, despite his young age, used to be imperious within the Red Keep. Relying on his father's negligence and his mother's indulgence, he mistreated attendants and humiliated handmaidens.

Joffrey had once lined up the handmaidens, lifting their skirts to kick them as if playing a ball game.

He had also caught a pregnant cat, slit its belly to see the kittens inside, and proudly showed one to his father.

However, Joffrey hadn't expected his father to be enraged instead of praising him.

Robert immediately slapped Joffrey so hard he lost two milk teeth and almost killed the boy on the spot, but Cersei frantically intervened.

But now, without the power of Robert backing him, Joffrey realized he was nothing.

"Your Grace."

Upon seeing his mother leading Viserys into the room, Joffrey trembled, his blue eyes filled with barely concealed fear. He quickly got off the bed.

Myrcella, still innocent, sat on the bed, oblivious to the adult world's treacheries or that her father had been defeated by the man before her.

She gazed curiously at Viserys with her bright eyes.

"Addressing me so formally is unnecessary, Joffrey," said Cersei, pulling her wavy golden hair behind her ears and forcing a congenial smile. "Call him uncle."

"King Uncle," Joffrey replied, looking nervously at Viserys.

He had fallen from being a superior prince to an outcast within the Red Keep. Along with the odd looks from others, the extreme shift had not only stripped him of his position but also made him severely insecure and psychologically twisted.

Viserys, seeing the boy who would later be notorious as Joffrey the Great, felt indifferent.

The boy wasn't the infamous 'Emperor Joffrey' yet and had no chance to ascend the Iron Throne to commit his atrocities.

Viserys simply patted Joffrey's shoulder, nodding in a neutral tone, "Alright, Joffrey."

"Take Myrcella to another room to play. I have matters to discuss with your uncle. No eavesdropping."

The beautiful blonde queen maintained a strained smile.

She gently instructed her son and daughter to leave the room. Once they had left, she wanted a private discussion with Viserys.

Eager to escape Viserys's piercing gaze, Joffrey quickly carried Myrcella out, leaving the room to Cersei and Viserys.

Once the door closed behind the children, silence enveloped the room.

"Please, sit, Your Grace," Cersei began, taking a deep breath, her beautiful face forcing a smile, revealing the strain of recent events.

"I'll prepare some pastries and fruits for you."

Losing her regal status had been hard on Cersei. She no longer had servants, and the everyday luxuries were gone. For her children's sake, she had learned to cook and clean.

The servants and guards in the Red Keep didn't trouble them, acknowledging their noble status. Still, their deliberate ignorance pained Cersei more. She was once the center of attention.

Therefore, after enduring months in the Red Keep, Cersei seized the opportunity to approach Viserys.

"There's no need," Viserys replied, sitting opposite her. "Speak your mind."

The beautiful blonde woman hadn't expected such impatience. She adjusted her collar and said, "I request you pardon Jaime, Joffrey, and Myrcella. Princess Rhaenys had already promised this when I surrendered King's Landing."

Viserys calmly replied, "Kingslayers are meant to be executed. As for Joffrey and Myrcella, I never pursued charges against them, else they wouldn't be here."

"But we've been confined here for months, Your Grace," Cersei interjected, describing their limited freedom within the Red Keep.

She mentioned a previous conversation with Robert where she had asked if he ever loved her, and he had nodded in agreement, breaking her heart. She had not visited him since.

Viserys concluded, "Decisions will be made soon."

Chapter 517: Cersei's Determination

When Viserys heard Cersei's complaints, he simply shook his head slightly.

"Trust me, Cersei. Keeping you all from wandering is for your protection."

The identities of the former queen and her children are sensitive. While Viserys isn't afraid of challenges, he wouldn't seek trouble without reason.

Their positions are delicate. If they were to be captured by those with ulterior motives, it might spell great trouble for him, and their fate at the hands of those people could be dire.

"I understand."

Yet, Cersei cut Viserys off, causing him a moment's surprise.

"Hmm?"

Cersei rose from her chair and walked to the window, gazing at the distant lights of the Red Keep from the Maiden's Holdfast.

This used to be her home, where she'd drink wine and view the beauty of King's Landing from the tower of Maegor.

But now, she could only stand by the Maiden's Holdfast window, looking at the nearby sept.

Should she feel honored to have the Seven Gods accompany her?

However, Cersei only bit her lip, a cold smirk showing her mix of emotions.

Cersei had never been a devout believer, knowing what she had done - killing her handmaidens, betraying her husband, engaging in incest with her brother and bearing two children, orchestrating the assassination of Jon Arryn...

If gods truly existed, she'd surely be among the most unforgivable.

"You understand?"

Viserys, sitting, watched the blonde beauty by the window, raising an eyebrow.

"I understand that Joffrey, Myrcella, and I have unique identities and can't easily leave King's Landing."

"Even if the wars of the future end and you unite the Seven Kingdoms."

Cersei spoke, leaning against the window frame, looking back at Viserys at the round table.

"So?"

"Therefore, I'm prepared to reveal a secret to you."

...

Leaning against the window frame, Cersei elegantly tilted her chin, took a deep breath, and began.

"A secret no one else knows."

"It would secure your rule, Viserys."

It seemed revealing this secret was a great emotional burden for her. In the dim light, Viserys could see her tearful, slightly reddened eyes.

"Oh?"

"Is it about the true heritage of Joffrey and Myrcella?"

Viserys' voice was calm as he looked with interest at Cersei, realizing he might have underestimated her.

Cersei's face changed dramatically upon hearing this.

This secret about her and Jaime was their biggest one. Jon Arryn had suspicions but was silenced before gathering concrete evidence.

How could Viserys know so early? Was it Varys?

"I... I don't understand what you're implying."

Cersei seemed panicked.

Her previously feigned sorrow and maternal love vanished, replaced by bewilderment.

Viserys' unexpected words disrupted Cersei's plans, even if the 'secret' she intended to share was this exact matter.

"Joffrey and Myrcella are the offspring of you and the 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister, Cersei."

"They should bear the Lannister name, not Baratheon."

Viserys calmly said, reaching for a wine pitcher only to find it empty.

"Let me pour for you."

Hearing Viserys, Cersei's last defenses shattered, appearing somewhat lost, trying to maintain composure.

She poured him wine and, catching his gaze, shook her head.

"Don't worry; I haven't poisoned it."

"Your poison wouldn't work on me."

The silver-haired youth shook his head, finishing his wine.

"Do you wish to exchange this secret for Joffrey and Myrcella's safety?"

With the power of the Three-Eyed Raven and the Old Gods, he'd reached unprecedented levels. Earthly toxins were of no concern.

Cersei nodded hastily. Her plan was to seduce him tonight. After all, beauty isn't a woman's only weapon.

But Viserys knew the secret already.

"You should know, Cersei, once this secret is out, your reputation is forever tarnished."

Viserys looked seriously at Cersei after sipping his wine.

A mother's strength.

Cersei's willingness to protect her children was commendable.

There had always been rumors about the Lannister siblings, but without concrete evidence, no one dared take them seriously.

Now, Cersei's admission solidified it. There was no turning back for her.

"May I join you for a drink?"

Cersei simply nodded, sitting close to Viserys, her scent filling the air.

Raising her glass, her cheeks flushed slightly.

"You can reveal my crimes during a public trial."

"Prove Joffrey and Myrcella's true identities, eliminating threats to the Iron Throne."

"It's a win-win, isn't it?"

Cersei sniffled, sat beside Viserys, and placed his hand between her legs.

"Yes."

Viserys nodded.

"Indeed, it's a win-win."

"And I trust you'll pardon me during the trial."

"For you and the Princess."

Chapter 518: The Second Conquest War

Year 294 of Aegon's calendar, the second year of the new era.

From the day Viserys was crowned on the Iron Throne, the chronology shifted from the Aegon calendar to the first year of the new era.

Now, in the second year of the new era, the Targaryen forces, after less than half a year of recuperation, have shed their fatigue and energetically embarked on their journey.

However, representing the traditional noble power of the Seven Kingdoms—the Westerlands, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands—the nobles would not surrender easily. They wouldn't willingly relinquish their power.

They rallied their subjects to join the army, publicizing Viserys' so-called "atrocities", painting him as the next Mad King, which left the common folk in these regions in a state of unease.

Indeed, in the eyes of these nobles, Viserys' madness surpassed even that of his father.

After all, the Mad King merely burned a few individuals for amusement, while Viserys aimed to burn down the rules and systems that had held Westeros together for thousands of years.

How could such a man not be labeled a "tyrant"?

Thus, the moniker "Tyrant Viserys I" spread everywhere, except in the Riverlands and King's Landing.

People in King's Landing and the Riverlands might have heard this title, but they scoffed at it.

While they weren't sure if their king was indeed a tyrant, many of the soldiers who surrendered after the Battle of Riverrun later received lands of their own—a fact evident to all.

Instead of just renting lands from lords, they even had some soldiers knighted. With their own plots of land, they jokingly referred to themselves as "Lords of Two Acres".

Such unprecedented changes were witnessed by their fellow countrymen.

Therefore, although they hadn't met Viserys and didn't know if he was a tyrant, he at least gave them hope. To the common folk, land represented hope.

Yet, in regions other than the Riverlands and King's Landing, any praise of Viserys was strictly forbidden. Rumors circulated, including that Viserys consumed a maiden daily, and that his dragon, blacker and larger than the others, feasted on human flesh.

However, the disparate views across Westeros would eventually merge. The age-old saying holds true: "What has been divided must come together, and what has come together must divide." There's no room for reconciliation between the two factions.

The leader presented by the conservative noble faction, or the rebels, was Stannis Baratheon. As King Robert's older brother and the Duke of Dragonstone, he was the Iron Throne's heir in name. But as long as his elder brother imprisoned in King's Landing still lived, Stannis would never be crowned.

...

As the bells of the new year rang in King's Landing, within half a month's time,

A decree for the Second Conquest War emanated from the Red Keep. The shadow of all-out war loomed over the continent.

The Iron Throne issued one final warning: all resisting nobles must surrender or die.

They had no third option; there was no room for negotiation. They must either bend the knee or, holding onto the honor of the old nobility, be reduced to ashes alongside their castles.

The throne's warning spread swiftly throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Everyone knew the final war was imminent, leading to a flurry of public debate. The reactions ranged from indifference to concern, excitement to fear.

Commoners were mostly desensitized, having endured many wars. Merchants fretted about the instability in the Seven Kingdoms. War brought both opportunities and risks.

The foot soldiers of the Targaryen army, however, were excited about the upcoming war.

Under the current promotion system, only war—and specifically, victory in war—could promise them a better life.

Many commanders of the Golden Company eagerly anticipated the stubborn resistance of the Westerosi nobles.

After all, how could they replace the nobility without first defeating them, especially when their ancestral homes had been occupied by others?

The only ones filled with dread on the eve of this great war were the traditional nobles preparing for a final stand.

...

Whoo—

At dawn, the horn atop King's Landing sounded.

Swoosh~ A vast silhouette skimmed the sky, emitting a deep roar. With flapping wings stirring the winds, it flew into the distance.

The gates of King's Landing opened wide. The Targaryen forces, fully armed and ready, marched out.

Swoosh swoosh swoosh—

Their armor gleamed, and their weapons were sharp. They marched out of King's Landing in neat formations, then, raising the banners bearing the Targaryen three-headed dragon, they charged into the distance.

Boom boom boom—

The Dothraki's heavy hooves pounded the earth. The mounted warriors emitted excited cries.

Although King's Landing was a grand city, the Dothraki, a people of the plains, yearned for their old way of life. They, however, could not defy the orders of their dragon-riding Khal.

The Dothraki, wild and unrestrained, obeyed their Khal's command to the letter. Their primary targets in this war were Highgarden and Oldtown.

The Second Conquest War had three main armies. The first, led by Prince Oberyn of Dorne, had already set out and was now deeply involved in the warfare in the Westerlands.

In recent months, with the assistance of dragon riders, Oberyn's niece, Rhaenys, riding Rhaegal, had set fires throughout the Westerlands' mountains.

This inflicted massive damage on the Lannister forces. Numerous towns and castles in the Westerlands were burned, with countless civilians displaced and suffering.

However, Lord Tywin Lannister, always the strategic thinker, was not one to surrender easily.

He painted Viserys as a demon in rumors, and combined with the Targaryen forces' acts of invasion, the dragons soaring in the sky, and Oberyn's burning of 20,000 Westerlands men at Red Lake, these actions ignited the spirit of the Westerlands' nobles, soldiers, and citizens.

Tywin, leading a united Westerlands army and utilizing the region's complex mountainous terrain, fiercely resisted the Targaryen invasion, causing much trouble for Oberyn.

Thus, both sides were in a stalemate, like two skilled hunters each waiting for the opportunity to deliver the killing blow.

The second army was led personally by Viserys with the Golden Company.

They were the core strength of House Targaryen.

They faced the remnants of the Baratheon dynasty, the conservative noble faction, led in name by Stannis Baratheon.

As a renowned commander in the Seven Kingdoms, upon hearing of the Targaryen army's approach to Storm's End, Stannis didn't choose to wait for the siege. Instead, he proactively dispatched vanguard forces.

Having participated in the Battle of Riverrun, Stannis knew that defending a castle against dragons was a losing strategy.

Thus, an intense battle erupted near the Wendwater River between the advance forces of both sides.

Chapter 519: First Battle

The lingering call of a war horn fills the air.

The forces of the Stormlands had set an ambush in the Kingswood, launching an attack on the Targaryen vanguard. Intense combat unfolds by the Wendwater River.

"Charge!"

Sir Bruce Buckler of Bronzegate led the Stormlands soldiers, emerging from the woods with his sword drawn, carving through the Targaryen ranks with ease.

From within the woods, rows of archers unleash a barrage of arrows, causing significant casualties amongst the Targaryen troops.

"Maintain formation!"

"Stay calm!"

The commander of the Targaryen vanguard, Sir Benard Bar Emmon, clad in the golden armor of the Golden Company, confidently issues orders from atop his steed. His beard is rugged, and his eyes sharp.

Facing the sudden onslaught, he remains composed, drawing his sword and commanding his men to hold their ground, preparing for a counter-attack.

Clashes of metal echo throughout the battlefield, arrows strike shields, and the cries of war are deafening.

At that moment, a soldier of the Stormlands charges at Sir Benard, identifying him as a Targaryen commander. However, he underestimates Sir Benard, a former sellsword of the Golden Company, whose ancestors were once knights of Westeros. Having distinguished himself in the First Conquest War, he had been knighted.

With a swift motion, Sir Benard cuts down his assailant.

This marks the first encounter between the Targaryen and Stormlands forces in the Second Conquest War.

Overlooking the battlefield, Stannis Baratheon, leader of the Stormlands and the conservative nobility, would have been crowned king had his elder brother and nephew not been imprisoned. For now, he's seen as a rebel.

Clad in a cloak and riding a majestic black steed, Stannis stands on a nearby hill, observing the fray.

"Davos, do you think we can win this battle?" he asks with a stoic expression.

His trusted advisor, the Onion Knight Ser Davos Seaworth, is taken aback by the question. While many in the Stormlands are confident, having not witnessed the horrors of the war against the White Walkers and the dragons, Davos knows the might of the Targaryens all too well.

Stannis interrupts before Davos can reply, "Never mind, Davos, just a passing thought." He then signals a retreat.

The forces of the Stormlands begin their withdrawal, leaving the field littered with bodies. While they had the element of surprise, the Targaryen soldiers proved formidable due to their drive for rewards and honors.

Both sides suffer heavy casualties and retreat to set up camps.

The Stormlands army, consisting of over thirty thousand men, women, and children, make camp south of Bronzegate, atop the hills. They're well-prepared, with large crossbows aimed at the skies, ever-watchful for the feared Targaryen dragons.

Night falls and heavy rain starts to pour. The Targaryen army, led by Viserys Targaryen, halts their advance due to the weather conditions.

Riding a white horse, lightning illuminates Viserys' face, his silver hair wet against his Valyrian steel armor.

He gazes at the Stormlands camp, signals for his army to halt, and declares, "I need to step out; don't come looking for me."

Before his guards can react, Viserys disappears into the rain, leaving them in bewilderment.

Chapter 520: Sisters of Darkness

Viserys rode away from the camp, disappearing into the curtain of rain. Naturally, someone else would take care of the army affairs in his absence.

The commander of the Golden Company, Mys Toyn, took over as acting general. Balerion did not follow Viserys. The dragon chose a relatively flat spot to lie down, waiting for the battle on the morrow.

The rain continued its relentless downpour. Viserys, after leaving the camp, didn't go far. He ventured to the upper reaches of the Wendwater, deep within the woods.

The sound of his horse's hooves trudged through the muddy terrain. Viserys' once pristine steed was now muddied, but the silver-haired knight didn't mind and continued deeper into the Kingswood.

"We're here."

He finally stopped at a particular spot. Holding the saddle, Viserys dismounted, his boots sinking into the soft mud.

"This must be the place."

Viserys scanned the surroundings with his pale purple eyes, confirming his location.

According to memories absorbed from the Three-Eyed Raven, his ancestral Valyrian steel sword, Dark Sister, was lost here.

Decades ago, Brynden Rivers was imprisoned by Aegon V and later exiled to the Wall. He had taken the ancestral Targaryen blade with him. Its whereabouts became a mystery after Brynden's disappearance.

However, memories from the Three-Eyed Raven indicated that after becoming the Green Seer, he had Dark Sister sent back to the south.

Why it wasn't sent to King's Landing but hidden in this secluded Kingswood was a mystery. Viserys had only absorbed part of the Three-Eyed Raven's memories, some fragmented and incomplete.

He only knew what had been done but not the reasons behind those actions.

The Kingswood, always reserved for royal hunts, was lush and dense. Dark Sister's hiding place was in a cave near the source of the Wendwater.

Following the memories, Viserys approached the cave and ventured inside.

Despite the torrential rain outside, the cave was mostly dry. He lit a torch, illuminating the cave's interior which looked like any typical cave.

Suddenly, a snake, hidden amidst the grass, lunged at him. Viserys effortlessly caught it, preventing its venomous attack. With a swift movement, he crushed its head and tossed it aside.

"Why did Brynden Rivers hide Dark Sister here?"

"Is there a connection between the Kingswood and the Old Gods?"

Viserys continued to delve deeper into the cave. Eventually, he discovered something unusual.

Beneath him, he stepped on a fossilized skull, and then noticed a small mound illuminated by his torchlight. Protruding from it was a gleaming longsword, its brightness undiminished by the decades.

"Dark Sister," Viserys recognized.

He approached, but was more intrigued by the 'mound' beneath the sword. It was made up of skulls, each the size of an egg, some so old they had turned to dust.

Suddenly, a fluttering sound came from behind. Crows, seemingly seeking refuge from the rain, flew in. But, they crazily lunged at Dark Sister, their heads sliced off by the blade.

Their headless bodies crashed against the cave walls before falling into a nearby pool, while the severed heads added to the existing mound.

Chapter 521: Rainy Night

Viserys is retrieving his sword from a cave, while in the Stormlands' camp.

BOOM—

A sudden, jarring thunderclap illuminates the sky with dense lightning. The pensive Stannis is startled, causing the pen in his hand to fall onto the table.

Currently, in the central command tent of the Stormlands' camp, a heavy rain pours outside. This is a characteristic sight in the Stormlands: frequent heavy downpours accompanied by lightning and thunder. Especially after winter, spring lasts about a year. The stormy summer, with its frequent thunderstorms, is approaching.

"Speak," Stannis commands, "how should we defend against the 'tyrant' Viserys' army?"

The tent is well-lit. After being startled by the thunder, Stannis composes himself, takes a deep breath, and scans the room, waiting for answers.

The long table is surrounded by armored Stormlands generals. Most are loyal to House Baratheon. After Renly's death, some nobles left, disgusted by his actions, while others pledged loyalty to Stannis. Compared to 'Kinslayer' Stannis, 'Tyrant' Viserys is more formidable. Fearing Viserys would take their power and lands if he captured the Stormlands, they rally under Stannis against their mutual enemy.

"Viserys, with his treachery, cannot gain the support of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms," says a knight bearing the sigil of House Wylde. "Yet, solely relying on us might not secure victory, given that the tyrant has the support of the Golden Company and the Dothraki."

Another knight sneers, "Relying on foreigners and traitors from the Blackfyre Rebellion? Viserys truly is a 'great king.'"

This sarcastic remark gains nods of approval from the Stormland nobles. Another knight, bearing the sigil of House Connington, says, "I've heard that the Hightower reinforcements, in collaboration with House Tyrell of Highgarden, defeated the Dornish army."

The Dornish forces, after breaking through the borders, have been besieging Highgarden but struggled to capture it. Highgarden, shedding its serene facade, resists fiercely. With the aid of arriving Hightower reinforcements, they temporarily repelled the Dornish.

"Could we ask for aid from House Tyrell?" Sir Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven inquires.

The tent becomes chaotic with mixed opinions.

"It might not be feasible. House Tyrell is occupied, especially since those damned Dornishmen haven't retreated," one lord starts.

"King's Landing!" another interrupts. "The tyrant has left his capital. Perhaps our allies can seize this chance to strike King's Landing!"

"Viserys' Dornish wife bore him a daughter. And the other dragon woman seems to have set off to the Westerlands. If we take King's Landing and capture his wife and child, we needn't fear even dragons," opines Sir Bruce Buckler, leading the earlier charge.

However, his presumptuous words face opposition from Lord Aston Selmy of Harvest Hall, "Dragons can fly from Dragonstone to King's Landing within a day, Sir Bruce. Have you also considered that Stannis' own family is in their hands?"

Stannis remains silent amidst the chaos. His trusted advisor, Ser Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight, seems lost in thought.

"Davos," Stannis suddenly speaks.

"My lord?" Davos responds, realizing Stannis is concerned about the camp's security. Few have fought Viserys and his dragons; apart from the late Lord of Duskendale, only Stannis and Davos remain. The rest are unfamiliar with Viserys and his dragons. Despite the rainy night, Stannis fears a surprise attack.

'Viserys is an enigma,' Stannis thinks.

But he's not overly concerned for his detained family in King's Landing. Given that his brother remains unexecuted and Cersei and Joffrey are still in the Red Keep, Viserys isn't merciless, at least not towards kin.

Yet, not executing Robert hinders Stannis. A coronation would boost his morale and claim. Lately, he's pondered it, but Davos has advised against it, fearing it would tarnish Stannis' remaining reputation.

"Perhaps a coronation on the eve of battle?" Stannis contemplates.

However, Davos remains focused on the upcoming battle. A hasty coronation might just create a short-lived king. Oblivious to Stannis' thoughts, Davos departs.

Outside, he briefly encounters a soldier. Their brief recognition feels familiar.

"Who does he remind me of?" Davos wonders, "Donal Swann, perhaps, Renly's advisor?"

But as he turns, the soldier vanishes.

Chapter 522: The War Begins

Early the next morning, after a night of heavy rain, the road from Wend River to Copper Gate City was muddy.

The Stormland army camped on the hills south of Copper Gate City, with various banners representing different families flying high. Among them was the crowned stag banner of House Baratheon.

"Form up in a line!" "Spearmen to the front!"

From their elevated position, the Stormland forces began to arrange their formations, overlooking the Targaryen army below.

Targaryen knights mounted their steeds and emerged from the camp. In contrast to the many banners of the Stormland representing various families, the Targaryen banners were much more straightforward.

The Targaryen army had diminished the presence of noble houses, as all military power was vested in the state, in the monarchy.

Knights from various families only served as wartime commanders. All soldiers swore allegiance to the nation, not to any specific noble.

Even a new recruit from the Riverlands would not pledge loyalty to a local lord but swear allegiance directly to the king.

Thus, the current banner of the Golden Company, also the kingdom's fourth army, bore the symbol of three dragons above a golden skull on a pale yellow backdrop.

"Form up!" "Form up!"

The vast expanse of the Targaryen army emerged from the camp, with knights on horses loudly commanding the soldiers to get into formation.

"Form a column!" "Move quickly, everyone!"

The heavy rain from the previous night had turned the battlefield into a muddy mess. Soldiers, weapons, and shields in hand, trudged through the mud to get into formation.

Although the downpour had ceased, a light drizzle continued, seemingly never-ending.

The silver-haired young man, who had disappeared into the rain last night, had obviously returned. Viserys, on a white horse, wore Valyrian steel armor and had two long swords at his waist.

One was his personal sword, Twilight, and the other was Dark Sister, which he had found in a cave the previous night.

In that cave, Viserys had drawn Dark Sister from a pile of raven skulls. Outside, a storm had erupted. He suspected a connection with the legendary Storm God.

According to a book Viserys once read, 'The Storm God is the eternal enemy of the drowned god, residing in a hall within the clouds. Ravens are his servants, leading the Ironborn to their doom.'

Given his location in the Stormlands and the stormy weather, coupled with the abundance of raven skulls, it was hard not to associate it with the Storm God.

However, speculation was just speculation. He still needed concrete evidence. Among the raven skulls, he found an unusually large one, as white as jade, buried beneath Dark Sister in the center of the pile.

Upon touching this larger raven skull, he felt an electric shock, his fingers tingling.

However, he couldn't trace the history of this raven skull, as the Old Gods' power wasn't sufficient to show him its past. So, he took the skull and Dark Sister back with him.

At that moment, a horse approached Viserys from the Targaryen formation.

"Your Grace."

Mero, leader of the Golden Company, clad in golden armor with a flowing red cloak, rode up to the hill on a tall black steed, saluting Viserys with a fist to his chest.

Viserys, also on horseback in the rain, greeted Mero with a nod. The commander then led the charge, while Viserys stood by, observing.

"Have you heard the tyrant's dragon is even bigger than Aegon's?"

Whispers spread among the Stormland soldiers as they looked at the Targaryen formation. The armies were nearly equal in number, maybe even fewer Targaryens.

Reports from Highgarden told of the Dornish army's defeat. Viserys had dispatched the Dothraki to assist their allies before leaving King's Landing. The Dothraki were led by Kago, who had served as the cavalry commander of the coalition forces.

"That's nonsense."

Another soldier dismissed the claim.

"How could Viserys's dragon be bigger than Aegon's?" "It's Stannis trying to scare us. How else could he rally so many troops?" "If Viserys's dragon were bigger, why would we even fight?"

However, the overall atmosphere wasn't tense, as the Stormland forces seemed more numerous and had the advantage of higher ground.

In this era, a few principles governed warfare. The side with more soldiers usually won.

The Stormlands were well-prepared, as lords coerced and recruited men, ranging from 14 to 60 years old. The strong were armed, the weak worked in the backlines, and even women were enlisted to cook and tend to wounds.

Then, an eerie silence enveloped the battlefield.

"Everyone, on my command!"

Mero, in his golden armor, drew his sword and roared.

"Charge!"

The battlefield erupted with the sound of horns, war drums, and fierce battle cries.

"Kill! Them! All!"

Chapter 523: The Final Storm

The morning sky was still somewhat dim, and a light drizzle continued to fall on the battlefield where the two armies faced off.

The Targaryen army's horn sounded, echoing throughout the land.

Commander Mys Toyne, confident in his soldiers, immediately gave the order for a full-scale assault.

The vast Targaryen army, which had been stationary, began moving at his command. Their previous formation was as immovable as stone — firm, solemn. But now, with the commander's order, they surged forward like a tidal wave, rushing towards the Stormland army positioned on the southern slope of the Coppergate city.

"Spear-men to the flanks!"

"Prepare the shield wall!"

In the Stormland army, Stannis Baratheon, also atop a hill and surrounded by his guards, overlooked the battlefield.

Seeing the Targaryen army's offensive, his blue eyes remained calm. His posture was straight, conveying his commands with an unwavering demeanor.

"Ready the trebuchets."

"Alert the scorpion ballistae. Watch for Viserys' dragon."

"Yes, my Lord!"

The messenger, upon hearing Stannis' orders, spurred his horse towards the trebuchet positions.

The Stormlanders had invested heavily in war machines. Many were scorpions, capable of threatening dragons. Others were trebuchets, a significant threat to walls and soldiers alike. The descending boulders, covering the sky, were an unmatched intimidation.

"Trebuchets, ready!"

Soldiers pushed massive stones onto the trebuchets, secured them, poured oil, and then set them aflame.

The winding of the trebuchets echoed as they launched the flaming boulders.

Boom!

Rocks rained down like meteors, trailing black smoke. Targaryen soldiers screamed, their formations disrupted by the falling boulders.

"Charge!"

Yet more Targaryen soldiers, clad in golden armor, surged forward without hesitation.

"Archers, ready!"

In the Stormland army, orders were shouted. Knights rode around, rallying their family's soldiers. Archers stepped forward, drawing their bows.

"Fire!"

Arrows blanketed the sky, falling alongside the rain.

Piercing cries echoed as arrows found their marks. Targaryen soldiers raised their shields, deflecting the arrow rain, their arms numbing from the impact. Still, they pressed on.

Merely relying on trebuchets and arrows couldn't halt the Targaryens.

"It's your turn, Balerion."

Viserys, on a hill, looked calmly at the battlefield. Then, with a slight turn of his head, he spoke.

A massive dragon, with blood-red eyes, appeared, responding with a growl.

Balerion stepped forward, the ground quaking. Viserys' steed, accustomed to dragons, remained calm.

"They have many scorpions. Be careful."

Balerion roared in acknowledgment, then soared into the sky.

...

Elsewhere, the Targaryen and Stormland armies clashed.

"Kill!"

A deafening battle cry erupted. Soldiers fought fiercely, steel clashing, cries of pain and death filling the air.

"Kill them all! Reclaim our homeland!"

Commander Mys Toyne of the Golden Company, atop his steed and clad in shining armor, shouted, rallying his men.

"Home!"

"Home!"

Their battle cries intensified.

"Stand firm!"

"Stand your ground!"

The Stormland nobles, seeing their lines faltering, became restless. Stannis himself entered the fray, restoring order. The Stormlanders held their ground, their numbers still superior.

But as Stannis caught his breath, the ground trembled. From afar, a rumbling sound approached. Stannis looked up to see behemoths clad in golden armor, each carrying soldiers and flanked by countless cavalry, charging at both flanks of his army.

Chapter 524: War Elephants

"Seven Hells!"

"What in the name of the Old Gods is that creature?"

Stannis, mounted on his steed, watched as Targaryen cavalry surged from both sides. Yet his gaze was fixed upon the massive beasts among them.

Swearing under his breath, a sight unfamiliar to him caught his eye. Creatures with rough grey skin, immense in size, bearing two massive tusks, and flailing a long trunk.

Their sheer size was daunting. One of these beasts could rival ten warhorses. Clad in armor, they seemed impervious to blades and spears. Charging with the Targaryen cavalry, they tore through the Stormlands' formation like it was nothing.

Screams of horror echoed.

The creature let out a deep bellow, its powerful trunk flinging armored Stormland soldiers as if swatting away chicks. Some were even trampled into the ground.

"It's a war elephant, Lord Stannis!"

Ser Davos, riding alongside Stannis, spoke, shedding light on the mystery. The Onion Knight, having traveled the world with his smuggling crew, was worldly and eloquent.

"These are different from the smaller elephants of Volantis. War elephants are larger, with tougher skin and fiercer temperaments. They usually roam near the lands of the Long Summer."

Davos quickly added, "Volantis also has a war elephant unit, but..."

"Enough! Davos, how do we counter them?" Stannis, ever the military strategist, interrupted as the battle raged on. The initial clash of infantry had been manageable, but the Targaryen cavalry and war elephants disrupted the Stormlands' defense.

Facing these unfamiliar giants, the soldiers were terrified. Many dropped their weapons and fled, with some even being trampled or crushed.

"The... solution to war elephants?"

Davos thought hard. A memory surfaced: he once smuggled elephant tusks and learned that smaller elephant tusks were more valuable due to their delicate texture. To hunt the elephants, hunters would use loud noises like horns and drums to scatter them, then strike.

"My Lord, I recall a method." Davos recounted the tale to Stannis.

"Quick! Summon all horn-blowers!" Without hesitation, Stannis ordered every horn-blower to play loudly, hoping to scare the elephants.

However, as the Golden Company's elephants and cavalry made significant gains, a deep roar echoed from above.

"Roar—"

A massive shadow loomed overhead, casting darkness upon the battlefield.

"What's that?"

Soldiers gazed up to witness a terrifying sight: a dragon.

"A dragon... Is this a true dragon?"

The dragon's appearance spread panic. But behind the Stormland lines, countless large crossbows awaited their moment.

"Dragon!"

"Here comes the dragon!"

"That damned beast!"

The sight of Balerion did not instill fear, but excitement. Stannis had prepared these crossbows for this very moment, promising riches and lands to whoever could bring down the dragon.

"All archers, fire!" A Stormland knight shouted.

Thrum, thrum, thrum—

Arrows tore through the air, one grazing Balerion's wing. Alarmed, the dragon ascended.

"Roar—"

Balerion, recalling past injuries from such weapons, roared in fury. Instead of retreating, he descended, wings flapping mightily, targeting the crossbows below. Opening his maw, a fiery glow emanated from within.

Chapter 525: Escape

The black dragon roared, its massive form weaving through the rain. In a swift descent, it unleashed its dragonfire.

Boom—

The flames from above destroyed many of the large crossbows on the ground. Soldiers of the Stormlands screamed in horror as they were consumed by the inferno.

In retaliation, the dragon was pierced by two bolts from the crossbows. Yet Balerion seemed unbothered. This pain only fueled its bloodlust, its fire continuing to scorch the earth.

Crash—

Catapults were engulfed in the fiery onslaught, their large frames collapsing.

Barrels of oil intended for the catapult's boulders exploded, creating an immense blast. The flames soared high, even forming a small mushroom cloud.

Ah—

Many more Stormlands soldiers were devoured by the flames, their moisture evaporated instantly. Their agonizing screams echoed before their lives were extinguished.

"Counter-attack!"

"Counter-attack!"

Yet, many of the large crossbows the Stormlands army had prepared remained. Not all had been destroyed in Balerion's initial attack.

Some were stationed on flat hillsides; others were hidden within forests, spread out to avoid total annihilation by the dragon's fire.

"Quick! Get up!"

Facing such a mythical creature, the ambitious Stormlands soldiers were initially stunned.

However, once the dragon passed overhead and they were still alive, they regained their senses.

"Kill it!"

"Slay this beast!"

Knights of the Stormlands, riding their horses and looking up at the dragon in the sky, drew their swords in anger.

Thud thud thud—

More bolts from the crossbows were fired, piercing the sky with their shrieking trajectory, yet missing their distant target.

The dragon, when high above, is a smaller target. The larger the crossbow sight, the less likely a hit. Their best chance was to strike when Balerion swooped down.

Yet, with the dragon's swift low flight and the need for multiple soldiers to operate a single crossbow, hitting the beast was not only about skill but also luck.

Roar—

Balerion's roar echoed across the skies.

It cleansed the bolts pierced into its body with its flames, turning them to ash, then dove down again.

The battle intensified. The immense pressure from Balerion in the skies, contrasted with the increasing resistance of the Stormlands army on the ground, made their line shaky and vulnerable.

Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Storm's End and ruler of the Stormlands, couldn't just stand by.

"Deploy the cavalry."

"Yes, my Lord!"

He finally played another card, sending the Stormlands cavalry to engage the Targaryen cavalry, ensuring their main line wouldn't face a flank attack.

Thunderous hooves—

The Stormlands' cavalry began their charge.

Adorned in various familial armors with vibrant sigils and decorations, the rumble of their horses filled the air. Mud splashed beneath their hooves.

"Charge!"

"Drive out these invaders!"

"Protect our homeland!"

The knights of the Stormlands, eager for battle, finally got their chance.

These knights were the true strength of the Stormlands army. Comprising nobles and their retainers, they were well-trained, far superior to any mere conscripts.

With a thundering cavalry charge, the battlefield dynamics shifted once more.

"Charge!"

Clash—

Sword met sword, armor scraped against armor. Occasionally, a knight would fall from his horse, struck down by a spear.

Crash—

Some horses collided, their riders dismounted, scrambling in the mud, knives drawn. The scene was brutal; blades entered and exited flesh.

One of the Golden Company's war elephants, armored in gold, fell, pierced by numerous spears. Its massive body lay among countless Stormlands soldiers, having carved a path of blood and death.

"Devil..."

Many soldiers, having watched the elephant crush their comrades, were emotionally shattered. They dropped their weapons and fled in terror.

However, this massive elephant finally succumbed. With a mournful cry, its massive legs gave out, and it crashed to the ground.

"The devil!"

"The beast is dead!"

"The beast is dead!"

Seeing the fallen war elephant, the Stormlands soldiers cheered in relief.

Yet, the fall of one elephant wasn't enough to change the course of the war. The fierce battle raged from dawn to dusk.

As the sun set, the land was drenched in the blood of soldiers from both sides. The constant sounds of war drums and horns filled the air. Stannis, a seasoned commander, found himself at a loss, unable to change the outcome of this battle.

The Stormlands army couldn't withstand the Targaryen onslaught. With dragons in the sky and roaring war elephants on the ground, their line began to break, eventually collapsing entirely.

"Flee!"

"Run!"

The Stormlands army was routed. Even as Stannis personally tried to rally the troops, executing deserters, the retreat was inevitable.

Some of the enforcers were even killed by the fleeing soldiers, leading to further chaos.

"Lord Stannis!"

"The war is lost, retreat to Storm's End!"

Sir Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight, urged Stannis.

"I won't abandon my men!"

Blood stained Stannis's face. He had just executed several deserters, but the situation was dire.

"You're the commander, not some foot soldier!"

In his urgency, Davos even cursed. He signaled to Stannis's guards.

Understanding his intent, the guards grabbed Stannis and placed him on a horse. Stannis resisted momentarily, shouting in protest, but eventually relented.

He looked back one last time at his soldiers being massacred, his face showing deep regret, then spurred his horse.

"Go!"

Surrounded by his guards, Stannis fled the battlefield.

Chapter 526: Escape to Storm's End

King Viserys took the field himself, leading the Golden Company to confront the rebel leader Stannis and his formidable Stormlands army at the gates of Bronzegate.

The battle raged from dawn to dusk. Stannis' forces initially held their ground against the Targaryen onslaught, even gaining the upper hand for a brief moment, causing significant problems for the Targaryens.

However, the renowned war elephants of the Golden Company and a dragon joining the fray turned the tide of battle, leaving the Stormlands army unable to contend with the rulers of the sky and the earth.

The Stormlanders fought valiantly, defending their homeland. Stannis' command was exemplary, but it was an uphill battle. The blood of soldiers stained the ground.

Ultimately, the Stormlands suffered a crushing defeat at Bronzegate, leaving behind countless dead and fleeing in haste. In their retreat, they lost numerous villages, towns, and castles of the Stormlands.

The Targaryen forces, with the momentum of victory, swiftly conquered Bronzegate, Hay Hall, Harvest Hall, and Felwood.

Facing Viserys, Stannis was consumed by a familiar sense of powerlessness. The last time he felt this way was when he confronted the White Walkers at the Wall, facing an unending horde of the undead. All his battle knowledge and experience seemed worthless then, and it felt the same now facing Viserys.

If it were just the dragons, perhaps there would be hope. But Viserys also had an army of war elephants, creatures from another continent, which struck terror into the hearts of Westerosi soldiers and horses alike.

In this battle, Viserys had only unleashed one of his dragons. He had another tormenting Tywin in the Westerlands, one guarding Pentos, and five more young dragons still growing.

With this overwhelming sense of despair, Stannis, under the protection of his guards, made a hasty retreat to his stronghold, Storm's End.

"Open the gates!"

"Open the gates!"

In the pitch-black night, a group of knights, armored yet worn, approached the gates of Storm's End, holding the charred banner of the Baratheon stag, calling out loudly.

The walls of Storm's End were brightly lit, guarded by Baratheon soldiers. The bad news of the Bronzegate battle had already spread, casting a shadow of despair over Storm's End. Everyone was on edge.

"Halt!"

"Who goes there?"

Recognizing a familiar face, the guards atop the wall shouted, "The cavalry has returned!"

With the sound of a deep horn, the heavy gates of Storm's End opened to welcome the returning knights.

"Here, easy now."

The sound of hooves echoed as the battered forces of the Stormlands entered.

"Help me off my horse," Stannis, equally weary, said as he was assisted by his guards. His legs were chafed and sore, but he bore the pain, merely taking a sharp breath and discarding his gloves.

Several times during his escape, Stannis narrowly avoided being spotted by the dragons. At one point, dragonfire consumed the space right before him, incinerating two of his guards. He managed to dive into a bush just in time, narrowly escaping death.

Fortunately, the geography of the Stormlands was intricate, and though it didn't have as many mountains as the Westerlands or the Vale, it had dense forests. These forests, lush due to the frequent rains, provided cover for Stannis. With the protection of his guards, he evaded capture and returned to Storm's End.

The horn sounded from the walls, and despite the late hour, the castle was abuzz.

Maester Cressen, an elderly man with white hair who now relied on a cane, hurriedly approached.

"Stannis."

Ever since Stannis and his brother Renly turned on each other, and Stannis emerged victorious, Maester Cressen had aged considerably. The once-vigorous old man now appeared frail.

"Stannis, I've heard about the battle. It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes. One or two defeats don't define you."

"Storm's End has ancient magic protecting it. It has never been breached. Even a dragon's fire cannot harm it."

The words of Maester Cressen touched Stannis, but he did not show his vulnerability. He simply nodded and said, "I was merely fortunate to escape."

Looking around, Stannis saw the anxiety on everyone's faces. He paused, then said, "It's late, and the journey has been taxing. Maester, we'll discuss matters tomorrow."

Maester Cressen nodded, and Stannis retreated to his chambers in Storm's End.

Chapter 527: The Death of Stannis

The moon hung high tonight, casting a cool light upon the windowsill. The night was serene, save for the occasional dripping of water from the eaves.

The defeated soldiers from the front line had returned, causing a brief commotion within the walls of Storm's End. But soon, everything settled back to tranquility.

Given the lateness of the hour, most people had returned to their slumber. Yet, within his chambers, a light still burned for Stannis, the Lord of Storm's End.

Sleep eluded Stannis. The defeat at King's Landing haunted him.

He had once believed the White Walkers were his worst nightmare, believing that mankind stood little chance against them. Then the raging battles of Riverrun left him deeply scarred.

An arrow had subsequently struck Stannis in the knee, leading to months of imprisonment before a successful escape.

He thought he had left that nightmare behind, but to his dismay, he found himself plunged into another.

In the recent battle, over thirty thousand men of the Stormlands perished — fathers, sons, brothers. Including the elderly and infirm in support roles, the number would be even more staggering.

He had prepared extensively for this battle, not anticipating that its outcome would cost the future and hope of the entire Stormlands.

The Baratheons had ruled these lands for almost three centuries. Now, how many despised him?

Inside the lord's chamber, the candlelight flickered gently. Stannis sat quietly at his desk, still clad in his armor. His expression remained as always — steadfast, resolute, unyielding like a rock in a mire. Only his breathing seemed heavier than usual.

Lost in thought, Stannis pondered the recent events, including Renly's death and the crushing defeat at King's Landing. Suddenly, a knock sounded at his door.

Knock Knock"Davos?"

"Enter."

Stannis, still somewhat dazed, assumed it was the Onion Knight, his most trusted adviser, who had just returned from the battlefield.

However, he soon realized his mistake, noticing the absence of Davos' usual greeting.

"William?"

Whether due to keen intuition or his suspicious nature, an ominous feeling arose within Stannis.

Instinctively, he grasped the hilt of his sword. He still wore his dusty armor, and the sword remained sheathed. He called out for his guard.

William had been a loyal protector of the Baratheon line for three generations. His father had accompanied Stannis' father, Lord Steffon, on a fateful trip to Essos and perished during a storm upon their return.

Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing a robust young man in Baratheon armor, a bloody sword in hand.

William, the loyal guard, lay dead. The intruder, skilled in combat, had taken him by surprise.

"Guards!"

"Assassin!"

Stannis shouted, summoning the castle guards while drawing his sword, his eyes fixed on the intruder.

"Who are you?"

Recognition dawned on Stannis. The intruder resembled one of Renly's advisers, Donal from Stonehelm. Yet, this man was far more muscular.

"Baron Swann?"

He remembered that the Lord of Stonehelm had another son, known for his strength and combat skills.

Without a word, Baron lunged at Stannis, their swords clashing.

Outside the chamber, guards were assembling, alerted by Stannis' cries. But by the time they entered, it was too late.

Baron had overpowered Stannis, driving his sword through the lord's chest. Blood gushed out as Stannis looked at his attacker, trying to speak but choking on his own blood.

The dagger, once used to kill Renly, clattered to the ground as Stannis' lifeless body fell.

Chapter 528: Balon Swann

Stannis Baratheon is no more.

He met his end at the hands of Balon Swann, second son of House Swann.

Swann sought retribution for his elder brother, Donal Swann, who once stood as a close advisor to Lord Renly Baratheon. However, during the coup where Stannis attempted to seize Storm's End, Donal was killed amidst the chaos.

Given this backdrop, Balon's act of vengeance against Stannis is both understood and justified on moral grounds.

Although after capturing Storm's End, Stannis continuously proclaimed that it was Lord Renly and Viserys who plotted against him, wanting to end his life and hand over the castle. He claimed that he acted first upon receiving leaked information, portraying Lord Renly as a kin-slayer.

Yet, after the seizure of Storm's End, Stannis found no evidence of any plot between Renly and Viserys in the former's private chambers.

In fact, no communication between the two was discovered, save for a single blank sheet of parchment on Renly's desk.

Upon learning this, Stannis locked himself away for three days before ordering this information to be suppressed.

But secrets have a way of getting out, especially when there were still many within the walls of Storm's End who held loyalty and fond memories of Lord Renly, including guards and servants.

In contrast to Stannis, with his ever-present stern face, as if the world owed him a debt, Renly, with his gentle temperament and care for those beneath him, was naturally more beloved.

Thus, whispers of this secret did eventually break out. Though no one dared speak of it before Stannis, hushed conversations took place in private.

When Stannis was found lying in a pool of his own blood, the guards of Storm's End surrounded the murderer and shouted, "Seize him!"

Even though Balon Swann was renowned for his combat skills, after slaying Stannis, he was overwhelmed.

He was eventually besieged by the guards of Storm's End, captured alive, and was tightly bound.

The assassination of Stannis within his chambers was devastating news, especially for Storm's End, leaving many restless that night.

Maester Cressen, upon hearing the news, was stricken with grief. He had foreseen such a day ever since he heard of the calamity at the Battle of the Bronze Gate. Yet, the downfall of House Baratheon was hard to accept, having watched the boys grow. Now, only Robert remained, imprisoned in King's Landing, and his fate was sealed.

Stannis's most trusted advisor, Ser Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight, upon receiving the grim news, was in disbelief. He rushed to the scene.

Balon Swann, tightly bound, was placed at the center of the Great Hall of Storm's End. The nobles, master-at-arms, and maesters of Storm's End all gathered.

"It's murder!" shouted a voice. "Balon Swann has slain Lord Stannis! He must pay with his life!"

Ser Davos, filled with rage, addressed the gathered nobles, his gaze fixed on Balon Swann, the murderer of his dear friend.

The lords of the Stormlands, including Alexander Estermont, known as the 'Penny-counting Lord', wearing a badge with a dagger through a heart, sat discussing the fate of Balon Swann.

Another lord, Costayne of the Crow's Nest, wearing a badge of a raven, and Lady Mertyns of Mistwood, with an owl badge, sat by his side.

Alexander Estermont addressed Davos, "Ser Davos, please calm yourself."

Despite not voicing her thoughts, Lady Mertyns's eyes reflected a look of disdain.

These lords, who once looked down on Davos for his smuggling past, now addressed him as a lord, a title earned through his loyalty to Stannis.

Davos took a deep breath to calm himself, looking at the lifeless body of Stannis, his heart heavy with grief, before taking his seat.

All were present in the Great Hall, the atmosphere thick with tension. Lord Estermont cleared his throat before addressing Balon Swann.

"Ser Balon Swann," he began, "You stand accused of the heinous crime of murdering Lord Stannis, with evidence undeniable. You face the sentence of death. Do you plead guilty?"

Balon Swann, his bound form struggling against the guards, defiantly responded, "I do not plead guilty!"

"Oh?" Costayne of the Crow's Nest interjected, "So you deny slaying Lord Stannis?"

"No, I admit to killing Stannis," Balon Swann declared, "But I reject the charge of murder. Stannis killed Lord Renly and my own brother! The Father Above grants us the right to judge, to seek revenge, and to uphold justice. I avenged Lord Renly and sought justice for my brother's death, passing judgment on Stannis!"

As Balon Swann's powerful voice echoed through the Great Hall, the lords of the Stormlands exchanged glances, weighing their next move.

Chapter 529: Trial by Combat

As soon as the words of Barron Swen fell, the great hall of Storm's End erupted in outrage. A murderer had the audacity to be so brazen within the walls of Storm's End.

"Damn that savage!"

"Get him!"

"I'll kill him!"

"I'll rip his tongue out!"

While Stannis, due to his personal disposition and the moniker of "kinslayer", wasn't particularly popular, he still had many supporters, especially among the lower-ranked soldiers and sergeants.

After all, this was Storm's End, a castle that the Baratheon family had ruled for nearly three centuries. Many servants here had served several generations of the Baratheon line.

Upon hearing Barron Swen's words, they were all filled with anger, expressing their desire to take revenge.

Furthermore, Barron Swen hails from the Marches, with House Swen of Stonehelm being a powerful vassal in the area. Thus, when Stannis called for support, they could conveniently ignore the summons, and Stannis couldn't retaliate.

However, due to regional biases within the Stormlands and Riverlands, those from the prosperous Riverlands looked down on people from the Marches and Stormlands. Even though they all lived on the same land.

So, they referred to Barron Swen as a "savage." The burly men from the Marches stared back defiantly, undeterred.

"Come on!"

"Free my hands, and I'll let you try to rip out my tongue!"

Loyal soldiers of Storm's End and Barron Swen exchanged heated words, while the noble lords of the Stormlands in the central seats exchanged glances.

"Enough."

It was once again Lord Alexander of Longbow Hall, who played peacemaker, stopping the verbal confrontations below.

"Let's remain calm. Our main concern now is to address the current situation."

"With the death of Lord Stannis, what should our next steps be?"

Lady Mari of Mistwood, with a cold smirk, chimed in, "Remember, Targaryen forces are approaching Storm's End from just a hundred miles away."

The room fell silent at Lady Mari's words. With the backbone of their leadership gone and enemies approaching, the room was filled with uncertainty.

"I've heard what Sir Barron Swen said," started Lord Alexander, "and there is some truth in his words."

"Regardless, Stannis did kill Renly, committing fratricide."

"He also killed Sir Barron's elder brother. Sir Barron's vendetta against Stannis is justified."

"Avenging one's kin is a sacred right granted to us by the Father."

As everyone in the great hall remained silent, pondering their next move, the quiet Lord Morgan of the Eyrie spoke up.

"While the Father grants us these sacred rights, Sir Barron did kill Lord Stannis."

"He should face a trial by combat and let the gods decide his fate."

Sir Barron inhaled deeply, relief evident in his eyes. "I admit to killing Stannis."

"I am willing to face a trial by combat and let the gods decide if I should live."

The great hall of Storm's End remained silent, the tension palpable.

Ser Davos Seaworth, the Onion Knight, remained silent throughout, his face stern and eyes scanning every individual present.

His smuggling past had made him adept at reading people. The atmosphere in the hall was eerie. Everyone had changed since the death of Stannis.

From the outraged soldiers to the three noble lords with their own agendas, all had a hint of panic in their eyes.

Except for Maester Cressen.

Davos couldn't bear to look at the old maester's lifeless face, especially as the three Stormland lords continued their charade in front of their deceased liege.

"Ser Davos, would you be willing to fight for Lord Stannis?" Lord Morgan suddenly asked.

Davos hesitated for a moment, then replied, "I'd gladly fight for Lord Stannis, but I'm not skilled in combat and wouldn't be able to deliver a fair trial."

As the room filled with soft laughter, a dragon's roar echoed above Storm's End, signaling the chapter's end.

Chapter 530: "The Surrender of Storm's End"

Viserys, alone, descended upon Storm's End astride a black dragon.

The ongoing trial in the hall of Storm's End was promptly interrupted. Everyone left the hall, looking skyward in anticipation.

Upon the massive black dragon's landing, a silver-haired young man dismounted. The stormlanders—both nobles and guards—looked on apprehensively, not daring to approach.

"Is that Viserys?" Few within Storm's End had seen Viserys firsthand. Yet, his signature silver-golden hair, light-purple eyes, handsome face, and the immense black dragon he rode were proof enough of his identity.

They still found it hard to believe their eyes.

For some time now, Viserys was the enemy they wished to dismember and whose blood they thirsted for.

Why would he have the audacity to come alone to Storm's End? How could he be so bold?

The stormland nobles exchanged glances, seeing shock and fear mirrored in each other's eyes.

Viserys' arrival was abrupt and impeccably timed. With the presumed death of Stannis, Storm's End lacked leadership. No one was prepared to take charge.

Yet Viserys seemed to anticipate this, making his daring entrance even more audacious.

The mere presence of the dragon, its head raised high, its blood-red eyes glaring down, made any sudden moves risky. A single blast of its fiery breath could incinerate them all.

The nobles of Storm's End were petrified by Viserys' audacious arrival.

They exchanged glances. Lord Morrigen of the Eyrie subtly gripped his sword hilt, glancing at Lord Alexander Stedmon of Longbow Hall.

The latter discreetly shook his head, indicating restraint. Lady Mari Merryweather of Mistwood appeared pale.

All eyes turned to Ser Davos, the Onion Knight.

"Ser Davos..."

It was only then they remembered Davos' exceptional diplomatic skills. As one of Stannis' most trusted advisors, they hoped he could manage the situation. Moreover, Davos was the only one among them who had previously met Viserys.

But seeing Davos' grave expression, they realized the truth of the young dragonlord's identity.

Steeling himself, Davos approached, offering a respectful bow. "Your Grace. May I inquire the purpose of your late visit to Storm's End?"

His words confirmed the identity of the silver-haired youth.

He was indeed the newly crowned king in King's Landing.

"I heard Stannis is dead."

Viserys had been observing Storm's End since he arrived. It lived up to its reputation as one of the most formidable strongholds of the Seven Kingdoms.

When he was younger, Viserys had come to Storm's End to evade a storm that threatened the last Targaryen fleet. Now, the tables had turned.

Seeing the fear in the eyes of the stormland nobles, Davos posed a question, "Was Barron Swann dispatched by you to assassinate Stannis?"

Barron Swann, still bound, looked confused at the accusation.

"No. Barron Swann wasn't sent by me," Viserys replied. "Do you think I need such tactics for Stannis? If I wanted him dead this way, he would have been long gone."

He noticed the trepidation of the crowd and fixed his gaze on Davos once more.

"I saw it with my own eyes," Viserys said, pointing to his eyes. He then patted Davos' shoulder and made his way to the hall, presumably to see Stannis. No one from the stormland dared to stop him, leaving Davos standing there, stunned.

Chapter 531: The Siege of Starfall

Viserys single-handedly captured Storm's End.

The nobles of the Stormlands, upon seeing this 'Conqueror', behaved much like ostriches, burying their heads in the sand and staying silent.

Viserys sat in the great hall of Storm's End, with the body of Stannis displayed at its center. The Stormland nobles hid in the shadows of the hall, only to be called out by Viserys, shuffling forth tremblingly.

The events of that night were so monumental that they would undoubtedly be recorded in history books, critiqued by future generations. Besides the ridicule directed at the three Stormland nobles, there was a growing awe for the young king.

A single man capturing a castle was the stuff of legends. It was then that people realized that Viserys's unification of the Seven Kingdoms seemed unstoppable.

Days after Viserys's solitary conquest of Storm's End, the Targaryen army finally arrived, officially annexing the Stormlands into their kingdom.

Elsewhere, the forces aligned with Queen Arianne, the Dornish army, suffered a defeat at Highgarden and retreated hundreds of miles, regrouping at Starfall.

Starfall was a strategic location, a gateway from Dorne to Highgarden.

Following the Dornish victory at the Marches and the capture of Nightsong, the army set its sights on Highgarden. Starfall, lying in their path, was inevitably affected.

However, the Lord of Starfall, Titus Peake, quickly surrendered when the Dornish forces approached. He knew he couldn't withstand them and that their primary target was Highgarden. Moreover, Lord Titus had distant relatives on the Iron Throne's side...

Leyton Peake, a commander of the Golden Company and an exiled lord, didn't join Viserys's campaign in the Stormlands. Instead, he departed shortly after the retaking of King's Landing, heading straight for Dorne. He was tasked by Princess Rhaenys, then on the Iron Throne, to facilitate communication between the Targaryen and Dornish forces.

Leyton gladly accepted, traveling with his brothers, Tommen Peake and Pycelle Peake, to Dorne. The subsequent war saw the Marcher Lords defeated by the Dornish.

Before this, Leyton had reached out to his distant relative, Titus Peake of Starfall, hoping for a surprise attack on the Marcher Lords. But Titus had declined, mainly due to his disdain for his exiled 'poor relative' and his confidence in his own liege, House Tyrell.

He hadn't expected the Marcher Lords to fall so quickly, nor did he anticipate that the Dornish, after taking Nightsong, would head straight for Highgarden.

When a desperate Titus sought Leyton's help, the tables had turned, with Leyton now in a dominant position. Titus's wife, Margaery Lannister, fell victim to Leyton's long-held desires. Using the king's alleged disdain for the Lannisters as a pretext, Leyton took her. Nights in the Peake brothers' chambers were filled with revelry. Titus bore the humiliation, becoming the butt of many jokes, all for the hope of survival.

However, as Titus believed his alignment with the Dornish and the Targaryens would secure his future, dire news arrived. The renowned 'Guardian of the Stoneway,' Lord Anders Yronwood, leading the Dornish army, was ambushed by the Hightower forces during the siege of Highgarden.

With support from the Oldtown reinforcements and the Tyrell forces of Highgarden, the Dornish army was defeated. The Riverlands army didn't let the Dornish retreat peacefully. They regrouped at Starfall.

This news stunned Titus. He'd backed the Riverlands and they lost. Then he sided with Dorne, and they too faced defeat.

No matter where in the world, traitors are rarely shown mercy. As Titus grappled with the situation, a servant from Starfall approached him. This servant was a spy for House Tyrell in Starfall.

Willas Tyrell, the heir of Highgarden and the de facto commander of the Riverlands army, communicated through this spy. He conveyed that if Titus performed a certain task, his betrayal would be overlooked, and his wife would be rescued...

That night in Starfall:

"Father," Lord Roze Allyrion, a knight of Godsgrace, said, one hand resting on his sword hilt.

His father-in-law, the leader of the Dornish army, Lord Anders Yronwood, looked gravely at a map, trying to strategize. Ever since the failed siege of Highgarden, Lord Anders had been restless. Roze, concerned more for his own interests than his father-in-law's health, suggested considering Willas's proposal.

The Riverlands army, led in name by Lord Mace Tyrell but effectively commanded by his eldest son, Willas, had Starfall surrounded. Willas had merged the forces of House Hightower and House Tyrell. They appeared poised to vanquish the entire Dornish army.

Willas also hinted at negotiations: if Lord Anders surrendered, House Tyrell would aid House Yronwood against House Martell, restoring Yronwood's former glory as 'High Kings of Dorne.'

Chapter 532: The Siege of Starpike Castle

Count Anders Yronwood, commander of the Dornish army, sat in his wheelchair, intently studying a map and contemplating his strategy against the enemy. He looked up sharply upon hearing his son-in-law's words.

"Silence!"

Anders Yronwood's hair bore streaks of gray, and he fixed a stern gaze upon his son-in-law, Roger Allyrion, before rebuking him in a strict tone.

"Roger, never speak such words again!"

Decades ago, due to an affair his lover had, Anders' grandfather, Edgar Yronwood, had dueled with a sixteen-year-old Oberyn Martell. Both were slightly injured, but days later, Edgar succumbed to an infection. Many believed Oberyn had poisoned his blade, earning him the moniker "The Red Viper." This incident strained the relationship between House Martell and House Yronwood.

Despite the familial discord, Prince Doran maintained a close personal bond with Anders Yronwood. They were of similar age and shared a deep friendship. To mend the relationship with House Yronwood after Oberyn's incident, Prince Doran sent his young son, Quentyn Martell, to be fostered under Count Anders, as a gesture of goodwill.

Thus, the Martells and Yronwoods now enjoyed a harmonious relationship. Prince Doran deeply trusted his friend Anders, and Anders, in turn, understood Doran well.

Prince Doran Martell was a cautious and reserved man, always strategic and never revealing his emotions. Although he had handed over much of Dorne's power to Anders, appointing him commander of the army and entrusting him with the assault on the Riverlands, Anders knew that the prince had many spies in the ranks. He trusted no one completely.

Anders feared that his son-in-law's careless words might reach the prince. While reclaiming the ancient title of 'High King of Dorne' for House Yronwood was tempting, Anders resisted the allure, aware of the potential traps behind such enticing offers.

Seeing the stern look on his father-in-law's face, Roger Allyrion appeared slightly embarrassed and chose to remain silent.

Suddenly, a clamor arose from outside.

"The gates have opened!"

"Charge!"

Muffled cries of battle could be heard, though the sounds were distant from Anders' chamber.

"Listen!"

Both the Dornish commander and his son-in-law, battle-hardened warriors, were keenly attuned to the slightest disturbance.

"Father!"

Sir Roger's expression changed, and he exchanged a quick glance with his father-in-law. Grasping the hilt of his sword, he swiftly stood.

"Roger, find out what's happening. Be cautious."

Count Anders remained calm, issuing his orders with a cool demeanor.

"Yes, my lord."

Sir Roger Allyrion then exited, sword in hand, to assess the situation outside, ordering guards to fortify their defenses and ensure the count's safety.

Outside, Titus Peake, Lord of Starpike, pulled his bloodied sword from a fallen Dornish soldier and hurled the body from the battlements.

Peake, descendant of the illustrious 'Greenhand' Garth, still bore his house's three castle sigil, a reminder of their historical dominance in the Reach. But in recent times, due to political missteps, House Peake had fallen from grace.

Still, Lord Titus managed to rally a loyal group of soldiers and, that night, staged a surprise revolt, killing the guards and taking a gate of Starpike. This bold move was unexpected, as he had appeared submissive for a long time.

"Drive out these Dornish barbarians!"

"Defend the gates!"

Lord Titus, sword dripping with blood, bellowed.

"Charge!"

The soldiers of House Peake, long resentful of the Dornish occupiers, fiercely defended their reclaimed gate.

As flames raged above Starpike, and internal strife erupted within the Dornish ranks, the armies of the Reach outside seized this golden opportunity.

"The time for vengeance has come, father."

Mace Tyrell, nominal commander of the army, looked to his son, Willas. Without hesitation, Willas ordered the assault.

"They've invaded our lands, burned our homes, killed our children, and defiled our wives. We've endured enough humiliation. Now, we repay them in kind!"

Willas Tyrell, always the gentle and cultured heir of Highgarden, stood, pulling his sword, and cried out,

"Drive out these savages!"

And with that, the knights of the Reach, their spirits ignited, prepared to charge.

"Revenge!"

"Blood for blood!"

Chapter 533: The Battle of the Lame - Battle for Cripple's Keep

Count Tyrus of Casterly Star was caught in a dilemma, wavering between surrender and rebellion. In a sudden assault, he successfully captured one of the city gates, holding firm until reinforcements from the Riverlands arrived.

The Dornish forces, caught off guard, rallied fiercely. Battles erupted both inside and outside Casterly Star, with war cries echoing throughout.

"Kill them!"

Blood-soaked, Tyrus of Casterly Star wielded his longsword, slashing left and right, repelling wave after wave of the Dornish onslaught. Only then did he find a moment to catch his breath.

The thunderous hooves of Riverlands knights filled the city, significantly easing the pressure on Tyrus.

The night was at its darkest, yet Casterly Star was ablaze. Flames, ignited by an unknown party, roared skyward.

Count Tyrus, witnessing his homeland consumed by fire, was filled with mixed emotions.

He briefly regretted siding with the Riverlands. But soon, he steeled himself, clutching his fist.

"No."

"I have no regrets."

He was always a noble of the Riverlands. He had merely been misled by traitors and had betrayed his homeland and sworn liege.

Now, Tyrus believed he was on the right path.

"Margaery."

The thought of his wife, still in the enemy's grasp, pierced his heart. He owed her an apology.

"Follow me, all of you!"

Surveying the chaotic battlefield below the city walls, Tyrus, with sword in hand, beckoned the soldiers of Casterly Star to his side.

No one knew the city's layout better than he did. He intended to lead a rescue mission for his wife and personally slay the fiends who had dishonored her.

Elsewhere, the fierce battle in Casterly Star raged on.

The stored wildfire in the city was ignited, its bright flames painting the sky red.

"Hold the line!"

"Hold!"

"Don't panic!"

Sir Roger Allyrion of Sunspear, swinging his sword, struck down several deserters, attempting to control the ensuing chaos.

The Dornish, although fiercely resisting, were disorganized. Soldiers were separated from their commanders, and leaders couldn't locate their troops.

"Follow my command!"

However, his shouts reached only a few Dornish soldiers close to him.

Suddenly, Sir Roger Allyrion grabbed a passing Dornish noble – the younger brother of Lemonwood's knight, Ser Danyel Dalt, named Andre Dalt.

The young Dornish warrior, breathless and visibly shaken, was experiencing his first taste of battle. War was entirely different from individual combat.

"Are you Andre Dalt?"

Recognizing the young Lemonwood knight's crest, Sir Roger Allyrion shouted orders.

"Go!"

"Tell your brother to gather his forces and regroup with me!"

"Now!"

With that, he gave the young knight a shove.

"Yes, sir!"

Andre Dalt, reinvigorated by the command, raced to find his brother, Ser Danyel Dalt.

"Regroup with me!"

"Take that tower! Quickly!"

...

The battle within Casterly Star was intense. After the initial panic, the Dornish forces began to regroup and stabilize under effective leadership.

Leading the Dornish forces, Count Anders Yronwood, seated in his wheelchair, took a vantage point within Casterly Star to command the battle.

His guards fended off several Riverlands soldiers, killing them and casting their bodies off the walls.

On the other side, the Riverlands' de facto leader, the crippled heir to Highgarden, Willas Tyrell, despite his injuries, rode his steed to the frontlines.

"Help me dismount."

Assisted by his soldiers, Willas, with a cane in hand, ascended the city walls, taking direct command.

Several arrows whizzed past, yet Willas remained unfazed, standing alongside his soldiers.

The battle raged throughout the night, primarily due to the fierce resistance of the Dornish. Only at dawn did the situation become clear.

Despite their tenacity, the Dornish forces found their numbers dwindling and their control of the city shrinking.

Both sides clashed repeatedly, leaving layers of corpses in their wake. Eventually, the Dornish were cornered within the central keep, while the Riverlands forces dominated the rest.

Count Anders Yronwood, along with many other Dornish nobles, was besieged in the main fort, with the situation growing dire.

"The war is over!"

"Father!"

Sir Roger Allyrion, covered in blood and gasping for breath, entered the room to address his father-in-law.

"Reconsider!"

"For the sake of more brothers living!"

Count Anders Yronwood, seated in his wheelchair, remained silent, his breathing heavy.

Elsewhere.

"The war has ended."

Willas Tyrell, leaning on his cane, surveyed the battlefield, finally allowing himself a sigh of relief.

His eyes, red from exhaustion, reflected the night's sleepless command.

"We've done our duty, father."

Willas then turned to his father, Mace Tyrell, and his brothers, gallant Garlan Tyrell and young Loras Tyrell.

Loras, originally meant to be Renly's squire at Storm's End, had been fortunate to remain in Highgarden due to the war.

Mace Tyrell, looking at his talented eldest son, smiled with pride.

A true gem, if only Willas hadn't broken his leg.

Suddenly, a distant rumbling echoed, resembling the stampede of countless horses or a sudden thunderstorm.

"Hmm?"

"What's that sound?"

Garlan Tyrell was the first to react, trying to identify the source of the noise by scanning the cloudless sky.

Willas Tyrell, also hearing the sound, looked up, his expression shifting to one of alarm.

Chapter 534: Reinforcements Arrive

Underneath the clear skies, what could possibly sound like thunder? If it wasn't thunder, what then could it be? Varys stood atop the castle walls, leaning on his staff, and couldn't resist glancing back.

The terrain of the Riverlands is flat and expansive. Beyond the gates of Riverrun is an open field stretching far beyond the eye can see, the morning sun casting its glow upon it, causing the grass to sway gently with the breeze.

Yet, at the end of the horizon, that faint thundering grew increasingly ominous.

Rumble, rumble...

It wasn't just Varys. Garlan Lannister, young Jaime, their father, Duke Tywin, and the common soldiers of the Riverlands all sensed the anomaly, turning their heads to look.

"What is that noise?"

The rotund Lord Mace Tyrell had a puzzled look on his face, turning to his eldest son. However, he was met with the grim expression on Varys's face.

"Prepare for battle!"

"Prepare for battle!"

Varys, his face fraught with tension, didn't waste time explaining to his father. Using his staff for support, he approached the edge of the walls and shouted commands to the Tyrell soldiers below.

"Form ranks!"

"Face the rear!"

"Quickly!"

Yet many of the Riverlands soldiers stationed behind were confused upon hearing Varys Tyrell's orders. Their enemies were ahead, so why were they asked to face the rear?

"Haven't we already won this battle?"

"What's happening now?"

Some soldiers, holding their spears, expressed their doubts amidst the misaligned ranks.

"Who knows?" Another shrugged.

The Riverlands, like the Stormlands, had seen years of war, leading to a shortage of trained soldiers. New recruits were hastily added from the abundant Riverlands populace, leading to a decline in overall military quality.

"Form up, now!"

Varys's younger brother, 'Gallant' Garlan Tyrell, quickly grasped the gravity of the situation. He rushed down from the walls, mounted his warhorse, drew his longsword, and bellowed commands.

"Form up!"

"Move! Quickly!"

Riverrun isn't vast. Dornish tents had been pitched outside its gates the previous night. After a battle that spanned the castle's interior and exterior, many Riverlands soldiers remained outside the castle, making it impossible to shut the gates.

They couldn't just leave their brethren outside the walls. It would mean the end of hope for the Riverlands.

"Outside the gates!"

"Form ranks outside!"

"Prepare to meet the enemy!"

"Guard the gates!"

Varys, leaning on the battlements, shouted his commands. The Riverlands soldiers, roused into action, grabbed their weapons, and in disarray, formed ranks outside the gates. But before they could solidify their positions...

Far in the distance, the horizon's thundering grew louder.

Rumble, rumble...

The first galloping horse appeared, then the second, the third... a horde of Dothraki screamers, wearing animal hide armor, charged forth. Under the piercing sun, they brandished their arakhs, reflecting a cold, menacing gleam, as they screamed their war cries.

"Ohhhhh!"

Their chilling howls, like ghosts wailing, echoed throughout the battlefield, accompanied by the overwhelming pressure of their charge.

Many Riverlands soldiers had never seen such a spectacle, swallowing hard in fear.

Atop Riverrun's walls, Lord Mace Tyrell's face paled.

"Is this the barbarian army under Viserys?"

He'd heard of Viserys commanding a Dothraki horde, but to the high lords of the Riverlands, the Dothraki from another continent were but legends.

Beside Lord Mace, Varys stared blankly at the approaching, endless tide of Dothraki cavalry, his mind reeling. Although well-read in strategy, this was an enemy like none he'd ever studied.

No, he had read of them.

Varys recalled a book mentioning the Dothraki, and a shiver ran down his spine. Four hundred years before the War of the Usurper, the Unsullied of Qohor successfully held off Khal Temmo and his 20,000 screamers. After the battle, including Khal Temmo, his sons, all the khals, three bloodriders, and 12,000 Dothraki lay dead.

While he recalled a successful defense against the Dothraki, Varys showed no signs of relief.

"Hold the line!"

"Be brave, lads! Be brave!"

Seeing his usually confident eldest son, Varys, in a daze, Lord Mace Tyrell, though knowing his own limited abilities, stepped up to boost the soldiers' morale.

"Grip your spears tight! There's nothing to fear!"

Lord Mace's mustache quivered as he clenched his fists, sweat forming in his palms.

Although he spoke words of encouragement, deep down, he was terrified. Yet, he couldn't show it in front of his soldiers and children.

Lord Mace's efforts to boost morale did have an effect. Seeing their usually aloof Lord Mace Tyrell in the thick of it with them, the soldiers felt a decrease in their anxiety, gripping their spears tighter.

At that moment, Varys snapped back to reality, seeing his father's resolve. Taking a deep breath, he began shouting orders.

"Hold formation!"

"Raise shields!"

"Spears ready!"

Swish...

Rows of spears pointed out from the gaps in the shields.

Feeling the ground tremble and hearing the approaching hoofbeats, every Riverlands soldier, hidden behind the shield wall, swallowed hard, their hearts racing with the rhythm of the approaching horde.

Chapter 535: Slaughter

In an ideal world, the situation seemed perfect. However, the real scenario depicted the vast army of the Riverlands as cumbersome due to its overwhelming size. The command systems of this era were woefully outdated.

Varys hastily ordered a retreat, facing the approaching enemy. Yet, it would take some time before all soldiers could receive and act on this order.

Soldiers at the forefront were still engaging the remnants of the Dornish army, oblivious to the looming danger behind them.

Rearward troops, primarily green boys and untrained new recruits, struggled to form ranks on Varys' orders. While some in the center managed to set up a spear and shield formation, those on the flanks remained in disarray. Some soldiers, wielding spears, looked around in confusion, unsure of their position.

The Dothraki, however, allowed no time for reorganization. They charged without giving the fresh soldiers a chance to find their positions.

"Ohhhh!"

Under the glaring sun, they brandished their arakhs, howling like wolves, charging from every direction.

The speed of the Dothraki charge was staggering. When Varys first spotted them, they were mere specks on the horizon, but within moments, they were upon them.

"For the Dragon Khal!"

"For Khaleesi!"

Having witnessed Daenerys riding a massive dragon to victory, the Dothraki revered strength. To them, Daenerys was nearly as respected as Viserys, considered a deity by these superstitious horse lords.

"Slay these men in iron clothes!"

"Tear down their stone houses!"

Khal Drogo unsheathed his Valyrian steel arakh, bellowing with rage.

"Hold the line!"

"Stand firm!"

From the battlements of Harrenhal, Varys drew his sword and shouted.

Soon, like a rising tide, the endless Dothraki horde crashed into the Riverlands' formation.

Boom, boom, boom!

Blindfolded warhorses rammed into the Riverlands' shield wall. Spears impaled them, eliciting agonized whinnies, but the sheer force of their charge disrupted the formation, scattering soldiers like leaves in the wind.

Dothraki riders thrown from their mounts met quick deaths, skewered by a sea of spears, their bodies pooling in their own blood.

Yet, this was only the first wave of the Dothraki onslaught. Wave after wave of horse lords, showing no fear of death, continued to crash against the shield wall, tearing it apart.

The Dothraki believed that warriors who died in battle would become stars in the sky, while cowards did not deserve such an honor.

"Kill this man in iron clothes!"

On the chaotic battlefield, a seasoned bloodrider expertly wielded a lasso.

Seizing an opportunity, he threw it, ensnaring a Riverlands knight bearing the crest of House Clegane around his neck.

With a swift pull, the Clegane knight was yanked off his horse, and dragged away like discarded prey.

This all happened so swiftly that no one could assist. This sudden disruption created a gap in the Riverlands' formation.

"Ohhhh!"

Cheering for their successful bloodrider, more Dothraki surged through the breach, widening it further.

The unfortunate Clegane knight was trampled under countless hooves, his armor crushed, blood spewing from his mouth, dying amidst desperate screams.

Outside the city, war raged as the Dothraki attacked.

Yet, Dornish forces still held key positions within Harrenhal, including the central tower.

Lord Anders Yronwood of Dorne, who had been on the brink of despair, saw hope.

"When one door closes, another opens."

Lord Yronwood, his hair grayer than the night before, felt rejuvenated at the sight of the Dothraki horde. He closed and then reopened his eyes with newfound determination.

"Counter-attack!"

"Tell all our soldiers, reinforcements have arrived!"

With that, the beleaguered Dornish forces burst from the castle.

"Charge!"

Together with the Dothraki, they recreated the Battle of Highgarden, trapping the Riverlands' army in a deadly pincer.

Elsewhere, Lord Titus Peake of Harrenhal led his men to rescue his wife but tragically fell to his death during a duel with his distant cousin, Laswell Peake.

Varys Tyrell, heir to Highgarden and a scholarly man who frequented the Citadel and studied under Maester Naemos, realized the dire situation. Despite Naemos' vast knowledge of military strategy, he had never led a single soldier. Varys, his student, had successfully defended Highgarden once, but now, faced an unpredictable situation.

The battlefield turned chaotic as the Riverlands' forces were scattered by the Dothraki onslaught. The Dornish, seizing the opportunity, joined the fray. The combined forces obliterated the Riverlands' soldiers.

"It's over," Varys realized, the cold truth setting in.

"Garlan, ensure father and Loras escape."

With heavy heart, Varys leaned against the battlements, making a painful decision. Without looking back, he whispered hoarsely.

Chapter 536: Duel

Garlan: "Elder brother, what about you?"

Upon hearing his brother's words, Garlan was taken aback.

Now, Lord Mace Tyrell and his youngest son, Loras, had donned disguises, preparing for an opportunity to escape.

Willas, leaning on the battlement with a raspy voice: "There are still so many soldiers here, many men of the Riverlands. The war isn't over. I shall remain."

Willas: "Fear not. I am of more use alive; they won't kill me so easily."

Willas's decision was firm and irrevocable. Even the pleas from his father and brother were in vain.

Reluctantly, Garlan had no choice but to lead his father and younger brother out of the castle, guarded by the sentinels.

From atop the walls, Willas watched his father and two younger brothers retreat into the distance.

However, they didn't anticipate that their escape from the Starfall Castle would soon be noticed by the Dothraki.

Dothraki War Cry: "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!"

A group of Dothraki warriors mounted their horses and swiftly pursued, surrounding the Tyrell carriage and its guards.

Garlan the Gallant: "To your deaths!"

'Garlan the Gallant' was a moniker given to him by Willas. As a child, Garlan was plumper, and Willas, fearing his brother would be ridiculed, named him 'the Gallant' to protect him from mockery.

As he grew, Garlan lived up to the nickname. Towering and robust, he surpassed his brothers in strength and skill. He could easily fend off three or four soldiers alone.

However, Garlan, despite his training within the walls of the castle, was still inexperienced against real killers. The Dothraki's upbringing was much harsher, and their combat skills were more practical.

Moreover, Garlan was facing Khal Drogo, the commander of the entire Dothraki army.

Drogo spotted the carriage leaving Starfall Castle and knew it carried significant figures.

Garlan, in shining armor, pointing his spear: "For Highgarden!"

But he was easily dodged by the agile Dothraki.

Clang! Clang!

Their weapons clashed fiercely. Garlan's spear bore distinct marks, almost snapped by the Valyrian steel blade.

Garlan: "Valyrian steel?"

Garlan was shocked and angered, not expecting a 'savage' to wield Valyrian steel.

The two circled each other, ready for another assault. This time, Drogo didn't hold back. He seemed exhilarated by the challenge.

Drogo discarded his fur armor, revealing his muscular physique. He brandished his arakh, charging once more.

In a swift move, he severed the legs of Garlan's horse—a typical Dothraki tactic. The proud rose knight was caught off guard.

Garlan and his horse tumbled to the ground, his helmet crushed.

Garlan, gasping: "Damn savages!"

As Garlan struggled up, spitting out the soil from his mouth, Drogo dismounted, discarding his weapons, and challenged him with bare hands.

The surrounding Dothraki warriors, seeing the duel, cheered loudly. The Dothraki respected brave warriors and despised cowards.

Garlan, drawing his sword: "Come then!"

The Dothraki encircled the battleground, lifting their arakhs in salute to the bravery displayed. They respected warriors and looked down upon cowards.

Dothraki War Cry: "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!"

Chapter 537: The Executioner's Justice

"Strike!"

With a battle cry, the knight from the Riverlands, sword in hand, lunged fiercely, aiming his blade at Khal Cago of the Bloodriders.

At that moment, Khal Cago had discarded all his weapons, unarmed and unarmored, but he moved with an agility that seemed almost supernatural against the armored knight from the Riverlands.

Whoosh~

Ser Garlan Tyrell's strike met only air as Khal Cago deftly evaded the blow. His long braid, adorned with bells, whipped behind him, the bells jingling with each movement.

Whoosh~ Whoosh~

The Riverlands knight pressed forward, sword swinging, determined to bring down this arrogant Dothraki. But Cago dodged each strike with ease.

Whoosh~

As Ser Garlan unleashed another sweeping strike, Khal Cago used his braid to distract and swiftly moved behind him.

"Come!"

"Kill me!"

"They live if you do!"

The Dothraki warrior taunted in broken Common Tongue, having learned some of the language during his time in Westeros accompanying Viserys.

Cago pointed to a fallen Mace Tyrell and Garlan's younger brother, Loras, who wasn't yet the renowned Knight of Flowers but merely a terrified boy.

Khal Cago's challenge was clear: if Ser Garlan could defeat him, the two would be spared. But if he failed, all three Tyrells would meet their end together, in accordance with an ancient Dothraki custom. The prestige of a Khal was often built upon one-on-one duels.

"Brother, save me!"

"I don't want to die!"

Loras' desperate cries added pressure to the already tense duel.

"Loras."

Sweat beaded on Ser Garlan's brow, his grip on his sword dampening. His rapid breaths and palpable anxiety betrayed his state of mind.

"Die!"

Seeing an opening, Ser Garlan lunged again, aiming for Cago's heart. But the perceived vulnerability was a trap set by the experienced Dothraki warrior.

"Strike!"

Yet again, Ser Garlan's sword met only air. In a swift move, Khal Cago tackled the knight, knocking him off balance. The heavy armor of the Riverlands knight couldn't save him from the ground.

"Brother, watch out!"

Loras' plea only heightened Ser Garlan's desperation.

"Back off!"

With great effort, Ser Garlan pushed himself up, sword in hand, ready to defend himself and his family.

"It's alright, Loras. Trust me."

Exhausted, Ser Garlan tried to reassure his younger brother, but the surrounding Dothraki, their arakhs raised, continued their jeers.

"Lajat!" Khal Cago roared in Dothraki, opening his arms wide, inviting an attack.

"Ah!"

Enraged by Cago's audacity, Ser Garlan charged once more. But in his haste, he fell into another of Cago's traps.

"No!"

Before he could react, Cago's powerful grip held his wrist, rendering him powerless. A punch sent the knight reeling, and in a brutal move, Cago gouged out both of Ser Garlan's eyes.

The blinding pain was unbearable. Ser Garlan's scream echoed across the battlefield.

"Ah!"

Khal Cago, triumphant, picked up the fallen knight's sword, holding it aloft to the cheers of the Dothraki.

"No, no."

Lord Mace Tyrell, witnessing his son's demise, felt a cold dread.

"Stop!"

"Please, spare him!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears. The Dothraki's code demanded a victor and a vanquished. With Garlan defeated, Cago approached, his intention clear.

And so, under the sun's unforgiving gaze, Khal Cago thrust the sword through the gap in Ser Garlan's armor, ending his life.

The cheers of the Dothraki grew even louder. In their world, duels ended only in death.

On the walls of Highgarden, the crippled heir, Willas Tyrell, watched in horror as his family met a brutal end. He, captured by the Dornish, ironically became the luckiest of the Tyrells.

The next day, as the dust settled, a dragon appeared on the horizon. Viserys, riding Balerion, arrived from Dragonstone.

Chapter 538: Chapter 538 - Victory Celebration

Viserys Targaryen rode in on his black dragon, making his appearance in Sunspear.

Since the onset of the new year, the Targaryen forces had seen significant victories. In just half a month, they'd won two major battles. The 'Battle of the Lame' at Sunspear was even larger than the 'Battle of the Bronze Gates' in the Stormlands. This was due to the Riverlands having a larger army, far surpassing the Dornish forces.

Reports indicated that the Riverlands had an army of over 30,000 before the White Walkers' invasion. Their numbers swelled to between 80,000 and 100,000 once the war began. But this well-equipped Riverland army met its match in Sunspear. They were ambushed and slaughtered by the Dothraki, suffering heavy losses.

The Lord of Highgarden, Mace Tyrell, and his young son Loras were beheaded. Willas Tyrell, the heir to House Tyrell, was captured alive, while Garlan 'the Gallant' Tyrell died fighting. His body was cremated with honor by the Dothraki.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

As Viserys entered the great hall of Sunspear, Dornish nobles led by Anders Yronwood quickly stood up to greet him.

This young king demanded respect. Viserys, despite his youth, was known for his decisive actions. His face might be that of a handsome youth, but his eyes held a killer's glint. His demeanor reflected his past actions.

"Khal!"

"Dragonrider Khal!"

"Blood of my blood!"

The Dothraki chieftains filled the other side of the hall, with Khal Drogo at the forefront, followed by powerful Kos. They all looked fierce and extended all the way to the end of the hall.

Though dressed in their flamboyant animal hides and bronze belts, with traces of blood from yesterday's battle still on them, they all stood to greet Viserys in reverence.

Seeing these unruly barbarians being so obedient to Viserys left the Dornish lords in awe. The Dornish always felt somewhat apart from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, often derogatorily referred to as 'savages'. But after dealing with the Dothraki, they felt quite 'civilized' in comparison.

After their victory against the vastly larger Riverlands army, which felt as easy as having breakfast, the Riverlands forces were decimated. If not for Anders Yronwood's plea, all the captured Riverlands soldiers would have been massacred by the Dothraki, who spared only boys below the height of a cartwheel, fearing future vengeance.

Young Loras died for this very reason. He might have escaped had he not been slightly taller than his peers.

The Dornish initially thought the Dothraki were mere mercenaries hired by Viserys Targaryen. They were surprised to see the Dothraki show him such deference.

Viserys simply nodded, walking past them to sit at the main seat of Sunspear's hall. He then gestured, "Sit."

Both Dornish nobles and Dothraki leaders took their seats.

"Your Grace, we are grateful for the timely aid of your forces," Anders Yronwood, commander of the Dornish army, began with slight embarrassment.

One Dothraki leader remarked, "Your people seem not so skilled in battle."

Viserys, understanding the Dothraki tongue, silenced the laughing Dothraki with a glance. He then addressed Yronwood.

"The Targaryens and Dorne have always shared a close bond. My queen hails from Dorne, and my daughter, Daenerys, bears Dornish blood."

"We have always been friends."

Lifting his goblet, Viserys continued, "To the friendship between Dorne and House Targaryen."

The Dornish lords echoed, "To your Grace, may your reign be long and prosperous." The Dothraki had varied toasts, ranging from praising the great Khal to the dragons.

After the ceremonial drinks, it was time for official matters.

Chapter 539: "Bend the Knee"

Amidst the battle, the Dornish army suffered heavy losses due to the betrayal of Titus Peake, Lord of Starfall City, who had the city gates opened. This loss demanded accountability.

With Lord Titus Peake now dead, having been thrown from the walls of his city while attempting to rescue his wife, blame naturally shifted elsewhere.

The Peake brothers—Leswell, Toman, and Pycelle, all representatives of the Targaryen army and members of the Golden Company—became the focus of the Dornish's ire. Under the pretense of Viserys's disdain for the Lannisters, they deceitfully confined Lady Margaery Lannister, the wife of Lord Peake, leading to nightly revelries. This deceit provoked Lord Peake into rebellion.

The Dornish sought retribution against the Peake brothers. However, their association with the Targaryens rendered them somewhat untouchable without explicit permission from House Targaryen.

As luck would have it, Viserys arrived at Starfall City. The Dornish army sought an audience with the king, urging him to enact justice against the Peake brothers, whom they saw as the instigators of the conflict.

Viserys, upon learning of the circumstances, did not show leniency. While he understood that not all in his army could be perfect, the act of abducting a lady of nobility under his name was inexcusable. After testimonies from various witnesses, including Lady Margaery and servants of Starfall City, he sentenced the Peake brothers to death by hanging.

With the Dornish protest settled, attention turned to the fate of House Tyrell. Upon his arrival, Viserys learned of the capture of Willas Tyrell, the execution of Lord Mace Tyrell and his youngest son, Loras, and the death of Garlan Tyrell, the second son, in battle.

Viserys's impression of Lord Mace was of a mediocre duke, but he felt a pang of sorrow for the potential of the 'Knight of Flowers', Loras, who was no more.

The only surviving heir of House Tyrell, Willas, was then presented. Known as "Crippled" Willas after an injury in a duel with Oberyn Martell, he bore no ill will towards Oberyn, attributing his injury to his lack of skill.

"Your Grace," greeted Willas, looking weary yet defiant, having witnessed the death of his family members a day prior.

After a brief exchange, Willas conveyed a message from Oberyn, urging the Tyrells to submit to the Iron Throne. Despite personal agreement with Viserys's rule, Willas emphasized that House Tyrell couldn't act solely based on his views.

Finally, Viserys asked about Willas's decision. Willas solemnly responded, "I'm willing to persuade my grandmother to bend the knee, surrendering Highgarden and all of House Tyrell's wealth in exchange for our family's continuation."

Chapter 540: Chapter 540 - The Conquest of Highgarden

Willas Tyrell knelt before Viserys Targaryen, swearing eternal loyalty to House Targaryen. He offered Highgarden and all the wealth of the Tyrells in exchange for the survival of his house.

Viserys, showing mercy, accepted Willas's loyalty, sparing the Tyrells from utter annihilation.

The next day, the battered armies of Dorne rested temporarily at Sunspear. After a two-day respite, the Dothraki horde marched forth, their sights set on Highgarden.

Highgarden, a beautiful castle situated by the Mander river, was built entirely of white marble, emanating an aura of artistry. Manicured mazes of plants, blossoming flowers, courtyards, pools, and artificial waterfalls painted a picturesque landscape. Perched atop a hill, the castle overlooked the vast Reach plains. The crystal-clear waters of the Mander flowed serenely below, and from the tower's balcony, one could gaze upon the beautiful estates and fields in the distance.

However, the arrival of the Dothraki shattered this poetic ambiance. The thunder of charging hooves and the sight of wild plains riders approached, trampling the fields and young crops beneath.

Yet before the Dothraki could lay waste to this beautiful garden castle, it had already lost its charm. A recent siege by Dornish forces had scarred its elegance. Now, Highgarden resembled a castle of thorns, bearing the marks of war, yet to be repaired.

Inside a towering white tower, an elderly woman with silver hair, wrapped in a veil, leaned against a marble railing. She gazed at the vast expanse of horse riders. War had robbed her of her favorite golden flower sea view and claimed her son and two grandsons.

The 'Thorned Queen', Lady Olenna Tyrell, might be known for her sharp wit, but she was not a lover of wars. She preferred Tyrell methods of diplomacy.

Suddenly, a massive black dragon appeared, breaking through the clouds with a deep roar. Its crimson eyes stared down at the white castle. Soldiers within Highgarden, paralyzed with fear, dared not resist.

Lady Olenna's gaze locked onto the dragon, horror evident in her eyes. Her frail fingers clutched the marble railing, her nails whitening from the grip. The sight of a dragon, a creature of myths, was overwhelming even for someone of her age and experience.

Following this, the veiled elderly lady retreated to her chambers, shutting her ornate golden doors.

Shortly after, the heavy gates of Highgarden opened. Soldiers loyal to the Tyrells, faces marked with uncertainty, marched out in two rows. They laid down their arms and knelt on either side of the road.

After merely circling Highgarden once, the dragon Balerion had intimidated the fortress into submission. Even Lady Olenna, the indomitable matriarch, had not needed her grandson Willas to persuade her to surrender.

Riding a white horse, Viserys moved with his army, Willas Tyrell by his side. Willas's gaze towards Highgarden was complex.

"I've long heard of the 'Thorned Queen'," Viserys remarked, holding his reins. "It appears Lady Olenna truly is a wise woman."

Willas's expression was a mixture of guilt and sorrow. "My grandmother is indeed wise, Your Grace. You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, carrying the will of the gods and the people. She would not dare halt your progress. Otherwise, Highgarden and the Tyrells would be reduced to ashes, lost to history."

Despite the defeat at Sunspear and the heavy losses, the Tyrells, with their deep roots, still had the strength to resist. Yet, Lady Olenna, the 'Thorned Queen', chose surrender over a futile stand.

The Dothraki took control of Highgarden, and the vast gold reserves of the Tyrells left many awestruck. Viserys, however, distanced himself from such vulgar tasks.

Viserys walked through Highgarden's vibrant gardens, passing magnificent courtyards, shimmering pools, and artistic sculptures. The artistic heart of the Seven Kingdoms, Highgarden was adorned with carvings, fountains, marble columns, grapes, and roses.

Ascending the spiral tower, he entered a lavish chamber. Inside awaited the veiled silver-haired old lady, Lady Olenna, accompanied by a brunette girl.

"Combat was never our forte, Your Grace," she remarked.

Chapter 541: Tearing Up the Surrender Letter

Lady Olenna began, looking up, "Did our soldiers valiantly resist on the battlefield?"

"Garlan, Mace..."

There was a brief silence after which Viserys responded, "It was as expected. Ser Garlan perished in battle."

She remarked with a hint of sarcasm, "Of course. After all, we are the proud Golden Roses."

On hearing this, Lady Olenna's demeanor darkened. "Garlan was always the most single-minded of the Tyrells. And Mace… he's been timid since childhood. But we chose to fight. The fates of Mace, Garlan, and Loras might have been preordained."

She mournfully listed the names of her kin, her voice hoarse. "We paid a heavy price."

Lady Olenna, the 'Queen of Thorns', looked intently at Viserys, "We fought and lost, Your Grace. We paid the due price. You possess an army that could conquer the seven kingdoms. The Iron Throne is rightfully yours. Yet, conquering and ruling are not the same."

She attempted to persuade Viserys, arguing for the old way of governance, where noble houses ruled their domains. The Iron Throne was his; he could command the nobles, wage wars, levy taxes, marry a queen of high birth, or indulge in luxuries just like 'Mad King' Aerys. But why strip the nobility of their power?

Viserys, scanning the room adorned in classic décor, questioned her beliefs. "Why should nobles be nobles? Because of their bloodline? Are they smarter or more capable?"

He proceeded to argue that, historically, many nobles were known to be incompetent. He wondered if only the Targaryens, with their dragon blood, and the Starks, with their mysterious heritage, had true noble blood.

She tried to respond, but Viserys continued, "Why should the nobility exist at all?"

The Queen of Thorns was momentarily silenced. Viserys persisted, "What makes their blood noble? Do they have any exceptional attributes?"

Lady Olenna, reflecting on their losses, inquired about the future of House Tyrell.

Viserys stated, "Leave all your wealth, abandon Highgarden. It was Varys' promise during his surrender."

She responded, "Highgarden is our home. Where else would we go?"

"Starfall," Viserys proposed, mentioning the vacant Dorne stronghold.

Lady Olenna, realizing the implications, understood the political landscape was changing. The Dothraki, who had taken Highgarden without a fight, prepared to march to Oldtown, their next target. No one could stand in their way.

King Viserys, while being lenient with the Tyrells, displayed his uncompromising side. He spent a brief time in Highgarden, tearing up three surrender letters from House Hightower of Oldtown. He resolved to end the most influential and wealthy house in the Reach.

Chapter 542: Margaery Tyrell

Throughout the annals of human history, the Hightower House has projected an image of modesty—a House that preferred trade over war.

However, few realize that the Hightowers have been a concealed 'overlord' of the Westeros continent.

While the Targaryens once openly ruled the Seven Kingdoms from the Iron Throne, the Hightowers operated in the throne's shadows.

They financed the construction of the Citadel, the very heart of Oldtown, becoming its secret 'patrons.' The Citadel, with its vast collection of books from all corners of the world, held the fates of noble families of the Seven Kingdoms.

Those maesters, ever loyal, advising nobles, healing the sick, conveying messages, and always curious, all hail from the Citadel.

And the Faith of the Seven, which over seventy percent of Westeros believes in, has its headquarters, the Starry Sept, in Oldtown. Behind this powerful religious entity, too, lurks the shadow of House Hightower.

Knowledge and faith—two of the world's most formidable weapons—are held by the Hightowers.

Some claim they've been the puppeteers of Westeros' history—having a hand in events from the pre-unification wars, the rise and fall of Houses, to the extinction of dragons and the dethroning of the Targaryens. However, there's no concrete evidence to support this.

Viserys doesn't need to know the exact role the Hightowers played in these events. Perhaps he is unaware, or perhaps he knows. After all, having absorbed the power of the old gods, he became a new Greenseer. He ought to know something.

But he will not allow the pinnacle of human knowledge and a religion followed by over seventy percent of the population to remain in the grasp of one House.

And since the Hightowers have these assets, a tragic fate awaits them.

"Prepare to depart!"

The roar of the Dothraki horde echoed. Below the castle, they assembled, taking stock of their supplies and numbers, ready to march.

Viserys now stood where the 'Queen of Thorns,' Lady Olenna Redwyne, once stood.

The young silver-haired man wore a finely tailored black velvet robe, a pristine white cloak draped over his shoulders, and black leather gloves.

A gentle breeze tousled his silver-gold hair as he looked down upon the assembling army, his gaze distant.

He had no intention of personally participating in this war.

Word had spread that the King would remain in Highgarden to recuperate and remotely oversee the war, patiently awaiting news of its outcome.

Highgarden, with its exquisite gardens, was indeed a perfect place for relaxation. Nestled atop gentle hills, with the Mander flowing lazily by, its gardens always in bloom, thanks to the warm climate and fertile soil.

The Tyrells, originally stewards to the Gardener kings of the Reach, were awarded Highgarden and the dominion of the Reach by Aegon after the last Gardener king and his heirs perished in dragonfire.

Now, once again, the Tyrells' dominion, granted by Aegon, has been reclaimed by Viserys—just as the Tullys lost their lordship the previous year.

However, the Tyrells face an even bleaker future. Their three centuries of rule and amassed wealth seemed to evaporate overnight—like a fleeting dream.

The Tyrells' ancestor, Harlan Tyrell, once pledged eternal loyalty to Aegon. Yet, when Viserys reclaimed Westeros, the Tyrells broke their vow and opposed him. So, Viserys' reclamation of Highgarden was only just.

While King Viserys remained in the scenic Highgarden for rest and recuperation, he sent his dragon, Balerion the Black Dread, to aid the Dothraki in their assault on Oldtown.

The former rulers of Highgarden, the Tyrells, had already evacuated, moving, as per the King's orders, to Starspear.

But before their departure, Lady Olenna casually mentioned her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell. A natural beauty with soft brown curls and innocent, doe-like brown eyes. Intelligent, witty, and already known as the 'Rose of Highgarden' among the Reach nobility.

Many noble families from the Seven Kingdoms have sought her hand in marriage for their heirs, only to be declined by Lady Olenna. For young Margaery has a dream.

Viserys had met her during his first visit to Highgarden and had been left with an impression.

Lady Olenna often brought Margaery with her during their meetings, hinting at the girl's dream of becoming a queen.

However, the age difference between Viserys and Margaery was substantial, making a match unlikely.

Despite this, Lady Olenna requested that Margaery be allowed to serve as a handmaiden to the Dornish queen in the Red Keep, much like the Stark girl.

Lady Olenna's motive was clear: to position Margaery in the political epicenter of the Seven Kingdoms, the capital, in hopes she would find a suitable match.

Yet, Viserys declined her proposal. His queen did not need additional handmaidens.

He understood Lady Olenna's political maneuverings. While the Tyrells might not excel in warfare, their machinations in court were unmatched.

With hope for her House's resurgence, she placed her faith in Margaery.

Chapter 543: The Siege Begins

The roar of the black dragon echoed across the realm, its wings whisking it into the distance.

Viserys, standing by a white marble balustrade, watched as the Dothraki horde and Balerion departed. His pale violet eyes, tranquil like still water, seemed to foresee some of the impending events.

A gentle breeze brushed against the young man, causing his silver-golden hair to flutter lightly. He then opened his clenched hand, letting the torn letter in his palm be carried away by the wind.

The target of this Dothraki expedition: Oldtown.

Now, this largest and most ancient city of Westeros was engulfed in dread. News of the Battle of Starfall, where countless Riverlands soldiers were slaughtered by the Dothraki, had spread via ravens and merchants. The land was drenched in the blood of the Riverlands' soldiers, and the stench of death was so overpowering that even miles away, one couldn't help but be repulsed. Vultures lingered long after the battle, and the region became desolate.

The terrifying horse riders of the Dothraki were now marching towards Oldtown, making its inhabitants feel as if the end of the world was nigh.

Strategically located at the southwestern tip of the Riverlands, where the Honeywine River flows into the Whispering Sound and the Sunset Sea, Oldtown is also the southernmost point of the Roseroad, connecting Highgarden and King's Landing.

It's the most important port in Westeros, surpassing even King's Landing in significance. Its bustling docks have always been a melting pot of cultures, with ships from all over Westeros, the Summer Islands, Free Cities, Pentos, and Andalos.

However, the cloud of war now loomed over this grand city, affecting its flourishing trade. The once lively Sailor's Sept, the Sept of the Seven, the docks, and even temples of foreign gods had grown noticeably quieter.

Merchants and affluent citizens fled Oldtown, while the less fortunate either couldn't afford to leave or chose to stay, hoping to find opportunity amidst chaos.

Amidst the general panic, Lord Leyton Hightower, known as the "Voice of Oldtown", "Lord of the Port", "Count of the High Tower", "Guardian of the Citadel", and "Lighthouse of the South", was even more anxious.

The Hightowers had always seen themselves as the beacon of progress. Their sigil—a gray tower crowned with a bright beacon against a smoky background—stood for "Lighting the Way".

Yet, due to Viserys' 'Sword of Change', the usually neutral Hightowers were dragged into the war, even though they had wanted to surrender.

However, their attempts to surrender went unanswered.

Desperate, Lord Leyton even invited the King to visit the Starry Sept in Oldtown, hoping to replicate the crowning of Aegon. But still, no reply came, just news of the approaching Dothraki and the recuperating Dornish army.

Resigned to their fate, the Hightowers began preparing for a last stand against the Targaryen forces.

In the year 294 AC, the hastily assembled Hightower army clashed with the Dothraki near Honeyholt. Led by Leyton's eldest son and heir, Ser Baelor Hightower, and assisted by the Maester of War from the Citadel, they formed a formidable formation.

However, they were swiftly defeated.

When Balerion, the 'Black Dread', descended from the clouds, the faces of Ser Baelor and the Maester were filled with despair. The dragon's fire decimated their ranks, shattering their spirit. Coupled with the charge of the Dothraki riders, the Hightower forces were quickly routed, with Ser Baelor and the Maester perishing in dragonfire.

The Honeywine River, once said to flow with wine and honey, now ran red with the blood of Hightower soldiers.

Before the news of the defeat could reach Oldtown, the corpses of their soldiers arrived, carried by the current of the Honeywine River. Panic ensued, with citizens and nobles alike clamoring to leave.

However, Lord Leyton, upon hearing the tragic news and seeing the blood-red Honeywine, refused to abandon his city. Along with his eccentric daughter, Malora Hightower, known as "The Mad Maid", he ascended the High Tower, seeking ancient spells to fend off the Dothraki and kill Viserys and his dragon.

But before they could find a solution, the Dothraki, having defeated the Hightower forces at Honeyholt, were yet to reach Oldtown.

The Dornish army had already arrived, laying siege to the city.

Chapter 544: Assault on Oldtown

"Archers!" "Archers, be swift!" "Form ranks here!"

As Dorne's vast army approached, Oldtown's gates were shut tight. The city's defenders hurriedly climbed the walls, preparing to fend off the impending Dornish assault.

Oldtown's walls, not particularly tall or formidable, had been breached multiple times in history—by Dorne's King Samwell Dayne, Iron King Corlys Hoare, and River King Garth Gardener I. After Garth Gardener I's conquest, he had sold three-quarters of the town's populace into slavery, but he never managed to conquer the Hightowers' towering keep.

A distant horn blew from the Dornish ranks, breaking the silence of the battlefield.

The disciplined formation of Dornish soldiers advanced, their presence imposing and suffocating. The soldiers wore their signature desert-yellow uniforms with metallic scale-stitched leather armor, and helmets wrapped in turbans.

Their cavalry rode tall desert horses, wielding curved swords and round shields, with short spears strapped to their backs. Dornish infantrymen carried long spears and shields, while their archers bore quivers and double-curved longbows, with the iconic curved sword at their waists.

Various banners of Dornish nobility fluttered in the wind, with the most prominent being the Martell's sun-pierced spear, followed closely by the Yronwood's. Other notable banners included House Dayne of Starfall, House Toland with its dragon-eating tail, House Uller of Hellholt, and even House Fowler of Skyreach, known for their differences with the Yronwoods.

"To arms!" "Prepare to assault!"

Under the command of Lord Anders Yronwood, the assault on Oldtown commenced.

The Dornish soldiers unsheathed their curved blades and, raising their shields, charged.

"Attack!"

From the rear, newly crafted war machines roared, launching flaming boulders skyward. Some of these fiery projectiles struck the city walls with a deafening impact, while others landed on the battlements, causing casualties among the Hightower defenders.

One of the boulders flew over the city walls, crashing into buildings beyond.

The civilian homes, unlike the city walls, were not fortified and were quickly demolished by the trebuchet's projectiles. Fortunately, most of the residents had fled Oldtown before the onset of the battle. The boulders, drenched in oil, ignited the ruins, sending flames and smoke spiraling upwards.

Oldtown, known for its scenic beauty with its streams, vast rivers, and canals accompanied by cobblestone streets, offered a refreshing urban landscape. Though densely populated, it lacked the political intensity of King's Landing.

However, the advent of war disrupted its tranquility. Flames consumed the city's ruins.

"Extinguish the fires!" "Quickly! Extinguish them!"

Sir Gunthor Hightower, the third son of Lord Leyton Hightower, was at the base of the walls, directing his men to put out the growing fires.

On the walls, his elder brother, known as 'Greyiron' Garth Hightower, led the defense. Their eldest brother, 'Flatulent' Baelor Hightower, had already perished in the Battle of Honeywine, leaving the younger siblings with the responsibility.

"Archers!" "Ready!" "Release!"

Under the command of Garth Hightower, the city's defenders unleashed a volley of arrows. The Dornish, however, were prepared.

"Raise shields!" "Raise them!"

Sir Gullian Coghall, the eldest son from Sandstone, shouted commands as arrows rained down. Dornish soldiers promptly raised their shields, deflecting the barrage. Yet, some arrows found their marks, causing casualties.

The Dornish troops soon reached the base of Oldtown's walls.

"Hurry!" "Set up the ladders!"

A knight from House Uller, overseeing the scaling of the walls, was suddenly struck by an arrow and fell from his horse.

Despite Oldtown's tenacious resistance, the Dornish managed to set up their ladders.

"Scale the walls!" "Scale them!"

The promise of a thousand gold dragons by Lord Anders Yronwood to the first man atop the walls fueled the Dornish soldiers' fervor.

"Charge!"

Oldtown's defenders, led by Garth Hightower, valiantly repelled the climbers, dropping rocks and pouring boiling oil. Many Dornish soldiers met their end midway up the ladders, but their relentless assault eventually paid off.

"Stand your ground!" "Fight to the last!"

Garth Hightower, now visibly distressed, tried to rally his men, but the defense was crumbling. More Dornish soldiers surged over the walls.

Oldtown's gates were flung open.

Chapter 545: The Fall of Oldtown

The opening of the gates signified the vulnerability of Oldtown.

Yet, the Oldtown defenders at the gates resisted fiercely, repelling the Dornish armies several times.

But eventually, their defenses were broken. Hordes of Dornish soldiers flooded into the city, engaging in fierce skirmishes in the alleys. Each cobblestone path bore witness to the intense combat.

Oldtown, known for its serene beauty and tranquil ambiance, with its wide rivers and meandering streams, was once reminiscent of a picturesque southern riverside village. But now, the scars of war marred its charm.

"Attack!"

In a narrow lane, several Dornish soldiers wearing white turbans faced armored men from House Hightower.

Both sides, eyes bloodshot with fury, lunged at each other.

Clang, clang—

The clash of weapons erupted, with sparks flying. In the confined alley, the swords of the knights were restricted, but the Dornish scimitars seemed more agile.

Thud—

A Dornish soldier's scimitar struck the armor of a Hightower knight, leaving just a scratch. The Dornishman hesitated for a moment, only to be pierced by a longsword.

Spurt—

On the other hand, a Hightower soldier's throat was sliced open by a scimitar, blood gushing out as he fell to the ground.

"Damn savages!"

A blood-stained Hightower knight, eyes slightly reddened, glared at the enemy with profound hatred.

Dorne and the Riverlands have been arch-enemies for millennia, their enmity only briefly pausing when the Seven Kingdoms united and Dorne bowed to the Iron Throne.

Both sides roared and clashed again, swords meeting in fierce combat. Ultimately, blood was spilled, and they tumbled together into an Oldtown river.

The battle began at dawn and continued till dusk. The Dornish army gained ground, while the Hightower forces were pushed back.

Both armies, now exhausted, knew retreat would mean total defeat.

But then, as the sun set, a distant and majestic dragon's roar echoed. Thunderous rumblings grew nearer.

Boom—

The ground trembled. Both fighting factions turned to see the approaching force.

Against the backdrop of the setting sun, a massive shadow soared in the sky, and on the horizon, countless Dothraki horsemen, like an unstoppable tide, charged toward Oldtown.

The Dothraki, fresh from their victory against the Hightower forces by the Honeywine river, approached with an air of triumph, their presence overwhelming any remaining Hightower resistance.

Boom—

The pounding of hooves was deafening.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo~"

Countless Dothraki warriors, under the setting sun, raised their arakhs, which gleamed menacingly. They charged through the gates previously held by the Dornish.

"Move! Make way!"

The Dornish leaders, upon seeing the fearsome Dothraki, ordered their men to clear a path. The Dothraki, blindfolding their horses for the charge, recognized no allies.

Dozens of Dornish soldiers, unable to move in time, were trampled.

"Move! Make way for the cavalry!"

The Dothraki onslaught was unstoppable. Their charge altered the tide of battle in an instant.

The Hightower soldiers, unaccustomed to the Dothraki's brutal warfare, were overwhelmed. Their men were either cut down by arakhs or trampled under charging horses.

In the sky, the dragon soared, casting a vast shadow below, and let out a deafening roar.

Some Hightower soldiers, still resisting, gazed at the dragon perched on the city walls and drew their bows. A rain of arrows followed, but they merely bounced off the dragon's thick scales.

Balerion, eyes burning red with fury, seemed irritated by the 'harassment' from the soldiers below. Opening its massive maw, it unleashed a torrent of dragonfire.

Screams echoed as the defiant Hightower soldiers were reduced to ashes. The remaining, panic-stricken, dropped their weapons and fled.

Balerion then turned its attention to a prominent black structure in Oldtown and flew towards the Starry Sept.

Meanwhile, the Dothraki, having broken through the city's defenses, swiftly crushed the last hopes of House Hightower. Their soldiers were mercilessly trampled under horse hooves.

"Ohharat!"

A topless Dothraki bloodrider unsheathed his arakh, its blade pointing towards the Citadel.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo~"

A chorus of howls erupted from the Dothraki ranks. Waving their arakhs, they surged towards the Citadel.

Chapter 546: The Fall of the Sept

The Sky's Roar

A dragon's shadow circled the skies, its roar echoing far and wide.

For reasons unknown, Balerion had forsaken the common soldiers of House Hightower, instead setting its gaze upon the black structure standing tall in Oldtown.

The Starry Sept was the grandest in the city. For millennia before the Conquest, it had been the headquarters of the Faith of the Seven, the seat of the High Septon.

Three centuries ago, when Aegon I first landed at King's Landing, the then High Septon secluded himself within the Starry Sept, praying for seven days and nights, sustained only by bread and water. Emerging, he decreed the Faith would not oppose Aegon and his sisters.

He prophesied that should Oldtown ever rise against the Targaryen dragonlords, dragonfire would consume the marketplace, the Citadel, the mighty towers, and the Starry Sept itself.

House Hightower heeded his words, opening their gates to Aegon, earning peace in return.

Yet, three centuries have passed. Leyton Hightower, the current Lord of the Hightower, dismissed the old prophecy, choosing to oppose Viserys.

As dusk painted the sky, Balerion's form loomed ominously over Oldtown, a harbinger of doom.

With a thunderous roar, the dragon dived, spewing fire upon the Sept's dome, slicing through it as effortlessly as a knife through butter.

The Black Dread assaulted the Sept. Its frail dome shattered instantaneously, collapsing amidst a cloud of dust.

"Panic! Run!"

Cries filled the air as septons and septas scattered. Those once devoted to silent contemplation now screamed in terror.

The dragon landed upon the once-majestic structure. Under the intense heat of its flames, the Sept wailed, collapsing piece by piece, crushing countless clergy.

The relentless inferno melted the Sept's black marble, shattered its stained glass, and consumed many who couldn't escape in time, their agonized screams chilling the air.

From a tower of the Sept, some clergy, unable to endure the torment, leapt ablaze, aiming for the river below. Yet, misjudging their leap, they crashed brutally onto the riverbank.

As the tower leaned and crumbled into the adjacent river, it unleashed great waves, capsizing many vessels trying to flee.

Night began its descent, yet the city's skies glowed fiery red.

The dragon circled the Starry Sept, continuously belching fire, reducing the magnificent structure to ruins.

Those who escaped watched in horror as their faith crumbled, weeping and praying for the Seven's vengeance upon their foe.

Yet, all they witnessed was the melting statues of their gods. Soon after, with a resounding boom, the Starry Sept was wholly consumed by dragonfire, its echoing devastation reaching far.

The Sept's fall shattered the faith of many clergy. Some bled from fervent prayer, others leapt into the river in despair, and a few discarded their robes, sneaking away.

Amidst the apocalypse, humanity's true colors shone.

"Viserys has gone mad!"

"Viserys has gone mad!"

"What does this tyrant want?"

The Citadel, located by the Honeywine River and composed of numerous isles connected by stone bridges, was the largest complex in Oldtown. Now, it was in utter chaos. Maesters and acolytes scattered like headless flies, with countless refugees flooding in.

The Citadel's archmaester, Theobald, was both shocked and enraged, pacing anxiously. He hadn't anticipated such dire circumstances. This meant one thing: Viserys was a true "Destroyer of Order."

"This tyrant... he's lost his mind."

Each year saw a new archmaester for the Citadel. This year, it was Theobald's turn. Little did he anticipate inheriting such a crisis.

Ever since House Hightower decided to intervene in the civil war of the Seven Kingdoms, the Citadel had been preparing for battle. They had predicted the outcomes, calculating all possibilities. They believed a Targaryen victory was most likely, but never imagined the Citadel itself would be threatened.

War clouds had gathered over Oldtown not long ago, and Archmaester Theobald had symbolically sent a few maesters away. Yet, none foresaw the rapid fall of Oldtown. The war began in the morning and by dusk, the city had fallen. And with the Dothraki and dragon's arrival, the war's trajectory was utterly terrifying.

Chapter 547: The Tower of the Old Town

"At the heart of it, Viserys seeks to dismantle the old order, aiming to forge a singular, unified realm."

"No more talk of the Seven Kingdoms, no more civil strife, no trueborn nobles, only one king."

Inside the Citadel's council chamber, a silver-haired maester spoke with deep concern.

"Thus, even after amassing a force capable of toppling the Seven Kingdoms, he chose to bide his time in King's Landing for half a year."

"The Targaryen Dragon King isn't one for mercy to his foes, but aims for a strike so swift, his adversaries will vanish in the war, with no room for second thoughts."

Another maester within the chamber responded.

Following the First Conquest, Viserys remained discreet in King's Landing for six moons.

The scholars and maesters of the Citadel deduced that the Targaryen forces could have proceeded with their conquest, claiming Stormlands, Riverlands, Westerlands, and the Vale.

Yet Viserys refrained, causing some scholars to speculate if he was truly content with matrimony and offspring in King's Landing.

Now, it seems, that was a ruse. Viserys was amassing strength, veiling his ambitions.

Like a punch thrown, to exert maximum force, one must first draw back the fist.

He sought a decisive victory, not a drawn-out conflict, revealing no intentions against the Faith or the Citadel.

Any premature move would have garnered immense resistance, perhaps even forcing him to abandon his aims.

A worldly pushback against him.

"This is the Dragon King's intent."

"To obliterate the old order of the world, mercilessly extinguishing anything that stands before him."

The Faith and the Citadel stand in direct opposition to his efforts to dismantle the old ways, a maester voiced in despair.

"He wishes to destroy the Citadel?"

"To burn every tome, bury every scholar, all in his quest for a new world?"

"His absence in Oldtown, using the Dothraki to siege and decimate the Starry Sept, was the first strike against the Faith."

"He can now blame the savages, washing his hands clean."

Inside the council chamber, the maesters and scholars chattered in despair, seeming to discern Viserys's intent.

Suddenly, a tumultuous noise arose from outside.

"Roar!"

Dothraki riders began flooding into the Citadel.

At the heart of Oldtown stood the towering Hightower.

Its pinnacle burned with an ever-glowing flame, casting away the darkness as the sun set, standing as the last beacon of hope for the distressed people and soldiers of Oldtown.

Atop the Hightower, the elderly lord of Oldtown, Lord Leyton Hightower, resided in a realm unreachable by common men.

The Voice of Oldtown, the Master of the Port, the Lord of the Hightower, the protector of the Citadel, the Beacon of the South, Lord Leyton had many titles that weighed heavy upon him.

The Targaryen army pointed directly at Oldtown. Despite Lord Leyton's three attempts at parley, there was no reply. In anger, he ordered his eldest son to repel the invaders, only to receive news of the blood-red Honeywine and the demise of his son, Baelor Hightower.

From the Hightower family to the commoners, all of Oldtown was in panic.

Lord Leyton's tenth child, and youngest son, Ser Humfrey Hightower, suggested the family abandon Oldtown and relocate to Lys, seeking refuge with his sister Lynesse Hightower.

Lynesse, Lord Leyton's eighth child and youngest daughter, was stunning with golden locks and milky skin. Initially wed to Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, she abandoned him during the exodus from the North, fleeing to Lys and never returning.

In Lys, she indulged in its luxuries and soon became the favored paramour of a Lyseni magister named Triarch Ormollen, dishonoring her husband Ser Jorah.

Now, with Lynesse being a favored concubine of the Lyseni magister, Ser Humfrey believed the magister would offer refuge to the Hightower family.

However, Lord Leyton severely rebuked his son's proposal, seemingly deeply disappointed in Lynesse.

He once opposed her marriage to Jorah, not wishing her to be wed so far north. Yet, Lynesse threatened her father and married Ser Jorah out of willfulness. Later, she left Jorah when he needed her most, becoming another's mistress in Lys.

Lord Leyton believed such actions tarnished the Hightower honor.

He told his remaining children and his fourth wife that they were free to leave if they wished, but he would stand or fall with the Hightower.

Lord Leyton and his daughter Malora, known as the 'Mad Maid' for her erratic behavior, then ascended to the tower's pinnacle to study arcane texts, seeking ways to defeat the Targaryen forces. They hadn't descended since.

Looking below at the raging fires of Oldtown, Malora exclaimed with childlike enthusiasm, "How beautiful! Father, are these the fireworks you've prepared for me?"

Lord Leyton, portly and white-haired, with rough skin spotted with age, moved with his chest jiggling, covered in hair. Draping a cloak over his shoulders without fastening it, he revealed his bare chest.

Drawing the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Hightower, Vigilance, he gazed down and declared, "Fear not, the Hightower has never fallen, and it won't today."

Yet at that moment, the very dragon that laid waste to the Starry Sept set its sights upon them.

The dragon's roar echoed, shaking the heavens, as Balerion flew menacingly towards the Hightower.

Chapter 548: Chapter 548 – The Tax Collector

Beneath the veil of night, amidst a sky illuminated by fire, a dragon soared, encircling the great Hightower, unleashing its flames upon it.

The Hightower, nearly 800 feet tall, pierced the heavens. Even before this monument, the dragon seemed somewhat diminutive.

Yet, as Lord Leyton Hightower had once boasted, the tower stood unyielding. The dragon's fire might not crumble its bricks, but those inside were not spared. They would be roasted alive, a torment arguably worse than being burned outright.

The war had come to its conclusion.

Lord Leyton Hightower and his eldest daughter, the 'Mad Maid' Malora Hightower, met their end atop the Hightower. When their charred remains were later found, they were still tightly embraced.

As for the other Hightower kin, some escaped by sea to the Shield Islands, while others fled to distant continents.

On the battlefield, 'Grey Iron' Garth Hightower, who commanded the troops, fell to the spears of the Dornish, fighting valiantly till his last breath.

With their commander gone, the will of the Hightower forces was shattered.

"Flee!" "Run!" "Help!"

Discarding their arms, they scattered. Some sought refuge among the common folk, while others, shedding armor, plunged into the chilling river, hoping to swim their way out of Oldtown.

Oldtown, once Westeros' grandest city, had become a living hell, with the Dornish and Dothraki rampaging freely.

"This is the scar war leaves on humanity. Yet, mankind can't seem to prevent it," a familiar voice murmured.

Viserys Targaryen, who was supposedly recuperating in Highgarden, now stood on a hill outside Oldtown, atop a white steed, gazing upon the city in flames. A few loyal Dothraki bloodriders, in their traditional armor, were by his side, ever-watchful.

Perhaps one day, people might understand one another, exercise restraint, and prevent such conflicts. But not today. For now, unification seems the best way to end the internal strife," Viserys mused aloud.

Willas Tyrell, the new Lord of Highgarden, stood beside him, a complex expression on his face.

"If Highgarden and Oldtown had made the same choices, would they share this fate?" he wondered. After all, Lord Leyton was his grandfather. His mother, Alerie Hightower, was Leyton's second daughter. Amidst his relief, Willas couldn't help but feel sorrow.

"Your Grace speaks true. But these are age-old ailments of Westeros. The notions of family and power are deeply ingrained. People fail to unite and understand one another," said Willas, pulling the reins to calm his restless steed.

Although Viserys had declined Lady Olenna's offer to take Margaery as a consort, he hadn't completely ostracized the Tyrells. Willas Tyrell had expressed a desire to serve in King's Landing, in any capacity.

Recognizing Willas's potential, Viserys appointed him as a tax collector under the Master of Coin, responsible for a particular region.

Viserys had seen through Willas's intentions. Despite the challenges of his position, especially for a man with a disability like Willas, he had accepted wholeheartedly.

Viserys had brought Willas with him when he moved from Highgarden to Oldtown. Once Oldtown was conquered, they would head north to King's Landing.

"Does Your Grace intend to utilize the Dothraki to deal with the Citadel and the Faith?" Willas inquired.

Viserys responded, "If you've lived in fear of being killed by a king from the age of eight, you'd understand the need for caution. The world I envision isn't built by those loyal to the present order."

He continued, "The Citadel, Westeros's pinnacle of knowledge, shouldn't be centralized. Nor should it be distant from the capital. I'll disperse it across the world, from Winterfell to Dorne, from Lannisport to Pentos."

Chapter 549: Return of the Army

As dawn broke the next day, the sun's rays dispersed the gloom of the night.

Yet, smoke still billowed from the old town, occasional skirmishes echoed through the streets, but for the most part, the banners of the Dornish army waved triumphantly.

"No! Please, mercy!"

On the streets, a soldier from House Hightower was brutally dragged out from a residence by the men of Dorne. Clad in tattered armor and weaponless, he had hoped to evade capture by hiding. Fear and desperation painted his face as he fell to his knees, pleading for his life. However, a Dornish soldier, wearing a scarf, mercilessly slit his throat, letting his body slump onto the ground.

Nearby, a soldier of House Yronwood dispatched a gravely wounded foe with a spear.

As daylight grew, the aftermath of war scarred the streets of the old town. Ruined buildings, scattered bricks, countless bodies, and rivers stained with blood painted a grim picture.

The war was over.

Dorne's army had emulated the feats of King Samwell Dayne of Torrentine by capturing the old town. The Dornish, after countless years, had once again taken this land. Many Dornish nobles viewed this victory as a lifelong glory.

Mounted on majestic steeds and clad in armor, they paraded through the streets, taunting their age-old enemies, earning them the resentful glares of the old town's inhabitants.

For the citizens and the soldiers of House Hightower, this night was unforgettable.

The Starry Sept had collapsed, and the legendary Dothraki, whom many had only heard of or considered mythical, invaded the Citadel.

The maesters of the Citadel might have heard of these horse lords, but reading about them was not the same as facing them. Yet, surprisingly, upon their invasion, the Dothraki did not slaughter everyone. Except for a few who resisted, those who surrendered were spared, seemingly following a specific command.

The surviving archmaesters, maesters, and novices were imprisoned within the Citadel, which had been temporarily transformed into a jail. Notably, the books within the Citadel were preserved, not burned.

Days later, news of the end of the war spread like wildfire to Highgarden, accompanied by reports of naval victories.

The conquest saw three land armies from House Targaryen, and at sea, the royal navy, led by Lord Commander Jeffrey Bracken, attacked Gulltown.

The naval forces of the Just Men went out to battle but faced a devastating defeat at Crab Bay. The royal navy, under the experienced leadership of the lord commander, then launched a fierce assault on this major Vale town.

The two sides battled for over a month, and as the primary forces of the Just Men debated their strategy in the Eyrie, Gulltown fell. It was only then that the defenders of the Eyrie decided to unite against the common enemy.

Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone led the armies to recapture Gulltown, with the 'Blackfish' Brynden Tully as his deputy commander. Concerned for the safety of young Lord Robert Arryn and Lysa Tully in the wolf-infested Eyrie, and fearing a power vacuum in his absence, Lord Royce decided to take the mother-son duo with him.

As the deputy commander, the 'Blackfish' wielded significant power and managed thousands of Stormland troops. Angered by the events in the Eyrie, and particularly protective of his niece, he too chose to keep Lysa close.

Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish also marched with the army. Currently, the Vale's forces were marching towards Gulltown.

News from the old town and the Vale reached Highgarden. The king, supposedly recovering in Highgarden, had just returned, but awaited news from the Westerlands.

The Dothraki, having shown restraint in the old town, returned to Highgarden with scholars and every movable manuscript from the Citadel. Many ancient manuscripts, too fragile to move, were left behind after the Citadel's archmaesters pleaded with Khal Drogo.

Even after leaving many ancient texts, the amount of material to be transported was staggering. The Dothraki commandeered numerous carts and freed thousands of warhorses to transport these treasures to Highgarden.

Upon their return, King Viserys punished Khal Drogo for the Dothraki's actions in the old town. In a public display, Viserys whipped Drogo three times. Drogo, shirtless, knelt silently, accepting each lash as if it had been pre-agreed.

Afterwards, in recognition of the Dothraki's contributions, Viserys appointed Drogo as War Minister of the new dynasty, doubling the Dothraki's territories across the Narrow Sea. He also promised to lead them back to Vaes Dothrak and rule all tribes.

The Dothraki, elated by the king's promise, raised their arakhs in a jubilant cheer, as if the earlier punishment was forgotten.

Following this, Viserys met the scholars from the Citadel, who had been brought to Highgarden.

Chapter 550: Dissolution of the Citadel

Inside one of the most magnificent white marble structures of Highgarden, lavish woolen carpets lay beneath intricately carved stone pillars. On either side, satin banners embroidered with the Targaryen sigil - a red, three-headed dragon on a black background - hang proudly.

Beneath the grand dais, a multitude of men, dressed simply but adorned with various links, stood in anticipation. Among them were elder maesters, distinguished by their unique rings, rods, and masks, signifying mastery in their respective fields. Behind them were many other outstanding scholars.

These scholars were here to meet the new king, a task of utmost importance. Even their selection was meticulous, leaving many assistant maesters out due to sheer numbers.

They had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, their legs numbing and heads clouding with fatigue. Yet, they exchanged glances, none daring to voice their discomfort or seek rest, for there were no seats except for the grand throne. Flanking them were the fearsome Dothraki screamers, dressed in beastly armor and brandishing their menacing arakhs, eyeing the unarmed scholars with predatory intent.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps echoed from behind the marble hall.

"Your Grace." "Your Grace."

Guard and maiden salutations filled the air, reinvigorating the weary scholars.

"He's coming."

Whispers spread among them, the realization that the young dragon king, of whom tales had been told, was arriving. They exchanged glances, sensing the gravity of the moment, realizing their fate rested on his whims.

The massive oak doors behind the hall opened, revealing a finely dressed, handsome young man with silver hair. His pale purple eyes, reminiscent of precious gems, surveyed the room. His silver-gold hair cascaded over his shoulders, pinned with a shining three-headed dragon brooch.

"Your Grace."

The scholars in the hall shouted in unison, bowing slightly in reverence, including the distinguished maesters.

"Welcome to Highgarden," Viserys acknowledged, taking his seat with a calm demeanor.

Despite the pleasantries, the scholars were clearly on edge due to the threatening presence of the Dothraki. However, Viserys addressed them directly, revealing his intentions.

"The Citadel will henceforth be divided, and its traditions should be updated."

The scholars gasped in disbelief. Viserys's command was clear and left no room for negotiation. He proposed splitting the Citadel into distinct academies based on major disciplines and relocating them to key cities in Westeros, such as Oldtown, King's Landing, and eventually White Harbor.

A new academy would be built in White Harbor once the North was reclaimed. The most urgent task was establishing one in King's Landing, where Viserys had plans for new structures.

The division of the Citadel was not a sudden decision. The institution, being the pinnacle of knowledge in Westeros, held countless books, and its loss would be catastrophic. Therefore, Viserys had long considered how best to preserve it.

The proposed academies would cover Medicine, Military Strategy, Economics, Literature, Metallurgy, and Astronomy. Viserys also introduced the idea of a Theological Academy, encompassing the faiths of the Seven, Old Gods, and Rhoynar, and even integrating the growing Red Faith and other lesser-known religions. All future septons and septas would require formal training and certification from the Iron Throne.

The theological proposal was unanimously approved. Tyrion Lannister, the king's personal advisor, then suggested a legal academy, but after careful consideration, Viserys rejected the idea.

Chapter 551: Iron Islands

After the classification of the academies, the next step was the allocation of their respective regions. A matter that could have caused much contention was swiftly approved during the imperial council meeting.

The Kingdom's Military Academy, Medical School, School of Economics, and School of Theology were established in King's Landing, with the Raven Academy absorbed into the Military Academy as a subsidiary.

Schools of Literature, History, and Linguistics were merged into a single School of Liberal Arts. Suited for the crafting of elegant poetry and the recording of historical events, such as the number of steps in Oldtown or a scholar's lifetime bowel movements, they were best placed in the idyllic Oldtown.

Astrology, crucial for predicting seasonal changes and aiding in agricultural endeavors in Westeros, was separated from the School of Liberal Arts and established as an independent Astrological Academy.

The administrative hierarchy of both schools would be of equal rank, allowing them to share the resources of Oldtown.

As for other disciplines like Metallurgy and Architecture, they were ultimately situated temporarily between Lannisport and White Harbor, with the latter being chosen for now.

Viserys issued the decree to split the institutions, and the meek scholars clad in grey dared not resist, with a few even showing signs of elation.

They foresaw their newfound roles as deans bringing them unprecedented power, potentially rivaling the current High Seneschal of the academies.

Everyone has their own desires—power, wealth, beauty, fame, and so on.

With the King's will unyielding and orders issued, none dared to defy, reluctantly agreeing to the new terms.

The scholars left alive were those not stubborn enough to die. They exchanged glances; some were visibly pleased, while others were filled with worry.

Many were caught between joy and anxiety, uncertain of their future amidst such drastic changes.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

Viserys then rose and left, and the scholars collectively bowed, accepting their fate, as they watched the young silver-haired king depart.

With the wars in the Riverlands concluded and the southern kingdom subdued, Viserys led his army back to King's Landing after a brief stay in Highgarden.

Meanwhile, the westerlands, from which no news had come, were aflame with conflict.

Before marching off, Oberyn had borrowed a fleet from Master of Ships, Jeffrey Brecken, and dispatched the survivors of the Iron Fleet— the last of the Ironborn.

Led by Euron Greyjoy, they stealthily returned to the deserted Iron Islands, which had been ravaged by the White Walkers.

Even after spending time clearing the remaining wights, they couldn't eliminate them all, for the threat of the White Walkers remained, especially in the areas north of the Neck.

Euron, having been in contact with Viserys, knew that the White Walkers would return. The power of the Others had not faded in the North; it was gathering strength for the next final battle between humanity and the dead.

Thus, Euron and his men landed at Pyke, scaling the near-vertical cliffs with ropes to enter the castle. They cleared out the wights, even finding Euron's brother, Aeron Greyjoy, who had turned into a horrifying creature.

However, there was no sign of his elder brother Balon or his niece Asha. They could either be dead, turned into wights, or still alive.

Euron did not kill Aeron to give him peace but chained him up like a dog in the Bloody Keep, ignoring his frenzied howls.

Euron claimed he would never harm a family member, not wanting to be a kinslayer like Stannis.

Therefore, Aeron was left alive.

After securing Pyke, Euron led the Ironborn towards the westerlands.

The Iron Islands had turned into a desolate land, and to rebuild it, they needed a large population.

And what was the closest densely populated area to the Iron Islands? Lannisport.

Following Oberyn's orders from long ago, the Iron Fleet set its sights on Lannisport.

The surprise attack was a massive success. Lannisport's navy was still recovering from the burning it had suffered five years ago during the Iron Islands' rebellion.

All their attention was on the external enemy—Targaryen forces were laying siege, dragons were soaring overhead, causing heavy losses to the Westerlands' army.

No one had expected an attack from the sea, especially not from the Iron Islands, which they thought had been turned into a land of the dead.

Booming sounds echoed as trebuchets launched flaming boulders into Lannisport, destroying all the ships and scorpions in the harbor.

Lannisport's airtight defenses were compromised.

Princess Rhaenys, riding her green dragon Rhaegal, was circling above, out of reach of any scorpions.

Targaryen forces had been in the Westerlands for months, yet Lannisport remained unconquered due to the stubborn resistance from the Westerlands' army.

Seeing the Iron Fleet destroy the scorpions and break the defense, Rhaenys was overjoyed.

"Rhaegal!"

"It's your turn!"

"Burn them all!"

Her smaller, bronze dragon roared and dived, breathing fire onto the battlefield below.

Chapter 552: The Fall of the City

The Iron Fleet struck the port of Lannisport like a bolt from the blue, tearing through the city's defenses. Once a chink appeared in its impregnable armor, the walls crumbled like a cascade of snow.

Dragonfire shattered the walls of Lannisport, and the Targaryen forces surged into the city. Oberyn Martell, spear in hand, led the charge. His eyes were ablaze, his body soaked in the blood of enemies.

"Die!"

An enemy soldier from House Lannister, feigning death on the ground, lunged at Oberyn in a desperate attempt at assassination.

Thrust—

Oberyn, the Red Viper, was quicker. His spear pierced the soldier's chest, and blood spurted like a fountain. The dying man's eyes carried a look of defiance as he drew his last breath.

"Dig three feet into the ground and find Tywin, that old cur! He must not escape!" Oberyn, covered in blood, roared, his eyes bloodshot.

He had waited too long for this day. Tywin was finally defeated; victory was within reach.

Roar!

The Targaryen soldiers echoed their commander's battle cry, drawing their swords to finish off the remaining Westerlanders clinging to life.

The Western forces had put up a fierce resistance. The city had been loyal to House Lannister, and the Targaryens had paid a heavy price for their conquest.

Tywin Lannister, a master of warfare in Westeros, had denied Oberyn any opportunity to gain the upper hand. Oberyn had felt helpless at times.

However, no fortress is impregnable. Oberyn had found Tywin's weak point and exploited it, breaking the city's indomitable spirit.

Yet, this did not mean Tywin was inferior. The Targaryens had dragons, after all. Tywin's resolute defense of the Westerlands for months was commendable. He had even pushed Oberyn to the brink.

Months ago, the Riverlands had joined the fray, cutting off the Targaryen army's supply line. Tywin had then trapped the Targaryen forces between his armies, putting them at risk of total annihilation.

Oberyn had taken a desperate gamble, plunging deeper into the Westerlands, heading towards Casterly Rock.

The fortress, as its name suggested, was a castle atop a massive rock. Its walls were impregnable, never having fallen in history. But Tyrion had told Oberyn a secret about Casterly Rock.

As a child, Tyrion and Jaime had played in the Hall of Heroes underneath Casterly Rock, the Lannister family crypt near the sea. Tyrion remembered the sound of thunder each time the tide came in.

Tyrion had discovered a hidden passage leading from the Hall of Heroes to the sea, large enough for a ship. Oberyn had used this information, leading a desperate attack straight into Casterly Rock.

Caught off guard, the Lannister forces lost control of the city gates, and the Targaryen army poured in, capturing a fortress that had never been taken.

Tywin Lannister could only lament the loss of his stronghold.

Dragons had finally turned the tide. Daenerys Targaryen had flown in on Rhaegal to rescue Oberyn, forcing the Lannister army to retreat and regroup in the wilderness. They waged a guerrilla war against the dragonfire that rained down upon the Westerlands.

And now, the Targaryen army had surrounded Lannisport, the largest and most populous city in the Westerlands, igniting the final battle of this western front.

Chapter 553: Capturing Tywin Alive

"Tywin!"

"Where is Tywin Lannister?"

The Targaryen forces had stormed Lannisport, yet the elusive Lord Tywin was nowhere to be found. Oberyn Martell ordered a thorough search, vowing to unearth Tywin, even if it meant tearing the ground asunder.

The Iron Fleet had burned the Lannister ships anchored at Lannisport. With the Targaryen army encroaching and dragons soaring above, Tywin's situation was dire.

Ultimately, diligence paid off. Oberyn's suspicion was accurate. A Targaryen soldier discovered Tywin hiding in a cellar beneath an inconspicuous civilian house in Lannisport.

The once-majestic Lord Tywin was now a pitiable sight. His armor was caked in mud, his crimson cloak tattered, and his balding head was marred by a bloody gash, likely from crawling into the cellar.

Gone were his loyal guards; Tywin was alone, hiding in the dark, hoping to evade capture. But fate had other plans.

The discovery of Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, drew a crowd and presented the Targaryen forces with a significant dilemma.

"Beat him!"

"Kill this old dog!"

By the time Oberyn arrived, Tywin's face was swollen and bruised, his glowing red ruby pried from his armor. One of the robust Targaryen soldiers had even knocked out his teeth.

"Legion Commander."

"Prince Oberyn."

As the Prince of Dorne approached with stern intent, the soldiers encircling the battered Tywin hastily saluted and cleared the path.

Oberyn, still clad in his blood-stained armor, had rushed over without even wiping the blood from his face. He quickly assessed the scene: his soldiers were humiliating Tywin, who lay on the ground.

"Stop!" Oberyn's face was stern as he seized the wrist of a soldier about to strike Tywin again.

"Who dares—"

The soldier began, but upon recognizing Oberyn, his indignation evaporated, replaced by icy dread.

"Sir."

Ignoring him, Oberyn released his wrist. The offending soldiers quickly vanished into the crowd.

His gaze remained locked on Tywin, who was sprawled on the ground. The once-proud Lannister crest, a golden lion, now marred and torn on his red cloak.

"Lord Tywin," Oberyn began, his cold smile unnerving.

Tywin breathed a sigh of relief. As a Lannister, he'd never envisioned such a fall from grace. He'd been humiliated, his weapons confiscated, leaving him defenseless and subjected to public scorn.

He rose, wiping the blood from his lips, his eyes meeting Oberyn's. Suppressing his inner turmoil, Tywin spoke.

"Prince Oberyn."

His voice was hoarse, subdued. "I fought and lost. What will you do with me?"

Tywin glanced around at the sea of hostile Targaryen faces, then looked back at Oberyn. "Will you let them continue to humiliate me for sport? Or beat me to death?"

Even now, Tywin maintained the composure of a lord, never stooping to desperation.

Oberyn's eyes remained piercing. "No," he finally said, shaking his head. "I won't do that."

He had no such sadistic pleasure in mind. Oberyn took a few steps closer to Tywin, handing his bloodied spear to a nearby guard, who promptly retreated.

Tywin, still standing his ground, felt his breathing quicken involuntarily.

Both men locked eyes, the surrounding soldiers maintaining a respectful silence.

"No," Oberyn broke the silence. "That would be too easy for you, Lord Tywin."

His face still wore that icy, almost mocking smile. Oberyn had long desired vengeance for his sister's death, and he had just been debating whether to slit Tywin's throat right there.

In the end, he let go of the dagger at his waist.

Tywin exhaled deeply, sensing he'd narrowly escaped death. "You'll stand trial in King's Landing, before tens of thousands. You'll confess your crimes and then you will die. Your words will be lost to the wind, your House forgotten, but your shame will be eternal."

Oberyn's voice was icy as he concluded.

Chapter 554: The Curse Affects Nine Generations

The final battle in the Westerlands unfolds at Lannisport, culminating in a decisive victory for the Targaryen army with the assistance of their Iron Fleet and dragons. Tywin Lannister, the leader of the rebel forces, is captured.

Translation:

Tywin Lannister had long ruled the Westerlands with an iron grip, his authority unquestionable. But when he fell, the remaining nobles of the Westerlands lacked the cohesion to stand against their enemies and swiftly bent the knee.

However, Oberyn Martell, known as the Red Viper, was not inclined to show mercy to the Lannister family. Vengeful and unforgiving, he fulfilled his promise to Tywin: he would decimate the Lannister line and nail Tywin's name to the pillar of shame.

The Lannisters were prolific breeders. Their ancestor, "Clever" Lann, was said to have swindled Casterly Rock from the Casterlys. Lann lived an astonishing 312 years, siring a hundred brave sons and a hundred agile daughters, all handsome men and beautiful women.

In time, the Lannister lineage grew too large for Casterly Rock, leading some branches to settle in nearby villages. These villages eventually became towns and then cities, evolving into the modern-day Lannisport. This explained the city's staunch resistance against the Targaryen forces.

Now, Oberyn had successfully captured Casterly Rock and Lannisport. To avenge the stubborn resistance of the Westerlands and the wrongs done to his sister, Elia Martell, he ordered the massacre of all Lannisters in the city. No one remotely related to Tywin was spared; it was guilt by association to the ninth degree.

Oberyn intended for Tywin to witness the obliteration of his family line. At first, Tywin seemed unfazed. But as the deaths mounted, his eyes became bloodshot, his initial rage turning into numbness.

He watched helplessly as his nephews, including Kevan's eldest son Lancel and Tygett's son Tyrek, were led to the executioner's block and beheaded before him.

"Lord Tywin, it seems the Lannister name will now rest with the son you loathe the most," said Oberyn, his face a mask of insincere smiles, triggering Tywin's helpless fury.

The Red Viper was a master at psychological torture, always probing the limits of his victims' endurance without pushing them into madness. Gregor Clegane, known as "The Mountain," had already been subjected to Oberyn's brutal treatment and yet retained his sanity.

With the Westerlands secured, Oberyn's name became synonymous with demonic cruelty, enough to make even infants stop crying. His retribution had extended to anyone in Lannisport with golden hair, leading to widespread persecution by Targaryen soldiers.

"Seize him! He is the last of the Lannisters!"

Citizens with a hint of golden hair in Lannisport dared not venture into the streets. Even their homes were no sanctuary, as soldiers broke in to capture any potential "Lannister remnants."

News of this impending massacre reached King's Landing, and the Small Council had to intervene. Only then did Oberyn halt his troops, preventing further escalation.

Yet the Lannister name was practically wiped out in the Westerlands, at least for a time. The only exceptions were Tyrion Lannister, now a royal advisor, and the imprisoned former queen.

But for Tyrion, who had always been treated with disdain by his own family, there was little room for empathy. Alone in the dead of night, he might indulge in a drinking bout, followed by a fit of tears.

This information was provided by Varys, the Master of Whisperers.

Tyrion's reaction upon receiving the news was observed by members of the Small Council. He ordered several women in the brothel, drank to his heart's content, vomited, and cried. Yet, the next day, he attended the Small Council meeting as if nothing had happened, perhaps bidding farewell to a life once lived.

Meanwhile, in far-off King's Landing, Oberyn's actions in Lannisport had stirred a major outcry.

"How many petitions is that for today?" said Viserys Targaryen, sitting in the king's study in Maegor's Holdfast.

"The third," replied Varys, his hands tucked into his wide sleeves.

"Oberyn's deeds in Lannisport are truly difficult to put into words," said Varys cautiously. "He has touched upon the red lines of all nobility, naturally resulting in strong backlash."

Viserys crumpled the third petition from the nobles and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. Varys then broached another sensitive topic.

"Your Grace, there is another matter. My little birds report that a man named the High Sparrow had contact with Aegon. The zealots angered by Balerion's desecration of the Starry Sept tried to storm the Red Keep. They call themselves the Holy Swordsmen. They have been dealt with, but the High Sparrow's connection with Aegon is concerning."

Chapter 555: Prince Aegon

"Aegon?"

The name Aegon had long been absent from Viserys' ears.

In this world, there existed two 'Aegons.' One is now known as Aegon Targaryen, while the other is Jon Snow.

Viserys had visited the latter, the 'younger Aegon,' under various pretexts.

King's Landing was currently a nexus for individuals whose influence on history was monumental—like Theon Greyjoy, who by some accounts had a better claim to the Iron Islands than Euron Greyjoy, also resided here.

The Stark children had a complex dynamic. Robb Stark, the eldest son of the Lord of Winterfell, naturally held the highest status among his siblings.

He favored his brother Brandon and took good care of his father's bastard, Jon Snow. However, he looked down upon his foster brother, Theon, as he was not a true 'Stark.'

As a native of the Iron Islands, Theon dared not defy Robb, yet he had little respect for Jon Snow, which he masked well.

Theon envisioned himself as the future Lord of Pyke, while Robb would rule Winterfell. Jon Snow, as a bastard, would inherit nothing.

Overall, Jon Snow left a favorable impression on Viserys. A shy boy with dark hair, Jon sought the approval of his siblings but was often alienated due to his status.

Viserys had visited this young man but had not taken him away.

The other Aegon claimed to be the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Elia Martell of Dorne, the younger brother to Princess Rhaenys.

He had come to King's Landing long ago to learn military strategy from his uncle Viserys. However, Viserys did not take him under his wing.

Thus, Aegon remained in King's Landing, marginalized, unable to ascend to the Iron Throne like his sister Rhaenys.

Dorne seemed to support Rhaenys and Queen Arianne Martell more, as both sons and daughters had equal inheritance rights in Dorne.

Before the birth of Viserys' eldest daughter, Daenerys was the designated heir, then Rhaenys, and then Aegon. But with Princess Daenerys' birth, Aegon's claim was further marginalized.

Moreover, Aegon's parentage remained a mystery. Silver hair and purple eyes were not unique in Essos, and his claims were met with skepticism.

Thus, Aegon was sidelined, with rumors circulating that he was a 'false dragon.'

However, Aegon had not been idle in King's Landing. Brought up with noble education, he had won the hearts of the local nobility and the starving populace by distributing food.

It was during this time that Aegon met the Sparrows, who approved of his charitable deeds and subtly badmouthed his uncle Viserys.

They accused Viserys of impiety towards the Seven and blamed him for the homelessness and hunger in King's Landing.

However, they failed to mention how Viserys had stopped the Night King and led humanity to victory.

The Sparrows attributed this to the Seven hearing the cries of their followers and intervening.

Upon hearing these ideas, Aegon felt uneasy and left Flea Bottom, avoiding the Sparrows for days.

But a few days later, Aegon was cornered by some Sparrows. They claimed they meant no harm; someone wished to meet him.

And so, Aegon ended up meeting this person—an elderly, lean man with grey hair, who was washing his clothes.

Upon Aegon's greeting, the man paused, wiped his forehead, and turned to look at Aegon.

"Welcome, heir to the Iron Throne," said the High Sparrow, his gaze stern yet filled with kindness.

His voice was neither pleasant nor melodious, but it offered a sense of security.

Aegon felt uneasy. "Pardon me for interrupting, but my uncle seems to favor my sister more?"

Everyone knew Viserys favored Rhaenys and had practically designated her as his heir, especially now that Princess Daenerys had been born.

"Affection is the enemy of duty," said the grey-haired elder, shaking his head.

"Subjects bow to their lords, lords bow to their king, and kings must bow to the Seven. According to the Holy Seven-Pointed Star, until a male heir is born, you are the heir to the Iron Throne, Prince Aegon," declared the High Sparrow, his gaze intense.

Chapter 556: East Factory, West Factory

Ever since Aegon encountered the High Sparrow, he had been deeply moved by his words, visiting Flea Bottom regularly to seek his guidance.

The High Sparrow was a man of vast experience and a devout monk, his true name long forgotten.

He claimed to have wandered through all corners of the realm, his calloused feet bearing witness to his words.

The High Sparrow held Aegon in high regard, believing it was his sacred duty to guide the heir to the Iron Throne toward piety, thus imparting many of his beliefs to the young prince.

He condemned the current High Septons as corpulent pigs who had infiltrated the Septs, deserving the punishment of the Seven Gods. He advocated for the church to rally the impoverished and the Knights of the Holy Sword once more.

By wielding force, the church could uphold justice, punishing nobles who defy the will of the Seven, while the true heir to the Iron Throne should be the only male descendant of the king.

Now, the High Sparrow had amassed a large following among the common folk.

These people willingly rallied around him, lurking beneath the surface of King's Landing, unnoticed by the nobles above.

The emergence of the High Sparrow was both accidental and inevitable.

A few years back, wildlings had begun to frequently appear south of the Wall, looting and pillaging, signaling the onset of chaos.

Then came the arrival of winter, with hundreds of thousands of wildlings migrating south, bringing down the Wall with their Horn of Winter.

The war had begun, culminating in the invasion of the White Walkers, triggering the largest mass migration in human history. Many Northerners had been driven south, further fueling the chaos.

The alliance of men defeated the White Walkers but immediately splintered, plunging into civil war.

All this turmoil led to a population explosion in King's Landing. The people, impoverished and cold, sought spiritual comfort to distract themselves.

And thus, the High Sparrow emerged, a product of these chaotic conditions.

"Varys, your negligence in managing the Small Council is causing Aegon to be misled," Viserys concluded after listening to Varys' report. He had indeed neglected governance due to his focus on military campaigns.

Conforming to Lady Olenna's advice, ruling was harder than conquering.

Although Viserys had once ordered the church to forgive the crown's debts and had provided financial relief to the refugees, such actions were but temporary solutions.

The Iron Throne and the Small Council should take responsibility for finding a permanent solution for these refugees.

Their options were limited: either wage a new war and send these refugees to their deaths or find them a new home.

Plans were already underway to reclaim the North, and Viserys was willing to give Littlefinger more time to handle the Vale.

After consolidating the Vale, the next focus would be on repairing the Neck's causeways and initiating other strategic focuses.

Regarding the development, Viserys had already surveyed potential locations for academies within King's Landing.

Among the plans, he intended to flatten Dragonpit to construct a large military academy, the most extensive among the proposed schools.

"Summon the High Septon and Aegon. I wish to discuss matters with them," Viserys ordered. "Leave this to the Internal Affairs Department, Varys. You needn't worry."

Varys nodded respectfully, "Yes, Your Grace."

Varys' network focused more on 'public' intelligence, while Ramsay Snow's Internal Affairs Department performed darker, clandestine operations.

Viserys saw them as his version of the 'East Factory' and 'West Factory,' a check and balance system, all deriving power from the throne.

Should Viserys entrust this to Ramsay, it signaled a bloodbath, indicating the king would show no mercy to these zealous monks.

Varys could already foresee the upcoming storm of bloodshed in King's Landing but chose not to interfere.

Unfortunately for Aegon, if evidence were found against him, he would not escape trouble.

"Your Grace," Varys bowed slightly before exiting Viserys' study. Soon after, the High Septon arrived at the Red Keep, hurriedly carrying the Seven-Pointed Star.

Chapter 557: Chapter 557

Inside the Red Keep

Eggon was presently fraught with distress. News of the recent Riverlands War had reached him, detailing how the Dothraki and Dornish forces had crushed their enemies, conquering several cities, and defeating the Tyrells of Highgarden. They had also taken Oldtown.

But herein lay the issue—his uncle was recuperating in Highgarden and had not been present in the battles. His dragon, during the conquest of Oldtown, had burned down the Sept of Stars, toppling the statues of the Seven.

In King's Landing, where the Faith of the Seven was the dominant religion, this caused quite an uproar.

Some claimed that it was the King's directive for the dragon to commit this act, showing contempt for the gods. Others argued that the King wasn't even present on the battlefield, only his dragon had flown to Oldtown, and thus committed this sacrilege.

"Would you dare to punish the dragon?"

Varys' "little birds" and Ramsay's internal affairs department had silently monitored public opinion regarding this incident.

They had both submitted similar reports to Viserys, suggesting that the Iron Throne and the Small Council were testing the waters. The Faith of the Seven was losing its grip on public sentiment, especially after their inaction during the White Walker invasion and the prophecies of the Red Priestesses coming true.

The faith in the Seven was waning, and royal authority was gaining weight in the eyes of the people. It was the mortals, after all, who had stood up to save the world when the gods had not.

Despite the wavering faith, there was a group of fanatical followers who were extremely dissatisfied. They had tried to storm the Red Keep but were repelled by the Unsullied.

The Unsullied showed no mercy, loyally executing their master's orders against these rioters who had neither armor nor weapons. It was a one-sided massacre.

The corpses were piled high, the steps of the Red Keep stained red with their blood, and by nightfall, everything had been cleaned, leaving no trace.

Eggon had rushed out upon hearing the news, and he recognized some familiar faces among the corpses. They were his former companions, the sparrows that had led him.

His inner fear intensified, his complexion turning slightly pale.

The maidservant attending to Eggon thought the young prince was merely shocked by the bloody scene, unaware of what he had previously done.

However, now his uncle had suddenly sent for him, and Eggon's heartbeat quickened.

He instinctively knew that his secret was out.

"I'm doomed..."

The silver-haired youth felt an impending calamity as he followed the Unsullied through the Red Keep's gardens towards the Small Council chamber, his mind blank.

His forehead was breaking out in a cold sweat; he didn't even know which leg to move first. For someone his age, it was too early to be involved in court intrigues; he simply didn't possess the skill or cunning.

If Eggon had remained low-key, biding his time, he might have had a slim chance. But any minor slip-up would lead to suppression.

How could he possibly be a match for those born and raised in King's Landing, seasoned in courtly deceit?

Chapter 558: Operation Black Sweep

Within the Red Keep, secret plots unfolded, unbeknownst to the public.

After Viserys ascended the throne, a complete overhaul of the personnel took place. The Unsullied, loyal to the core, replaced the former guards. Wet nurses and serving maids from the other side of the Narrow Sea, from places like Andalos and the Hightower, filled in the vacancies.

Sofia, an elderly servant who had served multiple Targaryen kings and had been a personal maid to Viserys's mother, returned to the Red Keep to assist Queen Arianne in caring for Princess Daenerys.

Today's Red Keep was not the same as during Robert's era, where information would leak like a sieve. Now, the common folk in King's Landing were in the dark, but they had grown accustomed to the shifts in political power.

Prince Aegon, the son of King Rhaegar, shocked all by announcing his allegiance to the Faith of the Seven. He abandoned his family name, devoting himself wholly to the Seven and becoming a prominent figure within the Faith.

On the other side, the City Watch, now in golden cloaks, and a mysterious group dressed in black were out in force.

"Quick, quick, quick!"

"Don't let them escape!"

Their actions were surgical. They kicked down doors, apprehending those involved in the Red Keep insurrection.

These individuals had returned home, thinking they had escaped doom. Little did they know they had been watched all along, bringing calamity upon their own families.

Thud—

Agents from the Master of Whisperers and the City Watch soldiers burst in. Any resistance was futile.

"You heretical scum!"

An old man, his hair peppered with gray, trembled in anger at the sight of the soldiers, conveniently forgetting his own role in the chaos.

He had helped destroy shops that supported the king, set a brothel ablaze, and two young girls had perished in the flames.

He lunged at an agent from the Master of Whisperers with a kitchen knife.

"Hmph—"

"Old man, you're seeking your own death."

The agent, dressed in black and masked, narrowed his icy eyes.

I've seen many rebellious citizens, he thought, but none survive the Master of Whisperers' interrogations.

"Kill him!"

The leader of the agents commanded.

Crossbows lifted in unison, and in an instant, the old man was pinned to the wall, blood spattering.

"Father!"

The old man's son charged in a fit of rage and sorrow, but what could he do against armored soldiers? His fists met metal, ineffective, scraping his palms.

A spear thrust through his chest, and he collapsed in a pool of blood.

"By the King's command!"

"Arrest all rioters!"

The soldiers, in gleaming armor and blood-stained spears, roared.

"Anyone who resists, dies!"

The golden cloaks, now trained by the Unsullied, were a new force—disciplined, formidable, unlike their corrupt predecessors.

"Gods will punish you all!"

The old man's last words were a curse, his eyes widened, blood frothing from his mouth.

The same scene played out across King's Landing.

"City Watch! Open the door!"

The citizens were too terrified to comply. Soldiers kicked down doors and stormed in.

And so, in disciplined rows, the City Watch swept through the streets of King's Landing, causing panic among the commoners.

They apprehended numerous rioters, many of whom were summarily executed or imprisoned.

But the ring leader, known as 'Big Sparrow,' was nowhere to be found. It seemed he had information that allowed him to flee King's Landing just in time.

Chapter 559: Chapter 559 - Miracle

"Apologies, Your Grace."

"We have failed in capturing the leader of the rabble, the so-called 'Sparrow.'"

Inside the Red Keep, Varys knelt on one knee, his face marred by guilt. He had assured Viserys of cleansing the realm of these miscreants, yet the bandit leader had eluded him.

Perhaps Sparrow had been forewarned; he had many 'friends' in King's Landing, and covert supporters, which explained the rapid growth of his so-called Holy Order of Knights. Their rapid expansion defied logic, and they could even afford to distribute gruel and broth daily.

This would require further investigation.

Ramsay also knelt before the Iron Throne, flanked by roaring pyres. He too pledged to Viserys to discover the whereabouts of Sparrow and out his secret allies in the court.

Yet the silver-haired youth, adorned in a brocade robe, sat on the cold Iron Throne, his silver-gold locks cascading over his shoulders.

The surrounding flames illuminated his delicate, handsome face and the gloomy hall.

"Oh? Sparrow has fled?"

His expression remained calm, as if he had anticipated Sparrow's escape.

After all, Sparrow's eloquence had garnered him a following amongst the downtrodden, who served as his perfect informants.

Any ripples in King's Landing would reach Sparrow's ears before even Viserys became aware.

His escape was not entirely unexpected.

"It matters not."

Viserys lightly gripped the armrests of the Iron Throne.

"He cannot escape..."

Suddenly, his pale violet eyes blazed like twin purple flames.

Images flickered rapidly in his pupils as if time itself was rewinding, ultimately focusing on a specific moment.

"Sparrow!"

A man in coarse clothing ran to Sparrow with news. The elderly Sparrow, his hair gray, looked horrified upon hearing the news.

He wanted to warn all Sparrows to evacuate early but was advised against it by the man, who cautioned that any premature moves would blow their cover.

After pondering for a while, Sparrow gritted his teeth and agreed.

"Very well."

He greeted his devout followers as if nothing was amiss and retreated into a chamber, never to emerge again.

Below this chamber was a tunnel leading to a civilian house outside Flea Bottom. Sparrow crawled out and found a carriage waiting for him.

Avoiding the city gates, they headed for Fisherman's Square in King's Landing, a smuggling route commonly referred to as 'Mud Gate' by the locals.

Here, Sparrow vanished completely after boarding a small wooden boat.

Viserys, through the power of the Old Gods, had traversed time and space. Using the Iron Throne as an anchor, he had followed Sparrow's every move, witnessing how the latter had eluded Varys and Ramsay.

Sparrow's ingenuity was beyond what one would expect from a powerless monk. Viserys knew that he must have local supporters in King's Landing.

Who could it be?

That would be discovered soon.

For now, the priority was to recapture the elusive Sparrow.

Viserys, perched high on the Iron Throne, gripped the cold armrest, his eyes glowing with pale purple flames.

The two men kneeling below exchanged glances, their eyes filled with concealed astonishment.

"This is..."

But then, the purple flames in Viserys' eyes vanished, returning to tranquility.

"Found you."

The silver-haired youth stood up, his voice echoing in the empty hall.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished into a mist of darkness, leaving Ramsay and Varys staring at the now-empty Iron Throne.

"A miracle!"

"This is a miracle!"

Ramsay, still kneeling, was overwhelmed with awe.

He had never expected to witness such a shocking spectacle—King Viserys had vanished into a swirling mist right before their eyes.

This seemed to align with the rumors about the King possessing some dreadful magic that could command dragons and hold his own against the Night King.

Some soldiers had claimed to see Viserys riding dragons, using dark magic to repel the Night King, thereby saving mankind.

As for Grey Worm, the commander of the Unsullied, he slowly rose, holding his helmet with its distinctive three spikes. Although he said nothing, his eyes could hardly conceal his astonishment.

This event had shattered his worldview.

"Tell me, Grey Worm, is our King still a man?" Ramsay finally spoke, brushing off the dirt as he stood.

His question was not meant to insult Viserys but was a genuine inquiry.

But Grey Worm only glanced at him; he didn't particularly like Ramsay, who was far too ruthless.

Without a word, Grey Worm left the throne room, his footsteps echoing in the hall.

Meanwhile, at a manor outside King's Landing, Sparrow was tilling the soil when a dark mist materialized behind him, taking human form.

It was Viserys.

"Are you Sparrow?"

Chapter 560: The Ambush

"Are you the High Sparrow?"

Upon hearing the calm voice emanate from close behind him, the High Sparrow, who was tilling the soil in his vegetable garden, paused momentarily.

Though he was advanced in age, he wasn't hard of hearing. He should have heard anyone approaching, yet...

Setting down his hoe, the elderly man garbed in a simple, earthen-colored robe turned around.

Standing behind him was a young man with silver-gold hair, a face of uncommon beauty, and an unflappable demeanor. He wore a black velvet robe adorned with gold-threaded embroidery and a belt studded with emeralds, the sun glinting off a dragonhead brooch on his chest.

The High Sparrow's pupils contracted instantly, his expression full of dread.

"You are..."

Upon seeing Viserys, he seemed to have guessed the young man's identity, but he couldn't fathom why Viserys would seek him out.

Since becoming a devout monk, the High Sparrow had committed himself entirely to the Faith of the Seven. Emotional upheavals like this were rare for him.

Yet the sudden appearance of Viserys unnerved him more than hearing about the Small Council's decision to purge the Sparrows within the city.

The High Sparrow was a shrewd man; he'd already guessed Viserys's identity. Not understanding how Viserys arrived, he fell silent briefly before speaking in his raspy voice.

"The most honored guest in the Seven Kingdoms graces this old man's door unannounced. I'm caught somewhat off guard."

Viserys's sudden appearance left the High Sparrow with no escape, so he gave up resisting.

"There's a cottage over there, Your Grace. Shall we sit and talk?"

The High Sparrow was now hiding in an estate outside of King's Landing. It was hard to rally Sparrows outside the city to resist the Iron Throne collectively.

"People have lands to tend to, and most of the landowners here are Targaryen knights and soldiers. If I go there to preach, I could well be sent packing."

"More surprising than my sudden appearance is the fact that you, the High Sparrow, who claims to serve the people, owns such an expansive estate outside the city."

After settling into the cottage, Viserys looked around before fixing his gaze back on the High Sparrow.

The High Sparrow's wrinkled cheeks relaxed a bit upon hearing Viserys's words. He poured a hot cup of tea for the king before shaking his head.

"Your Grace misunderstands. I swear by the Gods, I have no ulterior motives."

"Owning this estate merely serves the Gods and the impoverished better, Your Grace."

The elderly man in his simple, earthen-colored robe and gray hair spoke again in his raspy voice.

"If I didn't accept the estate, they wouldn't be at ease."

"We lowly tillers of the soil are the true majority."

"Who are 'they'?"

The silver-haired young man sat in the cottage, ignoring the hot tea the High Sparrow had poured. He asked with keen interest.

The High Sparrow only shook his head, unwilling to divulge the identities of those in King's Landing supporting them.

"I might believe you took this estate without any selfish reasons."

The High Sparrow didn't confess, and Viserys didn't press. Even if he didn't speak, finding out was only a matter of time.

After all, establishing a new dynasty often meant doing so atop the corpses of the old one. And Viserys had ruffled many feathers—some might feign submission but still sought to cause trouble. This was to be expected.

However, when Viserys agreed, the High Sparrow was somewhat stunned. He had thought someone as lofty as Viserys could never understand someone dedicating themselves entirely to others and their faith.

"You believe me?"

The elderly man with gray hair questioned skeptically.

"Everyone has a purpose in what they do."

"The purpose you speak of is one among them. Some people seek spiritual fulfillment; there's nothing incomprehensible about that."

"If everyone only loved gold and beauty, wouldn't the world be rather dull?"

Viserys, dressed in his black velvet robe, sat leisurely, a steaming cup of tea before him, speaking calmly.

He noticed that several Sparrows armed with swords were slowly approaching from outside, yet he remained utterly composed.

Viserys's words left the High Sparrow, a man well-versed in debates, momentarily at a loss for words.

Had all he had done been merely to satisfy his own spiritual needs?

"Your Grace, what are your views on the Gods?"

The High Sparrow felt a moment of confusion, but the followers he'd rallied acted on his behalf.

"He's the tyrant!"

"Kill him!"

"Overthrow the Targaryen rule!"

A group of ragged Sparrows suddenly burst in from outside, brandishing their swords, seeking to seize the opportunity to kill Viserys.

The High Sparrow, unlike Viserys, was merely a highly enlightened commoner. He hadn't even noticed these people encircling the cottage, suddenly launching an assault on the king. He was both shocked and angry.

"Stop!"

"Halt!"

Viserys had once faced the Night King alone—how could mere mortals kill him?

The High Sparrow had wanted to persuade the king of the Seven Kingdoms to accept his ideology through reasoned arguments.

But it was now too late to stop them.

Whooosh~

Viserys sat unmoving, and behind him, a dark mist suddenly materialized into two large hands that gripped the two leading rioters, lifting them high.

The dark mist hands clamped down, causing them to emit agonized screams. The mist sucked away their souls and lives, reducing them instantly to ash.

"Fools seeking death."

The young man's violet eyes flickered, turning to the others. The remaining rioters hesitated, not yet comprehending what had occurred.

However, at that moment, one of the rioters, as if mad, swung his axe at a companion, decapitating him.

The surrounding Sparrows also began attacking each other.

"Sandor!"

"What are you doing?"

Witnessing the scene, the High Sparrow was both shocked and furious. He didn't know what had happened—why had these devout followers suddenly begun killing each other?

Chapter 561: The Death of the High Sparrow

Before the High Sparrow could comprehend the situation, a sword swiftly pierced his heart from behind. A face twisted with hatred stared at him, a follower who once ardently supported him. The same venomous gaze that had previously been directed at Viserys. The assailant shouted repeatedly, "I killed him! I killed him!"

A fierce skirmish erupted within the estate outside the King's Landing.

Viserys, who should have been in the midst of the chaos, had vanished without a trace.

...

News of the arrest of the rebels in King's Landing spread like wildfire. Through rumors, people learned of a monk, devoted in faith, known for his integrity and righteousness. Many believed he embodied the ideals of a monk far more than any, including the Archmaiden, in the Great Sept of Baelor. There were even rumors of the Archmaiden frequenting luxurious establishments in King's Landing. His lavish spending was a topic of discontent among the residents.

Though many had high hopes for the High Sparrow, none dared to publicly support him, especially after the city was recently cleansed of his followers by the internal spies and city guards. The bloodshed was so immense that the streets flowed red, bodies lay everywhere, and many cheered for the sight.

The true followers of the Seven could only silently pray that the High Sparrow would somehow escape and rectify the corruption within the church. However, their prayers seemed in vain as there was no divine intervention for the High Sparrow. News of his death spread across King's Landing the next day. His body was found outside the city, in a luxurious estate, contradicting his public image of humility and service.

Furthermore, the High Sparrow's death was attributed to an internal dispute within his religious faction, seemingly over unequal distribution of benefits. The grand estate's existence was undeniable, leading to much disappointment among his followers.

The once revered High Sparrow's reputation plummeted, deepening people's disillusionment with the church. As the capital of the Seven Kingdoms, King's Landing's political landscape is constantly shifting. If the High Sparrow had refrained from meddling in the affairs of the Targaryen royal family, he might have been spared such a swift downfall.

Issues of royal succession are always delicate, and the High Sparrow's misstep led to his inevitable demise.

The aftermath of his death in King's Landing had not yet settled when Ramsay began searching for the noble friends who had once supported the High Sparrow.

"Open the door!"

The spies of the interior ministry, like vengeful spirits, broke into many grand estates, arresting their owners without a proper trial. In their eyes, the king's word was law.

Ramsay Snow, known for his brutal interrogation methods, led the questioning. His cruel tactics often broke the prisoners quickly. After his interrogations, many more were implicated, even pointing to a free trade city-state overseas. However, it wasn't Braavos, which had become cautious after a previous incident with Viserys.

King's Landing was engulfed in turmoil.

Elsewhere, the last holdout against the Iron Throne, the Vale's nobles, formed an alliance and, under the leadership of Jon Royce, attacked Gulltown. The news of defeats elsewhere dampened their spirits, and internal strife began to erupt. Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger, saw this as an opportunity and played on the divisions among them.

Jon Royce, initially a staunch opponent of the Iron Throne, wavered and considered negotiating a favorable position for himself. Holding the old duke's widow and son gave him leverage to legitimately claim the Eyrie.

Yet, there were many with similar ambitions.

Only the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, stood firm, desiring to avenge his elder brother.

However, an unexpected incident occurred.

Chapter 562: Escalating Tensions

The armies of the Vale encircled Seagull Town. Deep into the night, within the tents of the Rune Stone troops:

"Lord Yohn Royce."

The young Duchess of the Eyrie, though showing signs of fatigue and pallor, forced a smile.

Much of her demeanor resulted from the coercion of her lover, Petyr, who constantly instilled in her the idea of submission. Fueled by love, Lysa Tully abandoned her own thoughts, dedicating herself entirely to the promising future he painted for her.

In Petyr's vision, he would one day rule the Vale, and Lysa would marry her true love.

Even if it meant enduring the embrace of other men or even more degrading acts, she was reassured by Petyr's promises. He convinced her that her current sufferings were fleeting and that a brighter future awaited her, where she would become the true Lady of the Eyrie.

Thus, Lysa, tears glistening in her eyes, seduced Yohn Royce into her bed.

Lord Royce was far from the honorable man he presented to the world.

He once forced a handsome young man to marry his robust daughter simply because she fancied him. This also allowed Lord Royce to seize control of the young man's family assets.

Moreover, he had pursued Lady Lysa before, and they had shared intimate moments at the Eyrie.

Lord Royce had no reason to suspect anything amiss.

...

Elsewhere, under the shroud of night, the campfires of the Justiciars Alliance banished the darkness.

"Reconsider, Lord Brynden Tully," urged Littlefinger, elegantly dressed and polite as ever.

Standing beside him was 'Blackfish' Brynden Tully, his face stern.

He didn't particularly like Littlefinger, but out of basic courtesy, he gave a slight nod.

"Understood, Lord Petyr."

Unperturbed by the Blackfish's evident impatience, Littlefinger simply smiled.

"In that case," he began, "my lord."

With a polite nod, he and his attendants took their leave.

As Littlefinger disappeared into the darkness, the Blackfish watched with a growing sense of unease.

There was something in Petyr's words that he couldn't quite place.

It was clear that Brynden Tully had grown to dislike this man over the years.

Once, when Petyr was a ward at Riverrun, the Blackfish had seen him as a clever and charming boy, even treating him as a kin.

However, that same ward defiled the Tully sisters, including Lysa, and even audaciously proposed to Catelyn Tully, claiming he had taken her virginity as well.

How could a mere ward from a minor family in the Fingers dare to lay claim to both Tully sisters?

Lord Hoster Tully was understandably enraged. He banished Littlefinger from Riverrun, later securing a marriage for his daughter Lysa with Jon Arryn, the noble Lord of the Vale.

The Blackfish, at odds with his own brother at the time, escorted his niece to the Vale, pledging his loyalty to Jon Arryn and becoming a Knight of the Bloody Gate.

His affection for his niece was evident, and he naturally despised Littlefinger for his transgressions.

"Hmph," he muttered, dismissing the thoughts. Pressing his hand against the hilt of his sword, he headed into the camp.

The Vale's camp was organized by families, each distinct and separate, in stark contrast to the unified camp of the Targaryen army.

As the Knight of the Bloody Gate, the Blackfish didn't have many soldiers under his command. However, before Lannister's death, he had borrowed a few thousand men from Riverrun. This elevated his position in the Vale army, second only to Lord Yohn Royce.

But as the Blackfish entered the camp, he noticed that there was no light coming from his niece's tent.

"Where's Lysa?" he inquired, "Has she retired for the night?"

The shocking response from Lysa's handmaiden was unexpected.

"My lord, Lady Lysa has been taken by Lord Yohn Royce."

"What?!"

He remembered Lysa's tearful accounts of her ordeals with the nobles of the Vale, especially Lord Royce, during their time at the Eyrie.

His anger flared. He had nearly drawn his sword against these nobles back then. Now, in such a short time, their audacious advances were resurfacing.

"Damned scoundrel!"

The Blackfish's fury was evident as he rallied his guards, marching determinedly towards the Runestone army's camp.

Still, he maintained his restraint, bringing only a handful of guards to avoid causing internal strife.

He didn't solely rely on the maid's words, but at the moment, rescuing his niece was paramount.

The guards at the Runestone camp recognized the Blackfish, the deputy leader of the entire army, and allowed him passage. Only when he reached Lord Royce's tent did they attempt to halt him.

"Stand aside!" he ordered, shoving them away.

Chapter 563: Strife within The Vale

Immediately, he burst into the tent of the Count of Rune Stone.

Inside, he found a muscular, still-vigorous Lord Yohn Royce, stripped bare, atop his own niece, Lysa Tully.

Lysa's dress was torn to shreds, her eyes red as though she'd just cried.

"Damn you, old cur!"

Seeing this, Brynden Tully's eyes flamed with anger. The restraint he'd practiced earlier shattered, and with a sharp sound, he drew his sword.

Equally shocked, Yohn Royce hadn't anticipated Brynden Tully's sudden intrusion into his tent.

In truth, Lysa hadn't been abducted by Yohn; she had come on her own. Lord Royce wouldn't be so foolish as to forcibly take Lady Lysa at such a time.

Furthermore, Lady Lysa had expressed her desire to find a guardian for her son, Robin Arryn. After much contemplation, she felt Lord Yohn Royce was the most trustworthy.

As the leader of the Alliance of the Righteous, wielding the mightiest army in the Vale, Yohn had no reason to doubt Lysa's decision. He genuinely felt he was her best choice.

He naively believed Lysa had chosen him, and as a result, was lured into her trap. One thing led to another, and they ended up together in bed.

But Yohn hadn't expected Brynden Tully to arrive at such a pivotal moment. Startled, he hastened to explain.

"Lord Brynden Tully, there's been a misunderstanding."

He felt like he'd been duped.

However, in his fury, Brynden could no longer hold back.

With a swift motion, the Blackfish plunged his sword into the heart of the Count of Rune Stone. Blood flowed immediately.

"You!"

Devoid of his enchanted bronze armor, Yohn Royce was defenseless against Brynden's blade.

His eyes widened, seemingly not expecting Brynden to actually strike.

"It was you."

As his life waned, Yohn finally realized something. Struggling, he turned his accusing gaze to Lysa, who was just beneath him moments ago.

He tried to utter some words, but blood choked his voice. The corpulent body, covered in chest hair, fell lifelessly onto the bed.

Brynden Tully, having acted in a fit of rage, seemed to regain his composure after delivering the fatal blow.

"Damn!"

He cursed under his breath. The damage was done; the man was dead by his hand.

Holding his blood-streaked sword, he looked at Yohn's bulky corpse and clenched his teeth.

"Lysa!"

"Quickly, get dressed!"

He hastily instructed his niece to dress, then rallied his men to fight their way out.

"Brothers, we must fight our way out!"

Although they were in the Vale's encampment, they were in the heart of the Rune Stone army, all of whom were foes.

Now, they had to carve a path of blood, rendezvous with their main forces, and then gather all the nobles of the Vale to explain the situation.

Brynden Tully's thoughts raced as he devised a plan.

Lysa, on the bed, scrambled to put on some clothing, trying to ignore the body beside her with its eyes still glaring accusingly.

However, their intrusion into the Count's tent had drawn attention.

The soldiers of Rune Stone quickly surrounded the tent. Brynden's men, visibly tense, drew their swords in readiness.

"Halt!"

They were outnumbered, and more Rune Stone soldiers kept arriving.

"What's happening?"

"Why the commotion?"

At that moment, the heir of Rune Stone, Andar Royce, Yohn's eldest son, rushed over. Seeing the crowd, he feared for his father's safety.

"Move!"

Andar, unsuspecting, pushed through the soldiers and entered the tent.

Inside, he found Brynden Tully with a bloodied sword, a barely clothed Lysa, and the ignoble corpse of his father.

"What...?"

It took a moment for the reality to sink in. Realization dawned, and with a mix of horror and rage, he drew his sword.

"Brynden Tully! You murdered my father?!"

But before any more could transpire, one of Brynden's men acted swiftly.

"Die!"

In a flash, the soldier beheaded Andar Royce.

His head rolled, blood spraying, staining the tent's canvas.

Lysa, unaccustomed to such brutality, screamed in terror.

The entire sequence was over in the blink of an eye.

With Brynden killing Yohn Royce and his soldier executing the heir, the encampment was in chaos.

"Revenge for our Lord!"

The Royce soldiers attacked, while Brynden's men defended fiercely.

Brynden's camp was not far, and as word spread, more soldiers from the Stormlands, unwilling to see their brethren bullied, joined the fray.

"Attack!"

The entire Vale encampment erupted into chaos, cries of battle echoing.

Chapter 564: The Mantis Stalks the Cicada, Unaware of the Oriole Behind

Clang!

Swords clashed violently.

"Die!"

Brynden Tully's voice was raspy, his face showing signs of wear and tear. Seizing an opportunity, he took down a Royce soldier with a single blow.

Thud!

He then staggered and thrust his sword into another enemy's chest, blood spattering. His gray hair now stained with the splatter.

Huff... Huff...

Sir Blackfish gasped for breath. Despite his remarkable sword skills and bravery, he was outnumbered. Soldiers around him continued to fall, making the situation increasingly dire.

Robar Royce, the second son of the Royce family, stepped forward, taking command after the death of his father and elder brother. He led the troops, surrounding the camp and seeking revenge for his father.

"Attack!"

The camp was filled with battle cries.

However, just as the situation reached its peak, a thunderous sound of galloping hooves echoed from outside the chaotic battlefield.

Roaring sounds

Cavalry charged, their hooves pounding the ground. Numerous knights from the Vale, led by Petyr Baelish, brandished their spears and charged into the fray.

It turned out that Littlefinger had secretly persuaded several noble families to turn against the Targaryens. The Targaryen army had already conquered all lands except for the North and the Vale. Resistance was futile.

While the Vale had its mountainous terrain and breathtaking views, it couldn't stop the dragons from flying overhead, even defecating on them.

The Westerlands, with terrain similar to the Vale, had already succumbed to the dragon's fire. The Lannister family was nearly eradicated, with even the golden-haired, green-eyed inhabitants of Lannisport being almost entirely wiped out.

Nobles from the Vale didn't want to lose their power but valued their lives and those of their families even more. Some showed signs of surrender but faced opposition from the pro-war nobles. Littlefinger managed to persuade these nobles to join his side.

He revealed his allegiance to the Iron Throne, claiming he had secretly joined the new king two years ago in Pentos. If they followed his lead, they'd receive the king's pardon.

First, Petyr sent his lover, Lysa Tully, to sow discord between two major leaders in the Vale: Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone and the Knight of the Bloody Gate, Brynden Tully.

Their mutual destruction would allow Littlefinger's forces to easily sweep in and seize control, proving his worth to the king.

Now, as expected, Brynden Tully and the Royce family were at each other's throats. Littlefinger led his forces into the fray, crushing both sides with ease.

"Knights of the Vale, heed my call!"

Dressed impeccably, Petyr Baelish's black cloak fluttered in the wind. His cloak was pinned by a metal mockingbird brooch, a personal modification to his family's sigil. He felt the mockingbird better represented his identity. He wore deer leather gloves.

Removing his glove and placing it on the saddle, he pointed forward and declared, "For the Iron Throne, quell this rebellion!"

The Vale knights cheered in response, then charged with vigor.

"Attack!"

Roaring sounds

Hooves pounded, horses neighed, and the cries of soldiers filled the air. Metallic sounds of blades cutting through flesh echoed. Both sides were caught off guard by this third-party intervention.

"What's going on?!"

Robar Royce, atop his steed, observed the Vale knights, led by Littlefinger, pouring into the battlefield like a tidal wave. They were indiscriminately slaughtering everyone in sight.

"It's Lord Petyr Baelish!"

A sharp-eyed guard spotted Littlefinger at the center of it all.

"Littlefinger?"

"Why can he command such a force from the Vale?"

But no one could explain to Robar how Littlefinger had silently gained the support of most nobles. The internal strife had already deteriorated with the Vale knights' involvement. The Royce soldiers were suffering heavy casualties.

"My Lord! We must flee!"

A loyal guard urged. Biting his lip, Robar gave Littlefinger one last glance and, under the protection of his guards, fled the battlefield towards his ancestral home, Runestone.

On the other side, Brynden Tully was not faring well either.

Trapped and surrounded by Runestone soldiers, he was wounded. Just when it seemed he would fall, a voice called out.

"Lord Brynden!"

Littlefinger, having once been fostered at Riverrun and treating all Tully children kindly, rushed over to support Brynden. Without the past events at Riverrun, he would've still addressed Brynden as 'uncle'.

Seeing that Littlefinger claimed to be there to rescue Sir Blackfish, the remaining Tully loyalists, though wary, lowered their weapons. After all, the Vale knights had already taken control, and any resistance would be a death wish.

"Petyr..."

Brynden, gravely injured, gasped for breath. He held onto his sword with one hand and grasped Littlefinger's hand with the other. Memories of their time in Riverrun flooded back. Now, with Littlefinger coming to his aid, Brynden felt a glimmer of warmth in his heart.

Chapter 565: The Arrival

"Petyr!"

At that very moment, Lady Lysa, who had been hiding inside the tent and thus narrowly escaping the skirmish, emerged. She was wearing a man's loose robe, running barefoot with disheveled hair, her face streaked with tears and mucus.

She rushed to Petyr Baelish, hugging him tightly, nearly knocking her heavily wounded uncle off his feet.

"Petyr! You're finally here! I thought you had abandoned me!"

Her tears flowed freely, a mix of sorrow and relief. Petyr had arrived later than they'd agreed upon. She had feared that he had considered her expendable, just another pawn in his game, leaving her and her uncle to their fate. But now that he had arrived, all her previous doubts vanished, replaced by visions of a happy future.

"Lysa..."

Yet as Petyr held the trembling woman in his embrace, a barely perceptible hint of disgust flashed in his eyes. Lady Lysa's initial words had unintentionally exposed Petyr's devious machinations to everyone present. Now, he could feel the skeptical gazes from those behind him.

"Enough, Lysa. Hush," he murmured, comforting her with the gentle tone of a doting husband, "My dear, foolish woman."

Pulling away, Petyr turned to his attendants, his black cloak billowing in the wind. "This is no place to linger. See to Lady Lysa's safety, and ensure Lord Robin Arryn is protected as well."

"As you command, my lord."

The Vale knights, clad in armor, hastened to obey, escorting Lady Lysa away from the chaotic battlefield.

Yet as Petyr turned to face Brynden Tully, he could feel the burning gaze of the Blackfish, whose suspicions had been stoked by Lysa's outburst. The treacherous plot Petyr and Lysa had devised was now laid bare for all to see: the intentional internal discord sown among the Vale nobility, the divide between Brynden and Jon Arryn, and Petyr's timely arrival to sweep up the remnants, solidifying his grip on the Vale's power.

However, Brynden Tully, though stubborn, was no fool. He knew when to hold his tongue, especially given the precarious situation.

"Maester Colemon!" Petyr called out, ignoring Brynden's furious glares. "Lord Tully is gravely injured. We need your aid."

Maester Colemon, a younger maester with sparse hair serving the Eyrie, approached. He had been close to Jon Arryn, treating him almost as a son. But now, his allegiance lay with Lady Lysa, and by extension, Petyr.

"Of course, my lord," Colemon replied, moving to attend to the wounded Blackfish.

But as the dust of battle began to settle and the situation stabilized, a thunderous roar echoed from above, causing everyone to look skyward.

"What's that sound?"

The knights of the Vale, already on edge, grew restless. Many looked up, shielding their eyes from the sun's glare, trying to discern the source of the noise.

"That's..."

Petyr's keen eyes narrowed as he identified the shape in the distance. A dragon, its wings spread wide, approached with alarming speed.

"A dragon!"

The earth trembled as Balerion, the mighty black dragon, descended from the sky, its roar deafening. Panic ensued among the soldiers, many of whom had never witnessed such a creature before. Some even considered dropping their weapons to flee into the mountains, momentarily forgetting their recent surrender to the Iron Throne.

However, Balerion made no move to attack. Instead, the dragon landed gracefully, letting out another booming roar. Upon its back sat a rider, and Petyr immediately recognized the significance. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee in submission.

"Your Grace! Welcome to your loyal Vale."

Petyr's sudden display of fealty served as a cue for the others. One by one, the knights and nobles of the Vale dismounted and knelt, their armor clinking in unison.

"All hail the King!"

Chapter 566: The Lord of the Vale

Viserys rode atop his dragon, gazing down at the mass of Vale knights prostrate before him. His countenance was serene.

He had foreseen this scene, knowing that Littlefinger's strategy of "driving the tiger to swallow the wolf" had succeeded. Thus, he hastened here from King's Landing.

"Petyr Baelish."

Below, at the forefront of the crowd, Littlefinger stiffened upon hearing Viserys's voice. Tension rippled beneath his dark cloak.

"Your Grace."

All his efforts, all his sacrifices, were for this moment – to rise from a man mockingly called 'Littlefinger' to the esteemed Lord Petyr Baelish.

He still recalled the shock and disdain on Lord Hoster's face when he proposed to Catelyn. Even the red-haired girl he cherished looked at him in disbelief.

Who could possibly marry into the Tully family?

Catelyn's first fiancé had been Brandon Stark, heir to Winterfell. After Brandon's fiery death at the Mad King's hands, she married his younger brother, Eddard, the future Lord of Winterfell.

Littlefinger had never been in Catelyn's sights. Their statuses were worlds apart.

Yet, in a sense, Littlefinger's journey was inspirational. Rising from an unnoticed "worm" to a figure those who once looked down on him now revered.

Now was the pivotal moment of his life. Petyr Baelish knelt before the dragon, his heart racing, his breath quickening.

"You've fulfilled your promise to me."

Above, a light voice floated down, "The Vale is yours."

His heart, which had soared, landed back to earth. Lord Baelish exhaled deeply.

Only now did he realize how much he'd been sweating, his mind slightly foggy, clenching handfuls of soil.

Drawing a deep breath, Littlefinger shifted from one knee to both, deeply bowing his head.

"Thank you for your grace!"

The Vale finally united peacefully under the throne. All Seven Kingdoms, except the North, fell under the Iron Throne's rule. No voice dared to openly defy.

Fun fact: Petyr Baelish was the first governor to be canonized in the kingdom.

To many's surprise, those who fought alongside Viserys hadn't yet been ennobled. With no confidants in the Vale's army, unlike other conquests, the Targaryen forces hadn't attacked the Vale but had taken Gulltown by sea. The Vale surrendered on its own. Hence, Viserys needed a competent, trustworthy person like Littlefinger, reminiscent of Euron Greyjoy in nature.

Viserys's trust was unwavering. Both parties understood each other clearly.

King Viserys I, atop his dragon, arrived in the Vale. The Vale's soldiers surrendered, led by the future Lord of the Vale, Petyr Baelish. This moment was captured by a noble artist, becoming an iconic painting.

While Viserys verbally granted Lordship of the Vale to Littlefinger, the specifics awaited the new regime's policies and laws, to be proclaimed by envoys from King's Landing.

The Vale's army besieging Gulltown surrendered, while inside, the Targaryen army opened its gates.

The sight of the dragon's descent was undeniable. Many Targaryen soldiers witnessed it.

Although they'd seen unrest in the Vale's camp, the cautious General Jeffrey Bracken feared ambushes and refrained from intervening. Only when the dragon landed did they open their gates.

"Your Grace."

Horse hooves echoed. The elderly general, his hair white as snow, approached Viserys and dismounted.

"Congratulations on reclaiming the Vale."

Gazing at the silver-haired young king, General Jeffrey Bracken felt a wave of nostalgia. He had watched Viserys grow every step of the way.

Starting from the boy's bold suggestions that saved Dragonstone's fleet from the greatest storm in history, destroying the usurper's fleet.

Jeffrey's respect for the boy began then. Later, at eight, Viserys discreetly visited Braavos, securing a vital agreement. Viserys overcame countless obstacles, finally reclaiming the Iron Throne, uniting the Seven Kingdoms, and defeating all foes.

"General Jeffrey, you've worked hard."

Viserys's eyes softened. He personally assisted the old general down from his horse.

General Jeffrey's contributions were invaluable in Viserys's rise. As the heir to Stone Hedge, due to a twist of fate, he killed the Lord of House Blackwood in broad daylight at King's Landing. Fleeing the wrath of King Jaehaerys II, he escaped to Essos.

Viserys once asked Jeffrey whether he desired Twin Rivers or Stone Hedge. The once-great House Frey of Twin Rivers had been decimated in the war, while Stone Hedge was his childhood home.

After much contemplation, Jeffrey chose Twin Rivers, leaving Stone Hedge to his niece, Barbara, daughter of the previous Lord Janos Bracken. Once the war ended, he planned to head to Twin Rivers with his retinue.

"Your Grace."

As General Jeffrey and Viserys conversed, the general's son, Hendry Bracken, approached. The vibrant young man greeted the king. Once Jeffrey's illegitimate child, he was legitimized by Viserys and became the heir to Twin Rivers, changing his destiny forever.

Chapter 567: Back from the Brink of Death

Life doles out fortunes unequally. Hendry was originally just a lowly-born bastard, with a scheming uncle always eager to send him to his death on the battlefield. But fate intervened dramatically when his long-lost father reappeared, astonishingly now a powerful minister serving a king. Hendry's status was elevated overnight, and he was courted by influential figures, including Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King from the previous regime. Even now, Hendry was still reeling from the whirlwind changes.

Viserys didn't linger at Seagull Town but instead flew directly to the Eyrie. The Eyrie's soldiers seemed to have been prepared for the dragon's arrival. They were war-weary from incessant conflicts and readily surrendered when Baelorion appeared, even before news of the Vale army's surrender had arrived.

War is like that; it starts difficult but becomes smoother over time. Initially, the Targaryen forces faced staunch resistance, such as from the Westerlands and the siege at Bronzegate in the Stormlands. But as time went on, many regions surrendered upon merely seeing the Targaryen banner of the three-headed dragon, offering no resistance at all.

When Viserys descended upon the Eyrie, he subdued the magnificent castle. A few days later, the Vale army returned. Lyn Corbray, wielding the Valyrian steel weapon "Lady Forlorn," volunteered to lead an attack on Runestone under Petyr Baelish's banner. He vowed not to rest until he had taken the head of Robar Royce.

As the Vale forces returned, they also brought grim news: the "Blackfish," Ser Brynden Tully, was gravely wounded and near death. Maester Coleman had been struggling to save him, but with little success. Viserys, who was temporarily residing in the Eyrie, paid a personal visit to this future legendary "Marshal of the South."

Upon examining him, Viserys realized that Brynden Tully was not merely injured but poisoned. Viserys employed a secret technique, using dark mist to strengthen Brynden's body and nullify the poison. Viserys had successfully employed this technique several times before, and this time was no exception.

Within the sunlit hall of the Eyrie, the room was packed. Petyr Baelish, the newly appointed Governor of the Vale, was in resplendent attire with a raven brooch on his black cloak. He looked somber, standing in the center of the crowd.

Petyr Baelish had orchestrated the bloodless takeover of the Vale for Viserys, who, in return, had granted him significant powers, making him the first Governor of the Vale in the new dynasty. However, Viserys had intentionally left a loophole: he did not grant the Eyrie to Petyr. While Petyr held substantial powers as the Governor, he did not possess his own castle; he still only had a dilapidated tower on the Fingers. As clever as he was, Petyr realized the precarity of his position. His loyalty to the king was now deeply etched into his very bones.

Lysa Tully, on the other hand, clung to her fiancé's arm, her face etched with sorrow as she looked at her dying uncle. She was the most genuinely distressed in the room. With her family's downfall and her father's death, the loss of her uncle would leave her utterly defenseless.

The hall was deathly silent. Viserys, in his brocaded robes, stood at the forefront. As he laid his hands on Brynden Tully's forehead, nobody saw the dark mist enter the knight's body, only the slight trembling that followed.

Petyr Baelish, standing at the forefront of the crowd, had an uneasy premonition. "What is His Majesty doing?" whispered the Vale nobles among themselves, puzzled by Viserys' actions.

Just then, Brynden Tully's body trembled violently, and he suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood. Viserys seemed to have anticipated this, stepping aside just in time to avoid the splatter. Brynden Tully, his hair graying, coughed violently, as if trying to expel his very innards.

He felt a warm current swiftly course through his body, strengthening his flesh and bones and dispelling the agony and toxins that had been plaguing him. The hall erupted in astonishment. They had all gathered, partly to honor the king's visit but also to bid farewell to the dying knight. No one expected to witness a resurrection.

Chapter 568: A Life Saved, A Debt Owed

The grievously wounded 'Blackfish,' Brynden Tully, was visibly recovering at an astonishing rate. After coughing up an unnaturally dark pool of blood, he sat up, completely rejuvenated in both body and spirit. It was as if he'd experienced the last burst of vitality before death, yet no one among the nobility had ever seen someone rise from their deathbed so spiritedly.

On the other side, Maester Coleman of the Eyrie looked utterly shocked. "This is impossible," he murmured, his lips trembling. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he hastily made an excuse to leave the Great Hall.

In contrast, Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish and his fiancée Lysa Tully bore opposite expressions upon witnessing Brynden Tully's resurrection. Littlefinger was subtle but visibly shocked, his hand clenched tightly enough to leave a mark. Lysa, however, was beside herself with joy.

"Look, Petyr! The king has saved Uncle!" Lysa exclaimed, gripping her fiancé's arm, oblivious to his uneasy demeanor.

Littlefinger was a man of great resourcefulness. His mind raced to consider the implications and how to adapt to them. Although he wanted to flee like Maester Coleman, he composed himself. "Yes, Lysa," he concurred, "We owe a debt of gratitude to His Majesty for saving your uncle's life."

Turning to the nobles of the Vale around him, he began to loudly proclaim, "Behold the power of our king! He has led us through the darkest of times. And he will lead us to overcome whatever challenges lie ahead!"

The opportunistic nobles seized the moment to heap praises upon King Viserys, filling the Great Hall with a cacophony of flattery.

Standing at the center of the room, King Viserys remained stoic. His eyes met Brynden Tully's, who still seemed a bit disoriented. The Blackfish knew he had been poisoned, but had been powerless to communicate it, making his recent rescue feel like a miracle.

Brynden looked at Viserys, a complex mix of emotions filling his eyes. In theory, he should seek vengeance for the death of his brother Hoster Tully. He had indeed made several attempts to resist Viserys but never thought he would owe his life to him.

Yet, the Blackfish was a man of clear-cut values. He owed Viserys a life debt, akin to owing one's parents for the gift of life. He rose and knelt before Viserys, pledging, "Your Majesty, you've saved my life. I owe you a debt I cannot repay."

Viserys accepted his fealty, gaining an experienced general. Lysa rushed to embrace her uncle, who did not resist. However, his eyes remained fixed on Littlefinger, whose apparent calm didn't fool him. The tension between the two men was palpable, unspoken but understood. The Blackfish also felt deeply disappointed by his niece Lysa, who had wounded him beyond repair.

Viserys dispatched Brynden to King's Landing to await further orders. His strategic acumen and leadership skills promised him a bright future in the king's military. So, the Blackfish departed from the Eyrie for King's Landing.

In another turn of events, Joffrey Bracken and his son led two hundred soldiers on their way to Riverrun.

Chapter 569: Greywater Watch

At the Twins, the future capital of the Riverlands and the stronghold of House Bracken.

Viserys had long made up his mind. The title of Lord Paramount of the Trident was reserved for the old general.

Therefore, Jeffrey Bracken and his son, Hendly, came ahead of time to inspect the state of the Twins. They examined the extent of the castle's damage and the estimated costs for repairs.

Viserys assured him that if there were insufficient funds, they could draw from the royal treasury in advance. Having confiscated the vast wealth from the Tyrell vaults in Highgarden, Viserys was certainly not lacking in funds now.

The Twins, as a crucial transportation hub, would be vital in the future for supplying the armies during their northern campaigns.

Considering the strategic importance of the Twins, Viserys felt reassured in entrusting its stewardship to someone he had full confidence in.

His next stop was the North. But riding his dragon, Balerion, Viserys would certainly reach his destination much faster than Lord Jeffrey and his entourage.

His ultimate goal, following the unification of the Seven Kingdoms, was the reclamation of lost lands and confronting the common enemy of all mankind. He remembered Melisandre's warning: in five years, the White Walkers would return.

Although he had absorbed the power of the Old Gods and had somewhat been influenced by it, Viserys' strong will prevented him from being fully consumed by it.

Now, riding Balerion, Viserys arrived at the Neck by the afternoon. The ruins of the previous war were still evident. The devastation left by the explosion on the causeway was still unrepaired, largely due to the ongoing civil strife and the huge reconstruction efforts it demanded.

Walking alone on the frosty causeway of the Neck, Viserys' steps made soft crunching sounds on the thin layer of snow. The once teeming marshes, with its monstrous lizard-lions and poisonous creatures, were now eerily quiet and desolate. The aftermath of the devastation lingered.

Suddenly, from his aerial vantage, he spotted a concealed castle amidst the frozen marshes.

"Is this..."

"A castle within the Neck?"

He realized, "It's the ancestral seat of House Reed, Greywater Watch."

Known to be built on a floating island within the swamp, Greywater Watch was a place so elusive that even ravens could not find it. All throughout history, from the Andals to the Ironborn, from House Frey to various other invaders, none could locate this enigmatic stronghold.

Yet, by sheer chance, Viserys had stumbled upon it.

Landing Balerion just outside the castle, Viserys gazed at the fortress, seamlessly blending with the swampy surroundings. The castle, covered in moss and creeping vines, had no towers, just a keep. It didn't need walls; the treacherous swamps around it served as its natural defense.

Stepping inside Greywater Watch, Viserys was ready to unravel its mysteries.

Chapter 570: Howland Reed

Flakes of snow drifted down, accumulating atop the collapsed roof of Greywater Watch. The ground was covered with a thick layer of snow.

Crunch...

Viserys's footsteps echoed as he pushed open the dilapidated main gate and stepped into the abandoned castle.

There was no sudden ambush by wights this time. It appeared that without the Night King's power, even the wights could not traverse the treacherous swamps of the Neck.

Yet, only moments after entering, Viserys paused, glancing around.

"Hmm?"

In a conspicuous spot within the castle, a hint of life was evident. Green vines, sprouting fresh leaves, wrapped around something that seemed to sway ever so slightly. On closer inspection, it looked as if a body hung from a beam.

"That's impossible."

Viserys frowned. He'd been wandering the Neck for quite some time and hadn't seen any signs of life.

Yet, here was a vivid display of vitality, reminiscent of early spring. As he approached and brushed aside the vines, they revealed a body that seemed to have been hanging for a long time.

"Is this..."

He pondered, recalling a tale. When the humans had hoped to use the Neck as a barrier against the White Walkers, the Crannogmen, the marshland dwellers, had played a significant role. Unfortunately, they had failed. Most of the Crannogmen died in the Neck, including their leader, the mysterious Howland Reed of House Reed. It was said he had hanged himself in his castle, and no one knew why.

But that story was over a year old. If this was Howland Reed, why was his body still hanging? It should have fallen long ago due to the decay of flesh or the snap of the rope.

Was he defying gravity?

Viserys, now deeply intrigued, neared the body and was about to touch it to glean insights from its past. But just before his fingers made contact...

"Hmm?"

He abruptly pulled back.

Boom...

The beam from which the body hung gave way. The body crashed to the ground, landing with a thud, followed by a pained groan.

"Damn it!"

The body, now showing signs of life, rubbed its backside. The frost on its face began to melt, revealing a face that regained its color. The man sat up, looked at Viserys, and seemed to recognize the Targaryen features.

"You're the Crannogmen's leader, Howland Reed?" Viserys asked coolly.

Howland, recognizing the silver-haired youth with the dragon outside, hesitated before nodding. "I am."

But before Howland could say more, Viserys swiftly grabbed his shoulder. The world around them changed instantly.

Woosh...

Time seemed to rewind. The ruined castle was now whole, its dim candlelight flickering. A letter bearing a request for aid lay on a table, signed by Eddard Stark, the Duke of Winterfell. Inside the castle were a slender, brunette girl and a thin boy with deep green eyes. The once hanged man was also present, kneeling and praying before a shield bearing the emblem of a smiling heart tree.

"I've seen it."

The boy with deep green eyes suddenly spoke. The man in front of the shield, presumably Howland, turned his attention to the boy.

"What did you see, Jojen?"

After hearing the boy's revelations, Howland Reed was silent for a long moment. Finally, he dismissed the siblings with a wave of his hand.

Chapter 571: The Magic of the Crannogmen

After his eldest daughter, Meera Reed, and younger son, Jojen Reed, had departed, Howland Reed knelt before the shield adorned with the face of a laughing tree, praying silently for a long while in the flickering candlelight.

He then stood up, re-read the call for aid from the Duke of Winterfell, and began to write a few lines after a moment of contemplation.

The castle within the swamplands was eerily quiet. Alone at the table, Howland seemed to be writing a letter. Once done, he carefully folded the paper, sealed it in an envelope, and left it on the desk.

Then, he fetched a rope and a stool, placing the rope around a beam and standing on the stool, positioning the noose around his neck.

By dawn the following day, a piercing scream broke the silence of Greywater Watch.

Meera, having come in search of her father, discovered him already hanging from the beam. Numerous Crannogmen, including Jojen, rushed to the scene. While many were visibly distraught, Jojen appeared calm, as if he had anticipated this outcome. He shed not a tear, while Meera wept uncontrollably.

Following their father's tragic end, Meera and Jojen found the envelope on his desk. After reading its contents, the young siblings rallied their kin to abandon the Neck, migrate southward, and warned that mankind couldn't fend off the impending invasion of the White Walkers.

While some Crannogmen heeded the siblings' call, many chose to stay, vowing to aid the allied forces against the undead.

All of these events flashed quickly before Viserys's eyes, with Howland Reed himself standing nervously beside him, gazing at his own portrayal.

Even a year ago, just before his hanging, Howland had felt uneasy, sensing an anomaly in his history, much like Bran Stark had once felt near the Weirwood trees.

Both of them possessed innate psychic abilities, making them extremely sensitive to their surroundings.

"Who are you?" Howland asked, clearly taken aback after the temporal journey. His gaze upon Viserys was filled with shock and confusion.

"Why did you hang yourself?" Viserys inquired after a contemplative pause.

"It concerns the magic of the Crannogmen, Your Grace," Howland began, trying to regain his composure. "We were praying to the Heart Tree."

He shared tales of the Crannogmen's ancient customs and myths, particularly their rumored dark magics and their close bond with the Children of the Forest. Both believed in the power of the Weirwood trees, which were central to their magic and strength.

"When Jojen was younger, he contracted the deadly Greyscale fever. A Greenseer saved him, granting him the gift of greensight," Howland explained. This vision foresaw the swamplands frozen and the White Walkers crossing the Neck amidst green flames.

Thus, Howland had left the letter, urging his kin to flee, but many didn't heed his warning post his hanging.

"I prayed to the Heart Tree, hoping to protect our people. In exchange, I hoped to become a part of the Weirwood," Howland revealed, "It's a common pact. Many of the Children of the Forest transform into Weirwood trees at their end."

However, it was evident that his prayers went unanswered, and he didn't become a tree.

"Do you pray to the Heart Tree?" Viserys asked, intrigued.

"Yes. I was once humiliated by knights at the tourney of Harrenhal. Lyanna Stark came to my aid. Using improvised armor and this shield, I defeated those knights, restoring my honor," Howland reminisced, looking at the Weirwood shield with a touch of nostalgia.

Viserys, realizing the truth behind the mystery of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, inquired, "I thought Lyanna stood up for you?"

"No, I reclaimed my honor on my own. The Stark siblings, having witnessed my newfound strength, chose to remain silent. But now, I can no longer sense the Heart Tree," Howland concluded.

After a moment of silence, Howland spoke again, "You're not one of the Old Gods, nor a Greenseer."

Chapter 572: The Power of Faith

The power of the Old Gods is closely related to the number of people who have faith in them and the Weirwood trees.

Howland Reed subsequently invited Viserys to sit on the ground with him. They sat down on the earth together, with Viserys showing no hesitation or concern about getting dirty. The two engaged in deep conversation.

Howland revealed more secrets of the Weirwood trees. He was well aware of the power of the Old Gods within Viserys. The Crannogmen, it seems, have an affinity for the Old Gods' power that is not inferior to the Children of the Forest. They are among the oldest races in Westeros, having always lived in the marshlands.

Howland believed that the waning power of the Old Gods was due to the decreasing number of people worshiping the Weirwood trees. The large-scale felling of these trees also impacted the manifestation of the Old Gods' power. Even crossing the Narrow Sea has become a tremendous challenge, let alone influencing the entire world.

In the past, the Children of the Forest could pray to the Weirwood trees and unleash powerful magic, like severing the Arm of Dorne to prevent the First Men from crossing the sea. But now, even using magic to kill a single individual seemed challenging.

According to Howland's analysis, a new perspective emerged, contrasting that of the Children of the Forest. He believed that Viserys's existence wasn't entirely of the Old Gods or the Greenseers. Instead, he stood between them, a common man who held the power of the Old Gods. However, after another glance at Viserys, Howland mused that perhaps "common" was not the right word.

The leader of the Crannogmen appeared conflicted. While he prayed to the Heart Tree, he could no longer sense its presence. Yet, the person before him undeniably held the power of the Old Gods.

The two continued their conversation. Howland sought insights about the changes in the world, especially after learning that humanity had defeated the White Walkers and that the Targaryen army had unified the Six Kingdoms. He was astounded, as during his 'hanging', Robert Baratheon was still king. However, now Robert was imprisoned.

He then inquired about the whereabouts of his children, Meera and Jojen Reed. Viserys, however, merely shook his head. He had never paid attention to where Meera and Jojen had gone and had never met them. Yet, it was likely they weren't killed in the Allied forces, given their youth. They might still be with their people.

Viserys then humbly asked Howland some questions regarding the Old Gods, the Greenseers, and the Children of the Forest.

Howland's assertion that the power of the Old Gods stems from the Weirwood trees and the number of their worshippers intrigued Viserys. He had hit a bottleneck in his own journey and was looking for ways to break through.

Viserys mused about the power of faith. How does it actually work? Although he was just beginning to explore this realm, through his conversation with the mysterious leader of the Crannogmen, Viserys seemed to gain some understanding.

It appeared that these deities heavily relied on the power of faith but could not easily interfere with the human world. Perhaps they could only offer hints when receiving prayers or at a great cost.

Could this be why the Old Gods did nothing when the First Men extensively chopped down the Weirwood trees?

Viserys, the silver-haired youth, pondered while sitting on the ground.

However, if this was indeed the case, then humans, in some sense, held considerable power over these deities.

Especially human kings, as they could decide which deities their subjects worshiped.

Was this why the Lord of Light reached out to Viserys in the first place?

Though Viserys was powerful, even more so than most in this world, he still had much to learn in certain domains. For instance, he was mortal. If someone were to bury him deep underground or throw him into the vast ocean without any land in sight, he could die.

Of course, all this assumed he was captured, unconscious, and that Baelorion was not by his side.

"So, how do you wish to deal with him?"

Howland then brought up his old friend, Eddard Stark. He wanted to plead for Eddard's mercy but was unsure how to approach the topic. After all, Eddard had once led a rebellion against the Iron Throne. Yet, this was in response to Viserys's father, the Mad King, burning Eddard's father and brother.

"You wish to plead for Eddard?"

Viserys, lost in thought about earlier discussions, looked up to respond. Howland nodded cautiously.

"He's a good man."

"There are many good men in this world."

Viserys replied with a shake of his head.

"He's my close friend."

Howland quickly added, and Viserys, studying his face, nodded, sharing the truth with him.

"Eddard might have a chance to survive. But that would also depend on his choices."

As the sun set, casting a dim light, Viserys prepared to depart. He asked if Howland needed a ride out of the Neck. However, the leader of the Crannogmen declined, expressing that the Neck, though perilous for outsiders, was like home to the Crannogmen.

Having come back to life and not turned into a Weirwood tree, Howland had matters to attend to in Greywater Watch. He assured Viserys that he would arrive in King's Landing before the trial, representing the Crannogmen at this grand event, swearing fealty to the king, and looking for his children.

Chapter 573: The Blood Play Troupe

Having reaped abundant gains, Viserys bade farewell to the chieftain of the Crannogmen. He mounted his dragon, ready to set out for King's Landing.

"Roar—"

Balerion gazed down at Howland Reed, sensing a mysterious magic about him. The dragon, highly sensitive to the presence of magic, could detect that this mysterious 'little one' was quite adept. It unleashed a powerful, deep roar.

Boom—

With a mighty push from its powerful hind legs, the dragon's vast wings sliced through the air, creating a roaring gust. Breaking through the clouds, it soared away from the hidden floating island within the Greywater Watch marshes.

The Crannogman chieftain stood before the castle, watching Viserys leave. The dragon's departure had left him covered in dust and mud, coughing from the gusts of wind and snow.

The journey back from the Neck to King's Landing was long, and while Balerion could fly it in one stretch, it needed to rest and feed. Unfortunately, the Neck was barren, offering no sustenance fitting for a dragon.

Viserys didn't feel the need to rush back to King's Landing. There was nothing urgent awaiting him there. He decided to take a detour, to enjoy the world from above and to relax.

Perhaps he was unfit to be a king. No good king would prefer wandering to staying in his palace.

Sigh—

Once they had left the Neck, the warmth of the southern lands greeted them. Viserys decided to rest in the Twins for the night, contemplating whether to go to Casterly Rock or just head home.

"Roar—"

Suddenly, the dragon unleashed a powerful roar, diving from the sky. Below, a group of strangely dressed, fierce-looking members of the Brotherhood without Banners had taken over the abandoned Twins.

They lit torches to fend off the darkness, flying a flag bearing a black goat. Roughly a hundred in number, they looked diverse, each one seeming tougher than the last.

"Dragon!"

"Damn! It's a dragon!"

"Run!"

The sight of Balerion diving towards them struck terror into the Brotherhood, and they fled in panic, leaving their ill-gotten gains behind.

Viserys felt sorry for startling these rogues, but he had merely stopped by and had no intention of confronting them. However, the gruesome scene they had left behind — severed limbs and heads — was unsettling.

Having witnessed countless battles, Viserys was unfazed by such gore. With a nod from him, Balerion spewed dragonfire, cleansing the place of its filth.

The captives, imprisoned in the stables, looked terrified, except for one young girl with black hair. Her hands showed signs of combat. As the dragon landed, her eyes sparkled with hope.

"Is that... Viserys?"

Elsewhere, the fleeing Brotherhood members whispered among themselves.

"How many dragons are there in this world?"

"That black dragon must be Balerion, which means its rider is Viserys."

To these criminals, a king was an untouchable entity. Yet, here was one, traveling right by their camp.

"How grand he looks!" one murmured.

"What is the king doing outside his Iron Throne?" the Brotherhood's lanky leader with a goatee muttered.

An idea flashed in his eyes. "Imagine the ransom if we were to kidnap the king of the Seven Kingdoms."

Chapter 574: Rescuing the Villagers

The words of Vargo Hoat, the leader of the Brave Companions, stunned everyone present. They had another name that wasn't so flattering: the "Bloody Mummers."

Originating from the continent of Essos, they were notorious. Most of their members were criminals and exiles from various regions. They earned their nickname due to their brutal actions and eccentric attire.

However, the current leader, a tall and lean Qohorik with a goatee and a lisp, proposed a daring idea that made all the criminals present exchange glances.

"You want to target the leader of the human legions?"

An older maester with a hunched back and gray hair narrowed his eyes. He was very cautious. He found Vargo Hoat's idea too audacious. Rumor had it that Viserys had once matched the White Walker leader in strength, though none of them had seen it.

Yet, in the group, the sadistic Septon Utt and the "Mad Clown" Shagwell were eager to try.

They were by nature fearless and reckless, skilled at drawing blood from their enemies. Especially the scenario described by Vargo Hoat excited them to the core.

How audacious was it to kidnap a king? How much ransom could they demand?

Seeing the excitement on the faces of his comrades, the maester who initially wanted to object silenced himself. Associating with madmen and devils was a choice he had to make. Others perceived him as one of them, but he believed he had his wits about him.

Still, despite the bold idea of kidnapping a king, they had to confront an undeniable problem: a terrifying dragon that stood between them and their target.

They had to wait for the dragon to leave Viserys's side before making their move. Otherwise, their small group would be nothing more than a late-night snack for the dragon.

The Bloody Mummers hid in the woods outside of the Twins, waiting for an opportunity to strike at Viserys.

They expected a long wait, but it seemed the gods favored them.

The dragon, massive enough to eclipse the sun, roared deeply. Soon after, under the bright moonlight, it took to the sky, presumably hunting.

In the ruined Twins, only Viserys and the captured villagers remained.

Inside, the handsome silver-haired young man set up a campfire in a clean spot.

The warmth of the fire pushed away the darkness. He could go without food for long periods, but Balerion couldn't. The dragon needed a significant amount of food daily.

Now that they weren't in King's Landing, Balerion had to find his own food. So, Viserys let him roam.

He then untied the villagers confined in the horse pens, cutting their ropes one by one and setting them free.

Many of these villagers were maimed, covered in scars, and on the brink of death. There were women, too, who were either wives or daughters of the villagers.

But war was a game for the nobles. For the commoners, it was a catastrophe. Under its weight, they were easily crushed.

As Viserys cut their bonds, a young girl with chains on her wrists and ankles looked on in awe. She had never seen such a sharp sword.

When he approached her, the slender, long-legged girl extended her hands.

"Thank you," her voice was hoarser than most girls her age.

Her hands bore calluses, like those of someone who wielded a knife for years. It contrasted starkly with her smiling face.

Viserys glanced at her, especially the calluses, and without hesitation, his blade, "Twilight," cut through her chains.

The silver-haired youth then severed the shackles on her feet, setting her completely free.

The girl, who appeared to be around the same age as Viserys, was full of youth and vitality. Her face was smudged, possibly a disguise, and her body bore the stains of battle.

She stretched her limbs, retrieved her curved blade and dagger from a nearby kitchen, and then turned to the silver-haired youth, still freeing others.

"Are you Viserys?" "The King of the Seven Kingdoms?"

Unlike the others, who knelt in gratitude, this girl wearing tattered gray-black armor stained with blood stood by Viserys and inquired.

Her words made the other villagers, who were picking up gold coins, shiver in awe.

Although they had suspected it after seeing the dragon, the title "king" seemed as distant to them as the Bloody Mummers.

Viserys didn't answer. He cut the last villager's ropes, and the man, trembling, knelt in gratitude.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Then, like the others, he scrambled to collect the scattered gold dragons. Some had melted under Balerion's fire and solidified onto the ground, but they didn't mind. They scraped them off and pocketed them.

"Take some coins and leave quickly. Otherwise, you won't be able to escape later," Viserys advised, watching their greed.

"Understood, Your Grace."

His sudden command startled the villagers. Although some were still greedy, wishing to find more treasures left by the bandits, they didn't dare linger.

It was a royal command, after all.

Viserys stood by the fire, holding his blood-red sword. His silvery-gold hair reflected the light. He had the stature and face of a ruler, an undeniable regal aura after reigning for over a decade.

Suppressing their greed, the villagers thanked Viserys once more and left.

Chapter 575: Asha Greyjoy

As he turned, Viserys looked at the girl in black and gray armor following him. Her calm lavender eyes met his, her voice steady, "Why don't you leave?"

Viserys' earlier words had frightened the villagers away, and his intense gaze made even the girl, who had conquered the seas, slightly retract her neck.

But being of fiery temperament, proud and willing to challenge conventions, she retorted, "You haven't answered my question."

But that was an obvious question, and Viserys didn't need to reply.

"Are you from the Iron Islands?"

Clang.

Viserys sheathed his sword, Twilight, then asked. The girl's eyes filled with admiration upon seeing the legendary blade, thinking: What warrior wouldn't desire such a weapon?

"Is that the famous 'Twilight'?"

"Yes."

When she heard Viserys' question, she didn't hide the truth and nodded openly.

"How did you know?"

"Your accent."

"Only Ironborn have that gritty, hoarse voice, as if they're always clearing their throat."

"You..."

The girl choked on her retort, her smile vanished, and she glared at him. The climate of the Iron Islands was responsible for their rough, reddened skin and affected voice. Had anyone else spoken thus, she'd have slashed them. But she could only swallow her anger because of Viserys' status.

She gripped her blade, not responding to Viserys, and looked up at the moonlit night sky, the abandoned castle illuminated by fires.

"You saved my life, Viserys."

"If you hadn't been passing by, those scoundrels would have violated me and slit my throat."

She candidly admitted she'd prepared for the worst. Earlier, she'd led a few men out of the mountains to raid for food but ran into an ambush. Her comrades were killed, and she survived only because the attackers had other intentions for her. But she knew that even if she surrendered herself to them, they'd eventually kill her.

To her surprise, the King of the Seven Kingdoms was not on his Iron Throne but happened to be riding his dragon nearby and rescued her. Yet, she chose to stay by Viserys' side and warned him seriously.

"You shouldn't have let your black dragon leave. Who knows if those damned men will return?"

"I stayed to help you out of gratitude for saving me. Otherwise, regardless of your royal status, I'd have left."

The dragon had suddenly flown away, and she was worried the attackers might return. It would be dangerous for Viserys to be alone, so she decided to stay and warn him.

"Who are you?"

Upon hearing her, Viserys, the silver-haired young man, turned to her and asked. Initially, he didn't pay much attention to her, but her words piqued his interest.

"Asha."

"Asha Greyjoy, daughter of Balon Greyjoy, the Kraken's daughter."

At her response, Viserys raised an eyebrow. He'd heard of her, an esteemed female captain and fleet commander. He thought she'd died on the Iron Islands but was surprised to learn she'd been hiding in the mountains of the Westerlands.

"Where's your father?"

"Dead."

Asha's relationship with her father was strained due to his strict upbringing. After his only son was taken away, Balon placed all his hopes on Asha, treating her like a son. This approach led to her becoming the famed captain of the 'Black Wind,' but at the cost of their relationship.

She then recounted the fall of the Iron Islands, a mystery to most. The undead army unexpectedly appeared behind the united forces, almost annihilating them. King Robert was shot off his horse. If not for Viserys defeating the Night King, the outcome would've been disastrous.

Suddenly, screams echoed from outside the Twins. Some fleeing villagers were killed by members of the Warrior's Band.

"They're here."

Viserys looked sideways.

Upon realizing the dragon was gone, the Blood Theater mercenaries grew bolder. Even their maester couldn't oppose them. They returned, hoping to kidnap Viserys and demand a ransom.

Asha, hearing the commotion, exclaimed, "I knew it! They've returned!"

"Run!"

"Can you call back your dragon?"

Sitting calmly, Viserys shook his head.

"I didn't plan to bother killing them... but if they dare to return, they seek their own doom."

He threw a log into the roaring fire, distorting his silhouette. Another scream, closer this time, and the mercenaries' twisted faces became visible.

"Damn it!"

The fire's glow blurred the view, and Asha drew her curved blade. But, to her shock, a Blood Theater mercenary had just stabbed his own comrade, his face equally brutal.

"Die!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

The remaining mercenaries were horrified, then plunged into infighting, their eyes bloodshot, blood and flesh flying everywhere, right in front of Viserys.

And the silver-haired young man remained seated by the fire, tossing another log into it.

Asha Greyjoy watched in disbelief, trembling slightly.

Chapter 576: Qyburn

The sudden onslaught of the Bloody Mummers came quickly, and it ended just as swiftly.

A girl with short black hair stood wide-eyed, her curved blade held high, as she watched these brutal thugs, faces contorted in fury as if driven by some deep-seated vendetta, battle each other to the death until every last one of them lay defeated.

All but one maester in grey robes, who, due to his inherent caution and a limp, found himself at the rear, managed to escape the massacre. The rest of the Bloody Mummers had inexplicably turned on each other, with none spared.

This fortunate grey-robed maester, having never witnessed such a scene, was paralyzed with fear, collapsing to the ground. Blood from the carnage splattered across his face. Trembling, he leaned against the wall, looking at the silver-haired youth by the campfire with terror, as if beholding a demon.

Asha Greyjoy looked on similarly, her gaze upon Viserys tinged with fear.

"You..."

Everyone present was astute enough to realize that while the Bloody Mummers might be mad, they were not foolish. There was no reason for them to suddenly turn on each other.

Thus, the only plausible explanation was the influence of this enigmatic young dragon lord.

Rumors had spoken of the king's mastery over magic, and it now seemed those tales were more than mere whispers.

At that moment, a roar echoed from the sky beyond the Twin River City. Balerion had just bathed in the Green Fork and had feasted on fish and game.

With a thunderous impact, Balerion descended, the gust from his wings stirring the air. Noting the carnage around, steam billowed from his nostrils. Tilting his head in confusion, he turned to Viserys, wondering what had transpired during his brief absence.

The sight of the dragon's descent further petrified the grey-robed maester, who scurried to a corner, his face dusted with debris from the dragon's landing.

The silver-haired youth, Viserys, remained calm throughout. Dealing with such riffraff hardly warranted his direct intervention.

Stirring the campfire with a stick, he then discarded it and approached the trembling maester, intending to interrogate him.

In truth, Qyburn's survival was no accident. Viserys had deliberately spared him.

Not yet knowing the identity of these attackers, Viserys had simply eliminated them as they presented themselves. He hadn't initially intended to chase these bandits down, considering it a local noble's concern, but they had unwittingly courted their own doom.

As Viserys approached, Qyburn's face drained of all color. Falling to the ground, he begged, "Mercy, Your Grace! Mercy!"

"What is your name?" Viserys inquired.

"Qyburn! Your Grace, I am Qyburn!" The maester's head repeatedly met the ground in a fervent plea, blood smearing his forehead.

Effortlessly dispatching the Bloody Mummers was an unexpected move for Viserys. This renowned mercenary band seemed to crumble easily, their chapter ending silently within the Twin River City. Yet, the gains from this encounter were substantial.

Asha Greyjoy and some of the Ironborn had taken refuge in the Western Hills. They had considered returning to the Iron Islands after the White Walkers' retreat but found their ships damaged. With the onset of civil war and the Riverlands becoming a war zone, all major routes in the Westerlands were strictly sealed. The Ironborn dared not make a move, resorting to occasional raids.

Eventually, when an opportunity to return to the Iron Islands arose, they learned of Euron Greyjoy's takeover. Knowing her uncle, Asha decided against returning and continued to hide, waiting for a chance.

Meeting Viserys was that opportunity. Similarly, her presence was a significant boon for Viserys. Euron had made several requests to retrieve his nephew, Theon, but was consistently denied by Viserys, who recognized Theon as Euron's weakness. Asha held similar value.

Another significant acquisition was Qyburn, one of the most gifted healers in the realm of Ice and Fire. While his methods were unorthodox, their effectiveness was undeniable. Moreover, he had a diverse skill set, dabbling in magic and displaying a knack for innovation.

By dawn the next day, after a night's rest, Viserys embarked on his journey away from Twin River City, not heading to the Westerlands but directly to King's Landing.

Asha Greyjoy, granted permission to join the kingdom separate from her uncle, promptly returned to the mountains to gather the Ironborn loyal to her father. They then headed to King's Landing to assume their new roles.

As for Maester Qyburn, he followed Asha back to the mountains and then returned to King's Landing with the Ironborn, for Viserys had significant plans for him.

Viserys returned to King's Landing atop his mighty dragon.

King's Landing buzzed with activity. The Vale's submission was first relayed through the rivers, followed by the official raven messages. Rhaenys, riding her dragon, reached King's Landing before the Targaryen army, earning the moniker 'Dragon Queen' among the populace.

Daenerys, who had been left in charge of Pentos by Viserys, also made her way to King's Landing on dragonback. Alongside her was the Prime Minister, Jon Connington, and the Minister of Finance, Illyrio Mopatis, arriving by ship.

"Three dragons over King's Landing. When was the last time we witnessed such a spectacle?"

A middle-aged man with auburn hair, wearing the Hand of the King's pin, stood on the walls of the Red Keep, gazing over the city and the dragons overhead, lost in nostalgia.

"Actually, it's eight dragons, Lord Connington," remarked a bald eunuch, his hands tucked into his sleeves. "It feels like a return to our nation's zenith."

Chapter 577: Gathering at King's Landing

Daenerys, in her recent journey to King's Landing, had also brought along the five young dragons living in the Kingswood, ensuring that the incident from last time wouldn't repeat itself. With Viserion away, leaving the young dragons unprotected could spell danger. But in reality, these young dragons, after growing over almost two years, had undergone significant changes.

The largest among them, the red dragon named Vaghar, now spanned eight to nine meters in length, including its tail. Its fiery-red scales resembled a fierce blaze. The dragon's head, now large enough to swallow a sheep whole, looked all the more menacing.

"Young dragons grow quickly," he mused, recalling how Balerion had grown fifteen meters in just a year, while his siblings only five or six meters. Vaghar, the eldest of the young dragons, even seemed more promising than Rhaegal and Viserion.

"Robert was reckless and depleted the royal treasury, plunging us millions of golden dragons in debt. I thought the realm was lost, but hope came surprisingly quickly," Varys remarked subtly, exchanging a glance with Illyrio as the latter approached.

"Lord Varys," Jon Connington greeted, unaware of the fleeting exchange between the two. "It's been a while."

Indeed, they had once been colleagues, both serving the 'Mad King' Aerys II. Connington, as the King's Hand, was a powerful figure back in the day, known for his youthful ambition. However, now he appeared as a disheveled middle-aged man, with a messy red beard and a simple attire. If not for the pin of the Hand on his chest, he might be mistaken for a commoner or a sellsword.

Varys, recalling the past, said, "If only the Mad King had heeded my advice that day, perhaps he wouldn't have met his end by a Kingslayer."

Their conversation meandered, touching on the nation's current state, the dragons, and the intrigues of King's Landing. The two eventually parted ways, with Varys warning Illyrio about the challenges they now faced from within the Red Keep, especially from the 'bastard of the North.'

On the towering Maegor's Holdfast of the Red Keep, Viserys held a girl who had leapt into his arms, spinning her around in joy. "I've missed you, sister," he whispered.

It had been a long time since he'd seen young Daenerys. Now, she was in King's Landing for a grand ceremony – the nation's unification and the trials of the remnants of the previous reign.

"My husband," Ellaria Sand whispered, sitting gracefully in an elegant gown. Known as the Queen of Dorne, she had the perfect figure with an exotic charm, looking all the more ethereal against the bright sky, her gown flowing gently with the wind.

The room was bustling with activity, with the Princess Rhaenys, Daenerys, and Queen Ellaria – three powerful women of the realm.

Chapter 578: The Plague

Two months after Viserys' northern tour and some time since the unification of the Seven Kingdoms, prominent nobles from across the realm, as well as newly appointed council ministers, gradually arrived in King's Landing. Besides Princess Daenerys, Prime Minister Jon Clinton, and Finance Minister Illyrio Mopatis, trade caravans and fleets were continuously arriving, making King's Landing busier than ever. Since the time of strife, the city had surpassed Oldtown, becoming Westeros' largest and most economically vibrant city. The nation was at peace, with no wars, a warm climate, and a steady increase in food production.

Thanks to Westeros' unique climate, a long summer followed the harsh winter. The land yielded three to four crops annually. The first major harvest after the unification of the Seven Kingdoms had arrived. This harvest significantly relieved the pressure of King's Landing's food crisis. Grain, escorted by the kingdom's army, was transported from the fertile Riverlands to the capital.

The Riverlands had borne the brunt of the war against the White Walkers, the final battleground. The vast hordes of the dead were a natural breeding ground for bacteria, potentially bringing terrible viruses with the snow and wind.

However, due to the intense warfare, the population density in the Riverlands had sharply decreased. Most people had fled to the major cities in the south, halting the virus's spread. When Geoffrey, Count of Brecken, who was poised to become the governor of the Riverlands, arrived in Twins, he discovered the outbreak through reports from local nobles.

They responded ruthlessly, encircling the affected areas with the Riverlands' army and killing all villagers using long-range bows. The areas were then burned to the ground, bodies included, purging the plague. Flames, in popular belief, were the most effective way to combat disease, and for the followers of the Red God, fire was also a method of purification.

Due to Viserys' balanced approach, the number of Red God followers in King's Landing had grown, challenging the faith of the Seven. In a bustling part of King's Landing, a red-robed monk performed, breathing fire, much to the delight of onlookers. Some even threw coins in appreciation.

"Miss Nastrica, reward him with a gold dragon for me," a noble young lady with curly brown hair, wearing a green floral dress resembling a budding flower, requested. Her chest bore the Tyrell sigil. Nastrica, a nun with a face marked by pimples, hesitated but eventually complied, handing over a gold coin to the ecstatic monk, who gave thanks to the generous "Lady Margaery Tyrell."

The fate of Westeros' elite was beyond the commoners' knowledge. They believed the Tyrells had fallen, but the family still seemed prosperous and influential. The House of Tyrell, once lords of Highgarden, now ruled from Starfall. Despite their recent losses, the respect and awe for the Tyrells remained.

Olenna Redwyne, the matriarch, had tried to get Margaery into the Red Keep to restore the Tyrells to power, but this plan had failed. Still, she found another way. Willas Tyrell had been appointed tax officer in King's Landing, and using this opportunity, Olenna had Margaery establish the Tyrell name in the city.

Although the Tyrells' wealth had diminished significantly, Olenna instructed her granddaughter to maintain their family's prestigious façade. The commoners of King's Landing, from the simplest folk to the affluent, soon recognized the name Margaery Tyrell. They realized the Tyrells were still affluent and respected, ensuring no one dared mock the newly appointed Willas.

Chapter 579: The Master of Craftsmanship and The Master of Agriculture

Inside the Red Keep, an array of matters was laid out for discussion.

The primary topic was about adding seats to the Small Council.

Currently, the Small Council under King Viserys was headed by Hand of the King, Jon Clinton.

Beneath him were Master of Coin, Illyrio Mopatis; Master of Laws, Prince Oberyn, who also served as the Commander of the Second Legion; Master of Whisperers, Varys, the "Spider"; Master of Ships, Geoffrey Brecken; and Master of War, Khal Drogo, among others.

Grand Maester Marwyn had been nominated, and while Qyburn had accepted Viserys' offer to serve as a Grand Maester to the Iron Throne, he declined the position of Archmaester.

He wasn't fond of administration but loved solitary research. Thus, he only chose to serve as a Doctor in the Theology Institute, specifically in the Department of Magic and Mysticism.

The Archmaester's position, for now, was temporarily held by the High Septon. Melisandre served as a priestess and instructor for the Lord of Light.

The High Septon was entitled to attend Small Council meetings, but typically wasn't summoned for regular sessions. Additionally, Tyrion Lannister, as the King's personal advisor, and Ramsay as the Head of Domestic Affairs, were also present.

New nominations to join the Small Council included the Master of Craftsmanship and the Master of Agriculture. Their importance had become increasingly evident.

One dealt with technological advancements, innovation, and increased productivity, while the other focused on the welfare of the populace and ensuring everyone was fed. Both positions were unanimously approved by the Small Council.

However, the nominations for these roles sparked fierce competition and power plays in the court.

The position of Master of Craftsmanship was secured by Tobho Mott, the master blacksmith who had forged the legendary sword "Twilight" for Viserys. This was a subtle move by Viserys to suppress the noble powers, signaling his unchanged resolve to support the commoners.

The common people, in turn, flocked to the plaza in front of the Red Keep, chanting Viserys' name. The nobility, once the object of mockery, could only simmer in silent anger.

Still, Viserys wasn't entirely hard on the nobility. As a sweetener, the position of Master of Agriculture was given to Lord Alester Florent of House Florent, whose lineage traced back to the legendary First Man, King Garth Greenhand.

Through a series of political maneuverings and considerations, the appointment of Lord Alester signified more than just filling a council position. It was an intricate dance of power and favor, a game of thrones.

Eddard "Ned" Stark's straightforward character made him ill-suited for the treacherous politics of King's Landing. It was no wonder that history seemed to be unkind to the Northern Lords who ventured south.

"Eddard," outside the Red Keep's prison cells, a weary-looking Lady Catelyn, clad in simple attire, nodded at the Unsullied guards. "Thank you."

With a rustle, two emotionless Unsullied soldiers stepped forward and unlocked the cell door.

Chapter 580: Brought to Court

With the clanking of heavy chains, silence filled the Throne Room. Though packed with people, nobody dared to speak. All eyes turned towards the entrance.

Eddard "Ned" Stark, Duke of Winterfell, was clad in prison attire. His hands and feet bound by heavy chains, his ash-gray hair disheveled. An unkempt beard covered his face, and his eyes seemed somewhat vacant.

Under the escort of the Unsullied soldiers, he entered the Throne Room. His gaze, somewhat lost, swept across the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms. Most faces were now strangers, with only a few still familiar.

They excitedly greeted him.

"Lord Stark!" "Lord Eddard Stark!"

Among them, a burly noble from the North, wearing the insignia of 'Winter's Pride,' seemed particularly emotional. His beard quivered slightly. It had been many months since their Lord Stark had appeared publicly. He had been held captive in the Red Keep, his fate unknown. Only Lady Catelyn had been granted visiting rights.

"Lord Karstark," Ned replied, dragging his heavy chains, escorted by the Unsullied, passing through the crowd. Recognizing familiar faces, the confusion on his face ebbed slightly, responding with a hoarse voice.

These were surviving Northern nobles. After the Battle of Riverrun, they surrendered to the Targaryen forces. Some had even joined the regular army ranks, merged into the Second and Third Legions, accompanying Prince Oberyn on his Westerlands campaign. Others served with the Golden Company, aiding Viserys in defeating Stannis and crushing the Stormlands resistance.

Many Northern nobles had performed outstandingly, earning promotions or accolades.

The harsh climate of the North had shaped its inhabitants. They knew from birth that winter was coming, and they had to prepare to survive. Hence, they didn't concern themselves with empty courtesies, court ceremonies, flashy cultures, or tourneys. They spoke bluntly, without guile, and their intentions were straightforward.

The Stark family had ruled the North for thousands of years. Their one wish was for the Warden of the North to be one of their own, not an outsider.

Northerners' stubborn and insular nature made them hard to govern, much like the Dornish.

"The North once stood alongside us, fighting a common enemy. After King Robert was captured, they promptly surrendered and achieved great merit..."

Historically, new dynasties often belittled their predecessors, providing justification for their rule. Yet, it was rare for a new dynasty to praise its predecessor. The Targaryens had once scorned Robert Baratheon as a 'Usurper.' Still, Viserys, determined to establish a new kingdom, chose to acknowledge King Robert's rule, admitting that the Targaryens had been overthrown by the 'Mad King' Aerys II.

Political compromises were often mutual necessities. In politics, words could change in an instant. It was common for seasoned politicians to contradict their own words.

Thus, the 'Usurper' became 'King Robert.' But the name of the war remained the 'War of the Usurper.' Robert had usurped the Iron Throne, becoming the king of the Seven Kingdoms.

Ned Stark, bound in heavy chains, approached the dais. His honest nature couldn't comprehend the subtle shifts in rhetoric. He didn't care to ponder it either.

Among the high seats, he recognized a few faces: Varys, the "Spider"; Prince Oberyn of Dorne; his old adversary, Jon Clinton. But many were strangers: Commander Mys Toyn of the Golden Company, Khal Drogo of the Dothraki, and Grey Worm, Commander of the Unsullied. Their sharp gazes pierced Ned Stark.

"It's been a while, Lord Eddard Stark," Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish, clad in a black cloak, greeted him with a smirk.

On the side, Tyrion Lannister, the 'Imp' and royal advisor, standing on the steps below the Iron Throne, coughed lightly. He looked up at the silver-haired young man on the throne, wearing a Valyrian steel crown. Then, he continued, "Your Grace, the North has been loyal, not resisting the unification. The sins of the Usurper's War remain unresolved, and the North is yet to be reclaimed. Therefore, Lord Eddard Stark still has the right to retain his title as Duke of Winterfell..."

Tyrion's voice echoed in the silent Throne Room. These were not his own sentiments but a pre-arranged script.

Ned, gaunt with a rough beard, remembered his wife's words before he was imprisoned. After a moment's silence and a deep breath, he bowed slightly towards the Iron Throne, replying hoarsely, "Your Grace."

Seeing Ned submit and address the king properly, all the Northern lords present breathed a sigh of relief— all but one.

Ramsay Snow, whose brothers had perished, no longer urgently desired the Bolton name. Instead, he had other ambitions. Observing that Ned did not uphold the hardy spirit of the North and had immediately submitted, Ramsay's eyes darkened. Yet, he quickly smiled brightly.

Viserys, seated on the Iron Throne, only nodded slightly. Eddard Stark, Duke of Winterfell, was then led to stand beside Prince Oberyn.

"Lord Eddard Stark," Oberyn greeted, having returned to King's Landing with his captive, Tywin Lannister. The Dornishman, with his deep complexion, wore a smile resembling Ramsay's. "I've long heard of Lord Stark's reputation for integrity."

"Prince Oberyn," Ned, recently released from prison and overwhelmed by his long confinement, had little to say to the Dornish prince and simply nodded in response.

At that moment, another voice resounded from the front of the Iron Throne, drawing everyone's attention.

"Lord Geoffrey Brecken."

Chapter 581: The Grand Ennoblement Ceremony

Standing atop the steps in front of the Iron Throne, the Prime Minister, Jon Clinton, wearing the Hand of the King's badge in place of Tyrion, gazed down upon the vast assembly of major nobles from all the Seven Kingdoms. Many lesser nobles didn't even have the privilege to enter the throne room. He then began reading from the list.

"Count Joffrey Brecken."

From the front row of the Iron Throne's councilors, an aged naval general with graying hair, clad in full armor and still looking robust with age, stood. His son, Hendry Brecken, stood just behind him. Stepping out from the crowd, the elder Brecken approached the center of the throne room and knelt.

"Your Majesty."

With a rustling sound from his armor, he first bowed to the young king on the Iron Throne. Rising, he gave a nod of respect to the Hand of the King on the steps.

"Lord Jon Clinton."

"Old lord, you needn't be so formal."

Facing Count Joffrey Brecken's courteous gesture, Jon Clinton, as Viserys' third Prime Minister, was well aware of the Count's stature in the new royal order.

Joffrey Brecken was the first Hand of the King, followed by Prince Oberyn, and then Jon. The silver-haired man nodded in acknowledgment.

Jon Clinton glanced at the paper in his hand and began to recount the achievements of Count Joffrey Brecken.

As the Commander of the Dragonstone Fleet during the Usurper's War, he had protected the Queen and her son, who had fled to Dragonstone. He later accompanied Viserys to Essos and ultimately, the Dragonstone Fleet played a pivotal role in the counteroffensive on Westeros, successfully reclaiming the Iron Throne.

Joffrey Brecken's merits spoke for themselves, naturally placing him at the forefront of the councilors, the first to be ennobled.

"Lord Joffrey of House Brecken of Twins River City."

"Do you swear eternal loyalty to the Iron Throne, allegiance to your king, allegiance to the Targaryen family, to guard the Three Rivers region, protect its people, fulfill your duties, and judge disputes justly?"

Reciting the oath for the governor, the gray-haired old general knelt once more, solemnly declaring, "I swear, Your Majesty."

Count Joffrey Brecken was granted Twins River City as his domain and became the governor of the Riverlands, wielding significant power.

The second to be honored was the commander of the Third Legion of the Golden Company, Miss Toyne. Although Viserys initially intended to place Jon Clinton second for his vast contributions in coordinating supplies and support from the rear, Jon himself had demurred, suggesting others be prioritized to consolidate loyalty.

"Lord Miss Toyne."

Miss Toyne had led a swift assault on Dragonstone, effortlessly taking King's Landing, then defeating Stannis and capturing the Stormlands. His achievements were undeniable, marking him as one of the most pivotal figures in the establishment of the new dynasty.

However, due to various reasons, including Jon Clinton's opinions, the Small Council deliberated on ennobling lords with significant power. They unanimously believed that the generals who had conquered these lands shouldn't be ennobled there but rather in different regions, ensuring the central power's dominance and avoiding future threats.

Thus, despite his outstanding achievements, Miss Toyne was granted Casterly Rock, the former Lannister stronghold, and named the warden of the Westerlands. The Golden Company soldiers under him were also bestowed with various titles across the lands.

The Seven Kingdoms had been shattered after several wars. Numerous ancient families had perished in just a few years, leaving many castles and lands vacant.

The Golden Company's soldiers only made up a fraction of the total ennoblements, but they were spread across the entire realm.

The middle-aged general, adorned in golden armor and a scruffy beard, also knelt, swearing eternal loyalty to the Targaryens.

Subsequently, the third to be honored was the Hand of the King, Jon Clinton.

His unwavering loyalty to the Targaryens was well-known. He had served as the Prime Minister to Viserys' father, King Aerys II, but was exiled after a defeat. Yet, he bore no resentment towards the Targaryens.

He later joined the new king, aiding Viserys in capturing and establishing Pentos. This city became the springboard for the war to reclaim Westeros. He supplied massive amounts of provisions and coordinated logistics from the rear.

Thus, Jon Clinton, even without participating in frontline combat, was rightfully recognized. Originally from the Stormlands, he was once the lord of Griffin's Roost. Now, he was granted Storm's End and the title of warden of the Stormlands.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

With a face marked by hardships, Jon Clinton knelt before the Iron Throne. From serving as the Hand to a decade of exile in foreign lands, and now, his rise to power, his emotions were a whirlwind. Nevertheless, he composed himself and continued with the ennoblement ceremony.

Each warden's ennoblement was met with thunderous applause from the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.

Fourth was Euron Greyjoy of the Iron Islands, granted Pyke and named warden of the Iron Islands.

Euron had pledged allegiance to Viserys before the campaign to reclaim Westeros and had distinguished himself in the war against the White Walkers.

He risked annihilation by steering ships filled with wildfire down the Green Fork, crashing into the army of the dead. This daring act shattered the ice, annihilating countless wights.

Later, when Oberyn led an offensive into the Westerlands, Euron aided in a surprise attack on Lannisport, ultimately defeating Tywin Lannister and reclaiming the Westerlands.

Thus, his appointment as warden of the Iron Islands was beyond reproach. However, Asha "the Kraken's Daughter" and her brother Theon looked displeased. Yet, she was wise enough not to voice her dissent openly.

Euron, with his "evil eye", knelt and swore his eternal loyalty. Rising, he basked in the applause of the Seven Kingdoms' nobles, then cast a provocative glance at Asha.

"My dear niece, you should return to the Iron Islands. It's your home," Euron whispered as he passed Asha.

"Uncle will take 'good' care of you."

Euron's expression was dark and lascivious, which was met with a furious glare from Asha. He laughed heartily, pinched young Theon's cheek, and returned to the line of lords.

On the throne room stage, far from the audience below, Jon Clinton was unaware of Euron's whispered words. However, he soon cleared his throat and resumed the ceremony.

The last foreign lord to be honored was Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish, who single-handedly quelled a rebellion in the Vale. He was named warden of the Vale but wasn't granted any castle. Instead, he entered the Eyrie as a surrogate father.

"What's happening?"

"Why isn't Prince Oberyn of Dorne here?"

With all foreign lords ennobled, the absence of Oberyn sparked murmurs among the Seven Kingdoms' nobles, especially those from Dorne.

"Perhaps it's because of the massacre. So many ancient families..."

"He's too ruthless."

However, Oberyn appeared indifferent, as if he'd anticipated this outcome. Amidst the murmurs, many of which were taunts, he never looked back.

Chapter 582: A Step Back Opens Up the World

From the very beginning, when he boldly ordered the massacre of the Westerlands nobles, he knew he'd face backlash from the noble forces.

Both Oberyn and Viserys were rule-breakers.

Yet the nobles didn't dare to confront Viserys or the Dothraki. After all, they didn't want to become dragon food or negotiate with barbarians whose language they didn't understand. The consequences of defying the king were already clear to see.

So, they directed all their resentment at Prince Oberyn of Dorne.

He was seen as a savage, an uncivilized Dornishman who broke the rules of the noble's game. Hatred shouldn't involve families, and one shouldn't eradicate an entire lineage.

Had they all adhered to precedents like 'The Rains of Castamere' and kept to mutual slaughter, many ancient families that have lasted thousands of years wouldn't exist. They would have annihilated each other, lost in the rivers of history.

Before returning to King's Landing, Oberyn already received numerous condemnations and protests from the Seven Kingdoms' nobility.

Perhaps the Iron Throne didn't bestow him any titles due to the pressure, or perhaps because of the immense power backing Oberyn.

There was nothing left to bestow upon him. Any more titles, and he'd practically be a second 'king'.

As the Prince of Dorne, Oberyn had the mighty Dorne behind him. He also led the Second Legion, commanding 20,000 battle-hardened soldiers.

Moreover, he was a royal in-law. Historically, such figures were often embroiled in bloody internal struggles, and the Targaryens were no exception.

Bestowing any more lands or titles on Oberyn would be hard to control.

Thus, when the Small Council made their deliberations, Oberyn, as the Minister of Justice, was present. He himself proposed to forgo any titles, to keep a low profile, and to ensure a smooth transition.

In this game of thrones, many, like Petyr Baelish, would resort to any means to climb higher.

But for those truly intelligent and rational, sometimes taking a step back opens up a broader horizon.

Oberyn's calm suggestion to step back was unanimously agreed upon by the council.

Thus, he knew long ago that his name wouldn't be among those appointed as governors. Yet, he still held the position of Minister of Justice, wielding judicial power second only to the king, even above the regional governors. He commanded 20,000 elite soldiers stationed near the Kingswood, guarding the capital.

Oberyn's decision was wise, preserving his power by stepping back at the crucial moment.

The ennoblement ceremony wasn't over yet. All the non-native governors of Westeros were appointed. The remaining issues, like the overseas city-states, the Dothraki, and Dorne, had already been settled.

The overseas territories of Andalos and Pentos weren't included in the ennoblements, but were secretly decreed earlier.

Viserys had promised Illyrio a governorship, so he was appointed Governor of Andalos.

Besieged at Castle Black, the First Legion's commander, Bessie Joyce, connected by the black fog, was one of Viserys' most trusted and valued generals.

She was appointed as the Governor of Pentos, the only place in the kingdom where military and governance were combined, defending the kingdom's overseas territories. Miss Toyne's troops weren't stationed in the Westerlands.

Because Viserys knew that she, along with Kingsguard Mia and Commander Brynden Tully of the capital's defense, would never betray. The black fog had saved and enhanced them, but it also controlled their lives.

The Dothraki, who had made significant sacrifices in both the war against the White Walkers and the two conquest wars, were also granted lands.

They would return to Essos after the war, with the vast plains southeast of Pentos as their temporary homeland.

Viserys promised them that in the future, his whip would point east, conquering more vast lands. The entire Dothraki Sea would be their playground.

They would be superior to other Dothraki, becoming the top 'nobles' and sending lower tribesmen to war.

Viserys' grand promises excited the Dothraki warriors. They raised their arakhs, their shouts echoing across the battlefield of Sunspear.

As for Dorne, Viserys had made promises earlier. His reforms wouldn't touch Dorne, rewarding them for their early support.

Dorne retained its status, separate from the other Seven Kingdoms. They could continue with their traditional noble system — lords, farmers, warriors, etc. The Iron Throne wouldn't interfere much.

The Dornish nobles were ecstatic, loudly praising the king. Their gaze at the other Seven Kingdoms' nobles carried a hint of superiority.

They had 'earned their place by the dragon'. They had invested in Viserys early on, and even the queen was Dornish. They believed their status was only natural.

The other Seven Kingdoms' nobles, once looking down on the Dornish, now felt resentment. But they couldn't vent it out.

Everyone knew that Dorne had significantly contributed to the kingdom's establishment. Dornish traders became increasingly common in King's Landing, squeezing out other merchants.

Before, traders from other parts of the Seven Kingdoms bullied the Dornish. Now, the tables had turned.

However, with the Dornish becoming more arrogant, Tyrion, the king's personal advisor in the Small Council, took note. He avoided Oberyn and expressed his concerns to Viserys in private.

Tyrion claimed he held no resentment towards the Prince of Dorne because of the Lannister massacre.

But it was clear that even if Tyrion faced betrayal from his family, such a terrible incident, a massacre of his family, would leave some bitterness.

Tyrion feared that the Dornish, with their 'in-law' status and special sense of superiority, might become a tumor in the kingdom's system.

After all, every part of the Seven Kingdoms underwent reforms except Dorne.

However, Viserys didn't provide much explanation to Tyrion's concerns. He merely remained silent for a moment and asked him to think more deeply.

Tyrion, puzzled but intelligent, pondered upon Viserys' hint. When realization dawned, he was drenched in cold sweat.

He understood Viserys' method to keep Dorne in check.

Chapter 583: The Royal Garden

Viserys' reforms aimed to dismantle the aristocratic monopoly, elevate the status of commoners, and centralize power. Traditionally, the king stood above the nobility, who stood above the commoners. Commoners swore allegiance to local lords, who in turn swore allegiance to greater lords, with the king at the pinnacle.

This system might have initially worked, but the expansive power of the nobility became a concern. Their influence grew so vast that they could easily overthrow a king whose interests did not align with theirs. Meanwhile, commoners, oppressed by entrenched noble power, suffered. Their own crops were deemed stolen if they tried to keep more for themselves, essentially "stealing" from the noble lords.

In this tug-of-war, both the royal power and the commoners found themselves victimized by the nobility. Viserys's decision to curb the power of the aristocracy naturally benefitted both the crown and the commoners.

In isolated areas, such reforms might go unnoticed. But when they become widespread, regions retaining the old ways inevitably face internal tensions. For now, Dorne, with its distinct status, may revel in its superiority. Yet, in the long run, only the Dornish nobility truly benefit, while commoners and traders fare worse than their counterparts in the reformed Seven Kingdoms.

Understanding all of this, Tyrion Lannister felt a chill down his spine. He pitied the proud Dornishmen and grew more wary of the seemingly young but cunning king. After all, Viserys, who had been navigating the treacherous waters of King's Landing from a young age, had built an empire from almost nothing. Such adaptability was his greatest gift.

As the ceremony continued, Viserys began the ennoblement of House Targaryen's members. Rhaenys Targaryen, dressed in military attire, drew her Valyrian steel sword, "Dark Sister," and knelt. Her words were too soft for the distant nobility to hear, but all strained to catch a glimpse of the renowned beauty. Many nobles dreamt of marrying her, but it was common knowledge she was reserved for the king.

Viserys then conferred upon Rhaenys the title of Duchess of Summerhall, the Targaryens' summer palace. Following that, his sister, Daenerys Targaryen, was named Duchess of Dragonstone, traditionally an honor for the heir apparent. This sparked murmurs, as many had expected the title for Princess Daenerys would signify her as the heir, especially with Rhaenys being named Duchess of Summerhall.

However, the biggest surprise awaited. The long-neglected Riverlands would be integrated into the royal domain, and Highgarden would serve as the royal family's private garden.

Chapter 584: A Special Prisoner

For a long time following, the topic that dominated many conversations was the disappearance of the Riverlands administrative district. The once-noble families of the Riverlands, overnight, transformed into the 'King's Personal Army', now nobles of the royal domain.

People looked to Varys, hoping to see anger, fear, or hysteria etched on the face of the former heir to Highgarden. They hoped he would voice out in opposition, cause a scene, and ultimately be executed. But much to their disappointment, Varys remained silent throughout. He simply focused on his duties as a tax officer under the Master of Coin.

Despite the handicap of his legs, Varys tirelessly traveled the city, ensuring proper tax collection and addressing any discrepancies. His education and knowledge proved invaluable, revealing him as more than just a "bookish" leader. While his past mistakes might haunt him, Varys seemed to have awakened from the battles of his past. He diligently worked from the ground up, step by step, without arrogance.

However, this quiet resilience of Varys disappointed those who yearned for drama. Yet, the attention of the realm was quickly diverted to an event of greater importance.

The highly-anticipated public trial was about to begin. A massive temporary court was being constructed in the plaza below the Red Keep.

"Hurry up! Move faster!" "Lift that beam!"

Under the clear sky and scorching sun, officials supervised as sweating laborers worked to complete the tent-like structure. This makeshift court was nearing completion. Located beside the sea, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing and the salty breeze added to the atmosphere. Once complete, it would seat thousands, with many more able to view the proceedings from nearby trees or rooftops.

The Unsullied would secure the area, ensuring safety. With the realm recently emerging from chaos, many still harbored ill will towards the Iron Throne. Everything was still fragile.

Considering the vast number of cases related to the War of the Usurpers, the public trial would span over half a month, providing ample gossip for the denizens of King's Landing.

However, before this grand trial, another case required resolution. While ordinarily it might have been overlooked, its timing and nature placed it under the spotlight.

With King Viserys absent from King's Landing, having left for a vacation in Highgarden post-coronation, the matters of justice had been handed over to Oberyn, the Minister of Justice.

The Red Keep's throne room was silent except for the crackling of torches. Nobles from all Seven Kingdoms, along with the accused and Oberyn, all waited in palpable tension. As the doors of the throne room were thrust open, the atmosphere grew even more electric.

Six Unsullied, clad in black-scaled armor with spiky helmets, escorted a prisoner into the hall.

"He's here."

All, including the judge on the Iron Throne, Oberyn, tensed. Oberyn unintentionally grazed one of the throne's sharp edges, drawing blood.

The prisoner, with unruly hair and a tangled beard, was brought to the forefront.

"Kneel!"

An Unsullied ordered in the Common Tongue. The prisoner resisted. Ready to force compliance, an Unsullied reached for his dagger, prepared to sever the prisoner's tendons. But Oberyn quickly raised his hand, signaling them to stop.

"Hold!" "Wait."

Oberyn nodded to the Unsullied, then softly sighed. "Thank you for your service. Leave us."

Chapter 585: Trial by Combat

Oberyn Martell was well aware that the Unsullied were relentless killers. When they declared they would kill or maim someone, whether by word or deed, it was best to believe they were not jesting. Oberyn had never known them to jest.

As Oberyn intervened, the Unsullied turned their gaze towards the imposing Black Worm, who in turn cast a chilling gaze at the prisoner below. With a nod, the tension eased.

"Robert Baratheon, King of House Baratheon," the Unsullied declared, leading the prisoner before the Iron Throne. The atmosphere in the hall grew tense. Oberyn, acting as the chief judge, finally adjusted his posture and cleared his throat to speak.

Before him stood the former king, Robert Baratheon, imprisoned in the Red Keep for over a year. Rumors had circulated that, like Ned Stark of Winterfell, both men had been tortured to death in the Red Keep. But now, both were very much alive. Robert, although pale from lack of sunlight, was unharmed. His once-trim beard now resembled a bristly ball, and his hair, once kempt, now resembled a wild bird's nest.

Oberyn's voice echoed in the silent hall, "Lord Barron Swann of Stonehelm, standing beside you, is accused of assassinating your brother, Stannis Baratheon. He committed the heinous crime of killing a nobleman outside the bounds of just warfare."

While Oberyn spoke, the assembled nobles whispered among themselves. Robert, hands and feet bound in heavy chains, finally looked up, his bloodshot eyes betraying his emotions.

"Lord Robert," Oberyn continued, "No one is willing to fight for Stannis. Would you be willing to stand for him?"

The murmurs grew louder. The hall, usually adorned with chairs for the nobility, was now dominated by the Iron Throne alone. All others, including members of the royal family, had to either stand or kneel in its presence.

Robert finally spoke, his voice as deep and rumbling as distant thunder, "No one would fight for Stannis? Hmph. That's just like him." He paused, then added with determination, "I am his elder brother. I will fight for him."

The Unsullied unlocked Robert's chains. Without hesitation, he donned his armor and took his favored warhammer, Storm, from the hands of an Unsullied. The formerly imprisoned king seemed calm, the hardships of the dungeon not having broken his spirit.

On the other side, Barron Swann appeared more agitated. The thought of dueling a king was something he had never imagined. The weight of the situation pressed down on him. What would happen if he accidentally killed Robert? Would he be branded a "Kingslayer"?

While Barron's thoughts raced, Robert donned the final piece of his black breastplate and confidently took up Storm. He turned to face Barron, ready for the trial by combat that lay ahead.

Chapter 586: Duel

"I've never liked Stannis. Not one bit," Robert Baratheon declared, his voice resonant, as if the armor and the warhammer in his hand reminded him of the glory days of yore. "He's as stubborn as a rock in a ditch. Stinky and hard."

"Especially after hearing that he killed Renly. I wanted nothing more than to crush his skull."

Robert stood in the center of the Throne Room, warhammer in hand, as the surrounding lords of the Seven Kingdoms stepped back, creating a vast clearing for the two duelists. Barron Swann, gripping his spear warily, maintained a cautious distance. Regardless of his own confidence, he was up against a legend who had personally defeated Rhaegar Targaryen on the battlefield.

Yet, Robert seemed oblivious to Barron's caution. He strolled casually in the hall, his hair and beard unkempt, and his eyes, though bloodshot, blazed with a fire like a lion surveying its territory, ready to unleash its pent-up fury.

"But!"

Suddenly, Robert halted, his voice escalating, catching Barron off-guard.

"Boy!"

"You should never have used such despicable means to kill Stannis!"

Robert's face was a mask of fury, his unarmored head glaring with eyes that seemed ready to consume anyone in their path. With a roar, he swung his warhammer down.

The sight of Robert Baratheon charging forward, his massive warhammer creating a gust of wind, forced Barron Swann to act. The sound of metal clashing echoed throughout the room as Barron deflected the blow, barely evading the mighty swing.

Robert's warhammer smashed into the floor with such force that the lavish tiles of the Throne Room shattered, eliciting gasps from the watching nobles.

"The strength of King Robert is immense," murmured Illyrio Mopatis, the Master of Coin, from the balcony above.

Varys, standing beside him, sighed, "It's always like this, Illyrio. The high lords indulge in their whims, regardless of the consequences. Our king is on vacation, and 'His Grace' here is smashing up the Throne Room. Those tiles are worth a fortune. I suppose it will be up to the Master of Coin to foot the bill."

Back in the fray, Barron's spear was broken by another of Robert's ferocious attacks. Catching a new spear from an attendant, Barron parried yet another of Robert's blows, keeping a distance. His strategy was clear – to wear out the older, more powerful king with his agility.

Expert fighters both, their duel was a spectacle of skill and power. Barron, confident in his youth and vigor, taunted Robert, "Tired already? Just a few rounds and you're winded? Maybe the brothels of King's Landing have drained you too much."

Robert, panting slightly but undeterred, growled back, "Enough chatter, boy! We're just getting started. I'm only warming up!"

Chapter 587: The Bone Mountains

"Princess Rhaenys."

"Princess Rhaenys."

At that moment, Rhaenys had quietly appeared at the side door of the throne room, silently observing the duel. The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, engrossed in the duel, were taken aback and hastily paid their respects.

"Ah."

The auburn-haired young woman merely nodded subtly, then ascended the steps.

"Your Highness."

Oberyn, who had been sitting on the Iron Throne with a leg casually draped over the armrest, promptly put his foot down and stood up to greet her. Adjusting his attire, he bowed slightly.

"Uncle."

Rhaenys turned her gaze to the intense duel below.

"Is that the man responsible for my father's death?"

Rhaenys had never visited Robert during his long confinement in the Red Keep, fearing she might impulsively order his execution.

"It is him."

Oberyn nodded gently in affirmation.

"Will he die?"

Rhaenys, having begun to learn the art of combat from the female knight, lacked the keen insight of Oberyn, a seasoned gladiator. She removed her deer leather gloves and asked without hesitation.

Oberyn glanced at the scene. Robert, although showing signs of fatigue, seemed to be gaining momentum. After a brief assessment, he shook his head, offering an opinion contrary to many battle-hardened nobles present.

"Regrettably, I don't believe so."

Many of the nobles had combat experience, but it was typically in large-scale battles, not one-on-one gladiatorial combat where any tactic was fair game. Robert, a renowned warrior on the battlefield, was holding his own due to his extensive experience. Balon Swyft, the heir to Helmcrest, was skilled but still lagged in battle experience.

"Die!"

Before Oberyn could finish, Balon saw an opening and roared, charging at Robert. Yet, it was a trap.

A chorus of gasps filled the room as Robert's hammer met Balon's face, crushing it with brutal force. The grim scene sent shockwaves through the audience.

"I knew it."

Rhaenys remarked coldly, her hand resting on the hilt of her Valyrian steel sword.

"It's good. This means I'll have the chance to kill him myself. With this sword."

She drew a portion of her blade, its gleam reflecting off the dark Iron Throne.

"Viserys gave me this sword so I could exact my revenge."

With that, Rhaenys turned and departed, leaving Oberyn silently contemplating her determined departure.

Two Unsullied soldiers proceeded to drag away Balon's corpse and clean the blood. Robert, without resistance, was shackled and led back to his cell.

Meanwhile, news reached Westeros of major developments across the Narrow Sea. The Dothraki Sea had been unified under the silent Mengo Kao after months of brutal warfare. Many assumed the Dothraki would target the wealthy Free Cities, but instead, they were seen moving eastward.

What lay to the east? The mysteries beyond the Bone Mountains remained an enigma, with only occasional traders from the Jade Sea shedding light on the unknown.

Chapter 588: Archmaester Pycelle

In the days leading up to the public trial, many minor cases related to the War of the Usurpers were addressed. For instance, a Westerlands knight was accused by the citizens of King's Landing for looting, burning, and committing heinous crimes after invading the city. A Northern noble was charged for burning down farmsteads, among other things.

Over the past decade, many victims or their families have not passed away. With the crown backing them and the Crown's Justice, Prince Oberyn Martell, personally visiting these victims, more and more people started stepping forward, accusing those who had previously wronged them. This included cases of stolen crops and other resources.

The Iron Throne decreed that these guilty nobles must return everything they had stolen, and those who committed heinous crimes like murder or rape were punished accordingly. Some were sentenced to long-term imprisonment, others were mutilated, and some faced hanging or beheading. Those who begged for mercy hoped to join the Night's Watch and serve at the Wall.

The Night's Watch welcomed all, and with many of these fallen nobles joining, often accompanied by a few retainers for their protection, their ranks swelled. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont was pleased as the Watch, which had dwindled to a mere fifty men after numerous battles, now had close to a thousand members, restoring it to its former strength. But it was still far from enough, considering the threats from beyond the Wall.

King Viserys planned to further expand the Night's Watch, even considering expeditions beyond the Wall to establish bases and castles. One day, he would ride his dragon to the ends of the world to uncover its mysteries. But for now, the Night King still loomed, Winterfell lay in ruins, the Wall had a massive breach, and the North was in shambles.

Ten days into the public trial, many defeated nobles faced justice. With efficient speed, Prince Oberyn emptied the dungeons of King's Landing. This included nobles captured in battles like the Battle of Riverrun or those who had rebelled during the naval battle at Dragonstone.

The last Lord of Tides, Morford Velaryon, was beheaded without mercy. His family, having been lost at sea during the fall of Tides, met a watery grave. The Velaryons, distant kin to the Targaryens, were extinguished.

Next was Archmaester Pycelle, a significant figure from the past.

"Archmaester Pycelle."

The elderly maester, imprisoned for a long time, had soiled himself when brought to the court, much to the disgust of the audience.

"Prince Oberyn, I am innocent! I never betrayed the King. I never did!"

Pycelle's white hair and beard shook as he pleaded. He had hoped that Archmaester Marwyn, a fellow scholar from the Citadel, would vouch for him. But Marwyn only showed disdain.

"Archmaester Pycelle, your guilt or innocence isn't solely for you to declare."

Prince Oberyn, the Crown's Justice, stared coldly at Pycelle. Oberyn held Pycelle partly responsible for the death of his sister, Elia Martell, and had long wanted him dead.

Witnesses were called.

First was Varys, the Master of Whispers, who had served King Aerys II. He vividly described Pycelle's deceit that led the Mad King to open the gates of King's Landing.

"You cannot trust the Spider's words, my lords..."

Pycelle tried to defend himself, but his defense crumbled as young girls, whom Pycelle had taken advantage of, testified against him. They spoke of his fake frailty, his prowess in bed, and his loyalty to the Lannisters. They revealed that Pycelle had been feeding the Lannisters information, betraying the crown, long before Robert Baratheon's rule.

Chapter 589: Banished to the Frontier

One after another, witnesses stepped forward, publicly exposing the seemingly kind and benevolent Archmaester Pycelle for the hypocrite he truly was.

Nobility from the Seven Kingdoms and common folk of King's Landing who were in attendance displayed expressions of disgust. Some couldn't hold back and spat at Archmaester Pycelle, while others threw rotten eggs and fruit.

"Disgraceful!" "Scum!"

They were shocked at the extent of the Archmaester's actions. Despite being old enough to be a girl's grandfather, he had violated their trust and innocence.

"Execute him!" "Execute him!"

The first calls for his execution echoed, with more and more voices joining in, demanding that the just Minister of Justice, Prince Oberyn, sentence this treacherous Archmaester to death. They believed he shouldn't be allowed even a gasp of life.

During this period, Oberyn had openly and justly tried numerous cases. With his sharp wit, he ensured that justice was swift and accurate. As a result, he gained increasing admiration from the people, reversing the infamy he had earned from his previous massacre in the Westerlands.

After all, humans are forgetful. Months ago, he was seen as the savage from Dorne. But now, after executing nobles and redistributing their wealth to the plundered citizens of King's Landing, Oberyn was hailed as a hero.

Archmaester Pycelle, currently the target of public ire, was in a sorry state, his forehead bleeding from a thrown apple.

"I... I..."

He hadn't anticipated this wrath, and even his once noble "friends" avoided his gaze, unwilling to plead on his behalf.

The elderly man with white hair and beard held his head, blood staining his cheeks. Pycelle, realizing he wouldn't walk away unscathed, pleaded with the judges, hoping for a chance to don the black and join the Night's Watch.

However, not everyone is granted such an opportunity. The prestigious House Velaryon, for instance, required the King's consent to join the Night's Watch. Unfortunately, the esteemed King was currently away, recuperating in the royal gardens of Highgarden.

Thus, the chief judge and two deputy judges were left to decide.

Below the Red Keep, in the plaza of King's Landing, three judges presided over the public trial each day. Prince Oberyn was always the chief judge, while the other two seats were rotated daily among the governors and court ministers.

"This damned scum," War Minister Khal Cago, struggling with his Westerosi Common Tongue, remarked.

While his command of the language was limited, he understood the evidence presented. Among the first words he learned in Common were various expletives, which became his favorites.

"In the Dothraki culture, we only take foreign women, never our own!"

Children held special significance for the Dothraki. Even when raiding and pillaging, they wouldn't harm children smaller than a wagon wheel. This cultural difference set them apart from other civilizations.

Khal Cago's words left Prince Oberyn momentarily speechless. To the Dothraki, were foreign girls not considered girls?

Petyr Baelish, Lord of the Vale, dressed in a black cloak with a mockingbird pinned to his chest, spoke up, "Archmaester Pycelle betrayed his king, leading to tragedy. He should be held responsible for the disaster in King's Landing years ago. I propose the death penalty."

Baelish subtly nodded at Khal Cago, attempting to bond with the Dothraki, but to no avail. Cago, unfamiliar with courtly manners, merely continued to pick at his teeth.

"Lord Oberyn," interjected Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. "Maester Aemon's age has caught up with him. Perhaps Archmaester Pycelle could assist him in the North?"

Aemon had been offered a chance by Viserys to break his vows and retire in King's Landing, but he declined, choosing to fulfill his lifelong commitment to the Night's Watch. As such, he would accompany them to fend off the remaining White Walkers, reclaim the North, and the Wall.

However, Aemon's advanced age meant he might not have many years left. With the Night's Watch now over a thousand strong but only one maester, Mormont hoped to add Pycelle.

Oberyn considered the proposal. Sending the old man to the icy North seemed a fitting punishment, especially knowing that the Night's Watch would soon be instrumental in reclaiming the North.

With the consent of the deputy judges, it was decreed: Archmaester Pycelle would join the Night's Watch as a maester.

Chapter 590: The Situation

"Your uncle has done well recently," Varys remarked, burning the intelligence report in the candle's flame. As the ashes fluttered to the ground, he looked up.

"Uncle Oberyn?" Queen Arianne, having just read the report, voiced her concerns, "But I believe he's been excessively cruel in his judgments. Take Balon Swann of Stonehelm, for instance. I think sparing him wouldn't have mattered much, especially since he helped us kill Stannis."

Arianne felt that Balon was a minor player, and his life or death wouldn't affect the bigger picture. She couldn't grasp why Oberyn had decided against mercy, even when Balon had once been beneficial to their cause. Oberyn, given full authority during Varys' absence, had the autonomy to make such decisions.

"Would Lord Gullian Swann rebel because of this? After all, that was his last son," the beautiful Dornish queen pondered, the candlelight reflecting her anxious expression.

"He might, or he might not. It doesn't matter," Varys replied calmly. "As you've said, Arianne, I don't need to consider Lord Gullian's feelings. If he bears his losses silently, he'll live. If he harbors resentment and seeks rebellion, we will simply eliminate him."

Currently, although the public trial in King's Landing was the most notable event across Westeros, the realm's operations continued. Envoys from the Free Cities, the Slave Bay, and even the distant Summer Isles awaited audiences in the Red Keep.

The envoys from the Free Cities had come to congratulate Varys on unifying the Seven Kingdoms. Those from the Slave Bay had sought regular diplomatic exchanges, only to be stunned by the change in power upon their arrival. The representatives from the Summer Isles, less informed, were merely curious about the rumored White Walkers.

Upon Varys' discreet return to King's Landing, these envoys realized that securing an audience with the king wasn't as straightforward as they'd hoped. Yet, when they discovered that envoys from Braavos and the Iron Bank were also waiting, any complaints they might have had evaporated.

The Iron Bank's envoy offered Varys an astonishing proposal during their meeting. They presented official documents absolving the Iron Throne of its debt. Additionally, in a show of the deepening friendship between Braavos and the Targaryens, they offered a no-interest loan of at least a million gold dragons to aid the crown in its efforts to rebuild the kingdom. Such generosity from the Iron Bank was unprecedented, leaving the Westerosi nobles present in shock.

Separately, the envoy from Braavos handed Varys a personal letter from the Sea Lord, Tormo Fregar.

"Understood," Varys murmured after reading the letter, detailing a prior verbal agreement between the two. With a nod, he burned the letter. The Braavosi envoy, likely a close confidant of Tormo Fregar, bowed silently and departed.

Chapter 591: Eddard Stark

Yesterday, Grand Maester Pycelle was put on trial. Today, the trial is reserved for nobles of even higher stature.

During the War of the Usurper, the houses of Stark, Baratheon, Tully, and Arryn were the primary forces opposing the crown. Now, their esteemed positions have been dramatically reduced.

The North has been entirely captured, with Winterfell still under the grasp of the dead. The Starks have managed to survive only because they did not resist the final ultimatum from the Iron Throne.

After the Battle of Riverrun and Eddard Stark's capture, the Northern troops surrendered, aligning themselves with the Targaryen army and even contributing significantly in subsequent battles.

House Baratheon's three brothers – Renly, Stannis, and Robert – have met their end. Robert's days are numbered, and soon he too will join his siblings in the seven hells.

The more fortunate houses are the Arryns of the Vale and the Tullys of Riverrun. Edmure Tully's swift surrender, combined with the death of Hoster Tully during internal strife, spared Riverrun and saved the Tully family, although they lost their ruling status.

The case of the Arryns is somewhat tragic. Jon Arryn was assassinated before the Targaryens set foot on Westeros, leading to the fall of King's Landing and the annihilation of their allied forces in the Battle of Wrathfire. With Jon dead, only a nursing child remains of House Arryn. The defense of the Vale was taken up by other nobles who, keen on protecting their interests, resisted the legitimate Targaryen claim to the throne.

The Vale's young lord was left in charge of the Eyrie, and Viserys believes that with a reliable stepfather to guide him, what more could young Robert Arryn ask for?

Viserys's plans are intricate, each detail fitting perfectly with the next. Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn, both deceased, naturally have no role in the ongoing trials. Yet their crimes are still brought to the public's attention.

Almost every noble involved in the War of the Usurper has received a fair trial, except for those already dead or those who have surrendered. Now, it's time for the most prominent nobles.

"Lord of the North."

"Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."

Eddard Stark, with his lengthy titles, now also has an equally lengthy beard. Having recently been released from his cell in the Red Keep for the partition ceremony, he's been able to move freely.

The nobles of King's Landing speculate about the political deals between the Starks and the king. Considering Catelyn Stark's persistent efforts to establish relations, the nature of the deal can be somewhat inferred.

The North is unique, much like Dorne. It's hard for outsiders to rule due to the stubborn nature of its people and land. The king intends to use House Stark to win the loyalty of the Northern lords, but the specifics of the deal remain elusive.

Eddard Stark, still in prisoner garb and chains, had lost enough dignity during his time in King's Landing. He was even designated as one of today's deputy judges, reading out the charges against his own father-in-law, Hoster Tully, and foster father, Jon Arryn. Once their trials were over, it was his turn.

Standing under the blazing sun, his hair unkempt and shackles clinking, a commotion arose from behind. The gates of the Red Keep opened, revealing Viserys and Queen Arianne, escorted by the Unsullied.

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

All the Westerosi nobles stood in respect, including the two remaining judges, Varys and Oberyn.

"Is that Eddard Stark?"

"Your father?"

Queen Arianne, adjusting her long dress, turned to her handmaiden. Among Arianne's maids was a red-haired girl named Sansa Stark. Sansa's face reddened, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at her father's disheveled appearance. But the fact he was alive was enough for her.

Sansa and her elder brother, Robb, were the bargaining chips to ensure their father's survival. Catelyn had discussed this with her children, respecting their choices. Even if Eddard was pardoned, the siblings would remain in King's Landing as hostages, perhaps never returning to Winterfell. Yet, they had unhesitatingly agreed.

"Yes, Your Grace. That's my father," Sansa replied, holding back her tears.

Elsewhere, Robb Stark, one of Viserys's attendants, was lost in thought, gazing at his father until a poke from a boy beside him snapped him out of it.

"Hey, Robb."

"Sorry, Joffrey."

The brown-haired boy apologized, admitting his momentary lapse.

"You shouldn't be apologizing to me, Robb."

"His Grace is calling you."

Joffrey motioned forward, and Robb noticed every eye in the room on him, including his father's.

Eddard, now freed from his shackles and draped in black, encouraged his son with a spirited look.

"Kneel beside your father, Robb."

Robb heard the command from Viserys.

Chapter 592: Robb's Ennoblement

At the public trial, Eddard Stark, the former Warden of the North and Duke of Winterfell, confessed to all his crimes, drawing jeers from the gathered populace.

Lord Eddard Stark was known for his noble character and unwavering sense of justice, revered throughout the Seven Kingdoms. However, this reputation was mostly confined to noble circles, and he never made an effort to propagate this image. To the common folk of King's Landing, he was just another arrogant, cold Northerner. The city had seen an influx of Northmen in recent years, many of whom had fled wartime strife. Their presence strained the resources of King's Landing, naturally leading to resentment and regional conflict.

The citizens of King's Landing disliked the Northmen, and Lord Stark was no exception in their eyes. Now hearing him admit to all his alleged crimes, they reacted with disdain. Yet, bound in chains at the center of the assembly, Ned remained unfazed, holding onto the words of advice from his wife, Catelyn.

She had paid a significant price to ensure his safety, and he would not falter now.

Subsequently, Eddard Stark knelt, begging the new king for mercy, willing to relinquish his titles and join the Night's Watch to guard the realm's northern borders. King Viserys forgave him, allowing him to don the black and start anew as a member of the Night's Watch.

Though this act was the culmination of political negotiations, it had to be performed publicly, serving as both a punishment and a showcase of the king's benevolence.

"Lord Stark," Eddard was unshackled, and Yoren, known as 'The Crow' from the Night's Watch, draped him in the black cloak. This signified Eddard's transition into the Night's Watch, ready to reclaim his homeland.

"Thank you, Your Grace," the Northern nobles cheered, their respect and admiration for the honorable Lord Stark evident. Despite the trying circumstances, at least he lived.

With Eddard's fate decided, attention turned to the significant question of who would govern the North. The Northmen strongly desired a Northerner to rule them. The position of the Warden in the new regime involved overseeing politics, economics, and law, but not military power, which was reserved for the Commander.

For the upcoming campaign to reclaim the North, King Viserys did not intend to employ his forces, who were weary from the recent conquest of the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, the task would fall to the Northmen and the Night's Watch, much like the Iron Islands, where Euron Greyjoy and his men were currently battling remnants of the undead.

Regarding the North's governance, Viserys had a plan. He had Robb Stark, Eddard's eldest son, kneel beside his father. Robb, realizing what was transpiring, handed his wine flask to his friend, Gendry, a former bastard who had become one of Viserys' earliest attendants after being abducted across the Narrow Sea.

Robb then greeted his father, who, despite being clad in the black of the Night's Watch, embraced his son, entrusting him with the care of their family.

Viserys then officially named Robb Stark as the Count of Winterfell, stripping away the titles of Warden of the North and Duke. Robb would serve as a royal attendant in King's Landing until he came of age, after which he would return to the North.

To the surprise of many, including the Starks, Viserys declared that given Robb's youth and inexperience, an interim regent would be needed to govern the North until Robb was ready. And Robb would be the one to choose this regent.

As the gathered Northern nobles exchanged glances, all eyes turned to Robb, now thrust into a position of power and responsibility. With a deep breath and a determined look, Robb made his choice.

"Lord Rickard Karstark!"

Chapter 593: The Great Steward of the North

Robb's choice of Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold as the Chief Steward of the North was both expected and logical.

He had lived up to the teachings of his parents. Thankfully, he hadn't chosen Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor or the countess from Widow's Watch, located at the edge of the continent where even birds found it undesirable.

The Karstark family was distantly related to the Starks, and Lord Rickard himself had been one of Eddard's trusted generals. Entrusting the North to Rickard was the best choice.

"Robb chose Lord Rickard."

"That's a relief."

Both Eddard and Lady Catelyn sighed in relief.

The named Rickard Karstark, a burly man with long hair and a face covered in a gray beard, donned in bear fur and draped with a dark cloak, stood up with a rustling sound. He approached the dais, thumping his chest with one hand, producing a muffled sound, and then kneeled.

"Your Grace!"

"I am willing to govern the North for you," Lord Rickard's thundering voice announced.

"The 'Winter Sun'. The Lord of Karhold, is it?" King Viserys wasn't too surprised by Robb's nomination. The choices available to Robb were limited.

The Manderlys of White Harbor, though powerful and wealthy, weren't truly of the North. Their Andal ancestry and worship of the Seven Gods rather than the Old Gods had always set them apart from the other Northern houses. Lord Rickard, being a trusted Stark ally, was an anticipated choice.

"Very well," King Viserys nodded in agreement.

Robb's choice, though significant, still required the king's approval. And now, with the king's nod, it seemed everything was falling into place.

Lord Rickard then turned to Eddard and Robb, kneeling before them, "Lord Robb Stark, you've entrusted the North to me. I will not let you down."

"It's in your hands now, Rickard," said Eddard, his voice laced with weariness. He patted the arm of the towering Northerner.

On the other side, Robb, with his youthful ruddy hair and cheeks still bearing the soft fuzz of adolescence, replied, "I trust you, Lord Rickard Karstark!"

This was the most significant decision of his life, and he felt both the weight and excitement of it. Now, truly a part of the game of thrones, he would face political intrigues, battles, and many more pivotal decisions.

"Lord Robb Stark!"

"Lord Rickard Karstark!"

The hall buzzed with the voices of the Northern nobles. The trial of Eddard Stark, the former Warden of the North and Duke of Winterfell, was certainly a major event in King's Landing.

It was evident to the keen observers that some political compromise had been struck between House Stark and the royal house, ensuring Eddard Stark's life.

Back in a local tavern, tales of the trial mixed with salacious gossip. A drunkard claimed to have seen Lady Catelyn entering the king's chambers and the sounds that followed. His wild tales drew laughter from the patrons and eye rolls from the serving girls. Yet, as the raucous laughter continued, a figure in the corner, cloaked in white, took a sip from his cup. He grasped the hilt of his sword, irritated by the crude jokes.

Suddenly, the tavern doors burst open. Masked soldiers in black robes entered, their target being the gossiping drunkard.

"Spreading rumors about the royal family and defaming the nobility. That's a capital offense," declared the captain coldly. The drunkard was seized, hands and feet chained.

"Mercy! I won't do it again!" the drunkard pleaded, sobering up instantly at the sight of the feared Internal Affairs guards.

His pleas fell on deaf ears as he was gagged and dragged away. The captain's gaze then swept over the patrons, who averted their eyes in fear. His gaze finally settled on the man in the white cloak.

"You! Lift your head!" the captain commanded.

Chapter 594: Customs Headquarters

The words of the Internal Affairs captain silenced the tavern. All eyes turned to the unfortunate man seated in the corner.

Draped in a white cloak, his hood concealed most of his face, though a longsword hung at his side. While the attire was peculiar, it wasn't uncommon in King's Landing, a city filled with all sorts of characters.

Upon hearing the captain's call, the hooded man hesitated, setting down his drink. The masked captain, sensing potential danger, tightened his grip on his crossbow.

Drawing from his years of experience and intuition working for Internal Affairs, he approached the stranger, demanding to know his identity. "I'm a sellsword. Been hard finding work in King's Landing lately," the man replied in a dialect commonly heard in the Vale. He mentioned working with a Braavosi ship crew, staying in the city for a few weeks.

Mercenaries were common throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Not all were involved in illicit activities; many served as escorts for merchant caravans and were occasionally conscripted into lordly armies during wartime.

"Braavosi crew?" the captain questioned, skeptically, demanding to see his credentials. King's Landing's customs issued identification to all foreign ships and their crew, a recent policy introduced by Lord Davos Seaworth, now overseeing the city's customs after bending the knee to King Viserys. His experience as a former smuggler made him adept at curbing smuggling activities.

Handing over his credentials, the golden-haired middle-aged man tried to remain amicable. The captain, after a brief examination, saw no issues and returned the identification. With a lingering gaze, he ordered his men to leave.

The atmosphere in the tavern eased once they left. A patron raised his mug to the man in the corner, "Lucky you didn't get dragged out with that drunk. What's your name?"

"Jaime," he replied, "Jaime Stonn. Son of a whore, never knew my father." The mention of the name drew parallels with the infamous Kingslayer, but this Jaime brushed it off, suggesting the real Kingslayer might be dead in some corner of the world.

Later that night, Cersei requested an audience with Viserys, hoping to visit her imprisoned father. Tywin Lannister's trial was imminent, and she felt helpless in her attempts to save him. Once the lofty queen, now she was merely a gilded bird, trapped in the Red Keep, fearing she and her children might never leave.

Coincidentally, Tyrion, who hadn't visited since Tywin's imprisonment, also sought permission that night, possibly the last night of their father's life. Many questions plagued him.

But before he could confront those thoughts, someone arrived at Tyrion's residence outside the Red Keep, seeking him out.

Chapter 595: Jaime

"Who are you?"

Tyrion kindled the light in the room, revealing a figure seated in a chair. The man was dressed casually, a longsword at his side, his head crowned with brilliant golden hair. His emerald eyes, set in a handsome face, held a familiar, razor-sharp smile as they fixed on Tyrion.

Having been betrayed by his family in the past, Tyrion's nature had grown somewhat reclusive. To the outside world, he remained the witty, intelligent dwarf, but at home, he preferred solitude, masking his smiles. Thus, he had dismissed most of the servants in his King's Landing residence, retaining only a few trusted old hands. His usual routine consisted of drinking wine and reading.

Upon lighting the candles and suddenly seeing a man seated so close, Tyrion had been startled. His hand instinctively reached for the dagger at his waist. However, recognizing the face before him, he froze. It was a visage he knew all too well, accompanied by that familiar smile.

"Jaime?!"

Alarmed, Tyrion raised his voice a little too much. Quickly, he clamped his mouth shut, casting a wary glance toward the door. Thankfully, his residence was scarcely staffed, making it hard for anyone to eavesdrop.

Making sure the door was securely closed, Tyrion turned his attention back to the nonchalant figure who continued to observe him intently. There was no mistaking it. Before him sat his long-lost brother, the 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister.

"Jaime! Why are you back?"

Under the flickering candlelight, Tyrion paced anxiously, his voice betraying his confusion. He had orchestrated an elaborate plan to rescue Jaime by hiring Bronn and a group of mercenaries. Their aim was to ambush the Goldcloaks and save Jaime, making it appear as though he had vanished. Instead, Jaime had carved his own path to freedom, disappearing from the world.

Tyrion had assumed he would never see Jaime again. The shock of his brother's sudden appearance was overwhelming.

"Why? Don't you welcome me?"

Compared to his flustered younger sibling, the golden knight appeared composed. His face bore more scars and wear from their time apart.

"I certainly do not..."

Tyrion started, clearly agitated. Catching himself, he lowered his voice and corrected, "Of course, I welcome you, Jaime. But you... you don't understand the situation."

He paced restlessly, clearly struggling to find the right words. "King's Landing is too dangerous for you."

Jaime simply shrugged, taking a sip from his glass. "I know. But I have a reason I had to come."

"Why?"

Tyrion's face was etched with confusion. Why would Jaime, knowing the risks, return?

Jaime merely shook his head, declining to explain further. Instead, he shifted the topic, "How have you been, Tyrion?"

The dwarf hesitated for a moment before responding, "Of course. I serve the greatest king in history. Our powerful kingdom spans both sides of the Narrow Sea. Soon, with the reconquest of the North, it might be termed an empire."

"We've vanquished all the traitors within our realm, displaying their heads on pikes. And yes, many of those were our kin," he added with a sigh. Pouring himself a glass, he handed one to Jaime, adding, "My former kin."

Jaime accepted the drink, nodding in understanding. He was aware of the Lannister family's downfall, but to him, Cersei's fate weighed far heavier on his mind than any other's.

"And you?"

Tyrion's eyes bore into Jaime's, seeking answers about his brother's whereabouts and experiences during their time apart.

"I've been okay," Jaime replied tersely. Taking a large gulp of his drink, he coughed violently, refilling his glass immediately after.

A prolonged silence filled the room.

"What do you plan to do?" Tyrion finally broke the silence, the weight of their shared history making words more cumbersome than usual.

"Take me to him."

"Cersei?"

"No, your king."

Chapter 596: Refusal

"Meet with Viserys?"

"How could you even think of such an absurdity?"

Tyrion felt as if the world had gone mad. Jaime, astonishingly, wanted to meet Viserys. And not in secret, but to confront him openly. Regardless of his reasons, Viserys would never forgive him. Jaime was the 'Kingslayer', and the king he killed was Viserys' own father, King Aerys.

"How do you think Viserys will punish the murderer of his father? Hanging? Beheading? Flaying, or perhaps burning alive?"

"Do you think offering yourself will save our father? Impossible! No one can save him, not even Cersei."

Tyrion's emotions surged, but he quickly composed himself. He was a sharp thinker, and it didn't take long for him to discern a potential motive.

"Do you plan to assassinate the King?"

Jaime's renowned swordsmanship made him a formidable threat, but Tyrion doubted it would suffice against Viserys. The King was not just a ruler; he was a symbol of unmatched strength and unity, having faced insurmountable odds and enemies.

"Magic."

"What?"

Tyrion clarified, "I mean, the King has magic. He's not mere mortal. How do you plan to kill him? Pardon my bluntness, but I know Viserys far better than you do."

The more Tyrion understood Viserys, the more he feared him. Tyrion even speculated that their current conversation might be overheard by the ever-watchful King.

"I cannot grant your request, Jaime."

The next morning, the square beneath the Red Keep was bustling with anticipation. The trial was drawing to an end, and today's accused was none other than Tywin Lannister, the man rumored to excrete gold.

A large crowd had gathered, eager to witness the trial of such a significant noble. Many nobles were also present, having been mandated to attend the public trial, which served as a reckoning for the rebellion years ago.

"Prince Oberyn."

"Lord Greyjoy."

The two shared a brief, civil exchange, their previous alliance evident. Greyjoy, in his simple sailor attire, looked at the accused being paraded out: Tywin Lannister and Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane, recently retrieved from the dungeons of Pentos.

As soon as Tywin emerged, he was surrounded by a sea of jeers.

"Traitor!"

"Devil!"

Insults rained down on him, accompanied by rotten tomatoes and stones. His arrival at the platform was only made possible by the Unsullied soldiers who shielded him.

The crowd's disdain for Tywin was palpable. They relished seeing this once-mighty lord now humbled and bloodied. It was a chance for retribution for the populace.

"Your Grace."

The trial began with the arrival of King Viserys. Today's panel of judges included not only the usually defiant Lord Greyjoy but also the Princess Rhaenys, making the trial even more significant.

Chapter 597: The Trial of Tywin

"Bring forth the accused."

There was no need for a lengthy invocation to start the public trial.

With a rustling sound, everyone settled after Viserys took his seat. Only when he gave the nod could the nobles and the two judges on the platform sit.

He gestured for the soldiers to usher Tywin Lannister forward.

To deal with these individuals was merely a formality for Viserys. He might not harbor intense hatred towards them. The leniency he showed during the trials, except for the betraying Targaryens, always leaned towards minimal execution.

Yet, in contrast, Oberyn's massacre in the Westerlands painted Viserys as a merciful ruler.

If this were the Viserys from the original timeline, he'd be thirsting to tear apart people like Tywin, Eddard Stark, and the Kingslayer, finding no punishment severe enough to quench his rage.

Because, after all, he felt no genuine connection to the father he nominally represented.

The once glorious Tywin Lannister, now dressed in prisoner's garb, bound and shackled, was pushed forward. Gone were the brilliant golden armor and crimson cloak; now only an old man, a prisoner, remained.

His forehead, freshly wounded, was hastily bandaged. But he was pushed to the center nonetheless.

The citizens of King's Landing greeted Tywin's appearance with deafening boos. Had it not been for the Kingsguard's presence and the presence of the King himself, they would have thrown whatever they could lay their hands on.

For many, the memory of the Lannister's treachery in King's Landing was still fresh.

"Kneel!"

The Unsullied soldiers pushed Tywin to the ground, forcing him to bow before the assembled lords.

"It's been a long time, Lord Tywin," the silver-haired youth on the dais commented with a calm voice.

When Tywin was first brought to King's Landing, Viserys hadn't bothered to see him. Mocking a defeated enemy felt tasteless.

The last time they had met was during a war council in Riverrun. Then, they had stood side by side, leaders of men, discussing how to save the world.

But how quickly allegiances shift. A united humanity, having just repelled a common threat, was soon embroiled in civil war, only ending today.

"Yes, it has been," Tywin responded from his position on the ground, his voice raspy. "The last time we met, we were allies."

He raised his head, scanning the familiar and unfamiliar faces. Those on the dais were the victors and beneficiaries of the recent war. After the recent power reshuffle, many unfamiliar faces now sat in places of power.

Yet for Tywin, karma had come full circle. Decades ago, he sat in a similar position, reaping the rewards of the Rebellion with minimal effort. Now, it was time for him to pay his dues.

The trial began with testimonies from commoners of King's Landing. A series of witnesses, chosen for their eloquence and representativeness, spoke against the Lannister house.

A fisherman's son, now in his twenties and with a family of his own, tearfully recounted the horrors his family faced during the Lannister sack of King's Landing.

A merchant spoke of his shop being looted, his employees killed, and his subsequent financial ruin.

Alliser Thorne, a knight of the Night's Watch, and once a loyal knight of the Targaryen house, spoke of the Lannister betrayal.

"Yes," Varys, the Spider, interjected, standing in the sun, "Lannister soldiers stormed the Red Keep, killing Princess Elia Martell, and sought to exterminate the entire royal line, including Prince Aegon. If it weren't for me smuggling the young Prince out..."

Varys' voice trailed off as he shared the secrets of that fateful day. Then, with a glance towards Tywin, he concluded, "The Lannister house's intent to wipe out the royal family is clear. As retribution, the house should be removed from history."

Sitting on the dais, Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, looked broken and tormented, a shadow of his former self. His eyes, full of fear, darted towards Oberyn.

Another knight, Sandor Clegane, the Mountain's brother, watched with satisfaction. "This is what you deserve!" he shouted.

In response, the Mountain only managed to glance towards Sandor, his lips trembling, but no words came out.

Chapter 598: Execution

Under the watchful eyes of the public at the trial, the Mountain admitted to his crimes. He had raped and killed Princess Elia Martell and had thrown a baby against a wall. He wasn't sure if the baby was Prince Aegon, but at this point, he just wanted a swift end. After being tortured by Oberyn for years, even the most resilient of men would break.

Then, Gregor Clegane further confirmed that after they had entered King's Landing, Tywin had ordered him and the Lannister knights, including Amory Lorch, to "storm the Red Keep and kill every living Targaryen." They carried out Lord Tywin's commands, although their methods were excessively brutal. The Mountain, who had been captured years ago during the battle of Pentos, and Amory Lorch, another culprit, had been killed in the Western battlefield, beheaded.

The Mountain's testimony about Lord Tywin's orders was irrefutable. The Red Viper's eyes were filled with rage. Even after all these years, and even after he had decimated the Lannister family, hearing about it still weighed heavily on him.

Rhaenys's eyes were similarly teary. She had forgotten the faces and voices of her parents, but their hatred remained unforgettable.

"Do you have anything else to say?" someone asked.

"Lord Tywin."

Viserys, who was involved in this event, listened calmly, showing no strong emotion. He simply sighed and then spoke. He had known about this outcome when he first arrived in this world and planned to flee King's Landing. But he couldn't warn anyone in time, couldn't stop the Mad King from opening the city gates, and certainly couldn't save his sister-in-law, Princess Elia, or others. The Mad King was mad for a reason.

It was then that Rhaenys, chasing a black cat, happened to run in front of a cart. Viserys, feeling pity, gritted his teeth and took her in.

"To the victor belong the spoils, Viserys."

"I fought and I lost. I have nothing more to say."

Tywin lifted his head, his voice rough and low. He offered no defense against the allegations, showing a defiant demeanor.

"Just remember one thing," Tywin said, staring intently at Viserys. "A Lannister always pays his debts!"

Tywin, now kneeling on the ground, knew his fate. Rather than begging Viserys for mercy and hoping for a chance to take the black, he chose to face death with dignity. He knew that even if he pleaded, there would be no chance of mercy. The execution block was being prepared.

"Prepare for the execution!"

Two soldiers placed a large butcher's block on the execution platform. The executioner was Sandor Clegane, the Westerlands knight. He was cleaning his greatsword, then sheathed it. The previous royal executioner, Ilyn Payne, had been beheaded by Sandor a few days prior – a fitting end.

Sandor, defeated at the Battle of Red Lake and taken prisoner, had then surrendered to the Targaryen army. He was severely burned at the time, and Oberyn only discovered his identity later.

The Hound was swift and ruthless in his executions, always taking a drink before delivering a clean, efficient death. He didn't prolong the suffering.

During this period, Sandor had beheaded many, averaging more than three a day. However, today's first execution was his own brother, Sir Gregor Clegane.

The Mountain was brought to the execution ground, his hands and feet broken, unable to resist. He was forced onto the execution block.

On the other side, Sandor, wearing heavy scale armor, took several large gulps from his flask and then set it down. Drawing his two-handed sword, its bright blade shone brilliantly in the sun.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time, my 'big' brother."

The Mountain, now on the block, faced the angry crowd below. He seemed to have a moment of clarity – after all, no one can face death calmly.

"Let me go!" He shouted twice, struggling to rise, hoping for mercy since he had implicated Tywin. But Sandor's sword showed no mercy. With a swift motion, the Mountain's large head rolled, blood spurting out.

Sandor cleaned the blood off his sword and sheathed it. Unsullied soldiers stepped forward, dragging away the Mountain's body.

Following the Mountain's execution, it was now Tywin Lannister's turn.

"Move!" Unsullied soldiers emotionlessly dragged Tywin to the execution block.

The block, still stained with the Mountain's blood, reeked of death. The smell, a mix of many who had been executed there, was nauseating. Even though Tywin had mentally prepared himself, the looming reality of his execution filled him with dread.

He was no different from the Mountain or countless others who were beheaded – fear consumed him in the end.

"Kneel!" Tywin was forced onto the block, his chest against the wood, his neck exposed. An overwhelming sense of cold dread enveloped him as death loomed.

His breathing became rapid, his mustached lips quivered, and fear gripped him.

On the other side, Sandor, having just beheaded his brother, took another swig from his flask, the strong alcohol burning down his throat. With an expression of either satisfaction from revenge or just a general bitterness, he cursed.

Drawing his greatsword again, he lifted it high.

Chapter 599: Tears

The royal executioner, known as the Hound, raised his massive sword high above his head.

"Kill him!" "Kill him!" "Kill him!"

The citizens of King's Landing unanimously chanted below, eagerly anticipating the beheading of the former Duke of Casterly Rock, elevated above them.

Hidden within the crowd, Jaime Lannister, referred to as 'Jaime of the East' here, gripped the hilt of his sword, his body involuntarily trembling. He was so deeply affected that his fingernails pierced the skin of his palms, with blood dripping onto the ground unnoticed.

Jaime watched with horror as his father was brought to the execution block. He desperately wanted to draw his sword and save him. However, logic dictated otherwise. He chose to heed his brother's advice, realizing that rushing forward would not only fail to save his father but would also endanger himself.

"I'm sorry."

Up on the platform, Tyrion seemed unable to bear the sight. He hopped down from his chair, turning his back to the scene with the excuse of needing to use the restroom. Beside him, Petyr Baelish, the Governor of the Vale, sipped from his wine cup, his gaze following the 'Imp', lost in thought.

Far away in the Red Keep, Cersei, dressed in plain servant attire, bore the traces of her toil. To survive in the Red Keep and for the sake of her two children and her unyielding ambition, Cersei chose to forsake her former status as queen, seeking to establish herself from scratch within the keep.

While many positions in the Red Keep required maids, Cersei's abundant breast milk would have made her an ideal wet nurse. However, due to her unique status, she was forbidden from approaching the royal nursery. Thus, she now worked as a laundress. Despite her fall from grace and the absence of her youthful beauty, at 28, Cersei's allure remained unparalleled, perhaps even more captivating.

Now, she stood atop a tower in the Red Keep, gazing down at the execution grounds. Aware that today was the day of judgment, she was confined to the keep and could only watch from afar. From this distance, she could barely discern her father being led to the block.

The executioner took a hearty swig of strong liquor, then cast aside the bottle, drawing his blade. Against the backdrop of the blazing sun, the blade came down swiftly. Tywin's head fell, eliciting roaring cheers from the crowd. Cersei, from her vantage point on the tower, had tear-filled eyes that overflowed as she whispered, "Father..."

Surrounded by the jubilant crowd, 'Jaime of the East' was drowned in the cheers celebrating Tywin Lannister's demise. Some even spat at Tywin's severed head. But he alone clenched his fist, tears streaming down from beneath his disguised visage.

The soldiers, amid the noisy crowd, gave no regard to the emotions of the Lannister siblings. One of the Unsullied picked up Tywin's head on the tip of his spear, while two others dragged away Tywin's body, leaving a trail of blood, and placed it alongside the Mountain's corpse on a cart.

The execution of Tywin Lannister, who once betrayed the Targaryens during the Usurper's War, symbolized the seismic shift in the realm's ruling class. Among the major houses of the Seven Kingdoms, only Dorne and the North remained unchanged; the rest had new leaders.

The heads of Tywin and the Mountain were displayed atop the city walls as a warning to the nobles: this was the fate of those who betrayed the crown.

The atmosphere was jubilant among the commoners, as if they were at a grand feast, while the nobles felt a cold dread.

The power dynamics had shifted dramatically. The methods humans used against their foes became increasingly ruthless, leaving no room for mercy. Holding onto outdated beliefs could lead to catastrophic consequences.

Within the dungeons, Tywin, Eddard Stark, and other prisoners had been dealt with—some executed, others exiled. Only one major prisoner remained: Robert Baratheon, the former rebel leader and king.

The day after Tywin's execution, Viserys made an exception, allowing Cersei and her two children to visit Robert.

"I won't go, Ser Meryn," she began, declining with a forced smile. "Thank you for your kindness."

Washing clothes in the laundry room, the blonde maidservant appeared slightly displeased. Having wiped her wet hands on her dirty dress, Cersei continued, "I've already betrayed Robert, both physically and emotionally. In our final moments, there's no need to pretend."

Cersei, citing ill health, refused to visit Robert, but allowed Joffrey and Myrcella to see their father.

Under the guidance of an Unsullied soldier, the golden-haired boy entered the cell. Upon seeing his imprisoned father, Joffrey's eyes filled with tears.

"Father!" he cried. "Daddy!" echoed Myrcella.

Joffrey gripped the thick bars of the cell, noting the visible bends—a testament to Robert's failed attempts to escape using brute force. The cell, one of the most fortified in the realm, remained impervious.

The Unsullied opened the cell door, letting Joffrey and Myrcella in. Robert, with disheveled hair and lost in thought, was jolted awake by their entrance.

"Joffrey!" He stood, moving to embrace his children, tears streaming down his rugged face. Gently, he kissed Myrcella's forehead. "My daughter."

Within the cell, an emotional scene played out—a father and his children sobbing together. Outside, the Unsullied stood emotionless, spears at the ready.

Chapter 600: The Day of the Trial

On the day of the trial, the square beneath the Red Keep in King's Landing saw its largest gathering in history. Tens of thousands flocked there, causing traffic jams and overcrowding.

"Move back!"

"Move back!"

The gold cloaks, under the command of Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish and Commander-in-Chief, tirelessly dispersed the crowd exceeding the square's capacity. Yet, no matter their efforts, they couldn't quench the human nature of wanting to witness the spectacle. After all, humans are social creatures.

How many times in history had a king been put on trial? And this was not a trial for some lesser king of the Vale or the Riverlands, but a true ruler who once united the Seven Kingdoms.

The Baratheon dynasty had successfully overthrown a tyrant. Although, a decade later, many still derogatorily referred to Robert Baratheon as the 'Usurper', from a historical standpoint, he did seize the throne, establishing a short-lived reign.

Viserys divided the Targaryen reign into two epochs. Each epoch witnessed radical shifts in politics, economy, systems, and military. Besides the individual on the Iron Throne, there were no similarities.

The later kingdom not only united the Seven Kingdoms but also established two vast territories overseas. Each was comparable to a region in Westeros. The kingdom spanned both coasts of the Narrow Sea, and its scale was expanding towards an empire. It wouldn't be long before that day arrived.

For Robert's trial, the public hearing had been halted for three days. The capital's defense forces were fully prepared, but the spectators exceeded their expectations.

"Move back!"

"Everyone, halt!"

The capital defense troops formed a human barrier with their spears and shields, preventing more people from flooding the square below the Red Keep. They shouted until their voices grew hoarse.

Spectators, unable to get through the main route, found alternatives. They climbed trees or rooftops to get a distant view of the trial.

Noble men, ladies, and young misses with seats at the trial arrived early.

"Rubbish!"

"These people are insane."

Some were grateful they came early, as the morning traffic in King's Landing wasn't as congested, and their lodgings weren't far from the Red Keep.

After all, real estate in the city center was as valuable as in Pentos. Not every noble could afford the high rent. So, under the guise of 'experiencing the common life', they resided on the outskirts of the core city area.

They set off early in the morning and, with the help of the capital defense forces, barely squeezed in. Arriving late would have consequences.

By royal decree, none could miss the trial without valid reason. Being 'stuck in traffic' wasn't an acceptable excuse, especially in front of the nation's elite.

This would shame their entire family. The young lords feared this humiliation would tarnish their appeal to young ladies. Noble daughters, naturally, didn't want to mingle with the lowly masses.

However, this wasn't the experience for the highest echelons of nobility.

Their wealth had long since secured properties near the palace. Petyr Baelish, for instance, ran a brothel in King's Landing.

Its location was prime, not far from the Red Keep. Many visiting nobles and officials frequented Petyr's establishment.

The Tyrells of Highgarden also had businesses in King's Landing. While Viserys had seized their warehouses, he hadn't touched their foreign assets.

Their properties in King's Landing were open to other nobles, earning them considerable praise. Even Viserys heard of this, chuckling at the Tyrells' inability to stay out of politics.

But it was expected. Their expertise was in palace politics. The true nature of the prestigious Rose family.

"King Robert!"

"Whoring King!"

As Robert was brought forward, someone from the crowd jeered, and many joined in, erupting in laughter.

"Client King!"

A man close by mockingly said, "Heard you couldn't satisfy Queen Cersei, so you sought comfort in brothels."

"'Brave Robert!'"

Laughter echoed again.

Such crude jokes made the noble ladies in front roll their eyes. Ordinary women, there for the spectacle, distanced themselves, ashamed to stand with such folk.

Robert's face turned beet red, a mix of rage and embarrassment. He had never been humiliated like this, not even before he was king.

Robert Baratheon was then escorted to the stage, facing the current powerhouses of the Seven Kingdoms. Among them was a familiar face.

"Ned?"

Though Eddard Stark was in black, he was still in King's Landing, not yet departed for the North. With his father present, Robb Stark, the nominal Warden of the North, was serving wine beside Viserys.

Eddard Stark sat among the elite nobles, his expression uneasy. Beside him was the new Lord of Storm's End and Hand of the King, Jon Connington.

The grey-haired man wore the Hand's badge on his left and the golden badge of Storm's End on his right, signifying his dual roles.

These badges, introduced in the new era, represented their statuses.

Beside him was Lord Tywin, representing the Westerlands, and Balon Greyjoy for the Iron Islands. Petyr Baelish, for the Vale, and the new lord of Riverrun, Geoffrey Bracken, donned the badge of Black Dragon Banner, differentiating them from the traditional Brackens.

The Black Dragon Banner symbolized the former flagship of Dragonstone, the Black Death. However, that ship had retired after a naval battle years ago.

Chapter 601: Public Resentment Boiling Over

Among the row of the highest nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, some sat upright, some looked playful, some crossed their legs casually, and some seemed lost in thought.

At the far edge sat Prince Quentyn Martell of Dorne, the youngest and not normally qualified to attend, but he was here representing his father, thus sitting at the far edge of the governor's row, next to his sister Queen Arianne Martell.

Prince of Dorne had a youthful face, continuously looking around, he wore a sand-yellow robe characteristic of Dorne, without any medals, only the sun emblem on his shoulder.

Doran Prince of Dorne indeed couldn't come to King's Landing due to his health; he hadn't left Water Gardens for many years.

Thus, he always sent his eldest son Quentyn to stay in King's Landing, firstly perhaps to help his sister somewhat, and secondly to solidify Dorne's position after the establishment of the new dynasty.

Facing Robert's puzzled eyes, Edd sitting on the platform had a slightly uncomfortable expression on his face. The Northerner moistened his dry lips, then lowered his head, not meeting the eyes of his good friend.

Being imprisoned in the dungeons of the Red Keep, Robert was almost ignorant of the outside world. His son Joffrey and daughter Myrcella didn't mention these things when they visited him the day before yesterday.

Robert thought Edd had died, or donned black and left King's Landing.

However, he never expected Edd to have the qualification to sit on the trial bench to witness his own trial? Isn't this a naked betrayal?

They had agreed to die together as good brothers, but unexpectedly, Edd chickened out secretly.

Robert's gaze was somewhat angry and also puzzled, but he didn't accuse, after all, the relationship between the two was like brothers, not real brothers but just like real brothers.

Both were foster sons growing up in the Vale, boasting and joking together in their youth, and after growing up, they did a grand thing together, overthrowing the great kingdom that ruled Westeros for nearly three hundred years.

So the relationship between the two was very good, and Robert would be happy for Edd to get a chance to live on. Of course, being happy for him didn't mean forgiving the betrayal.

Robert's gaze was like a knife, making Edd lower his head and remain silent.

He chose to kneel and plead guilty for the sake of his wife and children, but Robert wouldn't do so.

Edd's path was not for everyone to walk, his personal credibility was a guarantee, Robert, even if he knelt and pleaded guilty, he would not have a way to live, just like his father-in-law Tywin Lannister, the way to survive had been blocked, why lose face at the last moment of life? Might as well go to the seventh hell happily.

Robert was very clear about his positioning. He knew that he was a bastard in this life, enjoyed glory and wealth when alive, and should be punished in the seventh hell after death.

"Kneel!"

The voice of the Unsullied soldier escorting Robert was cold, wanting to force the former king to kneel, but Viserys waved his hand to stop them.

"Forget it."

"A king should not be insulted."

Actually, if you put aside the so-called family hatred, Viserys didn't hate Robert, even if the latter wanted to kill him very much. Maybe it was based on the goodwill from the previous life towards this hearty, straightforward fat man, Robert was very affable, very good at turning enemies into friends.

The joining of the Targaryen army to the human alliance and many Seven Kingdoms nobles to fight against the White Walkers was partly due to Robert's sincerity and Viserys' trust.

In fact, if the war of the human alliance against the White Walkers had not broken out after it ended, Robert didn't fall from his horse due to an arrow and fall into a coma, and the military power didn't fall into the hands of his father-in-law Tywin, perhaps the two armies wouldn't have turned against each other so quickly, and the civil war wouldn't have broken out instantly.

At that time, Robert wanted to negotiate with Viserys, discuss the possibility of the Targaryen army not attacking Westeros, but establishing a huge empire on the Essos continent instead.

After all, the Essos continent is vast, populous, and economically developed, there is no need to stubbornly fight for the Iron Throne.

However, Robert was shot in the chest by Lyanna Stark, military power fell into the hands of his father-in-law Tywin, and all the basis and slight possibility for negotiation were gone.

Tywin knew that once the Targaryen family gained power, they would not spare him, so he had to drag more people into the water to save the Lannister family. If only he resisted alone, it would be hard to support.

Tywin controlled the power of the human alliance and launched an attack on the Targaryen army, even using a huge crossbow to sneak attack and injure Balerion, successfully infuriating Viserys.

Then the human civil war broke out, the angry black dragon burned down Twin River City, destroyed the alliance's resistance, and eventually, this civil war swept every inch of the Seven Kingdoms, took nearly two years to complete the unification of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Humph—"

However, Robert didn't seem to appreciate Viserys' kindness. His hands and feet were still chained and stood in place, snorting coldly.

Actually, the trial of Robert was very simple, without the need for other accusers, just the fact that he was the leader of the rebel army and usurped the Iron Throne was enough to sentence him to death.

But the Minister of Justice was very competent, listed a long string of charges for Robert, and brought many witnesses to accuse King Robert.

Even many charges Viserys had never heard of, such as slaughtering civilians, robbing finance, forcibly taking civilian women, persecuting nobles, etc., but the most eye-catching one was Robert's squandering of the state treasury to the extreme.

Former Minister of Finance Petyr Baelish personally attended the trial to testify, Robert squandered the treasury to satisfy his own extreme material desires, so that the state could hardly operate, the economy was withered, and the living standards of the people were significantly reduced compared to the period of Mad King Aerys II.

It's funny that the Mad King, who was hated by all the Seven Kingdoms nobles, didn't cause great damage to the civilians, but the leader of the 'justice' side caused the most damage to the people.

"Termites!"

"Vampire!"

"Fat Pig King!"

If the prostitution king just now was just the people making noise, with the trial reaching now, it ignited the anger of the people.

Ordinary citizens of King's Landing don't understand the so-called 'economics', don't know why their living standards have gone downhill, but they can understand numbers and do simple addition and subtraction.

Millions of gold dragons are numbers they dare not even think of, but all were squandered by King Robert alone.

Especially when Petyr Baelish said it was the king's squandering that lowered their living standards, it made them even angrier. The scene was suddenly noisy, and public resentment was soaring.

The frightened Joffrey and Myrcella, who had the qualification to attend and sat in the front row, turned pale and looked terrified.

They never thought that their father was so unpopular among the people.

Their mother Cersei hurriedly hugged the two children to comfort their emotions, then stood up.

Chapter 602: The Final Witness

Robert's reign on the Iron Throne not only squandered the wealth accumulated by the Targaryen dynasty over generations but also incurred enormous debts in the name of the royal family to the Lannister and Tyrell families, the church, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and the Tarly Trading Company, amounting to several millions of gold dragons.

However, most of these creditors were dealt with by Viserys, and the remaining Tarly Trading Company did not dare to come to collect the debts.

At the trial assembly, the public resentment was bubbling over. People were vocally cursing the profligate King Robert. Yet, standing at the center, Robert Baratheon remained silent amidst the accusations, offering no explanations, enduring the public's wrath, and even the objects thrown at him.

At one point, the Gold Cloaks and the Unsullied soldiers had to step in to maintain order.

"Protect the prisoner!"

"Ah!"

At the command of the Unsullied commander, dozens of Unsullied soldiers formed a round shield wall around Robert to prevent him from being pelted to death.

Thud, thud, thud—

Objects continued to hurl against the shields, but the Unsullied, expressionless as machines, held firm.

"Everyone, cease!"

"Back off! Back off!"

"Arrest anyone who disrupts the order!"

Under the command of Brynden Tully, the capital defense forces dispersed the furious crowd away from the execution grounds, ensuring the order was not disrupted.

After some time, and after arresting a few instigators, the disturbance caused by the trial subsided.

However, any last shred of sympathy towards King Robert vanished, leaving only anger.

Robert himself remained silent throughout, acknowledging the mistakes he had made. Ever since his imprisonment, he had spent considerable time reflecting on the reasons for his downfall.

There were the wars, Tywin usurping military power during his coma, and his own reckless spending.

Had he not squandered so much gold on pleasure, but rather used it for the welfare of the nation, enhancing military strength, would the outcome of the wars have been different? Would he have not been on the losing side of the civil war, losing the Iron Throne, becoming a prisoner?

But now, reflecting on past mistakes was futile; there were no second chances.

Even given a chance to go back, Robert might not have changed, his transient enthusiasm would eventually give way to his old ways.

There were some changes in Robert after becoming king, but eventually, his true nature revealed itself.

Once the disturbance was contained and order restored, the Unsullied withdrew the shield wall, exposing Robert Baratheon once more.

"Get on with it, boy!"

Robert, standing in the center of the venue with heavy shackles on his hands and feet, his beard in disarray, looked up at Viserys impatiently on the platform.

"You want my head, don't you?"

He was tired of the trial and just wanted it to end.

However, at this moment, the final witness was ready to take the stand.

Sitting among the noble rows, the former queen Cersei, still dressed as a maid, chose to ignore the curious glances around her.

She stood up from her seat, crouched down, and embraced her children.

"Joffrey."

"Mother."

The golden-haired boy, his face still showing fear and traces of tears, was evidently terrified by the chaotic scene earlier. He feared that the angry crowd was going to devour his father, and maybe him and Myrcella too, as they were scorned as 'bastards.'

"Take care of your sister."

"Mother, where are you going?"

Joffrey asked fearfully, trying to grab his mother's dress, but Cersei wiped the tears from his face, stood up, and headed towards the witness stand.

On the other side, Robert, shackled in hands and feet, was furiously glaring at Viserys on the trial platform, cursing continuously, longing for a swift death. But at this moment, he saw the last witness approaching.

Robert turned his head and widened his eyes at Cersei, he didn't expect the last person to accuse him would be his queen.

"Cersei, you—"

"Why?"

The towering man with his beard now showing traces of gray, could not help but speak. His voice was low and hoarse, filled with bewilderment. He was already condemned, so why was Cersei delivering the most fatal blow?

"Have you forgotten, Robert?"

However, the golden-haired maid, raising her delicate chin, had red eyes, but she held back her tears.

"Did you ever love me? Even once?"

Robert had been visited by Cersei and their children shortly after being brought to King's Landing. Before parting, Cersei asked him a final question by the door.

She asked if Robert had ever loved her, but he shook his head and said no.

From that moment, Cersei gave up on Robert completely, with no lingering hopes.

Perhaps, the young lady of the Westerlands had once harbored dreams for her husband when she first married into King's Landing. After all, her husband was the great hero who overthrew the tyrant. But on their wedding night, Robert called out another woman's name while lying with her.

Cersei then turned her head towards the trial stand and began speaking.

"Your Grace, my lords."

As his wife, she accused Robert of several crimes and revealed some royal secrets. However, many of these had already been narrated by previous witnesses. Cersei repeated them, leaving many noble lords below the platform exchanging puzzled glances, wondering the reason for her testimony.

Yet, on the trial stand, some notable nobles already knew the reason.

They looked at Robert with sympathetic eyes, then turned their gaze to the two children. Ultimately, the children were innocent, merely sacrificial pawns in the adult game of love and hatred.

Chapter 603: Unveiling Secrets

"Your Grace, my lords and ladies,"

As many of the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms exchanged perplexed glances, unsure of the unfolding scenario, Cersei suddenly shifted her tone, directing her gaze towards the High Septon seated among the judges.

"High Septon,"

Clad in a modest yellow robe, donning a crystal crown, and so corpulent he could barely walk, the High Septon sat beneath the canopy of the judgement seat, seemingly lost in thought.

Suddenly hearing Cersei mentioning him, he was momentarily taken aback, but quickly regained his composure, clearing his throat to speak.

"Please, go on."

The Cersei of now was no longer the queen and couldn't be addressed as Queen Your Grace. Yet, calling her by her name directly seemed improper given her former status, hence the avoidance of personal address.

As the spokesperson for the gods above, the High Septon had discarded his worldly name, and thus had no other title but High Septon. To distinguish among them, titles like 'that Stonemason High Septon', 'that Fat High Septon', or 'the High Septon before the Fat one' had come into being.

"I wish to confess."

But Cersei seemed undeterred by the Fat High Septon's awkwardness. She looked up at the many ministers on stage, and once again smoothed her hair, tucking the golden strands behind her ears.

"I committed a... terrible mistake."

When Cersei spoke, she didn't turn her head to look at her husband, while Robert, shackled in hand and foot, stared blankly at Cersei, a sudden ominous feeling overwhelming him.

"Please, continue,"

The Fat High Septon, unsure of what Cersei intended to say, and sensing that a monumental revelation was imminent, sought assistance from Viserys seated far from him with a helpless glance.

However, the young silver-haired king was engaged in conversation with the princess next to him, oblivious to the High Septon's plea for guidance. Thus, the Fat High Septon had no choice but to brace himself and urge Cersei to continue.

But Cersei wouldn't have waited for his gesture anyway, as she proceeded to speak on her own accord.

"My husband betrayed me, just as you all said, referring to him as the 'Whoremonger King' or the 'John King'."

"All of King's Landing knows of my husband, King Robert's whoring escapades, betraying the marital vows of loyalty. I was humiliated, yet for the sake of the royal image, I had to feign ignorance and keep a smile on my face."

The beautiful former queen, now discussing this matter, could no longer hold back her tears, as they began to flow.

"Cersei,"

A maid who once served her couldn't bear the sight and handed her a handkerchief.

The tears of a woman, especially a beautiful one, hushed the Seven Kingdom nobles and commoners present, evoking a sense of pity in many, though how genuine these tears were, remained uncertain.

"If Cersei is to be released, I'd marry her and become the father to her children."

"Evidently, Cersei has proven her fertility, and being still young, she can bear more children. I hope she can give me a son,"

A knight from a lesser house with no castle shared his thoughts with his companion, his hair showing traces of grey. Having married twice before, both wives had succumbed to illness, leaving him childless.

Robert's face tightened, guilt surfacing amidst his rough, carefree demeanor. His transient remorse for his wrongdoings was evoked by Cersei's words, though it quickly dissipated.

He truly owed his wife an apology.

Yet, the blonde woman on the witness stand, upon receiving the handkerchief from her former maid, wiped away the tear stains on her cheeks. Seeing that her words had stirred the emotions of the nobles and commoners alike, she took a deep breath.

Though prepared, it took a great deal of courage to take this step, knowing well that there was no turning back. Cersei took another deep breath and continued.

"So, to retaliate against my husband, I too engaged in an illicit affair."

Wiping away her tears, Cersei dropped the bombshell.

"The man is my brother, the 'Kingslayer', Jaime Lannister!"

Cersei's revelation stunned the room into silence, which soon erupted into a cacophony of shock and disbelief.

The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, upon hearing this, were first taken aback, then burst into a whirlwind of whispers, while the citizens of King's Landing present were equally dumbfounded. Cersei and her brother? Did that not mean the king had been cuckolded?

Among those reacting quickly, their eyes immediately fell upon the two poor children seated in the front row of the nobility section.

They noticed the golden hair of Joffrey and Myrcella, and their eyes widened, realizing the truth in Cersei's words and the implications for these two children...

And the one most enraged was undoubtedly Robert, who had been unknowingly cuckolded for ten years, and now had it revealed in front of a grand audience, becoming the laughingstock.

"Cersei!"

"You whore! You harlot!"

His eyes were bloodshot, radiating a fury so intense it seemed to tear through Cersei, the fleeting remorse he felt earlier now completely replaced by rage.

Yet, Cersei seemed deaf to Robert's roars, not even sparing him a glance, a smile of vengeance curled on her lips.

Cersei's revelation sent shockwaves through the courtroom, igniting a flurry of chatter among the crowd. The City Watch soldiers felt the pressure, continuously shouting at the crowd to maintain order and not to move forward.

"Queen Cersei had an affair with her brother?"

"So, the rumors were true? It's said that Jon Arryn discovered this affair back in the day."

"Even Jon Arryn had summoned soldiers to surround Maegor's Holdfast in the Red Keep. If it weren't for Barristan Selmy intervening..."

The nobles kept whispering among themselves, amidst the chaos, a wandering knight from the Vale, 'Jaime Stone', stood with widened eyes, his bandaged hand gripping the hilt of his sword, never expecting Cersei to reveal the identity of the children in such a public setting.

"Cersei."

Jaime was dumbstruck as if struck by lightning. He had wanted to intervene and save his father the previous day, but restrained himself at the last moment. Today, if Viserys decided to execute Cersei, he would rush out and die alongside her without any hesitation.

But he never imagined such a development.

Cersei wasn't to be executed, Viserys had kept his promise to her, yet Cersei appeared as a witness at the trial.

The nobles and citizens of the Seven Kingdoms were in an uproar, with more slow-reacting individuals now also casting their eyes on the two children, noticing their golden hair.

"Yes,"

Standing on the witness stand, Cersei, having laid it all out, decided to go all in.

"Joffrey and Myrcella are not Robert's children, but children of Jaime and me!"

Chapter 604: Joffrey Waters

The ripple of shock that surged through the crowd upon Cersei's admission, despite many having already suspected the truth due to the golden hair of King Robert's children, Joffrey and Myrcella, was palpable. Even the nobles on the trial stand couldn't help but exchange whispers.

Many of the Seven Kingdom's dignitaries on the judgment seat were unaware of this truth until Cersei's sudden confession.

"Could this actually be?"

"Robert…"

Eddard Stark's seasoned face tightened as he looked towards his dear friend Robert, the complexity in his eyes undeniable. The revelation that Joffrey and Myrcella were not his children must have struck Robert hard. Eddard's mind drifted to Mya Stone in the Vale; although Robert had left behind his lineage, they were all bastards, none could carry his name.

"This is astonishing."

Meanwhile, the expression of astonishment on the face of Jeffrey Bracken, the Governor of the Riverlands, was quite evident. Having been busy exterminating bandits around Twin River Town, restoring the abandoned castle, and attending to duties in King's Landing upon return, he had no leisure to catch up on street rumors.

"Yes, Lord Bracken, this is the first time I'm hearing of this too,"

Petyr Baelish, the Governor of the Vale, clad in a black cloak and leaning back in his chair, chimed in, his voice clear and articulate.

"Queen Cersei does not belong to the noble true dragon bloodline, yet she bore two bastards."

"It seems Prince Joffrey and Princess Myrcella shouldn't bear the Baratheon name."

Aiming to foster good relations with the top nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, Baelish's path to ascendancy was somewhat peculiar, relying on betrayal. Unlike the others with family names and influence, the Baelish clan was rootless, making his footing more precarious.

"Indeed, poor children."

"What should be their surname then? Lannister?"

"Perhaps it should be Joffrey Waters."

Jeffrey Bracken, not quite savvy with the political machinations, engaged politely with Baelish. His focus had always been on naval leadership, having relinquished the post of Prime Minister out of exhaustion.

As Baelish and Bracken casually conversed on the stand, the majority of the attendees cast their gaze upon the two children.

As Lord of Twin River Town had pointed out, the most pitiable were these two children, who had done nothing to deserve this massive sin now looming over their heads.

Everyone looked at Joffrey and Myrcella, and the golden-haired boy, too, was momentarily blank, struggling to accept that the man he had called father all these years wasn't really his father. He was only holding onto his mother's instructions - to protect his sister.

"This scene seems familiar, Viserys,"

The brunette girl seated to the left of Viserys suddenly said.

"Hmm?"

Viserys was momentarily startled, then turned towards her.

"Don't you think he resembles you? We fled King's Landing just like that."

Renys pointed at Joffrey and Myrcella below, the boy holding his sister's hand, reminding her of how Viserys looked back then.

However, Viserys' situation was more dire; with only a handful of soldiers and countless people wanting him dead, his head bore a hefty bounty. Viserys and Renys, two children back then, were also caring for their infant sister Daenerys.

Viserys, a bit speechless at the comparison with Joffrey, retorted,

"No, not at all."

"Joffrey is not of my seed. Cersei was barely in her early teens when he was conceived."

His not-so-amusing sarcasm made Queen Arianne, seated to his right, burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.

At this moment, Robert, who had been the center of mockery and scorn, second only to the focus on Joffrey and Myrcella, spoke up.

"Enough."

His voice was deep, trembled, and oppressive, his breathing heavy, much like a dormant volcano ready to erupt.

His fists clenched, head slightly bowed making it hard to discern his facial expressions, but the chains binding his arms and legs trembled under the strain, resonating through the room.

"I said… enough!"

Robert had anticipated mockery and insults from his foes today, but he had resigned himself to death. In fact, he had been ready to die since his imprisonment and had earlier impatiently urged Viserys to get it over with.

Death didn't frighten Robert, but what he hadn't anticipated was this colossal surprise before his demise.

He had been cuckolded for ten years, the greenery on his hat was glowing bright, and the children he had raised for years weren't his, but bastards borne of Cersei and Jaime's adulterous affair.

In his trust, Robert had never suspected. Now, retrospecting, he realized that perhaps they had been rolling on his bed, exchanging special glances filled with affection right under his nose.

He had never wondered why both his children bore golden hair like their mother, while all other Baratheon family members, including his bastards, had black hair.

Robert Baratheon, albeit fallen, was once a king. His voice still carried a weight of authority, like a volcano on the brink of eruption. It evoked a sense of danger among the Seven Kingdom nobles, especially the war-hardened generals, who straightened up and toned down their expressions.

The cacophony around gradually subsided as everyone's attention now focused on Robert.

"Cersei."

"Stop it."

Robert Baratheon, head lowered, chains clanking, fists clenched, arms trembling slightly, and muscles on his shoulders taut, stopped Cersei.

On the other end, Cersei on the witness stand, hearing her husband's voice, turned her head. The smile of vengeance still curling on her lips, she was ready to continue her taunts.

However, seeing the state Robert was in, the words at the tip of her tongue suddenly halted, and she swallowed them back.

Chapter 605: In the Name of the King!

"Let it end here."

The surrounding uproar quieted down instantly. The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms ceased their murmurs, expressions of astonishment frozen on their faces.

Robert's husky and low voice sent a strong sense of danger surging through Cersei's heart—a feeling she had never before felt from her husband.

It seemed that if she spoke another word, not a knight in King's Landing could ensure her safety.

"You…"

Cersei involuntarily shrank back, her face showing a hint of apprehension.

At this moment, Robert finally lifted his head. His eyes, resembling copper bells, were filled with bloodshot veins, sending shivers down anyone who met his gaze.

However, he didn't look at Cersei but towards the judgment seat, scanning the familiar and unfamiliar faces seated there.

Their expressions carried mockery or pity towards him, but his eyes finally rested on the silver-haired young man.

Viserys had just shared a few casual words with his queen and niece, a smile still lingering on his face. Sensing Robert's gaze, he turned his head, interlocking his fingers on the table before him and leaning back against his chair, his smile gradually fading.

"I am willing to plead guilty, boy."

Robert, with his bloodshot eyes, brushed aside his messy hair and looked at Viserys, speaking word by word.

"Oh?"

"Robert, you're willing to plead guilty?"

The silver-haired youth on the judgment seat narrowed his eyes slightly upon hearing Robert's words.

"Yes, I plead guilty."

Robert stood still, his voice raspy. It was only then that people noticed the severe deformity of the shackles on Robert's hands and feet. The edges of the shackles were stained with blood, his wrists were bleeding, and the blood dripped onto the ground.

"The strength of King Robert…"

The surrounding nobles of the Seven Kingdoms couldn't help but gasp upon witnessing this scene.

Although everyone knew Robert as synonymous with strength, this sight was too horrifying. He nearly broke the shackles with his bare hands in a fit of rage.

On the other side, Cersei's face also showed disbelief, laden with fear. She was lucky her sixth sense was sharp enough to sense the danger, shutting her mouth in time.

Otherwise, had she continued speaking, no knight in King's Landing could have saved her, not even her lover, Jaime Lannister.

The commander of the Unsullied, Blackworm, and the commander of the city guard, Brynden Tully, both narrowed their eyes upon seeing this.

"Your Grace."

They both turned their heads towards Viserys, wondering whether they should take control of the prisoner and replace his shackles. However, Viserys raised his hand to stop them, not interrupting Robert's words.

"I admit, I overthrew the Mad King's reign, ended the Targaryen dynasty of three hundred years, usurped the throne, and killed Rhaegar Targaryen—the rapist who violated my fiancée!"

Robert spoke vehemently.

"I admit to killing women and children during the war, I admit to whoring around, squandering millions of gold dragons!"

"I am guilty!"

"But my only mistake was not exterminating the Targaryen family root and branch! Letting you live!"

"Had I killed you, I would still be the king!"

"My mistake was heeding Jon Arryn's words, 'Her father will contribute to the stability of the throne,' and marrying this whore!"

Robert pointed at Cersei standing beside him, making the blonde woman's face turn slightly pale.

She sensed Robert's emotions were out of control. She quietly tried to distance herself, fearing he might suddenly grab her and kill her.

At this moment, Cersei regretted provoking Robert too much. However, for the freedom of her two children, and even for her own survival, she had to publicly disclose the identities of Joffrey and Myrcella.

"I will not die for killing Rhaegar, the rapist!"

Robert's maniacal demeanor made the Unsullied soldiers and the gold cloaks present tense up.

"Halt—"

The Unsullied soldiers formed a circle, holding their spears and round shields, surrounding him.

"Take him down!"

Sitting beside Viserys, Renys heard Robert's outrageous words. Her face tightened, and she stood up from her chair, clutching the hilt of her Valyrian steel sword.

"I will kill him."

Since Viserys had promised her, she would personally execute Robert to avenge her father, Rhaegar.

The Unsullied rushed forward to subdue the crazed Robert, while Cersei had already fled to a safe distance, her face pale fearing accidental harm.

"I am the king!"

"You too are a king!"

"Boy!"

However, Robert, encircled at the center, still had his eyes filled with bloodshot veins. He ignored the sharp spears and shields around him, his gaze fixed on Viserys as he roared thunderously.

"Except for you!"

"No one here can judge me!"

"No one!"

Blackworm's cold eyes were about to order the capture of Robert, but was once again stopped by Viserys.

"Let him finish."

The silver-haired youth on the stage stood up, held Renys by the shoulder to let her sit down momentarily, his violet eyes looking at the crazed Robert Baratheon calmly as he spoke.

"Robert, how do you want me to judge you?"

Viserys' words made the Unsullied soldiers ready to subdue Robert pause.

And Robert, encircled at the spot, looked at Viserys standing on the stage as if he were neurotic. He stopped raging and instead burst into laughter.

His laughter was loud, his disheveled beard moving as his face turned red. He laughed until he was out of breath, coughing continuously before speaking with a resonant voice.

"I request the aid of the gods above!"

"In the name of Andal, Rhoynar, and the First Men, the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Robert Baratheon the First!"

Robert's maniacal words sent chills down the spines of everyone present.

"In the presence of the gods' spokespeople, the common folk of King's Landing, and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms!"

"I demand a trial by combat!"

"In the name of the king! Will you refuse?"

…

Robert's words left the tens of thousands in the trial court, along with the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, in utter silence. The breaths of all present seemed to stop as they turned their gaze towards the silver-haired youth on the judgment seat.

And Viserys stood on the stage, his face calm as he stared at Robert below, not uttering a word for a long while.

"Your Grace…"

On the other side, Petyr Baelish, the Governor of the Vale, stood up with a worried face, speaking quickly to dissuade.

"You are the king, you are the future of the kingdom, there's no need to risk your life for a loser…"

However, at this moment, Viserys suddenly let out an inexplicable chuckle. He ignored Littlefinger's words, turned, and walked down the stage, speaking to his attendant Robb Stark.

"Bring me my sword!"

Whoosh—

"Oohhh!"

The trial court, filled with tens of thousands of spectators, erupted into a deafening uproar.

"Yes! Your Grace!"

The red-haired young man, his face flushed possibly from excitement, hurriedly ran to fetch Viserys' sword upon hearing his words.

Chapter 606: Duel

"Your Majesty!"

"There's no need for you to fight personally! I am willing to fight on your behalf!"

The Kingsguard knight standing beside the king and queen, Mya with her Dragon-slaying sword, voiced her willingness.

Seated beside Viserys, Ylaine's face changed colors as she knew her husband, though sparing in his actions, was extremely skilled in combat. At sixteen, he easily defeated the infamous 'Mountain', Gregor Clegane, and later even captured the King of Giants.

"My love."

Ylaine, having grown up in the Water Palace, had never witnessed the battlefield nor seen Viserys in action. Worry tinged her words.

But Viserys only shook his head, gesturing dismissively with his hand.

"No matter."

To him, Robert was no threat. There was an enormous 'quality' gap between them, like an adult facing a child, a dragon facing a stag.

"Your Majesty."

Following that, Viserys descended from the judgment seat, and his attendant, the young man with auburn hair, fetched his sword.

Clack—

Viserys took the sheath, drew the blade Dusk a little to glance at it. The crimson blade exuded a cold, menacing aura, yet when held, it felt warm, enveloped in comfort. He sheathed the blade again.

"I'll help you don your armor."

Robb Stark offered, as the Unsullied soldiers brought Viserys' usual set of armor.

It was a set of Valyrian steel armor brought back from Valyria ruins, silvery-white and extremely thin, yet with astonishing defensive power. No regular blade could even leave a scratch on it, let alone breach it.

Viserys, having not been in wars for a long time, had kept this armor in storage, accumulating dust over time.

"No need."

Viserys shook his head slightly, handing Dusk back to Robb.

On the other side, with the help of Unsullied soldiers, Robert Baratheon was donning his armor.

Robert wore a Baratheon family armor, with a crowned stag emblem on the chest, and a stag-horned helmet.

Robert had worn this armor through many battles, killing Rhaegar on the battlefield. But later, due to his weight gain, he couldn't fit into it, leaving it at the Red Keep, from where it was seized.

Now, after over two years of torment, from the Wildling invasion to the war against the White Walkers, the civil war, and imprisonment, Robert lost much weight, regaining some semblance of his youthful figure, able to don this armor again.

"Your Majesty!"

"Kill him!"

"Kill him!"

Boom Boom Boom—

The surrounding war drums roared, fueling the fervent atmosphere. The common folk and nobles of the Seven Kingdoms eagerly watched, cheering on.

How many had ever witnessed a duel between kings?

Robert provoked Viserys, challenging him. As the victor, Viserys could have refused Robert's challenge and executed him directly.

However, Viserys accepted Robert's challenge, granting him an honorable death, pushing the atmosphere to its zenith.

With the help of Unsullied soldiers, King Robert donned his armor, while Blackworm stared coldly at him from a close distance. Facing the madness-like Robert Baratheon, Blackworm showed no fear, and Robert too stared back ferociously.

"You will die—"

Blackworm then coldly uttered these words to Robert in broken Common Tongue, nodding at his men before stepping back.

"Uh."

The Unsullied soldier handed Robert his customary war hammer, then stepped aside.

Boom—

At this moment, the bells in the trial arena resonated abruptly, signaling the imminent duel.

The clamor from the masses and the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms vanished instantly. All unrelated individuals retreated to the outskirts of the arena, every mouth sealed shut, eyes fixed on the two figures in the center.

"In the presence of the gods and honorable lords, we gather here—"

The pudgy High Septon on the judgment seat shakily stood, intending to utter some pre-duel prayers, but was cut off by a wave of Viserys' hand.

The horn echoed through the arena, choking the High Septon mid-sentence, who could only bow and sit back down.

The arena fell into complete silence, leaving only Viserys and Robert Baratheon.

Robert, donned in heavy black armor, a stag-horned helmet, and a crowned stag emblem on his chest, wielded his mighty storm war hammer.

On the other side, Viserys, without armor, wore a light battle robe, a gold-threaded, white velvet embroidered robe, tight leather trousers, and a jeweled belt.

Before the duel commenced, his attendant returned Dusk to him. Wearing black gloves, Viserys held Dusk in one hand.

His silver-gold hair freely flowed over his shoulders, his violet eyes calmly observing Robert Baratheon, appearing very relaxed, contrasting Robert's battle-ready stance.

"Will Viserys be alright?"

The young Queen of Dorne on the stage tightly gripped her dress, her face filled with concern.

"Robert seems much stronger."

Viserys' physique didn't seem very strong, but neither was it frail, similar to Oberyn's build. But when shirtless, one could see his well-defined muscles.

Robert, on the other hand, was much larger in comparison, akin to a tank.

"Combat isn't about who has stronger muscles; otherwise, it would lose its meaning."

"They could just strip and compare, right?"

On the other side, Ylaine's uncle, Oberyn, sat with his legs crossed, speaking calmly.

He was one of the calmest among the group on stage, and so was the lady knight Mya. Both had been battle-hardened mercenaries with extensive combat experience. High-level duels could be discerned simply by observing the combatants' stances.

"Just look at them standing together, the victor is apparent."

Viserys' composure was even more evident, while Robert seemed on edge, their contrasting attitudes reflecting their combat prowess, as facing a formidable opponent intensified one's emotions.

Both paced slowly in the arena, maintaining a distance.

"You must have wanted to kill me for a long time, Robert."

The silver-haired young man, holding his sheath, looked at Robert, then abruptly asked.

Chapter 607: Secrets

"After all, I was acquainted with many assassins bearing the name of Robert Baratheon from a young age."

"Murder, poison, cold arrows, they employed every trick in the book."

"They claimed that upon my death, the castles across the Seven Kingdoms were theirs for the taking."

Viserys's words made Robert's face twitch subtly. Though he cared little for reputations, sending assassins for a child still cast a dark shadow upon his honor.

"Indeed!"

Unable to contain himself, Robert roared in a deep voice, launching himself at Viserys.

"How I wish I had slain every cursed spawn of the dragons!"

Robert Baratheon charged forward, fury in his eyes, swinging his warhammer with the intent to crush Viserys's head, much like he did with Balon Swann, shattering his skull with a single blow.

Robert once thought Rhaegar to be his mortal enemy, stealing his betrothed, pushing him to the brink. Little did he know, it was the unnoticed brother beside Rhaegar who would become his real nightmare.

Facing the fierce King Robert, Viserys's evasion appeared effortless, seemingly anticipating Robert's moves. As he sidestepped, the hefty warhammer thundered against the ground.

Boom—

The metallic clash against the earth was deafening.

Undeterred, Robert dragged his storm warhammer and attacked Viserys once more.

The heavy warhammer swept across, aimed to break bones— a signature of Robert's battle style. As he gained momentum, his attacks resembled a raging tempest.

"Die!"

Whoosh~

Robert's warhammer swung with ferocious momentum, yet once again, Viserys dodged with ease.

The silver-haired youth didn't draw his sword. He dodged and circled behind Robert, smacking his antlered helm with the pommel of his sheathed blade.

Crack—

His helm was sent flying, landing with a clatter that echoed through the field, stirring gasps amongst the onlookers.

"Is that all, Robert?"

"People hailed you as the unparalleled warrior, the demon of the Trident, the most valiant knight across the lands."

Disappointment crossed Viserys's face. He had expected more from Robert, yet compared to the Giant King, Robert seemed lacking. However, a mythic creature was one thing, Robert Baratheon was but a mortal king.

"Enough of your chatter, boy!"

Robert, now disheveled, took a moment to catch his breath, then tightened his grip on his warhammer, his voice booming.

"When I battled your brother Rhaegar, you were probably still suckling at the breast!"

Viserys stood afar, his sword, Twilight, remained sheathed. This was not a battle, but a one-sided mockery.

Robert was more a warrior than a king. He yearned to die standing, as a warrior should, thus he challenged Viserys, who was more than willing to indulge him.

Robert knew deep down, he stood no chance against Viserys. The cold sweat trickling down his forehead was a testament.

He had sensed it from the first exchange; the fact that Viserys had yet to unsheathe his sword was telling.

"You despise Rhaegar because he took your betrothed?"

"Lyanna Stark of Winterfell?"

Silence fell upon the battlefield. The silver-haired youth showed no sign of attacking; his eyes filled with pity as they met Robert's, then he spoke.

"Indeed!"

"Rhaegar took and raped Lyanna. He was a rapist!"

"I had every reason to kill him!"

With a few heaving breaths, Robert lunged forward, attacking once more, his warhammer crashing down.

Clang—

But this time, a dull metallic clang resonated as Viserys parried the attack with his sword's sheath, seemingly effortless.

"No, you're wrong, Robert."

Viserys, upon hearing Robert's words, only shook his head slightly.

"Rhaegar didn't abduct or rape Lyanna Stark."

With a forceful push, he sent the mighty King Robert staggering back, stumbling several steps before regaining his footing.

Robert stood there, warhammer in hand, a look of astonishment painted across his face, as if he had seen a ghost.

Gasps echoed from the Seven Kingdoms' nobles and commoners who had gathered to witness the duel between kings.

Though they were aware of King Viserys's prowess in combat, having allegedly saved the world in rumors, King Robert's strength was also a sight to behold.

They had envisioned Viserys triumphing over Robert with his exquisite swordsmanship and agile combat techniques, but none had imagined Viserys could fling Robert aside as though he was a mere chicken!

"In light of your impending demise, I shall reveal the truth to you, so you may die with clarity."

Thud—

Viserys tossed Robert aside as if he was tossing a small chicken, his sword remained sheathed. Placing the hilt of his sheath on the ground, dust swirled around him.

At the stands, Eddard Stark, clad in black, had been wholly engrossed in the duel of his dear friend.

"The truth?"

Seeing the unfolding situation, Eddard, skilled in combat, knew Robert stood no chance. As sorrow engulfed him, Viserys's words struck a chord, prompting an uneasy feeling.

"It can't be."

It was his most guarded secret, shared only once with his wife when death seemed imminent before the battle at Winterfell.

"Lyanna Aunt? The truth?"

Among the Stark offspring present—Robb, Sansa, Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy, and even Bran, hardly heard their father speak of Aunt Lyanna. The mention of truth by Viserys sparked their curiosity.

"In truth, Rhaegar didn't abduct or rape Lyanna Stark. Theirs was a 'mistaken love.'"

"Rhaegar was smitten with Lyanna, and she, infatuated with him. They were genuinely in love…"

The nobles of the Seven Kingdoms exchanged puzzled glances.

"It can't be!"

Upon hearing Viserys's revelation, Robert was engulfed in rage, trembling as he lunged at Viserys once more.

But this time, Viserys showed no mercy.

Clang—

Twilight unsheathed, severing Robert's warhammer, then pierced through his chest in a swift, fluid motion.

Squelch—

Blood splattered as the Stag's armor crumbled like paper under the might of Twilight.

"What?"

The events unfolded so rapidly that many among the Seven Kingdoms' nobility couldn't grasp the reality—King Robert had been defeated by Viserys. Some noblewomen couldn't help but scream at the horrific scene.

"Good heavens."

Moments ago, the fierce King Robert had been reduced to a defeated foe in the blink of an eye by Viserys's retaliation.

"Lyanna even bore Rhaegar a child, which she entrusted to his brother Eddard to raise."

Viserys knelt beside Robert, whispering the truth only to him, then turned his gaze elsewhere.

"Jon Snow."

Chapter 608: The Death of Robert

Robert Baratheon was no more.

In the duel, he was defeated by the younger and stronger new king. Sometimes, the rules of mankind mirror the law of the jungle among animals—survival of the fittest.

After successfully seizing the Iron Throne, Robert did not earnestly govern the realm beneath his feet. Instead, he quickly succumbed to decadence, squandering recklessly, and ultimately met his end in a duel of kings on the battlefield.

With a single stroke, Viserys shattered his warhammer, much like his turbulent yet grandiose life, and with a backhand thrust, pierced Robert's chest, ending his life as his body fell into a pool of blood.

Yet, before Robert's last breath, Viserys chose to reveal the truth to him.

The goddess he had yearned for did not fancy him; his so-called love was but a pitiful unrequited affection. Even worse, his beloved eloped with another, bearing a child for him.

Of course, it was a simple choice.

Between a coarse man known for his drinking, whoring, and foul mouth, and a prince with a face capable of capturing the hearts of maidens across the Seven Kingdoms—graceful, talented, and a martial arts expert.

On horseback, a knight unmatched across the realms; off horseback, a harpist playing tunes that could bring one to tears.

It was an easy choice for anyone, especially if they were Lyanna Stark.

Before the sword pierced through Robert's chest, he did not believe Viserys' words. Yet, as the sword tore through his chest and Viserys whispered the truth into his ear, Robert turned his gaze towards a confused brown-haired young man.

He saw a familiar reflection on the young man's face.

Jon Snow's eyebrows were delicate, his eyes lively, much like the girl who stole his heart at first sight. She too had such a pair of grey eyes.

The contour of the young man's face was strikingly similar to his eternal foe, especially when he turned his face sideways.

Without Viserys' reminder, the careless Robert might never have noticed that his good brother Eddard Stark's bastard bore the perfect blend of Rhaegar and Lyanna's features.

This was the child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna!

Seeing this child, Robert finally believed the truth Viserys had told him. The belief he had held all along crumbled. The Targaryen family he had relentlessly pursued to exterminate did not kill Lyanna; the real culprit was he himself.

Rhaegar and Lyanna were truly in love, while he was merely an irrelevant passerby. Upon realizing this, Robert's body shivered involuntarily, perhaps due to a muscle spasm before death, or the unbearable anguish of the truth.

His eyes were filled with blood, and his mouth spewed blood that stained his beard. His gaze was fixed on Eddard Stark standing on the platform.

Ned's expression was complex. He took a deep breath and lowered his head, unable to meet Robert's gaze.

Viserys did not reveal the truth to mock Robert; he had a certain respect for him. Robert had shown no retreat in the war against the White Walkers, bravely resisting the army of the dead, fulfilling a king's duty. He was a worthy opponent.

In the end, Viserys assured Robert that he need not worry about what lay behind him; his wife and children would be taken care of.

"Cough, cough—"

As Robert Baratheon lay on the ground, his chest heaved like a broken bellows, coughing up blood.

He heard Viserys' words and, using the last of his strength, turned his head to look at a boy standing behind Viserys' seat on the platform.

The boy had black hair, blue eyes, a round and honest face, and a sturdy physique. He was holding a wine jug, pouring wine for Queen Arianne, unaware of Robert's gaze upon him.

"Gendry."

As an incompetent father, Robert learned the boy's name from Viserys.

For some reason, he was willing to believe that Viserys wasn't deceiving him.

A man who had but a breath left.

And Robert could tell at a glance, this was his son, a spitting image of him when he was young.

Subsequently, Robert watched the bustling figure of the boy on the platform, mumbling his name, perhaps regretting not treating his bastard and their mothers better on his deathbed. After all, this was his true flesh and blood, whereas Joffrey and Myrcella were someone else's children.

In his final moments, Robert's pale lips trembled, whispering a thank you to Viserys in a voice so faint he himself could barely hear, then took his last breath, his eyes finally closing.

Robert Baratheon died on the dueling ground, yet the arena fell into a solemn silence, with no nobles or commoners of the Seven Kingdoms cheering, only the silence of death prevailing.

Whoo—

Then, someone initiated applause, followed by everyone else rising to their feet, clapping.

The applause was for the spectacular duel, for the victorious King Viserys, and also to bid farewell to King Robert Baratheon.

Viserys withdrew the sword from Robert's chest, cleaned the blood off with a silk cloth, and threw it on the ground. He then handed Twilight back to his squire, Robb Stark.

"Robb."

"Your Grace."

The red-haired young man received Viserys' sword, holding it earnestly in his arms, watching as King Robert's corpse was placed on a stretcher.

"What does Robert's story teach us?"

"I—I don't know."

Robb Stark hesitated, then after a thoughtful pause, still found himself at a loss.

"Sycophants meet an untimely end."

"Remember, never be a sycophant."

"Give Robert Baratheon a dignified burial."

Viserys patted the young man on the shoulder, reminding him once more before turning to leave.

The death of the former King Robert Baratheon on the dueling ground symbolized the conclusion of the public trial that spanned half a month.

His body was buried on a small hill outside King's Landing facing the sea, but the drama left behind at the scene of the public trial had yet to end.

There was a lot of chatter about the self-exposure of former Queen Cersei, but the most pitiful were the two children.

The council argued whether Joffrey and Myrcella should bear the name Lannister or Hill, or Waters, and it was certain that the Baratheon name would be stripped as neither was King Robert's child.

Had the Lannister family still held power, they might have fought for the children's name rights.

But now, with the Lannister family extinct and Jaime and Cersei having never made a sacred vow before the gods, the children were products of an illicit affair.

In the end, according to the principle of bastards bearing the name of their place of birth, Viserys issued a royal decree stripping Joffrey and Myrcella of their titles as prince and princess, and their Baratheon surname. They were renamed Joffrey Waters and Myrcella Waters.

Chapter 609: A New Expedition

The morning sun shone brightly, its glare intense enough to necessitate a squint when one looked towards the horizon from horseback.

At the Gates of the Gods in King's Landing, it was through these grand gates that Cersei had initially surrendered the city. Now, these gates were bidding farewell to the soldiers about to embark on their expedition.

Clip-clop, clip-clop. The sound of hooves echoed on the cobblestone streets.

"Halt!"

A squad of knights in shining armor approached the edge of the city gates, reigning in their warhorses. Leading them was a knight whose face bore the marks of many a harsh winter. Clad in black with a metallic direwolf badge pinned to his left chest, his once dark brown hair now intermingled with strands of gray.

The knight stood by the city gates of the capital, observing the ceaseless flow of people coming and going, a mix of melancholy and reflection welling up within him.

The last time they entered this city, they were leaders of the rebel army. But now as they depart, their identity had shifted. He had become a basic soldier of the Night's Watch, setting forth to reclaim their homeland and the Wall.

Despite the numerous ordeals they had faced, the city remained the same with its three hills standing tall amidst the flatlands.

The flags bearing the three-headed dragon fluttered atop the city, a symbol of authority, magnificence, and awe-inspiring might. The realm was on the rise, forged in fire and blood, now known across both sides of the Narrow Sea as a burgeoning powerhouse set to dominate all quarters.

And this knight was none other than the former Duke of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. He stood at the inside of the Gates of the Gods, waiting for the arrival of the main forces, glancing back at the Red Keep atop Aegon's High Hill, with many thoughts crossing his mind.

The months had flown by swiftly, and a new year in the kingdom had arrived—Aegon's 295th year, the third year of the new calendar. Perhaps due to the inconvenience of changing calendars, the people of King's Landing had started keeping track of both, while those outside the capital mainly stuck to either the Aegon or Conqueror calendar.

Upon seizing the Iron Throne, Robert had renamed the Aegon calendar to the Conqueror calendar. Over the span of a few years, the transition from Aegon to Conqueror and then to the new calendar had indeed posed a challenge for the common folk of the Seven Kingdoms with limited education.

However, this issue would eventually be resolved as time wore on.

At present, the kingdom was recuperating and rejuvenating. The causeway across the Neck had been completed with the efforts of the entire nation, making it capable of accommodating a large army. Coupled with the interest-free loans from the Iron Bank of Braavos, the Iron Throne and the Small Council, after deliberations, had issued a royal decree a month ago.

It was time to launch the campaign to reclaim the North from the clutches of the dead.

This time, the soldiers mobilized were the former armies of the North. However, their command had changed. The new policies of the realm did not permit nobles to command forces exceeding their private army limits. Hence, all Northern forces were now under the command of a corps independent of the kingdom's military structure.

The Night's Watch.

Several years had passed since the war against the White Walkers, which for humans felt like a long time, but for the White Walkers might have been merely a halftime rest, a brief retreat to gather strength before returning with a vengeance.

To prepare for future wars, the Iron Throne proposed the 'Great Night's Watch Plan.'

This plan aimed to expand the size and personnel of the Night's Watch, restoring this legendary corps to its former glory to face the wars against the White Walkers. This proposal was in harmony with the distinct customs of the North.

Northerners were highly xenophobic, disliking outsiders governing them. And under the new policies, nobles were not allowed to retain private armies. The realm had no intention of granting special privileges to Northern nobles like those in Dorne. So, all soldiers were conscripted under the command of the Night's Watch.

Apart from the convicts sent over, the other Northern soldiers did not have to take the harsh oaths. They were allowed to return home to marry and have children after serving for a few years, serving as peripheral soldiers of the Night's Watch.

In the series of new policies from the Iron Throne and the Small Council, the current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, unexpectedly emerged as one of the biggest winners.

Once, he had to run around for a few convicts, pleading on their behalf. But now, with a royal decree, he had suddenly become one of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms.

However, he knew well that as swiftly as this power had come, it could be taken away just as fast.

At his age, he understood the power struggle implicit in these developments. With a single decree, the Iron Throne could elevate him to great heights or reduce him to nothing.

His power was illusory, unlike the supreme power of the Iron Throne that could shake the Seven Kingdoms with a single word, turning the world upside down.

Therefore, besides feeling elated, Jeor Mormont suppressed the fire of arrogance in his heart, became more cautious, focused on fulfilling his duties, and refrained from asking or thinking too much.

Even when countless nobles came knocking at his door, paying visits in the wake of the royal decree, they were all turned away.

"Father!"

At this moment, a horse galloped down the main avenue of King's Landing, and the rider dismounted.

"Robb."

Thud—

The one who came to bid Eddard farewell was his eldest son, Robb Stark. Eddard jumped down from his horse, and father and son embraced tightly.

"How did you manage to come here?"

After releasing his son, Eddard ruffled Robb's auburn hair, inquiring.

"His Grace allowed me to bid you farewell."

Robb Stark seemed a bit discontented as his father messed up his hair, immediately shrinking back.

"Hmm."

Eddard nodded, glanced at the Red Keep in the distance, and seeing his son dodge, a smile crept on his face.

"What's the matter, Robb?"

"Now that you're the Governor of the North and Lord of Winterfell, you won't let your father touch your head?"

A few months had passed, the calendar had changed, and Eddard had emerged from the sorrow of Robert's recent death. Life had to go on, and his spirits had lifted considerably.

"Of course not! Father!"

Robb immediately retorted, refusing to admit that he now cared more about his image since he had grown a year older.

After all, King's Landing was filled with high-born ladies, and as the Lord of Winterfell, he needed an heir. At a previous banquet, while following Viserys, he had accidentally encountered Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden and was utterly smitten.

Seeing his son's slightly distracted demeanor, Eddard's smile faded slightly. Although he didn't voice his concerns like Catelyn did, as a father, he too worried for Robb.

Historically, members of the Stark family who ventured south often met grim fates, including himself.

He patted Robb's shoulder once again, his tone solemn.

"I'll wait for you in the North, Robb."

"Hmm!"

Robb looked at his father and nodded firmly.

Chapter 610: The Rebellion of Stonehelm

Thump—Thump—

Thump—Thump—

Thump—Thump—

Punctual as ever, the bells of King's Landing rang out, followed by the melodious sound of trumpets.

The endless army of the Night's Watch began their journey towards their homeland amid the watchful eyes of many, accompanied by countless individuals who bid them farewell. Among them were mostly the Northerners exiled in King's Landing, their eyes filled with tears as they bid goodbye to the army departing towards their homeland, hoping they would reclaim it from the dead soon.

However, the local populace of King's Landing seemed rather disinterested. They had little interest in knowing what was happening in the distant North. For most, they would perhaps never leave the lands they stood upon in this lifetime, let alone concern themselves with the dead roaming at the world's end.

During the time when the army of the dead had massively invaded, they might have been scared out of their wits, feeling as if the end of the world was near. However, the dead were ultimately halted at the Twins.

The Night's Watch army marched northward along the Kingsroad, and as they passed the small hill where Robert Baratheon was buried outside the city, Eddard detached himself from the group.

"Robert."

He rode his warhorse up the small hill, paid his respects to his old friend, had a brief conversation with Robert, poured out a pot of good wine, and then, facing the sunset above, galloped to catch up with the troops.

The expedition of the Night's Watch to the North was a significant event in the new dynasty. The kingdom was now stable but still had not entirely emerged from the gloom; there were many matters yet to be resolved up and down the realm.

Viserys was not too worried about the expedition of the Night's Watch. The power of the old gods primarily involved traversing the past; however, occasionally, he could glimpse a bit of the future. Unfortunately, he couldn't see it all, merely traces and hints.

That's why Viserys couldn't be a complete seer, understanding past, present, and future. He could only get a glimpse, deducing the future's trajectory and development from the scant details he had.

According to the current situation, the expedition of the Night's Watch to reclaim the North had not met much resistance.

What remained in the North were only scattered wights. Without the command of the White Walkers, relying solely on barbarism and ferocity, they might deal with scattered mercenaries, but could not stand against a well-formed army. The army, nominally the Fifth Army of the kingdom but actually a more independent Night's Watch, only needed to deploy and push forward to reclaim their homeland.

The night outside was tranquil.

The Red Keep, standing atop Aegon's High Hill, was the commanding height of the whole King's Landing. Among it, the Maegor's Holdfast, serving as the royal bedroom, was the tallest. The king's bedroom was extremely spacious, with elegant and exquisite furniture, a huge soft feather bed, valuable porcelain vases on the table, and gorgeous drapes and window veils fluttering with the wind.

Viserys was sitting in front of the desk at the moment, facing the balcony extended outwards, enjoying the sea breeze, with one finger extended, lost in thought.

"What are you thinking about?"

"My love."

His beautiful queen of Dorne was lying on their soft bed, naked but covered with a thin transparent veil, her legs raised and entwined together, turning her head to look at her husband before she spoke.

She had been watching Viserys for a long time, as he had been lost in thought, wondering what was on his mind.

"Are you perhaps thinking about the situation in Stonehelm?"

Not long ago, a rebellion occurred in Stonehelm. Count Gullian Swann, dissatisfied that his last heir, Balon Swann, was killed by Robert in a trial by combat, believed that the Iron Throne should have spared his son and thus initiated a rebellion.

Gullian Swann first hosted a grand banquet, inviting many nobles from the Stormlands to participate. However, unfortunately, only a few who lived not far from Stonehelm arrived—Count Lester Morrigen of Crow's Nest, Lady Marie Mertyns of Mistwood, Count Alexander Staedmon of Broad Arch, and some other nobles of the Stormlands.

During the banquet, Gullian Swann suddenly cursed Viserys aloud, calling him a tyrant who violated the sacred rights of nobility, urging the Stormland nobles present at the banquet to join him in resisting Viserys.

However, the other Stormland nobles were startled by Gullian Swann's sudden madness. Now the spies of the Internal Affairs department were omnipresent. They had experienced it in King's Landing, even knowing the color of their underwear.

They feared being implicated by Gullian Swann, so they hurriedly tried to leave the banquet but were detained by the mad Count Swann.

Then Gullian Swann issued a final ultimatum to these detained nobles, demanding all Stormland nobles to join his rebel army to jointly resist Viserys's rule.

He even crazily declared that the Rainwood had become independent. If that young ghost Viserys wanted his head, he should personally ride his dragon to burn down this vast forest.

Unless all the trees were burnt down, any soldiers breaking in would be killed by the soldiers of Stonehelm.

However, the rebellion in Stonehelm actually happened three months ago, but the news only reached King's Landing two months ago, naturally because the news from Rainwood was too isolated. The reach of the Internal Affairs department was still limited to the royal domain, not stretching too far.

Then, embarrassingly, before the Iron Throne could personally send troops to quell the rebellion, this drama ended.

It turned out that the Onion Knight, Davos Seaworth, who was responsible for inspecting the kingdom's customs, happened to lead dozens of border inspection soldiers by ship to Stonehelm not long ago.

They discovered the unrest in Stonehelm, that the Swann family had begun to gather soldiers, having more than the allowed limit of private soldiers, and were sweeping through the Rainwood.

The Onion Knight was trapped in the Rainwood and couldn't leave, so he was forced to hide. However, eventually, leading a few dozen of his capable men, they seized an opportunity to burst into Stonehelm and killed Count Gullian Swann, quelling the rebellion.

Due to the new policy, the noble's armies were downsized and incorporated, so the soldiers hastily recruited during the Stonehelm rebellion were mostly local farmers with no combat strength. This allowed the Onion Knight to seize the opportunity and quell the rebellion.

However, it's worth mentioning that after the Onion Knight broke into Stonehelm, he also killed several prisoners detained by Gullian Swann—Count of Crow's Nest, Lady of Mistwood, etc.

Davos claimed that they had already surrendered to the Swann family, so he killed them.

And these people happened to be among the three nobles who had occupied Griffin's Roost a year ago when Stannis was assassinated. Davos avenged his former liege lord in passing.

Chapter 611: Golden Flames

The rebellion at Stonehelm was but a minor episode for the new dynasty, barely causing ripples beyond its vicinity. However, it showcased the dire state the nobility found itself in under the new regime.

Even in King's Landing, only Jon Connington offered apologies to Viserys, for his lax governance of the Stormlands had let this minor mishap occur.

Yet, the effortless quelling of this rebellion was, strictly speaking, a fluke. The nobility, albeit suppressed, was not so weakened as to be bested by roaming bandits or the Brotherhood. The real reason behind the ease of this suppression was that the newly recruited soldiers at Stonehelm lacked battle prowess. Most had been dispatched to assault nearby castles, leaving Stonehelm significantly undermanned.

Moreover, with the awakening of national consciousness and the suppression of noble power, even the common soldiers knew about the Iron Throne, the Young Dragon, Viserys I, and the dragons. They were reluctant to follow Gullian Swann in rebellion, yet, the shift in allegiance wasn't something that could occur overnight. Following one's liege lord into battle was a tradition upheld for thousands of years. Although they were unwilling to follow Gullian Swann in rebellion, they dared not openly defy him either.

"Kill!"

So, when the Onion Knight, with a menacing expression, led his men into the city, they found little resistance.

Everyone just stood there, watching as a few dozen men stormed into the city, ended the life of their noble lord, and scattered thereafter, marking the end of this affair.

Viserys, upon hearing Yara's words, hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

"No, not that."

"I was thinking about other matters."

He then looked at his fingertip where a translucent, ethereal golden flame burned. However, Yara paid it no mind. The flame illuminated nothing around it, and Viserys had discovered it could not even light a candle.

This small flame seemed to be isolated from this world, burning serenely, unaffected by any breeze. Nothing in this world could affect it, save for Viserys.

It seemed as though Viserys was the sole medium connecting this flame to the world.

Witnessing the small flame burning at his fingertip, Viserys felt a hint of astonishment in his heart, though his face betrayed nothing. Being a king for so many years, countless eyes scrutinized even the subtlest expressions on his face, hence Viserys had long learned to keep a stoic visage.

"What is this thing?"

Viserys furrowed his brow, pondering deeply. He had no idea where it came from or what its purpose was.

This flame appeared while Viserys was in the Red Keep's garden, meeting envoys from Naath. They were strolling when suddenly, Viserys perceived the existence of this flame.

The Naathi, having heard of a great empire rising in the distant west and especially who ruled it, had sent envoys across vast distances to King's Landing.

Naathi were the most peace-loving race in the world. Their kindness earned them the title of 'People of Peace' among sailors.

They cherished music, detested war, and bloodshed, extending their compassion even to animals and trees, subsisting only on fruits and vegetables. Yet, their benign nature had become a curse, attracting numerous slavers and robbers to Naath.

For a brief period, they were under the protection of the Valyrian Freehold. But with its collapse, they once again became a hub for slave trade, exporting unique spices, exquisite wines, handcrafted goods, and silk.

So, when they learned of the resurgence of a Valyrian descendant, they rushed to seek protection once more.

They had sought aid from House Targaryen before, but sadly, Maegor Targaryen offered them nothing substantial, merely gifting them some gold and silver before sending them away.

Yet, after hundreds of years, they returned, seeking aid from the new king, Viserys.

Unfortunately, due to the inherent 'Butterfly Fever' on Naath, Viserys was unable to assist them, even though he wished to.

It was a vile disease, believed to be propagated by the butterflies, revered by the Naathi as emissaries of the 'God of Harmony' to protect the island's inhabitants. Any foreigners on the island would succumb to the disease within a year, a grim protection that had kept the Naathi from being exterminated.

Though he had to decline their plea, Viserys left them with a glimmer of hope, stating he'd consider dispatching fleets to nearby islands once the wars in the Seven Kingdoms ceased.

The young Naathi envoy was immensely grateful, offering profuse thanks before departing the Red Keep.

He and his siblings had arrived for this purpose, and now they took the opportunity to explore King's Landing. Naath had nothing comparable to such grand cities, only the Dragonglass remnants left by the Valyrians.

The Naathi's situation was a convenient matter for Viserys. In that moment, he saw it as an opportunity to extend his influence beyond the shores, hence he didn't outright refuse them, leaving them with some hope.

But what concerned Viserys the most was his own dilemma. The burden of a great kingdom rested on his shoulders. If anything were to happen to him, who knew how long the realm would stand?

He hadn't forgotten the dark mist that had escaped from the Valyrian ruins, the transformed ancient humans and various creatures, including the transformed dragons.

The bottomless pit beneath the remains of the old gods beyond the Wall, where he had grasped an obsidian spearhead to travel back to an unknown epoch, witnessing the ancient Children of the Forest and now-extinct creatures battling colossal fire-spewing worms.

The mystical veil of this world was yet to be lifted, including the dark mist within him that aided his growth. He knew not its true purpose, whether someday it might reveal its fangs. All these remained mysteries.

His gaze returned to the ethereal golden flame that had suddenly awakened.

"What exactly is it?"

Viserys couldn't figure it out for the moment. Having no mentors, he was like a blind man crossing a river, feeling his way through stones. These secrets awaited his gradual exploration.

Chapter 612: The Black God Cult

A few days later, the Night's Watch's northern expedition had passed through the Hog's Head, reaching the God's Eye Lake.

As night fell, a calm tranquility enveloped King's Landing. Since the outbreak of the war, King's Landing had always been the safest place across the Seven Kingdoms. The long-drawn war had swept through all regions except Dorne. King's Landing had its share too, but it emerged unified without shedding a drop of blood.

Hence, King's Landing remained the only city untouched by the war, where the populace could still lead peaceful and prosperous lives. The rhythm of life was serene and harmonious.

Viserys, having unified the Seven Kingdoms, had finally let loose of the tight reins of tension that held him. He seemed much more relaxed, no longer living on pins and needles as before.

"Do you think Robb has taken a liking to that girl from House Tyrell?" Arianne lazily lay on the bed, her perfect curves accentuated; her smooth shoulders, slender waist, perky buttocks, and sleek, firm thighs were on display.

"Hmm, perhaps," replied Viserys, donned in his nightgown, leaning against the headboard. The relaxed couple were having a casual conversation, with Viserys mentioning Robb's recent unusual behavior. For instance, blushing and stammering upon seeing a particular girl, being overly concerned about his appearance, almost like a rooster primping for courtship.

That girl was none other than Margaery Tyrell, a lively and quirky lady pushed into King's Landing by Lady Olenna. Margaery's spirited nature had captivated Robb during a feast attended by Viserys, leaving him smitten.

However, Margaery, under the tutelage of her grandmother, had Robb wrapped around her little finger. She managed a balanced act of neither being too intimate nor distant, while Robb had long forgotten the words of caution from Viserys half a year ago: "Don't be a sycophant."

...

"I don't like House Tyrell," said Arianne, shaking her head upon hearing Viserys' words, then chuckled lightly. "They always act high and mighty, looking down upon others with their noses in the air. However, lately, these roses have finally learned to bow down."

Being the Princess of Dorne, it was only natural for Arianne to loathe House Tyrell.

Dorne and the Riverlands had age-old enmities, constantly clashing through thousands of years. But now, as the queen, Arianne viewed things differently, aligning more with her husband's stance.

After all, the Seven Kingdoms were his, and he was hers.

"Setting aside my prejudice against House Tyrell, I too believe Robb is no match for Margaery. He's bound to suffer a great loss," Arianne continued, her face turning serious as she spoke.

Women perhaps had a certain intuition. Despite Margaery's innocent facade, she was as cunning as Lady Thorn, while Robb Stark, always groomed as the heir by Catelyn and Eddard Stark, was taught strategy, politics, etiquette, and warfare, but never about affairs of the heart.

In the grand scheme of noble houses like the Starks, heirs' marriages were arranged for alliances, not love. Thus, Robb wasn't taught how to interact with women.

Viserys nodded in agreement to Arianne's words. His squire Robb was indeed emotionally naive compared to the clever little rose, Margaery.

Viserys then thought of something else. Recently, there had been an increase in the followers of the Black God Cult in King's Landing.

They propagated that a cataclysm brewing in the ruins of Valyria threatened to engulf the world, and only those who sought refuge in their 'god's' faith could attain salvation.

This tactic was all too familiar to Viserys, similar to how the Red God faith had taken root in Westeros.

Could there rise a Black God Cult following the Red God Faith?

Viserys had no recollection of such an organization in the original narrative.

However, it was clear that the turmoil in Valyria and the slow spread of smoke had not occurred in the original narrative, but started manifesting after Viserys' arrival in this world. The activities in the ancient ruins and the smoke's gradual expansion might be related to Viserys' presence.

The Black God Cult emerged due to the fear surrounding the smoke emanating from Valyria. Just a few years ago, the smoke had engulfed the lands near the Summer Sea, forcing ships to navigate through deeper waters, taking a longer route to avoid the fog and reach Slaver's Bay and beyond.

The spread of the smoke had slowed down compared to the initial engulfment of the lands near the Summer Sea, but Viserys' spies continued to monitor its slow but constant advancement, albeit at a much slower pace.

Now, after spreading for several years, the smoke had reached the vicinity of the Sighing Sea, the very place where Viserys and Mia had landed after escaping from Valyria.

The regions of the Summer Sea and Sighing Sea, although far from King's Landing, housed their own populace. Their fear of the turmoil in Valyria was far greater than that of the people of the Seven Kingdoms, who were ignorant of the existence of the Others. To these distant people, the smoke was a calamity of the highest order.

The Black God Cult was a grotesque manifestation of worship born out of the people's fear of the smoke from Valyria.

They revered the smoke, believed in its divine essence, and preached the doctrine of world annihilation. They believed that destruction was a precursor to rebirth, and those who embraced the doctrine of destruction would survive the wrath of the demonic deity.

Although King's Landing practiced religious freedom, this newly emerging Black God Cult, with its strong anti-social intent, was naturally suppressed. Recently, the city guards had been actively hunting down the followers of this cult preaching the doctrine of destruction.

"I heard that during the recent operations to capture the Black God Cult followers, many of my portraits were discovered?" inquired Viserys, as both the internal affairs department and Varys' little birds had been monitoring public opinion.

"Yes, Your Grace," replied Arianne, undoing Viserys' nightgown, her fingers tenderly circling his chest as she continued. "I heard while out hunting that a small group of people had abandoned their faith in the Seven Gods, nor did they follow the Old Gods or the Red God."

"They believe in you."

"Me?"

"Yes. They believe that you can lead them through all adversities, forging an eternally peaceful and harmonious realm."

Viserys was momentarily stunned at her words. Arianne, witnessing her husband's rare daze, chuckled softly, covering her mouth with a velvet blanket. She gently kissed his chest, her fingers tracing downwards.

"I think we should have a boy," she murmured.

"Viserys."

Chapter 613: Dragon Dreams and Menarche

The next day, early morning.

On a large feather bed, as if enveloped by silken smooth cream-colored curtains, a brown-haired girl lay sideways in the center of the bed, covered by a soft blanket, her fair arm and collarbone exposed.

She had her eyes closed, her long eyelashes trembling slightly as though she were dreaming, but the dreamscape seemed far from tranquil. Her brows furrowed...

Then, the next second, she jolted awake, sitting up on the bed, breathing heavily.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

Rhaenys had a nightmare, or rather, several nightmares.

First, she dreamt of her father Rhaegar perishing on the banks of the Trident, shattered rubies scattered across the ground. Yet, immediately after, the scene morphed into a dark knight riding a tall, black horse, breathing out smoke, and charging at her with a lance.

Rhaenys, living up to her titles 'Warrior Princess' and 'Khaleesi of Dragons' in the dream, drew her dark sister to counter the assailant but only struck a shadow.

The next moment, her mother, Princess Elia Martell, appeared before her. The pale-faced Dornish princess seemed to whisper something to her daughter, but Rhaenys heard nothing.

Her father Rhaegar also appeared, and though she should not remember the faces of her parents, within this fluctuating dream, she could distinctly identify them, even see their cheeks clearly.

Rhaenys realized her father and Viserys looked remarkably similar, with about 70% resemblance. Then Rhaegar and Elia stood motionless, their faces emotionless, uttering in unison without any intonation.

"The dragon has three heads, and you are one of them."

Then the scene shifted once more.

This time, it was her familiar companion, her battle comrade Rhaego, who seemed to not recognize her and was spewing dragonfire at her with a ferocious face.

Rhaenys woke from this scene, unconsciously drenched in cold sweat.

Tap tap...

She sat on the soft, large feather bed, the room quiet, with only faint sounds of the servants moving about in the Meagor's Holdfast. They were all cautiously going about their duties.

This was the royal bedroom; naturally, no one dared disturb the rest of the king, queen, and princesses.

"Huff~"

Rhaenys looked at the familiar scene around her, then exhaled softly, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"It was just a nightmare."

The complex and fluctuating dreamscape of the night had exhausted her mentally and physically. Waking up brought no comfort but only fatigue and a throbbing headache.

"Why would Rhaego attack me?"

Then, as the brown-haired girl collected herself, she began to recall the events in her dream.

Most of the earlier scenes were forgotten in the moment of waking, yet what concerned her the most was the last scene where she woke up.

The green dragon Rhaego seemed not to recognize her and was attacking her.

Besides this last scene, Rhaenys was most concerned about the eerie scene with her parents, who seemed to have risen from the dead, delivering a joint statement.

"The dragon has three heads, and I am one of them?"

Rhaenys didn't understand the meaning, but felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart.

Some things in this world are serendipitous, while others seem destined, but unknown things are always the greatest fears in people's hearts.

She decided to ask Viserys about this matter after today's routine council meeting.

Viserys had been intelligent since his youth, something Rhaenys always knew. He had the ability to remember things at a glance, memorizing many lessons taught by the maesters after just one reading, while Rhaenys had to repeat many times, even getting smacked with a ruler by Maester Daniel.

Rhaenys, with her straightforward personality, decided to act immediately. She lifted the blanket to get out of the warm bed, but suddenly froze, her actions halted.

The brown-haired girl saw the conspicuous bloodstains on the sheets and the mess between her legs, and couldn't help but let out a low scream.

"Your mother, Princess Elia, passed away too early, and Queen Rhaella left this world when His Grace and you were still young. This is my negligence,"

"I should have enlightened you earlier, Your Highness."

An elderly maid with grey hair and wrinkles all over her face, wrapped in a grey headscarf, shook her head as she spoke.

"You have begun your menarche, that's all."

"There's no need to worry."

The old maid was Sophia, who had served several generations of the Targaryen family.

She was initially the personal maid of Queen Rhaella, and had witnessed Queen Rhaella's youthful days, fleeing the Red Keep along with Queen Rhaella and the young lord.

After so many years, she had finally returned to the Red Keep, serving as the chief maid in the court.

Rhaenys still woke up as usual, except for the strange dream, now there were some other "guests", a relative had come to visit her.

The brown-haired girl also resided in Maegor's Holdfast, though theoretically, as a member of the royal family, she should stay in other rooms within the Red Keep, yet she and Daenerys chose to stay in Maegor's Holdfast.

She had begun her menarche.

The girl looked a bit frightened, uneasy, and even a bit expectant. This seemed to be the reaction of every girl when menarche comes, unsure of what the future holds.

For noble girls, the onset of menarche carries other implications. According to the traditions and customs of the Seven Kingdoms, marriage and consummation are not permitted before menarche, as pre-menarche consummation would be cursed by the gods.

Thus, the onset of menarche also signifies that this noble girl can be engaged and married off, her family would start looking for a suitable husband, and families wishing to marry her would also start making moves.

"Your Highness."

The old maid with a headscarf and wrinkled face looked at Rhaenys who was still stunned and couldn't help but speak.

"Your Highness."

"Ah?"

It was only after she called for the third time that Rhaenys reacted, like a startled rabbit.

The old maid could not help but smile helplessly. Princess Rhaenys had always been lively and active from childhood, only becoming a bit restrained as she grew up, acting more like a lady.

"You have become a woman now, Your Highness, do you know what this means?"

Rhaenys was slightly stunned, clearly not understanding.

Chapter 614: City Expansion

In the original plan, today's royal council meeting was to discuss the population and sanitary issues of King's Landing.

The Night's Watch army had begun its expedition to reclaim the North, and it was only natural for the scattered northerners across the Seven Kingdoms, including those in King's Landing, to return to their homelands. However, some had grown accustomed to the warm and comfortable life in the South and were reluctant to return home, as going back to the North meant rebuilding their homes from scratch.

Of course, it wasn't a problem for these people to stay in King's Landing, but they generally lacked assets, had no fixed abode, and were unemployed.

Their presence in King's Landing had become a security black hole, filled with brawls, thefts, robberies, smuggling, and more. The city guard was kept busy catching these criminals, and six out of ten were wandering Northerners.

And more importantly, there was the issue of the city's population capacity. Although King's Landing had expanded several times over three hundred years and could accommodate a sizable population, it still could not withstand the pressure of a sudden population surge.

The stifling heat of midsummer hung over the entire city of King's Landing, intensifying the stench in a city already known as 'a cesspit.'

Even the nobles residing on Aegon's High Hill and the royals within the Red Keep could not bear the foul odor. Coupled with the recent reports of small-scale epidemic outbreaks from various noble houses, King Viserys was further resolute in addressing the sanitary issues of King's Landing.

He prepared to allocate funds from the royal treasury, with the royal council providing a hefty budget. Advisors from the Citadel were engaged to offer architectural solutions, and the finest craftsmen from across the kingdom were sought for onsite supervision. One path was to expand the city's scale, and the other was to upgrade the underground sewage facilities. Both paths were to be pursued concurrently to thoroughly resolve King's Landing's sanitation problems.

However, the regularly scheduled royal council meeting, originally intended to discuss these matters, was interrupted by the news of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen's menarche.

This was a significant event that garnered the attention of nobles across the realm due to the young girl's illustrious lineage and noble blood.

"The onset of menarche for the Princess is a good omen, Your Grace."

"In fact, even before this, many nobles had desired to propose marriage to the Princess."

In the royal council, Master of Whisperers Varys, with his polished bald head slightly shaking, hands crossed and tucked into his sleeves, began speaking.

King Viserys had evenly divided the three dragons among the only two noble-blooded girls in the family, one being his niece Rhaenys, and the other his sister Daenerys.

Princess Daenerys was still young and bore a pure lineage, much like the King himself with silver hair and purple eyes. Of course, her hair did not shimmer as brightly, nor were her eyes as pure as Viserys'.

On the other hand, Princess Rhaenys lacked a bit in the strength of bloodline yet still possessed a dragon and was adept in warfare.

She had once mounted her dragon Rhaegal and scorched the Westerlands for three months, leaving a deep psychological scar on both the nobles and common folk of the Westerlands.

Now that the girl had reached marriageable age, the voices proposing marriage to Rhaenys had never ceased across the kingdom.

In the royal council chamber, Varys seated on his designated seat, cleared his throat, and continued to offer his counsel.

"However, we must learn from the lessons of the previous dynasty and history, Your Grace."

"Princess Rhaenys must not marry outside, to prevent the true dragon bloodline from flowing out and diluting, so..."

"Yes."

On the other side, Grand Maester Marwyn, seated next to Varys, also nodded and began speaking. The two seemed to have coordinated beforehand, and Marwyn was the one among all present who understood Valyria the most.

Archmaester, with his rough and muffled voice, began.

"The Dragon King is an ancient title among the forty families of Valyria, who vied for control over the Freehold of Valyria, with House Targaryen among them."

"The title Dragon King was bestowed precisely because of the ability to control dragons, an ability derived from their mysterious and pure bloodline."

"To preserve the purity of the bloodline, Dragon Kings chose incestuous marriages, commonly between siblings, and polygamy was not unheard of either."

Archmaester Marwyn recounted the ancient traditions of Valyrian Dragon Kings, who chose such practices to preserve the purity of their bloodlines.

"As for the previous dynasty..."

On the other side, Varys picked up the conversation, and with the mention of the previous dynasty, the bald eunuch's words became much more cautious. Here, the previous dynasty referred to the Targaryen dynasty, which though nominally severed still had myriad connections. Varys carefully weighed his words before speaking.

"I, along with Grand Maester Marwyn and many maesters from the Citadel, had communication beforehand."

The Archmaester, adorned with a Valyrian steel link, nodded slightly.

"A mainstream theory suggests that the extinction of dragons and the decline of House Targaryen were due to political marriages with other families post-unification of the Seven Kingdoms, leading to a mixed and diluted bloodline, diminishing the bloodline's power."

"The ability to control dragons decreased, and without companions, the dragons went extinct."

Varys' words had the members of the royal council nodding in agreement.

Except for Master of Laws Oberyn, whose brow furrowed slightly. Being more astute, his mind raced with more associations.

The Dornishman's brows knotted into a lump, and his brown face turned a bit serious before eventually relaxing.

Among those present, some noticed Oberyn's slight displeasure. The reason was clear to all, yet none voiced it out.

The issue of succession was always a taboo, in any world, era, or nation, mishandling which could lead to a catastrophic fate, even implicating the entire family.

On the other side, King Viserys too found this matter a headache. He rubbed his temples and then spoke.

"Gentlemen, there's no rush in this matter."

"We will discuss this later."

The Valyrian Dragon Kings indeed needed incestuous marriages to preserve the purity of their bloodline, which was the way they thrived and propagated. He understood why his council was anxious for him, as King Viserys had yet no suitable male heir.

However, Rhaenys was still slightly young, and due to their close relationship, Viserys found it hard to accept mentally.

"Wait for a while."

"Wait for a while."

The common cultural practice across the kingdom was monogamy, and King Viserys already had his legal wife, Queen Aelinor.

Although examples set by Aegon, Maegor, and others had paved the way, marrying a second wife and granting her the title of Queen would still face some worldly resistance.

Certainly, a grand marriage ceremony couldn't be held; the best approach was to act discreetly.

Chapter 615: The Hunt

Just outside King's Landing lay a vast forest, located to the south of the city, stretching along the side of Blackwater Bay. This was the royal hunting forest of the King of Westeros.

Once, common folk lived within this royal forest, but now, having received a handsome compensation, they had been driven out.

This place had become the abode of dragons, the giant couple, and the Children of the Forest. If they did not wish to become a meal for the dragons or be obliterated by the magic of the Children, they had to leave.

Now, the royal forest was one of the most dangerous places in Westeros, or even in the entire world, because it was home to dragons — eight dragons, to be precise, along with giants.

Ever since Daenerys rode Viserion from Pentos to the Red Keep, she remained there, for a dragon could cross the Narrow Sea in a day or two. There was no longer a need for Daenerys to personally guard the eastern territories of the kingdom and protect the supply routes for war materials.

Moreover, a shadow link existed between Viserys and the Governor of Pentos, Belicho. As his psychic power enhanced, the shadow link's distance extended further, even across the Narrow Sea.

Should an overseas war break out, he would know immediately. If dragon support was needed, he could lead the campaign himself or send dragon riders to aid.

Daenerys also brought along five young dragons, and they lived together in this vast forest. Should outsiders dare to intrude, they would essentially be adding a sweet treat for the dragons. This made the place one of the most dangerous in the Westeros continent, perhaps even the Night King wouldn't dare to stroll around here casually.

...

Whoosh—

However, at this moment, a sudden sound of an arrow ripping through the air resonated within the silent forest.

A doe, drinking water near a source, alertly lifted its head, but before it could react, the arrow made a sharp whistling sound, piercing through the bark of a large tree beside it, firmly nailing onto it. The fletching was still quivering slightly, emanating a humming sound.

Thud—

The slender doe, startled, hastily darted into the depths of the forest, vanishing without a trace.

"Damn it!"

On the other side, the source of the arrow was a knight in silver armor atop a white steed.

She wore lady's armor, with a Valyrian steel sword hanging at her waist, her brown hair cascading down, and her beautiful cheeks were filled with frustration.

This female knight was none other than the current Crown Princess, Lady of Summerhall, Rhaenys Targaryen, who had recently been the subject of many discussions within the court.

Due to the incessant hassle, she had to follow her cousins and other sisters out for a hunting expedition to relieve some stress.

However, with her skills, this solitary doe should have been an easy target, yet to her surprise, she got distracted at the last moment, resulting in a miss, allowing the doe to escape with its life.

"Rhaenys, it seems your archery has deteriorated quite a bit recently."

Beside the silver-armored female knight was a warrior woman distinctly dressed in Dorne style.

Her skin was a bit dark, with deep and clear eyes, riding a tall horse, donned in a sleeveless leather armor sewn with metal plates, a sandy-colored coat over it, holding a long spear.

"Obara."

"I"

Rhaenys, looking at her companion beside her, slightly opened her mouth as if wanting to say something, but eventually sighed dejectedly. She had a lot on her mind, yet she couldn't discuss it with Obara.

Because she knew Obara, who only thought in terms of 'fighting and killing', wouldn't come up with any good ideas.

Rhaenys' outing was naturally accompanied by her cousins, strictly speaking, the Sand Snakes and Arianne were all Rhaenys' cousins, just that the Sand Snakes didn't bear the surname Martell.

The Sand Snake sisters couldn't sit still in a place like King's Landing, hence hunting became a regular activity for them.

Thanks to Rhaenys and Arianne, they could freely enter and exit the royal forest, and the dragons, having been notified by Rhaenys, wouldn't attack them unprovoked.

"Just say what you want to say, heh, Rhaenys."

"I am your sister, don't you trust us?"

However, Obara seemed to have detected the hesitation in Rhaenys' tone and appeared somewhat displeased.

Then the eldest of the Sand Snake sisters gripped her spear tightly, emanating a murderous aura.

"Is someone bullying you?"

"Tell me his name, and I'll slaughter him!"

Obara, being robust and valiant, had an extremely fiery temper.

"Obara."

At this moment, a voice from behind them interrupted.

Arianne, dressed in a warm yellow gown, rode a fiery red horse over to them. Her fighting skills were just passable, only good enough for entertainment.

Beside Arianne were Nymeria, Tyene, and Sarella Sand. Sarella was Oberyn's fourth daughter, her mother being a captain of a merchant ship from the Summer Isles.

Arianne had just heard the conversation between the two and hurried over to interrupt.

"Let me talk to Rhaenys for a moment."

"Sure."

Arianne's words were indeed effective. Although Obara had a fiery temper, she didn't dare to defy Arianne, for Arianne was the daughter of Prince Doran, while they were merely Oberyn's illegitimate daughters.

Under the scrutinizing gaze of the Princess of Dorne, Obara reluctantly withdrew, while the sweet-looking Tyene cheerfully rode over, hooking her arm around her eldest sister's shoulder.

She cast a meaningful glance at Rhaenys and Arianne, then led the others away, leaving some space for Arianne and Rhaenys.

"Cousin."

Now, only the two of them remained in the forest. The brown-haired girl appeared slightly nervous. She clenched her fist a little, then loosened it, her facial expression also seemed restrained.

"You never acted like this when talking to me before, Rhaenys."

"What's going on?"

However, compared to Rhaenys' restraint and nervousness, Arianne seemed very calm and poised, her face bearing a smile, exhibiting the demeanor of a mother of a vast kingdom.

Both dismounted and walked alongside each other, holding the reins while chatting. Arianne's words made Rhaenys' facial expression tenser, she opened her mouth but didn't know how to respond.

Over the past few days, Rhaenys had indeed been avoiding her cousin, yet unexpectedly, she was confronted about it now. This embarrassment almost made her want to crawl into a hole.

"Do you like Viserys, don't you?"

The next second, Arianne pointed out the issue directly.

Chapter 616: The Strife of the Court

Yalene's forthright words slightly altered the color on Rhaenys' face.

"Cousin, you..."

In fact, since childhood, Viserys and Rhaenys had relied on each other, and together they nurtured a younger sister. It would be a lie to say there wasn't a deep bond between them.

Rhaenys admired Viserys' capability; he could find solutions to any problem and never chose to flee, except in matters of the heart.

Viserys seemed not to be overly picky when it came to love. He was a man who went with the flow, solving problems as they came, and going with the flow when there weren't any.

Just like the Queen Yalene standing before them now, perhaps others were unaware, but Rhaenys knew that Viserys initially had no feelings for Yalene.

This was a political marriage arranged initially to secure the support of Dorne. However, Viserys kept delaying until he could delay no more. Instead of breaking off the engagement, he accepted her as his wife, as long as she didn't commit any fundamental errors.

And in reality, the Yalene of today had fundamentally changed from the Dorne princess of the original trajectory.

The original trajectory's Dorne princess had no idea about the marriage arrangement with Viserys, nor did she know what Viserys was up to.

In this altered trajectory, Viserys had established a firm foothold on the continent of Essos, becoming a prince of Westerlands and Pentos, with lands rivaling the Westerlands and Vale of Arryn in Westeros. Yalene had long known that she had a fiancé, and was looking forward to meeting him given his talents and exceptional abilities.

One person's existence had led to two completely different life trajectories, and Yalene had naturally changed from who she once was.

Now, she just wanted to be a good wife and mother, a qualified and excellent queen, and after accepting Yalene, Viserys sincerely regarded her as his wife and nurtured their relationship.

Such was the nature of noble marriages.

Lady Catelyn of Winterfell was initially to marry Eddard's elder brother Brandon. However, after Winterfell's heir was burnt alive in King's Landing by the Mad King, Eddard became the Duke of Winterfell, and thus Catelyn transitioned from 'sister-in-law' to marrying her husband's younger brother, Eddard.

There wasn't much love between them when they first married. However, as they gradually shared their lives, the reserved northerner fell in love with Catelyn, and she too grew fond of Eddard. Their marriage blossomed, and they shared a profound bond.

Seeing her cousin's face change color from her words, Yalene remained calm.

She just looked at Rhaenys with a gentle smile. As Rhaenys seemed to want to explain something, Yalene raised a finger to her lips, then said,

"There's no need to explain anything, Rhaenys."

"I've known about the deep bond between you and Viserys since I arrived here."

"And many years ago, when I learned I was to marry him, my father told me what would happen in the future."

Prince Doran didn't hide anything from his daughter, but candidly told her that Viserys might not have only her as his wife in the future.

According to the tradition of the Valyrian dragon kings, he would also need to marry a wife of his own bloodline, to continue the family lineage.

"And you..."

Rhaenys, with a trace of uncertainty on her cheeks, had initially resisted Yalene when she first came to Pentos. However, as Yalene was her cousin, and had been very intimate with Rhaenys, she gradually let go of her prejudice and accepted Yalene.

But now, the thought of 'snatching' her sister's husband brought a lot of pressure on Rhaenys, making her somewhat evasive, even afraid to face Yalene.

However, the Dorne princess saw through her cousin's youthful dilemmas and proactively came over to counsel, which made Rhaenys feel anxious yet somewhat touched.

"Is it really okay?"

"But this is..."

The brunette still hesitated a bit.

"You follow the Seven, yet this is still a forbidden love, isn't it?"

Yalene asked, and Rhaenys nodded slightly.

"Let's say, for instance,"

The lady in the warm yellow gown led her horse forward, with Rhaenys holding the reins and walking beside her.

"If... I mean, if I insist on obstructing this, what do you think will happen next, Rhaenys?"

Rhaenys was slightly stunned by her cousin's question and then shook her head.

"I don't know."

"There might be two possibilities. The first is that Viserys accepts my obstruction and gives up on this. The other is..."

Yalene didn't continue, but the unsaid words were a stark and cruel reality in the court.

Women in the court didn't believe in love. No matter how beautiful you were in your youth, everyone aged eventually.

When that day comes, a younger, more beautiful woman will arrive, steal your beloved, and usurp your position.

There were countless bloody examples of this through the ages.

"Wasn't it the same with your mother?"

The next words from Yalene made Rhaenys tremble slightly.

The fate of Rhaenys' mother, Princess Elia Martell, was just that.

Though Rhaenys never mentioned it, she took pride in her father, but an indelible stain was that her father, Rhaegar Targaryen, had abandoned her mother for another woman, a wolf maiden from House Stark of Winterfell.

Even though Rhaegar was exonerated at the trial, he didn't kidnap and rape Lyanna Stark, but rather, the two young souls eloped, leading to a misunderstanding.

Even a septon had annulled his marriage to Elia and officiated a wedding for Rhaegar and Lyanna in a grove of weirwood trees.

But it was undeniable that her father betrayed her mother, and Rhaenys trembled at the thought.

"I don't mind sharing my husband with my sister."

"Rhaenys, you are my sister!"

Yalene looked at the expression on Rhaenys' face and seized the moment to persuade.

"And, isn't it better for us sisters to serve one husband together?"

The lady in the warm yellow gown stopped in her tracks, leaving Rhaenys in a state of inner turmoil.

Then Yalene took both her hands, looked into her eyes, and said,

"But remember, Rhaenys."

"We are sisters, and we should help each other."

"Don't let anyone else come between us."

Rhaenys, gazed into by her cousin, and swayed by her words, nodded unknowingly.

"Alright."

Chapter 617: Inspecting the Academy

Indeed, Yalene had long been prepared for this day, after all, it's a challenge every queen married into the Targaryen family must face.

Throughout the history of the Targaryen dynasty, the harem had been filled with absurdity and chaos.

Some queens succeeded, while others failed in the struggle for favor, becoming marginalized, and drifting away from the court and power.

History books serve as the best textbooks, Yalene had prepared herself in advance. She wasn't going to use the method of crying, making a fuss, or threatening to hang herself to prevent Viserys from marrying a second queen; it wasn't the Dornish way of solving problems.

Dornish people are known for their passion, openness towards sexuality, and although Yalene had made changes in this life, she still didn't mind sharing her husband with her sisters.

Yalene once actively invited Nameria and Tyene to share Viserys' bed, the three sisters serving one lord together.

Because Yalene knew this was merely an outlet for desires, and such desires are the basic instincts of human reproduction, there's nothing to be shy about.

From the beautiful Nameria and the sweet-smiling, heart-melting Tyene, Viserys merely found satisfaction for his desires.

The Sand sisters could never replace, or even challenge Yalene's position.

But the presence of two girls made Yalene feel threatened—Rhaenys Targaryen and Daenerys.

The two girls had come into Viserys' life earlier than Yalene, and according to the tradition of continuing the Targaryen bloodline, he would inevitably have to marry one or both of them to carry on the family lineage.

Since blocking was not as effective as channeling, after careful consideration, Yalene chose her cousin Rhaenys as her ally in the harem.

Rhaenys' mother was Yalene's aunt, hence this relationship made the two naturally very intimate and open with each other.

And the most crucial point was that Rhaenys didn't exhibit the Targaryen traits prominently.

She had brown hair, dark eyes, though her cheekbones resembled her father Rhaegar, giving her high attractiveness.

Rhaenys' dragon bloodline wasn't very pure, so with Yalene and Rhaenys allying in the harem, even if Rhaenys bore children in the future, they wouldn't necessarily challenge Yalene's position in the harem. Moreover, they could jointly repel newcomers.

The cousins enjoyed their conversation, and Rhaenys was somewhat dizzy with Yalene's persuasion, but this didn't mean Yalene had any malice. After all, everyone would consider their own interests.

A person who thinks entirely for others is either a saint or a fool. Not considering one's own interests would only lead to losing everything in the end.

On the other side, seeing the conversation between Yalene and Rhaenys end, a young girl wearing silver lady armor with brown long hair on her face also showed relief, while the hiding Sand sisters came out.

Nameria Sand and Tyene knew what the two were talking about, but the eldest of the Sand sisters, Obara, was completely lost.

"What happened?"

She scratched her hair, not knowing what magic Yalene had wielded to make Rhaenys smile again.

"Hmph."

On the other side, Nameria, hearing her elder sister's question, snorted lightly in disdain.

Her figure was slender like a willow branch, her straight black hair was braided and tied with red-gold string, her black eyes and full lips framed her fair skin. Under her clothes, she hid a dozen weapons.

Whereas the third sister, Tyene Sand, remained cheerfully silent, her eyes sweeping over everyone present.

She had golden hair and blue eyes, her face sweet and devout. Her mother was a septa who violated the gods' will by secretly liaising with a man, making love under the gaze of the Seven statues, eventually giving birth to the illegitimate Tyene.

But despite Tyene's sweet appearance, she was one of the most dangerous among the Sand sisters, her understanding of poisons second only to her father.

The relationship among the Sand sisters wasn't that harmonious since they had different mothers, just the same father.

In King's Landing, Viserys was naturally unaware that even before making a decision, events in his harem had already begun.

He was now inspecting the construction progress of the Kingdom's Military Academy. The academy, located atop Rhaenys' Hill, was built on the land of a once-abandoned dragon pit. This royal military academy, now under the full jurisdiction of the royal family, was constructed on this once-abandoned land.

The dragon pit, as royal assets, had been a significant waste in the precious land of King's Landing for many years. So, Viserys' promotion of the pit's renovation was also a way to optimize royal assets.

Furthermore, the academy, a cradle for training future military officers, naturally needed to be firmly held by the royal family.

Now, with full funding, a large number of idle laborers from society were recruited to accelerate the construction progress.

King's Landing was now experiencing a population boom, core area housing prices soared, with labor supply exceeding demand. This situation had its pros and cons—the downside was sanitation and security issues, while the upside was rapid development. A large number of cheap laborers were recruited at low prices for infrastructure construction.

In just over a year, several academies in King's Landing had almost been completed.

"Make way!"

"Make way!"

"Clear the path for His Majesty!"

Rumble rumble—

The heavy hoofbeats echoed on the temporarily cleaned main road of King's Landing.

Trot trot trot.

A line of knights clad in bright armor, armed to the teeth, rode long-maned war horses. They held banners embroidered with golden-edged three-headed dragons and carried long spears. Among them, a female knight dressed in white armor with a white cape.

They majestically traversed the streets, moving directly up to the top of Rhaenys' Hill along Silent Sisters Street.

Viserys was now inspecting the Kingdom's Military Academy, whose first dean was a scholar of war studies from the Citadel, now becoming the new Doctor of War Studies, the dean of the military academy.

The previous Doctor of War Studies had died on the battlefield in Oldtown alongside the heir of House Hightower.

The new Doctor of War Studies, naturally, was very respectful, coming to the front gate of the academy to personally greet the king.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

Behind the white-haired dean stood a group of bachelors of war studies.

Viserys, dressed in a leather outfit and draped in a black and red cloak, dismounted and handed the reins to a guard nearby.

"Doctor Belton."

Viserys extended his hand, and the white-haired new Doctor of War Studies quickly reached out, the two shaking hands.

"Your Majesty."

"Welcome to the Military Academy."

"Please."

Chapter 618: Military Academy

The architectural style of the entire military academy is solemn. Standing at its main entrance, one can't help but feel an oppressive aura that forces frivolous expressions to sober up into reverence.

It turns out, upon entering the highest-ranked military academy in the kingdom, one is greeted by a giant, grandiose monument. It's engraved with scenes of human allied forces facing the blue-eyed enemy without flinching. Below the relief is a heart-wrenching number.

Countless soldiers of the human allied forces fell resisting the invasion of the White Walkers, splattering their blood on the northern lands, leaving their lives there forever.

This was an idea proposed by Viserys, telling stories has always been the best way to unite a nation, to unite a kingdom. Throughout history, numerous legendary stories have been told, forming the history of various nations and humanity.

No story could evoke more fervor and unite more nations than resisting foreign invasions.

The war between humans and White Walkers is essentially a battle between life and death. Every living being on this planet, be it humans or other species, cherishes life and fears death. However, death forcefully takes them away, so people have no choice but to unite and withstand the calamity together.

Tell this story well.

...

"In all the wars throughout history, not every battle was won by the side with more soldiers or stronger forces."

"In such situations, strategy plays a crucial role."

"How to achieve victory in war?"

"How to confront a more numerous enemy with fewer soldiers?"

"How to win a war at a smaller cost?"

"These are the arts of war that you will learn in the coming days."

"My name is Matus, and I will be your instructor accompanying you through the learning process in the next few months."

A bald middle-aged scholar in a gray robe, with a chain of iron symbolizing military or war studies around his neck, stands on the podium speaking confidently.

Below, the classroom is filled with densely packed desks, yet the atmosphere isn't very lively.

Most of the students are burly men, some with intimidating faces, long scars on their arms, or an eye patch covering one eye.

The age range among the students varies greatly; the oldest has white hair at his temples, even older than instructor Matus on the podium, while the youngest looks only in his teens.

However, there's a common characteristic among them – an overwhelming aura of murder. They all have been on the battlefield and are soldiers or officers who have made significant achievements.

After the construction of the new military academy, the first batch received orders to be sent to King's Landing for a period of study. Only those who pass the training are allowed to return to their troops; otherwise, they will stay here to continue their studies.

What Viserys is inspecting now is the performance of these first batch of students participating in the pilot program.

Unfortunately, these founding heroes and valiant soldiers who have won battles are not good students. They certainly won't sit quietly in the classroom.

"Hey, that bitch called Matus."

A ruthless-looking officer from the Golden Company puts one foot on a stool, then speaks insolently.

"Do you know where this scar on my chest comes from?"

He unbuttons his shirt, revealing a shocking scar. Although healed now, it's still dark red, looking like a twisted reptile.

On the podium, Scholar Matus continues his lecture, analyzing a war initiated by the Kingdom of the Riverlands' King Gyles Gardener III before the Conquest.

He waged war against the Stormlands, personally leading a knightly army on an eastern expedition capturing all Stormlands territory north of the Rainwood except for Storm's End, then besieging Storm's End for two years, but was ambushed by Westerlands' King Lancel Lannister V seizing the opportunity.

Matus is analyzing the pros and cons of this war, as well as the mistakes made by the three kings and generals involved in this war.

However, he is suddenly interrupted and slightly stunned because this is the first time these disobedient 'students' have spoken to him.

Matus is a scholar who has independently earned the military chain ring through examination. His research on military strategy is impeccable. Once, he was responsible for receiving new students recommended to join the Citadel in the city of scholars.

However, most of those students were second sons or bastards from their families. They were obedient, following the instructors' arrangements, doing what they could, and were very diligent in their studies.

If there were disrespectful or academically failing students, the Citadel had the right to expel them directly, without the need to save face for anyone.

But now, times have changed.

The Citadel no longer holds its once lofty status, but has been directly split into several academies. From now on, they are not close-knit family members, but enemies competing for educational funding budgets.

Moreover, the students now are even harder to serve. They are all burly, with ruthless faces. Just their gaze alone makes Bald Scholar Matus' heart skip a beat, not to mention disciplining them.

"Sir Henrick."

Scholar Matus glances at the name list, learns the name of the person in front of him, and although his face looks a bit unpleasant, he still speaks up.

"I don't know where your scar comes from, but we are in class now, please."

"My scar on the chest was caused by a fucking Frey during the Battle of Coppergate!"

"He slashed me from behind!"

A grassroots commander of the Golden Company, now knighted and granted a village in the Westerlands, Sir Henrick's voice roars. He also takes off his shirt, turns around, and lets everyone see the scars on his back.

At that time, Henrick served in the Golden Company, was ambushed and knocked down from behind by a Frey knight, who then rushed over to finish him off, leaving another shocking scar on his chest.

"But in the end, I bit off his throat!"

"Fucking broke one of my teeth."

Laughter erupts in the classroom, Sir Henrick has a good sense of humor and is able to make a lively scene, causing laughter among the rough men present, followed by thunderous applause.

However, with a smug smile on his face, Henrick opens his arms to unabashedly show off his scars, his manly achievements.

He then turns his head disdainfully towards Scholar Matus on the podium, asking a fatal question.

"So, that fucking Scholar Matus?"

"What's your greatest achievement on the battlefield?"

Chapter 619: Learning Strong Nation

"I... I have never been on a battlefield."

Henrick's statement left Scholar Matus a bit embarrassed on the spot. He could only open and close his mouth, finally uttering this sentence in a very low voice.

"Huh?"

"A bald shithead who's never been on a battlefield is teaching us how to fight?"

Henrick, of course, heard Matus's words, and immediately repeated them with exaggerated expression and tone, before breaking into hearty laughter.

"Hahaha—"

His blatant mockery also amused the other kingdom army officers and soldiers in the classroom who had come for training.

Their faces all bore smiles, and they couldn't help but laugh together, patting the tables in approval, and then looked at their teacher, Scholar Matus, with keen interest.

They wanted to see how the heavily insulted scholar would retaliate. Would he use his so-called war studies? Would he use the tiny teaching whip in his hand to spank this guy's ass?

"I…"

The bald scholar in a gray robe, adorned with an iron chain, had fury written all over his face.

He had been greatly insulted, yet he couldn't express his indignation, which indeed was laughable. He had never been on a battlefield yet was teaching a bunch of officers who had walked off one.

He really wanted to rush up and have a fight with the man, but reason told him to stay calm; there was a high chance he couldn't beat the man, he might even be killed by him.

Scholar Matus's face turned red, and the scene became awkward.

Just at that moment, the dean of the military academy, Dr. Belton, along with Viserys and his entourage, walked in.

"Doctor!"

Seeing the leaders arrive, Scholar Matus, regardless of his fury, hurriedly spoke in a panicked tone.

And the officers below, who were receiving training, became even more fearful when they saw the arrivals. How many silver-haired, purple-eyed individuals were there in King's Landing? Moreover, many of them had had the opportunity to see Viserys up close.

"Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty."

All the officers and soldiers undergoing training stood up to salute, including Sir Henrick, whose face was the most nervous.

"Your clothes! Your clothes!"

"Quick!"

A companion handed over the clothes he had just taken off, and the Golden Company officer hurriedly draped them over himself, covering his bare upper body.

"Hmph."

A red-haired knight among Viserys's entourage looked at him and snorted coldly, but said nothing.

Viserys, on the other hand, seemed to ignore the previous scene entirely, still wearing a smile on his face.

He had heard everything that had just happened, although Dr. Belton beside him hadn't heard clearly; Viserys's senses were sharper.

He had somewhat anticipated this scene, yet it still occurred. One of the purposes of his visit was to address such situations.

However, being a king, he naturally wouldn't step down and reprimand soldiers and junior officers publicly; that would be a very disgraceful act.

He then whispered a few words to a knight beside him.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The knight glanced at Henrick, then turned and left.

On the other side, Henrick watched the departing knight with a slight trepidation in his heart, while his less honorable companions couldn't help but snicker, knowing he was in for trouble.

They were all drawn from various places across the lands, having never met before, so there was no camaraderie to speak of.

"What's the biggest difference between a peasant and a noble?"

Viserys rarely had heart-to-heart conversations with the most basic level of officers and soldiers; maybe he would have done so back in Andalos.

The reason wasn't complicated—it was to win hearts.

Robert had also once slept in a ditch with soldiers and got drunk with them.

However, that was during the conquest; when it came to ruling, maintaining such a close distance with the public was inappropriate. Viserys needed to maintain the mystique and authority of the royalty.

A king who mingles daily with the commoners in flea nests, where would his authority stand?

Now, Viserys had passed the stage of winning hearts, and he didn't have time for that.

Yet now, Viserys still brought a stool to sit on the podium to have a simple chat with these men.

He gestured for them to sit down, as the classroom was not the throne room, and there wasn't a strict etiquette of monarch and subjects here.

"What's the biggest difference between a peasant and a noble?"

"Bloodline?"

"Wealth?"

"Power?"

"Yes, all you've thought of is correct."

"But there's one more thing you've overlooked, and that is knowledge."

Viserys spoke, and the rough men below sat upright with serious faces. They respected Viserys not just because he was a king, but because Viserys had more blood on his hands than they did.

The scene where King Robert challenged King Viserys in the trial a half-year ago, and was easily killed, still vividly lingered in their minds. Many present had witnessed Viserys in person at that time.

When a tough person meets someone tougher, they become docile. None of the troublemakers dared to cause a scene, and the knights accompanying Viserys were all heavily armed, cold armor, pairs of eyes staring at these men.

"Most nobles have received the best education, at least most of them can read, and they have scholars to assist them in their castles."

"Why?"

"Because they know they need the help of scholars; they understand the importance of knowledge."

"A noble who is illiterate or lacks knowledge will be despised and looked down upon."

When Viserys said this, he turned his head to look at the instructor of this class, Scholar Matus, and the dean of the academy, Dr. Belton, as well as many other accompanying scholars.

They hurriedly smiled and nodded, also straightening their shoulders slightly.

Recently, due to the disintegration of the Scholar's city, the status of scholars had plummeted. However, Viserys's words bolstered the scholars; the workings of this world still needed the assistance of scholars.

"You all want to become nobles in the future."

Viserys turned his head back to look at the men in front of him.

"If you can't even recognize characters, how are you going to become nobles?"

Actually, Viserys was really looking out for them; in this world, being literate was a talent.

However, his words just now were a bit vague. In fact, quite a number of nobles were also illiterate, but mostly from the lowest knight families.

But being literate and then changing one's fate was still feasible.

"Once, you had no opportunity to learn, and now that I have given you the chance, you don't know how to cherish it."

Chapter 620: Economic Reform

Viserys briefly inspected the construction status of the military academy. The first half of the academy was already built and had begun normal classes, while the latter half was still under heavy construction.

The knight Henrick, who had picked on Bachelor Matous in class, had a restless day, but Viserys did not punish him, not even sparing him an extra glance.

Henrick felt like he had dodged a bullet, exhaling a sigh of relief on his way back to the dormitory.

Viserys did not punish the disobedient student, as his own attitude towards learning was the best punishment.

Now, in this world of ice and fire, getting an education was a precious opportunity.

He had already conveyed the importance of learning to them. It was a path to a steady advancement. Those who seized it could ride the east wind to ascend, while those who missed this opportunity would continue with their mundane lives - a blacksmith's son remained a blacksmith, a fisherman's son remained a fisherman.

After inspecting the military academy, Viserys turned his attention to the medical academy, located near the Great Sept of Baelor in the heart of King's Landing.

The city planning of King's Landing was somewhat special. Although the Great Sept of Baelor was at the city's center, it wasn't the busiest area.

The busiest area of King's Landing was near Aegon's High Hill, the southeastern corner of the city, housing the royal palace of Westeros, the Tower of the Hand, the Small Council chamber, and the under-construction court on Aegon's High Hill, which would become the highest legal institution for appeals from the common folk and nobles from other lands in the future.

Although the area near the Great Sept of Baelor wasn't as grand as Aegon's High Hill, it was still bustling. The kingdom's medical academy was next to the Great Sept, though not as grand as the military academy, it was open to common citizens.

Military academy admissions were only through recommendations from the armies across the lands and were not open to the public. The vicinity of the military academy was heavily guarded by a large number of city guards.

Other academies apart from the military academy didn't have such stringent conditions and were open to the public, albeit with extremely high tuition fees.

However, this policy was only on paper for now and had not been officially implemented. Currently, they only served patients seeking medical attention. The students were still composed of nobles' second sons and illegitimate children, yet despite this, the medical academy was overwhelmed daily with a large number of King's Landing citizens lining up for treatment, leaving them stretched thin.

The grand maester Ambrose, now the dean of the medical academy, was a leading doctor in all of Westeros. Beside him was a busy chubby little fellow who looked somewhat familiar to Viserys.

But the medical academy was indeed too busy. Everyone was on their feet, rushing around. Viserys merely took a brief look, not wanting to add trouble to these medical workers, and turned to leave.

The military and medical academies were Viserys' primary concerns - one about taking lives and the other about saving them.

The construction of the economic and theological academies hadn't been completed yet, one managing money and the other managing people's faith.

Economic reform was inevitable in the future. However, the state hadn't completely stabilized, still in the post-war recovery stage, with greater wars awaiting them in the future. Now the focus was on stable transition, and the conditions for reform weren't quite ripe yet.

Indeed, the deeply entrenched aristocratic system in Westeros had led to the stagnation of national strength. Comparing to the free-trade city-states across the Narrow Sea, none of them individually matched the strength of the Seven Kingdoms. Their population and land scale were incomparable to Westeros, just a small piece of land.

However, according to a report provided by the former Pentos governor and current Master of Coin Illyrio Mopatis, such a strong contrast in power, yet every year, a large amount of gold and silver flowed from the Seven Kingdoms into the free-trade city-states across the Narrow Sea, into the Iron Bank, the Spice Guild, the Thirteen Giants, and so on.

Where did this strong trade deficit come from? How to resolve it? Naturally, it became one of the topics for the upcoming discussions.

But one clear point was that Westeros was currently just a crude producer of raw materials, with primitive production methods, earning the most meager profits.

Westerosi farmers produced raw materials and sold them at extremely low prices to wealthy merchants from the free-trade city-states.

And these merchants processed the raw materials into goods, selling them worldwide, even including Westeros, at prices multiple or tens of times higher, easily taking away a large amount of gold and silver.

Once, the Western Lands were the major mining areas of the Seven Kingdoms, rich in minerals such as gold, silver, and copper. However, with such abundant resources, the Western Lands didn't dominate Westeros but were drained empty instead.

Where did the gold mined from the Western Lands go? Certainly, it didn't flow into the hands of local merchants.

These wealthy merchants from the free-trade city-states, rich enough to rival nations, used the money they earned from Westeros to effortlessly destroy the original merchants of the Seven Kingdoms, stifling all their competitors to maximize their profits.

The former Iron Throne either didn't notice these issues or was ignorant. The Master of Coin only knew how to borrow money, leading to the current situation.

Implementing limited trade protection, emulating the trade city-states to establish their 'Iron Bank' or banks, promoting monetary reform, changing production methods, and so on. All these pressing issues lay before Viserys to solve. However, these issues couldn't be rushed; economic problems were never resolved overnight. More long-term development was needed, moving step by step, especially as there was a severe shortage of talents.

Religion might be even more complex than economic issues, requiring years or even decades of persistent efforts, waiting for an entire generation to pass before changes could occur.

Now, the location of the theological academy was also not far from the Great Sept of Baelor, next to the Alchemists' Guild hall. The dean of the theological academy was the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven, who proudly walked around the academy every day wearing his dean's medal.

The theological academy wasn't only about the Faith of the Seven. The red priestess Melisandre, who had a high reputation among the common folk and had the support of Viserys, became the vice dean, mainly training and teaching clergies of the faith of R'hllor.

The theological academy also had the natural faith of the Rhoynar and the more widely worshipped Old Gods of the North. There was even a small Godswood within the academy.

Generally, the atmosphere in the theological academy was harmonious, not as Viserys had worried that there would be conflicts.

After inspecting the military and medical academies, Viserys returned to the Red Keep.

Chapter 621: Marching to Naath Island

In the following days, there wasn't much to do as King's Landing continued its steady operation. Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, apart from the Night's Watch army on their expedition, there was no war to speak of.

The envoy from Naath Island, who had been leisurely strolling through King's Landing, took this time to relish the bustling scenery of the magnificent city, a sight he hadn't experienced in over a decade. He even took his two younger brothers and sister for a thorough exploration.

Yet, he never forgot his mission. He was here to seek aid from the Valyrian Dragon King on behalf of the people of Naath.

Lately, the influx of raiders onto Naath Island had increased drastically. Even the distant Slaver's Bay had set its sights on them, dispatching slave-catching squads to their shores.

The grey mist scattered from the ruins of Valyria was also continuously encroaching, and Naath Island wasn't far from these ominous remains.

"Missandei."

"Listen, I have to meet the King of Valyria today."

The envoy from Naath, named Milaz, was just in his early twenties. The two younger brothers and sister accompanying him were his cousins. The brothers were named Missandlo and Missande, and the youngest sister was named Missandei.

Now, for some reason, little Missandei insisted on accompanying him to the palace. To the people of Naath, the King of Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms were somewhat unfamiliar; what they recognized was the former sovereign state of Valyria.

Valyria had once protected the small neighbor of Naath Island for many years. The Valyrians were the first to establish a grand Dragonglass fortress on Naath Island.

The Dragon King arrived riding a colossal dragon, melting stubborn stones with dragon fire, then magically fusing them together to form the Black Stone Fortress.

They stayed there for an extended period, and for unknown reasons, the Valyrians were not affected by the dreaded 'Butterfly Fever' virus that terrorized outsiders on Naath Island.

But with the arrival of the Doom of Valyria, the great empire collapsed, and the people of Naath once again lost the protection of a sovereign state, suffering massacres during the Century of Blood.

Thus, Milaz was more accustomed to referring to Viserys as the King of Valyria, rather than the King of Westeros or the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

They hoped that by finding the last Dragon King in the world, they could once again seek the protection of a sovereign state.

Unable to go against his cousin sister's wishes, coupled with the eager looks from his cousin brothers, Milaz eventually nodded, agreeing to take them to meet the king.

The round-faced, short black-haired girl cheered immediately, and her two brothers also rejoiced.

They had fallen in love with the city during their time in King's Landing and were somewhat reluctant to return to their homeland. And now, the chance to visit the legendary palace today, how could they not be thrilled?

However, Viserys was not so easy to meet. The king was usually busy with state affairs, and even when not, he liked to claim he was, sneaking in some leisure time for himself.

The envoy Milaz, with his cousins, arrived at the Red Keep, submitted their request for an audience, and then patiently waited.

The Unsullied soldier led them to the reception room. Milaz's cousins wanted to play in the garden, and after asking the Unsullied soldier, he coldly glanced at the three children, especially looking at Missandei's golden eyes, before nodding, and speaking with an indifferent voice.

"You may."

Then the Unsullied soldier turned and left.

"He's also from Naath, cousin."

As the Unsullied soldier's figure receded, Missandei, who had been watching his retreating back, suddenly spoke to her cousin.

"What?"

Milaz was slightly startled, then understood where that familiar feeling came from earlier.

The soldier had golden eyes and dark skin, the distinctive features of the Naathi people.

He tried to speak in the Naathi accent, but perhaps due to his long absence from his homeland, his attempt was somewhat clumsy and didn't match the Naathi accent. However, it was picked up by Missandei, who had a high linguistic aptitude.

Upon realizing all this, a wave of sadness surged within Milaz. The Naathi were lovers of peace but had become synonymous with weakness. It was clear that the soldier had been captured by slaver squads and sold to Astapor, trained to become an Unsullied, his humanity completely obliterated.

Missandei and her brothers were playing in the gardens of the Red Keep, while Viserys, in fact, was not idling around. He was discussing the possibility of marching to Naath Island with his council of close advisors.

"Marching to Naath Island... It's not impossible, but it's a high-stakes gamble, with high risks and rewards."

"And the purpose of marching to Naath Island is not merely to protect it."

The speaker was the king's advisor, Tyrion Lannister. The Imp, dexterously stroking his chin beard, continued.

"Of course, it's not about seizing it either."

"I believe everyone here, including Your Grace, understands my point."

The Imp's words made everyone in the room nod slightly. Viserys's council was unlike the previous dynasties. There were no representatives stuffed in by various factions, no wine sacks or rice bags.

They were all intelligent individuals, and conversations among smart people often got straight to the point.

"Marching to Naath Island can demonstrate the dynasty's strength, deterring the four corners of ambitious wolves."

"And it can enhance Westeros's influence in the world. After all, previous kings of Westeros only focused on internal affairs."

"They believed that as long as their internal affairs were managed well, they could rest easy. Yet, they overlooked the development of the external environment."

The speaker now was the Minister of Information, Varys.

Compared to the internal affairs managed by the Small Council, Varys's little birds' network extended not only within the kingdom but as far as Slaver's Bay. He was the person in the entire kingdom with the deepest understanding of the outside world, followed by Oberyn and then Viserys.

And improving Westeros's influence worldwide was indeed useful, significantly aiding the economic reforms Viserys intended to implement in the future.

"Marching to Naath Island also allows us to visit and assess the true strengths of those trade city-states along the way, preparing for the future."

The last speaker was the Minister of Law, Oberyn, who was also the commander of the Second Legion. He sat with one leg over the other, touching his chin with his fingers, analyzing the situation from a military perspective.

"However, this mission is not easy to accomplish. We must have a naval general familiar with sailing, leading a fleet of elite naval forces."

"And they must be smart, flexible, adaptable, not sticklers for rules, and most importantly, loyal, with no chance of rebellion."

"Whom do you have in mind, Your Grace?"

Chapter 622: Confrontation

The matter of dispatching troops to Naath Island was more a demonstration of power than a declaration of war or protection. Naturally, the kingdom's progress was not directed in one single avenue.

For instance, engaging in war required economic considerations, and economic reforms required diplomatic considerations.

A nation cannot remain isolated; it must exhibit its strength to the outside world, sending a message.

Of course, although this expedition resembled more of a world-tour envoy, it did not imply an absence of conflict.

After all, the world was vast, and the journey long and arduous. The soldiers had to be self-sufficient, and there would always be some reckless individuals aiming to attack the kingdom's fleet for their selfish purposes.

Moreover, as a fleet representing the kingdom's might, its composition could not be compromised.

Thus, a naval general adept at naval warfare and sharp-witted was essential to lead this far-reaching expedition.

This journey was not a matter of months but likely several years.

Ideally, it should be someone unattached, without significant familial ties in Westeros, willing to venture into the unknown for monumental accolades.

With such stringent conditions, the choices available to Viserys were quite limited.

"How about the Kraken's Daughter, Asha Greyjoy?"

"She should be unoccupied for now."

Ever since Asha led the Ironborn loyal to her father to submit to the Iron Throne, she had come to King's Landing. However, during these peaceful times, there wasn't much suitable work for someone like Asha.

The Iron Islands were occupied by her uncle Euron Greyjoy, who was yet to eliminate the heirs of her two elder brothers, making Asha essentially homeless, idling in King's Landing, occasionally helping with naval training.

The Kraken's Daughter was proficient in naval warfare, once a captain of the Black Wind, commanded large fleets in battle, was experienced, sharp, and apart from her brother Theon, had no other concerns in the Seven Kingdoms.

Therefore, when Viserys proposed Asha's name, the council looked at one another, finding no other opinions opposing the choice.

Meanwhile, in the gardens of the Red Keep,

Missandei was playing with her two brothers while their cousin Milaz sat in the reception room, awaiting an audience with the king.

A golden-haired boy with fair skin and green eyes also arrived in the garden. He was Joffrey, stripped of his surname and the title of prince, now reduced to a bastard.

Though deprived of everything, Joffrey had yet to receive the chance to leave the Red Keep due to his tender age. He remained confined to prevent misuse by individuals with ulterior motives.

His mother, the former Queen Cersei, now served as a laundry maid within the Red Keep.

They, the mother and her three children, still resided in Maiden's Keep, confined to a small area.

The farthest they could go was this garden, hence it became Joffrey's usual retreat, his only sanctuary.

Due to the unique location of Maiden's Keep, it was seldom frequented, allowing Joffrey to indulge in fantasies of still being a prince, issuing commands to the plants and chasing the old black cat that once scratched his face.

However, today, uninvited guests intruded into Joffrey's secret garden. At least in his eyes, they were intruders.

They were children like him, led by two boys who appeared only a few years younger.

Yet Joffrey was much taller and stronger. The three Naathi children seemed malnourished, skinny, dark-skinned, resembling small monkeys.

"Are they foreigners?"

Joffrey hid in the shadows, observing the three dark-skinned Naathi children play, his past arrogance now replaced by self-loathing due to the series of devastating events he had endured.

His father was ousted from the throne, he went from prince to bastard, the offspring of his mother's illicit affair with her brother.

These brutal realities twisted Joffrey's psyche, rendering him extremely insecure, hence the frequent retreats to this deserted garden to play by himself, hiding whenever someone passed by, fearful of being seen.

For the mocking, ridiculing, and pitying gazes felt like knives stabbing into his soul. He feared being looked at with such eyes, thus became extremely self-conscious.

Yet now, as Joffrey hid in the shadows, he saw younger, skinny, weak foreigners trespassing into his territory, meddling with his plants.

That was his 'General Dagger Leaf.'

Stop!

Bastards!

The blonde boy's heart roared, his handsome face twisted with rage as he clenched his fists.

"Damn barbarians!"

He might not dare to provoke others, but he could surely handle a few savages, right?

The pent-up frustration and rage within Joffrey erupted unexpectedly at this moment, unchallenged.

Perhaps everyone had moments of anger and fury, yet Joffrey was different from the ordinary.

He struggled to control his emotions, exhibiting pathological tendencies, becoming irrationally agitated with minor triggers, inclined to inflict violence on the weak while displaying exaggerated weakness towards the strong.

It was an extremely abnormal state, either brutally cruel or insanely weak.

And once his fury ignited, nobody could stop him.

"Stop! Shitty bastard!"

Joffrey yelled, charging from behind the tree like a furious young bull, his fair cheeks flushed red, seemingly ready to pounce.

The three Naathi children playing in the garden were utterly terrified. They never expected to be suddenly attacked within the king's palace.

Missandei's brother, Missandor, was punched in the face by Joffrey before he could react, falling to the ground with a thud.

Her older brother, Missanlo, reacted quickly, shielding Missandei behind his arms, urging her to flee in Valyrian.

But Missandei seemed paralyzed, tears welling up in her eyes, her feet rooted to the ground. With no other option, Missanlo reluctantly faced the much taller and stronger Joffrey.

"Die!"

Joffrey swung his fist again at Missanlo, who dodged nimbly. Yet, Joffrey lunged once more...

Chapter 623: Asha

The scuffle between the children in the garden corner of the Red Keep had occurred, but it went unnoticed for the moment, or perhaps even if noticed, wasn't taken seriously.

After all, it was just a bastard and foreigner children fighting, and the people of Westeros, known for their pride, or rather xenophobic tendencies, didn't regard either the Naathi or a bastard highly. They were the noble Andals; they were the aristocrats, while the Naathi were just savages.

Meanwhile, in the council hall of the Red Keep, other courtiers had been dismissed. King Viserys summoned the idle Kraken's Daughter, Asha Greyjoy.

However, when Viserys explained the reason for summoning her, this woman, dressed in black leather armor, slender with long legs and short black hair, agreed without any hesitation.

"Your Grace, you wish for me to venture into the outside world?"

"I am willing to go!"

Asha's readiness surprised Viserys slightly, as even his ability to foresee the future was not all-encompassing, merely glimpsing fragments of what was to come. He hadn't expected Asha to agree so readily.

"Don't you need to think it over?"

"Asha, I must tell you, once you depart, it won't be a short-term expedition. You're no longer young, and this voyage might delay your marriage."

Asha was of the same age as Viserys, who already had a daughter. By this era's standards, she was already slightly late to marry, unless she was a highborn lady waiting for the right match.

Moreover, by the time she returned from Naath Island, several years would have passed, making her an old maiden.

"Hmph—"

However, the woman bearing the kraken emblem on her chest armor, upon hearing Viserys' words, just snorted lightly and sneered disdainfully.

"During this time, some men have courted me, but either they're too ugly, or too weak."

"They can't even conquer me in bed; why should I marry them?"

Asha Greyjoy was open-minded and proud; it was hard for any ordinary man to catch her eye.

She had only two conditions for seeking a partner: either the man had to be exceptionally handsome, captivating her at first sight, or he had to be capable of defeating her.

"Some time ago, in King's Landing, I met…"

"A woman."

Asha sat on the council table, picked a dried fruit from the table and tossed it into her mouth as if recalling something, then continued speaking.

Viserys, sitting in his chair, watched her. Knowing she wouldn't anger him over such trivial matters, he remained calm.

Yet, he noted the hesitation in her voice when she mentioned 'woman.'

Asha didn't keep him in suspense but continued.

"She was tall, the tallest woman I've ever seen, with broad shoulders but flat-chested. Her face was round and coarse, filled with freckles, with a row of buck teeth, a terrifyingly wide mouth, and plump lips resembling caterpillars."

"However, her eyes were beautiful, I mean truly—"

"Big and blue, innocent yet straightforward, and confident."

Listening to Asha's description, an image of a female knight emerged in Viserys' mind.

"Tarth."

"Lady Brienne of Tarth."

Viserys leaned back in his chair and spoke, surprising Asha this time. She hadn't expected the high and mighty king to notice such an ugly woman.

"You know her?"

"In fact, I invited her to King's Landing."

Viserys shook his head as he spoke. Brienne's father had died on the battlefield at the Green Fork, fighting the Others. Afterwards, with no male heir on Tarth Island, and the call to arms from Renly or Stannis not reaching this beautiful small island, they were spared from post-war retribution. Brienne became the new Lady of Tarth.

Viserys had the military academy send an invitation to Brienne to study in King's Landing, which she gladly accepted.

Asha and Brienne met under these circumstances and had a skirmish, where Asha ended up on the losing side, getting beaten up.

Viserys heard about the incident later, and rumors spread like wildfire through King's Landing, with tales of two women tearing down a tavern during a fight, and even absurd stories of a female giant emerging from the Kingswood.

However, the altercation led to Asha taking an interest in Brienne.

"We're digressing."

Viserys shook his head, bringing the conversation back on track. They were initially discussing the expedition to Naath Island, but Asha had veered off-topic. Viserys pulled the discussion back.

"It's a long voyage; are you sure about this?"

"Yes, I've thought it through!"

Asha noticed Viserys' change in tone, becoming serious. She too became earnest.

"I've nothing much to do in King's Landing; might as well seize this opportunity to travel, earn some merits."

Viserys promised her a castle and a title of Countess upon her return, independent of the Iron Islands. That was the primary reason Asha was willing to go.

"I've longed to command my own warship and trade around the city-states. Just never had the chance."

"You know your mission, and the Iron Throne won't provide much aid."

Viserys reminded.

"I know!"

"It's all up to me."

Asha spoke nonchalantly. Sailing the world and plundering was every Ironborn's dream, but Asha was born at the wrong time, missed the right opportunity, and had a formidable uncle.

"However, my only concern is Theon, Your Grace."

Speaking of her brother, Asha's smile faded.

"I can only entrust Theon to you, hoping you'll take good care of him, keeping him from straying."

"Aren't you confident in Lord Eddard Stark?"

"Even if Eddard donned black, Lady Catelyn would still discipline Theon well."

Viserys nodded in agreement.

His words made sense. Asha had met Catelyn and after pondering for a moment, she nodded slightly in agreement.

However, before they could finalize the specifics of the mission, a guard rushed in, delivering news that caused a peculiar expression to form on Viserys' face.

"Summon them all."

Chapter 624: Leaving the Red Keep

The scuffle among a few children within the Red Keep was initially insignificant; however, Daenerys's intervention escalated the matter.

It all began when Joffrey suddenly attacked three Naathi children - Missandei and her two brothers. Single-handedly, Joffrey managed to overpower the two boys.

But as he prepared to pounce on Missandei, Daenerys, who happened to be passing by the garden balcony above, witnessed the act. Beside her was Viserys's attendant, Jandry.

Consequently, Daenerys commanded Jandry to attack Joffrey and rescue the dark-skinned foreign girl.

What followed was a skirmish between Jandry and Joffrey, the true and false sons of Robert, engaging in a fierce brawl that alerted the court guards, eventually reaching the ears of King Viserys.

Inside the council hall of the Red Keep, the Kraken's Daughter, Asha Greyjoy, remained. Intrigued by the amusing incident, she insisted on staying, and Viserys paid her no mind. Before him stood a line of children, their heights varying like waves from left to right.

The smallest were the three Naathi children, followed by Joffrey. Jandry, two years older than Joffrey, bore a striking resemblance to Robert with his black short hair, towering height, and well-built physique, standing a head taller than Joffrey.

At the end of the line was Viserys's sister, Daenerys. The silver-haired young princess, the same age as Jandry and standing about the same height as Joffrey, was at the far right, holding the hem of her skirt, looking pitifully remorseful.

But Viserys knew better. This little girl, full of mischief, was perhaps even more difficult to manage than Rhaenys was at her age. The innocent demeanor she currently displayed could very well be a facade.

I admit my mistake.

But it's all an act.

"Speak,"

"What exactly happened?"

Viserys's gaze swept across the young boys and girls present. The two dark-skinned boys appeared to be the most injured, having failed to even land a hit on Joffrey. Following closely was Joffrey himself, who bore the marks of the fight.

Just by looking at them, it was hard for Viserys to deduce what exactly had transpired. Why would these children, who under normal circumstances wouldn't congregate, end up brawling?

It was quite interesting. The relationships among the children present were intricately intertwined. In the original trajectory of events, they all played significant roles. Yet now, they stood in a line before Viserys, heads bowed in admission of guilt.

"It was them."

Under Viserys's scrutinizing gaze, the youngsters remained silent with their heads down. However, Joffrey, looking somewhat battered by Jandry, clenched his teeth and played the victim.

"I was just passing through the garden when these foreigners suddenly charged at me and attacked!"

"I-I was merely defending myself."

"Liar!"

Before Joffrey could finish, the two girls standing at either end of the line raised their heads and simultaneously retorted.

Both girls momentarily paused, then exchanged glances. They spoke in Valyrian. Missandei, being a few years younger than Daenerys.

The two girls felt a fleeting sense of camaraderie, despite being strangers to each other. At this moment, they were allies standing up against a common adversary.

"He's lying!"

"Your Grace!"

The dark-skinned girl boldly stepped forward, now speaking in the Common Tongue.

"My brothers and I were playing in the garden when he charged at us like a mad bull, knocking down Missandeh, then beating up Missandlo."

The girl loudly accused Joffrey of his actions, exposing his lies.

Standing next to her, her brother Missandlo, who was beaten to a pulp by Joffrey, was in a state of fear, tugging at his sister's sleeve, pleading her to stop speaking.

"Missandei!"

His nose was still bleeding, but he lowered his voice, fearfully whispering.

They were strangers here, in the Valyrian's palace. What stature could a boy living in the palace have? They didn't know, but certainly, it was higher than theirs.

Missandlo and Missandeh, despite being severely beaten, looked fearful, while on the other side, Jandry, who had suffered some minor injuries with a bit of bruising around his mouth, held a remorseful demeanor, keeping his silence.

Jandry was unaware of his own status. All he knew was that he was a cursed bastard, and so was Prince Joffrey. But being a bastard of either Baratheon or Lannister surely held a higher status than his own.

He was merely following the princess's command to attack. Now, Jandry somewhat regretted his actions. He should have restrained Joffrey, not punched him in the face.

"Among the six children present, there's one liar, two boys, and three girls."

On the other side, leaning against a stone pillar, Asha Greyjoy, having enjoyed the spectacle for a while, couldn't help but chuckle, commenting on the situation.

The six youngsters present were momentarily stunned by her words, but soon realized her implication.

Asha's words weren't hard to decipher. Joffrey's face turned even more fearful, instinctively wanting to lie but got caught immediately. Missandlo, Missandeh, and the tallest among them, Jandry, all blushed in shame.

The rest of the matter simplified. Missandei and Daenerys took turns explaining the entire course of events.

Essentially, Joffrey, in a fit of rage, assaulted the guests from Naath, with Daenerys intervening in their defense. However, technically, Joffrey could be accused of attacking a princess.

"Your name is Missandei?"

Upon hearing the dark-skinned girl introduce herself, a strange expression crossed Viserys's face. Fate was indeed unpredictable; Daenerys had met her little handmaiden and confidante sooner than expected.

Subsequently, the parents of both sides, the envoy from Naath, Miraz, and Cersei, who was working in the laundry room, were summoned.

With an anxious expression, Cersei, heartbroken at Joffrey's injuries, cast a hateful gaze towards Jandry on the other side.

Technically, assaulting a prince or princess should warrant death or, at the very least, the amputation of a hand. However, Viserys wasn't that vindictive, especially since Daenerys was unharmed, and it was the assailant who got a beating instead.

At this moment, Viserys pondered a matter.

Joffrey was growing up, and it seemed increasingly inappropriate for him to reside in the Red Keep. Should he be sent away from the Red Keep?

Chapter 625: The North

The days in King's Landing passed swiftly, filled with matters of state and trivial affairs in between.

The Night's Watch, now formally integrated into the kingdom's army structure as the Fifth Legion, had finally reached the banks of the Neck after a long and arduous journey past the Twins, the domain of House Frey.

Currently, the kingdom's military focus was on key cities and strongholds, while ordinary castles and villages relied on the local nobles' private armies and villagers to protect their homes.

For instance, Oberyn's Second Legion was stationed near King's Landing, guarding the capital.

The Golden Company, now the Third Legion, had moved and established their strongholds and semi-permanent camps on the banks of the Neck post-war.

This was part of the future strategic direction of the realm. The White Walkers would return eventually, and when they did, the Night's Watch would be the first line of defense, followed by the Golden Company at the southern end of the Neck, and then King's Landing. If the capital fell, escape to the continent of Essos would be the next step.

Cities like Oldtown, Lannisport, and Gulltown, where the population was dense in Westeros, now relied on city garrisons for defense. They had become royal domains, much like Highgarden.

King Viserys planned to appoint governors in these important cities in the future. Competent individuals would rise, incompetent ones would fall, making these cities directly governed by the king, thus becoming engines of the national economy, unlike the missed development opportunities of the past.

Of course, King Viserys' plan was not merely about opening ports and prioritizing commerce. In the current scenario where internal productivity lagged and outside traders were affluent, opening ports could lead to a plundering of wealth. Steps needed to be taken cautiously, one at a time.

After crossing the Neck, the Night's Watch began establishing their foothold steadily. Meanwhile, another faction of the kingdom's navy, led by Count Jeffrey Bracken, landed in White Harbor, clearing the remaining wights.

White Harbor had once been ravaged by the Dothraki, and now, the kingdom's navy had little trouble stabilizing the region after their successful landing, clearing away the lingering wights with relative ease. However, the cold winds north of the Neck remained a significant hindrance.

The cold did not retreat with the vanquishing of the army of the dead. As human armies crossed the Neck, the icy and desolate landscape continued to prevail.

"I see no way humans can survive in such conditions," remarked a knight clad in a black cloak from the Night's Watch, anxiously observing the snowflakes falling from the sky, before turning to Eddard Stark beside him.

Although members of the Night's Watch were supposed to abandon their family crests, being far from home required some form of psychological solace. This knight from the South had never witnessed such an icy spectacle, and to him, the white snowflakes appeared as white devils.

"In reality, it's always like this north of the Wall, even colder than here," Eddard Stark, cloaked in black with the crest of the direwolf on his chest, his face weathered, responded.

"If the wildlings can survive, so can we."

He looked up at the gradually darkening sky, then around at the smooth land, finding it a suitable place to camp.

Eddard knew their journey for the day was coming to an end. He dismounted, stepping onto the snow-covered ground, and exhaled a long breath of white mist.

As the nightfall gradually enveloped the area, the march of the Night's Watch came to a halt.

"Halt!"

"Halt!"

"Set up camp!"

A mounted messenger rode through the army ranks, loudly proclaiming Commander Mormont's orders.

Creaking sounds resonated as the army gradually halted, with supply carriages moving forward, bringing fur tents for warmth, fire oil for lighting, and food for the evening.

But fire oil alone was insufficient to combat the cold; they needed combustible material. Although the cold climate had eradicated a large number of naturally occurring species, there were still some cold-resistant plants and animals. Upon receiving the orders to set up camp, the soldiers began gathering firewood from around to burn for warmth.

"Let's go, Sir Clifton," Eddard Stark, now just a common soldier with no official position, unlike his brother Benjen, who held a higher rank, said. Naturally, he had to personally gather firewood.

Although that was the case, nobody dared to humiliate him. After all, there were only over a thousand true Night's Watch soldiers, with tens of thousands of northern soldiers only nominally part of the Night's Watch. They could return home once their service was done.

The Stark family was still the Stark family, the direwolf's dominion over the North was deeply rooted. His son, although no longer the Warden of the North but a governor in-waiting, was merely a hostage temporarily residing in King's Landing.

Now, the sword Eddard Stark bore was no longer the ancestral greatsword 'Ice'.

The Valyrian steel greatsword Ice was confiscated after the Battle of Riverrun and had since been collecting dust in the royal treasury, not returned to the Stark family, perhaps as punishment for the war.

Alongside it in the treasury was 'Heartsbane' of House Tarly. Randyll Tarly had disappeared during the Battle of Riverrun, with neither his body found nor any trace of him, only his sword 'Heartsbane' was recovered and placed in the treasury alongside Ice.

People preferred to believe that Westeros' finest general, the stern Lord of Horn Hill, was melted on the battlefield by dragon fire, rather than the possibility of him hiding in some corner of the world, plotting his return.

Crack—

Eddard Stark cleaved the last piece of firewood with his sword, exhaled a misty breath, bent down to gather them all, and threw them into the fire.

At that moment, Commander Jeor Mormont, the newly arrived Maester Pylos, shivering in the cold, and 'Handless' Colin approached.

"Lord Eddard Stark."

Hearing the voice, Eddard looked up to see the men coming towards him, then stood upright, bowing his head slightly to Jeor Mormont in respect.

"Commander."

"There's something we'd like to discuss with you, Lord Stark," Commander Mormont said, his serious demeanor making Eddard slightly tense.

"What is it?"

"Come, you'll see."

Chapter 626: Direwolf Skull in the Ice Plains

The stern expression on the face of Commander Jeor Mormont seemed to foretell that the matter at hand was not good news.

The weather-beaten face of Eddard Stark mirrored the same sentiment. After a moment of contemplation, the Northerner gave a slight nod, his demeanor calm yet could easily be mistaken for arrogance or indifference.

"So be it, let's proceed," he said.

For a brief moment, Eddard forgot that he was now just a soldier of the Night's Watch and no longer the noble Duke of the North. He strode forward with a firm grip on his sword hilt, the grey wolf skin fluttering slightly over his black cloak with each step.

On the other side, 'Handless' Colin caught this scene and quickly glanced at Commander Mormont, noticing no objection from him.

After all, Mormont once pledged allegiance to the Stark family. Although his rank temporarily surpassed Eddard's, any arrogance on his part would be a dishonor. Jeor Mormont was not a man of such character.

"Lord Eddard Stark, we have met before. I am..."

Maester Pylos, wearing a chain around his neck, approached shakily.

Once a Grand Maester with a white beard, his maester's chain had been stripped away. Yet, Pylos somehow acquired another chain to adorn himself with. But in the Night's Watch, there were no rules from the Citadel, and no one bothered about his little schemes.

As Eddard passed by Maester Pylos, he merely nodded in acknowledgment after hearing Pylos' words.

"Maester Pylos, indeed we have met," he responded briefly, continuing on without waiting for Pylos to finish, leaving the pretend-limp old man trailing behind.

Eddard Stark, Commander Mormont, Maester Pylos, and their entourage hurried back to the scene of the incident. By now, many Night's Watch soldiers had gathered around, peering into the center of the crowd, their intermittent gasps of horror breaking the silence.

"Oh my gods."

"This is horrifying."

"Is this what we are up against in the future?"

Among the onlooking soldiers, many were southern nobles exiled to the frontier following the King's Landing trial. Some had never seen a White Walker before and only heard tales of their terror. However, now, witnessing the 'masterpiece' left behind by these monsters, panic inevitably set in.

In contrast, the soldiers from the North seemed more composed. Most surviving northern soldiers had faced the White Walkers in battle, with only a few recently recruited from the northern refugees.

They had fought these 'monsters' face to face, yet the grotesque scene before them was something they had never witnessed, leaving them exchanging worried glances and whispers.

"Make way!"

"Make way!"

"Commander Jeor Mormont!"

"Lord Eddard Stark!"

As Eddard and Commander Mormont arrived, the crowd parted, making way for them to reach the center of the scene.

"Raven" Yoren and other veteran members of the Night's Watch led the way. The crowd, out of respect, created a passage for the men to enter and behold the scene.

A sharp intake of breath was heard as Eddard, seeing the scene for the first time, couldn't help but gasp. His deep-set eyes narrowed as they scanned the horrifying scene before him.

The ground was littered with corpses and severed limbs, with frozen blood splattered across the soil and snow. Human arms and horse heads spiraled from a central point, creating a massive windmill-like pattern. From a bird's-eye view, it formed a sinister gigantic circle that was soul-chilling.

"These damned creatures are dabbling in 'art' again, are they?" Eddard's brow furrowed as he expelled a breath of misty air, turning to Commander Mormont.

The two had fought side by side against the White Walkers at the Wall and Winterfell. The first White Walker to be killed in modern history was slain by King Robert himself, and it was during that time Eddard and Jeor Mormont had first encountered the White Walkers' 'artistry'.

The creatures had a perverse fondness for arranging human and animal corpses into strange patterns, the meaning of which remained unclear.

Was it to instill fear? Did the White Walkers hope to deter humans?

Or was it some dark sacrificial ritual unknown to them, where the White Walkers formed these circles with corpses as offerings to some nefarious deity?

"Not just that," Commander Mormont, his balding head surrounded by a ring of white hair, shook his head as he replied.

"Torches!"

His stern face remained unchanged as he called for torches, exhaling a cloud of mist before stepping towards the center of the formation.

"Follow me, Lord Stark."

Eddard, somewhat puzzled by Mormont's intent, still followed him towards the center, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

A soldier of the Night's Watch, clad in black, handed a torch to Commander Mormont, who then proceeded to the heart of the formation, illuminating the area with the torchlight.

As the day had turned to dusk, the ominous circle's center was obscured from view. But as they approached and the torchlight dispelled the darkness, Eddard finally saw what lay at the core of the formation.

It was a massive wolf's head, larger than any Eddard had ever seen. Its once pristine fur was now filthy, matted with blood and dust. Its ferocious maw opened wide, showcasing formidable fangs. The pair of blood-red eyes stared unyieldingly at the two men, as if ready to snap at them at any moment.

"Is this... a direwolf?" Eddard stepped closer to examine the wolf's head, then crouched down for a closer inspection.

His hand gripped the dagger at his side, fearing a sudden attack from the presumed-dead creature. It wasn't the first time the White Walkers played such tricks.

There was a previous incident where human and animal corpses were arranged in a sinister formation. As human soldiers approached, the heads of the corpses suddenly screamed in unison, scaring the soldiers witless, leaving some with lasting psychological scars.

Eddard recognized this direwolf head as a symbol of the Stark family, an animal that should not exist south of the Wall.

"Do you think this is a warning, Lord Stark?" Commander Mormont, torch in hand, looked down at Eddard who was still crouched on the ground.

However, Eddard seemed to not hear him, his attention fixated on a small bow lying next to the direwolf's head. He picked it up and examined it closely.

As he turned the bow over, he saw a name etched into the handle in a childlike script:

Lyanna Stark.

Chapter 627: The Unpredictability of Human Hearts

Without a doubt, the severed head of the Arctic wolf serves as a chilling warning from the White Walkers.

"I recall His Majesty once roamed the North long ago. Hadn't he witnessed this grand formation?"

It's only from a bird's-eye view that the entirety of this ominous formation of severed heads can be discerned. If Viserys had soared across the skies on dragonback, he should've beheld this gruesome display. Yet...

"Silence, never dare question the King!"

Someone's speculative murmur is sternly rebuked, causing a stir amongst the bustling command tent of the Night's Watch. The disarrayed crowd is embroiled in heated discussions about the severed head formation, especially the Arctic wolf's head at its center, a naked warning from the White Walkers, signaling that the Starks are destined to tread this homeward path.

Amidst the commotion, Eddard Stark remains composed, his grey eyes fixated on the map before him—a comprehensive map of the North. At its center lays a petite wooden bow he had just found, one that had been Lyanna's training bow during her younger days. His recollections are vivid.

...

"This formation is freshly made. Although the icy climate north of The Neck has somewhat delayed the decay of the corpses, they haven't been dead for long," the discussion in the tent continues.

"All our patrol squads have returned without much loss. They might have been adventurers from the Free Cities, slain by the White Walkers," voices the foremost cavalryman of the Night's Watch, 'Handless' Corin, the former deputy commander of Shadow Tower. Renowned for his strength, he could endure a winter beyond the Wall, returning unscathed. His name is notorious among the Free Folk, many of whom loathe him for the widows and orphans left in his wake.

Drawing from his extensive experience beyond the Wall, Corin deduces that these individuals haven't been dead for long, perhaps only a few days. Others speculate that they could have been sent from the cities across the Narrow Sea.

The harsh winter has also touched the cities across the Narrow Sea. Aside from a snow disaster, more than one snowfall has blanketed Braavos, which shares a similar latitude with The Neck and thus, comparable seasons. However, The Neck has never experienced such cold, almost akin to beyond the Wall.

Moreover, the folks from the Free Cities have shown keen interest in the wars and calamities unfolding in Westeros. With the North deserted, it becomes their ground for exploration.

Their courage is commendable, albeit misguided. The White Walkers have made armies of hundreds of thousands crumble in fear, fleeing in defeat. It's not mere fear that drives men away.

While the fate of these adventurers or mercenaries from the Free Cities isn't mourned, 'Handless' Corin's words send a chill down the spines of everyone present, including the vocal Lord Steward of the North, Rickard Karstark.

Now, Rickard Karstark holds the reins of the northern army, albeit under the nominal command of the Night's Watch Commander Mormont.

Any defiance would be deemed rebellion.

Come the morrow, His Majesty would descend from the skies on Black Dread, engulfing him in dragonflame and casting him into the seven hells.

Rickard knows this well. His authority stems from Viserys holding Robb Stark hostage in King's Landing.

While Robb remains the nominal Warden of the North, without his presence, Rickard serves merely as a steward. If His Majesty were to detain Robb indefinitely, then Rickard could remain the 'Warden of the North' for life.

This revelation sows discord between lord and sovereign in the North.

The taste of power has ensnared the Earl of Karhold, a sensation he has never before experienced.

Even the northern lords, who yesterday toasted to his ascension as the Lord Steward of the North, once flocked around Eddard Stark. Yet, Eddard Stark faced his vassals with a cold demeanor.

Stark. Karstark. In essence, Karstark shares Stark blood, their lineage diverged only when a branch was established.

The ancestors of Karstark were granted Karhold, eventually adopting the name Karstark.

If a Stark could sit as Warden, why not a Karstark?

Especially in these changing times, with all but the North, Dorne, and the Iron Islands seeing new wardens seated, even Littlefinger...

These thoughts fuel Rickard's ambitions further. As 'Handless' Corin speaks, he steals a glance at his once-loyal liege, now donned in black.

Unbeknownst to Eddard Stark, his once devoted retainer, upon tasting power, has changed. Would he still serve as the trusted guardian for his son?

Northerners are straightforward, lacking the cunning to navigate the realm of power, a truth reflected in their bloody history whenever they ventured south.

Now, Eddard Stark ponders 'Handless' Corin's words. If the deputy commander of Shadow Tower is to be believed, the White Walkers were here not long ago, a revelation that silences the tent.

"Weren't the White Walkers supposed to have retreated beyond the Wall?"

"Without dragons, how are we to battle the White Walkers?"

The clamor within the Night's Watch tent resumes, both southern nobles banished here and northern lords have grown dependent on dragonfire.

"Shall we seek His Majesty's aid?"

Their courage to face the White Walkers without dragons has waned. Only with dragons at the forefront, do they dare confront the fearsome foes.

"The White Walkers won't engage us in battle!"

Commander Mormont, standing amidst the crowd, raises his voice against the cacophony in the tent.

"Otherwise, they wouldn't have retreated, leaving behind this formation of severed heads to frighten us away."

His words command silence, for no one dares defy the Commander, whose authority is backed by the Iron Throne. Any defiance against Commander Mormont is a rebellion against the Iron Throne itself.

And they all remember the fate of the last rebel.

Chapter 628: Resolve

"If there's any truth to Lord Stark's words," the old Commander Mormont started, his face taking on a grave aspect.

"Then the Night King has indeed resurrected the ancient Kings of the North, including the recent members of the Stark family, to fight under his command."

Speaking thus, the mention of the Night King resurrecting the dead sent a shiver down Mormont's spine, a memory of the dread when the wights first came back to life.

Now, if these ancient kings still possessed the wisdom of their living days, each one of them was a brilliant leader in their own right. The Night's Watch would find it hard to gain any advantage against such formidable foes.

"It seems the rumor about King Robert being wounded on the battlefield by Lyanna Stark wasn't just wind."

With a sigh, Mormont continued, "We must be vigilant. Although the White Walkers have not engaged us and chose to retreat, we must remain on guard for a sudden counterattack."

"In dire times, I shall beseech His Majesty for aid, requesting the dispatch of Dragon Riders."

"Yes!" The officers in the command tent, including Eddard Stark, echoed in unison, their faces stern.

Meanwhile, in the distant Red Keep, after half a month of deliberation, Viserys and the royal council unanimously approved the decision to send troops to Naath.

The Iron Throne decided to dispatch a fleet of two thousand men, composed of several large main ships and dozens of escort vessels, with the former captain of the Black Wind, Asha Greyjoy, serving as the commander of the forces and emissary of the Iron Throne.

The fleet would set sail from King's Landing, first docking at Pentos for supplies, and then traveling along the western coast of Essos, visiting the surrounding Free Cities along the way.

Their first stop would be the ruins of Myr, which had been ravaged by the Dothraki, and the emerging powers in the region.

Myr had faced a catastrophic assault from several Khalasars after they were repelled in Pentos. The Dothraki had vented their rage upon the people of Myr, ransacking the city for days, leaving it in ruins.

Nevertheless, with its ancient trade roots, Myr rose from the ashes. Many Myrish who were abroad returned to their homeland, establishing a new city upon the ruins, aspiring to become the new masters of this land.

The Iron Throne's first stop was to visit Myr, followed by a visit to the disputed lands of Tyrosh and Lys.

Once a prosperous land under the Freehold of Valyria, the disputed lands fell into chaos after the fall of the great empire.

It was briefly controlled by Volantis before being overthrown. With the support of the Braavosi and the Durandon and Targaryen families, Pentos and Tyrosh scorched the land into a barren wasteland.

Subsequently, Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys established the short-lived Kingdom of the Three Daughters to combat the continuous invasions by Volantis. However, after Volantis lost interest in the disputed lands, the kingdom quickly collapsed into civil strife.

Triangles represent stability.

Perhaps once Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys were a stable triad, but now, after Myr was scorched by the Dothraki, the tension between Tyrosh and Lys over the disputed lands escalated from a simmer to a boiling point.

Both cities desired control over this territory and had even sent envoys to win the support of Pentos, the stronghold of the ancient Targaryen family.

Due to geopolitical reasons, the only powers that could influence the politics of the disputed lands were the newly risen empire across the Narrow Sea and Volantis.

Aside from the fact that Viserys had not yet proclaimed himself emperor, the world already recognized the combined territories of Westeros, Andalos, and Pentos as an empire, considered to be the most formidable force under the heavens.

Thus, this voyage was of utmost importance, concerning the stability of the disputed lands and the diplomatic relations between the trade cities and the Targaryen family.

Whether Asha Greyjoy could perform well, Viserys wasn't sure. He had considered having Littlefinger accompany her, but after much thought, he dropped the idea.

Petyr Baelish and Asha Greyjoy, simply put, were oil and water. Asha was fierce and uncompromising, while Littlefinger was full of schemes.

Placing them together would either result in Asha cutting down the Governor of the Vale or Littlefinger plotting her demise in foreign lands.

Moreover, the main task of the Governor of the Vale was to focus on the development and control of the Vale.

The Targaryen's grip over the Vale wasn't strong as they hadn't conquered the land themselves.

Although House Baelish originated from the Vale, its influence was minuscule, almost non-existent, and they still needed the support of the traditional nobility of the Vale to propagate the royal decrees.

The Vale was the least reformed territory, mainly due to its geographical challenges; many villages hidden within the mountains were hard to reach unless guided by local nobles.

Of course, this lack of influence didn't imply a rebellion from the Vale's nobility. They didn't have the courage yet. Facing the royal decree from the Iron Throne, they trembled, but Littlefinger, with his power acquired through treachery, needed to exert extra effort to govern this land.

The royal council officially informed the envoy from Naath, Miraz, that the Iron Throne had decided to send a fleet of two thousand men to Naath. They would be stationed on the islands near Naath to protect the Naathi from pirates and slavers.

Naturally, the Naathi were overjoyed. Miraz had been anxious since his cousins had a brawl with a prince named Joffrey Waters half a month ago.

Although Miraz had learned the Common Tongue during his time as a slave, he was not familiar with the situation in Westeros and didn't understand the significance of Joffrey's identity.

Yet, it seemed the outcome was that Joffrey was punished for assaulting a princess, and his mother Cersei was reprimanded for her lax discipline.

"Thank you for your aid, Your Grace."

In the study of Maegor's Holdfast, as Viserys informed Miraz of the Iron Throne's decision to send troops to Naath, the envoy from Naath, with tears in his eyes, attempted to kneel before Viserys but was stopped by a wave of the king's hand.

Chapter 629: The Idol

The people of Nass were, of course, unaware that the Iron Throne had merely used the pretense of dispatching troops to Nass Island to extend the kingdom's reach across the Narrow Sea, and even further to the Summer Sea, Slaver's Bay, the Basilisk Isles, and the Sothoryos continent.

The Targaryen fleet had established an outpost on the other end, forging connections with the native kingdoms and tribes, thereby expanding their influence in preparation for future trade, mining, exchanges, and warfare.

Viserys then remembered something and turned to Milraz to inquire,

"By the way, Daenerys mentioned that your sister Missandei wishes to stay in King's Landing?"

Viserys recalled Daenerys coming to him not long ago, speaking of Missandei's wish to stay in King's Landing, even desiring to study at the citadel.

A child with a high aptitude for learning, her golden eyes brimmed with the thirst for knowledge, overcoming the fear of being in a foreign land.

Yet, for Missandei to stay in King's Landing, her cousin's consent was required. Fearing to address Milraz directly, she had sought her good friend Daenerys.

But the silver-haired girl couldn't command Milraz, thus she sought Viserys' help, hoping he could convince Milraz to let the girl remain in Westeros.

Ever since the conflict between the Nass children and Joffrey half a month ago, Daenerys and Missandei, destined to be best friends, miraculously came together once again.

With no companions in the Red Keep, Daenerys found solace in Missandei's company. Renes had grown into adulthood, albeit without the formal ceremony, and with the Duke of Highgarden's princess immersed in daily affairs, assisting Viserys, she had no time for childish play.

On the other hand, Sansa, of similar age, was too shy; although friends, they weren't inseparable.

Missandei's arrival was timely. Despite being a few years younger, the Nass girl and Daenerys got along splendidly.

"Your Grace,"

Hearing Viserys' sudden inquiry, the Nass envoy, donned in a grey robe revealing his chest, revealed a bitter smile.

Missandei had mentioned her desire to stay multiple times, to learn advanced knowledge and then return to benefit her homeland.

Yet, Milraz couldn't bear to leave his cousin alone in King's Landing, for regardless of the arrival of reinforcements, he must return home.

The people of Nass harbored a strong yearning for home.

Now that Viserys had brought it up, Milraz couldn't deny him, thus with a bitter smile, he acquiesced.

"Let her stay if she wishes."

"It's a blessing for her to serve as the Princess's handmaiden."

Hearing her cousin's consent, the eavesdropping Missandei outside the door cheered, her beautiful, pure golden eyes shimmering with joy beneath her slightly dark skin.

Missandei and Daenerys had been eavesdropping for a while, startling Milraz within the study. Eavesdropping on the king was a grave offense.

Yet, Viserys only chuckled, shaking his head helplessly. He had known all along about the girls eavesdropping outside, even aware that Daenerys had sent away his attendant Robb.

Although the expedition to Nass Island was set, it wasn't a venture to set sail shortly. Deciding the route and primary objectives alone had taken half a month.

The royal councilors debated daily on which route to take, whether to visit Myr or Tyrosh first, or Lys, then loop back to Tyrosh?

Every stop's duration, what Asha Greyjoy should heed, all had to be clear beforehand, nothing could be improvised.

Additionally, Viserys' personal letters were crucial.

The King's personal letters were tied to the kingdom's diplomacy; what to write, the choice of words, the attitude to express, what to say, and what not to say, all needed prior preparation.

This task was mainly handed to Tyrion. The imp had racked his brains over these letters.

The groundwork for this venture had been laid, yet when the actual action commenced, more tasks awaited.

As the commander of the expedition fleet, Asha Greyjoy had to personally select soldiers, prepare supplies for the long journey.

And establish contact with these city-states in advance to avoid misunderstandings; mistaking them for hostile forces would cause a massive blunder.

These preparations might take over a month. Bad news for Milraz, eager to return home, but good news for Missandei who had yet to bid farewell.

Her other two brothers, Missanlo and Missande, were also leaving. She had at least a month of regret to look forward to.

Nightfall.

The Red Keep was silent at night, save for the Unsullied soldiers patrolling with lanterns.

Half a year ago, a masked assailant had sneaked into the Red Keep, seemingly to steal, killing two Unsullied soldiers but was soon surrounded by more.

The assailant escaped the Red Keep, with Unsullied in pursuit. Eventually, his body was found not far from the Keep, still warm with wounds, dressed identically to the assailant.

Such incidents were rare but not impossible. After all, the Red Keep was the royal palace of Westeros; desperate individuals might take the risk.

Thus, post-incident, the Unsullied commander, Grey Worm, intensified patrols, from pairs to groups of five, designating areas near the Red Keep as restricted zones.

At this moment, in the Godswood behind the Red Keep, Viserys sat alone amidst fallen leaves, not resting in the King's chamber in Maegor's Holdfast.

A flame burnt in his palm, the same golden wisp of fire that ignited months ago.

However, over the months, it had grown slightly from a spark, albeit very slowly.

Viserys stared intently at the flame, feeling a sudden tightness in his heart, yet his hands didn't cease their motion. He watched as the flame merged with the nameless idol he had seized from Gillian.

The next moment, the Godswood was ablaze with golden light.

Chapter 630: Fusion

"What happened?"

In the tower of Mege, Yaliene sat on the feather bed, chatting with her cousin Renis, when suddenly, a golden light shone into the room from the outside.

The queen of Westeros, lifting her skirt, hurried to the window alongside the ruling princess, overlooking the golden glow emanating from the Godswood below, as fierce as the blazing sun.

"Sansa!"

Immediately, Yaliene called her maid to swiftly inform the Unsullied soldiers to investigate the situation.

The loyal Red Keep guards, of course, needed no queen's orders; in fact, their reaction was quicker than Yaliene's. As the golden light soared into the sky, the patrolling Unsullied soldiers promptly formed a shield wall, rapidly surrounding the direction of the Godswood.

"Quick, quick, quick!"

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

The Unsullied soldiers, vigilant and ready, surrounded the Godswood, unafraid of the unknown golden light emanating from within, their shields raised as they converged towards the source of the golden light.

The Godswood of the Red Keep had elms, redwoods, and poplar groves, situated at the rear of the keep, overlooking the mouth of Blackwater River.

At the heart of the Godswood stood a colossal oak, its branches laden with smokeberry vines, now shimmering under the golden glow.

As the Unsullied soldiers trampled on the fallen leaves within the Godswood, the nearing golden firelight also illuminated their cheeks.

As they drew nearer, they could see a faint figure shrouded in the golden flames.

The eyes of the Unsullied were steadfast, but seeing a figure amidst the flames, their throats couldn't help but tremble slightly, gripping their spears and shields tighter.

This had surpassed their understanding, reaching a non-human realm; they did not know what kind of adversary they were facing.

"Who goes there?!"

One of the soldiers couldn't help but inquire sharply in Valyrian.

However, it seemed that only now did the figure seated within the golden flames awaken.

He slightly raised his head, realizing the ruckus he'd caused; perhaps not just the Red Keep, but the whole of King's Landing would be discussing this come morning.

"Stand down!"

"Let no one come near."

A familiar voice emanated from the golden flames. The Unsullied surrounding the Godswood were momentarily stunned upon hearing the voice, but soon realized who the figure amidst the flames was. By now, who else in the Seven Kingdoms could bathe in fire unscathed?

"Yes, Your Grace!"

Whoosh—

In an instant, all the Unsullied surrounding the Godswood knelt on one knee and hastily retreated, encircling the Godswood, forbidding anyone to approach.

Even Yaliene, Renis, and other women who arrived later wanting to take a peek were denied entry.

The primary standard for the Unsullied executing commands was the word of Viserys; any conflicting orders from others would be disregarded.

Now in the Godswood, without any disturbances, Viserys' focus was entirely on the nameless idol in his hands.

This was one of the treasures left behind by Gillian Lannister. Gillian had once explored Valyrian ruins and was among the few who came out alive.

Gillian held many secrets, including his covert presence by Viserys' side, which, after being exposed, led to his suicide by poison. However, his body disappeared without a trace.

At first, Viserys thought Tywin had people steal the body, but according to current information, the tomb Tywin set up for his brother was a cenotaph; Gillian's body wasn't there.

How Gillian's body vanished on its own, no one knew.

However, not long ago, when Viserys was browsing his private storage, he unintentionally touched this nameless idol with horned head, and a special power subtly emerged, attracting a certain trait within him, drawing his attention to it.

This sensation was unfamiliar to Viserys as he had never experienced such a reaction before. This idol, unearthed from Valyrian ruins, seemed to crave a certain power from him – the golden ethereal flames that had ignited within him not long ago.

But facing this inexplicable situation, Viserys was not alarmed; instead, he delved into contemplation. He did not hastily merge the golden flames with this nameless idol, nor did fear drive him to smash and discard it.

Subsequently, Viserys tested everything in the storage room one by one, and, astonishingly, found another item, which was also extremely interested in the golden flames within him, exhibiting a strong attraction.

It felt like a gluttonous child encountering a delicious cake; it was instinctive.

This was a gigantic raven skull that Viserys found in an unnamed cave in the Stormlands before the battle at Bronze Gate. According to the Three-Eyed Raven's memories, he had flown here with his sword Dark Sister and plunged the blade into this massive pale raven skull, subduing it.

Valyrian steel seemed to have a strong magic-suppressing effect; after Dark Sister was inserted, the white raven skull ceased vibrating, and the unprecedented massive storm over the Narrow Sea gradually subsided. Daenerys was born during this storm.

Before the battle at Bronze Gate, Viserys had taken Dark Sister and also this massive pale raven skull. From that time, he felt a trace of inexplicable power within the skull.

According to the documents he found, the only entities related to ravens and storms seemed to be the legendary Storm God from the Ironborn religion.

'The Storm God is the eternal enemy of the Drowned God, residing in the halls within clouds, with ravens as his servants, laying traps to lead the Ironborn towards their demise.'

Ancient rumors claimed the servants of the Storm God were ravens, while others said the Storm God himself was a raven.

Viserys found this skull extraordinary, and had once invited Melisandre, 'Mage' Maester Marwyn, and others to study it, but they could not provide any explanation. Hence, this raven skull had been kept in his storage.

Now, this entity also seemed interested in the golden flames within him, so Viserys placed the nameless idol from Valyrian ruins and the massive pale raven skull together.

After much deliberation, Viserys chose to pick up the nameless idol.

Chapter 631: A Miracle

Viserys found himself at a crossroads of choice and he chose the idol, a decision arrived at after deep contemplation.

His reasons were manifold, one of which was the idol's origin from the ancient Valyrian ruins.

The mysterious black mist within Viserys traced its roots to these Valyrian ruins, even its manifestation was articulated in High Valyrian.

This reinforced the myriad connections between them.

The last time a grey mist emerged from the Valyrian ruins, this unnamed idol similarly dispersed it.

The second reason was, upon Viserys's observation, the power brought forth by the golden flames within him seemed somewhat weaker in the unnamed idol compared to the white crow skull.

Both the unnamed idol and the white crow skull harbored a mysterious 'trait', which Viserys found hard to articulate, temporarily referred to as 'divine power' or 'divinity', transcending the mundane to a superior consciousness or force.

They hid themselves well; even after Viserys scanned with his strong psychic power time and again, he discerned nothing from them.

However, once the mysterious golden flame ignited within Viserys, the divinity hidden within the white crow skull and the unnamed idol was suddenly drawn out.

They both craved Viserys's power, while Viserys was somewhat helpless towards the mysterious golden flame burning within him, as it existed in nothingness, untouchable and unburnable, even when placed before a twig, it failed to ignite.

Now that both mysterious entities were so eager to attain it, Viserys could guess that when the two items truly contacted and merged, some magical transformation would surely occur.

Of course.

Whether this change would be for better or worse, he wasn't sure.

But one thing was certain, doing nothing would lead to no breakthrough.

Therefore, after weighing his options, Viserys chose to merge one of them with the golden flame to see what would happen. If it turned out well, all would be fine. If not, he'd address the issues as they arose, the primary goal being to understand what the golden flame was.

The unnamed idol, having relatively less 'divinity', became the best subject for experimentation.

Viserys even left the royal quarters of Maegor's Holdfast for the seldom visited Godswood behind the Red Keep, fearing some uncontrollable circumstances might endanger his family, wife, and children.

But reality laid bare before him, Viserys's caution and prudence weren't unfounded.

Even though he chose the one with less 'divinity' among the two, uncontrollable situations still arose.

Now he could not stop, but could only strive to merge the golden flame with the unnamed idol.

"Once more—"

The silver-gold haired young man sat cross-legged in the center of Godswood, his handsome face tightened as he gritted his teeth, his violet eyes filled with determination.

In the Godswood, the ethereal golden flame enveloped the silver-haired youth, the golden glow pierced through the leaves above, cut through the clouds overhead, and shot straight into the sky!

The golden pillar of light soared from Aegon's High Hill, from the Red Keep's position, reaching skyward and earthward, even though it was deep into the night and many had retired to bed, King's Landing, as the capital of Westeros, buzzed with nightlife and was extraordinary lively.

Many commonfolk in King's Landing, drunk mercenaries, Gold Cloaks on guard, nobles from the Seven Kingdoms visiting King's Landing, and traders,

Now they all set aside what they were doing, dumbfounded as they stared at the magical spectacle originating from the Red Keep on Aegon's High Hill.

"This is.."

In the center of King's Landing, Melisandre, the Vice Principal of the Theological College, stood atop a high tower, staring blankly at the golden flame, her eyes filled with dread, panic, and deep confusion.

"Miss!"

"Miss! Come look quickly!"

On the other hand, in an estate belonging to House Tyrell of Starfall, 'Little Rose' Margaery Tyrell was just about to retire to bed, but was awakened by her maid.

Though slightly displeased, Margaery always remembered her grandmother's teachings, that as a noble lady, she shouldn't lash out like a shrew, but should learn to control her emotions.

She took a deep breath, trying to maintain a sweet smile on her face as she asked, "What is it, Yara?"

"I'll go take a look."

But Margaery's words were cut off halfway, as if choked in her throat, she stood there stupefied, her eyes wide as she stared at the golden light soaring into the sky in the distance, her face filled with disbelief.

To the commoners, this magical scene was nearly a...miracle.

Miss Margaery Tyrell's mind went blank, her mouth slightly ajar, at this moment, only one thought ran through her mind as she muttered,

"Gods above."

Then as if snapping back to reality, she shivered slightly.

"The Gods are manifesting!"

"Quick! Yara! We must make a wish now! If we make a wish now the Gods will surely grant it!"

Margaery's words seemed to awaken Yara from a dream, her best friend and maid, Yara Tyrell, also shivered slightly, suddenly understanding.

"Yes! Miss is right! The Gods are manifesting!"

"We must make a wish now!"

Then, Margaery and Yara, both girls from House Tyrell, sincerely made their wishes towards the golden light soaring from Aegon's High Hill.

They closed their eyes, assumed a prayer gesture, touching their fingers to their foreheads, their expressions uncharacteristically devout.

"May the Gods bless, my wish is to...become the King's Queen."

"Although this sort of steals Margaery's wish, but..."

"The King is just too handsome!"

Margaery's maid, Yara Tyrell, closed her eyes, then imagined herself as the Queen and couldn't help but shiver slightly with excitement.

On the other hand, the delicate and pretty curly brown-haired Rose family's beautiful young lady was also sincerely making a wish.

"May the Gods bless, I hope to become a high and mighty Queen."

Both girls began making wishes at the same time, then opened their eyes together, gazing at the gradually dissipating golden light in the distance, and shared a smile.

Chapter 632: Miraxis

In the distant Aegon's High Hill, beyond the Red Keep, lies the sacred Godswood.

The miraculous golden pillar, which had fueled discussions far and wide, gradually dissipated, leaving behind specks of gold dancing in the thin air.

The Unsullied stood steadfast, their spears and shields forming a tight ring around the Godswood, their cold eyes forbidding anyone from entering the sacred grove.

Anxious faces of Queen Aelinor, Princess Rhaenys, Daenerys and others lingered outside the woods, wondering about Viserys' current state.

"I apologize, my Lord."

Oberyn and other councilors from the Small Council had also arrived, but they were refused entry by the stern-faced commander of the Unsullied, who spared no one's dignity, not even the queen or the princess. Hence, Oberyn, Illyrio, Varys, and others had no choice but to wait outside.

Inside the Godswood, as the golden glow faded, Viserys remained seated, clutching a faceless statue, his face contemplative.

"It's been long,"

A soft sigh of a woman abruptly resonated in Viserys' mind, causing his eyes to narrow.

"Who are you?"

Outside, the Unsullied encircled the Godswood, while within, Viserys sat with a grave expression.

For he had traced the sudden voice in his mind to the faceless goddess statue he held.

A talking stone? This surely touched upon one of the most mysterious forces in this world. Viserys, being among the strongest of men, knew that if anything were to happen, none could protect him, not the Unsullied outside nor the mighty armies.

Yet, Viserys remained calm. It wasn't arrogance but a preparedness for unseen changes that had been cultivated over time.

"I am Miraxis."

The voice from the faceless statue echoed again in Viserys' mind.

This time, Viserys discerned that the entity spoke High Valyrian, albeit slightly different from what he was accustomed to.

It seemed like a dialect of High Valyrian, strange but understandable to a keen ear. Viserys was not unfamiliar with it, for this ancient Valyrian language was something Maester Marwyn had been diligently studying.

Human languages evolve over centuries; a few hundred or thousand years could bring about significant changes.

"Ancient Valyrian."

"Your name is Miraxis."

The silver-gold haired young man continued to sit on the ground, his violet eyes reflecting a hint of hesitation.

"Could you be…"

With the dark mist within him, Viserys had developed a keen interest in the history of the now fallen Freehold of Valyria.

But the once glorious empire now lay in ruins, its magnificent history seemingly erased by invisible hands.

It was puzzling how the mighty empire that once dominated the world could have its history forgotten so swiftly post-calamity, to the extent that not even the names of the Forty Families who ruled Valyria could be recalled.

The Valyrians had left many descendants, exquisite cities, and grand architecture from Dragonstone to the Empire of Ghiscari, from the Summer Isles to the Great Grass Sea. Yet, their history was forgotten. Was this reality?

Despite it being less than a millennium since Valyria's fall, detailed information was scarce. Scholars like Maester Marwyn were piecing together clues from sparse fragments to unravel the truth.

Miraxis. Viserys had come across this name.

But it wasn't the third of the five dragons, the deep blue female dragon, or 'Conqueror Aegon's' sister Rhaenys' dragon. It was the name of a true ancient deity worshipped by the Valyrians.

'Conqueror' Aegon's sister had named her dragon after this ancient goddess, as had Viserys when naming his dragons.

"I am the Lord of Raging Seas!"

A deep, authoritative, and oppressive voice reverberated in his mind, confirming his suspicion.

Though the faceless statue depicted a graceful woman, the entity was the God of Seas from Valyrian lore. A true deity wouldn't find itself at the mercy of a mortal.

Yet, the majestic voice didn't startle Viserys. He held the deity in his hand.

Had Miraxis retained a fraction of her power from her prime, she wouldn't have found herself in such a predicament. Any deity with a shred of dignity wouldn't allow itself to be held by a mortal.

"What is this statue? How did you end up like this?" Viserys inquired calmly.

There was a long pause before Miraxis spoke again.

Indeed, before proceeding, each needed to understand who the other was. Viserys had learned her name, but the 'Lord of Raging Seas', Miraxis, had yet to learn about the silver-haired young man before her.

"My name is Viserys Targaryen."

"A king among humans."

Viserys revealed his identity succinctly. It seemed Miraxis had been asleep for an indeterminate amount of time, and it was Viserys who had awakened her. Instead of explaining the intricacies of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, he opted for simplicity: he was a king among humans.

His words instantly resonated with Miraxis. However, she seemed more intrigued by his last name.

She could feel the ancient and sacred Valyrian bloodline coursing through Viserys' veins, but she hadn't expected it to be from the lesser-known Targaryen lineage.

And now he was a so-called human king?

Miraxis could sense the Valyrian power in the young man before her, yet it amazed her that Viserys hailed from the relatively insignificant Targaryen household.

And now, he stood as a king among humans?

Chapter 633: Flames of Faith

"You're from House Targaryen."

Upon hearing this, Melisys remained silent for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts before speaking, "In truth, I am not entirely Melisys."

The woman's words caused Viserys to furrow his brow in confusion. One moment she claimed to be Melisys, the next she denied it. What was the truth?

"I am but a remnant of her," she continued.

"I don't even know if she's alive or dead anymore." Yet, without waiting for further questions, she eagerly began to explain.

During the Doom of Valyria, the continent fractured with volcanic eruptions, floods, earthquakes, and rains of fire. Thick smoke covered the land, and Valyrian cities turned to ruins. The people either perished or suffered greatly. Even dragons and the noble dragon-riding families could not escape the catastrophe.

All attempted to flee on the backs of dragons, but none succeeded. It was as if the gods had cursed the continent. The only survivors were the Targaryens on Dragonstone. The deities of Valyria—Lord Baelor of Death, Lord Vargar of Molten Fire, Sun God Tyrex, and Lady Melisys of the Raging Seas—all vanished without a trace.

Without the divine intervention of Valyrian deities, the continent was lost, becoming the 'Land of the Cursed Demons.'

The woman standing before him, embedded within the statue of Melisys, was a mere fragment of the Sea Goddess. She survived on the faith of the people. This faith was the primary force sustaining the gods.

Every ancient deity had statues or tokens with fragments like this one. These remnants helped the gods gather faith and responded to their followers' prayers. Unless the original deity perished, these fragments would gradually fade away over time, and the prayers of their followers would lose their effect.

During the Doom, she felt the fall of grand temples of Valyria and the annihilation of other fragments of Melisys. This particular fragment was spared due to its insubstantial nature, narrowly evading the catastrophic force that consumed the continent.

To protect herself, she went into a deep slumber, only to be reawakened by Viserys. Now, she sensed no other fragments in the world.

Unable to detect the presence of Lady Melisys or any other fragments, she felt utterly alone.

"Is that so?" Viserys said, his eyes wide with astonishment. The mysteries of Valyria had always been obscured, much like the smoky veil covering its ruins. But this fragment of Melisys was a direct witness and survivor of the Doom. The truths she revealed flowed effortlessly.

Many of Viserys's questions were answered. Yet, as more was revealed, even more questions arose. The more he learned, the more he believed that the Doom of Valyria was no natural disaster but a calamity wrought by man.

Who could have possibly brought such devastation upon the great human empire of Valyria? According to Melisys, the Valyrians were protected by powerful ancient gods. Who had the might to overpower or even kill them, leaving them powerless to prevent the empire's fall?

"Who were Valyria's enemies?" Viserys couldn't help but voice his burning question. Sadly, the fragment of Melisys couldn't provide an answer.

Recognizing the limitations of the fragment, Viserys realized he'd been too impatient. He knew he'd someday return to the enigmatic lost continent of Valyria.

Viserys then made a request to the fragment, seeking answers to his many questions. In return, she would draw sustenance from the golden flame within him. Without this flame, she'd have to return to her deep slumber, potentially forever. Reigniting such a flame was a rare feat, accomplished perhaps once in a millennium.

However, she warned him that her knowledge was limited, and she'd only assist within her capacity. In return, she'd need the golden flame within him to 'sustain her life.' Viserys readily agreed.

"How should I address you?" he asked.

After a brief pause, she responded with a hint of melancholy, "Call me Melisys. I am the last remnant of her in this world."

"Very well."

Viserys nodded and then, recalling her earlier mention of the golden flame, inquired, "Melisys, what exactly is this golden flame within me?"

"The Flame of Faith," she replied promptly.

"You've won the faith of your people. It's the foundation, the first step to becoming a god. There are many gods in this world, representing nations, leaders, or symbols of hope. All possess a unique trait stemming from faith."

This aligned with Viserys's earlier hypothesis regarding divine characteristics. He had labeled it 'divinity,' while Melisys termed it 'faith.'

Chapter 634: Migration of Populace

The sudden golden shimmer over the Red Keep was certainly hard to conceal. That night, many witnessed this spectacle, lasting for almost a quarter of an hour.

Subsequently, this event became the talk of the town for King's Landing's residents. Some claimed that a treasure left by the Conqueror had been found beneath the Red Keep, suggesting that whoever possesses it could control dragons. Others believed it was a manifestation of the Seven Gods, drawing parallels to the legendary tale of the coronation of a past king on the shores of the Narrow Sea.

Rumors of Viserys's impending coronation once again rose to prominence amidst these tales.

However, this miraculous event was more localized than the previous appearance of the Red Comet in the sky, only witnessed in King's Landing and the Blackwater Bay. Many merchants who visited King's Landing saw it firsthand, and with time, word spread.

The golden spectacle emerged from behind the Red Keep on Aegon's High Hill, and all the gossip inevitably pointed to Viserys.

There were old whispers in King's Landing about the King possessing magical powers. These rumors ran rampant, and spies from various factions sent this information to their masters. Amidst these tales, Viserys's image became even more enigmatic.

Those with ulterior motives would instinctively lower their voices when mentioning his name, even looking towards the southeast, fearing that he might magically overhear them from the distant Aegon's High Hill.

Yet, Viserys did not possess such powers, and even if he did, he wouldn't bother monitoring an entire city. Solving problems as they arose was more his style.

The recent 'miracle' caused quite a stir in King's Landing. Up close, the Unsullied, palace maids, attendants, and the council of the Iron Throne 'witnessed' the event.

The source of the golden light was indeed Viserys. There were no gods involved, just their king, deep in the godswood, stirring up this phenomenon and commanding the Unsullied to seal off the vicinity.

The council of the Iron Throne remained tight-lipped, not daring to speak much about it. Those closest to Viserys felt an even more profound awe.

The first Unsullied to enter the godswood must have seen something, but their tight lips revealed nothing.

Hence, this 'miracle' became taboo among King's Landing's elite.

"The Night's Watch has bypassed Carlin Bay, reclaiming White Harbor."

"They're splitting forces, with one heading to Wildling Camp and the other to Howood City."

"It seems there's intent to sail up the White Knife River to Sevan City and Winterfell."

"That's risky."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"So, they probably abandoned that plan and are advancing cautiously."

Inside the council chamber of the Red Keep, the king and his council discussed the northern war. Yet, few noticed a new statue of a horned woman with an obscured face.

The war to reclaim the North proceeded systematically. The White Walkers, as anticipated, didn't resist fiercely but vanished, leaving behind sparse armies of the dead, which, though ferocious in groups, now posed little threat.

The Night's Watch steadily moved north.

"What of the Three Sisters?"

Viserys, looking at the map, remembered the islands.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Varys hesitated before explaining, "The Three Sisters have been deserted."

"Why? Were they attacked by White Walkers?"

Viserys was taken aback, but Varys shook his head.

"No, Your Grace. It's not like the Iron Islands, where White Walkers sailed to attack."

The impact of White Harbor's fall led the islanders to flee. There were many reasons: fear, dread, and the fact that the entire North had turned into a hellish landscape, causing trade to cease, cutting off the Three Sisters' supplies. Without warmth, fuel, candles, and food, the islanders left for survival.

These were concerns overlooked by the lords, but were real issues for the common folk.

"Lord Triston Sunderland of the Three Sisters had sought allegiance with Lord Baelish for help, hoping for refugees to repopulate the islands. However, Petyr Baelish seems to have plans of his own."

The council members chuckled.

"Euron Greyjoy of the Iron Islands also requested settlers from the Westerlands but was denied by Miss Toyn of Casterly Rock. Not every place is like King's Landing, where population equals wealth, Your Grace."

Varys's spies were everywhere, even in the Free Cities. Perhaps the presence of Ramsay Snow had made the Spider more cautious.

Chapter 635: The Conflict in Dorne

Once, Lord Varys was indispensable within the walls of King's Landing, having served three kings. However, now that Viserys had established an internal audit agency, Varys realized that he was replaceable after all.

The intense battles between the little birds and the Internal Affairs Department escalated to a point where two or three people died daily.

Viserys was well aware of the situation but chose not to interfere directly.

Now, Varys had to be extra cautious and dared not withhold any piece of intelligence. His once masterful tactic of selectively reporting the information he gathered had lost its effectiveness due to the existence of a competitor.

"Oh?"

"Missandei rejected Euron. What's next? The Iron Islands cannot remain unpopulated forever. Where does Euron plan to find people?"

"Either by waging wars or capturing slaves. As you know, Lord Euron now holds a naval military position with the Iron Fleet still under his command."

Varys swayed his shiny head as he spoke.

"He might plunder some islands on the Sunset Sea. It's said that those barbarians are also descendants of the ironborn."

The routine royal council meeting ended swiftly. Many of the heavyweights participating left in jovial groups, except for one who returned.

"Lord Alistair Florent, I have other matters to attend to, so I will take my leave now."

Varys bowed slightly to the tall and thin old man, the Minister of Agriculture, before departing with light steps.

"Spiders are often disliked creatures."

On the other hand, Tyrion, who was enjoying a lively conversation with Oberyn, remarked to Alistair.

"Oh, Lord Tyrion."

Alistair Florent, upon hearing the Imp's words, stood politely, offering a slight smile and a nod to the duo.

Although his tenure in the royal council was not short, compared to others, he was still a 'newbie.'

The old man knew he needed to build good relations with these 'seniors' to last long in the royal council. Moreover, the backing behind Alistair was not strong; his position as Minister of Agriculture was merely a result of political compromise.

However, Oberyn paid no heed to the old man's courtesy. He glanced at the retreating figure of the spider, Varys, his brows furrowing slightly.

He felt there was a different implication in Varys' gaze towards him today, followed by an inexplicable chill.

"This eunuch, could it be…"

Meanwhile, Viserys, accompanied by his attendant Robb Stark, was returning to the Tower of the Hand.

"Robb, what have you learned today?"

As they descended the steps, conversing, Robb, serving as his attendant, was learning governance and martial arts from Viserys. It was a customary practice among nobles to send attendants to each other as a form of apprenticeship.

Sometimes when Viserys held royal council meetings, he would have Robb sit by his side or stand guard outside. If necessary, Viserys would personally knight Robb.

"I learned the importance of population, Your Grace. I never realized how crucial it is."

The young man with auburn hair pondered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he spoke.

He had never considered the significance of population before, falling into a thinking trap. He even believed that these commoners were a burden to the nobles, who had to protect them. This, he thought, was the honor and duty of the nobility, but now he saw it was the opposite.

The luxurious lives of the nobles were built upon the hard work of these commoners, bit by bit.

"Hmm."

"And?"

Viserys merely nodded, urging Robb to continue, but at this moment, they ran into Varys, who had quietly returned, at the turn of the corridor.

"Varys?"

"Your Grace, about Dorne, there's another matter I'd like to report."

Prince Oberyn of Dorne was present earlier, so Varys didn't bring up the matter in front of him. Instead, he waited until the royal council adjourned and came back to discuss it privately with Viserys.

"Oh?"

In the Tower of the Hand's study, after hearing Varys' report, Viserys interlocked his fingers on the table, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"So, such a thing has occurred."

In reality, Viserys had anticipated this event; it was merely a matter of time. It was like a bomb buried in a corner, neglected for years, yet bound to explode someday. He just didn't expect this bomb in Dorne to detonate at such a critical moment.

According to Varys' report, there had been conflicts between the nobles of the Riverland and Dorne. The reason being the frequent activities of Dorne cavalry near the Riverland, posing a great threat to the frontier nobles.

The two factions had been foes for generations, and a short period of peace couldn't dissolve the hatred. Their ancestors had died at the hands of each other, and now, without military power in their hands, the nobles of the Riverland felt a growing sense of crisis, banding together out of fear.

However, what ignited this powder keg was a squad of Dorne cavalry. They brutally stormed into a noble's domain in the Riverland, burnt down a village, and killed all its inhabitants.

Such incidents weren't rare in the past, with Dorne cavalry burning villages of frontier nobles, and vice versa.

But this time, taking advantage of the lack of military power among the frontier nobles, the Dorne cavalry demonstrated their might near a castle, causing a sense of crisis among the nobles within.

This act of Dorne cavalry instantly ignited the anger of Riverland nobles. Although their military power had been retracted, the frontier nobles still retained a not-so-small number of private soldiers. With the robust local martial traditions, it was easy to assemble an army.

The confrontation between the two sides near Nightfall Castle even led to bloodshed, with a knight from the Riverland being killed.

Dorne claimed that they weren't instigating a war or invading the Riverland, but chasing down peasants who had fled from Dorne. Recently, more and more people had left Dorne for the Riverland, with some villages nearly deserted.

The Dorne nobles realized the crisis late but issued orders to blockade ports and roads, forbidding anyone to leave their domains.

Yet, this couldn't stop the determination of the Dorne populace to leave, even sparking a fleeing frenzy. Infuriated, the Dorne nobles decided to act ruthlessly.

They chased the fleeing peasants all the way to the Riverland, causing this conflict.

Chapter 636: Road to Survival

Caron, a young lad from a village near Skyreach Castle, bore the typical Stone Men traits with his dark brown hair, bright black eyes, and fair complexion.

In Dorne, south of the Red Mountains, the people are generally divided into three major ethnic groups, though collectively called Dornish, they have distinct classifications.

The Salt Men dwell by the sea, primarily around the Arms of Dorne near the Dornish Sea, along the edges of the Red Mountains. With their soft, dark, olive-toned smooth skin and windswept long black hair, they are primarily fishermen and sailors, serving as seasoned mariners in the Dornish fleets. Oberyn and the Martell family epitomize the Salt Men traits.

Then come the Sand Men, residing in deserts and narrow valleys. Their skin, even darker than the Salt Men due to the relentless sun, carries a reddish-brown hue.

Lastly, the Stone Men, inhabiting the high mountains and passes of the Red Mountains, are the tallest and most beautiful among the three. Descendants of the Andals and the First Men, they have brown or golden hair. Unlike the other two groups who are wary of outsiders, Stone Men are more welcoming, sharing ancestry with the Andals and the First Men. However, within Dorne, their apparent physical and cultural differences make them resemble their enemies, leading to their ostracization by the other two groups.

Now, young Caron, leading his villagers away from their ancestral home near Skyreach Castle towards the outer world, found all routes sealed by noble lords.

Once an open thoroughfare, the Prince's Pass was a primary route to and from Dorne, far more navigable than the treacherous Bone Way with its steep cliffs. Now, however, it faced strict inspections, allowing only merchant caravans, and that too in limited numbers.

Thus, Caron, along with his mother, younger brother, and several villagers from Skyreach, had no choice but to risk traversing the Red Mountains towards the frontier, and ultimately to the Riverlands.

Their exodus was driven by desperation; life in Dorne had become unbearable. Traditional nobles imposed exorbitant taxes on their lands, especially during wartime, leaving barely enough for survival.

However, elsewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, such practices had ceased. Now, tax collectors from the Iron Throne ensured taxes were collected transparently and fairly, alleviating much of the previous burden and significantly improving the living standards of the common folk.

This reform led to a positive cycle: improved living conditions reduced the numbers of bandits, bullies, and brotherhoods. People no longer driven to desperation chose not to risk dangerous paths.

But Dorne stood as an exception amid these changes. Initially, Dornishmen, wielding their privileges, acted arrogantly across the Seven Kingdoms, backed by a Dornish queen. Yet, as peace returned post-war, their privileges waned.

The city guard in King's Landing no longer turned a blind eye to their misconduct. Having offended many, Dornish caravans faced collective retribution from other traders, eventually being forced out of King's Landing.

The erosion of privileges was one aspect, but the Dornish soon realized that despite their aggressive stance, their living conditions were worse off than those they intimidated. They appeared as jesters in light of their previous actions.

While living standards rose across the Seven Kingdoms, Dorne stagnated, even regressing slightly. Many who had participated in the first and second conquest wars were knighted or even ennobled for their military contributions, facilitating a class transition.

Yet, Dornishmen were left out, as the king promised high autonomy for Dorne, leaving the rewarding of Dornish soldiers to Dornish nobles. But Dornish lords were unwilling to cede their lands.

Various tedious reasons caused the earliest batches of discontented Dornishmen to leave for King's Landing, Seagard, Lannisport, and others, triggering a mass migration northwards. The drastic decline in village populations finally alarmed Dornish nobles, who began prohibiting their peasants from leaving. However, it was too late.

"We will get out alive, right, Caron?"

Caron's mother, cradling his brother, her head wrapped in a scarf and slightly disheveled, asked with a trembling voice.

They were hiding in the woods of the Red Mountains, with Caron, familiar with the terrain, leading the villagers outward as their guide.

Among the remaining villagers were robust warriors, some even having served in the Dornish army, now holding homemade spears and swords, ready for anything.

Hearing his mother, Caron looked at her and his brother, then silently nodded.

"Yes!"

"We surely will."

Caron now regretted their escape a bit. Life in Dorne might not have been ideal, but at least they wouldn't starve, and it was home.

But there was no turning back. Their village head might have already reported their escape to Count Franklin Fowler. The 'Old Hawk' of Skyreach had long ordered surrounding villages, any deserter caught would face death.

By reaching the Prince's Pass, Caron and his companions had already ventured past the point of no return.

Chapter 637: Escalation of Conflict

The scorching sun bore down from above, its rays unkind to the sparse foliage on the crimson mountains. The terrain was mostly barren, with naked stones dotting the landscape and signs of desolation all around.

Behind them was a vast desert, and ahead, an oasis awaited.

They traversed along a ridge, and from a distance, they could see a towering stone tower erected on a small hillock down the slope of the mountain.

"That's the Tower of Joy," the young guide, Karlon, briefed them.

"It is said that Eddard Stark, with six knights, fought against three of the Kingsguard – Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, and Oswell Whent."

"It was a dishonorable fight, they outnumbered them," Karlon said, his tone brimming with discontent. His dream was to become an exemplary swordsman like the Sword of the Morning, honoring the blade across the lands and upholding honor.

However, at that moment, distant sounds of galloping hooves and shouts echoed from far behind them.

"Halt!"

A patrol of Dornish cavalry, dressed in sandy-colored robes with white turbans, roamed the vicinity of the Tower of Joy.

Upon spotting this group attempting to flee northward, they unsheathed their shimmering curved blades, much like eagles spotting prey, and hastened their horses towards them.

"Damn it!"

Witnessing this, the few dozen villagers ready to flee were thrown into disarray. Among them, apart from a handful of able-bodied men, most were the elderly, weak, or ill, utterly incapable of facing the formidable cavalry.

But, the vantage point of the crimson mountains allowed them to spot the danger from afar, even though the menacing riders were still a considerable distance away.

"Quick!"

"Run!"

Karlon, with a drastically changed complexion, hurriedly gestured everyone to escape towards the complex terrain on the other side.

There, bizarre rocks and occasional trees would impede the cavalry, providing them a chance to evade.

Several days later.

On the main road leading to the shores of Cintree, a disheveled and ragged group of Dornish appeared. They were the ones who had escaped from the crimson mountains, led by young Karlon.

They had outmaneuvered the Dornish cavalry amidst the complex terrains of the mountains, even managing to slay a few of them. However, the price paid was hefty. Of the dozens of villagers that set out, less than ten remained. The feeble and weak had perished under the blades of their kinsmen, including Karlon's mother and brother. And now, the Dornish cavalry intensified their pursuit.

"Was it worth it?"

Looking at the less than ten familiar faces left, tears trickled down Karlon's cheeks involuntarily, his body quivering slightly.

Many others too lowered their heads, wiping away tears secretly. In truth, many regretted their decision. They realized that it would have been better to stay put than take this perilous path.

Unfortunately, no one sells regret medicine; everyone must bear the consequences of their choices.

Boom, boom, boom—

But as this group of Dornish fugitives rested on the road, the thunderous gallops once again resonated from behind them.

"How is it possible?"

"They couldn't have followed us here, could they?"

They were now in the lands of the Riverbend, but no one could answer the question. All the surviving Dornish, including Karlon, hastily got up and gripped their swords and spears tightly.

Yet fate wasn't kind. At the far end of the road to Cintree, the familiar flags of House Fowler fluttered.

Dornish cavalry, wrapped in white turbans and clad in sandy-colored robes, rode atop slender but enduring desert horses.

They had pursued these 'traitors' for days and nights, losing their way at times, but eventually found them again.

"Kill them!"

With a fierce yell from a Dornish knight bearing a falcon crest, all the Dornish cavalry echoed in unison.

Boom, boom, boom—

The heavy hooves galloped on the road, their menacing eyes fixed on their kinsmen as they unsheathed their gleaming curved blades, charging towards Karlon and his group.

"Damn it!"

"We're doomed!"

"That's Young Lord Orwin Fowler!"

Despair washed over the faces of the fleeing Dornish, including Karlon. They all sensed their impending doom.

They had never imagined that Lord Fowler's cavalry could cross Prince's Pass and chase them all the way to the Riverbend region.

They thought they were safe, thus they let down their guard and took the easier main road. But now, the enemy had caught up, and their lives hung by a thread. The flat terrain of the Riverbend offered no cover like the forests and mountains, the cavalry charge could wipe them out in an instant.

And leading the Dornish cavalry was 'Old Falcon' Franklin Fowler's own nephew, Orwin Fowler. Franklin had two twin daughters; Orwin, being the sole male heir of House Fowler, was pampered and allowed to act recklessly without reprimand.

However, in the direst of situations, fortune often shines. Just as Karlon and his group sank into despair, from the other end of the road leading to Cintree, another thunderous gallop of hooves echoed.

The fleeing Dornish quickly turned their heads to see a group of knights bearing the banners of House Cintford of Cintree approaching from behind.

These knights were clad in bright, heavy armor, fully armed, even their steeds were draped in hefty barding. Their eyes were filled with murderous intent as the flagbearer held high the banner of House Cintford.

"For the Sun that Shines!"

The leading knight, bearing the emblem of House Cintford on his arm, bellowed with a deep voice.

"Slay these invaders!"

"Hah!"

All the Riverbend knights raised their lances, echoing in fury.

Clearly, the sudden appearance of House Cintford's knights aimed at the Dornish cavalry who were in pursuit of the traitors, paying no attention to Karlon and his group.

These Dornish cavalry had trespassed into the lands of the local lord, intending to commit murder. The tensions between the two sides had escalated over time, and this wasn't the first or second instance of such incursions. They almost considered the Riverbend their backyard, igniting the wrath of the local nobility.

This was their first step of retaliation.

"Quick!"

"Quick! Move to the side of the road!"

"Clear the way!"

The Dornish, sandwiched between two groups of cavalry, seemed to have been scared stiff. Only Karlon reacted first, noticing that the knights of Riverbend weren't targeting them. He hurriedly shouted to remind his companions.

The Dornish then snapped out of their trance, rushing to the sides of the road to clear the way for the charging knights.

"Charge! Charge!"

On the other side, Orwin Fowler, leading the Dornish cavalry, saw that the Riverbend knights showed no signs of backing down and ordered to accelerate the charge.

Thwack—

But at that moment, a cold arrow shot out from the ranks of the Cintford knights, accurately striking Sir Orwin Fowler, the lead of the Dornish cavalry.

Thud—

Old Fowler's beloved nephew screamed in pain as he fell from his horse, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Chapter 638: Border Crisis

The dire news from the Dornish frontier rode swift steeds and breached the gates of King's Landing.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A knight from the Riverlands, his armor bespattered with blood, clutching the hilt of his sword, hastily ascended the steps and entered the Throne Room.

At the moment, the Throne Room was a hive of activity, filled to the brim with nobles of King's Landing. King Viserys sat on the Iron Throne, his countenance serene beneath the Valyrian steel crown adorned with red rubies.

Not far from him, an additional seat had been placed for Queen Arianne, who cradled her daughter Daenerys Targaryen in her arms, a hint of displeasure on her face.

The council's dignitaries flanked the King, with Hand of the King Jon Connington leading, followed by the princesses – Lady Renly, the Duchess of Highgarden, and Daenerys Targaryen, the Duchess of Dragonstone.

Further down the line were the Master of Laws, Master of Whisperers, Royal Advisors, Master of Agriculture, Master of Coin, and the Grand Maester, each bearing varied expressions – some stern, others reveling in schadenfreude, while some maintained a cryptic silence.

The young brunette female dragon knight below clenched the hilt of her Dark Sister, took a deep breath, and lifted her head once more.

Before the official cry for help, ravens had already delivered the news to King's Landing; everyone present had, to varying degrees, heard about the rebellion in the borderlands.

"Dornish savages, always harboring ill intentions, repeatedly breaching our borders!"

"They've burned nearly everything – our farmlands, grains, and homes."

The knight seeking aid hailed from the House Meriweather of the Longtable. He knelt before the Iron Throne, disregarding the scowls from the Queen and the Master of Laws as he voiced his grievances loudly.

"Your Grace, I beseech you to send troops to quell the rebellion!"

A month ago, a conflict between nobles erupted in the Dornish borderlands. Although not a widespread war, a knight from the Riverlands was slain, keeping things within a controllable scope.

However, a recent incident exacerbated the discord.

One of the most powerful lords of Dorne, whose ancestors once styled themselves as 'Kings of the Cliff and Sky', Lord Franklin Fowler of Skyreach, lost his only male heir, Orwin Fowler, during an expedition into the Riverlands chasing fleeing peasants. He was felled by knights of House Cintford, meeting his end in the Riverlands.

The Old Falcon, upon hearing the news, was furious. He marshaled two thousand Dornish soldiers, invaded the Riverlands, pillaged and plundered, and seized Cintford Keep. Except for the Lord of Cintford, all members of House Cintford who failed to escape were slaughtered mercilessly by the Dornish.

This act infuriated the nobles of the Riverlands, who rallied their soldiers in retaliation. Three fierce battles ensued, with no clear victor.

Now, as the 'Guardian of the Pass', Franklin Fowler had unleashed his rage. Yet, after cooling down, he felt an ominous premonition, hence retreated to Prince's Pass, guarding the key point without venturing out.

However, instead of retreating, the Riverland nobility alliance fortified their positions in front of Prince's Pass with several thousand gathered private soldiers, posing a threat without assaulting, seeking justice for House Cintford.

On the other hand, they dispatched a knight from House Meriweather to King's Landing, beseeching the King for assistance, alleging a rebellion in Dorne, and begging His Grace to deliver justice.

As Sir Ryken Meriweather's voice fell, the nobles of King's Landing couldn't help but whisper among themselves, discussing the audacious 'Sky King' while casting subtle glances at the Dornish Queen and the Master of Laws.

The Martells, historically loyal allies of the Targaryens and now related through marriage with a daughter born to the King, had, due to their formidable influence, become the focus of envy and scrutiny.

"Your Grace, I am willing to lead the troops to Dorne and quell the rebellion personally."

At this moment, having heard Sir Ryken Meriweather's grievances, the gloomy Dornish finally stood up.

Yet, he offered no explanation for his kin, knowing well that the reputation of Dorne at court wasn't favorable, for their power had made them targets of envy.

Thus, Oberyn stepped forward, volunteering to lead the army to breach Prince's Pass, capture Lord Franklin Fowler, and escort him to King's Landing for trial.

However, Oberyn's proposal met opposition from the Hand of the King, Jon Connington. Despite their good personal relations since the Council of the Gifted, the stern, inflexible, silver-haired man believed in separating public affairs from private matters.

"Prince Oberyn, as the Prince of Dorne, should abstain voluntarily."

The cold voice of the Hand of the King resonated, then he turned to the young silver-haired King on the Iron Throne.

"Your Grace."

"The Guardian of the Pass, Lord Franklin Fowler of Skyreach, has flouted the laws of the realm, mobilizing troops to attack villages and castles in the Riverlands territories."

"They've slaughtered the wives, children, and elders of House Cintford, burnt down homes, and fields of the common folk. He deserves to be punished."

"I am willing to bring Franklin Fowler to justice."

Below, Jon Connington, adorned with the Hand of the King's pin, sternly condemned the sins of Franklin Fowler, while the silver-haired young King on the cold throne remained impassive throughout, his emotions inscrutable.

He leaned back on his throne, observing the myriad expressions of the nobles below, the kneeling knight from the Riverlands, the gloomy Oberyn, and others. The transgressions of a lord from Skyreach against the laws of the realm seemed to concern him little; it was a matter to be dealt with according to the law, much like last year's rebellion in Stonehelm.

"Very well."

Only after Jon Connington had finished speaking did Viserys nod slightly.

"Lord Jon Connington."

"Your Grace."

The ordinary man with the Hand of the King's pin walked out from the crowd.

"You shall have two thousand men. Bring him before me."

"Also, send a raven to Sunspear, demanding an explanation from Prince Doran."

"Yes, Your Grace."

And Jon Connington bowed slightly, then retreated to his original position.

Chapter 639: Name Day

With the monthly routine meeting in the Throne Hall concluded, Viserys, accompanied by his squire Jendry, was preparing to mount his steed for a brief outing to inspect the work at the harbor.

"My love."

Just then, Yalene, cradling their daughter Diana, hurried over with her handmaid Sansa trailing behind.

"Yalene?"

Viserys, seeing his wife, knew what she wished to discuss, and dismounted from his horse.

"Fear not, your father, Prince Doran is not that short-sighted."

"This matter likely doesn't involve Doran. As the Prince of Dorne, he ought to explain this situation."

Viserys' fingers slid through his wife's soft hair, and he rested his forehead against hers, offering words of comfort.

"Is it truly so?"

Yalene, hearing Viserys' reassurance, let out a small sigh of relief. She believed her father wasn't foolish enough to incite rebellion under such circumstances, yet the worry lingered.

"It's alright."

Viserys shook his head.

At this moment, the silver-haired infant in Yalene's arms seemed to wake from her slumber. Her long eyelashes fluttered slightly as she opened her beautiful pale purple eyes, seeing her father's reflection.

"Pa-pa—"

Then Diana, with her sweet, milky voice, called out in a playful tone, her adorable smile appearing as she reached out for her father's embrace.

"Diana."

Viserys, no matter how steely-hearted he appeared in public, couldn't help but soften at the sight of his own daughter.

The young man with silver hair set aside the day's fatigue, taking Diana into his arms from Yalene.

Diana would soon celebrate her second Name Day. During her first, King's Landing had hosted a grand tournament, with a prize of ten thousand golden dragons. Both commoners and nobles were welcome to compete, and the championship was claimed by Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island.

Now, as Diana was a bit older, able to walk, kick a ball, utter simple words, and respond to her parents' inquiries, Viserys planned to take her to the royal forest on her second Name Day, to choose a suitable young dragon as a companion for her journey of growth.

This was a promise Viserys had made to Yalene long ago – that their daughter would have a dragon.

Witnessing her husband cradling their shared joy, playing with Diana, Yalene's worries evaporated, leaving a smile on her face.

Being wed in political alliance, Viserys understood Yalene, and Yalene understood her husband in kind.

Despite their union's nature, Yalene knew Viserys didn't love her deeply, but she also knew, whether out of duty, honor, or basic decency, he would never abandon her and would always stand by her side.

"How wonderful."

"The King and Queen are so fortunate."

On the other side, the red-haired maiden Sansa Stark, Queen's handmaid, who had her hair coiled southern-style and wore a modest light blue gown, cast envious glances at the handsome King and beautiful Queen.

She truly cherished the bustling city of King's Landing and the lavish lifestyle within the court. If possible, she'd wish to reside here forever, never returning to the cold North.

Her life back home couldn't compare; donned in thick animal furs for warmth daily, where even a moment outside at night would leave one shivering in the cold.

As Joffrey, broom in arms, happened to pass by, having recently been chastised by King Viserys for his misdeeds towards the princess, he was tasked with menial chores as part of his punishment.

The blonde lad now served as a humble janitor, sweeping the outer areas of the Red Keep daily, while the central areas like Maegor's Holdfast became forbidden territories for him.

Joffrey, upon seeing the King and Queen, resembled a mouse spotting a cat. His eyes darted anxiously, reflecting deep fear as he scurried away.

Sansa, witnessing Joffrey, felt a trace of disgust. She had heard of the former prince's numerous misdeeds. During Winterfell's fall, she, along with her mother and siblings, had journeyed south to King's Landing.

Back then, she had found Prince Joffrey quite handsome, especially when Queen Cersei proposed a betrothal between them. Yet her mother declined, citing the absence of her father to make such decisions.

Sansa had been disappointed then, even quarreling with her mother. Now, looking back, she was relieved for her mother's foresight that spared her a lifetime of misery, especially after the collapse of the Baratheon reign.

While Sansa observed Joffrey, she didn't notice the dark-haired lad, Jendry, who was holding the King's steed, gazing at her with affection.

The knowing look.

It was only natural for Jendry to fancy Sansa Stark of Winterfell, who was undeniably beautiful. Having a close friendship with her brother Robb, both serving as squires to the King, his affection for Sansa was inevitable.

However, Jendry, being shy and not articulate in expressing his feelings, kept his affection hidden.

Days later, the Hand of the King, Jon Clinton, personally led an expedition with two thousand soldiers from the Second Legion stationed in the royal forest, carrying supplies to suppress the rebellion towards Dorne.

Meanwhile, the ships and sailors prepared for an expedition to Naath Island were also ready, with another two thousand men on board.

As the melodious horn echoed through the Blackwater Bay, the fleet set sail towards the Free Cities, embarking on a journey on behalf of the kingdom to foster relations. The challenges that lay ahead on this voyage were unknown, yet this was merely the first step.

Chapter 640: The Final Path

Time swiftly passes by, and except for the distant North and Dorne, the Seven Kingdoms enjoy a period of peace and prosperity. The atmosphere throughout the realm is one of national stability and a content citizenry.

The North and Dorne, being at the extreme ends of the realm, seem too distant for the majority of the populace to worry about.

Viserys, residing in King's Landing for the past few months, has mostly been engaged in daily governance, with not much else demanding his attention. However, the golden flame within him has grown, albeit at a slow pace.

It is so gradual that without keen observation, it might go unnoticed.

"I see... its growth seems very slow?" he remarks, standing within the tower of Maegor, addressing a stone statue.

"Yes, accumulating faith is not an easy task. Only the purest of beliefs can be absorbed," the calm voice emanates from the statue of the Faceless God.

Viserys, after spending months in this new world, is getting accustomed to the Valyrian tongue and the alterations in the geopolitical landscape post Valyria's era. The city-states which once bowed to Valyria have claimed independence, ruling autonomously.

Shockingly, the city-state established by escaped slaves of Valyria now stands as the trade hub in this new world, wielding significant influence.

"Merely former slaves of the empire," scoffs Miraxis towards Braavos' newfound prominence. In the days of the great empire, insignificant city-states like Braavos dared not even to breathe too loudly, yet now they've risen to exert influence.

Viserys is equally curious about this divine conscience, Miraxis. In his understanding, deities should be lofty beings, detached from worldly concerns.

Yet, the deity before him seems quite cynical, almost human-like in demeanor.

"Do not overestimate the gods, Viserys," Miraxis advises.

Viserys candidly presents his confusion, receiving elucidation from Miraxis.

"The hierarchy among deities is clear. The powerful ones are integral to the world's operation, indispensable. The weakest are but lost souls, unable to rival even a human, destined to fade into the cosmos," explains Miraxis.

Although a divine conscience devoid of a physical form, Miraxis holds profound understanding of the gods, detailing their features and differences to Viserys.

The most common gods are born of collective faith, igniting the divine flame to ascend. Their domain is often restricted to a specific land, nation, or race.

Once detached from their land, or if their nation falls or race perishes, their source of power vanishes, leading to their dissipation into the cosmos.

Besides these common faith-born gods, there are others.

Some ancient entities, born during the world's infancy even before the Children of the Forest, ascended due to their accumulated magic and power during a time when magic surged like tides across the realms.

The ascension through faith is slow. Many don't realize the ignition of the divine flame, feeling merely an enhanced spirit. Only upon death, transforming into spiritual beings, do they perceive the divine flame, continuing a lengthy accumulation towards ascension.

The living hardly witness the moment of ascension. Miraxis advises Viserys against haste, as forceful promotion of faith could backfire, inciting resistance. Only pure belief is beneficial.

Lastly, there are gods who, after ascension, grasp certain universal laws, becoming gods of those domains, like Light, Darkness, Death, Time, Life, and elements like Water, Storm, Heat, Cold.

The powerful gods span vast lands with their rule, while weaker ones are confined to specific areas. However, these gods of laws are generally stronger than those ascended through faith or magic.

Miraxis, though merely a divine conscience, holds deep insights into godly realms, overwhelming Viserys with her extensive exposition.

Yet, one point strikes home, "So gods of faith are the lowest in the divine hierarchy?" Viserys finally inquires.

Indeed, Miraxis confirms, elaborating that the pathway of faith is the only viable route towards ascension in this era, as the tides of magic have weakened considerably compared to the days of Valyria, let alone compared to tens or hundreds of thousands of years ago.

Yet, Viserys seems to be an exceptionally unique human.

"Ordinary humans should remain unaware of the divine flame, yet your mental strength is extraordinary, almost..." Miraxis hesitates, unable to explain Viserys's peculiar existence.

If not for Viserys's perception of the divine flame and discovery of the concealed divinity within the statue, Miraxis might never have awakened, fading away eventually.

"You are quite different from other humans," Miraxis finally states after a pause.

"Perhaps you may carve a distinct path, Viserys."

Chapter 641: The World Beneath

"Do you perceive what sets me apart from others, Miraxis?"

Viserys's query lingered in the silence before finally being vocalized.

"Different?"

"No."

"No?"

"What's the matter?"

A hint of perplexity tinged Miraxis's voice. The silver-haired youth in the library of Meereen loosened his furrowed brow, shaking his head slightly.

"It's nothing."

He hadn't expected that even Miraxis's divine senses couldn't detect the presence of the dark mist, a realm beyond mere mortals, seemingly reaching the domain of gods.

Was the existence of the dark mist even more enigmatic than that of the gods?

Though void of answers, Viserys wasn't disheartened. After all, as Miraxis had said, not all gods were of the same caliber. The disparity between gods could match that between mortals and divines.

A weaker god gazing upon a higher one was akin to beholding a deity.

Although a tongue twister, the reality was stark.

Miraxis's divine senses weren't akin to the essence of Valyria's ancient gods. Perhaps even among gods, Miraxis wasn't of the highest echelon.

Otherwise, the gods of Valyria wouldn't have been wiped out so easily. Was the mysterious dark mist an entity belonging to the pinnacle of gods, hence its enigma?

The handsome silver-haired youth eased his brow, consoling himself with such thoughts. Yet, a question sprang forth.

"If you've disclosed so much, what is the true form of Miraxis?"

"Dragon."

Although devoid of her corporeal memories, Miraxis was aware of her essence.

"Dragon?"

Viserys was momentarily stunned. The ancient god of Valyria, the revered Miraxis, the Fury of the Seas, was a dragon?

"Yes."

"Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes... all the ancient gods of Valyria were dragons," the deity's calm voice affirmed.

Has House Targaryen lost these ancient records?

"No."

Viserys's expression tightened slightly. Perhaps an invisible hand had erased these records through the annals of time. Only now did Viserys grasp why Aegon was so adamant about naming all the dragons after ancient gods.

Despite inheriting the Old Gods' ability to peer into the past, certain veils remained impenetrable for Viserys.

For instance, while the power of the Old Gods could traverse through time across Westeros, it faltered beyond the Narrow Sea onto Essos.

Viserys had once attempted to trail 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister's past, reverting to the eve of King's Landing's gates yielding to the foes.

He witnessed Cersei instructing Commander Janos Slynt to capture Jaime and another Kingsguard. He also saw Tyrion bribing Bronn to hire mercenaries for freeing Jaime, aiming to whisk him away from Westeros.

As Viserys sat on the Iron Throne, his gaze transcended time, following Jaime till he boarded a merchant vessel bound for Braavos, where the trail went cold. The power of the Old Gods seemed bound to this continent, as if an invisible border capped its reach.

"Balerion, Vhagar, and Miraxis... all ancient gods of Valyria were dragons," Viserys muttered, his frustration burgeoning. He felt nearer to the truth yet clueless about his next move. It seemed tantalizingly within reach yet elusive.

"Did they ascend to godhood through the faith of Valyrians?"

"No."

The voice from the deity remained serene.

"I am uncertain of Miraxis's past, but her ascension wasn't through faith."

"Balerion, Vhagar, and the others existed long before, living through countless years. Perhaps they attained godhood with their power even before emerging from the underground to this world."

"They were the first dragons encountered by the Valyrians."

"Back then, Valyrians were nomads dwelling on the peninsula. They first witnessed the fierce dance of dragons among the towering Fourteen Flames."

"Thus, Valyrians revered dragons as totems, adoring and worshipping them."

Miraxis elucidated, but Viserys caught onto a phrase she'd just mentioned.

"Miraxis, what did you say?"

"Dragons emerged from the underground to this world? What underground? What world above?"

"Wait. Do you mean our current world is the world above?"

Viserys trembled slightly, voicing his disbelief.

"There's a world beneath? Is that the homeland of dragons?"

"That can't be!"

He couldn't help but recall the several colossal abysses within the ruins of Valyria, spewing endless dark smoke towards the sky.

The fog enveloping Valyria and the Smoking Sea might stem from there.

While escaping Valyria's ruins on Balerion's back, Viserys had glimpsed those sky-piercing dark pillars and the unfathomable dark abysses.

He also remembered a smaller bottomless pit in the far North, beneath the tree where Ygg, the Weirwood, stood sentinel. This pit was a way for the Children of the Forest to embrace oblivion, with none who entered ever returning.

Yet, comparing the petite abyss in the North to the gigantic chasms in Valyria was like comparing a witch to a wizard—vastly different scales.

However, by the Northern abyss, Viserys had discovered an obsidian spearhead. Through a time reversal, he saw countless millennia ago, the Children of the Forest, Mountain Giants, and other ancient beings united against a common foe—giant worm-like creatures capable of burrowing and spewing fire.

Both scenarios pointed towards a mysterious world beneath, where these fire-breathing worms and possibly dragons originated. They were alien to this world.

And if dragons hailed from below, what about the dark mist entwined within him? Did it, too, come from the underground?

Chapter 642: The Crypts of Winterfell

Viserys roamed tirelessly in King's Landing, forging ahead to awaken the pale raven skull with the flame of faith as soon as he was prepared.

Upon inquiry, Miraxis claimed ignorance of the raven, shaking her head to dismiss any divine recognition.

The raven was likely one of the ancient alien gods, attaining divinity through its power. Miraxis could sense the formidable divine essence embedded within the raven's cranium.

Meanwhile, the Night's Watch progressed steadily, reclaiming large swathes of land and castles.

Braving the cold and snow, the soldiers measured the lands of the North step by step.

Given the vast but sparsely populated North, with its scarce castles, reclaiming them would take the Night's Watch mere months.

In less than a month, they could seize most castles, as the scattered wights posed no real threat to fortifications, attacking like beasts at the sight of human soldiers.

The Night's Watch could easily dispatch them from a distance with their oil-tipped arrows, keeping the undead at bay.

Without White Walkers, brainless wights were no match for humans.

The real challenge lay in the vast expanse of the North. The soldiers had to clear the land inch by inch of wights, to prevent later peril upon the return of the Northern folk.

...

"Ho—"

"Ho—"

Astride a brown and a black warhorse, two knights clad in black approached the towering walls of Winterfell, standing tall amidst the boundless plains.

Draped in black cloaks, with hefty wolf pelt over their shoulders, the Stark siblings, Eddard and Benjen, looked weary from their journey.

Arriving at the foot of the wall, they reined in their horses, gazing at the close yet distant Winterfell, a wave of nostalgia washing over them.

"Nothing changed since I left," Eddard Stark sighed, his breath a white mist in the air.

Benjen, with his black leather gloves, pointed at a charred mark on the wall, "I left later, Ned. That's my mark."

During the battle of Winterfell, Benjen and some soldiers got separated from the main force, finding refuge in the crypts as the dead besieged them.

Months of bitter endurance on scant provisions led to a daring breakout, leaping off the walls into thick snow below, a trail of fire obstructing the wight's pursuit.

That charred mark was left by Benjen, who pushed down a barrel of oil and ignited it.

Saved by the Three-Eyed Raven afterward, their journey revolved around finding Viserys, till they were captured at Dragonstone, and released when King's Landing fell.

"Winterfell… slipped through my fingers," Eddard murmured, his gaze entangled with emotions as he looked at his homeland, eventually letting out a sigh.

"But it was reclaimed through you, Ned. No need for self-reproach," Benjen, turning towards his elder brother, tried to console him with a smile. Eddard shook his head, but a smile finally broke through.

"Let's go, into the city!"

The brothers galloped into Winterfell, which had recently been reclaimed by the Night's Watch, purging the wights in just two days, including the ones in the crypts.

However, the crypts had suffered; partially collapsed, entombing most of the Kings of the North forever, while the few unburied tombs were left as deep pits, their occupants nowhere to be found.

Upon their arrival at the crypts, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, was already present, inspecting the Stark family's tombs. He rose up, patting Eddard's shoulder, sighing without uttering a word.

The violation of ancestral tombs was a grave misfortune, yet there was no one to be blamed since White Walkers had orchestrated this sacrilege.

"Lord Commander Mormont."

"Lord Commander."

"Benjen."

"Lord Eddard Stark."

Exchanging brief greetings, the grizzled Lord Commander left the crypts to the Stark siblings, leaving once all others had departed.

The crypt grew silent, save for the crackling of Benjen's torch.

"I remember you telling me about a dream," Eddard broke the silence.

"Benjen."

The brothers gazed at the partially collapsed crypt of Winterfell, falling into a long silence until Eddard turned his weather-beaten face towards Benjen, breaking the silence.

"Yes, indeed."

Benjen's smile faded, replaced by a heavy heart.

He had shared a dream with his brother after their reunion in King's Landing. During his desperate entrapment in the crypt, he dreamt of his sister Lyanna Stark, who, with tears of blood, urged Benjen to flee.

Awakening with newfound courage, they carved a bloody path out, only to encounter the Night King returning to Winterfell. Fortunately, the Night King deemed them too insignificant to pursue, allowing their narrow escape.

"Benjen, do you think… Lyanna still has her consciousness?" Eddard queried, startling Benjen.

"What?"

His disbelief mirrored in his face, Benjen found Eddard's conjecture astonishing.

The consensus was that their ancestors, including Lyanna, were reanimated by the White Walkers. However, Benjen was startled by Eddard's words.

"It can't be, right?"

After a moment of contemplation, Benjen shook his head, "If Lyanna had her consciousness, why would she shoot Robert with an arrow?"

"Yo—"

Benjen was interrupted by a sudden realization.

He had attended the public trial in King's Landing, hearing the tragic love tale of Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen.

Could Lyanna's arrow at Robert be an act of vengeance for Rhaegar?

A look of astonishment flashed across Benjen's face, while Eddard remained silent throughout, his expression complicated, as he knew this historical facet too well.

Chapter 643: Venturing Beyond The Wall Alone

"Do you remember this wooden bow? Lyanna used it for practice when she was young," said Eddard Stark, cradling the old, polished piece tenderly in his hands.

Within the dimly lit cellars of Winterfell, the flicker of firelight danced upon the face of Lyanna Stark's statue. The statue, with outstretched arms, seemed to gaze heavenward in a perpetual display of sorrow. Although Eddard had intended for the statue to portray Lyanna with a bow, poised to shoot, Maester Luwin had convinced him otherwise, leading to the current, more somber depiction.

"I remember," Benjen responded.

"This was Lyanna's practice bow, she once competed with me using it," Eddard reminisced, his voice a soft echo through the stone halls.

Benjen, examining the bow now held by his brother, noticed the smoothness where the hands gripped—it was a testament to countless hours Lyanna had spent refining her skill, devoid of prodigious talent but abundant in relentless effort.

He chuckled lightly recalling how he had once been bested by his sister, a defeat that led to a bout of tears and a period of teasing that seemed endless at the time.

"After Lyanna's death, this bow was stored away in the vaults of Winterfell," Eddard continued, his face a facade of calm masking the storm of memories within.

"It was lost in the annals of time, even I couldn't find it later on," he sighed.

Age had begun sketching its tale upon Eddard's visage. His dark brown locks now streaked with gray, the neatly trimmed beard also bore the hue of time, and wrinkles adorned the space around his gray eyes.

He paused, lifting his eyes from the bow to meet Benjen's gaze, his voice dropping a tone lower, "Then it resurfaced, all the way in Carlin Bay. Benjen, do you think Lyanna might have placed it there?"

Benjen, his face half-illuminated by the torch he held, furrowed his brows contemplating the likelihood of his brother's suggestion.

"But could she have been controlled by the Night King, losing her consciousness?" he queried, the notion sent a chill down his spine.

Wights controlled by the Others, and all Others under the dominion of the Night King—a horrid reality they had witnessed firsthand in the battles fought. Humanity, ever so adaptable, was learning with every confrontation, probing for weaknesses among their foes.

Their conclusion was simple yet daunting—the entire undead army and the Others were puppets, with strings pulled by the Night King. Kill the King, and the endless waves of death would crumble.

But to reach the Night King, one had to cut through the hordes of death surrounding him—a futile endeavor leading them back to square one.

This was why the Others had swept through the realms of men like a tempest during their southward march. Despite the heavy toll, mankind had yet to discover a means to vanquish the Night King.

Unless, by some stroke of fate, the Night King grew careless, venturing forth from the veil of undead protectors. In such a scenario, a master of assassination lying in wait could strike true with a blade of Valyrian steel, ending the King and saving the realm.

The scenario wasn't entirely impossible, but it heavily depended on the Night King's cooperation.

And from the last encounter where Viserys faced the Night King in single combat, it was clear that the King valued his existence, retreating at the slightest hint of danger.

"But the significance of this bow is known only to Lyanna, you, and me," Eddard's voice brought Benjen back from his thoughts.

Eddard Stark fell silent for a moment before continuing, "Father didn't know, Brandon didn't know, and neither did Catelyn."

Benjen paused, sinking into contemplation. Indeed, the essence of this bow was a secret shared only among the three Stark siblings. Even their eldest brother, Brandon, was oblivious, being engrossed in the affairs befitting the heir of Winterfell while they ventured out in youthful escapades.

Hence, the notion that Lyanna might have transported this bow all the way from Winterfell to Carlin Bay wasn't entirely implausible.

"For only her name is etched upon it, yet the meaning it holds goes beyond mere letters," Benjen whispered, the realization igniting a spark of hope within him.

"Could it be true?" he wondered aloud, "Does Lyanna still possess consciousness?"

The implication stirred a tide of emotion within Benjen. During the Rebellion, he had stayed in Winterfell, and post-war, he had joined the Night's Watch at the Wall, never getting a chance to bid farewell to Lyanna—a regret that haunted him.

"And if so, what about Father and Brandon?" he quivered at the thought.

The cataclysm beneath Winterfell had awakened the past Lords of Winter, including their father Rickard and brother Brandon. A claim once made by Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor about sighting Rickard Stark had been dismissed by the coalition as mere folly.

However, if the undead could regain consciousness, wasn't this a sliver of hope?

"We cannot confirm anything yet," Eddard's voice cut through Benjen's spiraling thoughts, grounding him back to the grim reality.

Contrary to Benjen's whirlpool of emotions, Eddard remained a stoic figure, bearing the weight of contemplation silently. Ever since he had acquired the bow, sleep had eluded him. Nights were spent pondering, deliberating until a resolution solidified within.

"I am planning to venture beyond the Wall myself, Benjen," Eddard declared, his words echoing through the ancient stones of Winterfell.

"What?" Benjen was taken aback, yet before he could muster a response, Eddard continued.

"I intend to trace Lyanna's steps, to unravel the truth behind this enigma," the determination in Eddard's voice was unyielding.

Over the months, Eddard had mulled over this matter tirelessly, and finally resolved to act. Once the Wall was reclaimed, he would fulfill the duty of the Night's Watch. Alone, with just his horse and sword, he would traverse into the unknown lands beyond the Wall, tracking the Others and investigating Lyanna's fate.

This matter had knotted his soul, tying his thoughts in an endless loop.

It was a matter of family—his father, brother, and sister. Eddard Stark had lived a life of honor, safeguarding his family. But now, donning the black, with Winterfell entrusted to Robb, he chose to live for himself, if just this once.

It was a reminiscent of the dreams he and Robert had harbored as young lads—riding along the King's Road, their swords carving tales into the annals of time, never to return.

"No, Ned!" Benjen's voice resonated through the halls.

But Eddard's decision met staunch opposition from Benjen. As a ranger, Benjen had endured the harsh life beyond the Wall. Every day was a battle for survival—scouring for food by daylight, seeking shelter to sleep without being mauled by wolves at night. And always, there was the looming threat of wildlings.

Now, even though the wildlings were gone, the peril of the Others was far more terrifying.

Sending Eddard alone into the icy grasp of death was akin to sending him to his doom.

"If you are adamant about venturing beyond the Wall, let it be me instead!" Benjen pleaded, the words quivering as they left his lips.

Chapter 644: The Prince's Pass

The endeavor to conquer the Prince's Pass didn't go as smoothly as Jon had envisioned.

Leading a force of two thousand soldiers personally, along with an additional two thousand private troops scraped together by the Riverlands nobles, Jon encircled the Prince's Pass with a formidable force of four thousand men. They obstructed this crucial route through the Red Mountains in Dorne, which connected the Riverlands and the Stormlands.

As war clouds loomed over the land, the commercial caravans traveling between these regions were now forced to navigate the perilous Bone Way or opt for maritime transportation.

The Prince's Pass was Dorne's primary gateway to the outer world. Though the passage wasn't deemed impenetrable, it was still a stronghold, easy to defend yet challenging to conquer.

The Red Mountains flanking the pass served as a natural barrier. They permitted only small troops to cross due to the hazardous terrain that denied the passage of supply wagons.

Even if a large force managed to cross the Red Mountains, without food supplies, they'd be doomed. The defenders merely needed to adopt a scorched-earth strategy, evacuating nearby villages, and the besiegers would starve, or resort to gnawing on tree bark.

Jon Connington, although having served as the Hand of the King for several years, managing the kingdom's affairs, had initially earned his stripes on the battlefield. His experience in warfare was rich and extensive. He knew the defenders would show no mercy when the time came.

He was well aware of the King's ruthlessness. When the King, in a fit of rage, unleashed his wrath upon the relatives of Lord Grafton, he should have anticipated the repercussions.

The worst-case scenario was that 'Old Falcon' Franklyn Frey would be dragged to King's Landing to face the gallows or be cloaked in black.

An even graver outcome was the potential stripping of his titles, eviction from Gulltown, and the disgrace it would bring upon the Frey family.

Should this come to pass, Franklyn Frey would become the eternal disgrace of House Frey.

Therefore, if Lord Frey wished to survive and avoid becoming an eternal disgrace, he now had no choice but to drag more into this quagmire.

The honeymoon period between Dorne and the Iron Throne had ended. The domineering privileges that the Dornish enjoyed throughout the Seven Kingdoms were revoked.

Moreover, as the other regions adopted different standards which lured many Dornish common folk away, the Dornish nobles were struggling even to find tenant farmers for their lands, causing discontent among them.

Although the Dornish nobles didn't know how to articulate their frustrations, they felt ensnared from the moment they had demanded these privileges. And yet, they had walked into this trap willingly.

While the Dornish might not have had a way with words, they were adept at flexing their muscles to showcase their strength. Whenever discontent brewed within them, a rebellion would ensue, expressing their dissatisfaction until sweet concessions from the Iron Throne followed. They had become adept at this cycle of defiance and appeasement.

Thus, the proposal of Lord Franklyn Frey did have a market in Dorne.

He had been busy fending off the royal army's assault while incessantly lobbying other Dornish nobles to join his cause. The position of Sunspear was ambiguous—they expressed opposition but not vehemently.

Some noble houses seemed to waver, showing interest in joining Lord Frey in his cause, plotting a major scheme.

Of course, the lukewarm stance of Sunspear might not be a betrayal by Prince Doran of his son-in-law. Perhaps it was just a way to express discontent towards the Iron Throne.

The current state of Dorne had indeed become an issue that couldn't be ignored. If this trend continued, Dorne's independence would be jeopardized sooner or later.

Moreover, they'd be forcibly integrated into the kingdom, losing their autonomy. The indomitable House Martell would consequently lose the trust and allegiance of the Dornish nobles.

The Prince could disregard the loyalty of the common folk, but he couldn't ignore the trust of the nobility under his rule.

Having a queen from House Martell was a momentary glory. Prince Doran needed to consider the long-term position of House Martell in Dorne. This was the foundation of their house.

Otherwise, even if the future king had Martell blood, he wouldn't favor House Martell over his interests, as his name would still be Targaryen.

"Lord Jon Connington!"

"Please seek justice for me!"

"Those beasts raped and murdered my wife! They killed my son; he was only six!"

In the midst of the Red Mountains, the vast expanse of the royal encampment stretched out in front of the towering Prince's Pass. Numerous white tents, bearing various house banners, adorned this barren, rocky mountain range.

The sparse vegetation and trees swayed in the wind, and a gritty taste pervaded the air—a gift from the wild winds sweeping from the deserts south of the Red Mountains, provoking incessant coughs from those who inhaled it.

Dorne's harsh climate was particularly unforgiving on the slope where not a single tree provided shade. The royal encampment lay exposed under the blazing sun, with temperatures soaring swiftly.

Inside the central tent of the royal army, nobles from the Riverlands had gathered, led by the commander of this rebellion-quelling expedition, the Hand of the King, Jon Connington.

The tent was a cacophony of discord. Coupled with the stifling heat, the atmosphere was both physically and verbally heated, rendering those present irritable and the discussions abrasive.

At the moment, the speaker was another victim of this conflict, Lord Grafton, whose estate, Gulltown, had been ravaged by House Frey. Every member of Lord Grafton's family had been slaughtered, including the maids, guards, and even the chickens, ducks, geese, and two dogs in Gulltown. It was a merciless annihilation that left none alive.

This ruthless act had incited the ire of many Riverlands nobles who, united in their fury, rallied their private armies to besiege the Prince's Pass, seeking justice for Lord Grafton.

Their military strength had been significantly reduced as their armies were confiscated, leaving them with only private troops, the size of which depended on the extent of their lands. This reduction amounted to a scale-down of about five to tenfold.

Once capable of effortlessly amassing an army of twenty thousand, or even over a hundred thousand with concerted efforts, the Riverlands nobles now found themselves with merely a handful of troops.

If Dorne chose not to invade, all was well. However, should they attack, it would be akin to offering their necks to the blade, waiting helplessly for the death blow.

Hence, the recent atrocity had fueled collective outrage, prompting the Riverlands nobles to unite, demanding severe punishment for House Frey.

Even if the King intended to shield House Frey, he now lacked any justification to do so.

Chapter 645: Internal Strife

Certainly, Viserys had no intentions of shielding House Florel.

He shared no kin nor kind with the 'Old Falcon'. Why would he shield him? However, facing the ordeal in Skyreach City, Viserys was not particularly enraged.

He had known long ago that this battle was inevitable; it was merely a question of sooner or later. The landmine he had planted in Dorne a year or two earlier would eventually explode.

Yet, Viserys hadn't expected it to detonate so quickly. With Count Franklin Florel stumbling into the line of fire, Viserys found it fitting to use his head as a warning to others.

Indeed, long before Jon Clifton had drawn soldiers from the Second Legion to march south, Viserys and he had made the final arrangements during a face-to-face meeting in the bookroom of Meagher Tower. Everything was crystal clear between them.

He wanted the head of old Franklin Florel, and the Florel family had to leave Skyreach City.

Although the Florel family had struck first, annihilating the entire Sindford family, the Iron Throne upheld justice without bathing its hands in blood. The guilty were punished, while the innocent remained unharmed.

There was no need for Franklin Florel's twin daughters to be beheaded for their father's sins. However, after being stripped of their lands, their future days would undoubtedly be challenging.

Viserys also gave instructions in advance: should any other Dorne nobles partake in the rebellion, they were to be purged without mercy, leaving no lingering threats. Punish the rebel leaders, confiscate the family lands.

If necessary, Jon Clifton could send a raven, requesting the dragon riders to march south.

However, in Viserys' estimation, the war would not escalate to such an intense degree.

The resistance from the Dornish was not wholehearted. First of all, the resolve of Dorne's common folk was not firm, and the Dornish nobles had their schemes. The situation was different from three hundred years ago when the little queen Rhaenys set Dorne ablaze.

Jon Clifton, following Viserys' decree, marched south leading the army on an expedition to Dorne.

"Alright, Lord Sindford."

"I understand."

Listening to the victims' lament, the middle-aged man with grey-red hair rubbed his temples, slightly troubled as he looked at the map spread out on the table.

He had no idea how to assault the Prince's Pass at the moment.

Although His Majesty had said that when necessary, a message could be sent to request the dragon riders to join the battle, letting dragon flames burn on Dorne's land once again.

But they hadn't even knocked on Dorne's gates yet; it wasn't 'necessary' yet.

Deploying dragon riders was no small feat; it required extreme caution, and the decision could not be taken lightly.

After all, a dragon descending on Dorne meant an escalation of the war, no longer merely quelling the rebellion in Skyreach City, but a full-on invasion by the Iron Throne. This could easily ignite the national sentiments of the Dornish, inciting resistance.

The Dornish had, after all, a precedent of resisting dragon invasions. Furthermore, the harsh climate of Dorne posed challenges for the advancing ground troops.

Now, although the Black Death Balerion 'the Third' was gigantic, its growth had slowed down significantly with its increasing size and tonnage, far from reaching the volume of the previous Black Death.

Therefore, unless it was the most crucial moment, Jon Clifton would not hastily request the Iron Throne to dispatch dragon riders southward.

Otherwise, it would not only display his incompetence but also lead to an escalation of the war, something he didn't want His Majesty to perceive as a failure on his part.

"Does Lord Jon Clifton have any strategies?"

"How can we breach the Prince's Pass and bring the culprit to justice?"

"I see you've been pondering here for a day."

Meanwhile, in the central military tent, a knight with a long-winged dragon emblem amidst a fleur-de-lis pattern on his attire couldn't help but inquire.

The sweltering weather inside the tent was driving everyone irritable, making the tone of his question somewhat disrespectful. He was immediately scolded by the Prime Minister's guard.

"You stand before the King's Prime Minister, Stormlands Governor, and Count of Storm's End, Lord Jon Clifton!"

"Mind your tongue!"

"What did I say? I've been here for a day; can't I ask about the outcome?"

"Besides, when did it become your turn, a lowly servant, to interject while I speak with Lord Clifton?"

However, the Prime Minister's guard's scolding led to a vehement rebuttal from the Levell knight.

"You—"

On the other side, the guard from the Prime Minister's Tower was instantly infuriated, his hand clenched on the hilt of his sword as he glared.

Growing up in King's Landing, with regular ingress and egress in the Red Keep, the people Lord Jon Clifton met with were members of the Privy Council and His Majesty the King. Who were these common folk in comparison? He hadn't expected that a few reprimands would elicit a rebuttal.

"Silence!"

But before the arrogant guard from the Prime Minister's Tower could respond, Jon Clifton, who was standing in the center of the tent with a furrowed brow, gazing at the map, raised his head.

His stern gaze silenced his guard, who immediately recoiled, not daring to utter another word.

He feared not these provincial nobles but his own master, for his power was entirely bestowed by Lord's hand.

Although Jon Clifton was displeased, he didn't punish his guard in front of the Riverlands nobles. Instead, he decided to replace him upon returning to King's Landing.

After all, leading the army south, although relying on some local support, he had to maintain a balance. Being too harsh or too lenient was not suitable, leaving an impression of either being overbearing or weak—neither was a good outcome.

Subsequently, Jon Clifton's gaze shifted to the knight from House Levell, who had just argued.

The knight looked displeased. He, a dignified knight of the kingdom and a guard captain of the Eyrie, was reprimanded by a mere guard.

But Egen Levell pressed down on the hilt of his sword, chose to swallow his pride in the face of Jon Clifton's stern gaze, and said nothing.

"Infighting before a major battle is the road to defeat."

"And if one cannot calm down, it's easy to make wrong judgments, leading to irreversible consequences."

Seeing both disputants fall silent, Jon Clifton finally spoke, his words serving as a wake-up call for many Riverlands nobles who had lost their cool due to the scorching Dornish climate, one of the many hurdles in conquering Dorne.

"I have a thought that might help us breach the Prince's Pass; what do you all think?"

Jon Clifton finally voiced the strategy he had been contemplating, sharing his plan to overcome the enemy.

Chapter 646: Crossing the Mountain Range

Several days later, at the break of dawn.

A squad of fully armed royal soldiers assembled at a location far from Prince's Pass.

Before them towered the steep and soaring Red Mountains. Although the western stretch of the Red Mountains was not as precipitous and perilous as the eastern side, near the Bone Way, it was equally difficult to traverse. A slight misstep could lead to a fatal fall from the towering cliffs.

However, the most significant challenge in crossing the Red Mountains lay not here, but in the barren ridges that provided no cover.

The soldiers of House Fowler of Skyreach could spot any enemy attempting to cross the Red Mountains from a great distance. Many commoners from Dorne, trying to flee across the Red Mountains to the Riverlands, were caught or killed for this reason.

With just a few squads of agile desert cavalry and signal towers along the way, House Fowler could secure this continuous stretch of mountains.

Thus, irrespective of the harsh geographical and climatic conditions of the Red Mountains that made it impossible to support the march of a large-scale army,

Even if a massive enemy force managed to cross the Red Mountains, attempting to bypass and ambush Prince's Pass was virtually impossible.

The barren ridges, devoid of any cover, provided a clear view of the surroundings. The scouts of House Fowler would always detect the traces of the enemy first, then inform the checkpoint at the pass, preparing them for any impending attacks from behind.

The checkpoint at Prince's Pass was not only able to deal with threats from the front but was a robust fortification against attacks from the rear as well.

This was the reason why Prince's Pass had rarely fallen throughout history.

Now, the Hand of the King, Jon Clinton, had handpicked a squad of fifty elite warriors from the ranks.

Equipped with the finest weaponry, they set out from the royal camp, guided by a local through the Red Mountains, planning to ambush Prince's Pass under the cover of darkness.

The ultimate goal was to ignite a colossal fire visible to the entirety of Dorne, while the main royal force would coordinate an assault from the front, striving to conquer this formidable pass with a pincer attack.

This was the idea proposed by Jon Clinton yesterday, now being put into action.

"Lords, the path we have chosen is steep and perilous, almost impossible to pass!"

"But correspondingly, the Fowler scouts pay the least attention to this path. They have focused most of their attention on the main mountain paths, setting up watchtowers on the ridges."

"Attempting to enter the mountains from there without being noticed is nearly impossible."

The guide for the royal forces was a young lad named Karan from a nearby village of Skyreach, who had escaped from under the boots of House Fowler not long ago.

It was during the pursuit led by the sole male heir of House Fowler, Ser Owen Fowler, against Karan and others that a skirmish with knights of House Cendred had occurred.

Subsequently, Owen Fowler lost his life on the highway, which infuriated the 'Old Hawk,' Franklin Fowler, leading him to retaliate fiercely against House Cendred. This act sparked off the war between the nobles of the Riverlands and Dorne.

However, Karan, who had miraculously escaped the Dornish cavalry's onslaught, now served as the royal forces' guide due to his exceptional navigational skills, along with his familiarity with the mountain paths.

Karan had grown up near the Red Mountains, accompanying his father on hunting trips. He was the most gifted hunter in the village. Now, this gifted young hunter had become the royal forces' guide, playing a crucial role in this operation.

"You're Dornish, boy?"

Among the fifty elite chosen by Jon Clinton, some were private soldiers of Riverland nobles.

People have their own biases. When the local nobles had surrendered their military power, they handed over the old, weak, and average soldiers, keeping the most elite for themselves. Although they couldn't retain many, at least it provided some psychological comfort.

Now, a knight with short dark hair and a face full of muscle, bearing the crest of a Riverland noble, scrutinized Karan and questioned his presence.

Though Dorne was home to both Andals and First Men descendants, bearing no significant physical differences from the Riverlanders with their brown or golden hair and fair skin, certain facial details and accents could reveal their origin.

The Riverlander knight had noticed that the young guide was Dornish and voiced his skepticism.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"How can a Dornish bastard guide us in this operation? Huh?"

His sudden outburst drew the attention of the other forty-nine knights and soldiers, who had been quietly arranging their gear. They all looked towards Karan upon hearing the words.

"The choice of guide was personally decided by the Hand of the King, Jon Clinton. Olifa, are you questioning the orders of the Prime Minister?" A knight, who was polishing his sword, glanced at the knight from House Oakheart and spoke calmly.

"Hmph—"

"Of course, I wouldn't question the Prime Minister's orders."

The muscular-faced knight snorted coldly, avoiding the verbal trap laid by the other.

House Oakheart was already having a tough time; questioning Jon Clinton's decisions could further exacerbate their situation. Even if Jon might overlook it, if things escalated, House Oakheart couldn't withstand the repercussions.

However, he was still skeptical about the Dornish identity of the guide, and many other Riverlander-born soldiers and knights shared his doubts.

"This Dornish runt might lead us straight into the 'Old Hawk's' trap, getting us all caught in a net."

Yet, Karan, who was at the receiving end of the accusations, remained silent throughout.

He offered no rebuttals or explanations. His Dornish identity didn't bring him shame. After everyone had had their say, with all eyes on him, the brown-haired boy finally spoke, his voice hoarse.

"I am Dornish."

"But my father, mother, and brother were all killed by House Fowler."

Karan's succinct response silenced the Riverlander knights and soldiers, including the questioning knight from House Oakheart.

His father, the best hunter in the village, didn't die while fleeing but a month before that incident. He had been beaten to death for allegedly evading taxes after he had killed a game that Ser Owen Fowler had eyed, during the selling of its pelt.

Chapter 647: Surprise Attack

A vendetta born from patricide was impossible to bury, let alone for Caron, whose father, mother, and siblings all fell by the hands of House Fowler.

Such hatred could never be dissolved by any means. Perhaps it was for this reason that Lord Jon Clendon chose this Dornish youth as a guide, leading fifty of the most elite assassins from the royal army to ambush the Prince's Pass from behind.

All doubts in the eyes of the other Riverland knights vanished. The knight from House Oakheart, who initially questioned Caron, was now full of remorse, patting Caron on the shoulder.

"I apologize, young brother."

A trace of sorrow briefly crossed the young boy's face with brown locks. Even after such a long time, he hadn't completely emerged from his grief.

However, Caron soon shook his head to compose himself, and then spoke with renewed vigor.

"Now that we are ready, let's set forth."

"My lords."

The journey across the Red Mountains was far from smooth. While the terrain was 'flat' for the most part, correspondingly, there were more Dornish sentries patrolling.

From their watchtowers, they could see far into the distance, and their sentry riders further expanded their surveillance range.

Of course, those attempting to cross the Red Mountains could opt for a nocturnal ascent, but the risks were significantly higher.

In this era, people generally had poor night vision. Without a light source, they were almost blind, and a misstep would lead them to their demise. The top predators of the mountains such as desert wolves and mountain cats were far more active during the night, making a daytime adventure under the eyes of the Dornish sentries seemingly less perilous.

Now, Caron led fifty soldiers and knights from the royal army on a path much less 'smooth'.

They chose a steeper and more perilous route because their party was large and this area was where the Dornish sentries paid the least attention. The Dornish didn't expect anyone would dare take this route.

Initially, when Caron led the villagers across the Red Mountains, he did not choose this route as most villagers were old, frail, or handicapped. Traveling this path was akin to sending them to their deaths. They could not progress during the night, so they risked the main route, which ultimately led them into the hands of Dornish cavalry.

This time, the party progressed in silence, with the Dornish youth leading the way. He was tied with a coarse hemp rope around his waist, using both his hands and feet proficiently. His fingers gripped the crevices in the rock, and after ensuring a firm hold, he continued to climb upwards, applying the same meticulousness to his footing on the rocky ascent.

The steep cliff seemed within arm's reach, yet paradoxically, it felt as if it was on the horizon.

Caron lifted his head to glance at the blazing sun overhead. The sunlight was somewhat blinding, sweat continuously trickled down his forehead. After catching his breath, he continued his upward climb.

Crack—

However, at this moment, a soldier lost his grip when trying to grasp the next rock, which suddenly loosened.

"Ah—"

He screamed horrifically as he plummeted down the cliff, landing with a sickening thud that turned him into a mound of flesh.

His companion's fall to death and the scream before it posed a serious problem for the rest.

"Damn it!"

The scream echoed far and wide within the open valley. All the royal army soldiers and knights scaling the cliff felt a shiver run down their spines. The knight from House Oakheart couldn't help but curse.

Now they were halfway up the slope. Although it wasn't a straight ninety-degree climb, it was steep nonetheless.

If that scream had alerted the Dornish, all they needed was one person above to shoot arrows or throw stones, and none below would escape. They would all perish here.

Including the young guide Caron, everyone's hearts raced as they clung to the rock face, awaiting the eventual outcome.

Fortunately, after a while, no Dornish seemed to have heard the scream or came to check. There seemed to be no Dornish sentries nearby. They had dodged a bullet.

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

"From now on, if anyone falls, be a man and keep your mouth shut!"

"Don't drag everyone down!"

The knight from House Oakheart spoke menacingly with a pickaxe in hand. The rest of the soldiers and knights remained silent, seemingly acknowledging this rule.

If one fell, death was certain. Screaming wouldn't help; it was better to leave the hope of survival to the others.

"Continue!"

The party resumed their climb.

Not long after, another man lost his grip and fell off the cliff. This time, his eyes were filled with despair, but he gritted his teeth and made no sound. In the end, there was only the muffled thud of a heavy object hitting the ground.

The rest of the party remained silent, gritting their teeth slightly. No one said a word, and they continued their climb.

The operation had yet to begin, and already they were taking losses. By the time the last man reached the top, eight men had been lost, including a knight.

Yet, there was no joy amongst those who successfully reached the top, as they knew this was only half the mission accomplished. A harder path awaited them.

They crossed the peak of the Red Mountains and continued towards the other side, following their guide.

After enduring many hardships and dangerous situations, the party finally arrived near the rear of Prince's Pass a few days later.

Now, fewer than half of the original party remained. However, they had completed their mission, successfully sneaking up to the rear of the Prince's Pass right under the noses of the Dornish.

The Dornish soldiers stationed at the rear were still very lax, unaware of the enemies lurking nearby.

"What should we do next?"

The party lay in the surrounding woods, observing the movements of the soldiers at the rear gate of the Prince's Pass. They figured out their patrol and guard schedules but found no excuse to approach the gate.

If they stormed over shouting, they'd probably be riddled with arrows by the Dornish halfway, rendering all previous efforts in vain.

"My lords! "I have an idea."

At this moment, the Dornish youth Caron, who was lying amongst the group, saw a convoy delivering supplies to the pass not far away, and suddenly spoke up.

"Hmm?"

Upon hearing Caron, everyone's eyes turned to him.

After the previous trials and tribulations, everyone now held Caron in high regard, considering him a comrade they could trust with their lives.

Chapter 648: Hijacking the Path

On the main road leading from Skyreach to Prince's Pass,

Clippety-clop--

The hooves hit the soft earth, trailed by a line of carriages laden with goods, their wheels churning a melody of travel.

They bore the banner of Kingsgrave, displaying a white skull crowned in gold against a black background.

The emblem and name of the town hailed from the founder of House Manwoody, who once slew a Riverlands king on this very ground.

This convoy carried supplies to the front lines, mainly Dornish wine to reward the soldiers, along with dried meats and a smattering of gold and silver.

Due to Dorne's perennial hot and arid climate, fresh meats like pork, beef, or mutton could hardly be preserved for long, hence the necessity of drying them swiftly and salting them for longer shelf life.

Kingsgrave, the domain of House Manwoody, was a close neighbor to Prince's Pass. Though not the 'Guardians of the Pass', they had tight-knit relations with the Fowler family of Skyreach.

This time, Lord Franklin Fowler, the 'Guardian of the Pass', had committed an offense against the kingdom's laws, inviting severe retribution.

The Fowler family was actively persuading other Dornish nobles to join their cause. Although House Manwoody did not openly pledge allegiance to the Fowlers in defiance of the royal army—deeming the rebellion too risky—they clandestinely provided some material support to the defenders.

For instance, this batch of reward supplies soon to be delivered to the rear of Prince's Pass, was now under the charge of Dickon Manwoody, the second son of the Count of Kingsgrave.

The young Dornish lord was not a knight, a rarity in Dorne due to its unique history and culture which somewhat alienated it from the rest of Westeros. Hence, knights were a sparse breed here.

At the moment, Dickon Manwoody rode at the forefront of the convoy, nonchalantly whistling a tune, appearing utterly relaxed without a trace of vigilance.

He donned scale armor cloaked in a sandy-colored robe, a white turban wrapped around his head, a curved blade tucked at his waist, and neatly trimmed sideburns adorning his face.

Behind him, two to three dozen soldiers from Kingsgrave escorted the carriages. They too wore sandy-colored leather armor embroidered with scales, brandishing spears with one hand, the other holding metallic round shields.

The harsh sun overhead seared the earth like a blazing fireball, with not a breath of wind to be felt. The extreme heat was unbearable. The Dornish soldiers, having marched half a day under the scorching sun, were drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted with beads of perspiration continually trickling down their foreheads.

"Let's take a break, young Master Dickon."

"The pack horses can hardly move."

One soldier from Kingsgrave, utterly drained, couldn't help but plead with their young lord.

Crack—

A whip lashed across his body, causing him to stagger, nearly falling to the ground.

Without hesitation, Dickon Manwoody, upon hearing the soldier's request, lashed him with his whip. The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a cold, stern tone.

"Hurry up!"

"If we don't reach the Pass by nightfall, do you fancy sleeping out in the open with me?"

"Yes, yes."

Seeing young Master Dickon enraged, the other soldiers from Kingsgrave, although drained to the bone, dared not utter a word of complaint. After all, the young master's father was the Count of Kingsgrave. They could only muster whatever strength remained and grit their teeth to continue the arduous journey.

Yet, just as they proceeded, a furious roar resounded from the cliffs flanking the road to Prince's Pass above their heads.

"Kill them!"

Subsequently, over twenty skilled soldiers from the royal army seemed to descend from the heavens. No one knew where they emerged from as they brandished their longswords and charged at them.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Dickon Manwoody, the heir of Kingsgrave, was aghast at the sight. He hastily drew the curved blade from his waist as he struggled to control his frightened steed.

"Damn it!"

"Kill them!"

"Kill them!"

Dickon swung his blade, commanding his soldiers vehemently.

The Dornish soldiers, without needing further instruction from Dickon, tightly gripped their weapons, forming a protective ring around the carriages. They watched as the assailants charged, gulping down the lump of fear lodged in their throats.

"Attack!"

In the next moment, a melee ensued, the clanging of steel and cries of pain filled the air.

"Die!"

The soldiers of Kingsgrave resisted valiantly. However, due to the long, exhausting march under the blistering sun, they were severely fatigued, some even showing signs of heatstroke.

How could these Dornish soldiers, in such a state, be a match for the handpicked warriors led by Jon Clifton?

Therefore, the Dornish soldiers were quickly overwhelmed, retreating step by step, until the last man was cornered by Olifer.

"Die!"

He shouted, lunging forward with his spear at the knight of House Ochre. Yet, the knight easily dodged the attack, piercing the soldier's throat with his sword.

After withdrawing the blade, the corpse tumbled to the ground. The burly Riverlands knight wiped the blood off his blade with the dead man's clothes, sheathing his sword as he looked toward the other side.

Here, Dickon Manwoody, the heir of Kingsgrave, seemed to have attempted to break through the encirclement on horseback during the skirmish.

But he was seized by the Dornish boy, Caron, who served as their guide, forcibly dismounted, and captured alive.

"Spare me!"

"Spare me!"

"My Lords, I surrender! I surrender!"

The heir of Kingsgrave was now a sight to behold—his turban knocked off, his body covered in dirt, a picture of utter disarray.

Dickon Manwoody was desperate to live. Realizing escape was impossible after being dismounted, he simply dropped his blade, raised his hands, and knelt on the ground in surrender.

"Pah—"

"Coward!"

A knight from the Riverlands spat in disdain at Dickon's direction after sheathing his sword.

On the other hand, the leader of this expedition, a somewhat cold-natured knight from the Riverlands, calmly sheathed his blade. He glanced around, the corpses scattered around catching his eye, before finally focusing on Dickon Manwoody.

"The emblem of Kingsgrave, which Manwoody lord might you be?"

"Dickon, my Lord. My name is Dickon."

Dickon hurriedly responded, kneeling on the ground.

"Oh, Lord Dickon."

"No worries, no need to panic. We just need you to do one thing for us. Accomplish it, and you shall be set free."

Chapter 649: Chapter 649 - The Bank

In the bay area, knights had apprehended a noble from Dorne, but to what end? It was abundantly clear that no good would come of it.

However, Dicken Manwoody valued his life greatly and had no intentions of meeting his end here. Despite the cold sweat trickling down his forehead upon hearing the demands, he steeled himself and agreed to their terms.

This was the suggestion of the young Dornish guide, Caren, during their expedition, a notion that found unanimous agreement among all present, including the commander. And thus, they began executing the plan.

They spent a considerable amount of time observing and understanding the pattern of supply troops heading towards Prince's Pass, meticulously chose their opponents, and ambushed one of the supply troops.

Their plan was to disguise as a supply troop heading to Prince's Pass, blending in while escorting the supplies, causing disruption from within, and coordinating with the main force outside to take control of Prince's Pass.

At the moment, they had cleared the battlefield, dragging all the corpses into the woods for a hasty burial. They then donned the armor of the Dornish soldiers. The customary attire of Dorne played a significant role; with the shrouds covering half their faces, their original identities were concealed, transforming them into Dornishmen.

The unfortunate second son of Kingsgrave had now become a hostage, his face a key to opening the gates of Prince's Pass.

Although he still rode his warhorse, whistling nonchalantly, the panic in his eyes was hard to hide, for a burly 'Dornish soldier' with a face full of mean scars trailed beside him.

The soldier had a sharp dagger tucked at his waist. Just before setting off, he had gestured near Dicken's thigh, indicating a major vein there, boasting how sharp his dagger was, capable of shaving a spider's legs.

Should Dicken scream or utter nonsense at the gates of Prince's Pass, the dagger would find its way into his thigh.

He would not only lose his virility but, more crucially, the thigh housed a major blood supply route to the lower limb.

A savage stab, followed by a cruel twist in the flesh, and blood would spurt out like a fountain. No one could render aid in time; he'd die of excessive blood loss.

As long as Dicken cooperated, they would spare him such a fate.

The good-cop-bad-cop routine had drained the color from the young Kingsgrave, agreeing hastily, his earlier bravado vanished, leaving a trembling figure atop his horse.

From the ambush to the cleanup, not half an hour had elapsed. Fortunately, due to the Dornish nobility's strict vigilance against civilian escape, the populace of Dorne were confined, and the major road to Prince's Pass was sealed off, allowing them a window of half an hour without any passerby.

Once again, the 'supply troop' embarked on their journey, oblivious to the grey-backed hawk perched on a nearby tree branch, its head tilted, observing them.

It witnessed the entire scene without making a sound, merely observing in silence.

Viserys remained in King's Landing, but in his idle time, he utilized the Old Gods' powers, channeling a portion of his consciousness into the hawk, spectating the battlefield near Prince's Pass, curious about Jon Connington's strategy to breach the city.

"Fascinating," he murmured.

Seated in the King's study in Maegor's Tower, Viserys tapped the wooden armrest of his chair lightly. His eyes mirrored the scene unfolding miles away.

Compared to Bran Stark's trajectory, Viserys' psychic powers were vastly superior, with divine fire burning within him now.

Thus, Viserys could multitask, controlling the hawk while retaining autonomous consciousness, pondering other matters.

"Sire," interjected the Master of Coin, Illyrio Mopatis, his face bearing a hint of confusion. It was rare for the King to be distracted during state affairs.

At present, his work was laying the groundwork for an economic overhaul across the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

The Small Council had long ago passed a resolution to establish a central bank akin to the Iron Bank of Braavos and the Thirteen of Qarth.

The populace could deposit and withdraw their savings freely, with the Iron Throne providing guarantees.

As for interest on deposits? Unthinkable. The central bank would offer no interest but charge a nominal storage fee, essentially safeguarding the assets of depositors.

Although it might sound unfair, it was a norm in this era, even the Iron Bank charged a storage fee.

Given the peculiar nature of metallic currency, handling, storing, or safeguarding it was a hassle, prone to loss or accidents.

Thus, depositing in the bank became an optimal solution. Many nobles across the Seven Kingdoms stored their savings in the Iron Bank, including the Tyrells of Highgarden, who, despite contributing over a million gold dragons to the royal treasury, remained affluent due to diversified assets and investments.

The overarching military strategy of the Iron Throne was to reclaim the North, with the pacification of the Dornish rebellion a mere sidebar.

On the diplomatic front, troops were deployed to Naath to defend the erstwhile imperial vassal from enslavement. Although Westeros lacked a slavery system, it didn't vehemently oppose slavery like Braavos did.

Negotiations with Slaver's Bay were inevitable, for without trade, there'd be no slaughter.

With clear objectives in military and political arenas, the Master of Coin, though understated, was perhaps the busiest person post-war, healing the wounds of war before delving into economic reforms.

He drew inspiration from the free cities, initiating a series of economic reforms to disrupt the old financial order.

Once the central bank of the Iron Throne was established, a currency change was on the horizon. They'd gradually collect old versions of gold dragons, silver moons, silver stags, copper stars, and others, remelting them to mint new metallic coins.

Excellent, excellent, congratulations to EDG!

Chapter 650: Plea for Mercy

"Your Grace."

Upon noticing Viserys's gaze returning, the rotund Pentoshi, standing at the other end of the desk, cradled a large tome, perusing the detailed data recorded therein. He resumed speaking.

"Your Grace, last month's harbor transactions amounted to…"

Inside the Red Keep, King Viserys was engrossed in state affairs. Meanwhile, in the southernmost tip of Westeros, at Dorne's northern gate…

A hawk perched atop a tree observed a caravan transporting supplies depart. The grey-backed falcon flapped its wings, issued a sharp cry, and soared high, following the same direction the caravan had taken.

That very night, as darkness began to set in…

A convoy carrying supplies approached the mighty checkpoint, following the pathway of the Prince's Pass.

They flew the banners of the Manwoody family of Kingsgrave. Leading them was a man on horseback, accompanied by a servant, and guarded by twenty soldiers holding dim torches.

"Open the gates!"

Upon reaching the gateway, a young Dornish lad named Caren called out.

"Halt!"

"Who goes there?"

From atop the walls, torches ablaze, Dornish guards noticed the caravan bearing the Manwoody banner. However, protocol demanded they confirm the party's identity.

"It's your turn, Lord Deacon."

"Choose your words wisely."

Beneath the walls of the Prince's Pass, the fierce Riverland knight whispered threateningly to the second son of Kingsgrave. Unnoticed by the guards above, the knight had a dagger pressed against Deacon Manwoody's thigh, ready to plunge and twist at the slightest provocation.

Despite the potential for a massacre, Deacon's death seemed certain.

Yet Deacon, a lover of Dorne and his family, cherished his life above all else.

Feeling the dagger's sharp edge against his thigh, almost piercing through his trousers, Deacon gulped. He didn't wish to end his life prematurely, so he responded with a shaky yet feigned composure.

"It's me."

"Are you blind? Can't you recognize me?"

Deacon Manwoody, seated on his horse, looked up. With the nightfall and scarce torchlight, the soldiers on the wall struggled to discern his face. But his voice was familiar to them. Given Kingsgrave's proximity to the Prince's Pass and the recent supplies from the Manwoody family, they recognized Lord Deacon's voice.

"My apologies, Lord Deacon."

Recognizing Deacon's voice, the guard on the wall signaled to his comrades below.

"Open the gates!"

Seeing the mere twenty men, the guards felt no threat. After all, even if they were enemies, a takeover seemed outlandish. Each man would have to defeat a hundred.

Such warriors did not exist. Not even the legendary 'Sword of the Morning', Ser Arthur Dayne, could handle those odds.

Thus, seeing it was Deacon Manwoody, the guards dropped their guard and let the caravan into the city.

Franklyn Fowler felt restless.

Ever since the last male heir of House Fowler perished in the Riverlands, Franklyn had been consumed by rage. He had raided the Cendford castle but failed to capture Lord Cendford, venting his anger on the lord's family.

Realizing the gravity of his actions, regret consumed Franklyn. Not for the act itself, but for the consequences.

Having seen King Viserys firsthand during the coronation and trials in King's Landing, Franklyn knew of the young king's ruthless streak. The trials had seen many nobles meet their fate, and Franklyn feared he had crossed a line.

Times had changed.

In a dimly lit room, the aging 'Old Hawk', Franklyn Fowler, rubbed his temples. Age was catching up, and the strain of his thoughts weighed heavily on him.

He sat in a room within the Prince's Pass, a freshly written letter before him. The letter bore the Fowler motto, 'Let Me Soar', and was addressed to the Martell family of Sunspear.

Prince Doran was the king's father-in-law, having given the kingdom a queen.

Franklyn felt unsettled. Pondering his next move, he decided to pen a letter to Prince Doran, hoping the prince might intercede on his behalf, pleading for his life.

Chapter 651: UPDATED Chapter 651: Breaching Prince's Pass

In the face of an inevitable confrontation, the Lord of Skyreach hoped that the matter could be downplayed. However, the Riverlands nobles were not willing to let it go so easily.

The Riverlands nobles, with their imposing army stationed before Prince's Pass, were not there to conquer it. With only two thousand men, they couldn't possibly breach such a formidable stronghold, especially when it was defended by an equal number.

Their intent was to make a grand spectacle, ensuring the entire realm knew of the crime committed by Franklin Fowler, hoping he would face justice.

Lord Fowler, having retreated to Prince's Pass, was actively seeking allies. He tried to negotiate with the Riverlands nobles, offering them benefits in exchange for their forgiveness, but was met with rejection. On the other hand, he was also trying to rally the Dornish lords to his cause. The more support he had, the better his chances of survival.

Now, he penned another letter of plea, hoping Prince Doran would intercede on his behalf with the king, considering their past relations. Since the incident, aside from a single letter from Prince Doran inquiring about the situation, there had been no further communication between them. Franklin Fowler was now desperate and constantly on edge.

Meanwhile, soldiers from the royal army, who had secretly infiltrated Prince's Pass, began their covert operation. Among the Dornish, there are the Salt Men, Stone Men, and Sand Men. Not all resembled the Rhoynar. For instance, the Stone Men had pale skin and blue eyes. Among the infiltrators were Riverlands soldiers and knights, as well as Rhoynar warriors from the Second Legion.

They blended perfectly, except for their distinct accents. The unsuspecting Dornish guards let them in without a second thought. Once inside, they had a place to rest. The supply team members would stay in these rooms before returning to King's Landing the next day. A knight from House Oakheart kept a close watch on Dickon Manwoody, ensuring he made no suspicious moves.

"What's our next move, sir?" one of the royal soldiers asked their commander, Ser Caswell.

Ser Caswell pondered for a moment before replying, "The Hand of the King instructed us to set a massive fire in Prince's Pass."

"Then we should locate the city's supply storage."

To start a massive fire, they needed wildfire. Every city had stores of it, typically kept with military supplies. Finding the storerooms in Prince's Pass would lead them to the wildfire, allowing them to set the blaze.

Outside Prince's Pass, in the royal army's camp, the night was dark, but the main tent was still brightly lit.

The Hand of the King, Jon Connington, was pondering how to breach Prince's Pass. He had four thousand soldiers, while the defending Fowlers had two thousand. Even with the numerical advantage, the defenders had the stronghold's advantage. A direct assault might be costly.

He had pinned his hopes on a surprise attack by fifty brave soldiers he had dispatched earlier. However, days had passed without any news.

Suddenly, a shout interrupted his thoughts. "My Lord! Look outside!"

"Prince's Pass is on fire!"

Jon Connington and the other commanders rushed out to see a massive fire engulfing the ancient stronghold.

"They did it!" The commanders exclaimed.

"Prepare to attack!" Jon Connington ordered.

As the fire raged inside Prince's Pass, the royal army outside was ready to strike. The Dornish defenders were in chaos, trying to put out the fire while defending against the royal army's assault.

The Dornish command was in disarray. Soldiers couldn't find their commanders, and commanders couldn't rally their troops. The relentless fire consumed many lives.

The battle raged all night. By dawn, the royal army had breached Prince's Pass. The defenders were either dead, wounded, or had surrendered. Franklin Fowler, the 'Guardian of the Pass', sensing the tide turning against him, abandoned the city and fled to his ancestral home, Skyreach.

Chapter 652: Visiting Myr

The tranquil waves of the sea parted as a fleet, laden with crew and cargo, sailed serenely through the vast and gentle waters of the Myrish sea.

A woman with short black hair and long legs stood at the prow. The gentle sea breeze caressed her face, tousling her hair strands.

"Miss, we're nearing Myr," reported an Ironborn, drawing the dark-haired woman from her thoughts.

She looked up to see the silhouette of a city in the distance. Giving a slight nod of acknowledgment, she didn't say much but turned to head below deck.

This woman, clad in black leather armor with a curved blade at her waist, was none other than Asha Greyjoy, the "Kraken's Daughter," entrusted with a significant mission and commanding this expedition to Naath.

Asha's tight armor accentuated her slender figure. With a brisk pace, she descended into the ship's cabin.

Most of her chosen companions were Ironborn left by her father, while the rest were naval forces trained by the Master of Ships and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, Joffrey Bracken. They comprised the fleet of three main vessels and numerous escort ships.

Soon after, horns sounded over the sea. The Myrish fleet had spotted the royal navy. They flew the banner of House Targaryen, its three-headed dragon visible even from afar.

Yet the Myrish fleet didn't panic. Asha Greyjoy's visit had been pre-announced through a messenger from the Pentos governor, Bessie Joyce.

After departing King's Landing, Asha's fleet crossed the Narrow Sea to Pentos for repairs and carried a decree from Viserys. Bessie Joyce, the "Saint" and "Ironface," was an early Kingsguard for Viserys, now also holding the title of Lord Commander. He had long ceased his duties as a bodyguard and became a leading general.

Many believed his transformation resulted from severe burns he sustained while saving someone from a fire, which rendered him incapable of wielding a sword. Over time, he learned and grew to become a military leader.

However, little did they know, Bessie had fully recovered and was even stronger than before. He could defeat dozens of his guards with a wooden sword.

But Bessie's true potential remained a mystery even to him. He only knew that ever since the king infused a special dark energy into his forehead, his abilities had grown immensely. He felt clearer, more agile, and more powerful.

Bessie attributed all his fortunes to King Viserys. Without him, Bessie would have remained an ordinary shepherd boy.

Bessie had always been approached by various factions, hoping to turn him against his king. Some even offered high prices to buy a young dragon. However, his unwavering loyalty thwarted all their attempts.

That unwavering loyalty was what made Viserys trust Bessie to guard the rear.

"Welcome, esteemed envoys of the Empire, to Myr," greeted an elderly man with thinning hair, drenched in sweat, as the fleet displaying the Targaryen dragon banner docked at Myr's harbor. He hadn't waited long but was already anxious.

The city of Myr, once renowned for its craftsmanship and splendor, had been reborn after its devastating destruction.

However, the rebirth of Myr wasn't without its challenges. Valantis, Lys, and Tyrosh eyed the city greedily. They installed puppet governors claiming to be the rulers of Myr, but in reality, they served their home cities.

Asha Greyjoy had done her homework before arriving in Myr. Viserys had stressed the importance of her mission, and she was eager to prove herself.

In this age, she, as a woman, was as capable as any man.

Chapter 653: The Three Governors

"Asha Greyjoy," mused Governor Mors.

The white-haired elder before her was scrutinized by Asha Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands.

According to the intelligence she had gathered in Pentos, this man was a wealthy merchant who traded between Myr and Volantis. His fleet had fortuitously left port just as Myr faced its ruin, sparing him from disaster.

Afterward, Mors was approached by the people of Volantis, aiding him in his return to Myr, and now he represents the interests of Volantis.

He donated a significant fortune to restore his homeland and, thus, also referred to himself as Governor. Asha's address of him as 'Governor Mors' stemmed from this.

"Hmph, a lapdog of Volantis dares to call himself a governor,"

A young man adorned in luxurious attire approached the harbor of the Myrish sea with a retinue in tow, sarcastically addressing Governor Mors with unabashed rudeness.

"You..."

The once-trembling elder, momentarily halted his rebuttal as another group rushed over from a different direction.

"Welcome to Myr, Emissary of the True Dragon."

This time, a middle-aged man, clothed in a modest light yellow robe, adorned with various gemstone rings on every finger, and sporting a small mustache above his lips, spoke.

"Forgive our appearance."

He remained serene, ignoring the conflict of the two others, gazing at Asha and the Ironborn soldiers behind her before continuing.

"The naval might of the Empire is truly astounding."

Technically, Valyria isn't an empire but a freehold, a unique political entity. Nonetheless, due to its powerful stature, expansive territory, diverse population, and multitude of ethnicities, it's commonly referred to as an empire.

Valyria's forty families collectively elect rulers, somewhat akin to the Sea Lord of Braavos, who serves for life. The Targaryen family, due to its meager power, never ventured close to the title of the elected king.

However, following the fall of the Valyrian Freehold, a 'Valyrian Emperor' did emerge.

Dragonlord Aurion, one of the few surviving Dragonlords, mustered forces in Qohor, declaring himself Emperor of Valyria.

He rode his dragon, leading thirty thousand infantry towards the remnants of Valyria, intent on reconstructing the freehold. Yet, following this, neither Emperor Aurion nor his army were ever seen again.

Viserys, though initially crowned at Dragonstone at the tender age of seven or eight, and having several smaller coronations throughout his life due to his expansion of the kingdom to the Narrow Sea, rarely has his titles of Prince of Pentos and Andalos mentioned anymore.

Now, the entirety of Westeros and even lands across the Narrow Sea perpetuate a concept: that they all belong to a unified nation.

Even now, the definitive status of King's Landing and Pentos as capitals has not been legally established, with Viserys simply residing in King's Landing in recent years.

Viserys has never proclaimed himself emperor, yet the world broadly regards him as such, and the merged kingdom of Westeros, Andalos, and Pentos is referred to as an empire.

"My name is Salladhor Saan, a mercenary ship captain. My father hailed from Myr, while my mother was a woman of Lys, and currently, I serve as one of the governors of Myr."

The man in the light yellow robe, his slightly dark skin contrasted against the cloth, and hands bedecked with rings, spoke with an upright posture.

"To speak frankly, Emissary of the True Dragon, Myr now has three governors, each of us supported by a different power."

"Governor Mors is a spice merchant who operates in Volantis, now representing Volantene interests in Myr," Salladhor Saan began, turning with Asha towards the first speaking white-haired elder, Governor Mors, who nodded in agreement despite a slightly displeased expression.

"And this young Orton Adarys, a governor, is supported by Tyrosh. Interestingly, he is also a familiar face."

"During the War of the Ninepenny Kings, 'Silvertongue' Aquilo Adarys once ruled Tyrosh. After the war's defeat and subsequent six-year rule by Aquilo, he was poisoned, and the Archon of Tyrosh was restored."

"Governor Orton Adarys is 'Silvertongue's' youngest son."

"As for myself, as introduced to the Emissary just now, my father was Myrish, and my mother, a woman of Lys, a city renowned for its courtesans."

"I grew up assisting my mother with her clientele in her little abode, and upon maturity, took to the seas, eventually acquiring my own fleet, thus Lys has supported my position here."

"Quite serendipitous."

"Does the Emissary perhaps know of Davos Seaworth?"

"He's now known as the 'Onion Knight', I hear, working within the customs department in King's Landing. We have become quite the old friends."

Salladhor Saan spoke unreservedly, revealing not only the backgrounds of the other governors of Myr but his own humble origins as well.

Conversely, the young governor, clad in lavish attire, appeared slightly discontented, unable to resist his own sarcastic retort.

"Salladhor, you're but a bastard, raised by a whore, with no right to stand amongst us!"

"What's this about becoming a captain after going to sea? Just admit you're a pirate!"

Orton Adarys exposed the embellished nature of Salladhor's words. However, Salladhor Saan remained unphased, simply shrugging slightly.

"Tsk, tsk. Truly the son of 'Silvertongue', Orton, your venom knows no bounds."

The Tyroshi-supported young governor was indeed sharp-tongued, managing to mock two governors of Myr in just a short span of time.

Myr had always operated under a council of governors, so having three present wasn't unusual. While these three outwardly exhibited fierce competition, they covertly collaborated to exclude others aspiring to become governors.

Asha, her black hair cascading down her shoulders, observed their ceaseless bickering, reflecting upon the intelligence she had received in Pentos regarding the current state of Myr.

In the aftermath of its rebuilding, Myr was governed by three, backed by Volantis, Lys, and Tyrosh.

A spice merchant, an usurper's offspring, and a pirate?

Asha suddenly felt that this journey might become quite intriguing after all.

Chapter 654: Nocturnal Visit

In the heart of Meereen's harbor, the kingdom's navy lay anchored. Asha Greyjoy, with a handful of her followers, temporarily took residence within the walls of the reborn city.

Meereen, resurrected from ashes, still bore the scars of past wars. Half-collapsed towers, palaces that remained broken and unrepaired, and traces of fires that once raged. Dominating the city center was a towering stone monument.

"This monument is in memory of the tragedy years ago. Hundreds of thousands of Meereenese fell to the Dothraki's blades," explained Governor Mors, the Valyrian spice merchant who first greeted Asha.

The other magistrates, Orton Adris, son of 'Silvertongue', one of the Ninepenny Kings, and the self-proclaimed Prince of the Narrow Sea, the pirate Salador Saan, had left after meeting the emissary from the Iron Throne.

Orton, curious about the ones who had defeated his father, later learned that the young knight who ended the War of the Ninepenny Kings and the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion, Baelistan Selmy, had met his end in Riverrun—betrayed by one of his Kingsguard, a dagger through his throat. The others who shone on the battlefield, Stannis Baratheon, Tywin Lannister, and Yris, had all passed away.

The enigmatic pirate Salador Saan, who claimed to be a friend of the 'Onion Knight', merely flashed Asha Greyjoy a cryptic smile, suggesting that if she ever grew tired of Mors' company, she could always find solace in his quarters.

Adorned with ten gleaming rings, Saan looked less a pirate and more a nouveau riche. However, it was the spice merchant Mors who was assigned by Pentos to handle this diplomatic affair with Meereen. Thus, Asha and her party were treated as his honored guests.

"I've read about that history, Magistrate Mors," Asha acknowledged.

"As an emissary of the Iron Throne, I express our condolences to Meereen. The Dothraki culprits must face the consequences of their actions."

While Asha Greyjoy rode on horseback, Mors, the aging spice merchant, who could no longer mount a horse, rode in a palanquin. He invited Asha to join him, but she declined. In her mind, only those without legs needed such transport. Besides, she didn't fancy sharing close quarters with a toothless old man.

Furthermore, she was correct in her assertion. The Dothraki who had ravaged Meereen were not the same ones who had surrendered to House Targaryen.

The Dothraki who submitted to the Targaryens had been captured on the battlefield, while those who later attacked Meereen were remnants that had fled from Pentos. Disheartened by their unsuccessful eastern conquest, several khals joined forces, launching a surprise attack on Meereen.

As hooves struck cobblestones and wheels rumbled, the convoy made its way through Meereen's streets. Flanking the magistrate's entourage were the tiger-cloaked soldiers of Valyria.

Asha Greyjoy was accompanied by loyal Ironborn and emissaries from Nars. The Ironborn donned leather armor, curved blades at their waists, and a fierce look in their eyes. A young woman wore a black cloak with gold-trimmed leather armor and shining boots.

As they moved through the streets, Meereen's citizens and slaves stepped aside, casting curious glances. They observed the banners held by the Ironborn: one depicting House Targaryen's three-headed dragon, and the other, House Greyjoy's golden kraken.

Asha Greyjoy temporarily resided in Governor Mors' mansion, planning to stay in Meereen for about a week before setting off for Tyrosh.

However, that very night, someone came knocking.

Thud.

The sudden noise roused Asha Greyjoy from her slumber. With a swift motion, her hand was already gripping a dagger concealed beneath her pillow.

Used to hostile environments, Asha even slept with her armor on, only removing her cloak. She deftly rose, dagger ready. Unlike most ladies, she favored weapons over dresses, sharing this trait with the likes of Brienne of Tarth and Arya Stark. Arya, currently residing in King's Landing, often sought swordplay lessons from Kingsguard Mya.

Asha, having once roamed Valyria as a mercenary, was no ordinary woman. She was among the top assassins there, even once shattering Baelistan Selmy's sword, becoming a tale among the people.

Now, with subtle noises outside her door, Asha was alert, her eyes piercingly focused on the entrance.

The door swung open, revealing a robust man, cloaked in black and hooded. Beside him lay an Ironborn, unconscious.

"Fear not."

"He's merely unconscious," the man assured, unhooding himself. It was Salador Saan, his fingers now free of the ostentatious rings, a curved blade at his side, and black bands wrapped around his wrists.

"It's been a while since I've had to fight; I've grown somewhat rusty," Salador admitted, working his shoulders.

In his youth, he was a formidable pirate, terrifying many a merchant fleet in the Narrow Sea. Had his skills not waned, the Ironborn would have been silenced without a sound.

"Emissary, I mean no harm visiting you at this late hour. There are simply matters to discuss, unsuitable for others' ears."

Chapter 655: Imperial Support

"Oh?"

"What would you like to discuss?"

Upon hearing the words of this pirate governor, another might have already cried out for guards or cast him out. But a woman from the Iron Islands is anything but ordinary.

Clink.

Asha, hearing his words, not only refrained from ejecting him but sheathed her dagger instead, placing it upon her tight leather pants. She then crossed her legs, speaking with intrigued curiosity.

"I hope to gain the Empire's support."

And this dark-skinned pirate governor, Salador Saan, spoke without hesitation.

"The Empire's support?"

Asha's eyes narrowed slightly upon hearing the words.

"Yes, I want to become the sole governor of Meereen, to eliminate Mors and Orton Adris."

Thereafter, this pirate governor, Salador Saan, laid bare his ambitions without any pretense.

Salador Saan came from humble beginnings; his mother was a tavern wench, abandoned after becoming pregnant by his father. Subsequently, under financial strain, Salador's mother became a bedslave, until her death.

Salador recalls a childhood without even a proper pair of shoes, running barefoot across floors, consuming meals that others would find repulsive, amid swarms of flies and mosquitoes.

Therefore, the greatest dream of Salador Saan was to slaughter his irresponsible father and alter his and his descendants' fate.

While the former seemed unlikely—Salador's mother had passed away from illness during one of his sea voyages, and he knew not who his father was—the latter was precisely the dream that this notorious pirate across the Narrow and Summer Seas was perpetually chasing.

He hoped to alter his fate, desiring that his descendants would not endure the miseries he once did.

Initially, Salador thought acquiring ample wealth would suffice. But, after plundering substantial riches, he realized the key to altering his destiny lay not in wealth, but a change in status.

As a pirate, he'd never be respected.

Even if he plundered endless treasures, intimidating countless merchants, this remained unchangeable. Even entering cities was challenging due to bounties on him everywhere.

Especially when he learned that his former smuggling companion, Davos Seaworth, had retired from smuggling and become the Count of Rainwood.

Then becoming Stannis's top confidant and now, after national stabilization, becoming the highly profitable customs supervisor.

The name 'Smuggler Davos' gradually faded, even 'Onion Knight' became an admired title in Westeros.

Davos, through reforming and choosing the righteous path, essentially guaranteed that within a few years, the name 'Onion Knight' would be no longer mentioned disparagingly.

Even when his son inherits his business, House Seaworth will become a true noble family, not 'the son of a smuggler.'

With such a vivid precedent, his friend transformed into a noble, so Salador Saan was also gradually tempted to ally with a powerful, stable force, to change himself and alter the fate of his descendants.

His age now compelled such considerations.

Hence, when the governors' council of Lys approached Salador Saan, he readily agreed.

The governors' council of Lys hoped he would return to Meereen as a wandering Meereenese and become a spokesman for Lys's interests. In return, Lys would support him to become the governor of Meereen. Salador, without hesitation, agreed outright.

However, upon arriving in Meereen, Salador discovered that everything was not as promised by the Lysene.

Firstly, he wasn't the sole authority here. There were also Mors, the governor representing Valyrian interests, and Orton Adris of Tyrosh.

Moreover, he didn't have free reign in Meereen, everywhere being constrained by the Lysene.

The other two governors would consistently undermine him, both overtly and covertly. And while Salador, the pirate, was well-versed in battle, capable of killing when swords were drawn, he was utterly unskilled in the political and commercial arenas of soft, underhanded tactics.

And even though he led a battle-hardened pirate fleet, he couldn't easily kill those two.

Because Governor Mors and Orton Adris also had the Tiger-cloaked soldiers of Valyria and the Unsullied of Tyrosh guarding them, and even if he killed them, Salador Saan couldn't defend Meereen on his own.

Because the Lysene would not allow him to act, it would provoke the enmity of Valyria and Tyrosh towards Lys, possibly igniting a war.

Lys was not capable of confronting these two formidable enemies simultaneously. Therefore, if Salador Saan acted to eliminate the other two Meereen governors, it might well provoke a joint siege from the armies of Valyria, Lys, and Tyrosh.

Hence, though ostensibly living a life of unlimited splendor, with a horde of brothers guarding him whenever he stepped out, Salador's days in Meereen were constantly stifling, until the arrival of the emissary from the Iron Throne and two thousand elite naval soldiers stationed in the port.

Salador, unable to discuss these details with Asha during the day due to the numerous spies of the other two around him, changed into night attire and infiltrated Mors's mansion himself at night.

Governor Mors's own room was heavily defended, impervious to Salador's infiltration, but the quarters where the emissary of the Empire resided were on the mansion's periphery and only guarded by her own people, allowing Salador to sneak in.

"I am willing to conquer Meereen for Your Majesty and have only one condition: to be appointed as the governor of Meereen."

Salador Saan continued.

"Of course, if Your Majesty is concerned about face and does not wish to acquire Meereen, I am willing to become the Empire's representative of interests, to deliver benefits to the Empire, forever swearing allegiance to Your Majesty."

Simply put, Salador now wished to seize Meereen and become the 'Prince of Meereen.' He had a pirate fleet capable of waging war, potentially having the capability to act, but lacked someone to back him from behind.

He didn't need the Empire's navy to help him attack the guards of the other two governors; their mere standing by without intervening would be enough.

Moreover, if Viserys wished to acquire Meereen, it would become part of the Empire's territory.

And if Viserys considered international reputation, then Salador would, like before, become the Empire's representative in Meereen, delivering substantial benefits to the Iron Throne.

Who doesn't like gold?

Effectively, Meereen would still belong to Viserys, just nominally independent and autonomous.

Meanwhile, Asha Greyjoy, sitting by the window with her legs crossed, fell into contemplation upon hearing his words.

Chapter 656: Seeking Approval

Pirate Governor Salladhor Saan sought the support of the Iron Throne, yet this was a matter Asha could not decide on her own and required consulting with Viserys.

Fortunately, the fleet wasn't too far from King's Landing at present, merely separated by the Narrow Sea.

If the fleet voyaged to more distant locations, such as Volantis, the Summer Isles, along the Demon Road to Mantarys, or the Slaver's Bay, all matters would fall to Asha to decide independently.

Moreover, upon reaching the ends of the earth, the influence of the Iron Throne would diminish to its weakest, unlike with the trading city-states, who regarded the colossal empire with trepidation.

The Great Masters of the Slaver's Bay, benevolent or otherwise, may not respect an empire miles away, knowing that even if they offend them, the empire would not dispatch a mighty army across vast distances to conquer the Slaver's Bay, as the cost would outweigh the benefits.

If the Iron Throne truly waged such a war, perhaps the extensive consumption and cost could drag down the entire nation.

After a period of silence, Asha expressed the need to seek the Iron Throne's counsel. Pirate Governor Salladhor Saan showed understanding, as this was a significant matter, naturally not one an 'envoy' could agree to hastily.

Subsequently, the Pirate Governor quietly departed from the residence of Governor Mors, as if he had never been there.

Asha, seated on her bed, pondered for a moment before calling for men to drag away and awaken the Ironborn brother at the door.

He had indeed been knocked unconscious by Salladhor Saan suddenly jumping down from the eaves, but was otherwise unharmed. However, the Ironborn who had followed Asha into the city of Meereen were both shocked and furious.

"Who did this?"

They had not expected someone to silently approach their 'princess', but fortunately, Asha was unharmed.

These Ironborn, once loyal to Asha's father, King Balon Greyjoy, still regarded Asha as their princess and Theon as their prince.

Because before the Iron Islands were attacked by the White Walkers, Balon Greyjoy had once again donned the driftwood crown and declared himself king on the Iron Islands.

But regrettably, King Balon did not have the opportunity to complete his mission, restore the 'Old Way', invade the Green Lands, and was assaulted on Pyke Island by White Walkers arriving by boat.

He once sent his younger brother Victarion to Pyke Island to ascertain the truth, but Victarion never returned and was presumed dead.

Subsequently, the White Walkers invaded Pyke, nearly wiping out the Ironborn. Only a few, under Asha's leadership, desperately fought their way out, escaping by ship.

However, facing the astonished and angry Ironborn, Asha remained calm. After contemplating for a moment, she told all her trusted Ironborn not to publicize the matter, acting as if nothing had happened.

The next morning, Asha Greyjoy went as usual to the newly constructed governor's mansion in Meereen.

Built on the ruins of an old palace, the entire city transitioned from old to new, enchantingly realistic, with shattered ruins and emerging structures blending together. Standing on the street, both scenes could be captured in one's gaze.

In Meereen's market, she purchased the locally distinctive 'Meereen Eye', a single-lens telescope, a treasure coveted by every sailor. The higher the quality, the more precious it was, and Asha was no exception.

Especially since her fleet would next need to navigate around the tempestuous area of the Smoking Sea, beyond the Summer Isles, naturally requiring good tools for assistance.

Meereen produced a variety of lace, carvings, screens, paintings, and carpets, massively exported to external city-states. Even the excellent Meereenese glass could match the price of spices from the east. These items, thought to have disappeared with Meereen's destruction, had surprisingly flourished again.

After officially visiting the three governors of Meereen and leaving the governor's mansion, Asha went to the market.

Meanwhile, a fast horse carried her handwritten letter to Pentos.

Pentos also had a Prince's Palace, which once belonged to the ragged prince.

However, the ragged prince, seeking independence in a rebellion years ago, was unaware that he had long been targeted by the internal affairs operatives and was killed on the street as soon as he stepped out of the Prince's Palace.

Since then, the Prince's Palace had been idle, ultimately becoming the office of the 'Iron-faced' Pentos governor, Bessie Joyce.

Days later, Asha Greyjoy's secret letter was delivered to Pentos. Her messenger, led by the guard, entered the Prince's Palace.

"Commander."

The guards of the Prince's Palace were all professional soldiers, the personal guards of the First Legion Commander. Bessie, a humble person who rarely ventured out, was seldom seen by others.

Step, step

Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. As the Ironborn messenger entered the gloomy hall, he saw a man seated on the throne.

"Huh"

He involuntarily held his breath, then took a deep one.

Because the other's aura was too strong, making him somewhat timid.

The first thing he saw when he entered the hall was a cold iron face staring directly at him.

And sunlight from the windows on both sides of the hall cast oblique light on the floor and pillars. The sturdy man sitting on the throne wore a cold iron mask, and the eyes beneath the mask were not very clear due to the light.

"What is it?"

The hall was completely empty, with only the man in the iron mask sitting on the throne. Then, a calm voice came from beneath the iron mask.

His voice did not become hoarse due to inhaling too much smoke, as rumored, but was surprisingly pleasant.

"Sir."

This Ironborn, who appeared rebellious with his chest bared, became much more subdued in front of Bessie.

He bowed deeply, then took out the handwritten letter from the Princess of the Iron Islands and gave it to the guard beside him to pass on.

However, after Bessie had read Asha Greyjoy's handwritten letter, he placed the paper back on the armrest beside him, his expression unreadable behind the cold iron mask.

"Leave."

"Sir?"

The messenger Ironborn was slightly puzzled, as he did not know what was written in the letter.

But since this mysterious governor, who didn't even show his face, ordered them to leave, the Ironborn naturally dared not stay, only able to bow again and leave.

And the Commander's Guard on the other side, upon hearing Bessie's command, did not hesitate to retreat and pushed open the hall door to exit.

Chapter 657: Tacit Approval

In the wake of everyone's departure from the Prince's Grand Hall, the man, now seated alone upon the throne, slowly lifted his right hand.

Due to severe burn injuries from the past, Bèixī rarely exposed his skin to outsiders, regardless of whether it was winter or summer. Maintaining this practice for a long while, his face was perpetually veiled by an iron mask, never once removed. Few remembered his appearance, and his clothing was always thick, not revealing an inch of his skin.

At this moment, his hand emerged from the wide sleeve of his robe, surprisingly pure and flawless like white jade, without a trace of burn scars, and none of the former charred blackness.

Following, a black mist gently rose from the palm of his hand.

He couldn't see the black mist harbored within himself, yet he could stimulate them to surface. He knew this was the source of his power, also the seed once bestowed upon him by His Majesty.

Possessing this 'seed' allowed it to take root and gradually grow robustly.

Across the Narrow Sea in Pentos, it was afternoon, but within the Red Keep, Viserys had just finished lunch.

After the family meal, Arya, holding their daughter Diana, went for a siesta. Children, currently in their growing phase, had no concept of day and night, sleeping whenever they wished.

After lunch, Daenerys ran out to play with her best friend Missandei; they were to attend a class together in the academy in the afternoon.

Daenerys was interested in medicine, learning medical knowledge with Samwell Tarly from Archmaester Ambrose, while Missandei was more interested in the humanities.

Her linguistic talent was high, mainly attributed to excellent memory—able to remember much of what she read. Viserys could discern that Missandei's mental strength was indeed inherently stronger than most, perhaps a unique talent she was born with.

Had she grown up in Westeros, she might have been considered an alternative to Bran Stark as a three-eyed raven.

However, Bran came from the mystical Stark family lineage; he was a warg. All Stark family members were wargs, but there were differences based on mental strength. Perhaps Bran still had an advantage over Missandei.

The girl from Naath chose to study economics, perhaps because poverty in her early years had frightened her. Even though Missandei lived in the Red Keep as Daenerys's handmaid, she was very frugal, feeling that wasting anything was a sin.

Her greatest dream was to become wealthy, then benefit her hometown, making the entire Naath prosperous instead of being oppressed and enslaved daily. Therefore, she chose the school of economics.

Fortunately, the schools of medicine, economics, and theology were not far apart, all located in the central position of King's Landing, near the Great Sept of Baelor.

The large circular plaza had several main roads of King's Landing, leading directly to various major places in the city.

Silent Sister Street led to the Dragonpit, now the military academy, while the central main road northwest led to King's Landing's primary scattered market, Cobbler's Square. The southeastern central main road led to Aegon's High Hill, the Westerosi royal palace, and the main concentration of nobility in King's Landing, also called 'King's Mountain' by the people.

After silver-haired beauty Daenerys left, only Viserys and Renys were left chatting in the Red Keep's dining room.

"By the way, Viserys,"

Renys was just about to say something, but at this moment, the silver-haired young man's eyes flickered slightly.

"Bèixī?"

Because the 'seed' was implanted in Bèixī, Viserys, as the 'source,' could communicate with him directly through the black mist.

But Bèixī rarely contacted him directly using this method; unless it was a big issue, Bèixī wouldn't use it for casual conversation.

"Your Majesty."

On the other side of the Narrow Sea, the iron-faced man sitting on the throne in the Pentos Prince's palace gently closed his eyes.

This was a kind of telepathic communication; he could express whatever he wanted directly, similar to the connection between Viserys and his companion Balerion.

Dragonriders and their dragons all had a connection, but the link between Viserys and Balerion was far stronger than that of ordinary dragonriders.

The two of them were not only master and servant but also battle companions and friends.

Viserys could feel the fluctuations in Balerion's status, and Balerion could also sense Viserys's emotions.

After Bèixī expressed everything he wanted to say, Viserys fell into a moment of contemplation.

"The Pirate Governor?"

"Salladhor Saan?"

He seemed to have some impression of this man, who claimed to be a friend of the 'Onion Knight' Davos Seaworth, which reminded Viserys even more of his identity.

This pirate governor seemed to be a character who appeared in the original trajectory, helping Stannis attack King's Landing, hoping to get a hefty bonus and title. However, Stannis was defeated in the Battle of Blackwater Bay.

Although he was later ennobled as 'Lord of Blackwater,' Salladhor Saan never received Stannis's reward and eventually left him, disheartened.

However, in the current trajectory, Viserys's appearance was not just a butterfly flapping its wings, bringing about a tornado.

His emergence almost caused a huge shock to the entire world, from the Bone Mountains to the Sunset Sea, and might even affect the world's end east of the Bone Mountains.

The reappearance of dragons brought the Targaryen family back to the Iron Throne, the decline of the Free Cities, the rise of a prosperous great nation in the West, and a Khal among the Dothraki unifying all the Khals. Now, for some unknown reason, all the grassland knights were heading east.

Therefore, a small pirate influenced by Viserys to change his original destiny to become a so-called governor was naturally unsurprising.

"Tell this Pirate Governor that the Iron Throne will not provide him any support."

"Let him deal with the rest himself."

Viserys contemplated for a moment, and the attitude he gave could be considered tacit approval, but he would not intervene directly.

A Pentos, destroyed and then rebuilt, was not worth him sending troops to invade. That would alert the surrounding Free Cities.

Although the Free Cities are now declining and have lost their position as the world's leader in the West, after all, a camel starved to death is bigger than a horse. Viserys did not want to add trouble when the North and Dorne were not completely stabilized.

After all, a bigger enemy has not yet appeared.

The five-year period prophesied by Melisandre was not long or short. After the Night King recuperated, the next step would inevitably cause greater turmoil to sweep across the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys has never forgotten that he still has such an enemy waiting for him.

Chapter 658: Tracking the White Walkers

"Caw—"

A crow, perched on a tree branch, gazed down at a black-clad knight below, tilted its head, and emitted a shrill call. Then, flapping its wings, it soared into the sky.

Since reclaiming Winterfell, the Night's Watch, akin to a marauding force, progressively retook other castles and villages in the North, even the final holdfast of Hearth's Home. Commander Jeor Mormont of the Night's Watch directed his troops, reclaiming most of the lost territory in the North. However, before he could retake his homeland of Bear Island in the Bay of Ice, he hastened to the imposing Wall.

For the men of the Night's Watch, the Wall was home. Since Jeor Mormont swore his vows upon the weirwood, he ceased to be the Lord of Bear Island and became Commander of the Night's Watch, where duty eclipsed personal sentiment.

Still, the Wall stood grandly upon the land, approximately three hundred miles long and seven hundred feet high, its continuous stretch obscuring half the sky.

The black-clad knight, astride his horse on a hillock, gazing upon the distant Wall amidst the snowy winds, was Eddard Stark. The sight was awe-inspiring, and the new recruits of the Night's Watch, upon witnessing such a spectacle, couldn't help but whisper amongst themselves, a reverence rising from their very souls.

However, the collapsed section, resultant from the Wildlings blowing the Horn of Winter, was conspicuously evident. Like a dam with a gaping hole, even the sturdiest defense was futile. Wildlings and White Walkers entered through this breach, wreaking havoc upon the lands of Westeros.

"Seeing it again, I long to slay the Wildlings anew!"

"Stannis acted too hastily. The King of the Wildlings should have repented for his horrific sins before execution."

Eddard Stark, his wolf-pelt cloak billowing in the brisk wind, gazed at the partially crumbled Wall and spoke, his voice raspy.

Mance Rayder, King of the Free Folk, had collapsed the Wall by sounding the Horn of Winter, directly enabling the White Walkers to cross the Wall and invade the Seven Kingdoms.

The Great Fleeing of the North ensued, with countless individuals abandoning their homes and many perishing on the arduous journey.

Their wives, husbands, children, and parents - after perishing from cold and hunger, their bodies were not buried but collectively burned, preventing any possibility of resurrection as foes in the icy winds.

Beside Eddard, his brother Benjen, also on horseback, turned to look at him, then shook his head silently, not responding.

Benjen wanted to say that the Wildlings did what they did to survive. If Mance hadn't blown the Horn of Winter and the Wall hadn't opened, his people would have perished at the hands of the White Walkers.

At the end of the day, it was Robert's responsibility. He insisted that they bend the knee before crossing the Wall. However, the Free Folk, holding the artifact that could breach the Wall, stubbornly refused to kneel.

But if they had been allowed through, the Wildlings, who did not farm or herd and lived by raiding, would have wreaked havoc upon the citizens of the Seven Kingdoms. Robert, as the king, was justified in protecting his subjects by denying the Wildlings entry.

Nevertheless, discussing this now was pointless; what was done was done. Robert was long gone, and his grave was overgrown with grass. There was no need to argue with his brother over such trivial matters.

Although Benjen loathed the Wildlings for killing many of his brethren, he also knew that the Wildlings were people too. Just that, before the Wall was built, their ancestors had chosen to live on the other side, thus being isolated.

But how could the noble and honor-bound Eddard Stark understand how the Wildlings lived?

"When I reach Castle Black, I will go there."

"To bring Lyanna back."

Benjen didn't continue his brother's train of thought. He held the reins in one hand, turned his head, and spoke lightly.

However, Benjen's words made Eddard's heart slightly heavy. He looked at his younger brother, his gray eyes meeting Benjen's, and spoke seriously.

"Benjen."

Since the last time in the dungeons of Winterfell, Eddard told Benjen that once he reached the Wall, he intended to request permission from Commander Mormont to venture beyond the Wall, alone, to track the White Walkers and find his sister.

But Eddard's decision was met with strong opposition from Benjen.

Eddard could not possibly be more familiar with life beyond the Wall or have more experience than him. Furthermore, while Eddard donned black, he was once the Lord of Winterfell. He had his wife, Robb, Sansa, Jon, Arya, and Bran. But Benjen, solitary and unbound, was unencumbered.

He was more suited for this perilous venture.

Therefore, Benjen vehemently opposed Eddard going alone and was willing to go in his brother's stead.

After all, he also had a duty to find Lyanna, his sister.

In the end, between the Stark brothers, Benjen's arguments prevailed.

Perhaps, deep down, Eddard couldn't completely abandon his wife and children and live solely for himself.

The Stark brothers, inheriting the straightforward nature of the North, were devoid of pretense. Benjen was willing to go in place of his brother, and Eddard was not posturing.

"I owe a life, Benjen."

Then the middle-aged man with dark brown hair spoke earnestly, causing Benjen's smile to gradually fade.

He looked at Eddard, his gaze intense, and promised solemnly.

"I will return alive, brother."

"And I will bring back Lyanna."

Soldiers of the Night's Watch, their numbers stretching beyond sight, entered the long-collapsed Castle Black. The primary task awaiting the watch was to repair the Wall.

Although, according to legend, the Wall was interwoven with spells and magic to fortify it against mystical entities, such as the White Walkers, from a military perspective, such a gaping breach could not be left unattended. It must be repaired to the best of their abilities.

And so, the Stark brothers also followed the troop into the crumbling Castle Black.

After resting for a night and making ample preparations, Benjen, with Commander Mormont's permission, departed the next morning without bidding anyone farewell. He did not inform his brother of his departure time.

Alone, with horse and sword, his elongated shadow submerged into the snowstorm, heading towards the unknowable north.

Chapter 659: The Death of Ban Yang

Beyond the wall, the climate was even harsher than south of it, with endless, blinding snowfall and a chilling wind that seemed to pierce through garments.

The North, under the advancement of the Night's Watch, had been largely reclaimed. And with the march of human soldiers, the bitter cold that enveloped the entire northern lands seemed to slowly recede.

This was the only stroke of luck amongst ten thousand misfortunes.

Among the human soldiers, some sang praises of the old gods' deeds; some believed that the Seven had triumphed over the White Walkers. A minority, who had converted to worshipping the Lord of Light, believed that light had conquered darkness. They were warriors of the Lord of Light, and the strange gods of the North had begun to fear their iron will.

However, there were also a few who believed in man's victory over destiny. Where did the gods come from? Humanity had repelled the White Walkers through countless soldiers sacrificing their lives, and only when the entire nation was unified, when all of humanity was united, could they ultimately defeat the White Walkers.

Everyone had their own theories, but the fact that the North was gradually warming was undeniable. Even now, some Northerners, homesick, began their journey back.

However, all of this had nothing to do with the bitter cold north of the Wall.

Here, winter persisted all year round, regardless of season. The Wall blocked the cold winds from traveling south but also forever trapped winter here.

Ban Yang, having left the Wall to enter the land beyond alone, rode a lean black and yellow war horse, cloaked in black, with a long sword at his waist, was now trudging through the boundless snow.

He planned to first reach Castle Craster to rest for the night, and then set off for Fist of the First Men and other places the next day.

Craster, a wildling, cooperated tacitly with the Night's Watch. He hosted the Night's Watch and, in turn, they allowed him to reside in the Haunted Forest without being expelled.

However, unfortunately, the snowstorm beyond the Wall was too severe today. Even the war horse struggled, its hooves slipping several times, nearly throwing Ban Yang off.

"Damn it!"

With no other option, Ban Yang was forced to change his plan, turning towards the nearest village of Whitetree.

It was the closest Free Folk village north of the Wall. Like Craster, they were wildlings who had not openly opposed the Night's Watch and thus were allowed to live in the Haunted Forest.

Ban Yang, atop his lean black and yellow horse, disappeared into the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to him, a shaky shadow had spotted him from behind, quietly following him northeast.

Whitetree was the closest village north of the Wall. Although the current snowstorm was somewhat severe, Ban Yang still managed to get there in half a day.

The snowstorm was now too strong; he had to find an appropriate place to stay and wait it out, or he would freeze to death in the wilderness before he could find any trace of Lyanna.

Even though Ban Yang was experienced in living beyond the Wall, being a veteran of the Night's Watch, precisely because of this, he knew very well that such a snowstorm without shelter would inevitably result in death.

Whitetree was a Free Folk village, but now, its inhabitants had all vanished.

Ban Yang vaguely remembered that when King Robert visited the Wall, several Free Folk villages had been exterminated, and even the first White Walker was killed. But he forgot whether the villagers of Whitetree were killed by the allied soldiers, other wildling tribes, or the White Walkers.

However, one outcome was certain: they were all dead, regardless of who killed them. And they all shared a common fate, becoming those "blue-eyed enemies."

Whitetree was not large, consisting of four single houses surrounding a sheep pen and a well. The houses were made of stone, so they wouldn't be blown down by the wind, and the windows were covered with animal pelts to keep warm.

But now, the windows of Whitetree were all broken, and one house had even collapsed, accumulating thick snow.

In the middle of the village stood a giant weirwood tree. Its branches were pale, devoid of leaves, and the tree trunk bore a terrifying face, its mouth large enough to swallow an entire sheep.

"This weirwood is dead."

Ban Yang rode his lean horse into Whitetree, looking up at the giant weirwood in front of him from atop his mount.

He could tell at a glance that this weirwood had lost all its vitality. An ominous premonition quietly rose in his heart, because weirwoods were scattered throughout the North and beyond the Wall, counted among the plants most able to resist the severe cold.

"Did it freeze to death?"

"Or was there another reason?"

Snow covered Ban Yang's head, and the gloom in his heart grew deeper, but he had no time to think about it now and was about to dismount.

However, at this moment, the attack of the wights came very suddenly.

"Heh—"

A wight, with blue eyes and tattered body, seemed to appear out of nowhere, suddenly emitting a terrifying roar, then burst out from behind a tree, charging directly at Ban Yang.

The snowstorm concealed its footsteps, and the cold air obliterated its stench.

However, suddenly attacked, Ban Yang, Chief Ranger of the Night's Watch, naturally reacted quickly.

Crack—

Ban Yang fell from the horse, wielding his sword and, with a backhand strike, severed the wight's arm that reached toward him.

But at this moment, the quiet Whitetree seemed to suddenly come alive. The noise of the fight abruptly attracted more wights.

They howled shrilly, as if mad, and lunged at Ban Yang.

The Chief Ranger's face tensed, and he waved his sword, continuously slaughtering the surrounding wights.

Plop—

However, unfortunately, he was ultimately outnumbered. He toppled several wights but was jumped from behind by one with the appearance of a woman, who leapt onto his back.

The wight's legs clamped around Ban Yang's body, and with a gaping mouth, half its cheek rotten away revealing blackened gums, it ferociously began biting at his neck.

Ban Yang, in pain, let out a desperate growl, then threw the wight off his back, and with a swing of his sword, severed her head, which rolled far away.

However, her head was still emitting terrifying howls, and the fallen body also moved around, seemingly still searching for Ban Yang.

And the Chief Ranger of the Night's Watch, sword in one hand, the other clutching the wound on his neck, blood continuously flowing out.

"I'm going to die."

Ban Yang seemed to have sensed his future, staggering forward a few steps, but eventually, his head spun, his vision blackened, and he fell forward, collapsing in front of the lifeless, giant weirwood.

His eyes, once sharp and resolute, began to glaze over as he gazed upon the silent sentinel of the North. Blood oozed slowly from his neck, staining the pristine snow beneath him. The ominous howls and shrieks of the wights were a haunting serenade, growing fainter as he slipped towards the abyss.

Even in his last moments, Ban Yang thought of the Wall, of the brothers he left behind, and the warning he would never be able to deliver. He thought of the North, now warming, unbeknownst to the terror that lingered just beyond their sight.

The wights, their eyes ablaze with an unnatural, eerie blue, circled around him, observing with a hollow, haunting gaze. The one he had decapitated crawled, torso and head separated, still driven by some unholy will.

Ban Yang, in his dying breaths, whispered prayers to the Old Gods and the New, his voice barely a quiver in the endless, icy expanse of the North.

In the shadow of the dead weirwood, his life force ebbed away, relinquishing him to the cold, and his form crumbled into the snow, becoming one with the white wasteland.

The wights lingered for a moment, then, with a collective, guttural growl, they retreated into the whiteness from whence they came, leaving behind the stillness, broken only by the gentle rustle of the wind through the lifeless branches above.

Ban Yang's body lay there, a mere speck in the vast, frozen tundra beyond the Wall, his story, his warning, swallowed by the unrelenting snowstorm.

In the South, the tales of warming, of rebirth, continued, blissfully ignorant of the horror that transpired in the desolation of the North, and the storm that lingered on their horizon.

And so, amidst the howling winds and the ceaseless snowfall, Ban Yang's tale came to a bitter, silent end.

Chapter 660: The Count of Harrenhal

"Ramsay Snow, through years of diligent service, is hereby granted the name Bolton and the dominion of Harrenhal as his fief."

"Ramsay Bolton is ennobled as the Count of Harrenhal."

After stabilizing his reign upon the Iron Throne, Viserys conferred titles upon a great many heroes and meritorious officials who had followed him in his conquest. However, one man had yet to be honored in such a way.

That man was Ramsay, the leader of the Internal Affairs Department.

One reason was the unique circumstances of Ramsay's birth. He was a bastard from the North, and in this era, illegitimate children were regarded with disdain, often overlooked and despised.

Another reason was Ramsay's notorious reputation. He was the dark aspect beneath Viserys' luminous reign, handling unsavory tasks for the royal family and generally operating behind the scenes.

Moreover, he kept a watchful eye over all the significant ministers and nobles under the Iron Throne. Rumors circulated within King's Landing; when a certain noble secretly liaised with his mistress, the lady cried out a few times that night. Though the nobleman himself was unaware of this detail, Ramsay knew it all too well.

No one wanted to befriend such a man, yet Ramsay seemed to revel in this.

He understood his position in Viserys' heart. No matter how many despised him, as long as Viserys did not, he would never lose his power.

As long as he remained useful, Viserys would not forsake him. Thus, he did not need to make friends deliberately; doing so would only place his head beneath the greatsword of the royal executioner.

Consequently, Ramsay's reputation amongst the noble circles was notably poor. Restoring Ramsay's surname and ennobling him faced significant opposition.

Ramsay also had a brother named Domeric Bolton, the current Count of Dreadfort, but the relationship between the two was not particularly amicable.

Domeric simply found his brother's personality too erratic, and his gaze somewhat unsettling.

The young Count of Dreadfort could not have imagined that Ramsay once sought to kill him.

Years ago, Ramsay had covertly dispatched assassins to murder their father, the previous Count of Dreadfort, Roose Bolton, on the chaotic battlefield.

The killer, sent by Ramsay, whispered in Roose Bolton's ear, "Domeric Bolton will soon join you."

However, Ramsay did not keep his word.

The plot to assassinate his father leaked and was brought to Viserys' attention. Viserys once made him choose between a dagger and poison.

Ramsay, weeping and sniffling, begged Viserys for his life, all illusions of power and lofty feelings dissipating.

At that time, Ramsay thought he possessed real power, believing he could surveil anyone he wished. Ramsay, by nature, was like a wild dog that could never be fully tamed; thus, once fed, he gradually grew arrogant.

However, Viserys' timely chastisement, like a bucket of cold water, extinguished all of Ramsay's delusions.

He realized that while he surveilled everyone, he too was being watched. He was a dog from beginning to end, never holding true power.

After that punishment, Ramsay was spared, but he faced a brutal penalty. For half a year, he did not appear publicly, vanishing from everyone's sight.

And since then, Ramsay never again harbored intentions against his brother Domeric.

Hence, the good-natured Count of Dreadfort, disappointed in his brother and hoping to persuade him to turn away from evil, never imagined that Ramsay was the murderer of their father, and that he himself had once been on the brink of death.

Harrenhal was a somewhat suitable destination for Ramsay. Although he had made mistakes, Viserys did not forget the numerous merits he had also accumulated, even ranking him among the top five contributors to recapturing the Iron Throne.

Harrenhal, located in the Riverlands on the northern shore of the Gods Eye, briefly served as the capital of the Riverlands. The castle certainly possessed the qualifications, being the largest in all of Westeros.

However, due to historical reasons, numerous tragedies have occurred in Harrenhal, giving it an ominous reputation.

But while others feared these tales, Ramsay did not. In the eyes of many criminals he had interrogated, he was the most terrifying demon in the human world.

He himself was a demon; why should he fear ghosts?

Therefore, Ramsay, who rarely appeared in public, knelt on the stone steps before the Iron Throne in the throne room. His black cloak draped on the ground, and a look of joy appeared on his pale cheeks. Then, he heavily kowtowed several times.

"Thank Your Majesty!"

Most people kneel on one knee before the king, including the Kingsguard, senior ministers, and even ordinary nobles.

However, Ramsay was different. When facing Viserys, he always knelt on both knees, wagging his tail, displaying devout loyalty.

"Count of Harrenhal!"

The many nobles in the throne room, including senior members of the Small Council, all fell silent.

"Count of Harrenhal."

"Lord Ramsay Bolton."

Afterward, someone took the lead, and sparse applause sounded in the hall, providing begrudging respect.

From this, it was clear how few 'friends' Ramsay, despite his high position, had in the court. However, Ramsay didn't mind and subsequently withdrew.

After the Seven Kingdoms were pacified, the new rule of the Iron Throne was to hold the Small Council once a week, and if there were special important matters, the senior officials of the Small Council would be gathered temporarily. The Small Council mainly discussed the specific affairs of the state.

And the court meeting in the throne room was held once every half month, gathering prominent nobles, merchants, and representatives of various industries in King's Landing.

The court meeting in the throne room was mainly to go through standardized procedures; actually, the content to be discussed in the court had been discussed in the Small Council in advance.

Including the ennoblement of Ramsay as the Count of Harrenhal today, it was discussed in advance. Choosing from the idle castles all over the Seven Kingdoms, only Harrenhal was in line with Ramsay's merits and status, so it was ennobled to him.

After ennobling Ramsay Bolton, next were other matters. Now that the Hand of the King, Jon Connington, is leading an expedition to Dorne, the most influential person in the Small Council of King's Landing is that Prince of Dorne.

This matter was not concealed and had been rumored a few days ago, so many informed people cast their eyes on Oberyn, the Minister of Justice.

"Your Majesty."

Then, the Prince of Dorne did not disappoint everyone's expectations. He wore a sandy-yellow robe, with a golden sun emblem on both shoulders, and stepped out of the sequence of ministers and spoke.

"The North has been recovered, and the country has reached an unprecedented prosperity. We should establish a new name for the country."

Chapter 661: The Heir of Valyria

The Hand of the King, Jon Connington, had departed for an expedition to Dorne, leaving King's Landing. Oberyn, the Minister of Justice, as the principal among the ministers, took the initiative to make a proposal, naturally causing many uninformed nobles in attendance to exchange glances.

The concept of the Seven Kingdoms was deeply ingrained in the hearts of the people, as this political system had maintained itself for three hundred years, spanning over a dozen generations.

Aegon I, as the Conqueror, had subjugated six of the major kingdoms of Westeros with his three dragons, and the seventh kingdom, Dorne, was later incorporated into the Iron Throne through a marriage alliance.

Thus, people were familiar with the concept of the Seven Kingdoms, recognizing the Iron Throne as a symbol of royal authority. However, after the Conquest, Aegon did not entirely erase the vestiges of the former Seven Kingdoms, even coexisting with the nobles of the erstwhile kingdoms.

Should one put themselves in Aegon's shoes at that time, perhaps they could understand the decisions made by the Conqueror.

For before him, no one had united the whole of Westeros or the Seven Kingdoms, hence the concept of a unified kingdom was not deeply embedded in people's minds.

The Kingdom of the Riverlands despised the Kingdom of the Rock, the Storm Kingdom despised the Riverlands, and the King in the North gazed down upon the world from Winterfell. The populace of each kingdom viewed themselves as distinct from the others, devoid of a unified concept.

The Conqueror Aegon faced a process of creating unity from nothing, a process that needed time to settle.

If he wanted to unify the Seven Kingdoms and secure his realm, perhaps he had to make such a choice, to compromise with the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms.

The king and the nobility jointly governed the nation, in exchange for the cooperation and submission of the former Seven Kingdoms' nobility to the new royal authority.

Otherwise, if Aegon had been rigid, proclaiming "The state is mine," then the situation he faced would become extremely complicated. He could stabilize the nation through force in the short term, but it would inevitably lead to widespread rebellion and dissent in the future.

Conversely, Viserys' situation was different from Aegon's, for with Aegon's prior unification, the concept of a united Seven Kingdoms was now deeply rooted in the hearts of the people.

Including the common folk, everyone recognized the benefits brought about by unification: the elimination of war, the unity of more people, national peace, and a stable livelihood.

With Aegon as a precedent, both the people and the nobility of Westeros now regarded unification as a necessary condition.

As such, when Viserys occupied the Riverlands and King's Landing, even though he was surrounded by the remnants of the Baratheon dynasty, both sides tacitly ceased hostilities temporarily, yet never proposed a truce.

Because both sides could not possibly divide in their mindset and concept, it was inevitable that one side would annex the other.

Either Viserys would exterminate them, or they would exterminate Viserys.

Of course, if Viserys, like Aegon, had chosen to compromise at that time, relinquishing the blade aimed at the power of the nobility, he might have achieved national unity in an instant.

However, that would be another cycle, re-tracing the path Aegon had walked.

Viserys did not make such a choice but chose to fight to the death against the old major nobility.

Inch by inch, bit by bit, he broke their spines, making them kneel on the ground begging for mercy, or simply, like the Hightower family, not even giving them a chance to beg, erasing them from this world completely.

Thus, it is not to say that Aegon was short-sighted, but that Viserys was in a much more mature condition than he was.

And now, Oberyn's sudden proposal, in fact, had already been discussed in the royal council.

This matter was discussed several months ago before Jon Connington left King's Landing. It was a major issue, and most of the royal council members, aside from a few old-fashioned ones like the Minister of Agriculture, Alester Florent, were capable people, with extremely open and active minds.

Viserys's royal council, including governors from all regions, could be said to be filled with talents.

Breaking the backbone of traditional nobility, weakening the power of traditional nobility, consolidating royal power, and next was to weaken the concept of the Seven Kingdoms and consolidate the concept of the entire nation.

The first person to propose this idea was Varys, the Minister of Intelligence, who strongly advocated that the concept of the 'Seven Kingdoms' should not be used in official documents, including in terms.

Instead, it should be replaced with phrases like 'King of Westeros', emphasizing unified vocabulary.

However, Varys's initial view was not widely accepted, mainly due to the change in thinking and habit, changing a habit sometimes needs a generation's time.

And now, hearing Oberyn's proposal, all the noisy voices in the throne room disappeared. Although Oberyn, like Ramsay, was not very popular, Oberyn's open power was still strong, and no one dared to offend this Minister of Justice who held military power.

"Valyria!"

Then, Oberyn, who was the first to propose this idea, spoke.

"As far as humans have recorded history, Valyria is the greatest country."

"And the Targaryen family originated in Valyria, being the most potent heir of the Freehold."

"Therefore, I propose that Your Majesty claim the ancient empire and rebuild Valyria!"

Chapter 662: The Valyrian Emperor

"Rebuild Valyria?"

"Restore the ancient empire?"

Oberyn's words silenced the chaotic throne room so completely that one could hear a pin drop.

Only a few seconds of silence passed before it erupted, as if a bomb had gone off.

Every noble present knew of Valyria's fame, even those with the least knowledge.

It was the greatest empire ever established by humanity, with the mightiest armies on land and in the sky, legions of slaves numbering in the hundreds of thousands, and hundreds of dragons under their command.

When they existed, they enslaved the whole world, their influence even reaching a distant eastern kingdom where people had heard of the Freehold of Valyria.

They audaciously proclaimed themselves the 'kingdom that could challenge the gods.'

"My gods."

"How can this be?"

The room was abuzz with disbelief and wonder, discussions filling the air. Among them, white-haired and bearded nobles blinked in astonishment.

"This is truly shocking."

"His Majesty's ambitions seem boundless."

Their sharp political senses and vast experience told them that this wasn't just about a title. It revealed an ambition to conquer the world behind the empire's name.

The Freehold of Valyria had been destroyed in the Doom, and now many cities and families claimed to be its successors.

For instance, Lys and Volantis.

Lys was an original Valyrian colony, never having been conquered, while Volantis was the oldest Valyrian colony, hailed as 'Valyria's eldest daughter.'

But none of these self-proclaimed 'heirs to the Freehold' had a better claim than the Targaryen family.

The Targaryens were one of Valyria's forty dragonlord families, eligible to participate in choosing the ruler of Valyria. Within its shimmering walls, these forty families, often at odds, vied for power and glory in a never-ending, treacherous, often bloody struggle.

This gave the Targaryens the strongest claim to the ancient empire. In this world, apart from the Targaryens, no one else had this right.

Meanwhile, Volantis, known as 'Valyria's eldest daughter' and 'Mistress of the Summer Sea', was merely a slave in the days of the empire.

How could slaves claim to be heirs to the Freehold?

The Targaryens were among the lords of the Valyrian Freehold. Viserys was now the world's last dragonlord, the final Dragon King.

One day, when he stakes his claim to the Freehold of Valyria, the claims of other cities would be as insignificant as dust.

"By staking our claim to Valyria, won't we face opposition from the Free Cities?"

Someone in the throne room voiced their concern.

"Opposition from the Free Cities?"

"Should we even care?"

Another retorted arrogantly.

Under the rise of the Iron Throne, the Free Cities seemed less significant. Westerosi nobles, once oppressed by the Free Cities and the Iron Bank, now sang a different tune.

"I agree!"

"His Majesty is the last Dragon King, the rightful heir to Valyria."

At that moment, the stout Grand Maester Marwyn spoke.

He was the most excited about changing the title to Valyria and asserting the Targaryens' claim to the Freehold. His extensive research on Valyria had made him deeply fascinated by the great empire.

Their king was the heir to that great empire. His bloodline was of the sacred dragonlord family, fully qualified to inherit and rebuild the grand empire.

"The Freehold of Valyria had a system where the king was elected by the forty dragonlord families. This doesn't align with our current system."

"We have one king, ruling lands from Greenstone to the Wall, from Sunspear to Castle Black, with countless citizens, a blend of various cultures and languages."

"A wise man once said that in his kingdom, a king is supreme, he is an Emperor!"

"So, I propose that His Majesty's title be changed from 'King' to 'Emperor'!"

Grand Maester Marwyn stood before the Iron Throne, addressing the gathered nobility, then turned to the young silver-haired man seated on the throne. His deep voice echoed throughout the hall.

The hall was abuzz again, but the discussion was less intense than before. The sudden claim to Valyria was a massive surprise.

However, the idea of changing Viserys's title from king to emperor was less shocking.

The power of their nation could already be termed an empire. In both the Common Tongue and High Valyrian, an emperor indeed held a higher rank than a king.

Whether they were Andals, Rhoynar, or Valyrians, the term "emperor" was understood as 'king of kings' or 'ruler of rulers.'

An emperor typically held military, political, and judicial powers, having more centralized authority than a king.

This was why the Dragon King Aerys, who escaped the Doom of Valyria, chose to proclaim himself the Valyrian Emperor instead of King.

"It has my support!"

"I agree!"

"I believe His Majesty should become Emperor."

Other councilors, who had been silent, now voiced their opinions.

The throne room of the Red Keep was the political heart of the nation. Every whisper here could turn into a storm sweeping across the country.

When the councilors voiced their opinions, it sent a clear signal. The gathered nobility, though varied in their knowledge, were no fools. They caught this signal and began chanting Viserys's name.

Chapter 663: Determination to Rebuild

Viserys' coronation as Emperor was a momentous event, but an even greater matter was his declaration of claim over Valyria.

In truth, the actual policy decision had been made earlier during a Privy Council meeting. The public court session in the throne room was merely an opportunity to broadcast a message.

The Iron Throne's claim over Valyria was bound to provoke backlash from the merchant city-states because, although each proclaimed themselves successors of the great empire, none possessed the strength to restore the Freehold of Valyria. However, Viserys did.

This was the crux of the conflict.

While everyone admired the great empire of a thousand years past and indulged in imagining the opulence of the imperial capital Valyria, the might of its army, and the spectacle of hundreds of dragons soaring, no one besides themselves likely wished to see this great empire return to the world.

Because, beyond the praises and aspirations for Valyria, there were tears of blood shed by numerous city-states and nations enslaved by it.

"Make way!"

"Clear the path!"

The trotting of horses resonated. The next morning, numerous cavalrymen, bearing official documents, hurriedly rode out of King's Landing.

Flap, flap — dozens of ravens, raised within the Red Keep and bearing messages, were released all at once, disseminating communications across every inch of the realm, from Westeros to Pentos and Andalos.

Meanwhile, in King's Landing, soldiers from the City Watch, with proclamations in hand, posted them in every street and alley, quickly attracting crowds of citizens and merchants.

"What does it say?"

"Can anyone read it?"

Although King's Landing was the capital of Westeros, literacy among the populace remained quite low. Most were illiterate, thus relying on those who could read.

"The year 295 AC, the third year of the New Calendar."

Among the crowd in Cobbler's Square, a literate young man with light golden hair, dressed in light brown leather armor and cloaked in Targaryen garb, sword hanging by his side, read aloud. His name was Kem, from Flea Bottom, once a mercenary who participated in the Golden Company's siege of King's Landing. Later, he joined the Second Legion and, after displaying valor in the conquest of the Stormlands, was knighted by Viserys himself.

Kem was one of the few non-noble knights directly knighted by the king, and he revered Viserys immensely, even regarding him as a deity. After all, how many could claim such an honor?

Kem, having been ennobled and granted a village in the Riverlands as his fief, rose from a child of Flea Bottom to the lowest rank of nobility — something he had never dared dream of as a child.

However, the times had changed. Viserys, since becoming king, had provided many opportunities for commoners, breaking the monopoly of the old nobility.

In this new era, opportunities existed every moment, even pouring down like rain, and Kem certainly did not let them pass. After a brief stint as a 'village head', he repelled several attacks from the Brotherhood without Banners, earning the approval of Lord Brecken, Master of Ships and Governor of the Riverlands. Lord Brecken summoned him to Riverrun, offering him a precious recommendation to study at the military academy in King's Landing.

Jeffrey Brecken, as one of the king's most trusted ministers, naturally knew how important Viserys considered the reform of the academies, and the military academy was of utmost concern to Viserys.

Therefore, the first batch of recommended admissions to the academy was extremely precious. If one seized this opportunity, their destiny might skyrocket, but missing it could lead to a lifetime of regret.

So, the initial batch of students who didn't take this learning opportunity seriously would not be punished, as it was their own irresponsibility toward their fate.

However, the young and capable Kem heeded Lord Brecken's advice, seized the opportunity, and studied diligently at the academy.

Starting from learning to read, the young man from Flea Bottom not only became literate but also repeatedly secured the first place in monthly exams.

"According to the Determination to Rebuild Valyria, House Targaryen declares its claim to the ancient empire, and the country's name will be changed to Valyria."

"I shall ascend as the first Emperor of Valyria, starting from this moment, until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, until the rivers run dry, and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves."

Kem, an officer of the Second Legion, cloaked in Targaryen colors, hand on his sword hilt, read the imperial edict word by word. This was written by Viserys himself and copied by court scholars, thus it was all in Viserys's first person.

The citizens of King's Landing surrounding him listened attentively. At first, they didn't understand, but eventually, they couldn't help but stir.

"Has His Majesty been crowned Emperor?"

"Is His Majesty going to rebuild Valyria?"

While the citizens of King's Landing didn't comprehend the political implications of the Iron Throne's actions, they still felt invigorated from the bottom of their hearts and couldn't help but shout Viserys's name.

Because this symbolized the prosperity of the nation. And a prosperous nation naturally avoided external invasions, allowing the citizens to live in peace and security. When facing merchants from across the Narrow Sea, they could hold their heads high and be proud.

"King Viserys!"

"His Royal Majesty!"

"No! We should now call him His Imperial Majesty!"

"The glorious and supreme Emperor of the Andals, Rhoynar, and Valyrians has ascended to the throne. Long live His Imperial Majesty!"

Proclamations were posted throughout the streets and alleys of King's Landing, and the joyous citizens flocked to the square below the Red Keep, shouting the Emperor's name towards the palace above.

However, the merchant traders traveling between Westeros and Essos, upon seeing these proclamations, couldn't help but change their expressions.

Instinctively feeling that something big was about to happen, they hurriedly returned to their lodgings to write letters to their homelands, informing them of the developments in King's Landing.

Chapter 664: The Battle of Skyreach City

The wheels of history do not halt for any single event.

As King's Landing took the historically significant step toward the Determination to Rebuild Valyria, the distant battlefields of Skyreach City in Dorne were ablaze with war.

"Charge!"

The royal army soldiers were launching a fierce assault on this 'Heaven-Adjacent City,' situated at the end of an ancient road, just past the Prince's Pass.

Skyreach City was dubbed the 'Heaven-Adjacent City' due to its elevated location, which was easily defensible but challenging to assail. Below lay a terrain of jagged strange rocks, devoid of any proper path or leveled land. Siege engines like trebuchets and battering rams could hardly be deployed, necessitating soldiers to rely on their flesh and blood, hoisting up ladders to initiate their attack on the walls.

"Charge!"

A Dornish youth named Caron, clad in lightweight leather armor and cloaked in the colors of House Connington from Griffin's Roost, led a group of archers. They unleashed a volley of arrows toward the walls of Skyreach City, suppressing the archers above.

Caron, the village's most talented hunter, saw no difference between hunting men and animals, and perhaps found humans even less agile, their movements clumsy like large brown bears.

With brown hair flowing, the young man drew his bow, eye narrowing as he aimed at a soldier of House Fowler peering from behind a merlon. Releasing his fingers, the bowstring twanged.

Thud—

The arrow, swift, accurate, and brutal, burrowed into the Fowler soldier's eye socket.

"Ahh—"

A piercing scream ensued, as the man toppled from the wall, knocking a half-ascended royal army soldier from his ladder. Both tumbled down the wall, becoming nearly lifeless upon impact.

Beneath the walls of Skyreach City lay barren, extremely hard strange rocks, some even adorned with sharp points, ensuring that a fall from the wall resulted in either death or severe injury.

After Caron, leading fifty warriors, traversed the Red Mountains, endured numerous hardships, successfully ambushed Prince's Pass, and inflicted a significant defeat upon House Fowler's soldiers, he was personally knighted by the Hand of the King, Jon Connington.

For his merits, Caron was dubbed a knight of the Stormlands, destined to possess his own land and title upon return.

Yet, at this moment, he was fighting side-by-side with his comrades, assaulting Skyreach City, avenging his father, mother, and brother.

"Die!"

The brown-haired youth, taking cover behind a boulder, plucked another arrow from his quiver. Drawing the bow and releasing the arrow, he claimed another Fowler soldier's life with an arrow fueled by vengeful fury.

"Die—"

Caron's archery skills were astonishing. His arrows, brimming with vengeful wrath, cleansed with the blood of his enemies.

The scene of war was intensely fervent. Not long after the fall of Prince's Pass, the Old Falcon, leading only a few soldiers, had retreated to Skyreach City. Subsequently, utilizing the geographic advantage of the city and the few soldiers, a tenacious resistance was put up.

However, at this juncture, a retreat horn echoed from behind the royal army.

It turned out that an army, brandishing the banner of House Uller from Hellholt along with more banners of Dornish nobility, had arrived. They launched an attack on the royal army, and Jon Connington, as the supreme commander, was compelled to sound the horn, ordering the troops to halt the assault on Skyreach City and retreat to the camp.

"Reinforcements for Skyreach City have arrived."

"It seems House Fowler has many 'friends.'"

The middle-aged man with grey-red hair sat astride his warhorse, the badge of the Hand of the King faintly reflecting the sunlight upon his chest, his expression stoic, unflustered.

"Have they lost their minds?"

"Daring to oppose the Iron Throne?"

A general from the Second Legion from the continent of Essos, a Lorathi, queried with perplexity.

He did not regard these Dornishmen as his kin, for they were the Rhoynish people who, led by Princess Nymeria, had crossed the Narrow Sea to flee to Dorne a thousand years ago. This involved a plethora of ancient grudges of the Old Kingdom of Lorath, which needed no elaboration.

In the Lorathi general's eyes, the 'Prince' was an absolute entity. Yet these people dared to rebel against their 'Prince,' especially when they evidently could not win. He could not comprehend.

"There's nothing incomprehensible."

"They are Dornish."

"If you can fathom the thoughts of the Dornish, you become one of them."

Jon Connington sat atop his warhorse, voice cold, revealing his disdain for the Dornish.

Although he and Oberyn were considered good friends, it did not affect his negative perception of the Dornish.

This was also understandable, for Jon Connington was a nobleman of the Stormlands, and his fief before being stripped of his title by the Mad King was Griffin's Roost. How could a Stormlands noble possibly harbor goodwill toward the Dornish, the centuries-old mortal enemies?

"Perhaps they've been pampered with too many privileges in the past few years and have forgotten who their sovereign is."

"Or perhaps defeating dragons hundreds of years ago has given them too much confidence."

After Princess Rhaenys came of age, Jon Connington had repeatedly advocated for Viserys to marry her, declaring it the King's 'duty.'

He did not explicitly say against whom, only stating it was the tradition of House Targaryen, and the Valyrian dragonlords.

If they learned from the history of the previous dynasties, to maintain the orthodox lineage of the royal family, a prince with pure blood must ascend to the throne, not one of mixed blood.

Jon Connington did not express it overtly, but the insightful knew he was vehemently promoting the new queen to join the harem, aiming to replace and balance the position of Queen Arianne from Dorne.

And Oberyn, clear-headed, initially intended to oppose but after contemplation chose to observe coldly from the sidelines, privately advising his old friend not to delve too deep.

Because the power struggle within the royal palace was often exceptionally cruel and bloodless.

And even if Viserys married Rhaenys, the young queen still carried half of the Dornish bloodline, so Dorne's interests remained unharmed.

Unfortunately, Jon Connington did not heed Oberyn's sincere advice.

"It's time."

Then, gazing at the army in the distance, fluttering the banners of Hellholt and more Dornish nobility, Jon Connington murmured.

Chapter 665: The Emperor's Southern Tour

"It's time."

"Didn't expect to reel in so many people all at once."

In the sky above, a grey-backed falcon soared, its greyish-black eyes surveying the battlefield below before taking to the wind.

On the ground, within the walls of Skyreach City, the Old Falcon, Franklin Fowler, watched the royal army slowly retreat back to their encampment. He couldn't help but discard his blood-stained longsword and burst into laughter, gazing towards the heavens.

"Ha ha ha—"

"Our reinforcements have finally arrived."

The Count of Skyreach City's armor was battered and torn, his white beard stained with blood. The soldiers of House Fowler on the walls couldn't even muster a laugh; they all simply sat on the ground, heaving great breaths, their eyes filled with the relief of having narrowly escaped death.

Skyreach City was nearly breached just moments ago. Since the significant defeat at Prince's Pass, House Fowler had been desperately holding on with only a few hundred soldiers left.

If it weren't for the treacherous geographical conditions of Skyreach City, making it easy to defend but difficult to assault, it might have fallen, and Lord Fowler might have been taken to King's Landing for trial.

Fortunately, Franklin Fowler had a good reputation in Dorne and wide connections. More importantly, the policy throughout the Seven Kingdoms had sparked much dissatisfaction among the Dornish nobility. They wanted to express their discontent by seizing this opportunity. The royal army, having broken through Prince's Pass and invaded Dorne, touched a sensitive nerve among the Dornish nobility.

Of course, they didn't expect the Iron Throne to change its national policy to consider the feelings of the Dornish nobility.

Although the Dornish nobles were frenzied, they weren't mindless. They knew it was an impossible matter, tantamount to openly rebelling.

Waiting for them would be like the first and second Dornish Wars—armies from the Six Kingdoms attacking Dorne from multiple directions, creating a bloodbath and paying a horrendous price to win the war.

Thus, the Dornish nobles wanted to use Lord Franklin Fowler's situation to express their dissatisfaction to the Iron Throne. Their only demand was for the Riverlands to return those who had fled Dorne and hand them over to Dornish law for punishment.

Because they had violated the local laws set by the lord and nobility, leaving their homeland unbidden, they were criminals in Dorne and should be returned home for trial.

The demands of the Dornish nobles seemed reasonable to them.

After all, Dorne was promised to be a 'Special Zone' by Viserys himself.

While the Special Zone did not adhere to changes in other regions of the Seven Kingdoms and still practiced the high degree of autonomy from the old noble era (except in name, still being subservient to the Iron Throne), Dorne had the right to establish its own laws.

However, they clearly underestimated one thing.

That is, they weren't as important or powerful in the eyes of Viserys as they imagined.

Although Dorne had helped him seize the Iron Throne, Viserys, not being an ungrateful person, felt that the help and merit provided by Dorne were not enough to allow them such insolence.

Moreover, the confidence of the Dornish people had always stemmed from the first Dornish War, where they successfully resisted the dragon attack of House Targaryen and even shot down Queen Rhaenys and her dragon, Meraxes, at Hellholt.

This war, starting in the fourth year of Aegon's reign and lasting until the thirteenth, spanned nearly ten years before a truce was reached. The Targaryen army withdrew from Dornish territory, and, having paid a tremendous price, Dorne maintained its independence and freedom.

This war gave the Dornish ample confidence, lasting through three hundred years of history. The later Dornish people also believed they could resist dragon attacks like their ancestors.

However, history often tells people that even the most prosperous country will have a day of decline. The current Dornish army does not have the bravery of their ancestors when they resisted the invasion.

Their ancestors could fiercely resist the dragon attacks of House Targaryen, but that doesn't mean they can too.

...

Meanwhile, in distant King's Landing.

Viserys, just crowned as the first Emperor of Valyria, mounted his dragon, prepared for a solo tour to the south.

Viserys, in this respect, was somewhat like Aegon; once he unified the six kingdoms, he liked to ride his dragon and tour around when idle.

And Viserys' wife, Arianne, holding little Daenerys's hand, came to bid farewell to her husband.

"My love."

"No matter what, please forgive my father."

The Dornish queen, her beautiful eyes filled with tears, holding the hand of her toddling daughter, knew naturally as Viserys' confidante what her husband intended to do on this southern tour. In recent days, the war reports coming every few days have been discussing the situation in Dorne.

The Dornish war situation is not optimistic. The Count of Skyreach City, the Old Falcon, is not prepared to kneel and submit but is prepared to resist to the end, even assembling many nobles who are friendly with House Fowler.

And the strength of House Fowler itself is not weak. House Fowler is the "Guardian of the Prince's Pass". They are a large family with strength parallel to the "Guardian of the Stone Way" House Yronwood, under House Martell, with many vassals.

Even if House Martell intervened, it could not fully quell the rebellion of Skyreach City. After all, this is the disadvantage of traditional noble governance.

The king is a large noble, and the vassal king is just a slightly larger noble. Everyone still governs themselves; if it is in line with common interests, they will listen to you. If it is not in line with common interests, everyone will do their own thing.

Moreover, now the Iron Throne wants Lord Fowler's head; how could he easily plead guilty and submit?

"Of course, Arianne."

"This matter has nothing to do with Prince Doran."

And Viserys, hearing his wife's words, couldn't help but soften inside. He gently kissed her forehead, then once again mounted the back of Balerion.

The massive black dragon turned its head to look at the silver-haired little girl tottering on the ground.

It knew this was Viserys' daughter.

Then, it let out a low, rumbling roar, and with a powerful push from its hind legs and a flutter of its wings, it shot into the sky, flying toward the south of the empire.

Chapter 666: Negotiations

After the royal army withdrew, the allied Dorne nobility did not pursue. Their numbers didn't hold much of an advantage, and this rebellion in Dorne was merely the activity of a few nobles, without the affirmation from Sunspear.

Their plea, essentially, was for the Iron Throne to return the Dornish who had fled abroad to face trial locally, not to truly rebel. Thus, they dared not pursue too aggressively.

Should they obliterate this royal army in Dorne, their own subsequent days would not be easy either.

Subsequently, the Dornish noble army, primarily led by House Uller of Hellholt, marched into Skyreach City.

"Welcome, Count Harman Uller!"

"My old friend!"

Old Falcon, Franklin Fowler, swapped his blood-stained armor and personally welcomed them outside the city.

The banner of House Uller features crisscrossed flames of yellow and deep red, and Hellholt is positioned in the center of the Dornish desert, near the source of the Brimstone, easily defended and hard to conquer.

Most Dornish castles are strategically located, which is why the Targaryen army faced numerous difficulties after invading Dorne during the First Dornish War three hundred years ago.

Just fighting in the desert alone deterred many soldiers, with the numerous difficulties of combat in the desert - lack of water, intense heat, poisonous creatures - burying countless lives without filling the gap.

This is why Count Uller of Hellholt, with no fear due to his strategic position, has leapt out, opposing the royal authority and supporting the Count of Skyreach City.

After all, there is a proverb among the Dornish: 'Half the Ullers are mad, and the other half are worse.'

"Hmph, I once campaigned in the Riverlands for the Iron Throne!"

"I didn't think that young whelp would betray Dorne."

Harman Uller, a robust man with a touch of grey in his hair, dismounted from his warhorse, embracing his old friend.

"Rest assured, old friend."

"I won't let Jon Connington take you to King's Landing."

Old Falcon, Franklin Fowler, feigned emotion, wiping his eyes, but did not dare to engage in Harman Uller's dialogue. Everyone present knew who the 'young whelp' he referred to was.

In fact, Franklin Fowler regretted the killings, but he didn't want to be taken away like this. That way, once in King's Landing, a dire fate awaited him, forcing him to instigate a rebellion.

Essentially, he still wished for reconciliation with the Iron Throne, harboring a sliver of hope in his heart, not wanting to journey down a path of no return. Therefore, he could only awkwardly laugh in response.

"Ulrick."

"It's been a long time."

Next, Old Falcon cast his gaze upon the slightly younger man beside Harman Uller, his brother, Sir Ulrick Uller.

"Lord Franklin."

Sir Ulrick, his demeanor calm and hand on his sword hilt, shook hands with Old Falcon, then stepped back beside his brother without another word.

"Let's discuss in the city."

"Consider how to negotiate with Jon Connington, how to resolve this matter without disgracing our king."

Franklin Fowler spoke, gesturing invitingly.

"Jon Connington, I met him in King's Landing. Always a cold face, foul and stubborn temperament, not easy to deal with."

"Please—"

"Please—"

Dorne's noble army, hoisting the banners of each House, entered Skyreach City, while those who could not enter began setting up camp outside the city.

"Charge—"

"Charge—"

The sound of horse hooves was chaotic and the colorful banners fluttered in the wind. Dornish soldiers were busy on the mountain, while below, in the royal army camp, the atmosphere was somewhat somber.

"Sir Jon Connington!"

"If I may be blunt."

"The reinforcements from Dorne are here; we can no longer take Skyreach City."

Edwyd Fossoway of the Cider Hall, hand on his sword hilt, spoke. His brother, Bryan Fossoway, nodded in agreement.

"That's right."

"Our supplies are not catching up. If we continue to linger here and Dorne surrounds us, we may face the risk of complete annihilation."

In truth, the army Jon Connington commanded was merely four thousand strong. That they could breach Prince's Pass, penetrating deep into Dorne, was already quite an achievement.

If Jon's four thousand were merely to quell the Fowler family rebellion and escort the Count of Skyreach City to trial in King's Landing, it might be sufficient.

But if other Dornish nobles intervened, their small number would be utterly inconsequential.

Now, House Martell of Sunspear has not yet taken a stance. They neither dispatched troops to suppress the rebellion nor declared support for it.

If House Martell suddenly joined the rebellion, they might never leave Dorne.

Currently, the two thousand legion soldiers following Jon Connington from King's Landing were still spirited, showing no signs of retreat, as most hailed from across the Narrow Sea and held no fear of the Dornish.

However, the local Riverland nobles were already beating a retreat, after all, they had crossed Prince's Pass, deep into Dornish territory. If the Dornish suddenly turned hostile, they wouldn't even have a chance to flee.

Although they were aiding House Cafferen out of a sense of duty, nobody wanted to die, especially not for others.

Hence, they proposed to Jon Connington, the Hand of the King, that they retreat to Prince's Pass, then send envoys to Skyreach City to negotiate, demanding Franklin Fowler's surrender.

Or, Jon Connington should request reinforcements from King's Landing, and they would wait for their arrival at Prince's Pass.

Jon Connington, standing before the map in the central military tent, hadn't spoken from the start, his eyes cast down upon the map.

When the Riverland nobles finished speaking, all eyes converged on him.

The middle-aged man with grey-red hair finally lifted his head, his gaze sweeping across every face present, speaking calmly.

"The Dornish reinforcements are not much more numerous than us."

"They have not fully mobilized, indicating they do not want to resist royal authority to the end for the Fowler family."

"So, if they dare to sortie, we'll take the opportunity to consume them; if they hide beneath Skyreach City, we will besiege them until the end."

"I have sent a raven to King's Landing requesting reinforcements from His Majesty; perhaps the dragons will arrive soon."

Chapter 667: The Emissary of Decapitation

Indeed, events did not defy Jon Connington's anticipation.

Although the forces assembled in Skyreach City, including the rebel nobility of Houses Fowler, Uller of Hellholt, and Qorgyle of Sandstone, were not weaker than the royal army – they even slightly surpassed them – they sheltered under the city without any intention to expel the royal army from Dorne.

Instead, they subsequently dispatched emissaries to negotiate with Jon Connington.

"Dorne, ancient and honorable!"

"Even during the dragon dance of Valyria, the Kingdom of Dorne existed!"

"The Conqueror himself was shattered and buried beneath the walls of Dorne!"

"We are not so easily defeated!"

The Dorne emissary, upon arriving at the tent, arrogantly presented a series of demands to the Hand of the Iron Throne.

The first was a request for the Riverlands and the royal army to provide reasonable compensation for the invasion of Dorne, with a total not exceeding one hundred thousand golden dragons.

The second was to dissociate Count Franklin Fowler from the tragedy of House Cafferen.

The emissary claimed that Count Franklin did not seek revenge at Cider Hall on that day, but instead, subordinates who were friends with Ser Owen went for vengeance without his knowledge, killing the relatives of Count Cafferen. Upon hearing of this, Franklin Fowler was furious. He was willing to apologize, hang all participants (over thirty people), and send their corpses to Count Cafferen as an explanation.

However, he was unwilling to go to King's Landing to admit guilt. He sought to reconcile with the Riverland nobility privately, a common solution to noble conflicts during the era of the Seven Kingdoms.

If private reconciliation could be achieved, the Iron Throne would turn a blind eye, not wishing to meddle unnecessarily, for more problems were undesired.

After all, conflicts and skirmishes among nobility were common, and in the past, the Iron Throne could not manage them all.

The third was a collective plea of the Dorne nobility that came to relieve Skyreach City. They requested the repatriation of all Dornish who had fled abroad to be brought back for trial in their homeland.

After all, the gates of Prince's Pass had been opened, and many inhabitants from various territories had escaped to the Riverlands for a better life.

Dorne was hot and had a harsh climate, while the Riverlands had a suitable climate and fertile lands. The power of nobility was significantly reduced, private punishment was not tolerated, and most crucially, the taxes were the lowest.

After paying taxes, there was still plenty of grain left for the commoners, which could be sold to merchants to improve the livelihood of their families.

This was the life people desired, which is why the Riverlands was the most populated region in Westeros, even surpassing the populous North by several times.

While other regions of the Seven Kingdoms were not as affluent as the Riverlands, due to overall reforms, the population shift was not significant.

Hence, it was not hard to understand why the still-struggling Dornish commoners were willing to move their families to the Riverlands to live a better life.

"If you want blood, the Seven Kingdoms will surely flow with it."

"But why?"

The attitude of the Dorne emissary, wearing the Qorgyle of Sandstone crest, was haughty, presenting three unbearable conditions. However, this emissary, Yaron Qorgyle, the second son of Count Quentyn Qorgyle, was not a fool.

He knew that Jon Connington could not accept these conditions. Yet, weren't negotiations always like this? Demand the sky to settle on the earth.

While Yaron Qorgyle was waiting for Jon Connington to "settle," he did not expect to meet the latter's slaughter instead.

"The Iron Throne will not compromise with traitors!"

"Guards!"

"Take him out and behead him!"

"Hang his head outside the camp for those savages on the mountain to see!"

Jon Connington's expression was icy. Facing the demands presented by the Dorne emissary, he did not rebut but immediately ordered his guards, instructing them to behead this second son of Sandstone and display his head publicly.

"What?"

The Dorne emissary, Yaron Qorgyle, was startled. He did not expect the other party to play out of the ordinary.

Doesn't this violate the rules of negotiation?

Who negotiates without bargaining but instead opts for execution?

However, he did not panic excessively, stubbornly believing that the other party was merely trying to scare him, as after all, it was an unwritten rule that emissaries were not killed during wars between two armies.

"I'm not easily frightened, Lord Jon Connington."

"You better let me go immediately, otherwise my father—"

However, when Yaron Qorgyle was pushed out of the tent by Jon Connington's Kingsguard and pressed down onto the execution block, he seemed to realize that the other party was not joking or intimidating him, and promptly shouted in terror.

"Lord Hand!"

"Jon Connington!"

But when Yaron Qorgyle spilled everything that his father and Count Uller secretly instructed him, it still did not change Jon Connington's intent.

The Riverlands' nobles in the tent were trembling, keeping their mouths shut in fear.

Who could imagine that this seemingly benevolent Hand would order a killing so easily?

On the other side, the executioner had raised his great sword high, and with a swing, the Dorne emissary's head fell to the ground.

Chapter 668: Attack of the Dragon

Thud—

In the city of Skyreach, upon witnessing his second son, Yaron, beheaded and displayed at the forefront of the enemy camp, Count Quentin Coghill of Sandstone Castle could no longer restrain his rage. He smashed the wine glass in his hand and abruptly stood up.

"My son!"

Quentin Coghill sought vengeance for his son. Beside him, the heir to Sandstone, Gullian Coghill, also stood up with a face full of grief and fury, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I will avenge my brother!" "I will sever Jon Clinton's head and send it to King's Landing!" "I will tell Viserys personally! We Dornish are not to be trifled with!"

Seeing the furious outburst of the Coghill father and son of Sandstone, the other Dornish nobles in the Skyreach hall quickly stood up to calm them.

"Lord Quentin!" "Lord Quentin!" "Sir Gullian!" "Please, temper your anger for now. We can avenge Yaron, but we cannot kill Jon Clinton."

Known as the 'Madman', Count Harman Uller of Hellgate Castle was ironically the most composed at that moment. He signaled his brother Ulric to stop Gullian.

Once everyone stood up to restrain the Coghill father and son, Harman Uller continued, "If we kill Jon Clinton, there's no turning back." "The Martell family won't spare us either."

Harman Uller's words instantly cooled the tempers of the Coghills. The rage that clouded their judgment subsided significantly.

Jon Clinton must live. Otherwise, there would be no chance for any reconciliation with the Iron Throne. If the Dornish Prince and the Martells sided with the Iron Throne, their rebellion would undoubtedly fail, and their heads would undoubtedly hang from the walls of King's Landing.

Though devastated by his son's death, Quentin didn't wish to die. Quentin Coghill regained his composure, but his eldest son, Gullian, remained somewhat discontent.

"If the Martells side with the enemy, then he is no Prince of mine!"

Gullian Coghill's words made all the Dornish nobles present change their expressions.

The Martells have a deep hold over Dorne. Prince Doran, who has been in the Water Palace for decades, still holds significant influence. It was only after the deaths of Kingsguard Lewyn Martell and Princess Elia Martell that some began to question Doran's courage. Why didn't he avenge his uncle and sister?

No one dared to openly defy the Martells, but Gullian Coghill just did, causing some unease among the nobles.

"Watch your words!" "The Martells are our Princes!"

The hall went silent after Gullian's statement. He was then reprimanded by his father. Realizing his mistake, Gullian's face turned pale, and he didn't dare utter another word.

"We must still avenge my nephew, Yaron."

The room was silent until the elderly Lord of Skyreach, Franklin Fowler, spoke with a hoarse voice.

"After all, Jon Clinton has gone too far, killing our envoy." "If we don't retaliate, our soldiers' morale will plummet."

Franklin Fowler felt the situation spiraling out of control. He just wanted to survive; that was his only wish after impulsively killing someone. He realized his mistake. He shouldn't have led his troops to attack Quentyn Beach. Instead, he should have done as Yaron had told him and pushed the blame onto his soldiers, claiming ignorance. However, it seemed too late now.

Suddenly, a clarion horn sounded from the walls of Skyreach, its resonating notes stirring the blood and echoing far and wide.

"What's happening?" "Is Jon Clinton daring to attack?" With a single horn, the nobles knew an enemy was near. But who? Was Jon Clinton mad to attack Skyreach with so few men?

But as they pondered, a chilling dragon's cry echoed above them.

"What is that sound?"

In the hall, the Dornish nobles looked up, puzzled.

"A dragon," Gullian Coghill murmured.

"A dragon?" As realization dawned, panic ensued.

"Dragon!" "It's a dragon!" "Run!"

But it was too late.

The vast, shadowy dragon Balerion descended from the sky, its wings creating a massive gust as it roared. The Fowler soldiers on the walls of Skyreach shot arrows, but they were like pinpricks.

Arrows ricocheted off Balerion's thick, coarse scales, falling back to the ground.

Then, with its vast maw wide open, Balerion aimed at the castle below. A deep cyan glow emerged from its throat.

Chapter 669: The Fall of the City

A colossal roar resounded as torrents of dragonfire cascaded down, instantly collapsing the castle's roof. Amidst the rubble, embers intertwined with shards of brick and tile furiously infiltrated the fortress.

"Ah, ah, ah—"

Unseen Dornish soldiers were submerged within the dragonfire, their harrowing screams echoing amidst the chaos. Some were instantly incinerated into ash, while others writhed on the ground, attempting to extinguish the flames enveloping them.

"Help!"

"Help!"

Others, choosing a swift end to their agony, leapt from the castle walls, ending their lives on their own terms.

Within the citadel of Skyreach Castle, the ceiling shattered tumultuously. Numerous Dornish nobles, barely given a chance to react, were either fatally injured or killed instantaneously.

Heat.

The rolling heatwave enveloped every being, as though they were ensnared within a fiery furnace. The surrounding air rapidly desiccated, all moisture eradicated in a flash.

Count Franklin Fowler of Skyreach was among the quicker to react, and perhaps, more fortunate.

As the ceiling crumbled under the might of the dragonfire, a massive stone fell, crushing a warrior of House Blackmont into a pulpy mess right before his eyes. Unscathed, he hastily dove under a table, narrowly evading death.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

At this moment, the elderly Franklin gasped for breath, hiding beneath the table and gazing fearfully at the calamity unfolding around him. However, his eyes met only the rising flames and shattered stone and tile.

The 'Heaven's King' House Fowler, which has thrived generation after generation in Dorne, now gaped open with a colossal wound. Lifting his gaze, he could directly observe the azure sky and the pervasive gunsmoke.

"Hss—"

Balerion unleashed a deep, potent dragon's roar, its wings vibrating as it encircled the human castle below, unleashing its fiery wrath.

Since the end of the second conquest war, it had been a while since it had such an opportunity to unleash carnage like this.

However, this time, Balerion released all the pent-up energy in one go.

Boom, boom, boom—

It flapped its wings to its heart's content, squandering its dragonfire, the surging columns of indigo flame obliterating the structures within Skyreach. Broken rooftops and towering turrets collapsed amidst mournful cries.

Skyreach's pigsties, stables, armories, libraries, and so forth, were all ignited by the dragonfire, the entire castle submerged within a sea of flames.

"Hss—"

Balerion let out a low growl, its wings vibrating as it once again soared into the sky.

Its dragonfire, initially crimson, now, with growing age and size, was gradually darkening.

The dragon, suddenly descending from the heavens, presented an opportunity that the army at the base of the mountain outside the city would not miss.

Jon Connington's plea for aid had been sent not long ago, and he had not expected the dragon to arrive so swiftly. Considering that the raven might not have flown past Prince's Pass—

Did His Majesty see the situation here while in King's Landing?

However, this bold thought merely flashed through his mind, and he did not dare to speculate further.

Varys's possession of mysterious magic remained a rumor among the common folk, but it was a secret known to all the king's ministers and high officials.

Subsequently, the middle-aged man with ash-red hair, watching the dragon dancing in the sky and Skyreach engulfed in flames, did not mount his horse but drew his sword, pointing it towards the distant city wall and bellowing angrily.

"His Majesty leads the attack! Take this city!"

"Slay all the traitors!"

"Charge!"

The allied nobles of the Riverlands and soldiers from the Second Legion, who had traveled from King's Landing, roared in unison, charging towards Skyreach.

And Jon Connington, leading by example, did not mount his warhorse. Due to Skyreach's treacherous geographical conditions, situated atop a hill with broken and uneven roads, they were forced to charge forward on foot, swords in hand.

"Charge!"

The dark mass of the royal army, ladders in hand, marched towards Skyreach.

And the Heaven's Castle, at this moment, was submerged within a sea of fire. They didn't even need ladders, as the city gates, including a section of the wall, had been blown apart by the dragonfire just moments ago, reduced to ruins covering the ground.

The air on the battlefield was stiflingly hot at this moment, and everywhere you looked, there were blazing flames.

Although the dragon had soared away and was no longer spewing fire, most of the Dornish soldiers had lost the courage to resist. They ran and shouted continuously, emitting pitiful cries for help.

"Water, water, water—"

"Save me!"

"Save me!"

Numerous soldiers were still ablaze, desperately hoping for rain to douse their pain. However, in Dorne's scorching and arid climate, days of rain were few and far between.

Ultimately, they failed to extinguish the flames on their bodies, collapsing to the ground in despair during their last-ditch efforts to run, transforming into charred corpses.

"Charge!"

Immediately, the royal army charged into the city, unstoppable, like a force mowing down everything in its path.

With the assistance of the dragon, they shattered the morale of the Dornish soldiers, sweeping away the gloom of the previous days of difficult siege, as if deities had descended, killing every enemy that appeared before their eyes.

Now, the entirety of Skyreach was shrouded in rising smoke and surging flames, with only a sparse number of Dornish soldiers continuing to resist valiantly. However, how could they possibly withstand the victorious momentum of the royal army?

And the dragon in the sky, fearing it might accidentally injure its own soldiers, had now ascended to a higher altitude, circling in the heavens, continuously emitting low roars, surveying the entire battlefield.

Not far away, Varys stood on a small hill, calmly observing the entire battlefield.

Actually, this was merely a 'fishing operation.'

In one fell swoop, all the Dornish nobles who harbored dissatisfaction towards the Iron Throne were lured out. After all, their discontent, hidden within their hearts, would eventually erupt, so why not resolve it all now?

The problem of Dorne needed to be resolved sooner or later; otherwise, without Dorne, Westeros would be incomplete.

However, the stubborn and obstinate character of the Dornish people, uniting in the face of invasion, was the most troublesome issue.

Varys first approached from a political angle, eroding the relationship between the Dornish nobles and the people, resulting in the current split and opposition between the Dornish nobles and the common folk.

Then, taking advantage of a convenient excuse to wage a war, the Cynford family incident was actually just an accident.

Because truly integrating Dorne into the empire's system, relying only on the enticement of high profits, without undergoing a war, was utterly impossible.

In that case, the Dornish people would never willingly submit.

However, at this moment, something unexpected occurred.

Chapter 670: Jon's Assassination

"Kill!"

Jon Connington, leading from the front, sword in hand, was the first to plunge into the heat of Skyreach.

"Help me!"

"Please, save me!"

As he stepped through the city gate, a Dornish soldier, armored in sandy yellow leather, helmet affixed, and armed with a spear and shield, dashed towards him, ablaze and wailing in agony.

Thud—

Jon, however, did not save him. He coldly knocked him to the ground with a swift kick.

Slurp—

He proceeded to pierce the soldier's throat with his sword, blood instantly soaking into the earth below, ending the soldier's pain.

"Lord Connington!"

"You should not be here!"

Clang, clang, clang—

The battlefield within Skyreach was shrouded in thick smoke and rampant flames, punctuated by the clashing of weapons and intermittent screams. Though the dragon had breached the city gates and crushed the Dornish soldiers' courage, skirmishes still erupted throughout the city. It was indeed a risky move for Jon Connington, the commander of the army, to be here.

One of his Kingsguard, wielding a blood-stained sword and face smeared with soot and smoke, slew a Dornish soldier, standing protectively beside Jon. He turned, expressing his concern, "It's too dangerous here! Please, step back!"

Yet the ash-red haired man, adorned with the Hand of the King pin, waved him off indifferently, "It's alright. The enemy is like a dog that has lost its home."

A Westerosi proverb claims: How can a general ask his soldiers to be brave if he himself does not lead them into battle? Jon Connington often adhered to this principle.

During the Battle of the Bells, he led the charge, nearly slaying Hoster Tully himself and killing the heir to the Vale, Denys Arryn, causing a crisis of succession in the Vale. He was a man of action, not words, and his steadfastness and silence were often mistaken for arrogance and indifference.

"Go!"

"Capture all members of House Fowler, including the criminal, Count Franklin Fowler. But remember, do not harm them."

Jon then ordered his guard, intentionally instructing them not to massacre innocents, avoiding the brewing of further hatred. The tragedy that befell House Cynford was one thing; seeking justice and enforcing the kingdom's law was another. But if they extinguished House Fowler in return, the ensuing cycle of vengeance would be endless. Thus, Jon insisted on holding only the chief culprits accountable, believing a father's sins should not be visited upon his daughter.

"Yes!"

As the Kingsguard nodded, preparing to move to his next task, a sudden twist occurred.

The castle's grand hall roof had collapsed into ruins, with only two solitary, half-erect walls remaining amidst the smoldering flames and billowing black smoke.

From these ruins, a man emerged, his dark, curly hair and somewhat reddish-brown skin marred by burns, his eyes filled with hatred as they locked onto Jon Connington.

He shakily drew his bow, aiming with tremendous effort despite the intense pain coursing through his scorched, blackened, and bloodied fingers.

Jon, unsuspecting, continued to converse with his guard.

Thud—

The sound of the bowstring was lost amidst the cacophony of battle.

An arrow pierced through the dense smoke and flames, suddenly embedding itself into Jon Connington's chest.

Spurt—

Blood sprayed forth.

Jon Connington, struck by a surprise arrow, collapsed into a pool of his own blood. The soldiers of the royal army, initially stunned, erupted into chaos.

From afar, Varys, who had been scrutinizing the battlefield with Balerion the Black Dread now at his side, felt a sudden jolt in his gaze, his face darkening.

"Trouble."

He possessed fragmented precognitive abilities. He foresaw Jon Connington's assassination but, being so near, it was too late to act.

"Lord Connington!"

"Lord Connington!"

"The Hand of the King has been struck!"

Amidst the uproar, the knights and nobles from the Riverlands who had stormed Skyreach with Jon Connington found their scalps tingling at the sight of the fallen man.

"Disaster!"

"Trouble is brewing!"

The Hand of the King, as the name suggests, is the king's right-hand man. Now that the Hand had been ambushed, how would King Varys react? They dared not imagine the scene that would unfold. If the king were to unleash his wrath, Dorne would undoubtedly suffer. The best outcome for them would be to avoid implication in the tragedy.

"Maester! Maester!"

"Quickly!"

A maester, his neck adorned with chains, hurried forward, ready to tend to the fallen Jon Connington.

"Catch the assassin!"

"Catch the assassin!"

"Spare no one!"

Then, the knights from the Riverlands, snapping back to reality, bellowed in rage, venting their fury upon the hapless Dornish soldiers.

Moments ago, they were accepting the surrender of some Dornish soldiers. But now, after Jon's attack, the situation abruptly shifted.

"Die!"

The royal soldiers, eyes ablaze with rage, indiscriminately slaughtered without hesitation.

"Kill them all!"

Squelch, squelch, squelch—

As the royal soldiers wreaked havoc, the Dornish, already on the losing end, were decimated. Dornish soldiers who had surrendered were now summarily executed, while those who had not surrendered were given no quarter. Those who fought to the bitter end were pierced by multiple spears, collapsing amidst the bloodbath.

Chapter 671: Death

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

The battle of Skyreach Castle drew its curtain under the lingering glow of the sunset.

Swish

Viserys emerged on the battlefield, slowly making his way forward, each step an intentional imprint.

Rustle

The black cloak, pinned with a metallic dragon head brooch, fluttered slightly in the breeze, whispering its subtle presence.

Boom

His ally, the black dragon Balerion, landed heavily on the shattered edge of the Skyreach walls, stirring a tempest of dust and wind.

The dragon lifted its monstrous head, its dreadfully crimson eyes gazing down upon the diminutive beings below. Then, it unleashed a deafening roar, a bellow of abyssal depths, resonating far and wide. It could feel the rage smoldering within Viserys.

"Roar—"

Rustle

At the dragon's roar, the royal soldiers and Riverland nobles, who had cleared a path for Viserys, were struck with bone-chilling fear. They immediately knelt on one knee, forming a thick carpet of subservience.

Some among them had seen Viserys before; others had not.

They had thought that the king sent only his mount into battle. They did not anticipate that His Grace would lead the charge himself, riding atop the gargantuan dragon to quell the rebellion in Dorne.

Their internal trepidation now morphed into heart-pounding fear, for no one knew what would transpire now that Viserys had learned of his Prime Minister's demise.

Skyreach was now a ruin. Fires still raged within the city, thick gunpowder smoke lingered, and the corpses of Dornish soldiers lay haphazardly strewn across the ground. Yet, in the midst of this devastation, the royal soldiers and knights of the Riverlands knelt, not daring to raise their heads, their eyes fixed on the charred earth beneath them, throats nervously swallowing.

The path cleared by the knights of the Riverlands led to a body placed upon a door panel.

No stretchers or coffins were available, just a door panel scavenged from the rubble to lay the body upon. Not even a white cloth to cover the face could be found, only a corner of a banner veiling the cheek.

The chest of the corpse bore the golden badge of the Hand of the King. In the fading light of sunset, it should have gleamed brilliantly. However, the badge was stained with a swath of its owner's blood, dimming its luster and glory.

Viserys slowly approached the corpse, the fierce wind atop the hill gently stirring his hair.

The young silver-haired man's face bore neither anger nor any other emotion. Perhaps he had concealed them all.

"Mm."

He then slightly nodded to a guardsman of the Tower of the Hand, signaling him.

"Yes, Your Grace."

The guard, once kneeling, quickly rose to remove the cloth covering Jon Connington's face, revealing his cheeks.

His eyes were gently closed now, his grey-red beard stained with blood. His face was pallid, void of any life's hue, and his body was already cold.

Jon Connington's flame had been extinguished.

Viserys had seen this outcome in a prophecy. His precognitive abilities, filled with uncontrollable variables, often left him with nothing but shattered fragments.

Had he known earlier, he would never have allowed Jon Connington to come to Dorne.

But now, such words were too late. He had held onto a final illusion, but Jon Connington was indeed dead, and even the black mist could not save him.

"Jon."

Viserys's eyes slightly congealed, his gloved hand clenched tightly.

Who would have thought that after the situation had stabilized, Jon Connington would capsize in this minor ditch?

However, the unexpected always comes unexpectedly.

When Jon Connington suppressed Oberyn and personally led the troops on the expedition, he never thought it would be his swan song. He would never return to King's Landing again.

On the other side,

"Come!"

"Quickly!"

The war had ended, and the royal army had completely occupied Skyreach Castle. There was no more resistance within the castle.

Soldiers found surviving Dornish nobles amidst the rubble. Many of them were already dead or injured, with only a few barely alive. However, they were all half-dead from the dragon's flame, and by the time they were found, they were on their last breath, including the lord of Skyreach, Franklin Fowler.

"Your Grace!"

"Your Grace!"

The royal soldiers escorted these prisoners before Viserys and forced them all to kneel.

"Your Grace, this man is the murderer!"

The royal soldiers found the instigator of the treacherous arrow, a young man whose hair and leather armor were scorched, his face a mosaic of red and black. He was the heir of Sandstone, Julian Cogwell.

Julian Cogwell had luckily not been crushed when the dragon's flame collapsed the castle hall's roof. Then, he saw Jon Connington, the murderer of his brother.

Immediately, his eyes were veiled with hatred. To avenge his brother, he secretly drew his bow and shot Jon Connington with a cold arrow.

However, he came to his senses now, staring at Jon Connington's body on the ground, enveloped by regret and fear.

"Your Grace, mercy!"

"Your Grace, mercy!"

The other Dornish nobles, having seen Viserys, trembled as if they had seen a demon, and hastily kowtowed, begging for mercy.

Many of them had witnessed Viserys during the public trial in King's Landing. However, they did not expect to see him again just a year later. But this time, they were the prisoners below, awaiting judgment.

"Your Grace, I am willing to plead guilty!"

"I am willing to plead guilty!"

Among these Dornish nobles, the white-haired old hawk, the protagonist of this incident, the Count of Skyreach, Franklin Fowler, was covered in blood. Knowing he was seeing Viserys, he knew he could not escape his sins. Now, he only sought to save his life.

"Your Grace, I am willing to plead guilty!"

"I am willing to don black and guard the Wall!"

Franklin Fowler no longer dared to seek absolution from his sins, only hoping to earn the qualification to don the black.

However, this matter was no longer the focus now. The Prime Minister's death on the battlefield was the real crisis.

The murderer, Julian Cogwell, was as pale as a ghost, matching the lying Jon Connington on the ground.

"I"

He opened his mouth, wanting to beg for mercy or explain his actions, but whether it was due to fear or another reason, nothing came out.

The Cogwell family of Sandstone now only had him left. His father, Quentin Cogwell, had just been burned alive by the dragon flame.

If he dies again, the Cogwell family of Sandstone will officially be extinct, exiting the stage of history.

"Just kill them all."

However, Viserys simply raised his head to glance at them, and then lightly uttered these words, deciding their fate.

"Your Grace!"

"Your Grace!"

All the captured Dornish nobles were in a panic, but Viserys ignored them and turned to leave.

However, at this moment, in a sight unseen by others, a black mist emerged from Jon Connington's body.

It seemed to be attracted to some attribute within Viserys and directly penetrated into his body.

"Hmm?"

And Viserys, stepping outward, paused for a moment, then turned his body to look back at Jon's corpse.

Chapter 672: Jon's Soul

"This is Jon's spirit."

Below the Skyreach Castle, within the encampment, the night persisted.

Viserys, steadfast in his unwavering loyalty, held a vigil for his most devoted Hand of the King, Jon Connington. The soldiers had felled several trees, using the choicest wood to hastily craft a coffin for the interim.

Jon's body now lay serenely within, beside him, Viserys's sword, Dusk.

The climate of Dorne was scorching, and despite the stark contrast between day and night temperatures, a body would decompose within half a day under the blazing sun.

Dusk, forged from the heart of a red comet, would scorch enemies in battle. Yet, for anyone but Viserys, holding it brought a bone-chilling cold.

Melisandre, the Red Priestess, posited that the comet's heart was a gift from R'hllor, the Lord of Light, to Viserys. Thus, anyone else would feel a paralyzing chill upon contact, barely able to hold it. Only Viserys was immune, able to wield it freely.

She proclaimed Viserys to be the 'Son of the Sun,' the reincarnation of the hero 'Azor Ahai.' However, Viserys knew the truth of his own existence; he was no reincarnation, certainly not a 'Son of the Sun.'

Now, utilizing Dusk's intrinsic chill, he placed it beside Jon's body, using the sword's cold to preserve it, ensuring the corpse could be returned home without decay.

Though only half a night had passed, Jon's body remained unchanged, as if frozen from the inside out.

Meanwhile, in the daylight, the once-proclaimed 'Heaven's Reach' was reduced to ruins and debris. Jon Connington's assassination had sparked a rare fury in Viserys.

He ordered all forces to withdraw from Skyreach Castle. All captured Dornish nobles and the murderer, Julian Cogwell, were bound and placed at the center of the castle.

Subsequently, Viserys commanded his ally, the black dragon Balerion, to eradicate the ancient castle, reducing it to mere rubble and memories with its fiery breath.

Skyreach and the Fowler family, Sandstone and the Cogwell family, the Yronwoods of Yronwood Castle – all were erased from the annals of history.

The Fowler twins, being female, were spared, while all other male heirs were burned alive.

Similarly, for the Cogwell family of Sandstone: one heir was beheaded by Jon Connington, and the other was burned alive.

Harman Yronwood, Count of Yronwood Castle, was crushed by a falling ceiling stone, while his brother and heir, Ser Uller Yronwood, was incinerated by dragonfire.

The Yronwood family was left with but a single illegitimate daughter, Ellaria Sand, who was currently in King's Landing, lover to Oberyn, bearing him four daughters.

The Fowler twins and Ellaria Sand were all stripped of their inheritance rights and demoted to commoners.

Now, deep into the night, a young man with silver hair sat alone in the hastily erected mourning hall, hand resting upon Jon Connington's coffin.

Silence enveloped him.

The wind rustled the white curtains of the mourning hall, creating a soft whisper, and there were no guards outside. Viserys had dismissed them all.

Currently, a faint black mist appeared in his palm. It seemed ethereal, morphing into various shapes as if possessing consciousness.

Viserys knew this was Jon Connington's spirit.

Ever since absorbing the powers of the Old Gods and the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran Stark, his psychic abilities had nearly peaked.

Now, he no longer needed to manually collect life and spirit. Merely residing within the Red Keep of King's Landing, the souls of the deceased within several miles were drawn to him, concentrating upon him. This was why he rarely left King's Landing in recent years.

Jon Connington's spirit leaving his body meant a complete death, with no possibility of revival. His body, without the suppression of Dusk, would perhaps begin showing signs of decay in a few hours.

However, what Viserys was contemplating now was whether there were other opportunities for Jon Connington's spirit.

"Can I communicate with the spirit of the deceased?"

"Or perhaps there are other turning points?"

Viserys gazed at the faint black mist in his palm, a momentary contemplative expression on his face.

However, he did not know what to do at the moment.

After all, everything about this path was unfamiliar to him, with no reference points. He could only continue to feel his way forward.

However, Viserys did have one consultable entity.

It was the remnant of the Valyrian sea god Miraesis. She knew many things and might provide some help to Viserys.

Unfortunately, she was not with him at the moment. He would have to wait until he returned to King's Landing to inquire.

Including the matter of the giant white raven skull, it should also be timely scheduled.

The remnant of Miraesis in the less divine unnamed statue, he was somewhat looking forward to what was contained in the white skull.

But now, the most important thing was Jon Connington's spirit.

Viserys carefully stored it to prevent it from mixing with other absorbed black mists. Otherwise, without a means of communication, even he would be unable to distinguish who each of them was.

This was an opportunity. Viserys had never thought of developing in this direction before. However, the unexpected death of Jon Connington was the first time he turned his attention to the link of human life and death.

Could he communicate with the deceased?

Viserys did not know, but this was the only thing he could do now.

The next morning, at dawn.

A hazy new sun slowly rose from the east, and lingering fires still burned amidst the ruins of Skyreach Castle, with black smoke yet to disperse.

Now, the hearts of everyone in the royal army were somewhat heavy, including the nobles of the Riverlands. The entire army dismantled their tents, escorting the spirit of Prime Minister Jon Connington back to the Riverlands.

However, as they rode their warhorses, their minds were burdened with heavy thoughts.

"Let's go."

They had defeated their old opponents, their enemies, but the outcome was not what they desired.

The castle was leveled, heirs were all killed, and only girls, stripped of their castle, were left.

Their futures were predictable: no noble would dare risk marrying them, even with their noble blood. Ultimately, they would marry commoners or become prostitutes.

Chapter 673: Raven to Sunspear

The rebellion of Skyreach Castle finally met its fiery end beneath the roar of dragon flames. A fortress and three ancient Dornish families were forever erased from the annals of history.

The royal army, carrying the coffin of Jon Clinton, slowly retreated along the road toward Prince's Pass.

The surrounding Dornish families were as quiet as winter crickets. House Blackmont of Blackmont Castle had narrowly evaded disaster.

Not long ago, Lady Larra, after much persuasion, had chosen to send her troops to Skyreach. However, the Blackmonts were left with only women and children. Her daughter, Joneysa, and young son, Penrose, were too young to lead. They merely sent a symbolic force of a few hundred soldiers under the command of their house knights.

Fortunately, Viserys did not retaliate against the Blackmonts.

House Manwoody of Kingsgrave acted similarly, supporting the Fowler family during the Battle of Prince's Pass. Although they did not send troops, they supplied many resources to help the Fowlers defend the pass. But Dicken Manwoody, the younger son of the Earl of Kingsgrave, was captured by the royal army during the battle. Using him, the royal forces managed to deceitfully open the gates. Thus, Dicken was credited for his reluctant service.

Upon entering the pass, Jon Clinton honored the promise made to Dicken by the fifty warriors, pardoning House Manwoody and releasing him.

Thus, House Manwoody of Kingsgrave also narrowly escaped doom.

Viserys did not accompany the retreating army. Instead, he escorted Jon Clinton's coffin and penned a letter en route. The letter was brief. Once written, he sealed it with dark red wax, impressing it with the Targaryen dragon sigil from his cloak pin, and handed it to a maester accompanying the army.

"Maester Yvlyn," he commanded, "Send this to Sunspear."

A maester, clad in gray robes with a chain of knowledge around his neck and graying hair, stepped forward, bowing slightly. "As you wish."

Although Maester Yvlyn could not save Jon Clinton, Viserys did not blame him. In this age, the survival of the wounded was rare. Many suffered only to die.

Viserys's letter was simple, demanding an explanation from his estranged father-in-law in Sunspear, who had not left the Water Gardens in decades, for the events that transpired.

Initially, Viserys had promised Arianne that he wouldn't make such demands, but Jon Clinton's death had ignited his fury. He could no longer turn a blind eye to Sunspear's tacit approval of the rebellion.

Viserys, with his knowledge of history and the world's trajectory, understood Dorne's situation all too well. Prince Doran's tactics were brilliant; he had a firm grip on Dorne.

In other words, without Sunspear's silent consent, the rebellion in Skyreach would not have erupted. Even if Old Falcon instigated the rebellion to escape justice, other families wouldn't have had the courage to join without Sunspear's tacit approval.

House Martell of Sunspear, his unseen father-in-law, perhaps intended to express discontent towards the Iron Throne through this, cleverly distancing themselves and letting 'pawns' take the brunt.

But an infuriated Viserys responded by annihilating the 'pawns' sent by Prince Doran with the might of dragons, sending a strong message.

From a strategic perspective, Prince Doran's moves might not have been erroneous. Viserys's approach to Dorne was a transparent strategy, making Dorne an easy target.

Yet Doran's mistake was underestimating Viserys's resolve to address the Dornish issue and misjudging the timing of the dragon's deployment.

Who could've foreseen that even before the war in Skyreach began, a dragon, precisely timing its flight, would soar from King's Landing to Dorne?

After all, Viserys possessed the 'third eye,' while Prince Doran was but a mortal. This chess match was inherently unfair.

Neither player, Viserys nor Doran, could've predicted the unexpected move by the heir of House Qorgyle of Sandstone, Gulian Qorgyle, who, seeking vengeance for his brother, fired an arrow that pierced Jon Clinton's heart. This unforeseen act, leading to the death of the Hand of the King leading the expedition, incensed Viserys.

These events were beyond the predictions of both Viserys and Doran.

As a result, Viserys, in his fury, razed Skyreach, exterminating House Qorgyle of Sandstone, House Uller of Hellholt, and the 'Guardians of the Pass,' House Fowler of Skyreach.

Doran now faced two choices:

First, instigate a larger rebellion, risking his children in King's Landing but winning the loyalty of Dornish nobles.

Or second, heed Viserys's command, humble himself, and explain his actions to the court in King's Landing. This would ensure the safety of his children and Dorne, but at the cost of the loyalty of the Dornish nobles.

Dorne would inevitably be forced to reform and truly become part of the empire, rather than maintaining a semi-independent status.

After dispatching the letter, Viserys, escorting Jon Clinton's coffin, mounted his dragon and flew directly to King's Landing.

Chapter 674: Ambushed

Viserys soared back to King's Landing, while across the Narrow Sea, the visiting fleet had long since departed Myr, arriving at their next diplomatic location.

Tyroshi.

Tyroshi, a port city and one of the nine Free Trade Cities, sat isolated from the continent on a large island north of the Stepstones, making it the nearest trade city to the Westerosi continent.

"I've been to Sunspear before."

"And to Tyroshi as well, Asha."

A Ironborn, wearing loose grey-black cloth garb with no buttons fastened, a curved blade tied to his waist, strolled and conversed with Asha Greyjoy.

"Tyroshi is much larger than Sunspear."

A bustling city lay before them. The Targaryen fleet anchored at Tyroshi's port, where sailors and soldiers could briefly roam freely, procure supplies, and amidst the port stood the Weeping Tower.

Tyroshi was considerably larger than Sunspear, yet far smaller than King's Landing.

However, this island city thrived on trade. Goods from all over the world appeared here for transit or distribution, giving the bustling streets a vibrant atmosphere. Diverse people of various hair and skin colors, regional accents and attire could be seen, some in small groups, others haggling prices.

Asha and other foreigners walked boldly along the main street without attracting attention due to the city's open atmosphere.

Moreover, Tyroshi was known for its thriving slave trade, and mercenaries, slaves, and pleasure gardens were prevalent within the city.

Once a colony of the Valyrian Freehold, Tyroshi gained independence following the Doom.

"Asha Greyjoy of the Andals."

In terms of governance, the ruler of Tyroshi was referred to as the 'Archon'.

The Archon of Tyroshi was not hereditary but was elected through a series of bribes and threats, which was considered normal by the people of Tyroshi.

After all, how could a candidate who doesn't even know how to bribe expect to govern their city?

Hence, during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, mercenaries, pirates, and merchants who conquered Tyroshi supported the local wealthy merchant 'Silver-tongue' Aquido Adarys to become the ruler of Tyroshi.

But after the failure of the Ninepenny Kings' War, Aquido ruled Tyroshi for several more years before being poisoned by his wife, and the Archon system of Tyroshi was restored.

However, 'Silver-tongue' Aquido Adarys's youngest son, Orton Adarys, was not purged but gained the trust of the current Archon and later became one of the governors of Myr with the support of Tyroshi.

Now, within the Archon's palace of Tyroshi.

The present Archon of Tyroshi sat centrally in the palace, cradling a shapely female slave, gently savoring the scent emanating from her, as she sat, enchanted, in his lap, offering him a grape to taste.

Several slaves knelt beside the Archon, some holding fruit platters, some massaging his feet, and another acting as his translator.

The Valyrian spoken in Tyroshi was notably divergent, being a heavily localized variant of Valyrian, so the Archon didn't understand the Common Tongue, and Asha didn't understand this dialect.

At this moment, the Archon of Tyroshi inquired, and the translator, wearing merely a coarse cloth shirt, bare-armed, and a slave mark tattooed on his cheek, unhesitatingly addressed those below.

"Asha Greyjoy of the Andals, my king has some questions for you."

"What is the purpose of your visit this time?"

"How long do you plan to stay in Tyroshi?"

The Archon of Tyroshi's questions seemed somewhat impolite but were very straightforward.

[Continuation in the next message due to character limit]

[Continued from the previous message]

For a place like Tyroshi, tucked away in its own corner with no ambitions of conquest, the only slight overreach was the claim to the disputed territories.

Those lands were once prosperous during Valyrian rule but have now declined, though they still possess a significant population and mines.

Now with Myr out of the competitive sequence, only Tyroshi and Lys directly face off, mutually disdainful.

Moreover, Volantis has always been keen to meddle in the dispute over those territories.

However, considering the scale of Tyroshi and Lys, Volantis is a colossal entity, so every time Volantis shows interest in the disputed territories, the once 'Two Sisters' temporarily lay down their weapons, uniting against a common external threat.

But now, not just Volantis, another even larger colossus next to the Three Sisters Kingdom has unexpectedly cast its gaze eastward, sending a fleet on a diplomatic visit, making the world of Free Trade Cities universally tense.

The Archon of Tyroshi's question is, in a strict sense, the first time the world of Free Trade Cities has inquired about the Iron Throne's intentions.

And the fleet's first combat visit to Myr did not have this privilege; a puppet regime cannot represent the Free Trade Cities, nor can it directly converse with the Iron Throne.

"Your Majesty's decree I cannot refuse, nor can I speculate on his intentions."

"His Majesty received a plea for help from the Naathi Isles, dispatched troops to assist Valyria's vassal country in resolving the pirate crisis, and instructed me to visit the City-States along the way to convey amicable relations."

"We are friends, Archon."

And the Princess of the Iron Islands, standing at the base of the stairs with one hand on her waist-bound blade, surveyed the surroundings and spoke loudly. Her reply was neither humble nor haughty, showing no signs of stage fright.

Viserys sent Asha on this diplomatic mission precisely because he saw her capability of handling things independently.

'Asha is not like many lacy-gowned girls.'

Not long after, Asha concluded her diplomatic mission in the Archon's palace of Tyroshi.

The Archon of Tyroshi has close relations with Dorne, and the Archon himself and Prince Doran have a deeply secretive personal relationship, thus he is quite well-informed about events occurring in Westeros.

The Archon of Tyroshi also asked Asha about the reasons and intentions behind Viserys's declaration of ascension to the Emperor of Valyria and expressed worried emotions.

Because Tyroshi was once a vassal of Valyria, and besides themselves, no one wants to see this great empire return to this world.

However, Asha was unaware of this matter and appeared bewildered. The Archon of Tyroshi learned about this news in advance through covert channels.

Now, Asha and her entourage, riding warhorses, left the Archon's palace in Tyroshi and leisurely returned toward the port, taking the opportunity to appreciate Tyroshi's local customs and people.

But just as the two, riding their warhorses, passed a small alley, a group of people suddenly emerged, blockading them front and back.

"Kill her!"

Subsequently, this group of masked black-clothed individuals did not engage in any dialogue with Asha but directly drew their weapons and pounced.

The second chapter will follow shortly.

Chapter 675: Escape

On the streets of Tyroshi.

Suddenly, dozens of masked mercenaries emerged from both ends of the street, unsheathing their blades and lunging towards Asha, the Iron Throne's emissary, and her Ironborn subordinate named Gormond.

"Kill her!"

Both, seasoned in numerous battles, reacted commendably.

"Damn it!"

"Run!"

Asha and her Ironborn, their expressions altering, hesitated not a moment. They opted not to draw their blades in defiance but whipped their horses around and charged towards the direction with the fewest assailants.

"Out of the way!"

In this era, without mastery of magic, even the most formidable knight can't oppose dozens of foes simultaneously, for one doesn't have eyes in the back of their head.

Asha and Gormond made no mistake in their choice. They aggressively spurred their warhorses, charging into the mercenaries who dared not block their path with their lives, for being hit by a galloping warhorse meant certain death or grievous injury.

Asha managed to break through, but Gormond, her Ironborn, was not as fortunate.

He was yanked from his horse by a masked mercenary, crashing heavily to the ground. His warhorse, in pain, collided with the stable of a nearby tavern.

Thud, thud, thud—

Immediately, the masked mercenary pulled a dagger from his waist, ruthlessly stabbing it several times into the unfortunate Ironborn's abdomen, blood gushing forth instantly.

Gormond, his face reflecting disbelief, stared wide-eyed at the assassin as he fell.

The attack was so abrupt that nobody expected that, in the light of day on Tyroshi's streets, someone would dare assault the Iron Throne's emissary, a commander with two thousand soldiers at her disposal.

"Heh, heh, heh—"

Blood surged from Gormond's throat, obstructing his airway. He looked towards Asha's retreating figure, wanting to say something, but no words came. His head tilted, drawing his last breath.

Not far away,

"Hu~"

Asha Greyjoy, having fortuitously escaped the ambush, turned her horse around, standing on the street, gazing back towards the chaos.

Her eyes, having witnessed the faithful servant of her father - who had loyally followed her through thick and thin, through famine and feast in the mountains of the Westerlands - perish at the hands of these masked scoundrels, flared red.

"Damn it!"

On the other side, the mercenary leader who had just killed Gormond wiped the blood from his blade on the fallen Ironborn's body, lifted his head, and saw Asha Greyjoy observing them from a distance.

His eyes radiated mockery, then lifted his hand, making a throat-slitting gesture towards Asha.

This was a blatant provocation. Asha's eyes reddened, her hands clutching the reins until her knuckles whitened. However, the Ironborn Princess could only seethe impotently; to draw a blade and fight back now would be tantamount to suicide.

"Chase her!"

Meanwhile, the masked mercenaries, who had just surrounded them, had now regrouped. The leader, who had just killed Gormond, gestured towards Asha, not far away.

Instantly, the masked mercenaries chased after Asha, who, seeing this, changed her expression once more, then spurred her horse, its legs powerfully propelling it forward.

"Go!"

At this moment, the streets of Tyroshi descended into chaos, people screaming and scattering in all directions.

"Murder!"

"Murder!"

The suddenness of this scene left many unable to react in time. Now, however, they came to their senses. Seeing the body on the ground, and the assassins with their sharp blades, pandemonium ensued. Screams of terror filled the air as they scattered in every direction.

"Move!"

"Move!"

The chaos on the street hindered Asha's escape on horseback. Now, with her speed reduced, she couldn't simply charge through, everywhere people, panicked and scrambling, blocked her way.

But this staunch Ironborn Princess was not one to dither. Gritting her teeth, she leapt from her horse, attempting to escape through the frenzied crowd on foot.

The chaos on the street that hindered Asha's escape naturally also obstructed the pursuing masked mercenaries.

"Move!"

But they were not as civilized as Asha. Seeing her abandon her horse and vanish into the crowd, they grew anxious.

"Don't let her escape!"

The masked mercenaries, infuriated to see Asha disappear, drew their blades and began slashing at the Tyroshi commoners and slaves in their path, hoping to cut a bloody path through to find Asha.

However, the outcome was not as the mercenary leader expected. Their wanton slashing induced even greater panic on the street, chaos ensued, and the situation became even murkier.

"Chase!"

"Chase her!"

Asha fled ahead, while the mercenaries, like hunting hounds, relentlessly pursued, seemingly unwilling to relent until she was dead.

Their mission was not to kill an Ironborn, but to target the emissary of the Iron Throne. If they couldn't kill her, killing others would be meaningless.

"Move!"

"Move!"

The enemies chased her mercilessly for gold or greater gains, while Asha ran for her life, naturally investing every ounce of her will.

"Hu~"

"Hu~"

The dark-haired woman panted lightly, then reached out to grasp a small cart selling oysters, clams, and cockles by the roadside.

"Give it to me!"

She shoved the seafood vendor aside, pushing him to the ground, this innocent vendor who had no idea what was happening was pushed into a squat, falling heavily onto the floor.

"Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?"

Splash—

Asha didn't pay him any mind, immediately flipping the cart over with a crash, the overturned cart blocking the road, the stench of seawater and scattered shells instantly pervading, used to obstruct the enemies' pursuit.

The dark-haired woman fled ahead, the killers relentlessly chasing her, and Asha swiftly turned into a small alley, hoping to use the complex terrain to shake them off.

However, at this moment, an inconspicuous door in the alley suddenly opened unexpectedly.

Inside was a tall man, his face unclear due to the dim, unlit interior. He reached out for Asha, his movements swift, accurate, and ruthless, catching Asha off guard.

"Come in!"

He directly grabbed Asha's wrist, pulling her into the room, then heavily shut the door.

Chapter 676: A Helping Hand

Asha, caught off guard, was suddenly pulled into a dim room by a man, her heart racing. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for a faint glow from the far end, rendering it impossible for her to discern his features.

Quickly, she tightened her grip on her weapon and demanded, "Who are you—"

"You—"

"Silence!"

The man, standing before her, released his hold on Asha. His voice, deep and commanding, cut her off.

Asha, the fierce Ironborn Princess, was momentarily stunned into silence, her face a mask of disbelief. The man's voice was familiar to her, reminiscent of times long past.

"You…"

His grip had been strong, almost bruising, evidenced by the reddening marks on her wrist. A theory formed in Asha's mind about his identity, but it seemed too audacious. Even she found it hard to believe.

Yet, recalling his earlier words and the deadly pursuers behind her, Asha chose caution, biting back any further questions.

However, at that moment, the sounds of chaos echoed from the alley outside. Clearly, her assailants had caught up.

"Where is that wench?"

The masked mercenaries chasing Asha were evidently well-acquainted with the labyrinthine streets of Tyrosh. While some had pursued her doggedly, others had circled around, planning to trap her again.

If they succeeded this time, even if Asha possessed the fighting prowess of the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne, escape would be impossible.

Yet, the mercenaries now seemed bewildered. Asha had vanished right under their noses!

"What?"

"How can this be?"

"Where is she?"

The mercenaries' leader, his anger palpable even beneath his mask, barked at his subordinates.

"How should I know?"

But they were as clueless as he, having not sighted Asha during their pursuit.

"Did the wench sprout wings and fly away?!"

His sarcasm was evident, but all present understood that Asha couldn't have vanished into thin air. Their suspicion turned to the houses lining the alley.

"She had help! Search every house!"

"Quickly! The city guards will be here any moment!"

In anticipation of their operation, they had bribed a captain of the Tyroshi city guard. Tyrosh, known for its avarice, would even sell its ruler's position to the highest bidder—if the price was right.

But there was a limit to this corruption. They had paid handsomely for a window of time, but it was running out. They hadn't expected Asha and her Ironborn protector to put up such resistance, and now they found themselves in a precarious situation.

The leader's face, though obscured by his mask, was visibly livid. The mercenaries knew the price of failure and began to search for Asha Greyjoy with renewed vigor.

"Open up!"

"Open up!"

Boom—

Boom—

They went from door to door, forcefully breaking in. Inside one of the houses, Asha's heart raced once again.

"What do we do now?"

However, the man remained silent, gripping a massive axe hidden behind the door.

Suddenly, shouts of conflict erupted outside. The Tyroshi guards, albeit belatedly, had arrived.

The news of the Iron Throne's emissary being attacked had reached the palace of the ruler of Tyrosh, who immediately ordered protection for Asha. An attack on an emissary from the Iron Throne in broad daylight would spell certain war.

Tyrosh, being the closest city-state to Westeros, was vulnerable. The Iron Throne didn't even need to deploy from Westeros; the forces stationed in Pentos could easily subjugate the island city-state.

So, when the Tyroshi guards appeared, Asha and her mysterious savior knew they were safe.

The tall, broad-shouldered man put down his axe and lit a candle, banishing the darkness. As the flickering light illuminated his face, Asha recognized him instantly.

The audacious theory she had earlier was proven true, and the words tumbled out of her mouth without hesitation.

"Uncle!"

The chapter concludes with a playful remark that could be interpreted as, "The alarm didn't ring. Overslept, overslept."

Chapter 677: Victarion

Standing before Asha and rescuing her from peril was none other than her uncle, Victarion.

Time had aged him, his once dark hair now streaked with gray, indicating that the recent years hadn't been kind to him. He had weathered countless storms.

Yet, the once-undefeated captain of the Iron Fleet's "Ironseed" still maintained his imposing stature and powerful arms.

Crow's feet crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he gazed at his niece, letting out a deep sigh.

"Asha."

To Asha, the fact that her Uncle Victarion was still alive was the greatest surprise.

Victarion had always been her father Balon's most loyal follower. He had never defied his elder brother's commands, holding him in the highest esteem, bordering on reverence.

In their youth, Victarion had been kind to both Asha and young Theon, and to their brothers Rodrik and Maron. He often took them out to sea and played with them. Tragically, both Rodrik and Maron were slain when the armies of the Iron Throne stormed Pyke.

Back then, a heartbroken Victarion had bid farewell to his younger brother Theon, who had been sent to Winterfell as both a ward and a hostage. Theon was too young to remember, but Asha had shed countless tears in his absence.

However, when the White Walkers began their invasion, Balon Greyjoy believed they couldn't cross the seas and decided to watch the events unfold from the sidelines. But to his shock, the White Walkers ambushed Blacktyde Island by boat.

Disbelieving, Balon sent Victarion with a fleet to investigate Blacktyde. From that moment, Victarion and his fleet, along with the Ironseed, vanished without a trace.

Asha had assumed that her uncle had perished, or had turned into one of the undead, just like her father Balon.

But to her astonishment, here was Victarion, very much alive and in Tyrosh.

"Uncle, how can this be?!"

Asha, overwhelmed with emotion, grabbed Victarion's shoulders, seeking answers.

After a brief embrace, Asha let go, again seeking clarity on the same burning question. She was desperate to know what had befallen Victarion over the years.

The formidable former commander of the Iron Fleet shook his head, sighed, and began his tale.

"In short…"

Victarion recounted his escape from Blacktyde Island, detailing the numerous challenges he had faced.

When he had gone to Blacktyde on his brother's orders, his fleet was ambushed by the White Walkers. Cunning and seemingly intelligent, the White Walkers decimated Victarion's forces, sinking most of their ships in the icy waters.

Victarion had fought valiantly till the very end, but was nearly killed by a distinctive White Walker – a gray-haired female wielding an icy bow and arrow. With no options left, he leaped into the sea.

Assuming he would meet his end, he was unexpectedly rescued by a merchant ship flying the banner of a Tyrosh trading company.

He wanted to return to the Iron Islands to warn his people, but the ship's captain informed him of a price for his life. Victarion was now a slave.

He lifted his tangled hair, revealing a scar on his face – a mark of slavery in Tyrosh.

The Tyrosh trading company had seen value in Victarion's strength. Such slaves fetched high prices, especially in the fighting pits of cities like Meereen and Yunkai.

Victarion had indeed been sold to a slave trader in Meereen. After countless battles, he emerged as a champion in the fighting pits, earning his master a fortune.

Having elevated his status, Victarion seized an opportunity to escape, murdering his master in the process. He became a wanted man, and eventually found passage back to Tyrosh.

Fresh from his journeys, he had learned of Asha's visit to Tyrosh as the commander of the Iron Throne's fleet.

Chapter 678: Control of the Port

The Iron Throne's envoy faced an assassination attempt by a group of desperadoes on the streets of Tyrosh. Several of the envoy's attendants were slain in broad daylight, and the envoy herself narrowly escaped death.

This event, without a doubt, had the magnitude to shake the very foundations of the political landscape.

The ruler of Tyrosh was incensed, demanding a thorough investigation into the matter.

Asha, who had narrowly escaped death in the heart of Tyrosh, was even more infuriated. She lamented the loss of the loyal men who once served her father, now lying dead on Tyroshi streets.

Had it not been for her Uncle Victarion's timely intervention in Tyrosh, Asha would have met her end.

So, when the fiery Ironborn princess returned to her fleet, she immediately ordered the Targaryen fleet to mobilize. They swiftly secured the Tyroshi port, prohibiting anyone from entering or leaving. She demanded an explanation from the Tyroshi ruler and the apprehension of the culprits.

With an unexpected show of might, the Targaryen naval soldiers easily dominated the port. The Tyroshi defense force, low in morale, quickly surrendered, laying down their arms. The port, once flying the banners of Tyrosh, now displayed the three-headed dragon of the Iron Throne.

However, not long after the Targaryens took control, Tyrosh's elite mercenary corps arrived.

The tension in the harbor city-state escalated rapidly. Both sides stood defiantly, with weapons drawn, ready for battle. The local residents, anxious and fearful, shut themselves in, avoiding the streets to prevent becoming collateral damage.

The ruler of Tyrosh was in a quandary. The Iron Throne's envoy being attacked on his streets was a stain on his governance.

While it seemed evident to discerning eyes that there were deeper plots at play, likely aiming to sow discord between Tyrosh and the Iron Throne, the fact remained: this incident occurred on Tyroshi soil. Without concrete evidence to the contrary, the ruler found himself in an indefensible position.

Thus, he not only ordered a thorough investigation but also sought to appease the Iron Throne's envoy, urging her to relinquish control of the port.

However, Asha Greyjoy adamantly refused, demanding an explanation before she would consider lifting the blockade.

The standoff persisted from day into night. The Targaryen fleet continued its stranglehold on the port, allowing neither entry nor exit.

Numerous merchant ships awaited entry into the city, while within, countless goods piled up, waiting to be shipped worldwide.

Yet, fearing the eruption of full-scale war, the Tyroshi didn't dare challenge the Targaryen fleet.

But in a shocking turn of events, an unexpected incident took place in Tyroshi prison.

During the day's chaos, several prisoners had been captured. The ruler demanded answers at any cost, threatening to rip out their nails for information.

However, as the interrogation was about to commence, the prisoners' throats suddenly constricted, their faces turning a horrific shade of purple. Blood gushed from their orifices, and they died.

All evidence was now lost, leaving the ruler of Tyrosh sleepless and enraged.

In his heart, he felt this was a setup, designed to instigate conflict between the Iron Throne and Tyrosh.

The attack on the Iron Throne's envoy, the delay of the guards, and now the sudden deaths of the captured assailants in prison – it all seemed too convenient. Even the ruler began to doubt his own innocence.

As dawn approached, with bloodshot eyes from a sleepless night, the Tyroshi ruler ordered an exhaustive search for the masked mercenaries that had escaped during the day. However, the search yielded little.

Yet, they managed to apprehend the culprit behind the poisoning in the prison. He was a jailer who had been bribed with a significant sum of gold to poison the prisoners' water supply.

During a brutal interrogation, the jailer spilled everything. He described the man who had bribed him: not particularly tall, with a foreign accent resembling that of Volantis, and marked with flame-like tattoos on his cheeks.

Regarding the poison, he was clueless.

Chapter 679: The Myrish Affair

"The Strangler."

"It's clearly the work of the Strangler."

After a night of turmoil in the Tyrrosi dungeons, some leads were finally unearthed.

A silver-haired elder, leaning heavily on his cane, spoke.

While the Free City of Tyrros may not have maesters as Westeros does, it boasts skilled healers. This elder was the foremost physician in Tyrros, with a deep knowledge of poisons.

He was summoned by the Lord of Tyrros to identify the exact poison that had claimed the lives of the prisoners. Upon his arrival, he instantly recognized the effects of a potent poison, the Strangler.

The Strangler's distinctiveness lies in the victim's face turning a deep purple, as if they'd been choked or suffocated to death. Hence the name.

However, the Strangler differs from other poisons in that it causes profuse bleeding from all orifices, making death by its hand particularly gruesome.

"The Strangler is expensive to produce. It's derived from a plant found only in the Jade Islands, half a world away."

"Its leaves must be aged, then soaked in lime water, sweet syrup, and rare spices from the Summer Isles. The leaves are then discarded, and ashes are added to the concoction, allowing it to crystallize."

"The process is slow and complex, requiring costly ingredients. Hence, the Strangler doesn't come cheap."

"Many in this world can produce the Strangler, including the alchemists of Lys, the Faceless Men of Braavos, and the maesters of the Citadel in Westeros."

The elderly man's voice trembled as he shared all he knew. He then bowed and retreated.

The Tyrrosi dungeons were brightly lit. Guards held torches aloft, stationed at every corner.

The recent events had the high lords of Tyrros on edge, increasing their personal security for fear of sudden assassination attempts like what Lady Asha Greyjoy had endured.

The torches flickered, casting shadows on the faces of those present. Lord Tyrros and the envoy from the Iron Throne, Asha Greyjoy, convened in the dungeon, discussing the recent events calmly.

After a night's reflection and consultation with her uncle, Asha had largely ruled out Lord Tyrros as a suspect.

It would be madness for him to harm an envoy of the Iron Throne on his own turf. Such a blatant act would surely spark war.

However, there was another possibility: Lord Tyrros could be playing a dangerous game, eliminating Asha and framing another, hoping to pit the Iron Throne against a mutual enemy.

Still, Asha accepted his invitation, but this time she was accompanied by over a hundred guards.

"Envoy Greyjoy, as you've heard,"

"These criminals died from the Strangler."

Lord Tyrros listened intently to the elderly poison expert and then, with a notable shift in his demeanor from their previous encounter, addressed Asha.

During their first meeting, Lord Tyrros had been rather brusque. But now, impressed by Asha's decisive actions and strength, he regarded her with newfound respect.

"It's clear there's a conspiracy afoot."

"Someone seeks to drive a wedge between Tyrros and His Grace, King Viserys."

Invoking the name of King Viserys, Lord Tyrros's tone grew reverential.

"I suspect Lys and Volantis are behind this."

"Lysene alchemists are well-known for their skill with poisons."

"And, given their vested interests in the disputed territories, both Lys and Tyrros desire the support of King Viserys's formidable army."

"If you, Envoy Greyjoy, were to perish in Tyrros, it would undoubtedly strain relations between us and the Iron Throne, possibly leading to war. Lys would stand to benefit."

While the evidence seemed compelling, Asha and her entourage still harbored doubts. The testimonies and Lord Tyrros's assurances painted a picture of a conspiracy, with Lys and Volantis as the probable beneficiaries.

But upon her return to the port, Asha ordered the blockade of Tyrros lifted.

At that moment, news from Myr spread like wildfire through the streets of Tyrros.

The Pirate Lord of Myr, under the guise of peace talks, had brazenly attacked and slain two rival lords in broad daylight. His pirates now controlled the newly reconstructed city of Myr.

Coincidentally, this event transpired just as Asha had ordered the blockade.

Chapter 680: The Direwolf of the Tundra

The Iron Throne's fleet embarked on a journey eastward, causing upheaval in the world of the free trade city-states.

Power struggles, chaos, schemes, and a storm brewing—dark currents were everywhere.

Yet, beyond this human realm, stripped of these conflicts and machinations, lay a land of biting cold, a primal boundary between life and death.

In this terrestrial hell, power plays seemed a frivolous game. The only eternal battle was between the living and the dead.

Whooosh~ The icy winds howled, carrying with them blinding snowstorms that snuffed out all life, save for some hardy pine trees and creatures adapted to the cold.

Shuffle, shuffle A direwolf, its coat as white as snow, looked gaunt, clearly starved for days. Its crimson eyes shone brightly as it treaded a path through the snow.

Climbing atop a large boulder, it let out a mournful, long howl.

Hooooo—

This albinistic direwolf cried out, simultaneously summoning and seeking its few remaining kin.

The vast tundra north of the Wall used to be their territory. Even the Free Folk dared not venture too deep, lest they lose their way, succumb to frost, hunger, or become prey for the direwolves.

But then, amidst the blinding storm, a subtle sound pierced through.

Shh. Shh. The noise, deliberate and unhurried, immediately put the direwolf on high alert.

Perched on the boulder, its head held high, the chilling wind ruffling its snowy fur, its scarlet eyes fixed intently on the source of the noise, a low growl emanating from its throat.

It hoped its howl might've attracted a companion. Yet, it also feared that the call might draw in the monstrous creatures.

For a creature with the simple intellect of a direwolf, it couldn't comprehend what the White Walkers and wights were. But it could distinguish a foul stench, a scent that drove men and beasts mad, even intimidating the top predators of the tundra.

Shuffle, shuffle The steady noise drew closer. The direwolf whined softly, lowering its head.

Feeling an impending danger, it still chose not to flee, clinging to a glimmer of hope.

To its dismay, emerging from the storm was a skeletal horse, half its body exposed bone, and glimpses of its rotted yellow-black fur visible under the snow.

Astride this skeletal steed sat a knight cloaked in black. His attire tattered, bearing marks of a fierce battle, a longsword hung by his side.

His face, as cold as the blue ice, showed no signs of life, his eyes a piercing shade of blue.

He noticed the white direwolf atop the boulder and simply gazed at it.

The direwolf, sensing an enemy, tensed up, its fur bristling, emitting a threatening growl.

Growl—

From its years of wandering alone, it knew beings with those blue eyes and putrid smell weren't to be trifled with. They'd lunge at any sign of life, forcing even the apex predators of the tundra to flee in fear.

Yet, something changed. The direwolf's growl faded, its posture relaxing, its red eyes showing evident confusion.

The knight, unlike the other wights, didn't rush at the sight of flesh. Instead, he simply held the reins of his skeletal horse, watching the direwolf intently, neither advancing nor retreating.

Whine~

The two—man and wolf—locked eyes for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, the direwolf let out another howl and, surprisingly, approached the knight.

Swish~

The knight's icy blue eyes flickered momentarily. Dismounting his steed, he extended a hand towards the direwolf.

Whine~

The direwolf descended from the boulder, letting out another soft growl. This time, though, there was no menace in its tone, but rather a sense of familiarity.

It circled the knight a few times, even sniffing him as if discerning a particular scent.

The knight watched as the direwolf circled him, showing no fear. He tried to pet the creature, but the wolf dodged nimbly.

Though the knight's scent seemed familiar, the direwolf disliked any being touching its head.

"Come with me," the knight uttered in a voice as harsh as grinding blades, so different from what he remembered.

The direwolf's eyes showed confusion initially, unsure of the knight's words.

But as the knight spoke again, sincerity evident in his frosty blue gaze, the direwolf seemed to understand.

Yet, it didn't respond. It simply sniffed the knight's outstretched hand once more.

Then, turning its back, it walked away, swiftly vanishing into the snowstorm.

Chapter 681: UPDATED Chapter 681: White Walker Benjen

The white direwolf departed without looking back. The knight in black watched its silhouette vanish into the blizzard, feeling a weight in his heart, before slowly rising to his feet.

This knight in black was none other than Benjen Stark, who had recently left the Wall. Alone, he ventured beyond the Wall in pursuit of the White Walkers, hoping to find his sister, Lyanna Stark.

However, the dangers beyond the Wall were even more treacherous than before. The seasoned Chief Ranger of the Night's Watch encountered peril within a day.

He was caught in a snowstorm and sought shelter to rest for the night. But upon reaching the wildling village closest to the Wall, Whitetree, he was suddenly ambushed by wights.

Outnumbered, Benjen fought valiantly, eliminating all the wights. Yet, he collapsed in front of the massive weirwood in Whitetree, losing consciousness.

Time passed, and when Benjen opened his eyes again, the wights he had slain were gone. He lay alone beneath the weirwood.

At first, Benjen thought he had narrowly escaped death. However, he soon realized a chilling truth— he no longer felt the cold.

He discovered that his body had lost all warmth, becoming icy cold. His skin had turned a ghastly blue, devoid of any human warmth or color.

For the first time, the Chief Ranger felt an unprecedented fear. He found a clear patch of ice, wiped away the snow, and looked at his reflection.

Benjen saw his familiar face, but with icy blue eyes.

Had he truly died and become a wight?

The knight in black sat beneath the weirwood in Whitetree, taking most of the day to come to terms with his situation.

After much internal struggle, he accepted his fate and resisted the urge to end his life.

He sat motionless for hours, yet felt no cold. If he were still human, the harsh conditions beyond the Wall would have frozen him by now.

But now, Benjen felt nothing. He hadn't eaten or drunk for what felt like ages, yet felt no hunger or thirst.

He realized one advantage of being a wight: he could move freely beyond the Wall, unaffected by its harshest conditions.

He no longer felt the biting cold, nor did he need to search for food.

The only price he paid was his life. Although no longer among the living, his allegiance remained unchanged. Even as one of the dead, he was still willing to fight for the living.

However, a question lingered in Benjen's mind: Why was he still conscious?

He remembered the army of the dead, mindlessly charging at the living under the command of the White Walkers. Most wights should lack consciousness, or many would still fight for the living.

Yet, Benjen felt no different from when he was alive. He remembered his name, his mission, and still had control over his actions.

Was he an exception?

This thought plagued the Chief Ranger.

Perhaps he had forgotten much more than he realized, and his perceived control was just an illusion.

Lost in thought, Benjen decided not to return to the Wall and face his brother Eddard, fearing Edd might kill him on sight.

Instead, he continued his mission, venturing further north. Using his new identity to his advantage, he tracked the White Walkers, hoping to find his sister, Lyanna Stark.

With determination, Benjen, known for his decisive nature, set forth.

Before long, he was reunited with his loyal steed, a horse he had ridden into many battles beyond the Wall. However, the horse had also turned into a skeletal steed. Fortunately, it still recognized its master.

Initially, the skeletal horse resisted, attempting to bite Benjen. But once he took hold of its reins and stroked its mane, it calmed down, allowing him to mount.

Together, man and steed ventured into the snowy expanse. After what felt like days, having passed the Fist of the First Men and nearing the Gorge, Benjen encountered a lone direwolf.

He had hoped to travel with the majestic creature, but the proud wolf king declined. Despite the loss of its pack, it did not need a human companion.

The direwolf could continue wandering the vast icy plains or face death head-on.

After the direwolf's departure, Benjen mounted his steed and continued northward.

However, within half a day, he faced another unexpected situation.

But this time, Benjen's heart wasn't calm; it burned with intensity.

For he had encountered a White Walker.

The White Walker, like Benjen, rode a skeletal horse. Its reins were chains covered in frost, clinking with every step, standing out starkly against the snowy night.

Benjen noticed the White Walker and halted his steed to observe. The white-haired White Walker clearly noticed him too.

But its cold gaze merely swept over Benjen, detecting no threat.

The White Walker continued on its path, disappearing into the blizzard.

Chapter 682: The Land of Eternal Winter

The vast expanse of snow blanketed the earth, the sun having disappeared for an indeterminable amount of time. As Ban Yang ventured further north, every step became more arduous.

"Perhaps if I weren't a wight now, I would have frozen to death," he mused.

Riding his skeletal steed, Ban Yang trailed behind a White Walker with long white hair. He pondered how long he'd been following this creature – a day? Two? Maybe three.

Time had become elusive. Perhaps being a wight had dulled his mind, or maybe the monotonous snowy landscape had numbed his senses. Yet, a driving purpose remained: finding his sister, Lai Anna Stark. This thought revitalized Ban Yang's spirit as he shadowed the White Walker.

At first, the mere sight of the creature filled him with trepidation. But when the White Walker glanced at him, only to disregard his presence, Ban Yang's perspective shifted. He truly grasped his new identity - he was no longer living. The creature didn't view him as a human; Ban Yang had successfully maintained his ruse. Seizing the opportunity, he urged his horse forward, tracking the Walker with renewed determination.

For Ban Yang, wandering aimlessly across the vast icy plains was not an option. He needed a clear objective, and the White Walker was it. He believed that by following this creature, he would eventually find his sister, and perhaps even the Night King.

Lost in these thoughts, Ban Yang's mind wandered to a towering figure from his past, standing outside Winterfell amidst a snowstorm. A wave of melancholy washed over him as he instinctively touched a bulge at his waist. Always one to be prepared, he had brought along an obsidian dagger, rumored to be lethal to White Walkers. If need be, he was willing to sacrifice himself for a greater cause.

But first, he needed to locate his sister Lai Anna and approach the Night King without arousing suspicion.

"The eyes of the Ice Dragon."

After an indeterminate period, the skies darkened, and the biting winds subsided, allowing Ban Yang to gaze upwards. The sky was pristine, dominated by the image of a sinuous Ice Dragon. Its icy blue eyes pointed north, while its tail indicated the south. It was customary for those in the North and beyond the Wall to use the Ice Dragon constellation for navigation, its eyes and tail serving as guides.

He turned his gaze forward, where the sky wasn't dark but rather lit with a myriad of colors, reminiscent of gemstones scattered across the horizon.

"It's breathtaking."

He knew he was heading north, but the map he carried no longer detailed these territories. This was uncharted land, a place never before reached by any member of the Night's Watch in its long history. Only one name was attributed to it: The Land of Eternal Winter, a forbidden zone for the living.

While Ban Yang journeyed into this perilous land, far to the south in the heart of the newly rebuilt Valyrian Empire, the capital city of King's Landing buzzed with life. News of the Empire's establishment had spread through raven and messenger, and Westeros and regions as distant as Pentos and Andalos now recognized the Empire's name in official documents.

The restructuring from the freehold system to an empire naturally required a capital. This question had been debated at length, but ultimately, with the majority of the council members hailing from Westeros, King's Landing was chosen as the political epicenter, while Pentos, a significant economic hub, was designated as the secondary capital.

However, the return of the Emperor on dragonback, bearing the body of the Prime Minister Jon Clinton, caused a stir in King's Landing. The audacity of Dorne was the subject of much debate, leading to speculations of a looming war. Some wondered if the Emperor would set aside his Dornish queen or even strip Prince Oberyn of his military powers.

With Oberyn's forces stationed at the Kingswood, there was an undercurrent of unease among the populace, despite the formidable defenses of King's Landing.

The untimely demise of the Prime Minister on the battlefield meant that the search for his successor was on everyone's mind.

Chapter 683: Soul Connection

Upon the Emperor's return, much to the disappointment of those who relished in the drama, he exhibited no wrathful retaliation against Dorne's defiance.

He neither dismissed his Dornish queen nor doubted the loyalty of Oberyn, who had been by his side since their humble beginnings. The return of Viserys to King's Landing brought with him the body of the Hand of the King, Jon Clinton, sequestering both within the confines of the Red Keep. Such was the respect for Jon that not even the council members were permitted to view his remains.

Rumors initially questioned the authenticity of Jon's death. Still, testimonies soon emerged from the palace, confirming the tragedy. Servants claimed to have witnessed Jon's body, its surface layered with frost, appearing as if he were merely asleep.

Many spectators, initially disappointed, assumed that Emperor Viserys had become weak, fearing a conflict reminiscent of Aegon's failed invasion of Dorne. However, these assumptions were shattered when news reached King's Landing of dragons burning Sunspear, obliterating the honorable houses of Fowler, Uller, and Cogar from existence. This act silenced the rumors and sent a chill down many spines.

Rumor had it that Viserys, instead of marching to Sunspear, sent a raven to the Water Gardens, demanding Prince Doran to explain himself before the Iron Throne. Stricken with gout and having not left the Water Gardens for years, Doran hesitated upon receiving the summons. Eventually, he decided to heed the Emperor's command and set sail for Blackwater Bay from Sunspear.

Deep within the dungeons of the Red Keep, an eerie silence prevailed. Once a resting place for dragon bones during the Baratheon reign, now Viserys secluded himself here, alongside Jon Clinton's coffin. A servant, during a rare food delivery, claimed to have glimpsed this scene. Although Viserys now required minimal sustenance, he maintained human habits.

In the dimly lit chamber, Viserys, silver hair illuminated by flickering torchlight, held a fluctuating black mist in his hand. Before him lay Jon's coffin, flanked by a faceless stone statue.

"Melisandre, what must I do?" Viserys inquired, glancing at the nebulous mist, then tilting his head slightly.

With no one else in the dungeon, his voice echoed hauntingly. To an onlooker, it would seem as though the Emperor conversed with thin air, perhaps solidifying rumors of the Targaryen madness gene.

However, the outsiders were oblivious to the mist in Viserys' palm and the voice emanating from the statue. Melisandre's calm voice instructed, "Use your spiritual power to connect with this soul, and envelop it with the fire of faith."

"Be gentle."

Viserys' spiritual power, having absorbed the power of the Old Gods, was now god-like. Jon's spirit trembled at its immense presence, akin to an ant beholding a giant elephant. Melisandre's caution was meant to prevent Jon's soul from shattering upon contact.

Viserys, relieved he had resisted his earlier curiosities, cautiously greeted the restless soul, "Jon?"

The black mist shuddered further, its hue darkening before a flabbergasted response emerged, "Your Grace?!"

Jon's soul had been in a daze, his last memory being his heroic charge into Sunspear, only to be felled by an unsuspecting arrow. Filled with regret, he had departed the mortal realm, leaving behind his newlywed wife, Beth Bracken, and their unborn child. The union of the Clinton and Bracken families had been sanctioned by Emperor Viserys, who even attended their wedding. Now, Beth, pregnant with the heir to Castle Clinton, resided in King's Landing.

Jon's soul had been naturally drawn to Viserys due to some mystical trait, only to be reawakened by him.

"At the moment, you're merely a soul," Viserys assured him. "Jon, what did you see on the other side?"

Viserys' question rendered Jon silent.

Chapter 684: Two Choices

"Nothing lies beyond, Your Grace."

Jon Clinton remained silent for a long while before shaking his head and speaking.

He struggled to find the right words to describe it. After a long pause, he finally uttered the closest term.

"Utter darkness."

"Void."

Jon Clinton had indeed journeyed to that realm, but the sensation was beyond mere words. He could only convey so much to Viserys.

"Void?"

For Viserys, this was the first time he'd spoken with someone who had died and then returned. Naturally, he was intrigued.

Hearing Jon's words, a hint of speculation crossed Viserys's mind, his brows relaxing slightly.

"Perhaps there is no 'beyond,' Your Grace."

"I just felt engulfed in darkness."

Jon Clinton struggled to describe his experience after death, his words caught in his throat.

Viserys, after listening, chose to remain silent. He believed Jon had no reason to deceive him on this matter, so he felt no need to press further.

"What should I do next?"

"Miraxys?"

Under the dim glow of the campfire, a silver-haired youth sitting at the center of the Red Keep's dungeon shifted his pale purple eyes towards a statue on the ground.

Only then did Jon Clinton notice the third presence in the dungeon: a faceless statue, silently watching him. A chilling sensation rose within him. He had never believed in the tales of spirits and deities, but his own death had opened his eyes.

Of the three in the room, he felt the weakest. When Viserys first awakened him, Jon had witnessed such immense spiritual power that he almost believed he was in the presence of the Seven Gods. Thinking of this, Jon shook his head in self-mockery.

He had served as the Hand of the King for many years, thinking he knew Viserys better than anyone. But now he realized the king was far more mysterious than he'd ever imagined.

Suddenly, Viserys spoke, prompting a moment of silence before a woman's voice answered from within the statue.

"What happens next, I do not know."

"You don't?"

"Why didn't you say so sooner?"

Upon hearing this, Viserys's brow furrowed again.

"Because collecting souls is not within Miraxys's domain. Have you forgotten her title?"

Miraxys was a deity of the Valyrian pantheon, known as the Sea God. Her full title was "Lord of the Raging Oceans," governing the seas and storms.

According to Archmaester Marwyn, a scholar of Valyrian history, Valyrian sailors once prayed to Miraxys for calm seas before setting out.

"Belerion is the god of death, responsible for gathering the souls of the deceased."

"Be it from natural causes, illness, wars, etc., all souls are under his control."

"He is the ultimate end of all life on this Valyrian land."

Miraxys explained calmly, detailing the role of the god of death.

However, as Viserys listened, he felt an increasing sense of familiarity. Wasn't his ability to absorb souls similar to Belerion's duties?

"Where did the Valyrian god of death go?"

Viserys's voice held a hint of urgency. But no answer came from the statue.

"I'm sorry."

Viserys took a deep breath and waved dismissively, realizing he had been somewhat hasty.

Miraxys had mentioned before that she wasn't sure what had transpired, how the powerful Valyrian gods had been defeated so easily.

She was but a small fragment of consciousness within the statue.

"You need to remain calm."

Miraxys then slowly spoke.

"There's undoubtedly a hidden secret within you. I understand that. But your progress has been swift. You need to pause and reflect upon the past."

Miraxys wasn't certain of the secrets within Viserys, but she believed that for a mortal to come this far, there must be some providence at play. Her kind reminder brought clarity to Viserys's mind.

"If resurrection isn't possible, what should be done with Jon's soul?"

"I know of two methods."

Miraxys, noting Viserys's composure, began to explain.

"The first is to become a wandering spirit like me, drawing sustenance from the faith burning within you."

"He won't be able to control his deceased body and cannot stray far from you."

"But being a spirit has its advantages. He can still offer wise counsel, help uncover secrets, or even possess other living beings."

A spectral advisor? A guardian spirit?

Viserys pondered the idea, likening it to having a protective spirit. Such a being could live indefinitely, drawing from souls, as long as Viserys's divine flame continued to burn.

"And the second method?"

Viserys considered for a moment, then inquired.

"Rebirth."

"Bring a pregnant woman, yet to give birth, and transfer his soul into her."

"A fetus gestating within a mother is a new life being formed. The unborn child hasn't developed its own soul, allowing Jon's soul to take its place."

"Isn't reincarnation possible?"

Both options seemed imperfect. Viserys turned to look at the soul of Jon in his palm. Jon's wife was expecting their child, making this method a possible choice.

"Reincarnation?"

Miraxys paused, trying to grasp Viserys's meaning, but soon understood.

"There's no reincarnation."

"Each newborn is a fresh soul. Those who die will eventually fade away."

"Is that so?"

Viserys seemed contemplative.

Miraxys wasn't omniscient. She only knew parts of the truth, which he understood.

If all souls faded, it wouldn't explain how the Ice God revived the ancient Kings of the North. By rights, their souls, spanning thousands of years, should have vanished long ago.

However, Viserys didn't voice these thoughts. Instead, he once again focused on Jon's soul, deciding to let him make the choice.

Would he choose to be a wandering spirit or start a new life?

Chapter 685: The Funeral

The death of the Hand of the King in Dorne was no small matter.

However, the Dornish rebellion had been quelled. All the culprits involved had been justly punished, bringing solace to the departed and some comfort to their grieving loved ones.

A few days later, a gentle rain drizzled.

The streets of King's Landing were washed clean by the rain. In front of the Red Keep's gates, two groups of mourners stood, their expressions somber. In the center lay a grand and elaborate coffin.

Inside rested the body of the former Hand, Jon Clinton. Lady Beth of House Brecken, Jon's pregnant widow, stood under an umbrella, tears streaming down her face.

After Viserys's ascension to the Valyrian throne, Arianne, now elevated to Empress, wore a solemn gown, standing gracefully under her umbrella. On her chest, she proudly bore the Targaryen sigil. By local customs, after marriage, she could be considered part of her husband's house.

Thus, Arianne could be referred to as Arianne Targaryen or Arianne Nymeros Martell.

At this moment, the dignified Empress stood by the young lady, softly comforting her.

Lady Beth Clinton appeared youthful. Her swollen belly indicated her recent adulthood, having been married off to the Hand, Jon Clinton, under her uncle's arrangement.

It was a favorable match. Beth wasn't dismayed by the age difference, as Jon, though twice her age, was still in his prime, not some feeble old man. And as the Hand and Governor of the Stormlands, Jon's position was powerful. Had it not been for Beth's uncle, Lord Jeffrey Brecken, the Master of Ships and Governor of the Riverlands, Jon might not have even considered her.

Jon, with his traditional values, didn't seek a dazzling beauty. He needed a wife of matching status, capable of continuing his lineage. Beth was the ideal choice.

As the Empress, Arianne took on her duties, holding the young woman's hand, offering gentle words of solace.

Conversations between women often led to quicker emotional connections.

On the other side, Viserys, clad in a somber attire, stood next to Jon Clinton's coffin, the metallic emblem on his chest reflecting the rain's gleam. Beside him were Oberyn, Varys, and others.

The Emperor stood without an umbrella, drenched in the rain. Aside from the Empress and the lady mourners, no one else dared open their umbrellas. They all bowed their heads, whether in genuine sorrow or mere pretense.

Before Jon Clinton's coffin, the Grand Septon of the Great Sept of Baelor and the Dean of the King's Landing Theological Academy stood. The rotund figure, crowned with a crystal diadem, placed a hand on the coffin's lid, mumbling words of eulogy, slightly panting.

Once the Grand Septon concluded his eulogy, Unsullied soldiers lifted Jon Clinton's coffin and placed it on a carriage.

"Prepare to depart!"

Following the call, the procession escorting Jon Clinton's remains officially left the Red Keep.

Viserys and the lords chose to mount their horses and carriages to follow the procession.

"I never thought Jon would meet his end in Dorne," Oberyn, still in his sandy-yellow robe, said, riding his black steed alongside Viserys.

It had been days since Viserys returned from Dorne. Yet, he'd locked himself in the Red Keep's dungeons, leaving Oberyn, among others, wondering.

"Hmm," Viserys replied, "Neither did I."

Viserys, Oberyn, Jon Clinton, and others were old comrades. They had ventured together in Essos, all tied to the Targaryen cause. Viserys was the driver of their metaphorical chariot, and these influential lords were its wheels—sharing in its glory and its falls.

Despite efforts from some to undermine the positions of stalwarts like Oberyn, Jon, and Barristan Selmy after the Seven Kingdoms were united, none succeeded. Viserys wasn't one to forget loyal friends. Even Ramsay Bolton, the universally disliked "Little Skinner," was justly rewarded.

Viserys and Oberyn, despite the rain, conversed like old friends, and onlookers envied their rapport.

"When my brother arrives in King's Landing, I'll let him know what he should do," Oberyn said, looking at a sniffling boy amongst the onlookers.

Prince Doran hadn't heeded Oberyn's warnings, leading to a major setback in Dorne. The Martells, known for their unyielding spirit, had their reputation tarnished. Doran was even traveling to King's Landing to atone. Oberyn was aware of his brother's impending arrival.

"Hmm," Viserys responded, raindrops trailing down his face. He gripped the reins and nodded, not saying much.

"Long live the Emperor!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd, oblivious to the somber occasion. The Unsullied and the City Watch promptly dispersed them.

Jon Clinton's remains were headed to the military academy on Rhaenys's Hill, where he would be laid to rest. His support for establishing various institutions in the city, and his myriad constructive suggestions during his tenure, made it one of his crowning achievements.

Thus, his burial in the King's Landing Military Academy held commemorative significance.

On the rain-washed streets, the sounds of hooves, carriage wheels, cheers, and reprimands intertwined, gradually fading into the vast curtain of rain.

Chapter 686: The Next Hand

"Oberyn wasn't involved in this matter."

"I believe Prince Doran isn't that foolish either."

Between Viserys and Oberyn, a spectral shadow floated. Jon Clinton gazed mournfully at his wife before settling his eyes on Oberyn.

Oberyn had been his friend. Although they once had a disagreement during a rebellion, Jon never denied their bond.

Now, Jon pondered whether things would have been smoother had Oberyn led the forces to quell the rebellion in Dorne. Given Oberyn's unique status as a Dornish prince, capturing traitors to the Iron Throne would have been a straightforward task. No Dornish House, except House Fowler, would dare oppose him, let alone harbor or protect them.

House Martell's prestige in Dorne was unparalleled. Perhaps they could've apprehended Franklin Fowler without shedding blood. Presented before King's Landing for judgment, considering his surrender, he might've even been given a chance to join the Night's Watch.

Wouldn't that have been a better solution?

No, it certainly wouldn't have been.

Jon knew that the core issue between Dorne and the Iron Throne was far deeper. Otherwise, Prince Doran, father-in-law to the Emperor, would not be so inscrutable.

This matter touched upon Dorne's fundamental interests, tantamount to conquering Dorne without a fight. The Martells wouldn't easily kneel, or their motto wouldn't be 'Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken'.

Jon's campaign, despite its challenges, showcased the martial strength of the Iron Throne, shattering the illusions of some Dornish nobles. If he had successfully retreated, the Dornish issue would have been resolved.

But, Jon had fallen on the battlefield, leading Viserys on a vengeful path of destruction. This disrupted the initial plans between Jon and Viserys.

"To witness one's funeral within one's lifetime," Jon mused, "I believe few have such a privilege."

His spirit, faint and wavering, lingered. Robb, an attendant beside Viserys, felt a sudden chill, an eerie breeze, and coldness on his nape.

"You are already dead," Viserys said, speaking to the void. "It isn't 'within one's lifetime' anymore."

Viserys still stood within the gardens of the Imperial Military Academy, enveloped in a light rain. Soldiers had dug a deep grave, laboring to move Jon's coffin from the carriage.

"Your Majesty? Whom are you speaking to?" A startled red-haired youth, feeling the chill, asked.

On the other side, Empress Arianne, holding Lady Beth's hand, alighted from a carriage. Observing the men, she sensed ambitious individuals stirring after Jon's sudden demise in Dorne. The selection of the next Hand was bound to be bloody.

"Don't grieve, dear sister. Look on the bright side. Thankfully, you carry Lord Clinton's heir, ensuring the legacy of Storm's End," Arianne consoled Beth.

...

"We all mourn Lord Jon's death, Your Majesty," Varys, the Master of Whispers, wearing his vast robe, approached Viserys. Soldiers, chanting in unison, lowered Jon's heavy coffin into the grave. An accident caused one to slip into the watery pit, but he was unharmed.

"Lord Oberyn," Varys greeted and continued, "The position of the Hand is paramount, the emperor's right hand, the empire's chief counselor. I regret bringing this up now, but who do you consider suitable for the role?"

After Jon's unexpected death, the seat of the Hand was vacant. Many, including the Minister of Agriculture, Alistair Florent, began vying for the position. Alistair, with the backing of House Tyrell, considered himself experienced enough to aid the king.

Other governors, like the commander of the Golden Company, Mys Toyn, and Yara Greyjoy of the Iron Islands, also threw their hats into the ring. Some voices in King's Landing even called for the return of previous Hands.

However, the choices were divided: a highly experienced but aged candidate and the unpopular Dornish prince. The voices of support were fragmented.

Among these, Mys Toyn was a likely choice. Although a sellsword by origin, he was a rightful heir to House Toyn. Honest and just, he had led the Golden Company with unity and strength. Jon and Mys had been close allies during their wanderings in Essos.

Chapter 687: UPDATED Chapter 687: Varys

Varys posed a straightforward question. Oberyn, standing in the rain on the other side, turned to face Varys.

He didn't mind wearing the Hand of the King's badge again. However, given the current King's Landing's aversion to the Dornish, it might stir significant controversy.

After all, Jon Connington had fallen during the suppression of the Dornish rebellion. And now, appointing a Dornish as the Hand of the King?

It seemed unreasonable. It was as if the Dornish had rebelled but faced no consequences.

Moreover, this didn't align with Oberyn's plans. Oberyn had a keen sense of danger and knew when to retreat.

He had decided to keep a low profile in the coming years, long before the increasing criticisms against him.

Now was not the time to discuss this matter.

We'll talk later.

However, Varys remained calm. The cold rain trickled down his hair. He took a deep breath and gestured dismissively.

On the other side, Jon Connington's coffin, after much effort, was finally placed into the grave.

A few soldiers began to shovel dirt over it, while a massive tombstone was being erected to mark the grave.

"I beg your pardon."

Seeing Varys's demeanor, Varys realized the king was displeased and didn't dare to press further.

"Your Grace."

The drizzling rain continued. Rainwater streamed down Varys's bald head. He bowed slightly and took his leave.

Jon Connington's funeral and memorial were held simultaneously. It was somewhat unconventional, especially for a Hand of the King, a prestigious position in the empire.

Such a person's passing would typically be marked by days of bell tolling at the Great Sept of Baelor. Monks would pray continuously, lighting candles until the Seven Gods took the soul to heaven.

A grand feast would also be held, with lavish food and wine, where people would toast in remembrance of the deceased.

However, these elaborate rituals were simplified.

Varys had only ordered a tombstone, inscribed with Jon Connington's tumultuous life. It was then placed in a scenic spot at the military academy and buried without much fanfare.

There was no grand ceremony. The simplicity of the funeral was unlike that of a Hand of the King, more like that of a minor noble family.

This was all at Jon Connington's request.

He didn't want to be used as a tool by others after his death. He didn't want people toasting and mingling at his memorial. He preferred simplicity over wasteful extravagance.

...

"As for the next Hand of the King, Jon, any suggestions?"

After the funeral, Varys returned to the Red Keep's Maegor's Holdfast.

He sat in his study, with no guards outside. Robb, his attendant, seemed to have caught a cold from the rain and was sent away to rest. Then Varys spoke.

He didn't want to publicize his ability to control souls. After all, no one wants to die.

When Varys consulted Jon Connington, it was a tradition passed down from the Targaryen dynasty.

The outgoing Hand could recommend a successor to the king.

However, the final decision rested with the king.

Jon Connington pondered for a moment.

He had considered this issue in the past few days.

However, after much thought, only a few suitable candidates came to mind.

"Myles Toyne is a good choice, Your Grace."

"He's a just and resolute warrior, but his identity might be a hindrance."

Jon Connington, always honorable, gave his friend high praise. Myles Toyne seemed to be the best choice.

"Petyr Baelish, the Lord of the Vale, is also very capable."

"However, he's too cunning and will do anything to achieve his goals."

Jon Connington acknowledged Littlefinger's abilities. Petyr Baelish was undoubtedly a rare talent, especially in politics and alliances. However, Jon Connington disapproved of his methods.

"Eddard Stark would have been a great choice, but unfortunately, he's taken the black."

Jon Connington continued.

It was clear that he valued loyalty and reliability over sheer ability.

Myles Toyne and Eddard Stark were both honorable and loyal, even if they might not be the most capable.

However, Jon Connington then suggested someone even Varys hadn't considered, making him turn to look at him.

"Do you remember Willas Tyrell, Your Grace?"

"Willas once led the Riverlands' army and almost defeated the 'Bone Road Guardian,' Lord Ellwood of Dorne, at Starfall."

"He's also a suitable choice."

"He's well-read, outstandingly knowledgeable, hardworking, and dedicated."

Willas Tyrell currently worked in the empire's tax department. His work ethic and abilities were universally recognized.

Although he had a limp and often needed a cane, he tirelessly ran around, handling many tasks personally.

Willas personally explained new policies to merchants at the port. His efforts had recovered a significant amount of taxes for the empire's treasury.

Jon Connington had observed Willas's performance since he came to the capital and was impressed.

Chapter 688: UPDATED Chapter 688: The Tax Farming System

Early in the morning, a tax official from Willas's team presented a thick ledger. "My Lord, this is the tax record of the wool merchant in Eel Alley."

The Iron Throne had always been pushing for economic reforms, albeit at a slower pace compared to other areas.

Jon Connington was a versatile Hand of the King. He could lead in wartime and govern in peace. During his tenure, he quelled rebellions and invasions with fervor. However, when it came to economic reforms, Jon advocated for stability, avoiding drastic upheavals.

Thus, during Jon's era, economic reforms simmered without boiling over, while wars raged on. This was a hallmark of his leadership.

Yet, Jon's reign wasn't devoid of economic achievements. For instance, he ardently advocated for the abolition of the tax farming system, a practice that had persisted in Westeros for centuries.

Tax farmers were individuals who, on behalf of the crown, collected taxes indirectly. They would pay the crown upfront and then collect the taxes from the populace.

Jon Connington believed this system was riddled with flaws, chaos, and corruption. It bred a dark underbelly in King's Landing, with tax farmers often resorting to extreme measures to extort merchants. Harassment, threats, and even violence became commonplace.

In the end, the money extorted from merchants often exceeded the actual tax amount. These merchants also had to pay the Gold Cloaks for protection, or else face further harassment.

Legitimate merchants in King's Landing, burdened by these layers of extortion, had their profits squeezed dry. They were forced to raise prices, passing the burden onto the common folk.

This was why, during the Baratheon and old Targaryen reigns, any slight disturbance would see prices skyrocket. The crown would hastily collect taxes for several years in advance, and tax farmers would then extort even more from the merchants. Prices in King's Landing would soar.

Tax farmers, these 'special' merchants under the Master of Coin, profited from both ends. They received tax benefits from the crown and extorted merchants. But the common folk and merchants without connections bore the brunt of this system.

Jon Connington, ever since his first tenure as Hand under the 'Mad King' Aerys II, had loathed this dark force in King's Landing. A man of his integrity couldn't stand by and watch such corruption.

However, during his time with Aerys, he lacked the support of a wise ruler. It was only during Willas's reign that he got the chance to act.

Thus, in his economic and domestic policies, Jon prioritized the abolition of the tax farming system. However, this system was a convenient way for the crown to collect taxes.

With its abolition, the empire's tax officials suddenly found themselves swamped. Without the help of the local thugs, they had to rely on their wits to collect taxes from the cunning merchants.

At times, when they were run ragged, they couldn't help but miss those old enforcers.

However, most of them had been imprisoned by Jon Connington. Some had even been sent to the Wall or had perished.

Willas's tax official handed him a tax record of a wool merchant from the Baratheon era. The record was penned by a tax official who now served on the Wall.

Although Jon Connington abolished the tax farming system and, with the city guard now under the strict discipline of the Unsullied led by Grey Worm and later the 'Blackfish' Brynden Tully, the merchants in King's Landing had it easier. But merchants will be merchants, always looking for an angle. Even without the tax farmers and Gold Cloaks, collecting taxes became even more challenging. They would argue and haggle with King's Landing's tax officials.

One such wool merchant from Eel Alley was particularly troublesome. Willas had personally visited him twice, but to no avail. The merchant claimed he had already paid his taxes for the next thirty years during King Robert's reign.

"My Lord, shall we visit him again today?" an exasperated tax official asked. "He's just stalling. How can King Robert's reign and His Grace's be the same? King Robert was extravagant, while His Grace is frugal and just. I suggest we inform Ser Brynden Tully and have his shop sealed!"

The tax officials, though they couldn't resort to the old ways of violence and intimidation, had a trump card. They could notify the city guard to seal off a merchant's shop.

"Not yet," Willas Tyrell, engrossed in the tax record, finally spoke after a moment of contemplation. He pointed to a few entries from years ago, during the war against the White Walkers. "Old Linman wasn't lying. He indeed paid his taxes for the next thirty years."

During that time, the Iron Throne was drowning in debt. Yet, to muster troops for the war, they squeezed every penny from the populace. This Northern wool merchant was one of the victims.

Chapter 689: UPDATED Chapter 689: The Bank

"Huh? What do we do now?"

"Lord Willas, are we not collecting the taxes from Old Linman?"

"How do we record this in the books? And there's also the Master of the Four Treasuries, Lord Harries, and the royal accountant."

The tax officer under Willas, upon hearing his superior's words, hurriedly spoke out.

If it was just the taxes from a wool merchant, it wouldn't be much. However, the challenge lies in explaining this to the Master of the Four Treasuries and the royal accountant. There's no way to record it in the books.

After all, the new dynasty has already severed ties with the previous one. The king even rode a dragon to burn Braavos, defaulting on millions of gold dragons owed to the Iron Bank.

The remaining creditors, such as the Tyroshi Trading Company, the Lannister family, the Tyrell family, the Hightower family, and others, either perished or declined. Those who survived didn't dare to come to collect their debts.

The Iron Throne's policy is to start anew. Hence, they don't recognize old debts or past taxes. If anyone has the guts, they can come to the Iron Throne and personally ask Viserys for their money.

The case with Old Linman has precedent. He's not the only one whose taxes have been deferred for thirty years.

However, upon hearing his subordinate's words, Willas waved his hand to calm him down. He casually flipped through the ledger in his hand and then closed it.

But what he was thinking about was the news that the Finance Minister Illyrio told him a few days ago. He already had a plan in mind and then spoke.

"We can't falsify the accounts, and no one will pay Old Linman's taxes for him. We must collect the money."

"I'll talk to him personally."

Willas, having broken his leg in his youth during a duel with Oberyn, always had difficulty walking.

He boarded a carriage embroidered with a golden rose, accompanied by a few attendants from the Tyrell family. This carriage was extremely comfortable and valuable. After all, Willas was now the face of the Tyrell family in Starfall City.

"Eel Alley."

He then gave an instruction, and the coachman nodded in acknowledgment. The carriage wheels began to roll towards their destination.

Eel Alley is located in Visenya's Hill, named in memory of a past queen. It's a commercial area in King's Landing, lined with shops and primarily inhabited by middle to lower-middle-class families.

The arrival of the Tyrell family's carriage in Eel Alley caught the attention of the residents. Everyone in King's Landing knew that despite their hardships, the Tyrells remained wealthy and influential.

This was the result of Margaery Tyrell's generous spending, an idea of the Thorn Queen, Olenna Tyrell.

"If the Tyrells don't appear strong, the wolves will pounce."

However, the residents of Eel Alley only gave the Tyrell carriage a passing glance. They didn't swarm around it asking for tips like the poor in Flea Bottom, as the residents here had a decent income.

The Tyrell carriage stopped in front of a decent-looking shop in Eel Alley. Willas, leaning on his cane, got down with the help of his attendants.

"Which wind brought Lord Willas here?"

"I could smell the roses from a distance."

A young man with brown hair, dressed elegantly with a golden rose embroidered on his chest and a ruby ring on his finger, entered a wool shop. A portly, graying old man hurriedly greeted him.

He was a wool merchant from White Harbor, responsible for selling Northern wool products in King's Landing. However, business wasn't good. The North, once a major producer of wool, had fallen due to the White Walkers' invasion. Old Linman had to resort to importing expensive wool from the Free Cities.

Money had lost its value, prices had skyrocketed, and the people were broke. These three factors weighed heavily on Old Linman, depleting his savings.

Old Linman had been running this shop in King's Landing for decades, starting during the reign of the Mad King Aerys II. He had accumulated a lot of savings and continuously expanded his business.

Back then, the Mad King's atrocities were well-known. He often burned nobles alive. Old Linman despised him, condemning him as a tyrant. However, when the rebels he supported entered King's Landing and began looting, Old Linman lost most of his wealth.

Then, the rebel leader, Robert Baratheon, became king. He heavily taxed the people, deferring tax collection for thirty years. Old Linman lost everything and was on the brink of suicide.

Now, things were slowly getting back to normal, but the wool production base in the North hadn't recovered. He had to import expensive wool from the Free Cities.

Although the market was slowly stabilizing, every penny saved mattered. After all, he had genuinely paid thirty years of taxes.

Old Linman was resentful and still harbored some hope. Now, there were no tax collectors causing trouble, which he found unusual.

Back when tax collectors harassed merchants, their countermeasure was to hire mercenaries. It was a battle of thugs against mercenaries.

So, this time, he spent a little money to hire a few mercenaries. Every time a tax officer came, they would use various tactics to drive them away.

However, this time, the empire's chief tax officer, Lord Willas of House Tyrell, personally arrived. Old Linman didn't dare to play any tricks. He had his mercenaries hide, and he reluctantly went out to greet him.

When Willas entered, he got straight to the point. Old Linman's face changed, and he began to lament, hoping that the chief tax officer would be merciful and exempt his taxes.

"I really have no money left, Lord Willas."

"I'm not lying to you."

The graying old man looked pitiful. He then presented his account book, clearly indicating he had nothing left.

"You really have no money?"

However, Willas, observing Old Linman's exaggerated performance, nodded slightly and asked seriously.

"Yes, I really have no money."

Old Linman, unsure of why Willas was reconfirming, scratched his head and repeated his statement.

"I have a way for you to borrow money at a very low-interest rate."

"Do you know about banks?"

Willas then spoke.

Chapter 690: The New Coin

Midday had passed.

The morning hours flew by, but when Old Linman emerged from a lavish storefront directly opposite the Alchemist Guild, he was visibly perplexed.

Ever since he met Lord Vylas Tyrell's sincere gaze a few hours ago and nodded his head in agreement, everything had changed.

He was taken here by the Empire's chief tax collector and signed a series of contracts, ultimately securing a significant operational loan.

It seemed to be some sort of funding for economic development or some trade-related relief.

In the end, Old Linman was able to borrow a considerable sum at a very low interest rate. However, before the gold dragons could even reach his hands, they were taken by Lord Vylas, the chief tax collector, as a prepayment of next year's taxes. The remaining gold dragons were reportedly deposited...

Old Linman lowered his gaze to the thin black metal card in his hand. Engraved on it was an image of a roaring dragon with outstretched wings. On the right side was Old Linman's name and a numeric code at the bottom right corner.

"0173."

Holding the card, Old Linman couldn't help but read aloud. According to the lady who attended to him, he was the 173rd customer to hold the Empire Bank's savings card, which would hold significant commemorative value in the future.

However, a sudden chill snapped him back to reality. He had heard of this form of banking and lending, especially the operations of the Iron Bank of Braavos across the Narrow Sea, but this was his first personal encounter.

The aging merchant had always operated between White Harbor and King's Landing. It was only in recent years that he had dealings with the trading city-states, yet he never traveled overseas. Instead, he bought goods that arrived in King's Landing, then hired workers to process them into finished products for sale.

"Has the Empire created its own version of the Iron Bank?"

Only when he stepped outside and felt the cool breeze did Old Linman truly comprehend the concept of this banking system.

Yet, there was no joy in his realization. Recalling the contracts he'd just signed, he felt a shiver down his spine.

Having lived in King's Landing for many years, he knew the rulers of the Iron Throne all too well. Their erratic decisions often led to chaos throughout the realm. He suspected that this Empire Bank might be another half-baked idea, destined to collapse, leaving him without his money, yet still owing the loan and interest.

He remembered paying taxes for thirty years during King Robert's reign as a clear example.

"No!"

"I want my money back!"

Old Linman, after shivering from his chilling thoughts, hurriedly dashed back into the opulent facade of the Empire Bank. The building was situated at the heart of King's Landing, nestled among landmarks like the Great Sept of Baelor, the Empire Theological Seminary, the Empire Medical College, and the Alchemist Guild.

Future city plans positioned this area as the cultural and economic heart of King's Landing, while Aegon's Hill remained the political center, where several ministerial residences were being constructed.

Although the Empire Bank's exterior was grand, its main hall was as tall as three stories, supported by dozens of pillars. Unsullied soldiers from the royal guard stood outside, yet the building bore no sign or emblem. Ordinary citizens had been curious since its construction began but received no answers.

Now, as the building stood completed, it was still off-limits to the general populace. However, those seen entering and exiting were always notable figures of King's Landing.

This stirred the curiosity of many. Some speculated it was a pleasure house for the nobles, while others thought it might be a new palace.

However, just now, Old Linman, without heed to the perplexed glances of surrounding nobles and officials, hastily reentered.

Fortunately, the Empire Bank had only recently started its trial operations, one of the priorities of the Finance Minister Illyrio. Thus, few in King's Landing were even aware of it, and many service windows remained unoccupied.

Old Linman quickly returned to the same window where he had just made his deposit. The well-dressed redhead inside, who had been snacking, promptly put away her food and sat up straight.

"Sir, what can I..."

"I want to withdraw!"

"I want to withdraw money!" Old Linman blurted out, almost out of breath, fearing any delay would mean his money would disappear.

The redhead blinked, seemingly understanding his concerns. Although the Empire Bank was in its trial phase, those who came here were prominent figures of King's Landing. They might have their doubts, but a small sum wouldn't concern them.

However, this old man was brought in by Lord Vylas Tyrell personally, and technically, he shouldn't have had access.

Though the girl understood his worries, she maintained a courteous smile, a result of her secret training.

"How much would you like to withdraw?"

The question caught Old Linman off guard.

He had initially been worried about his loan disappearing, but now he realized that withdrawing it immediately might signify distrust towards Lord Vylas Tyrell, a noble with significant influence. If Lord Vylas took it as a slight, Old Linman could face repercussions.

After a moment of inner conflict, Old Linman made up his mind.

"Ten gold dragons."

While ten gold dragons was a considerable sum for an average family in King's Landing, it was an amount the seasoned merchant like Old Linman could afford, especially considering the hefty loan he had just secured.

"Alright."

Without hesitation, the redhead took the metal card from Old Linman, checked the code, and located the corresponding ledger. She then deducted ten gold dragons from Old Linman's account.

Soon, ten gleaming new gold dragons lay before him.

"Please keep them safe!"

"Good day!" The girl nodded courteously.

Chapter 691: Updated Chapter 691: The Royal Mint

Old Linman stood in front of the counter window, transfixed by the gold coin in his hand.

Firstly, he was relieved that he could indeed withdraw money. Secondly, he was intrigued by this brand-new gold coin.

It was a gold dragon like none he had ever seen before. On one side, it bore the Targaryen family's three-headed dragon emblem. On the other, there was a side profile of a young man with silver hair, wearing a crown, looking gallant.

"What is this?" Old Linman asked, holding the gold dragon with a hint of hesitation. With his years of trading experience, he didn't need to touch it to know it was genuine.

However, having done business in King's Landing for so many years, he had never seen this particular gold dragon.

The young lady at the Imperial Bank counter promptly cleared his doubts, "This is the new currency the Empire is planning to issue. You should be able to tell its authenticity."

Old Linman hesitated for a moment, then felt the coin again and nodded. It was indeed genuine. He hadn't expected the Emperor to issue a new batch of coins.

Weighing it, it seemed to be of the same weight as the old coins. Finding no fault, Old Linman, still somewhat skeptical, pocketed the ten new coins.

But upon reflection, it wasn't that surprising. The Emperor had changed the nation's name to Valyria and had taken steps to rebuild Valyria. Naturally, he would make a series of changes.

Old Linman might not understand economics, but it wasn't rare for the rulers of the Iron Throne to issue new coins. Daemon Blackfyre, Aerys I, Daeron II, Aegon IV, and others had minted their own coins.

Considering the coins used before the Conquest War three hundred years ago and the coins brought by customers from the Free Cities, the currency circulating in the Seven Kingdoms was very diverse.

Gold dragons, silver moons, silver stags, copper stars, halfpennies, pennies, and many more. Too many to count.

During transactions, merchants would adjust prices based on the type of coin used by the customer. Some coins had a low gold content, while others were quite valuable. They also had to consider exchange rates. It was all very complicated.

Therefore, standardizing the currency market and regulating the circulation of coins was one of the tasks Viserys gave to the Finance Minister.

Ever since Illyrio arrived in King's Landing from Pentos, he hadn't had a day off. He was busy with the construction of the bank, visiting the three mints in King's Landing, and also had to visit the port of Blackwater Bay, the customs department, the tax department, and more.

As a result, Finance Minister Illyrio rarely attended the Small Council meetings. His seat was often vacant, as was the seat of the War Minister, Caggo, who was currently on the other side of the Narrow Sea.

Caggo's military knowledge wasn't particularly high. He had extensive combat experience but lacked knowledge and could only command cavalry.

Viserys had given Caggo the position of War Minister primarily to secure the loyalty of the Dothraki. He didn't really need Caggo's advice; otherwise, the Iron Throne would have declared war everywhere by now.

"Willas, my brother, you've finally arrived."

There were three royal mints in King's Landing. Coin minting was one of the few powers exclusive to the king. No other noble in the Seven Kingdoms had this power.

The Finance Minister, as the Emperor's chief economic advisor, controlled a large number of government officials, including the income and expenditure of the royal family and the treasury, the payment of taxes and tariffs, foreign loans, and these three local mints.

The mints were very lucrative. During Robert Baratheon's reign, corruption in the mints was rampant. But now, they were guarded by the Unsullied, who were free from desires. It was almost impossible to bribe them, making the new mints relatively clean.

They also had a new task: to collect old coins in large quantities and then melt them down to mint new ones. They were busier than ever.

After Willas Tyrell settled matters with Old Linman, he headed to the royal mint in King's Landing. Finance Minister Illyrio had been waiting for him for some time.

"Lord Illyrio."

Willas, leaning on his cane, entered the bustling furnace room. He saw the portly man from Pentos with golden hair and a forked beard. He greeted him politely, but Illyrio responded with hearty laughter.

"Come, brother. Let me show you around."

Although Illyrio had become a wealthy governor in Pentos thanks to his spice, gem, and dragon bone businesses, he was originally a mercenary and thief. He had also been involved in many shady deals.

He was always respectful to Viserys, but in private, he was quite boisterous. However, how much of his laughter was genuine and how much was deceptive was anyone's guess. Those who trusted Illyrio too much might end up regretting it.

Jon Connington didn't particularly like or trust Illyrio. If not for Illyrio's crucial help when Viserys was starting out, Jon Connington would have wanted to get rid of him long ago.

Willas, despite his youth, understood the rules among the nobility. He maintained a proper distance from Illyrio, neither too close nor too distant.

Illyrio's business was in Pentos. He wanted to get close to Willas to benefit from the Tyrell family's connections and network. After all, he wasn't in his hometown now.

People like him didn't get close to others without a reason, just as they didn't dislike others without a reason. Everything was based on fundamental interests.

"Brother, look. Do you know how this new coin is minted?"

The portly man from Pentos entered the workshop, where the sound of hammers echoed. Craftsmen were sweating profusely as they hammered away. Before the invention of rolling mills and lever presses, coins had to be hammered out.

Illyrio held up a new gold dragon and turned to Willas with a chuckle, "Do you know the profit from minting this one gold dragon?"

Willas pondered for a moment and then shook his head honestly, "I don't know. Please enlighten me."

Although he was well-read, he had never led an army before the siege of Highgarden. Similarly, before coming to King's Landing, he didn't know about the lives of the common people, including many basic facts.

He knew about countless coins from the past and the Free Cities, their origins, and their history. But he didn't know how they were made.

Chapter 692: Potential Stock

"Every gold dragon is not made of pure gold, for gold is too soft and delicate to be used in its pure form."

"Thus, when the Royal Mint casts gold dragons, they mix in about twenty percent of other metals to increase the coin's hardness and wear resistance."

"These mixed metals include silver, brass, and copper, among others."

Surrounded by craftsmen fervently at work, Illyrio held up a gleaming new coin, still warm to the touch, and remarked, "A slight fluctuation in the proportion of these metals can lead to astonishing wealth."

The portly Pentoshi made a 'tiny bit' gesture with his fingers.

Indeed.

Viserys had decided to recall the majority of the gold dragons in circulation, aiming to standardize the currency system of Westeros. Whether reminting old coins or creating new ones, the task was monumental.

This 'tiny bit' of difference could fill the coffers of everyone in the Royal Mint, from top to bottom. Upon hearing this, Willas, a member of the famously wealthy Tyrell family, took a deep breath, imagining the vast profit margins.

"Brother, do you know where the previous master of the Royal Mint went?"

Illyrio casually tossed the gold dragon in his hand and asked.

The young man with brown hair, leaning on a cane, nodded slightly.

"I heard he donned the black and went to serve at the Wall."

"Correct."

Illyrio chuckled, "King Robert probably never dreamt that the Unsullied would later find a hundred thousand gold dragons in that master's cellar."

In these times, an average family might not earn a single gold dragon in a year. Two hundred silver stags could hire an assassin to eliminate an enemy, and a hundred gold dragons could ransom a captured noble.

To find a hundred thousand gold dragons in the home of the master of the King's Landing Mint was an astonishing number.

"Thus, the coins minted during Robert Baratheon's reign were of very poor quality, and the common folk were reluctant to accept them."

"But our King Robert didn't care. He just wanted the Mint to produce as much money as possible."

"The inept King Aegon was the same. The coins he minted were arguably the worst in history, leading to economic chaos throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

"After his death, civil war broke out. On the surface, it seemed to be due to his many bastards and the consequences of legitimizing them, but the underlying economic turmoil was also a significant factor."

Though Illyrio came from a background of thievery and mercenary work, as Master of Coin, he was quite adept.

Having risen from nothing to become a governor and wealthy merchant of Pentos, he had scholars and wise men among his retainers and slaves to advise him.

"Lord Illyrio speaks the truth."

After listening to his superior, Willas paused for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

He wasn't sure why Illyrio was sharing all this with him, but he continued the conversation.

"The work of the Royal Mint is crucial. We need someone reliable in charge, with no room for errors."

"Exactly."

Willas continued along the lines of Illyrio's narrative, and the rotund Pentoshi laughed heartily, clapping his hands.

"You're right, young man. His Grace places great importance on this matter and inquires about it frequently."

"But the position of master for the three mints remains vacant."

"I'm considering entrusting you with this responsibility."

"What do you think? Do you have the confidence?"

As Illyrio's words settled, Willas's expression shifted slightly. He hadn't expected the Master of Coin to consider him for overseeing the Mint's operations.

However, seeing the cards laid out on the table, Illyrio's offer seemed more like a generous gift than a hidden dagger.

After all, it was a lucrative position. Taking on this role would almost guarantee wealth.

Illyrio was trying to curry favor with the Tyrells, seeking their alliance.

But for Willas, it felt like a hot potato. His grandmother, Olenna, had a different vision for the Tyrells than he did. While Willas wanted to keep a low profile and let people forget the past glory of House Tyrell, his grandmother had other plans.

Still, with his superior making such an offer, it seemed hard for Willas to refuse. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded.

Atop the Mint's roof, a black raven tilted its head, then took flight, heading into the distance.

"Willas has potential."

Inside the Red Keep's Maegor's Holdfast, Viserys opened his eyes. Beside him floated an invisible spirit only he could see.

"But he's not yet mature."

Viserys wasn't referring to Willas's age, which was greater than his own. It was that Willas's exposure to the real world was still limited.

Having once been the heir to Highgarden, suddenly being thrust into grassroots work and dealing with mundane matters was a bit overwhelming.

"We'll see how he performs."

"I plan to send him to Gulltown in the future, to take charge."

"Gulltown, as one of Westeros's major port cities, is indeed a place where one can achieve great things."

Jon Connington's spirit, floating in mid-air, nodded in agreement.

When he had recommended Willas, Connington hadn't truly intended for him to become Hand of the King. In fact, Willas was his third choice, after Myles Toyne of the Westerlands and Petyr Baelish of the Vale.

Jon Connington simply believed that such a talented and promising young man shouldn't be overlooked. He had introduced Willas to Viserys so the king could recognize his potential.

The Imp, Tyrion Lannister, was also a suitable candidate for Hand of the King.

Viserys hadn't forgotten Tyrion's potential for the role. However, for the new regime, Tyrion's status was somewhat unique.

As a personal advisor to the king, Tyrion might not have official power, but he could attend the Small Council meetings and offer advice whenever Viserys needed. In reality, Tyrion's position was quite elevated, making his appointment as Hand of the King somewhat redundant.

"Your Grace, how shall we finalize the appointment?"

Jon Connington's spirit asked.

After a moment of contemplation, Viserys had a clear answer based on the current political climate.

"Send a raven to Casterly Rock tomorrow, summoning Myles Toyne to King's Landing."

Chapter 693: The Council of Lys

Early the next morning, a raven flew from Archmaester Marwyn's hand towards the western territories of the Empire.

Myles Toyne, the former commander of the Golden Company, was soon to assume the role of the Empire's fourth Hand of the King.

Elsewhere, the Empire's fleet, which had been dispatched across the Narrow Sea, departed Tyrosh, setting their formation as they sailed to their next destination: Lys.

But news of the Empire's fleet approaching Lys had sent ripples of panic throughout the city. This was primarily due to a rumor that had recently spread like wildfire. The rumor stated that the Iron Throne's envoy, Asha Greyjoy, had narrowly escaped a meticulously planned assassination attempt in Tyrosh. Were it not for her luck, she might have met her end there. The masterminds behind this alleged assassination? The governing council of Lys.

The motive was clear. Lys and Tyrosh were on the brink of war, clashing over territorial disputes. The Lyseni hoped that by eliminating the envoy of the Iron Throne, they could sow discord between the Throne and Tyrosh, thereby securing the disputed lands with the Empire's backing.

However, their plan had backfired. Not only had they failed to assassinate Asha Greyjoy, but the truth of their conspiracy had also been laid bare to the Tyroshi. Now, Tyrosh was mobilizing its forces, stockpiling resources, and forming alliances with mercenary groups. Their warships filled the harbors, hinting at an imminent assault on Lys. War seemed inevitable.

The timing of the Empire's fleet's arrival in Lys raised eyebrows and fueled speculation. After all, the fleet boasted two thousand elite soldiers, veterans of the Conquest Wars. If they chose to attack, even the powerful trading city-state would suffer significant losses.

Lys, one of the nine Free Cities, was located on the southern coast of the Essos continent, southeast of Tyrosh and west of Volantis. Built upon rock, the city was surrounded by stormy seas and spanned multiple islands. A bustling main port city, supplemented by several thriving satellite islands, was the heart of Lys.

Now, within the chambers of the Lys governing council, twelve governors sat around a massive circular table. Their appearances varied - some were stout, others lean, and their ages ranged from young to old. Behind each stood their most loyal slaves. But a common trait among them was their blue eyes, platinum curls, and fair skin. Even in their old age, they appeared youthful and refined.

The Valyrian bloodline ran strong in them, a reminder of the ancient Freehold's influence. The closer one was to that region, the more prominent the Valyrian features became.

"I've received intel that the Iron Throne's fleet intends to support Tyrosh's forces against Lys," remarked a young governor with light golden locks.

"The Iron Throne wouldn't intervene in our dispute with Tyrosh so easily," countered another, an older governor with silvering hair.

"But what if they have 'evidence' to the contrary, Lord Hadd?" the young governor retorted.

"We all know we had no part in it, but Tyrosh sees it differently. They've convinced the Iron Throne's envoy to attack Lys. We must defend ourselves!"

All eyes turned to a younger figure who stood up, drawing the attention of the gathered governors.

"Lord Henvry Hightower," one began, "Do you have a solution?"

Henvry Hightower was the heir to the Hightower family of Oldtown. He was the youngest and only surviving son of Lord Leyton Hightower. Before the Dornish forces captured Oldtown, Henvry had fled by ship to Lys, bringing with him significant wealth from his family's coffers. Using this fortune, he quickly established himself in Lys, consolidating power, acquiring businesses, and becoming one of Lys's youngest trade governors.

Though Henvry had found his footing in Lys, he was still a newcomer in the council. Not every governor held equal sway, with their influence often determined by the powers backing them. Yet, Henvry didn't falter. He had been biding his time, waiting for the right moment.

"Of course, Lord Kolom," Henvry responded confidently, clearly having prepared his argument. "I've been in contact with Salladhor Saan."

"This pirate lord has expressed interest in forming an alliance with Lys to counter the threat from Tyrosh. He only seeks Lys's unwavering support."

Salladhor Saan had recently seized control of Myr by instigating a coup, eliminating the other governors supported by Tyrosh and Volantis. With a formidable fleet and seasoned sailors under his command, Saan would undoubtedly be a valuable ally against Tyrosh.

However, the revelation caused an uproar in the council chamber.

"What? This traitor?"

"He betrayed Lys once, he can do it again!"

"We cannot trust him!"

Yet, Henvry and another portly governor remained unfazed, exchanging subtle glances. They had anticipated this reaction, but both were determined to see their plan through.

Chapter 694: Henvry Hightower

Following its reconstruction, Myr was governed by three magisters. Salladhor Saan, backed by the Lyseni, was one of these magisters. One would assume that the Lyseni would rejoice upon hearing that their backed magister had eliminated the competition.

However, the reality was far from this assumption.

The Lyseni Governing Council had never truly viewed Salladhor Saan as a magister. To them, he was merely a pawn, a tool to squeeze benefits for Lys.

The Lyseni council never actually considered taking over Myr. Such an endeavor would be overly ambitious, like a snake attempting to swallow an elephant. Lys lacked the strength to dominate Myr on its own.

Moreover, such an act could potentially spark a war. Both Tyrosh and Volantis had been eyeing this territory, like hungry wolves lurking in the shadows.

However, Salladhor Saan, the Lys-backed pawn, had ignored the Council's directives. Acting on his own, he launched an attack, successfully assassinating the other two magisters and taking control of Myr.

This self-proclaimed 'Prince of the Narrow Sea' and pirate magister's acquisition of Myr meant he had effectively broken free from Lys's influence, becoming the de facto 'King of Myr'.

Upon hearing this news, the Lyseni Governing Council was initially furious, ready to send troops to punish this disobedient pawn. But it was then that they realized they were under a looming shadow of war.

Because of the political upheaval in Myr, regardless of how the Lyseni Council tried to explain themselves, both Tyrosh and Volantis viewed Salladhor Saan as the Lys-backed magister. In their eyes, Lys had successfully taken Myr.

Compounded with the assassination incident, the Lord of Tyrosh became convinced that the mastermind behind it was the poison-skilled Lyseni. He swore to make them pay.

In swift response, he amassed an army, signing contracts with several mercenary groups active in the region, preparing to wage war over the disputed lands.

Now, the clouds of war loomed over the disputed territories. The Lyseni were in a tight spot, hesitant to retaliate, fearing a surprise attack from Tyrosh.

So, Salladhor Saan had indeed put Lys in a precarious position, and their grudge against him was well justified.

But now, the newly appointed Magister Henvry Hightower suddenly proposed an alliance with this rebel, Salladhor Saan. How could this not create an uproar?

Yet, amidst the chaotic debates in the grand hall of the Lyseni Governing Council, Henvry Hightower exchanged subtle glances with an opposing affluent magister. The latter, understanding the silent message, rose from his seat.

"I support Magister Hightower's proposal!" he announced.

His voice instantly silenced the room. All eyes turned to him.

For this magister, Trigg Omoren, was not a newcomer like Henvry Hightower. The Omoren family had been influential in Lys for generations, and under Trigg's leadership, their influence soared, earning him a seat among the magisters.

When Henvry first arrived in Lys, it was Trigg Omoren who had subtly assisted him, ensuring his stable footing in the city.

Interestingly, few outside knew of their relationship. Publicly, they seemed like strangers. Yet, Trigg's most cherished concubine was Lynesse Hightower, Henvry's sister.

Lynesse, the youngest and most beautiful daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower, had once ensnared Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. To satisfy her material desires, he had spent all his fortune and even dabbled in the slave trade. When his deeds were exposed, and he was penniless, she left him for Lys, eventually marrying the affluent magister, Trigg Omoren.

Thus, Trigg was Henvry's brother-in-law. Their private relationship was naturally close.

At this moment, Trigg's voice in support of Henvry left the council puzzled. To them, these two seldom interacted.

Trigg Omoren, calm and composed, scanned the room, and declared, "Honorable Magisters! Salladhor Saan's betrayal must be punished, but not now."

The room buzzed with whispers.

Continuing, he said, "We now face the Tyroshi army on our borders and misunderstandings from the Iron Throne's envoy. We need allies!"

"Salladhor Saan, having killed envoys from Tyrosh and Volantis, cannot possibly join our enemies. He has only us to turn to. We can use his fleet to overcome this immediate threat, repel the Tyroshi forces, and then turn our attention to him."

Trigg's reasoning was sound. Lys was surrounded by enemies and desperately needed allies. Saan, after his actions, had no choice but to seek help from Lys, and they, in turn, needed his fleet for battle.

Settling old scores could wait.

"Magister Omoren speaks the truth."

"I agree."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

Of the twelve magisters in the council, excluding Henvry Hightower and Trigg Omoren, the remaining ten seemed persuaded, nodding in agreement. After all, immediate survival was paramount.

"But there's one more concern, Magister Hightower," another magister voiced.

"The Iron Throne's envoy fleet is nearing Lys. What do we do?"

Although young Magister Hightower hailed from Westeros, none believed he would conspire with the Iron Throne. After all, the fall of the Hightower family was still fresh in their memories.

Chapter 695: Blockade

Aboard the empire's flagship, a long-separated uncle and nephew were deep in a fervent disagreement.

"Asha, your father's greatest dream in life was to make the Iron Kingdom independent again and restore the ancient ways!"

"Now, you have both troops and ships. Why not sail to the edge of the world, conquer a small island, and reign supreme?"

Victarion could not fathom why his niece seemed so fearful of Viserys. The ironborn, with their unyielding spirit running through their veins, should not be so easily intimidated.

Even the mightiest dragon could not possibly fly to the world's end to hunt Asha down.

He had once traveled to Meereen, realizing that the world was far bigger than he had imagined. Beyond the Bone Mountains lay an even vaster world.

Freedom was the ultimate treasure.

To reign at the world's edge, establishing an empire and living free — wasn't that far better than being a mere lapdog for House Targaryen?

On the other hand, Asha equally couldn't understand her father and uncle's obsession with restoring the old ways and seeking the Iron Islands' independence.

The Ironborn spoke of reviving the old ways, of paying the iron price for goods and salt wives, but weren't they, in essence, just a band of pirates? As for independence, the Iron Islands were resource-poor, barren lands that barely produced any food, save for some worthless iron ore.

Were the Iron Islands to break away from Westeros, they couldn't even sustain themselves. Nowadays, the islands were sparsely populated, almost ghostly.

She had heard that her uncle, Euron Greyjoy, had cleared the islands of wights, but settlers were still few and far between.

Even refugees fleeing turmoil avoided the Iron Islands. Euron could only bolster numbers by raiding native islands and capturing prisoners.

Independence for such an Iron Islands?

With a population no greater than a few hundred, the Iron Islands barely qualified for a governor's position. If it weren't for historical considerations, the Iron Islands might even be absorbed into the Westerlands.

Hearing her uncle's words, Asha barely suppressed her anger.

"Uncle!"

"The Iron Islands are no longer under my control!"

"If you want independence for the Iron Islands, seek out Euron, not me."

Were it not for the fact that Victarion had saved her life, Asha might have been even more blunt.

"Do you think these soldiers will listen to my commands?"

Asha knew she could command them in most matters, be it pillaging or piracy, but to turn against the Iron Throne? Impossible.

Soldiers nowadays had a notion of allegiance to a nation.

They no longer simply followed the whims of local lords, even in rebellion. Today's soldiers were loyal to the monarchy, loyal to the entire realm.

Therefore, the idea of reigning supreme at the edge of the world with them was simply unattainable.

"Euron?"

"Asha, you know, how could I possibly seek him out?"

Even without the infamous affair between Euron and his wife, Victarion and his brother's relationship had always been fraught.

"I mean no offense. Just a suggestion. If you don't want to hear it, so be it."

In truth, Victarion yearned for command of the fleet. He always saw himself as his elder brother Balon's right-hand man, deserving of the Seastone Chair after his death. Plus, his niece was but a woman.

However, when Victarion arrived on the fleet, he realized that aside from the ironborn who respected him out of courtesy, he couldn't command anyone else.

An officer from the Vale, a captain of the imperial navy, even eyed him oddly, making Victarion uncomfortable, yet unable to lash out.

What had happened while he was away, journeying half the world to Meereen? Why did the world he knew seem slightly altered?

Suddenly, a mournful horn sounded across the sea.

"Uh?"

Victarion and Asha exchanged glances, then swiftly dashed out of the cabin.

"What's going on?"

"Commander!"

A golden-haired officer, clad in the armor of the imperial navy and holding his helmet, stood at the prow.

Upon seeing Asha Greyjoy approach, he swiftly saluted and gestured towards the horizon.

"A fleet flying the banners of Lys blocks our path."

"What?"

Peering into the distance, a thick fog rose from the sea, obscuring the view. Yet, the shadowy outlines of countless ships, formed in battle array, blocking the imperial fleet, were visible.

"Spyglass!"

Taking the Myrish lens from the officer's hand, Asha gazed into the distance.

Indeed, it was the flag of Lys.

"What do the Lyseni intend?"

"Could they be responsible?"

The empire's fleet had announced their diplomatic tour in advance, starting from Myr, through Tyrosh and Lys, finally to Volantis, then skirting the tumultuous Smoking Sea to Naath. Lys had initially welcomed them. Why the sudden blockade after the assassination attempt?

The scene shifted several hundred miles away to Myr, where a hooded figure, surrounded by spies, discreetly disembarked.

The bustling Myrish port seemed calm, but countless eyes scanned every corner. From the drunken sellsword, the rotund merchant, to the veiled woman clutching her child.

The mysterious figure removed his hood, revealing a pale, shadowy face. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, a brilliant smile emerged.

Chapter 696: Muddying the Waters

"His Majesty never mentioned conquering these trade city-states immediately."

"That's because His Majesty's focus is now solely on the North, leaving no time for these trivial matters, which is why he entrusted them to me."

"He told me, 'The enemies from the North are drawing nearer. I can feel it. This time, their approach is more menacing. They breathe the cold, and icy flames burn within them.'"

At this moment, the newly titled Count of Harrenhal was in a tavern room in Myr, pouring wine from a jug. He then mimicked the tone once used by Viserys.

However, there was a chilling undertone in his voice that left Salladhor Saan, the great pirate seated in the room, a bit uneasy.

"Lord Ramsay Bolton, I don't think the White Walkers would appear in Essos."

He had never seen a White Walker, but he had witnessed wights years ago.

It was during a public exhibition in Pentos. The Dothraki had captured several wights using lassos and caged them. These creatures were then transported to Pentos by Euron's Iron Fleet.

It was then that the people of Pentos realized the kind of monsters their king had been battling and had successfully driven back to their homeland.

However, these exhibited wights later died, possibly due to the fading of magic within them or some other reason, leaving the city officials of Pentos very disappointed.

The exhibition had caused a sensation throughout the trading city-states. People from all corners of the world flocked to Pentos, eager to witness these legendary creatures.

The revenue from just the entrance fees was substantial.

This led to a wave of adventurers, slavers, and mercenary groups from Essos sailing to the North, hoping to capture more wights for profit. However, most were unsuccessful.

Many underestimated the wights they had seen caged, considering them easy prey. However, once they reached the North, they paid a heavy price.

Most of these slaver groups perished in the North, becoming part of the wight army. Those few who managed to capture wights and attempted to return by ship found the creatures dead in the ship's hold, turning into rotten flesh or scattered bones. It seemed that once removed from Westeros, the wights lost their magic.

The Iron Fleet had been successful in capturing wights at a time when the Night King was still a looming threat, and the cold god's power was at its peak.

However, upon hearing the pirate governor's words, Ramsay merely smiled, placed the jug of wine down, and replied, "That's not necessarily true, Lord Salladhor Saan."

"The Iron Islands were also overrun by the White Walkers."

Seeing the unease on the face of the dark-skinned pirate governor, Ramsay's smirk faded, and he inquired earnestly, "Regarding the assassination attempt, Lord Saan, have you found any leads?"

The news of the assassination attempt on the imperial envoy, Asha Greyjoy, had spread, causing quite a stir. It seemed to insiders that the intent might not have been against the empire, but for some other hidden agenda. Asha was not a significant figure in the empire; her death would not have impacted it.

However, what puzzled the pirate governor was how the news reached the emperor so quickly.

Could it be...

Despite his suspicions, he responded truthfully, shaking his head, "No, these assassins aimed to frame Volantis or Lys."

Lys is known for its poisons, and the testimony mentioned Volantis. Of course, it wasn't ruled out that someone was trying to divert attention. The Archon of Tyrosh was also under suspicion.

The imperial fleet had set out for Naath, visiting several Free Cities along the way. Even though Asha Greyjoy hadn't done anything significant, her presence stirred up a storm in the world of the trading city-states. Salladhor Saan didn't believe that there wasn't someone orchestrating this chaos from behind the scenes.

And the somber young man before him, with his dark demeanor, could very well be the puppet master. The pirate governor had heard of Ramsay Bolton's name long ago during his time in Pentos. He was known for his ruthless tactics.

Salladhor Saan continued, "So, what do we do next, Lord Bolton? Does His Majesty have any directives?"

He had already established contact with Trystane Ormollen, the governor of Lys, and Humphrey Hightower. They were conspiring to take over Lys.

Ormollen wanted full control of Lys, tired of sharing power with the other eleven governors. His ambition was to become the sole ruler of Lys, like Salladhor Saan in Myr.

"Chaos is a ladder."

Ramsay Bolton, the Grand Commander of the Empire's Internal Affairs, replied with a smirk after hearing Salladhor Saan's question.

"This was said by someone I don't particularly like."

"But I believe it makes sense."

The rise of the empire was accompanied by worldwide upheaval and chaos. While most struggled to survive, the elites used this as a stepping stone to ascend.

Salladhor Saan and Trystane Ormollen were such individuals, using chaos to their advantage. Humphrey Hightower, on the other hand, had been reduced to a mere pawn.

"Continue your dealings with them. Stir the waters of the trade city-states."

Chapter 697: Clouds of Civil War

Lysene naval forces, anticipating an imminent war, had halted the Empire's fleet from progressing south towards Lys, using the Stepstones as their blockade.

Consequently, the fleet had no choice but to temporarily anchor on the Disputed Lands for provisions.

This land, once a thriving part of the Valyrian Freehold, had seen numerous wars in the four centuries following the Freehold's demise. Its prosperity shattered, yet the potential of the land remained untapped.

Asha Greyjoy's fleet was anchored at the Disputed Lands when a war inevitably erupted at the confluence of the two seas.

The Archon of Tyrosh had employed numerous mercenary groups, accusing the Lyseni of plotting to poison the emissaries of the Iron Throne and frame Tyrosh. However, the crux of the conflict was the Archon's belief that Lys had taken Myr, which was the primary cause for war.

The delicate balance of the Three Sisters had been disrupted long ago, and the ensuing wars were inevitable, casting a dark shadow over the regions.

Having lost Myr to Lys, the Tyroshi perceived this as a do-or-die situation, necessitating a pre-emptive strike.

In their desperation, the Tyroshi even invited Volantis and the Empire to join the war over the sovereignty of Myr and the Disputed Lands.

However, the ruling party of Volantis, the moderate Elephants, gave a non-committal response, seemingly waiting to gauge the evolving situation.

On the other hand, the Empire's naval intervention was outrightly declined. Asha Greyjoy would not let her fleet partake in this localized war ignited by several trade city-states.

The Tyroshi were zealous, and the Lyseni responded in kind. The magisters of Lys vehemently denied all accusations from Tyrosh, including assassination plots, framing, and the takeover of Myr.

Soon after, the pirate-lord Salladhor Saan, in name the governor of Myr but in reality its prince, voiced support for his homeland.

He actively prepared for war, hiring his old friend the Red Beard and his 3000 warriors, ready to face the Tyroshi in a decisive battle.

This was a war of survival. Victory for the Tyroshi meant unifying the former Three Sisters region, including the vast Disputed Lands, to form a true Tyroshi Kingdom.

Similarly, a Lyseni victory implied the annexation of Tyrosh. The newly rebuilt Myr was in no position to resist Lys, merely being a pawn in the grand game between Tyrosh and Lys.

However, with the war clouds looming over the Three Sisters, both sides actively prepared, with a major conflict being imminent. Yet, the Empire's fleet would not remain anchored indefinitely, waiting for the end of the war.

After all, if the war dragged on for months, would they really stay that long?

After entering the Summer Sea, the Empire's fleet anchored on the Disputed Lands for provisions. A few days later, they continued southeast along the coast of Essos, heading to their next destination: Volantis.

Located at the southeast corner of the Free Cities, east of the Disputed Lands and at the mouth of the Rhoyne, Volantis has a rich history and is a formidable power. It is also the closest Free City to the ruins of Valyria.

Volantis dominates the surrounding region, and in the past, Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr combined could barely challenge it.

However, the approaching Imperial fleet made Volantis somewhat 'nervous'.

Wherever the Empire's fleet had gone, either a mishap occurred or a war erupted.

Asha Greyjoy's fleet visited the Three Sisters, but before they could visit Lys, the region was on the brink of chaos.

Would the arrival of the Imperial fleet bring this 'misfortune' to Volantis?

Yet, with pride as the 'First Daughter of Valyria', the 'Queen of the Rhoyne', and the 'Mistress of the Summer Sea', Volantis did not refuse the Imperial fleet as Lys did.

Instead, they prepared for this diplomatic event. However, due to historical reasons, the Volantenes generally despised House Targaryen.

Currently, two of the three Triarchs of Volantis belonged to the Elephant party: Dofas Penymion and Naxys Visama. The only Tiger party Triarch was Marqo Megar, who once encountered Viserys.

During the last Smoking Sea upheaval, Marqo Megar led an expedition of 20 ships into the Valyrian ruins. His nephew was the commander, and Viserys, disguised, was part of the expedition.

Their party reached the capital of the Freehold, Valyria. However, with the ruins erupting in chaos and demonic creatures emerging, only Viserys, his maid Mia, and Maester Marwyn escaped.

Time flew swiftly. The shadow of war loomed over the Stepstones. Yet, as the Imperial fleet sailed the seas, they were soon to arrive in Volantis.

Elsewhere, in the remote and unknown regions of Westeros, where no man has set foot due to the chilling cold and terrifying White Walkers,

Benjen Stark rode a skeletal horse, following the lead White Walker. They had traveled far, and for how long, he couldn't tell. The sky above grew dimmer.

At first, Benjen didn't realize. But as they ventured deeper, even the cold-resistant trees and all life vanished, replaced by eerie silence and howling cold winds.

Benjen noticed the stark change in day and night. Daytime seemed shorter, while nights became longer.

Sometimes, days would pass in mere hours, while nights seemed to stretch for days.

Yet, the long night wasn't lonely. The skeletal horse never tired, and neither did Benjen.

Occasionally, he'd gaze at the northern sky, mesmerized by the dazzling, ethereal lights.

However, after an indefinite period, the leading White Walker finally halted.

Chapter 698: Icy Altar

The White Walker ahead suddenly halted its mount, and Benjen, stirred from his trance, hastily pulled back the reins of his skeletal horse.

Though the being had paid him no mind, boosting his courage somewhat, they maintained a cautious distance. No matter how brave Benjen felt, he dared not approach it closely.

What if this White Walker, in a sudden fit of displeasure, decided to crush him?

Benjen discreetly felt the dragonglass dagger hidden in his robes. This weapon, capable of killing White Walkers, was his last line of defense. Only by touching it could Benjen clear his mind and regain a sense of reality.

But now, he looked ahead and his eyes narrowed in alarm. His heart may have stopped beating long ago, but an intense dread surged from the depths of his soul.

Before him stood a massive icy altar, resembling the claw of a dragon, with five towering and intricately carved icy pillars emitting a blue glow.

Just one glance made Benjen's mind waver for a moment before he quickly shook his head to dispel the sensation.

"What is this?"

He was unsure where he now stood. Why was such a magnificent icy altar located in a land where no man had ever set foot?

Who built it? The White Walkers? And for what purpose?

However, these questions weren't the root cause of Benjen's profound fear.

The true reason was on the opposite side of the altar, directly across from Benjen and the White Walker.

He had been so mesmerized by the dazzling aurora above that he hadn't noticed the cessation of the blizzard. The howling wind was gone, and there was no snow beneath his feet. The aurora shimmered beautifully, holding anyone who gazed upon it captive. In the distance—

Countless wights, as clear as day, stood in organized ranks, seemingly following a command. Leading them were White Walkers mounted on various creatures: mammoths, ice spiders, direwolves, and skeletal horses, much like the one Benjen rode.

The giant ice spiders, about four to five meters long, walked on slender legs, their blue eyes shimmering. Their huge, grotesque mandibles were stained with fresh blood.

Half of a mammoth's face was rotten, revealing bone and decaying flesh.

This seemingly endless army of the dead, along with hundreds of White Walkers, stood meticulously in front of the altar, as if awaiting something. Yet, they all simultaneously looked up at the approaching duo, without making a sound.

Such silence, where one could seemingly hear a pin drop, was unsettling. It's no wonder Benjen had been so lost in the northern lights' beauty that he hadn't noticed them.

Benjen might have been dead, but the fear stemming from his soul made him shiver.

After all, he was still human at heart. He felt as if he was alone in the seventh circle of hell, under the watchful gaze of countless demons.

"If they realize something's amiss with me..."

"They might tear me apart without a second thought."

Such thoughts made Benjen's fingers tremble as he tightly gripped the reins. For a split second, he contemplated turning and fleeing.

However, at that moment, the White Walker leading him finally made a move.

With a swish of chains, it dismounted and set foot on the icy, transparent ground. Then, like all the undead and other White Walkers, it turned to face Benjen.

It had been weeks, maybe a month or two, since that White Walker last looked at him.

"Damn it!"

Fear enveloped Benjen, and he felt an overwhelming urge to flee. Even though he was undead, he didn't want to be torn apart by these monsters.

Thankfully, after a brief glance, the White Walker turned its attention back to the altar. It unraveled a bundle from its waist, revealing a round object, seemingly a stone. Benjen had been following the creature for so long and only now noticed it carrying something.

"What is that?"

Before he could ponder further, the White Walker placed the black stone on the icy altar. A second later, a towering blue flame ignited, engulfing the stone.

With a rustling sound, the silver-haired White Walker knelt in front of the blazing blue fire, and all the undead, including the other White Walkers, followed suit. It was as if they were worshipping the blue flame.

"What... What is this?"

Benjen was entranced by the blue flame, his mind a blank slate. His fingers trembled, and he felt a compulsion to join the ritual. Without thinking, he dismounted and, mirroring the others, knelt before the captivating blue fire.

Could he have stopped the White Walker earlier? The thought crossed his mind, but now, under the gaze of countless undead and the mesmerizing blue flames, it was too late.

Chapter 699: Legend and Tales

Benjen collapsed to the ground, becoming one with the Army of the Dead. All around him were wights of various shapes and sizes.

Yet his loyal steed remained faithfully by his side, never leaving.

Time seemed to pass in a blur. The Army of the Dead began a slow retreat, heading further north. The icy blue flame continued to burn fiercely, seemingly everlasting.

They scaled a towering mountain, pressing forward into the seemingly endless North. Only when they were far from the icy blue flame did Benjen finally snap out of his trance.

"What... What happened to me?"

Suddenly, clarity struck him, followed by a bone-chilling realization.

From the moment he laid eyes on that icy blue flame, he'd been ensnared, moving and acting without conscious thought. He had become a puppet, just like the others around him, obeying some unknown force.

By the time he regained his senses, he found himself deep within the vast army of the dead.

His skeletal horse 'Red-yellow', which had been with him for years, remained by his side. Even in death, the horse retained memories of its life and stayed with its master. Even when Benjen was lost in a daze, it never strayed.

"Thank you, old friend."

Benjen gently stroked the skeletal mane of the horse. The horse turned its head to gaze at him, its once gentle face now a horrifying visage, half its cheek decayed, revealing bone beneath.

The entire Army of the Dead marched in silence. They crossed the towering mountain range and continued their trek into the mysterious North.

Benjen had no idea where they were heading. But based on the Ice Dragon star he saw each night, they were still moving North.

Strangely, it felt to Benjen as if the Ice Dragon star was getting closer. The moon overhead also seemed to turn a shade darker, its size nearly three times what he remembered from his living days.

"The days grow shorter, and the nights longer."

"Are we walking to the moon?"

Such thoughts danced in Benjen's mind as he looked at the enlarging Ice Dragon star and the moon.

Even in this age, the limits of Westeros's North were beyond imagination. Was there a possibility that it led to the heavens? Could Westeros be as vast as Essos, separated only by the 'Bone Mountains', which might just be an endless icy plain?

Having been educated as the youngest son of Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Benjen knew the world was much larger than they imagined. Now, stepping into lands unknown to man, his imagination ran wild.

He even felt a touch of anticipation, wondering what marvelous sights awaited them.

His mind wandered to stories old Nan used to tell about the Ice Dragon.

"Ice Dragons are much larger than Targaryen dragons. They roam beyond the endless icy plains, sometimes appearing over the Shivering Sea."

"Their bodies are made of snow, their eyes are pale blue crystals. With semi-transparent wings, they breathe cold, enough to freeze an entire ship."

"Legends say there's a place in the Shivering Sea, called Cannibal Bay. Ships that go there never return, allegedly frozen by the roving Ice Dragons."

"They freeze the ships with their icy breath and devour all the humans aboard."

As a child, every tale from old Nan sent shivers down Benjen's spine. But as he grew older, he realized most were just folk tales, meant to scare children into obedience.

"Could we truly encounter the Ice Dragons of old Nan's tales?"

The thought flickered briefly before he shook his head, dismissing such wild imaginings.

He couldn't believe that beyond the known world there'd be dragons larger than Balerion.

Having seen the Black Dread in King's Landing, its immense size and searing heat left an indelible mark on Benjen.

He didn't believe there was anything in this world that could overpower a dragon. If there was, it'd be the domain of gods, perhaps the reason they punished Valyria.

That's why he had urged his brother to surrender, to think of his sister-in-law and their children. The Targaryen conquest of the Seven Kingdoms was inevitable; they had to pay for past mistakes.

Benjen, leading his horse Red-yellow, trudged on with the army, lost in thoughts.

His main goal now was to find his sister, Lyanna Stark. With so many wights and White Walkers, he assumed she must be among them. But he was surrounded by a sea of undead, with no way to search for her.

Any unusual move might draw unwanted attention. While the White Walkers and wights seemed oblivious to his occasional aberrations, Benjen felt it was best not to stand out.

Otherwise, it'd be like "inviting trouble to one's doorstep."

Benjen's mind meandered as they moved, unaware of the passage of time.

In the world of men, day and night had cycled many times, but here, it was eternal night.

Suddenly, the relentless march of the Army of the Dead halted. Benjen, lost in his reverie, was jolted back to reality.

But then, a deafening dragon's roar echoed, shaking the vast icy plains with its fury.

Chapter 700: Updated Chapter 700: The Ice Dragon

The roar, filled with boundless fury, echoed across the icy plains like thunder.

"What?"

Benjen Stark, who was on the verge of madness from the torment, shivered and then regained his senses, looking up at the sky.

Whoosh—

The silent army of the dead around him seemed to awaken all at once, as if they had received some command, and they all looked in the same direction.

In the distant sky, obscured by the blinding snowstorm, a massive ice dragon broke through the blizzard, diving down from the heavens.

"Roar—"

It was ablaze with an icy blue flame, constantly letting out furious roars, seemingly battling some mysterious entity.

Its size was immense, even larger than Balerion, whom Benjen had seen in King's Landing.

The massive ice dragon flapped its wings amidst the howling winds and deafening roars, then plummeted to the ground.

It tried to extinguish the eerie blue flames that engulfed it but to no avail. At that moment, the wights around Benjen let out a strange cry.

It seemed someone had given them another command, and the horde of wights charged at the fallen ice dragon.

"Roar—"

"Roar—"

An endless army of wights rushed towards the injured ice dragon, whose frost-covered body continued to roar in anger, its pale blue crystalline eyes filled with rage.

It was the undisputed ruler of this cold world, with no natural predators. Yet today, it had met a formidable opponent.

The dragon, having just crashed onto the icy surface, creating a small crater and cracks, had injured one of its wings and couldn't take flight immediately.

Benjen was caught in the midst of the wight army, unable to escape, and was forced to move towards the ice dragon.

"Is this the legendary ice dragon?"

Seeing this scene, Benjen felt a chill run down his spine. It was as if his idle thoughts during his lonely and torturous journey had come to life. He had indeed encountered the legendary ice dragon.

Of course, its size wasn't as terrifying as the legends, but it was close, even larger than Balerion he had seen in King's Landing. Its entire body was made of ice and snow, and its blue crystalline eyes were wild.

Countless wights had now climbed onto the dragon, like ants. The ice dragon let out a painful roar, its body slightly trembling. Its massive mouth, filled with sharp teeth, opened once again.

"Whoosh~"

A surge of icy breath came forth, instantly turning a group of wights into powder. These wights charged forward, only to be turned to ash by the dragon's blue breath.

"Roar—"

The ice dragon continued to roar, trying to use its breath and roars to scare off its enemies.

However, the dragon had miscalculated. Its terrifying breath did not deter these mindless dead. They continued to charge fearlessly.

Moreover, the eerie blue flames that engulfed the dragon seemed to burn its very soul, causing it great discomfort, yet it couldn't shake them off.

Having just crashed from the sky, creating a small pit and cracks in the ice, it had injured one of its wings and couldn't fly for the time being.

Benjen was also caught up in the midst of the wight army, unable to escape, and was forced to move towards the dragon.

"This is bad!"

Benjen, seeing this scene, felt no joy, only terror. He was now being pushed closer and closer to the dragon, and he had already seen the power of its icy breath.

The terrifying power of this creature was akin to the fire-breathing dragons of House Targaryen. The icy breath of the Ice Dragon left no room for escape; a mere touch of its frosty exhalation would turn anyone into ashes instantly.

In contrast, the Targaryen dragons, with their fiery breath, at least gave their victims a fighting chance. One could sever the burning part of their body or jump into water to douse the flames. Yet, most still perished, either burned alive, drowned, or bled to death from their injuries. In this light, the Ice Dragon seemed almost merciful, granting a swift, painless end.

But Benjen Stark had no time to ponder these thoughts. He was about to be thrust into the dragon's attack range.

"Damn it!"

The dragon, affected by the eerie blue flames, was greatly restrained. The flames seemed to cloud its judgment. On the other hand, the injuries it sustained, along with the relentless onslaught of the wights, had weakened it considerably.

The endless horde of wights continued their relentless assault, undeterred by fear or fatigue.

Suddenly, the Ice Dragon, as if drawing on its last reserves of strength, let out another agonized roar.

"Roar—"

It then raised its fearsome head and unleashed another torrent of icy breath, its massive tail sweeping away a swath of wights, turning them into a bloody pulp. Those who had managed to climb onto its back were flung away.

Benjen, sensing the imminent danger, quickly took cover behind a massive boulder.

The dragon's icy breath swept over the area, instantly freezing everything in its path. The very ground where Benjen had stood moments ago was now a barren wasteland. The wights that had been at his side were reduced to ashes, their remains scattered in the wind.

The boulder that had been Benjen's refuge was also affected, quickly enveloped in a layer of frost before shattering into countless fragments.

"By the Old Gods!"

Is this a joke? Even the stone was frozen and shattered?

Benjen, who had thought he'd narrowly escaped death, turned to see the Ice Dragon, its massive shadow looming overhead, preparing to unleash another icy onslaught.

"This is it!"

Benjen sighed, resigned to his fate, and closed his eyes, expecting the end.

However, at that very moment, a White Walker, crowned with an icy diadem and wielding an ancient stone sword, appeared atop the dragon's head. With a swift motion, it plunged its sword deep into the dragon's skull.

"Roar!!!"

The Ice Dragon let out a roar, louder and more agonized than any before, echoing across the vast icy plains. It was a cry of pain, despair, and disbelief. But it was also its last.

With a thunderous crash, the dragon's massive body collapsed, its once proud head now lying lifeless on the ground, crushing another wave of wights beneath its weight, sending snow flying in all directions.

Chapter 701: Assassination

Boom!

The massive ice dragon let out a final, desperate roar before crashing heavily onto the icy plains, stirring up a blinding snowstorm.

Benjen Stark, being too close to the impact, was forced to release the reins of his horse, Red. He found himself buried under the snow, gasping for breath.

Ironically, he no longer needed to breathe. Once, he had struggled against this new reality, trying to draw breath into his lifeless body. But over time, he had grown accustomed to the sensation of not breathing for hours on end.

"It's him!"

"He's the Night King!"

As Benjen lay on the ground, waiting for the snowstorm to settle, he caught a glimpse of a figure atop the fallen ice dragon. The White Walker wore a crown of ice and wielded an ancient stone sword. Benjen had encountered the Night King once before in Winterfell. He had narrowly escaped then, but the Night King's visage was etched into his memory.

Not long ago, amidst the army of the dead, Benjen had searched for two individuals: his sister, Lyanna Stark, and the Night King, the most formidable of the White Walkers. He had ventured beyond the Wall, seeking clues about the White Walkers to prepare for the impending war between the living and the dead.

"Night King!"

The sight of the Night King mounting the ice dragon and driving his mysterious stone sword into its skull filled Benjen with a mix of dread and determination. He reached into his chest and grasped the dragonglass dagger hidden there. The cold touch of the dragonglass sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of his undead state.

Benjen concealed the dagger in his sleeve just as his loyal horse, Red, returned. The horse, now a skeletal creature, approached with a gentle demeanor, despite its grotesque appearance.

"Old friend," Benjen whispered, caressing the horse's mane. He believed that their transformation might be linked to the weirwood tree in Whitetree village, where they had both been ambushed by wights.

"Red, leave this place," Benjen urged, sending the horse away with a gentle pat. The skeletal steed hesitated, looking back at Benjen with a longing in its eyes, before disappearing into the snowstorm.

As the snow settled, the massive form of the ice dragon lay still, its body aflame with blue fire. The Night King stood before it, his hands raised, channeling some arcane magic.

Benjen, the black-clad knight, watched intently. With the dragonglass dagger concealed, he stealthily approached the Night King, blending in with the surrounding wights.

A nearby wight growled, its drooling maw twisted in a grotesque grin. But Benjen paid it no mind. His focus was solely on the figure before him, the Night King.

"Die," Benjen muttered under his breath, drawing the dragonglass dagger from his sleeve. With a determined stride, he lunged at the Night King's back.

Chapter 702: Lyanna

Benjen Stark was only a few steps away from the Night King when he swiftly pulled out the hidden dragonglass dagger from his sleeve, aiming straight for the Night King's heart.

"Die!"

Determined to sacrifice himself, Benjen believed that if he could plunge this dagger into the Night King's heart and kill this monstrous leader, even being shattered to pieces would be worth it.

However, at this critical moment, a slender, pale hand suddenly reached out, grabbing Benjen's wrist and positioning itself between him and the Night King.

On the other side, the Night King, who was in front of the corpse of an ice dragon and seemingly casting some magic, sensed something. He slightly turned his head to look behind.

But all he saw was a woman with skin as pale as the moon and long gray hair, standing in front of a wight, preventing it from approaching him.

The Night King's eyes, burning with icy blue flames, narrowed slightly.

Upon closer observation, one could see that the icy blue flames in his eyes were identical to those on his palm and the ice dragon's body.

However, the Night King didn't seem to notice anything unusual. He trusted this female White Walker immensely. Without uttering a word, he turned back to the ice dragon's corpse, continuing his magic.

On the other hand, Benjen, gathering all his courage, had drawn the dragonglass dagger from his sleeve and aimed for the Night King's back. His eyes were solely on the Night King, the root cause of the chaos in the human world. He was so focused on his assassination attempt that he lost awareness of his surroundings.

But to his surprise, just as he was about to strike, a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.

The hand's fingers were slender and pale, exuding a bone-chilling coldness. Benjen shivered.

It wasn't the cold that startled him; he couldn't feel cold anymore. It was the sudden realization of his situation.

He saw the Night King turning his head, his gaze sweeping over.

Only then did Benjen realize how close he had unknowingly gotten to the Night King.

However, his assassination attempt had failed. He was detected by the White Walkers and caught red-handed. He feared what awaited him next would be a gruesome death, perhaps even torment to his soul.

Despair rose in Benjen's heart, but when he looked up, he saw a face he knew all too well.

It was a beautiful face, pale as moonlight. She had the Stark family's signature long face, gray hair, dark lips, and light blue eyes burning with flames. She was intently looking at her younger brother.

"Lyanna."

The Black Knight, Benjen, couldn't help but whisper. He never expected the person who caught him to be his sister, Lyanna.

But before Benjen could say anything more, he was silenced by Lyanna's cold gaze.

Holding Benjen's wrist with one hand, she came close and discreetly slid the dragonglass dagger back into his sleeve.

Meanwhile, not only Lyanna and the Night King noticed the unusual behavior of this wight, but other White Walkers and the ancient Kings of Winter also turned their heads to look at Lyanna and Benjen.

But like the Night King, they only saw Lyanna stopping a 'lost' wight, not detecting any other anomalies. They all turned their attention away.

It wasn't rare for some wights to stray from the commands of the White Walkers. It wasn't a big deal; they just needed to be redirected.

Lyanna Stark, with her cold gaze burning with flames, stared intently at the wight in front of her, not uttering a single word.

She hoped Benjen would understand her intentions, and Benjen subtly nodded in agreement. The siblings, having grown up together, shared an unspoken bond.

Only then did the beautiful woman, with skin as pale as the moonlight and light blue eyes, release Benjen's hand.

"Cough—"

The surrounding White Walkers made a series of noises, and Benjen, pretending to be one of them, coughed a few times before staggering away.

Some time passed, and the Night King, with the icy blue flames in his palm, seemed to have completed his spell. The massive ice dragon's eyes suddenly ignited with flames.

"Roar—"

The ice dragon suddenly rose from the ground, letting out a deafening roar that echoed across the endless icy plains. Its translucent wings spread wide, casting a vast shadow.

The ice dragon, seemingly resurrected from the dead and even appearing to have healed, roared and then, with a powerful push from its sturdy hind legs, took to the sky.

The ice dragon soared into the snowy skies, and Benjen, who had just feigned ignorance, looked up at the disappearing dragon. If he were still human, the adrenaline from the recent events would have drenched his back in cold sweat.

But now, Benjen was no longer human. Yet, the fear from deep within his soul still surfaced.

He knew that it was Lyanna who had saved him. Otherwise, even if he had lunged at the Night King, he probably wouldn't have succeeded.

Because the Night King was clearly not unguarded. The moment Benjen drew the dragonglass dagger, the Night King had sensed some movement.

But Benjen's actions were timely stopped by Lyanna Stark, who stood in front of him, preventing the Night King from noticing any clues and keeping him distracted.

Because most of the Night King's attention was still on reviving the ice dragon, Benjen narrowly escaped.

Although he didn't succeed in assassinating the Night King and even almost got caught, Benjen didn't walk away empty-handed. He saw his sister Lyanna, whom he had been longing to see. This was one of the main reasons Benjen had ventured beyond the Wall in place of Eddard.

And from the brief eye contact and subtle changes in grip strength between the siblings, Benjen felt a glimmer of hope. This confirmed Eddard's and his initial suspicions: Lyanna had indeed been resurrected as a White Walker, but like him, she seemed to retain some memories from her past life and wasn't entirely controlled.

She had deliberately left many signs and hints, perhaps to tell the Stark brothers that she was still 'alive' and wanted them to find her.

Chapter 703: The Black Necklace

"Benjin Stark."

The Night King successfully tamed an ice dragon and, riding atop it, departed through the blinding snowstorm.

Meanwhile, Benjin Stark had retrieved his steed, Redyellow. Not long ago, he had sent it away, resolute in his decision to assassinate the Night King.

Regrettably, the assassination attempt failed. The Night King was not unprepared, and Benjin nearly exposed himself. Had it not been for his sister, Lyanna, intervening at the last moment, Benjin might have already met his end.

The loyal old horse hadn't gone far. When Benjin found it, it was still lingering not far from the army of the dead, seemingly waiting for its master's change of heart.

Upon seeing Benjin again, Redyellow excitedly left hoofprints in the snow, trotting over to nuzzle its master with its grotesque head.

"I'm sorry," Benjin murmured, gently stroking Redyellow's mane, apologizing to the old friend he had just sent away.

But then, a cold, raspy voice of a woman echoed from behind him.

Lyanna Stark, who had saved Benjin's life just moments ago, appeared amidst the snowstorm. Her face was cold, her skin pale as moonlight. Her blue eyes flickered with a fiery glow, and she still wore the emblem of the direwolf on her chest.

Lyanna looked much the same as she had in life, her Stark blood evident. Aside from her excessive pallor, she looked as she did before her death, certainly better than she did afterward.

Lyanna had died in childbirth at the Tower of Joy. The hot climate of Dorne had not been kind to her remains. Her brother, Eddard, had carried her body from Dorne and then transported it all the way back to Winterfell. By the time she was buried, her body had decayed so badly that vast amounts of seafood and abalones were needed to mask the stench.

However, after she and the past Kings in the North were resurrected by the Night King, her skeletal remains transformed into a body made of ice crystals, restoring her to her former appearance.

Including her father, Rickard Stark, and her brother, Brandon, they all looked as they did in life. However, after interacting with them, Lyanna realized that, unlike her, they seemed to lack consciousness and were entirely under the Night King's control.

From that point on, Lyanna acted cautiously, never revealing her secret. She left multiple signs, hoping her brothers, Eddard and Benjin, would notice.

The Stark brothers did not disappoint. Eddard noticed the subtle hints left by Lyanna, believing she retained her memories from life.

Subsequently, Benjin volunteered to search for Lyanna in place of Eddard. After all, Eddard had his own family and children and was the pillar of the Stark family, while Benjin was alone.

In the end, Benjin found his sister just in time.

Because Benjin had gone to find Redyellow and Lyanna had waited for the Night King to leave on his ice dragon, they were now at a location far from the army of the dead. The heavy snowstorm around them ensured that no one could see them.

"Lyanna!"

"Benjin!"

The siblings, who had been separated for so long and even faced death, embraced tightly. Now that both had become part of the undead, there was no barrier between them.

Reunited after so long, they had much to share. Benjin recounted his journey after leaving the Wall, including his ambush and death at Whitetree village, his resurrection as a wight, his encounter with an ice dragon, and finally seeing Lyanna.

Lyanna, in turn, shared her experiences after her resurrection.

The Night King had come to the crypts of Winterfell and resurrected the past Kings in the North, including some recent members of the Stark family. It seemed to be related to the strength of their bloodline.

Some of the past Kings in the North did not awaken, and while Lyanna wasn't a particularly significant member of the Stark family, she too was resurrected. She speculated that there might be some criteria for selection.

From the moment she opened her eyes, Lyanna Stark had all her memories from life. After the crypts of Winterfell collapsed, she followed the ancestors out.

"Father and Brandon don't have their memories?"

Upon hearing this, a look of disappointment crossed Benjin's face.

Lyanna, always sharp-witted, had noticed the difference between herself and the others. She had discreetly approached her father and brother to test them, but to no avail.

"That's right," Lyanna confirmed, her face calm.

She had been alone among the army of the undead for years, with no one to talk to, surrounded by the dead. That she hadn't gone mad was a testament to her mental strength. She had long accepted the reality of her father and brother's state.

"But, Lyanna, why do you have your memories?"

Benjin, though slightly disheartened, quickly focused on the main issue.

Lyanna didn't hesitate. "It's because of this," she said, unfastening a necklace from around her neck and handing it to Benjin.

The necklace was unremarkable, with a metal chain and an irregularly shaped black oily stone as its pendant. It seemed ill-suited for a beauty like Lyanna Stark.

"It was a gift from Rhaegar," she revealed.

Chapter 704: Questioning

Lyanna Stark, once the young daughter of the Duke of the North, always wore this seemingly unattractive, dark necklace around her neck.

"It was a gift from Rhaegar," Lyanna said calmly, revealing her relationship with Rhaegar after her resurrection.

Years amidst the army of the dead had changed Lyanna more than anyone could imagine. Living for years in a world filled with ghouls and zombies without losing her sanity was something most couldn't achieve. Yet, what Lyanna didn't know was that her relationship with Rhaegar had already been exposed, and the rumors of her abduction and violation by him had been cleared.

"Prince Rhaegar?"

Benjen Stark, upon hearing his sister's words, took the dark necklace from her, pausing for a moment. Seeing Lyanna in person and hearing her story, Benjen finally believed that his sister had eloped with Rhaegar out of love, not by force.

The war that had ensued was based on a misunderstanding. Their father and elder brother had gone to King's Landing seeking justice, only to die in vain. Their father, Rickard, had demanded a trial by combat, but the Mad King chose 'fire' as his champion, burning Rickard alive in his armor, leaving only a charred corpse. Their brother had been strangled trying to save their father.

"Lyanna, why didn't you clarify things back then?"

"Why?"

Holding the black necklace, Benjen couldn't help but question his sister. Their father and elder brother had believed that Lyanna was abducted by Prince Rhaegar and went to King's Landing for justice. But neither Lyanna nor Rhaegar came forward, vanishing without a trace.

Their irresponsible actions for love led to the nation's division, wars, and alliances against the Iron Throne. If Lyanna and Rhaegar had clarified things, perhaps the subsequent events wouldn't have occurred, and their father and brother wouldn't have died in vain.

Facing her brother's questions, Lyanna remained silent, regret evident on her pale face.

"How is he?" After a long silence, Lyanna asked in a hoarse voice.

"Who?" Benjen, seeing his sister's silence, took a deep breath and inquired.

"My son," Lyanna replied without hesitation.

"What's he like now?"

"What's his name?"

Before giving birth, Lyanna knew of Rhaegar's death in battle. Her only solace after her resurrection was their child. She had entrusted him to her brother, Eddard, asking him to take care of the boy.

However, she knew that her son couldn't bear the Targaryen name, or he would be killed by Robert.

"Your son?" Benjen was puzzled. The public trial had confirmed that Rhaegar hadn't violated Lyanna, but there was no mention of a son.

But Benjen was quick to connect the dots. "When Eddard returned from the South with your body, he also brought a baby boy, claiming him as his bastard."

"Jon Snow."

"That's the name of Eddard's bastard."

Benjen noticed the resemblance between Lyanna and Jon, which he hadn't seen before.

"Don't worry, Lyanna," Benjen reassured her. "He's in King's Landing, being raised by our sister-in-law, Lady Catelyn. Jon is doing well, tall and strong. He's skilled in horsemanship and swordsmanship, even better than Robb."

"Jon Snow," Lyanna murmured, relieved to hear her son was well.

She then looked at the necklace in Benjen's hand. "Let's continue our conversation. Rhaegar gave me this necklace. He said he had dreams about the future and told me 'the dragon has three heads.'"

"The dragon has three heads?" Benjen asked, puzzled.

Lyanna continued, "Rhaegar said this necklace was made of a precious material that would play a crucial role in the future. It also helped preserve my memories, allowing me to remain lucid after my resurrection."

Chapter 705: The Oily Black Stone

"Really?"

Upon hearing Lyanna's words, Benjen Stark couldn't help but lower his gaze to the unremarkable black stone necklace in his hand.

"But I can't see anything special."

To Benjen, it seemed like an ordinary stone necklace, except its surface was slightly oily, as if it could absorb light.

He tried adjusting the angle. The Northern Lights were dazzling in the sky above, but any light that shone on the stone was absorbed completely.

The stone, having absorbed the light, seemed to become even purer and darker, as if staring directly into an abyss. As Benjen looked closely at the small black stone, he felt an uncomfortable dizziness.

Logically, his body was already a corpse; he was dead, only able to move. He shouldn't have been able to feel cold or heat. Yet, when he looked at this small black stone, he felt nauseous.

This discomfort seemed to directly affect Benjen's soul, making him feel uneasy even in his undead state.

"This feeling... it's so familiar."

Benjen, fighting the dizziness and nausea, quickly moved the stone away from his eyes.

He then took deep breaths, kneeling on one knee, as if his very soul had been drained.

"Don't stare at the stone for too long, Benjen."

"Because it will devour even your gaze."

Lyanna's voice rang out.

She hadn't stopped Benjen earlier, letting her younger brother learn the hard way, as she had experienced the same thing before. But she knew it wasn't dangerous.

"I remember this feeling now!"

"Lyanna!"

"I've seen it!"

Benjen, kneeling on the ground, gasping for breath as if his lungs were a broken bellows, clutched the black stone necklace and spoke.

"Hmm?"

Lyanna was taken aback. She hadn't expected Benjen to have encountered such a mysterious and terrifying object.

"Yes, I remember."

"I've seen it!"

Benjen recalled the familiar sensation. Not long ago, he had followed a White Walker north and arrived at an icy altar.

The White Walker seemed to be transporting something important. It dismounted and approached the icy altar step by step.

Benjen had wanted to stop it, instinctively feeling that the White Walker was up to something crucial. Anything important to the White Walkers would surely be detrimental to humans.

Unfortunately, Benjen hadn't been fully resolved at the time. He watched as the White Walker placed a much larger black stone on the icy altar than the one he now held.

The stone on the altar then ignited with a blue flame. As Benjen watched, he felt the world spin and lost consciousness, becoming a mindless wight until they moved away from the flames.

"Is that so?"

Lyanna, hearing her brother's experience, appeared thoughtful.

She hadn't been near the altar at the time and hadn't witnessed the event. But as a 'high-ranking spy' among the White Walkers, her understanding of the black stone was more profound.

"This oily black stone is different from the dry black stone used by the Valyrian Dragonlords in their constructions. Those stones were forged with fire and magic."

There are several black stone structures on the continent of Westeros. Dragonstone Castle is made of black stone, as is the base of the Hightower in Oldtown.

Although they look similar to the black stone necklace Rhaegar gave to Lyanna, they are not the same material.

"I don't know its exact purpose, and I don't know if it's found elsewhere in the world."

"But there's no doubt that it's essential to the Night King."

Lyanna spoke thoughtfully, then asked,

"Benjen, do you know why we suddenly attacked the Iron Islands?"

"Hmm?"

Benjen was slightly taken aback, then nodded. He had heard about the event while imprisoned in the dungeons of Winterfell.

The White Walkers had bypassed the main battlefield at the Neck and ambushed the Iron Islands, appearing behind the allied forces and nearly annihilating them.

If it weren't for the King riding a dragon and repelling the Night King in battle, the Long Night might have engulfed Westeros, extinguishing all hope.

"Was it to flank and ambush the allied forces from behind?"

Benjen Stark replied, but Lyanna shook her head, refuting his answer.

"No, he didn't care about the human alliance."

"He just wanted us to find something on the Iron Islands."

Benjen was taken aback. What could be so important to the Night King?

His gaze fell on the black stone necklace, and he wondered if it was the stone...

"It's this oily black stone."

Lyanna didn't keep him in suspense and spoke directly.

"He wanted us to find this stone that can absorb all light. He seemed to sense that such a stone was on the Iron Islands."

"And after we landed on Pyke, we found this oily black stone in the castle of House Greyjoy."

"It's what the Ironborn call... the Seastone Chair."

Chapter 706: Sea Monster

"Your Grace, these are some of the significant events that have recently transpired in the Eastern Continent."

In King's Landing, within the Red Keep's Small Council chamber.

While the endless icy plains are rife with turmoil, the world of men remains largely at peace, though some regions are embroiled in conflict.

Master of Whisperers, Varys, presents a report to the council, detailing the latest intelligence his little birds have gathered from foreign lands.

"The trade city-states are not as tranquil as they seem."

"Merchant ships from Lys and fishing vessels from Ib appear to have been attacked by a sea monster."

"Debris from some of these wrecked ships, along with their cargo, has recently washed ashore in Braavos. The bite marks on them are horrifying, and no survivors have been found."

Varys, the bald eunuch, speaks in his usual soft and delicate tone. Tyrion Lannister, serving as the King's personal advisor, strokes his beard and jests, "I've heard about this. It seems to be causing quite a stir among the sailors."

Braavos, situated on the western coast of Essos and closest to the North, has recently seen many shipwrecks floating ashore.

Rumors suggest that several fleets from Ib, Lys, and Braavos have vanished at sea. People speculate that the debris belongs to these missing fleets.

No one can fathom what they might have encountered, but the wreckage reportedly bears terrifying scars, as if torn apart by some monstrous creature.

Hence, sailors crossing the Narrow Sea are abuzz with tales of sea monster attacks. While many are superstitious, Tyrion, not one to easily believe in myths, remains skeptical about the existence of such creatures.

"I think it might not be as mysterious as they claim. Perhaps it's the work of a storm."

The King's advisor shrugs as he speaks.

"Perhaps, Lord Tyrion."

"But that doesn't explain those terrifying bite marks."

"Regardless, we have nothing to fear. Even if there were such a creature, we have His Grace to rely on."

Varys doesn't engage in a debate with Tyrion. He discreetly glances at Viserys, seated at the head of the table, noting the King's expressionless face, and continues.

"Norvos has recently experienced a mysterious forest fire. Despite significant efforts, it remains unquenched."

"The bearded priests believe it's the work of followers of the Red God, accusing them of using sorcery to ignite the flames."

"As a result, they're expelling and executing all followers of the Red God within their territory, declaring them unwelcome."

Forest fires in the mountains of Norvos are common due to the dry air and mountainous terrain. Such incidents occur almost annually.

Myles Toyne, the newly appointed Hand of the King and former leader of the Golden Company, exchanges a glance with the Minister of Agriculture, Elyster Florent.

Myles, a seasoned warrior but politically naive, had done his homework before arriving in King's Landing. He knew he needed allies in the treacherous political landscape of the capital.

Elyster Florent, representing the old noble houses, extended an olive branch to the new Hand. The Florents, backed by the powerful Tyrells and other loyalists from Robert Baratheon's era, sought a place in the new regime.

Recognizing the political advantage, Myles accepted the offer, ensuring he wasn't entirely isolated in King's Landing.

Elyster, sensing Myles' thoughts, speaks up, "Your Grace, and esteemed council members, forest fires in Norvos are a yearly occurrence, varying in intensity."

"This year's fire, although vast, doesn't pose a significant threat to Norvos."

"The bearded priests' sudden animosity towards the Red God's followers must have an ulterior motive."

Myles nods in agreement, "Perhaps it's related to the prophecies of the old monk atop the Sinner's Steps. His predictions have often come true."

He then turns to Varys, "Lord Varys, we should keep a close eye on this matter."

Having previously roamed the city-states of Essos as the leader of the Golden Company, Myles is well-acquainted with the intricacies of each city. He knows of the Sinner's Steps in Norvos, leading to an ancient temple housing a legendary old monk said to foresee the future.

The council members murmur among themselves, discussing the implications of Myles' words.

Varys, ever the composed spymaster, acknowledges, "Understood, Lord Toyne."

"I'll have my little birds monitor the situation in Norvos closely."

Chapter 707: Failed Eastern Expansion

The final two matters were at hand.

Master of Whispers, Varys, began.

"The Three Daughters have plunged into civil war, and it seems the Dothraki's eastward march has faltered."

Long-standing grievances between Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh in the Three Daughters had been ignited when the Imperial fleet made successive visits to these three trading city-states.

Now, Tyrosh had declared war on both Lys and Myr. The Archon of Tyrosh was loudly proclaiming his intent to raze Myr to the ground once more and to hang every governor of Lys from the trees.

The two sides had begun a standoff in the waters near the Stepstones, which soon escalated into several fierce battles. On the sea, the Tyroshi fleet dealt a heavy blow to the Lyseni, while on land, both sides clashed on the Stepstones and the disputed territories.

The Archon of Tyrosh had hired many elite mercenary companies and had managed to seize much of the disputed territories. However, a counterattack from the combined forces of Myr and Lys reclaimed some of the land.

The situation on the battlefield had become tense, but overall, the Tyroshi seemed to have the upper hand. The Lyseni, known for their refined and hedonistic ways, were being soundly defeated.

The Lyseni, not particularly skilled in warfare and even less so than the decadent Tyroshi, found salvation in the reinforcements from Myr.

The seasoned pirates of the Narrow Sea, fearless in battle, brutally rammed the Tyroshi fleet, scattering it. They then engaged in fierce boarding actions, halting the Tyroshi fleet's advance.

On land, the timely arrival of two thousand mercenaries from the Company of the Cat, friends of Salladhor Saan, also turned the tide. Otherwise, the Lyseni might have been completely overrun by the Tyroshi mercenaries.

Several intense battles had thoroughly frightened the Lyseni governors who were overseeing the frontlines. They all retreated to their main camp, refusing to personally oversee the battles any longer.

They also clung to the pirate governor, granting him and Humfrey Hightower significant command within the combined forces of Myr and Lys, charging them with halting the Tyroshi advance.

The young governor, Humfrey Hightower, had his brother-in-law, Trystane Ormollen, accompanying the other Lyseni governors in the rear camp, secretly monitoring the other governors of Lys.

As for the other news, the Dothraki, who had started moving eastward years ago, seemed to have encountered some formidable resistance. Some of their khalasars had begun to reappear near Vaes Dothrak.

It appeared they had clashed with a powerful nation on their eastward journey. The Dothraki had invaded this nation, leading to a brutal war.

The Dothraki suffered a significant defeat, with heavy casualties. They were forced to retreat west of the Bone Mountains, licking their wounds and returning to their homeland.

"The civil war in the Three Daughters is good news for us," said Oberyn Martell, the Master of Laws, his fingers interlaced as he sat.

"We can continue to expand our influence on the eastern continent, perhaps even annex these three trading city-states along with the disputed territories, or make them our vassals."

However, Illyrio Mopatis, the Master of Coin from Pentos, immediately voiced his opposition.

"Your Grace," he began, addressing the emperor, "and Lord Oberyn, we are currently in a crucial phase of economic reform. It's not the right time for wars, which could easily destabilize our fragile economic system."

Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the King, chimed in, "If we could make the Three Daughters submit without shedding a drop of blood, that would be ideal."

The young emperor with silver hair, seated on the throne, nodded slightly and spoke, "We have more pressing enemies awaiting us."

Varys cleared his throat, changing the topic, "Regarding the Dothraki, these barbarians returning to the Great Grass Sea after a severe setback in the east is not good news for any of us."

"They might vent their frustrations from the east on us."

After all, the Dothraki, known as the 'Destroyers of Civilizations,' were infamous for their expertise in slaughter and destruction. It was somewhat satisfying to hear they had met their match in the east.

But the question remained: why had the Dothraki, who had never shown interest in the east, suddenly become so intent on moving in that direction? What had driven them to risk crossing the Bone Mountains?

"By the way, Your Grace," Varys suddenly recalled, "from the intelligence I've gathered, it's said that the mysterious 'Mengo Kao' places great trust in the shadowbinders from the east."

"Because they've seen three individuals wearing red lacquered masks frequently entering and exiting Mengo Kao's tent in Vaes Dothrak."

Chapter 708: Building the Shrine

"Your Grace."

"Your Grace."

The routine council meeting in the presence of the king concluded. The council members rose to leave, and Viserys retreated to his chambers.

Jon Connington's unexpected death in Dorne not only led to a change in the position of the Hand of the King but also left the position of the Stormlands' governor vacant.

The governor's position wasn't hereditary. It was based on merit and wasn't fixed to a particular family. Viserys could appoint someone as the governor of the Stormlands, or the nobles of the Stormlands could elect one themselves.

After Jon's death, he left behind only an unborn child, whose gender was still unknown. Even out of respect, Viserys couldn't appoint the child in Lady Beth's womb as the next governor of the Stormlands.

Doing so would severely undermine the system he had established, and no one would take the empire's governorship seriously thereafter.

Thus, Viserys didn't appoint or parachute a governor to the Stormlands. Instead, he allowed the Stormlands' nobles to elect a governor for the Iron Throne's approval.

Jon Connington's wife, Lady Beth Brecken, was heavily pregnant and close to her due date. So, Viserys allowed her to stay temporarily in the Red Keep, vacating the Hand's tower for the new Hand, Myles Toyne.

Pregnant Lady Beth Brecken was taken care of by the Red Keep's steward. She would return to Griffin's Roost after the child's birth. For now, Griffin's Roost was managed by the Connington family's steward.

Viserys also had Lady Beth send a letter to the Connington family's steward, instructing him to build a shrine for Jon Connington in Griffin's Roost.

This order puzzled the steward and maester of Griffin's Roost. Shrines were typically built for the Seven Gods or ancestors, but building one for someone who had just passed away was unusual.

The steward and maester felt an eerie chill, as if Jon Connington's spirit was watching them from some corner. Although they were uneasy and didn't fully understand, they had no choice but to follow Lady Beth's orders.

So, construction began in Griffin's Roost for a shrine with a statue of Jon Connington.

Viserys had his reasons for this. He had lent Jon Connington a spark of divinity to help him grow rapidly and then prepared other posthumous arrangements for him.

He planned to place Jon Connington's soul in the Connington family's shrine, making him the guardian spirit of Griffin's Roost. With the offerings from his descendants, Jon would continue to exist and bless his future generations.

After the council meeting, Viserys returned to his chambers to rest. Meanwhile, the sounds of clashing weapons echoed from the Red Keep's garden.

In the spacious garden, under the bright sun, two girls of similar height sparred with divine weapons.

One wore the white armor of the Kingsguard, while the other donned silver armor with a red gem on her necklace. Their brown hair flowed over their cold armor.

Both didn't wear helmets. Their figures moved swiftly, and their weapons clashed continuously. The weapons they held were luxurious, enough to make any knight outside envious.

One wielded the Dragon Slayer, and the other, the infamous Dark Sister, both made of Valyrian steel.

However, the redhead in the white cloak seemed to have the upper hand with her unpredictable swordsmanship. After a few rounds, she managed to disarm her opponent, pointing her sword at her throat. She sheathed her sword and curiously asked, "Your Highness, are you distracted lately?"

"I'm sorry, Master Mya."

Princess Rhaenys felt a bit embarrassed, realizing that her swordsmanship teacher had seen through her disguise.

"It's alright. I've been there too," Mya, older than Rhaenys and even Viserys, replied. She had once roamed the streets of Valyria, becoming a mercenary to survive, experiencing many life-and-death situations.

"What's it like in the ruins of Valyria? I'm curious," Rhaenys asked, intrigued.

"I asked Viserys, but he didn't say anything."

Mya looked at her strangely, then shook her head with a light laugh, "There are terrifying creatures there, Your Highness. You wouldn't be interested."

The two girls walked into the Red Keep's garden corridor, where green vines covered the overhead trellis, casting dappled shadows in the bright sunlight.

"I once loved someone, Your Highness," Mya suddenly said, changing the topic.

"Really? Who was it?" Rhaenys asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Just a boy next door," Mya reminisced with a smile, which she quickly hid. "He had red hair like mine, was handsome, and sang beautifully. He often sang for me."

"Really? What happened then?" Rhaenys pressed.

"What happened? He died," Mya replied with a shrug.

"Ah?" Rhaenys was taken aback.

"So, the lesson is, if you love someone, seize the moment. Don't wait and live with regrets," Mya concluded.

Chapter 709: Battle of Myths

Chapter 709: The Battle of Myths

Several days later, King's Landing.

To test something, Viserys once again ventured into the dungeons beneath the Red Keep.

Once, Rhaenys led the Golden Company to conquer King's Landing. After capturing the Red Keep, she had the dragon bones, which were stored in the dungeons, moved back to the surface.

However, after Viserys arrived in King's Landing, these dragon bones were returned to the dungeons. The reason being that seeing these bones daily affected one's mood.

Now, Viserys sat surrounded by dragon bones. In front of him was a statue of the Faceless God, a massive white raven skull, with Myles Toyne and Jon Connington by his side.

Viserys had long wanted to unlock the secrets of this raven skull. But he hadn't had the chance until recently, when he had ample free time and was in his best condition. Only then did he dare to attempt to uncover the mysteries of this raven skull.

"Are you sure about this?" Myles Toyne asked, his voice heavy with concern. On the other side, the soul of Jon Connington floated nearby, also showing signs of worry.

Having been aided by Viserys's divine flame, Jon Connington felt that as long as Viserys's flame didn't extinguish, he would never fade. Once, Jon couldn't sense the presence of divinity. But now, with Viserys's help, he could feel the terrifying power contained within the raven skull.

"Is it truly the skull of the Storm God?" he pondered. "Is the Storm God an ancient raven?"

Unfortunately, no one could answer his questions. Everyone present wasn't a true deity. Myles Toyne was the closest, but he was merely a divine thought.

Compared to the two, Viserys seemed much calmer. The power within the raven skull was immense, and accordingly, his expectations were high.

"What could it be?" he wondered.

Then, the faith flame in Viserys's forehead ignited, and he placed his hand on the white raven skull.

Suddenly, a golden light illuminated the entire underground world of the Red Keep. This startled Rhaenys, who had just entered the dungeon. The brown-haired girl stared in disbelief at the dazzling scene before her, even forgetting to breathe.

Meanwhile, Viserys was immersed in the world of the white raven skull, oblivious to the outside.

Before him was a sky covered in dark clouds, and below, a raging sea. He seemed to be floating in mid-air, overlooking everything.

The wind howled, waves roared, and lightning filled the sky as a torrential rain poured down.

"Where am I?" Viserys wondered, looking up at the oppressive sky and then down at the furious sea. However, he remained calm, knowing that everything he saw was just a remnant of the past and not a current event.

Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced through the clouds, overshadowing the thunder. A flock of black ravens broke through the clouds, diving towards the tumultuous sea.

"It's that raven," Viserys noted, spotting a raven significantly larger than the others. Its eyes blazed with anger, its feathers sharp as blades, and it let out a deafening cry.

"It's furious," he observed. "Who is it fighting?"

As Viserys pondered, a loud roar emerged from the sea, making the already violent waves even more tumultuous. He quickly looked towards the sea.

A massive sea creature, covered in cold scales with a long fin on its back, emerged. Its red eyes were filled with madness, seemingly challenging the storm and thunder-wielding giant raven above.

"What is that?!" Even Viserys, who had seen many wonders, was taken aback by this mythical battle.

The sea creature was enormous, easily hundreds, if not thousands, of meters long.

Compared to it, the raven, which was the size of a calf, seemed less significant.

"Could it be the Drowned God?" Viserys wondered, witnessing this mythical battle. He speculated about the creature's identity.

In the faith of the Ironborn, the Drowned God and the Storm God are eternal enemies. If the raven was the Storm God, then its opponent must be the Drowned God.

"Is the Drowned God a sea dragon?" he pondered. "No, more accurately, it seems like a giant sea serpent."

The creature had cold scales and marine features like fins, but it didn't have wings and remained submerged, suggesting it couldn't fly.

Viserys forced himself to remain calm and think. At first, he associated the creature with dragons from his memory. However, upon closer inspection, they only looked similar on the surface.

This creature was more of a giant sea serpent than a sea dragon.

Chapter 710: The Man on the Wooden Ship

Amidst the fierce battle between the crows and the sea serpent, tumultuous waves surged, and dark clouds loomed overhead, accompanied by the roaring thunder.

The two entities clashed with such ferocity that they seemed blinded by rage. Countless crows perished amidst the towering waves, their dark bodies blanketing the sea's surface. The massive sea serpent, on the other hand, bore numerous wounds from the thunder's relentless strikes, its blood staining the ocean red.

Yet, the scent of this blood did not attract any bloodthirsty marine predators. Instead, they hid in fear, trembling in the distance.

Viserys was utterly engrossed in this 'battle of the gods,' witnessing the legendary creatures' combat until they were drenched in blood. However, a sight that even took Viserys by surprise unfolded.

From the raging waves emerged an old wooden boat, and aboard it stood a human draped in a gray cloak!

He bore an ancient longsword on his back, and with unmatched skill, he steered the seemingly fragile boat through the stormy seas, heading straight for the sea serpent. "What?"

Viserys, previously engrossed in the epic battle, now had his attention entirely captivated by this boat.

He observed the boat, which narrowly escaped being capsized multiple times by the waves, and its sailor. Despite facing imminent death, the sailor resolutely steered towards the sea serpent.

"Who is he?"

Viserys was taken aback. In his eyes, such boat-handling skills were unparalleled.

He recalled his younger days when he accompanied the Dragonstone fleet on an expedition to Storm's End and witnessed firsthand how insignificant human-controlled ships appeared amidst the waves.

Even ships much larger than this wooden boat struggled to remain stable in such waves. Yet, the waves caused by the crow and the sea serpent were comparable to the legendary storms of the Narrow Sea.

And here, at the storm's epicenter, this dilapidated boat, though seemingly on the brink of capsizing multiple times, continued its relentless charge towards the sea serpent.

"Who is he?"

"What does he intend to do?"

Viserys, watching the boat and its robust cloaked sailor, pondered these questions.

He wasn't sure of the era he was witnessing, but he was certain that such a human and this battle would be etched in history.

Viserys decided that once this event concluded, he would delve into historical records to uncover the origins of the cloaked swordsman and the terrifying sea serpent.

However, for now, he was more concerned about what would transpire next. The sea serpent, engrossed in its aerial battle with the crow, failed to notice the approaching boat.

The crow, enveloped in thunder, seemed to be intentionally distracting the sea serpent for the human's sake. It continuously emitted sharp, piercing cries, summoning thunder to divert the sea serpent's attention.

Its flight was swift, piercing through layers of dark clouds, accompanied by its high-pitched cries.

However, just as the boat neared the massive body of the sea serpent, the cloaked sailor, whose face remained obscured, discarded his oar. He stood at the boat's bow and drew his longsword.

"What is he planning?"

Viserys, observing from above, was once again taken aback.

His astonishment was short-lived, as the massive sea serpent finally took notice of the 'insignificant' intruder. With a thunderous roar, it collided with the boat, shattering it instantly. Debris floated on the water's surface, and the sailor vanished beneath the waves.

"What a pity."

Viserys sighed.

He had anticipated that the sailor, with his exceptional skills, would perform some astonishing feat. Yet, in the end, the sea serpent detected him and reduced the boat to splinters.

His attention returned to the ongoing battle between the sea serpent and the crow. He believed the sailor was doomed, as surviving such turbulent waters seemed impossible.

The crow, too, noticed the sailor's plight and emitted an enraged cry.

It seemed the crow had also prepared extensively for this battle. While the sea serpent could summon waves reaching the skies, the crow could conjure storms and thunder to continuously bombard the serpent.

Yet, neither seemed to gain the upper hand. The crow couldn't dive into the waves to confront the sea serpent directly, and the sea serpent lacked wings to ascend to the skies. Their battle seemed destined for a stalemate.

However, an unexpected turn of events occurred.

"Thud—"

The sailor, who had been capsized moments earlier, managed to climb onto the sea serpent's back. Coughing up seawater, he gripped the serpent's scales tightly. With determination in his eyes, he began his arduous ascent towards the creature's head.

Viserys, observing from above, held his breath.

"This man..."

He felt an overwhelming sense of tension, as if he were the sailor, pushing forward towards his goal without hesitation.

Unfortunately, the sailor's sword seemed to have been lost in the waves during the capsizing.

Viserys resisted the urge to retrieve it for him, knowing this was merely a memory from the past.

"Did he ultimately succeed?"

Viserys pondered, still uncertain of the outcome.

Suddenly, the crow, enveloped in thunder, dived towards the sea's surface, reaching an altitude it had previously avoided, risking being struck by the sea serpent's tail or the waves.

However, the crow's speed was unmatched. Braving the risks, it swooped down, grasping the longsword in its beak, and then soared back into the sky, narrowly evading the sea serpent's powerful strike.

Hovering above the sailor, the crow released the sword, letting it plummet downwards.

Chapter 711: The Grey Sea King

Amidst the turbulent waves, the sea serpent, known to many as the White Walker of the seas, had taken notice of the descending sword. It bared its fanged maw, letting out a roar of fury, seemingly intending to shatter the blade. However, it was a moment too late.

The sword, as if guided by the gods, landed precisely in the hands of the man clad in a grey cloak.

By now, his attire was drenched by the icy sea, and his hood had fallen, revealing a mane of grey hair and a face of ordinary yet unwavering determination. His eyes, a matching shade of grey, were filled with resolve.

"Die!"

With newfound vigor, he wielded the sword, charging towards the head of the sea serpent. Raising the blade high, he thrust it down with all his might.

"ROAR!!!"

The colossal sea serpent, the very embodiment of ancient terror, let out a roar that echoed louder than before, its soundwaves pushing the raven above further away. The sword seemed to possess a terrifying magic, causing unparalleled harm to the sea serpent.

"He actually succeeded!"

"What will happen next?"

Willas, who had been intently observing the battle below, felt a surge of emotions.

He hadn't anticipated that igniting the divine fire within the raven's skull would reveal such a heart-stirring battle.

The raven, pushed back by the waves, shared Willas's focus, its sharp cries piercing the air.

For the man below was its chosen 'fortunate one'.

The raven had bestowed upon him the weapon capable of slaying the sea serpent and a treasure that allowed him to navigate the treacherous waves. All this was to ensure that this seemingly insignificant mortal could assassinate its arch-nemesis and obtain the coveted prize.

Now that the man had succeeded, joy and anticipation gleamed in the raven's eyes. It was eager to descend and extract the fire seed from the serpent, but its inherent caution held it back. It needed to be certain of the serpent's demise.

However, in a twist of fate, as the sea serpent neared its end, it dragged its body deeper into the sea, pulling the hero who had slain it into the icy depths.

The raven, witnessing this, let out a sharp cry, diving towards the sea, hoping to retrieve the fire seed before it was lost.

Yet, it hesitated at the last moment, fearing a trap set by the serpent.

The raven, ever suspicious, hovered above the sea, torn between action and caution. Meanwhile, the relentless sea continued to swallow the massive body of the sea serpent and the hero who had vanquished it. The boiling blood painted the waters red.

The young hero, with his grey cloak and hair, tried to break free, but the cold waters and the serpent's blood seemed to nullify the magical properties of his treasures. He was dragged deeper, his silent screams of despair echoing in the abyss.

Willas, having witnessed this tragic scene, felt a storm of emotions. He began to suspect the identity of the grey-haired hero, recalling legends of old.

As Willas pondered, the scene before him shifted.

An older man, with grey hair and eyes, wearing a driftwood crown, stood defiantly against a storm, drawing his sword and challenging the heavens. Behind him were the warriors of the Iron Islands.

The raven, now larger and more menacing, navigated the storm, its beak sharper, summoning even fiercer winds and rain. The skies darkened with thunderclouds.

"Of course."

Willas, recognizing the scene, had an epiphany.

The older man was none other than the young hero who had slain the sea serpent. Time had passed, and he had aged, but he had grown in power and legend.

He was the Grey Sea King of the Ironborn legends, standing in a hall built from the bones of the sea serpent, Nagga. The serpent's mouth served as his throne, its ribs as the hall's pillars. The walls were adorned with tapestries woven from silver seaweed, and the warriors feasted at a star-shaped table, their seats crafted from mother-of-pearl.

As the divine fire delved deeper into the white raven's skull, Willas absorbed fragments of its memories, understanding the events that had transpired.

He learned of the enmity between the storm god and the drowned god, and how the sea serpent, Nagga, was not the latter but the world's first sea dragon.

The raven and Nagga were arch-enemies, their battles often taking place near the Iron Islands, causing much distress to the inhabitants.

The Grey Sea King, having witnessed the devastation, sought to end the conflict. He ventured to the raven's homeland, offering his aid in slaying Nagga. In return, the raven granted him treasures to navigate the storm and a weapon to kill the sea dragon.

Chapter 712: The Kiss

In the end, the Grey Sea King, with the two treasures bestowed upon him by the Storm God, successfully vanquished the sea dragon, Nagga.

However, the Storm God did not obtain the coveted fire seed of Nagga, for the Grey Sea King and the corpse of Nagga were both drowned, sinking into the abyss of the deep sea.

By a twist of fate, after sinking with Nagga's corpse, the Grey Sea King inadvertently acquired Nagga's fire seed, granting him a power that could rival the gods.

Thus, the Grey Sea King became the supreme deity for the countless drowned Ironborn. He then emerged once more from the depths of the sea.

The Storm God, feeling deceived and realizing that the fire seed of Nagga now resided within a human, declared war on the Grey Sea King in rage, vowing to annihilate his people.

But this time, the Grey Sea King did not retreat, just as he had bravely sailed alone towards Nagga in his wooden ship years ago.

The Drowned God, revered by countless Ironborn, and the cunning and malevolent Storm God, embarked on a battle that spanned millennia. Legend has it that the Grey Sea King lived for a thousand years. During this time, he married a mermaid princess who bore him a hundred sons. These sons, with the bloodline of both the Grey Sea King and the mermaid princess, could freely live on land and in the sea.

In the end, the descendants of the Grey Sea King became the ruling families of the Iron Islands. Many Ironborn families, including the Greyjoy and Greyiron clans, claimed their lineage traced back to the Grey Sea King and his descendants from the Age of Heroes. Only the Goodbrother family differed, believing they descended from the loyal brother of the Grey Sea King.

However, these are tales recorded by later generations. The Age of Heroes is believed to be eight to ten thousand years ago. The oldest human records are those written after the Andals arrived in Westeros.

The First Men left no written records, only runes carved on rocks and artifacts. Thus, what many believe to be facts about the Dawn Age, the Age of Heroes, and the 'Long Night' are actually reconstructions by maesters thousands of years later.

Due to this, many historical records have gaps, relying solely on speculation. The maesters of the Citadel don't believe in kings who ruled for hundreds of years or knights who lived for a millennium, especially since the concept of knighthood didn't exist back then. They also find it hard to believe that anyone could live for several centuries.

However, when Viserys opened his eyes in the dungeons of the Red Keep, he saw some who looked lost, sitting still in a daze. Myles Toyne and Jon Connington both turned their attention to him.

"Your Grace, how do you feel?"

"What just happened?"

Jon Connington's voice held a hint of urgency. Viserys had been engulfed in lightning, a divine power not to be trifled with, so they dared not approach.

After a while, Viserys finally opened his eyes, but he sat still, lost in thought, which naturally worried them.

"Oh, don't worry."

"I'm fine."

Viserys said, shaking his head slightly after hearing Jon Connington's words.

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, Viserys seemed to sense something. He turned his head and saw a skirt hiding behind a black dragon bone. Rhaenys had sneaked in, curious about what Viserys was doing in the dungeons with dragon bones.

However, she hadn't expected to witness such a shocking scene. Her 'brother', Viserys, was bathed in golden flames that illuminated the entire dungeon. Soon after, the golden flames turned into scattered lightning. Rhaenys wanted to help or call for Maester Marwyn, but then Viserys opened his eyes, and everything settled.

Rhaenys hid behind a towering black dragon bone, not wanting Viserys to know she had deceived the guards to sneak in. But then something even more terrifying happened.

Viserys suddenly started speaking to thin air, as if someone was there with him. Rhaenys was chilled to the bone, even more afraid to come out. She wondered if Viserys had gone mad or if there was some invisible guest beside him.

But then, Viserys suddenly stopped speaking. The dungeon became eerily quiet. Rhaenys's heart raced, and before she knew it, Viserys had caught her.

After hearing the girl's tearful explanation, Viserys couldn't help but chuckle. Jon Connington was floating right beside Rhaenys, and she hadn't noticed him even when she turned her head.

Explaining this would be complicated. Viserys thought for a moment and then told Rhaenys he would explain everything when he had the time.

"Really?"

Upon hearing Viserys's words, the previously fearful girl's attention shifted. In her eyes, Viserys would never harm her. So, if he knew about the ghost or whatever it was, then she was safe.

"Of course."

Viserys nodded.

"You're so kind."

Suddenly, the brunette-haired girl pecked Viserys on the forehead, her face turning red. It seemed this impulsive act surprised not only Viserys but also herself. Without looking back, Rhaenys hurriedly ran off.

Viserys, still sitting cross-legged, watched her retreating figure, still in a daze. He was asking himself a question.

He could have dodged that kiss, right? With his Eyes of the Moment ability, even if the Night King tried to ambush him at that distance, he should have been able to react.

What just happened?

Chapter 713: Rain

Viserys found himself reminiscing about the recent close call.

The Grey King, also known as the Drowned God and the storm-summoning raven, the 'Storm God' in the Ironborn's tales, had been locked in a millennia-long battle. The last scene Viserys recalled was their final confrontation.

At that moment, the Grey King wielded a sword, a gift from the raven, capable of slaying gods. With it, he decapitated the raven.

However, in its dying moments, the raven retaliated, severely wounding the Grey King's spirit, almost causing his immediate demise.

In truth, the Grey King's physical form was that of a floating corpse, having drowned when he slew the sea dragon Nagga in his youth.

Realizing his time was limited, the Grey King left behind his driftwood crown, taking the god-slaying sword with him into the sea, disappearing forever.

To honor the drowned king, the ancestors of the Iron Islands began to revere the Grey King as the Drowned God.

However, back then, the ancestors had no written language, only cryptic runes. Over time, with stories passed down through generations, the Drowned God and the Grey King became two distinct entities.

In later Ironborn legends, the Grey King was invited to feast in the watery halls of the Drowned God, even taking a seat to his right.

During his reign, the Grey King urged the Ironborn to be self-sufficient, farming the barren lands. Yet, in later tales, he was portrayed as a raider.

The Ironborn believed the Drowned God created them, urging them to reave and rape, to carve out a new world with blood, fire, and song. Yet, the earliest Ironborn were not created by any god but were settlers from the Dorne peninsula.

With the Andals' continuous invasions, the bloodlines mixed, making the Ironborn and most of Westeros essentially kin.

The Ironborn also believed the Drowned God brought fire from the sea, but it was the Grey King who drowned countless Ironborn and brought the fire of Nagga.

Viserys had glimpsed significant memories of the raven, indirectly witnessing the Grey King's life.

The Grey King was the Drowned God.

This revelation was something Viserys had never considered. There was no historical evidence, but the story had been distorted over thousands of years.

The raven's decapitated head, though severed, still emitted an enraged cry, summoning storms.

The grievously wounded Grey King managed to suppress both the raven's head and body, ensuring they'd never reunite.

The raven's spirit was then cast into darkness, never breaking its seal.

Its last attempt at revival was a decade ago, summoning the greatest storm over the Narrow Sea, hoping to break free. But the greenseer, maintaining Westeros's balance, sent his sword, Dark Sister, to suppress the raven's resurgence.

The raven, drained of its power, fell back into slumber until Viserys awakened it with divine fire.

Viserys had accessed the raven's memories, but much was lost during the raven's final retaliation.

However, the raven's counterattack was fierce. Immersed in its memories, Viserys was unaware of the looming danger.

It sought to possess Viserys, just as Brynden Rivers had tried before. But Viserys's mental strength was formidable.

Despite its weakened state, the storm-summoning raven, revered as the Storm God by the Ironborn, was a genuine deity and not easily defeated.

Their intense spiritual battle was what Myles Toyne, Jon Connington, and Rhaenys had witnessed, with Viserys surrounded by lightning.

Eventually, Viserys, with the power of the Old Gods and the mysterious black mist, overcame the raven.

However, the raven chose not to yield entirely, dissipating most of its spirit, vanishing from this world.

Viserys absorbed some of the raven's residual spirit, which transformed into a black mist within him. His attributes surged, with the most significant gain being the ancient, white raven skull before him.

As Viserys touched the skull, distant thunder echoed.

"Is it raining?"

...

Rhaenys, who had just left the Red Keep's dungeons, still had a blush on her face. She couldn't understand her sudden impulse to kiss Viserys.

Embarrassed, she had fled. But as she stepped outside, the once-clear sky darkened.

Thunder rumbled.

Clouds gathered swiftly, and a downpour began, catching the brown-haired girl off guard.

"What's with this rain?"

"It's so strange."

"It just started out of nowhere?"

Rhaenys, unsure of what had transpired, hurriedly sought shelter from the rain.

Chapter 714: The Dornish Delegation

Just as with Rhaenys, there were many citizens of King's Landing who found the current situation quite peculiar.

The rain had come so suddenly. One moment the sky was clear, and the next, a torrential downpour began, catching countless unsuspecting pedestrians off guard, drenching them thoroughly.

Now, dark clouds loomed over the city, with lightning flashing and thunder roaring, painting a scene reminiscent of the end of the world.

"What's going on?"

At the highest point of King's Landing, atop Aegon's High Hill in the Red Keep.

The Dornish princess, who had become queen by virtue of her husband's ascension, held her daughter, Diana, in her arms. Standing on the balcony of Maegor's Holdfast, she looked out at the pouring rain, a hint of worry evident on her face.

For anyone could see that this rain was far from ordinary. It wasn't a result of typical weather patterns. It felt as if some unseen hand was manipulating the elements.

Someone who could control the weather? Was that even human?

Arianne, with her Dornish heritage, had slightly darker skin and deep-set eyes. Her waist was slender, and her figure remained voluptuous even after childbirth.

Holding her daughter, her mind wandered, pondering the potential implications of this downpour.

Some might blame her husband, as natural disasters often get attributed to a king or emperor's misdeeds, like angering the gods.

Such power seemed like something only the gods could possess.

On the other hand, Arianne was also worried about her father.

For Viserys had summoned her father, Prince Doran, to King's Landing to explain the rebellion in Sunspear and the actions of some Dornish lords. By her calculations, he should be arriving in the city soon.

If he were caught in such a storm at sea, it could be perilous.

Lost in these thoughts, Arianne sighed deeply.

"I hope everything will be alright," she murmured.

"What do you think, Diana?"

She looked down at her daughter, who was sound asleep in her arms. The little princess had been restless the previous night, and now, in the afternoon, she was exhausted.

Children, free from worries and stress, could sleep whenever they wished. Arianne envied that. Even the thunder outside couldn't wake the young princess. She gently kissed Diana's cheek and then walked back into the room.

However, it never crossed Arianne's mind that this rain might be Viserys's doing.

Thus, the heavy rain came and went quickly.

The dark clouds that had threatened apocalypse were now replaced by bright sunlight. It was still afternoon, but it felt like midnight had just passed.

The citizens of King's Landing were uneasy. The septons in the Great Sept of Baelor were terrified, constantly praying, unsure of what had transpired, fearing they had angered the gods.

Yet, soon after, the rain stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The thick clouds dispersed, revealing the sun once more, its brilliant rays shining down on the freshly washed streets of King's Landing.

Even the usual stench of the lower parts of the city seemed to have diminished. Viserys had once ordered the renovation of the city's sewage system to address the issue of air pollution in King's Landing.

However, such a renovation wasn't easy. King's Landing was vast, densely populated, and the project would take time.

...

"This artifact can control the weather?"

As Viserys emerged from the dungeons of the Red Keep, he saw the dissipating clouds and the returning sunlight. He then turned his attention to the raven's skull in his hand.

"To be precise, it can summon storms," Jon Connington replied excitedly. As a former commander of the Targaryen army, he understood the strategic advantage of such a powerful artifact.

However, Viserys was more contemplative. He studied the raven's skull, pondering its potential uses.

There was no doubt that this was a powerful artifact in this world, especially in naval battles. It could summon storms to destroy enemy fleets and dispel storms that threatened their own.

With this power, the Targaryen fleet could sail to any corner of the world.

Days later, the brief storm became the hottest topic in King's Landing. Everyone had their theories.

Some believed someone in the city was experimenting with dark magic, pointing fingers at a maester with a private laboratory. Rumors had spread about unidentified bodies being dissected in his lab, an act deemed sacrilegious by followers of the Seven.

Others blamed witches, ghosts, or believed the gods were displeased with Emperor Viserys because of the spread of heresy throughout Westeros.

However, no one considered it a mere weather phenomenon, as even the maesters in King's Landing couldn't explain it.

Archmaester Ambrose even sent a raven to Oldtown, seeking the counsel of his friend, the astrophysicist Maester 'Vinegar' Willin. He awaited a reply.

The citizens of King's Landing, being well-fed and clothed, had plenty of time for gossip.

However, every topic eventually loses its appeal, especially when there's no new information. Soon, another piece of news captured everyone's attention.

The long-anticipated Dornish delegation had finally arrived.

Among them was a very important figure, evident from the guards accompanying the delegation. He was Prince Doran Nymeros Martell, the emperor's father-in-law.

He was to appear before the Iron Throne to explain the Dornish rebellion. The ship bearing the Martell banner had just entered Blackwater Bay.

Quentyn Martell, the eldest son of the Martell family, rode on horseback, accompanied by a dozen Unsullied guards from the court.

Tyrion Lannister, the emperor's personal advisor, Lord Davos Seaworth, the harbor master and head of the imperial customs, were also present, awaiting Prince Doran's arrival.

Chapter 715: Prince Doran

Oberyn and Arianne were notably absent from the welcoming party.

Given Oberyn's current position as a prominent council member of the empire, he needed to avoid any appearance of favoritism with his brother. Hence, Oberyn was not present at the reception.

As for Arianne, her elevated status was due to Viserys. While she was Prince Doran's daughter, she was also the queen of the empire, the motherly figure of the realm.

It wasn't just that Prince Doran no longer had the privilege to have his daughter personally greet him; when he saw Arianne, he would need to bow from his wheelchair.

Many of King's Landing's citizens had gathered at the harbor, having been nearby and drawn by the sight of the Martell banner.

"Make way!"

"Clear the path!"

"Drop anchor!"

The ship bearing the sun-pierced spear of House Martell soon docked under the guidance of Blackwater Bay's harbor staff. A plank was laid out, connecting the ship to the dock.

Representing the royal family, Tyrion, and representing the harbor, Davos Seaworth, exchanged glances and quickly approached the ship.

Quentyn Martell, the heir to Dorne, had already dismounted his horse and stood by the ship, flanked by a dozen Unsullied soldiers.

Soon after, the sound of a wheelchair rolling could be heard from the ship's deck. A towering, imposing figure with a six-foot-long axe stood at the forefront. Although his hair had turned white, underestimating him due to age would be a grave mistake.

His cold gaze swept over the welcoming crowd, gripping his massive axe, yet he remained silent.

"What a formidable warrior!"

"Sir, is that Prince Doran?"

A squire behind Tyrion couldn't help but ask, only to receive a sharp glance from his master.

"As far as I know, Prince Doran has been confined to a wheelchair for many years due to gout and hasn't made a public appearance in a long time."

The man before them was clearly not Prince Doran. However, the people of King's Landing often referred to the Dornish as barbarians, with rumors even suggesting they consumed children. Thus, the confusion was understandable.

Soon, a Dornish soldier pushed a wheelchair onto the deck. Seated in it was a middle-aged man with graying hair, dressed in lavish robes bearing the sun-pierced spear emblem of House Martell.

"Father!"

Upon seeing Prince Doran, Quentyn quickly approached.

Prince Doran nodded slightly. The Dornish soldier behind him pushed his wheelchair down the plank and onto the dock.

"My son."

Prince Doran looked at his son, Quentyn, who had grown taller and seemed more mature since he last saw him.

"Prince Doran."

"Prince Doran."

Tyrion and Davos, who had been waiting, stepped forward.

"I am Tyrion Lannister, personal advisor to Emperor Viserys of the Valyrian Empire," Tyrion began, adjusting his attire. "And this is Lord Davos Seaworth, the head of imperial customs and the harbor master of King's Landing."

Prince Doran, after a brief pause, extended his hand to Tyrion, and then to Davos.

A renowned dwarf and a famous smuggler, both now held significant positions in King's Landing. Viserys was known for his unconventional appointments, making this era the most diverse in the history of the court.

Although the Martells had been allied with the Targaryens for a long time, this was the first time Prince Doran was meeting his son-in-law, Viserys, and under such circumstances.

After the brief ceremony, a special carriage brought from Dorne was unloaded from the ship. The imposing figure with the axe and several Dornish soldiers followed.

Prince Doran was wheeled into the carriage, and the curtains were drawn. The carriage began its journey towards the Red Keep, with Quentyn, the Unsullied, Tyrion, and Davos accompanying it.

"Traitor!"

"Dornish barbarian!"

As they moved, jeers and insults came from the crowd.

Chapter 716: Conflict

"Traitor!"

"Barbarian!"

From the sides of the Mud Gate, a tumultuous noise arose from the gathered crowd. Some even dared to shout insults directly at Prince Doran's carriage. The young Prince of Dorne, seeing his father insulted, immediately showed signs of anger.

"Silence!"

"You lowly scum!"

The Dornish soldiers accompanying their prince's carriage also tensed up, gripping their curved blades and shields tightly.

"You've always been traitors!"

"Dornishmen are nothing but treacherous wolves!"

"That's right!"

"They're just a bunch of uncivilized barbarians!"

Prince Quentyn's reprimands did not silence the crowd. Instead, they seemed to incite even more accusations and vulgarities. Due to past actions and historical reasons, the Dornish were not well-received in Westeros. Their culture, appearance, beliefs, and accents were vastly different from the mainstream Westerosi culture.

However, the Mud Gate, known to the common folk as the Rotten Gate, was a place where the lower classes of King's Landing congregated. The number of people watching the Dornish delegation was vast. Although Prince Quentyn was furious, he couldn't pinpoint who among the crowd was shouting.

Suddenly, a stone was thrown from the crowd, striking Prince Doran's carriage with a loud thud.

"Protect the Prince!"

"Guard His Highness!"

The situation escalated instantly. The Dornish soldiers, already on high alert, drew their blades and raised their shields. The towering man with the massive axe looked even more enraged.

"Find that person!"

On the other side, the Unsullied soldiers following Quentyn quickly formed a protective formation around Prince Doran's carriage.

"This is bad—"

Tyrion and Ser Davos exchanged worried glances, sensing the gravity of the situation. They quickly dismounted.

"Calm down!"

"Everyone, stay calm!"

Tyrion and Davos tried to mediate, but the enraged Prince Quentyn was beyond reasoning.

"I'll kill you all!"

Quentyn Martell drew his sword, pointing it at the agitated crowd, clearly ready to charge.

However, a calm and authoritative voice emanated from the carriage.

"Areo!"

"Stop him!"

The insulted Prince Doran remained composed. He hadn't let anger cloud his judgment and calmly ordered his chief guard, the axe-wielding Areo Hotah, to prevent Quentyn from causing a scene.

Areo, who had been searching the crowd for the stone-thrower, immediately obeyed Prince Doran's command. With one hand, he effortlessly lifted Prince Quentyn off his horse, as if he were lifting a small chicken.

"What are you doing?"

"Let me go!"

"I'll kill them!"

But Quentyn was silenced by Areo's deep voice.

"Prince, it's the command of the Prince!"

Quentyn immediately deflated. From a young age, the person he feared the most was his father. Just one look from Prince Doran was enough to make Quentyn back down.

The commotion by the Mud Gate was quickly quelled by the Dornish soldiers and the Unsullied. The local city guard also arrived to maintain order, dispersing the unruly crowd with force.

The Dornish delegation, under protection, left the Mud Gate. To avoid further incidents, they chose the main road leading to the Red Keep instead of the narrow Hook Alley.

Inside the throne room atop Aegon's High Hill, many local nobles and imperial officials had gathered, awaiting Prince Doran's arrival.

The formal audience in the throne room was brief. Emperor Viserys had summoned Prince Doran to King's Landing primarily to assert dominance and force Dorne into submission, not to hear what he had to say.

His words were not important; his presence or absence was what mattered most.

If Prince Doran had refused the emperor's summons, Viserys might have had to personally lead an army to Sunspear to meet his father-in-law. Such a confrontation could have been disastrous.

"Dorne has many who wish for war."

"But I've seen war."

In the gardens of the Red Keep, Princess Arianne and her handmaid Sansa played with Arianne's daughter under the shade of the trees. Emperor Viserys and Prince Doran sat under a canopy, conversing.

"I've seen mountains of corpses on the battlefield."

"I've seen orphans starve in the cities."

Prince Doran remained seated in his wheelchair. His Dornish guards couldn't enter the Red Keep, so only Areo Hotah, his chief guard, was allowed to push his wheelchair. Areo's massive axe had been temporarily confiscated upon entering the throne room.

"Your Grace."

The burly, white-haired giant, Areo, showed respect to Emperor Viserys. Even after the insults they faced upon arriving in King's Landing, Areo's manners were impeccable.

He also looked towards Arianne, his gaze softening. He had been with Prince Doran since he was sixteen, accompanying Princess Mellario to Dorne for her marriage to Prince Doran. He had watched all of Doran's children grow up, especially Arianne, the eldest daughter. Areo felt a fatherly affection for Princess Arianne.

Seeing her now, happily married to the most powerful man in the world, Areo felt at peace.

Chapter 717: The Red Dragon

"All people under the heavens are the same. The majority of the Dornish love peace, with only a few who don't understand the value of restraint."

"But they are not the common folk of Dorne. They are the Fowler family of Skyreach, the Uller family of Hellholt, and the Cogar family of Sandstone."

"They don't understand the suffering of the people."

"I'm grateful that Your Grace helped me eliminate these scoundrels."

Prince Doran, shaded by a parasol from the glaring sun, sat in his wheelchair, watching his daughter play with his granddaughter on the grass. He then turned and spoke.

"I did not wish to drag my people into such a hellish conflict."

"Had I wanted to, I would not have held back my anger when I heard of Elia and her children's deaths."

"However, my resolve to avenge her has never wavered. I am committed to the downfall of Tywin Lannister and the Baratheon house."

Prince Doran spoke the truth. He did not want Dorne to be engulfed in a war they were destined to lose. Otherwise, he wouldn't have insisted on negotiating with Jon Arryn, the envoy from the Iron Throne.

However, his efforts to overthrow the Baratheon dynasty continued. For instance, he invested in the young Viserys and even married his eldest daughter to him.

Prince Doran's words were a reminder to Viserys not to forget the past favors. The silver-haired youth under the parasol remained silent for a moment, then nodded, but changed the subject.

"I heard you encountered some trouble at the King's Landing port?"

Recalling the recent incident, Prince Doran's eyes lowered, but he showed no anger, merely nodding in acknowledgment.

"They attacked the Prince!"

"Your Grace!"

The Norvosi standing behind Prince Doran spoke with indignation.

They had traveled all the way from Sunspear to Dorne. Although the reason for their visit was somewhat embarrassing, Areo Hotah knew that the Prince had been eager to visit King's Landing to see his daughter and granddaughter.

Areo Hotah spoke up, and the white-robed female knight behind Viserys glanced at him. She had seen such bearded monks in Volantis. They were indeed skilled with their great axes.

"I will have the matter thoroughly investigated," Viserys replied calmly.

This incident was unexpected. Viserys, after all, was not omniscient. He hadn't anticipated such an event. However, it might not have been an accident but a deliberate provocation to agitate Prince Doran.

Imagine if Prince Doran had just arrived in King's Landing and was immediately attacked. Whether it was Prince Doran's order or Prince Quentyn committing a public murder, the situation could have escalated uncontrollably.

But without a thorough investigation, it's hard to say if someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes. However, Prince Doran's ability to remain calm in such a situation and prevent his son from acting rashly was truly admirable. Experience indeed brings wisdom.

"Is Aegon still a monk?"

Prince Doran had heard about the unrest in King's Landing and Aegon's alliance with the religious fanatics. Viserys had not been lenient; he had ruthlessly crushed the zealots, resulting in rivers of blood. Only then did peace return to King's Landing.

He had wanted to inquire about Aegon's identity directly. In his correspondence with his brother Oberyn, it had been mentioned that Aegon bore some resemblance to Rhaegar and Elia.

However, appearances can be subjective. Without modern verification techniques, it's hard to convince people based on mere words.

Yet, Viserys had accepted this nephew. Later, due to Aegon's firm belief in the Seven and his passion for religious affairs, Viserys even arranged for the High Septon to personally mentor him in the truths of the Faith of the Seven.

Now, Aegon had been a monk for many years, and his voice had gradually faded from the public.

Viserys nodded slightly. At that moment, a deep roar echoed from the sky above.

Prince Doran and his guard captain quickly looked up to see a magnificent red dragon descending from the heavens.

"Is this a dragon?"

The slender, graying man's usual calm demeanor vanished. He tried to stand from his wheelchair but was quickly supported by Areo Hotah. Prince Doran's eyes were filled with awe and admiration.

This red dragon, with its elegant yet fierce appearance, was a true behemoth, its length surpassing ten meters, making it a giant among many creatures, including humans.

The red dragon circled the sky, letting out a roar before landing beside Arianne, Sansa, and the playful silver-haired little girl on the lawn.

Arianne seemed calm, but Sansa was visibly nervous, clutching her dress. However, she wasn't overly frightened, having seen dragons before.

The young silver-haired girl, however, fearlessly ran over and hugged the red dragon's lowered head.

"This is too dangerous, Your Grace," Areo Hotah, supporting Prince Doran, said with evident concern on his face. He had always regarded Arianne as his own, and seeing her, Sansa, and the little princess beside a dragon was nerve-wracking.

But Prince Doran, standing with the help of Areo Hotah, was much calmer, even with his daughter and granddaughter so close to the creature.

"I've heard that Your Grace's mount, the black dragon Balerion, is over fifty meters long."

"Is this Rhaegal?"

Prince Doran, having spent most of his time in the Water Gardens, was seeing a dragon for the first time. The guards and citizens of King's Landing had grown accustomed to the sight of dragons soaring overhead, roaring as they went.

These dragons lived not far from King's Landing in the vast Kingswood. The environment there was tailored for the dragons, allowing them to hunt freely. If they fancied seafood, they could fly to the sea and catch it themselves. Thus, these dragons never disturbed human life.

"No, Father," Arianne replied. "She is not Rhaegal. She is Vhagar, Diana's chosen companion."

Chapter 718: The High Priest

Dragons choose their dragon riders, but the riders, in essence, are also choosing their dragons.

On the second naming day of Viserys's daughter, Diana, he took her to the Kingswood to personally select a young dragon that would be more compatible with her.

The young dragons, having grown over the years, now exceed ten meters in size. Especially notable among them is the eldest, Vhagar. Although she is a female dragon, her size and ferocity still surpass her siblings.

When Viserys brought Diana to choose a dragon, these young dragons were also sizing her up.

Diana has half Dornish blood, but due to the now pure lineage of Viserys, the young princess's dragon-riding bloodline is also exceptional.

She caught the attention of the crystal dragon, Syrax, known as the 'Little Lady', and also the eldest dragon, Vhagar.

The crystal dragon has a beautiful figure and curves, a light green body, sharp bones on its horns and neck, and wings that shine like crystal, reflecting a rainbow of colors.

The grown Syrax is even more elegant and eye-catching than when she was younger, shimmering like crystal in the sunlight.

Every time she flies over King's Landing, she draws cheers and gasps from the people below. She enjoys the attention, so she flies over the capital more often than her siblings.

The 'Little Lady' seemed to take a liking to the silver-haired girl. She, quite unusually, lowered her pride and took to the skies, trying to catch Diana's attention. However, Diana's gaze was entirely captured by Vhagar, the elder dragon.

The massive red dragon let out a deep roar that made the entire Kingswood shiver. Even though she's a female dragon, her body is incredibly robust, with sharp, menacing claws digging into the ground and eyes that naturally exude a dominant aura.

Her roar made her siblings step back, including the proud, shimmering golden dragon, Teraxes.

Not far away, Rhaegal and Viserion, basking in the sun, couldn't help but look over. As for Balerion, he was sound asleep. His size is so vast that he seems like a mountain compared to these younger dragons.

Dragons are also social creatures. For this group, Balerion is the true Dragon King and leader. He protects the entire brood from external threats with his sheer might.

Princess Diana Targaryen eventually chose Vhagar, much like the tradition of choosing a weapon on one's naming day. She chose Viserys's sword, Dusk.

This choice was entirely Diana's own. She wasn't swayed by the shiny and more appealing crystal dragon, Syrax, but chose the dragon that caught her attention the most, Vhagar.

Diana's choice seemed to have hurt Syrax's pride. For a while, she was sulky. However, Viserys didn't console her, knowing that with Syrax's optimistic nature, she'd bounce back soon.

And sure enough, in a few days, the 'Little Lady' was back to her lively self.

"Vhagar is my gift to Diana," Viserys said, watching his daughter embrace her dragon. "They will grow together."

Diana is still young, but the dragon is only a year older than her. While the 'Red Queen' grows rapidly in size, human children grow just as quickly in intellect.

They may not have the massive bodies of dragons, but they have sharper minds at the same age.

Viserys met with Prince Doran in King's Landing. Meanwhile, the Imperial fleet, heading to Volantis, stopped here for a few days and was received by the Volantene Triarchs.

Volantis is governed by two parties, the Elephants and the Tigers. Currently, there are three Triarchs, two from the Elephant party and one from the Tiger party. Ever since the Century of Blood, the people's resentment towards the Tigers peaked. So, the political landscape of Volantis has been dominated by the Elephants.

The arrival of the Imperial fleet, representing the mighty empire with eight dragons and an army of over a hundred thousand, was bound to shake up Volantis's already unstable political scene.

Now, Asha Greyjoy, representing the empire, was visiting the Red Temple in Volantis, invited by the High Priest Benerro.

Benerro, the theoretical head of the R'hllor faith, has a significant influence. Melisandre, who met Viserys years ago and now serves as the vice-chancellor of the theological academy in King's Landing, is like a mere disciple in front of Benerro.

"Welcome, envoy of the Sun's Son," Benerro, a tall, thin man with sharp features and milk-white skin covered in flame tattoos, greeted Asha. His voice was so high-pitched that it startled her on their first meeting.

She soon learned that the followers of R'hllor believed Viserys to be the Son of R'hllor, the hero destined to save the world. Hence, they often referred to him as the Sun's Son or God's Son, rather than the King of the Seven Kingdoms or the Emperor of the Valyrian Empire.

Chapter 719: Darkness and Destruction

The Emperor will face challenges in the future.

Eyes in the darkness have set their sights on him. The servants of the Long Night intend to overthrow him, and the will of destruction is soon to arrive.

Benerro, draped in a red robe, stared intently at Asha Greyjoy. It seemed as if flames danced in the depths of his eyes.

His gaze made Asha slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if she was laid bare before him.

"What darkness?"

"What destruction?"

"What are you talking about? Why not be clearer?"

Asha couldn't understand what this High Priest, who held immense power in Volantis, was trying to convey. Yet, she dared not show her frustration. Benerro's influence among the followers of the Lord of Light was vast. Even the rulers of Volantis feared him, considering him an unseen overlord of the city.

Volantis, the stronghold of the Red Faith, was home to countless slaves who believed in the Lord of Light. Four out of every five people in Volantis were slaves.

The city was divided by the Rhoyne River: the eastern part was inhabited by ancient-blooded nobles, while the west was home to mercenaries, foreigners, slaves, and commoners. Missandei once lived in the lower parts of Volantis as a lowly citizen.

The two parts of the city were connected by a long bridge. Those living to the east of the bridge, the wealthy, feared a slave uprising. Yet, every night, thousands would gather to hear Benerro's sermons.

Even the city's rulers couldn't stop them. Many in the Tiger Cloaks were followers of the Lord of Light, and the rulers couldn't command them to attack the red priests.

Thus, the High Priest's status in Volantis was unparalleled. No one dared to offend him. He was almost like a fourth ruler of the city.

Asha had met the three rulers of Volantis a few days ago, but only Benerro gave her chills.

It wasn't just his cryptic words, but also his piercing gaze that seemed to see through everything. It made Asha feel exposed, and she wanted to turn and flee.

But given his immense influence in the city, she listened intently.

"I have seen the truth in the flames."

Yet, Benerro didn't directly answer Asha's questions. They continued their conversation as they walked through the grand Red Temple.

The temple was magnificent, with its pillars, stairs, arches, domes, and towers all appearing as if carved from a single rock.

From a distance, it resembled the standing Aegon's High Hill. The walls of the temple were a blend of red, yellow, gold, and orange, reminiscent of clouds at dusk.

"The flames do not lie."

"It's different from worshiping false gods in a temple of lies."

They walked along a long corridor, flanked by the Fiery Hand, clad in ornate armor, orange cloaks, and wielding flaming spears. They were the temple's guardians.

Benerro's words seemed to hint at something, as followers of the Lord of Light often criticized the Faith of the Seven, accusing them of worshiping non-existent deities in a temple of deceit.

Asha, however, wasn't a devout follower of the Seven or even the Drowned God. She only prayed when necessary.

"Darkness and destruction."

Benerro paused, and Asha stopped with him.

He then pointed to the end of the corridor, where two Valyrian runes were faintly inscribed on a towering red wall. Beneath the wall was an old cushion.

Asha felt a sudden dizziness as she looked at the runes, as if she was under a spell. But she shook it off, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"What is this?"

She looked at Benerro, seeking answers.

Although she recognized the runes as Valyrian, she couldn't read them. Was it the runes that caused her dizziness?

"They mean darkness and destruction."

Benerro looked at Asha with surprise, as most people couldn't recover so quickly. He then explained.

"This temple appeared alongside the city of Volantis. Initially, this place was a square, and then the temple just emerged."

"No one knows who left these runes."

Benerro wasn't joking. Volantis, the oldest of the Free Cities and the first Valyrian colony, started as a military outpost. There was no mention of the Red Temple in early records. It was as if the grand structure, three times the size of the Great Sept of Baelor, appeared overnight.

"Darkness and destruction."

"The truth lies in two different places."

Benerro sighed deeply.

"When matters here conclude, my emissary, Macoro, will go to King's Landing to reveal the truth to His Majesty, not the woman from Essos."

"As for you,"

Benerro paused, his fiery eyes scanning Asha, making her shiver.

"You bear the mark of a malevolent deity. Someone has set their sights on you."

Chapter 720: The Deep Diver

As Beniro's voice faded, another corner of Valantis stirred.

Located to the west of the Rhoyne River, this area was home to mercenaries, foreigners, slaves, and commoners. The roads here were in disrepair, and the houses showed signs of age. The streets bustled with people of all kinds.

In stark contrast to the upper city, as if they weren't even part of the same city, stood an unremarkable, dilapidated two-story building.

The building was painted a deep black, with patches of wear revealing its inner structure. Its doors remained shut year-round, and neighbors rarely saw its owner venture out. Even the windows were sealed tight, allowing no light to penetrate.

Rumors suggested that the owner was an exiled noble from across the Narrow Sea who hadn't returned after a voyage many years ago, perhaps having met his demise.

Yet some believed these tales. They were usually drunken men who couldn't find a place to sleep or thieves hoping to find treasures within the noble's residence.

But those who entered the eerie building never came out. Over time, people realized this and began to whisper that the place was haunted, avoiding it altogether.

However, the ones who perished were deemed insignificant, drawing little attention from the authorities. Over time, the area became a no-go zone for outsiders.

But now, within this blackened house deemed off-limits, a figure swayed.

"He's back."

"He's come for me."

The figure's voice trembled as if speaking to himself, or perhaps to another unseen presence within his mind. The raspy tone, reminiscent of scraping blades, sent chills down one's spine.

"No, he didn't come for me. It's someone else."

"Asha Greyjoy, a woman of the Greyjoy clan. She's his subordinate."

The murmuring voice recognized the Greyjoy name. The foggy recesses of his mind still held onto these names, but he had no recollection of Asha.

It wasn't due to a failing memory. When he left Westeros, Asha was but a child, and she wasn't the heir to the Greyjoy clan. There were others like Rodrik and Maron. He only heard of her after the Iron Fleet's visit.

After a long silence, the figure in the room seemed to regain some clarity, his thoughts becoming more coherent. He spoke again, this time with an eerie calmness.

"She didn't die."

Ever since his escape, he had been hiding in Valantis, constantly fearing death's approach. He was terrified of a particular individual, or more precisely, the familiar aura that person exuded.

That scent was all too familiar, becoming the source of countless nightmares.

Monstrous beings with fins, the agonizing screams of comrades, torn bodies, and spilled blood haunted his dreams.

Now, even though he hid in Valantis, he rarely ventured out. When he did, it was under the cover of night, wrapped from head to toe, fearing being seen in his current state and, more importantly, seeing himself.

Hence, the house remained sealed, devoid of any light or mirrors.

"She didn't die."

"I was so well-prepared."

His voice now deep and raspy, he touched the scaly patches on his face. His once nimble fingers had fused, forming webbed appendages.

A fin, similar to the creatures he once encountered, protruded from his back. He could breathe underwater and swim vast distances in a day.

Standing still, water pooled at his feet. Over the years, he had unknowingly transformed into the very creature he once feared. Yet, he couldn't come to terms with this reality.

Suddenly, lightning flashed outside, followed by the rumble of thunder. The lightning illuminated his grotesque face, no longer human. A downpour began.

He had heard of the Imperial Fleet's visit and felt a familiar dread. That sensation seemed to be closing in.

He feared Viserys would find him, living in constant anxiety.

So, he decided to strike first. Posing as a mysterious individual, he hired mercenaries to assassinate Asha Greyjoy, hoping to halt the Iron Throne's fleet at Tyrosh and prevent them from advancing eastward.

However, the assassination attempt failed. Asha Greyjoy was rescued, narrowly escaping death. He witnessed it all from a distance, feeling as if fate was mocking him. Terrified, he fled back to Valantis.

As for the subsequent events, he was clueless.

The prisoners in the Tyrosh prison were poisoned. The bribed jailer claimed a Valyrian with a flame tattoo on his face provided the poison. This had nothing to do with him. Someone else was trying to muddy the waters of the Free Cities, framing him in the process.

But he didn't care about being framed. He wasn't even human anymore. Why would he care about such matters?

Yet, Asha's arrival reminded him of painful memories. Bits and pieces began to resurface.

He had once killed a maester and assumed his identity to get close to Viserys.

As an inside man for the Iron Throne, he provided valuable information about the Targaryen family. However, his cover was blown a few years later.

Out of past loyalty, Viserys granted him a merciful death by poison. Accepting his fate, he drank the poison, bleeding from every orifice until death took him.

But when he opened his eyes again, he wasn't in heaven or the seven hells but in a pitch-black tomb.

Something within him, a curse or a virus, wouldn't let him die. The poison seemed to have awakened this entity, granting him a second life.

He dug himself out of his grave and fled, making it appear as if someone else had exhumed him.

And then, he disappeared.

Chapter 721: Gillian Lannister

Gillian Lannister, the youngest brother of Tywin Lannister.

He once sailed the Laughing Lion from Lannisport to Valantis, intending to explore the ruins of Valyria and retrieve the ancestral Valyrian steel sword, Lightwhistle. He never returned, and for over a decade, he was presumed dead.

Most believed him to be gone, but in reality, Gillian had survived, outliving all of Tywin's brothers.

After Tywin's defeat, he was beheaded in King's Landing. Kevan was killed over a decade ago while pursuing the second prince of the Targaryen family. Tygett died even earlier, succumbing to smallpox in the 285th year of Aegon's reign.

But Gillian continued to fight for his life. He didn't perish in the Valyrian ruins but narrowly escaped from a monstrous creature.

Though he managed to flee, he seemed to be cursed by the mysterious soil of the area. Only after drinking poisoned wine did he die, but the curse's power resurrected him, transforming him into a half-man, half-fish creature.

He might have found common ground with Benjin Stark had they met.

However, compared to Benjin, trapped in the icy wilderness, Gillian's fate wasn't much better.

Benjin lost his life, his soul residing in a lifeless body, while Gillian was resurrected. His body still had warmth, still needed sustenance, and would bleed when injured. Yet, he had become a complete monster.

Even Gillian struggled to accept his transformation, becoming despondent and evasive.

"I can't run anymore."

A long silence filled the dark room before Gillian's voice echoed again, now completely calm.

Ever since he escaped his grave, he felt uneasy, sensing someone watching him from the shadows, getting closer. That's why he hid.

Gillian believed that the person seeking him was Viserys, as he recognized a familiar scent on him.

Although Gillian rarely ventured out, he remained informed about Westeros's political landscape.

He knew that the silver-haired youth had used Andalos and Pentos as stepping stones, riding dragons to conquer the Seven Kingdoms and claim the Iron Throne.

The Lannister family was decimated, and Casterly Rock was now occupied by the 'Blackheart' Toyne family from the Stormlands, with the motto 'Fly High and Far'. His elder brother, Tywin, was beheaded in King's Landing.

If Gillian had known this in the past, he would've been enraged, vowing revenge for his family. But now, such news couldn't even ignite his anger.

No one could understand his feelings, but he seemed entirely consumed by fear. This looming danger nearly broke him, making him suspect everyone around him.

Thus, anyone who stumbled upon him vanished without a trace, their bodies never found, for they became his food.

Now, Gillian believed that the Iron Throne sent a fleet to search for him.

However, Viserys had no idea he was still alive. When Gillian's grave was disturbed, Viserys assumed the Lannisters had stolen his body for burial.

But Gillian didn't know this. His fragile and sensitive psyche was triggered, making him believe he had to strike first.

"I must kill her myself!"

Finally, Gillian Lannister made up his mind.

Asha returned to her residence in Valantis.

However, recalling her encounter with the High Priest of the Red God and his cryptic words, she felt uneasy.

Especially the words of Benerro, who claimed to sense the aura of a dark god on her, suggesting someone was targeting her and was about to act.

This felt like a threat, especially considering her recent assassination attempt in Tyrosh, where the culprit remained at large.

Asha sat on her bed, deep in thought, then looked out the window.

Outside was the nighttime view of Valantis, illuminated by lights, bustling with people, ancient buildings, statues, fountains, and flowers.

Every corner of Valantis was steeped in history. Although it no longer held its past glory and seemed a bit desolate, it still had more depth than the newly built city of King's Landing.

The empire's fleet docked at Valantis for supplies, the last trade city before Naath. They needed to stock up for the journey ahead.

"What are the people of Naath and the Summer Isles like?"

The short-haired woman pondered these thoughts, placing her dagger under her pillow, then lay down to sleep.

In a way, she and Gillian were in similar predicaments, both plagued by paranoia.

Asha's dreams were haunted by the wights from the night the Iron Islands fell. She feared that closing her eyes would lead to her throat being slit.

Soon, she drifted into a deep sleep. As time passed, the lights outside dimmed until most of the city was shrouded in darkness.

Late into the night, only the Tiger Cloak soldiers patrolled Valantis.

At that moment, a slave soldier with tiger stripes on his cheek spotted a shadowy figure darting around a corner.

"Who's there?"

Since the empire's fleet arrived, a curfew was imposed after bat hour until dawn to prevent any incidents.

It was past curfew, and no one should be outside.

The soldier, with a furrowed brow, exchanged glances with his companion, tightened his grip on his spear, and gave chase.

Soon after, a chilling scream echoed through the alley.

Asha, deep in sleep, was jolted awake by the scream.

Chapter 722: Monster Attack

A chilling scream pierced the night in Volantis, echoing far and wide. Asha was jolted awake from her dreams, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger hidden beneath her pillow.

"What was that?"

The raven-haired woman, unsure of what had transpired, sat up in the darkness without lighting the candle by the window, gripping her dagger tightly.

Outside, chaos reigned. It seemed something unexpected had occurred, followed by the shouts of guards and the hurried footsteps of many.

"Halt!"

"Stop him!"

"Catch him!"

Asha's temporary residence in Volantis was the renowned Merchant's House, the largest and finest inn in the city.

Located east of the Long Bridge in the upper city, overlooking the Fishmonger's Square, it was a massive four-story structure. It towered over the surrounding warehouses, taverns, and brothels.

Its hall was grander than most in Westeros, with a courtyard paved with stone and adorned with grapevines. The surrounding pavilions and alcoves made it resemble a labyrinth.

But at that moment, a shadowy figure stained with blood suddenly appeared outside Asha Greyjoy's window. His eyes, red as fresh blood, were wide open, and he seemed to be searching for something inside the room.

Upon seeing the room's occupant, he let out a deafening scream, shattering the window and lunging inside.

"What is that?!"

Asha, startled awake, barely had time to react before calamity struck. She saw a silhouette clambering through the window. In the dim light, she caught a glimpse of its fish-scaled head, crimson eyes, blood-streaked mouth, and sharp teeth, as if it had just devoured someone.

"Damn it!"

As the creature lunged at her, Asha quickly rolled away, narrowly avoiding its attack.

This fish-scaled monster moved with incredible speed and strength. It effortlessly shattered the window and, upon entering, smashed a table to pieces.

But Asha Greyjoy was no ordinary woman. She was a seasoned pirate who had led the Ironborn in guerilla warfare against the Army of the Dead. After escaping to Westeros, she had established a stronghold in the Western Mountains, repeatedly repelling the noble houses' attempts to oust her.

"What kind of creature is this?"

Asha, both terrified and furious, had never seen such a creature. It was beyond human, a true monster.

She recalled the warning Benerro had given her earlier that day.

"You carry the scent of a malevolent god. Someone has set their sights on you."

"Is this the creature that's after me?"

Asha's heart raced as the creature lunged at her again. Without hesitation, she turned and fled, hoping the door would slow it down. But the monster easily broke through.

"Damn it!"

Gritting her teeth, Asha readied her dagger. The creature was faster, and if she tried to run, she'd surely be caught.

Why was this creature after her? What had she done to provoke it? Had she inadvertently killed one of its kind while fishing at sea?

"What's happening?"

"What's going on?"

The commotion had awakened the other guests of the Merchant's House. But the creature ignored them, its focus solely on Asha. It roared and charged at her again.

This time, Asha was cornered at the end of a corridor. She dodged its attack and tried to counter, but the creature's speed caught her off guard. It slammed into her, sending her crashing through a door into another room.

However, as she was thrown, Asha managed to stab the creature in the thigh with her dagger.

The creature roared in pain, its blood-red eyes filled with rage. It seemed to have lost all reason, reminding Asha of the Deep Ones she had once heard of—mindless, bloodthirsty monsters.

Unbeknownst to the creature, if the envoy of the Iron Throne were to die here, Viserys's attention would undoubtedly turn to this place, making Gillian's escape all the more difficult.

As Asha struggled to her feet, the creature lunged at her again. But this time, a massive axe swung down, blocking its path.

"Hold!"

Asha's uncle, Victarion, who had accompanied her to Volantis, stepped forward to confront the beast.

"What in the Seven Hells is this?"

Victarion's face was grave as he gripped his axe, eyeing the creature warily.

"Damn humans..."

The creature, Gillian, growled in a raspy voice.

He believed Asha was sent by Viserys to find him, so he wanted to kill her and escape. But every time he tried, someone interfered.

Hearing the creature speak, both Victarion and Asha, who was still on the floor, were taken aback. They had assumed it was some unknown monster that had somehow entered the city. But now, everything had changed.

Gillian lunged at Victarion, intending to tear him apart just as he had done with the slave soldiers earlier. Then he would kill the woman sent by Viserys.

But as he charged, Victarion's axe swung down once more, blocking his path.

Chapter 723: Fleeing

A roar echoed.

Gillian unleashed a ferocious cry. His movements were swift and powerful. However, the captain of the Ironborn ship was no pushover either. Gripping his massive axe, he clashed with Gillian.

Over the years, Gillian had been corrupted by a malevolent force that seeped deep into his bones, causing significant transformations in his physique.

Yet, due to his immense willpower, he hadn't fully succumbed to becoming a monstrous entity, retaining a sliver of his sanity.

This restraint meant he couldn't harness the full might of the creature he was becoming.

Had it been one of the creatures Gillian encountered in the Valyrian ruins, it might have effortlessly slaughtered everyone present. Even the bravest of human warriors would stand no chance against such a beast.

"Uncle!"

"Watch out!"

At that moment, Asha struggled to her feet.

She had been heavily impacted by the creature, breaking a door panel in the process. It felt as if her bones were about to shatter.

But now, facing this monstrosity, Victarion, determined to protect his niece, spotted an opening and seized the opportunity.

Gillian, not adept at combat, acted purely on instinct.

"Die!"

"Beast!"

Victarion, with his extensive combat experience and formidable physique, swung his axe at Gillian's chest, intending to cleave him in two.

However, he underestimated Gillian's resilience. The creature's scaly hide was as tough as armor. The axe struck, causing Gillian to let out a piercing scream. Blood gushed, revealing torn flesh and exposed bones.

It was a near-fatal blow, but instead of retreating, Gillian, enraged, lunged forward.

Victarion, caught off guard, was bitten on the arm. The creature nearly severed it but managed to tear a chunk of flesh, causing blood to pour profusely.

Victarion's face contorted in pain, dropping his axe in the corridor.

As Gillian prepared to deliver a fatal bite to Victarion's throat, he was intercepted by others, saving Victarion.

"What is this creature?"

"Quick! Stop him!"

The sudden outbreak of combat drew more spectators. Given the number of guests at the Merchant's House and the patrolling Tiger Cloak soldiers nearby, they weren't going to let the deaths of their comrades go unavenged.

"Kill it!"

"Everyone, attack!"

A brown-haired mercenary stepped forward, rallying the troops. With their combined strength, they surrounded Gillian, ready to strike.

Despite his rage and the agonizing pain from his wound, Gillian retained a shred of sanity.

Seeing the increasing number of humans surrounding him and realizing that his mission to kill the woman appointed by Viserys was now impossible, he decided to flee.

With a roar, he charged towards the weakest point in the encirclement, biting a mercenary's throat.

Gillian, agile as the creature he once witnessed, shattered a window and leapt out, leaving a trail of blood behind. In moments, he vanished into the darkness.

The skirmish was brief, lasting mere minutes, but it was intense. Including the soldiers outside, Gillian had killed five people.

It was only Victarion's critical blow that halted further carnage.

Regrettably, the creature, which should have been fatally wounded, managed to escape.

On the other hand, Victarion, having lost a significant amount of blood, was on the brink of passing out.

"Help! Someone, help him!"

Fortunately, being in the largest inn in Volantis, a skilled healer was available. An elderly man with profound knowledge of medicine was summoned. He applied medicinal powders and herbs to Victarion's wound, stemming the bleeding and bandaging it.

The next morning, after Victarion was out of danger, Asha visited the High Priest Benerro of the Red Faith.

She couldn't blame the ruler of Volantis this time. This wasn't an assassination attempt but an encounter with a genuine monster.

Benerro, after listening to Asha's description, said, "A maester from Westeros named Shyren Pyke wrote about such creatures in his book 'Strange Stones.' He believed in the existence of aquatic humanoid creatures, describing them as 'peculiar, deformed hybrids born from the union of sea creatures and human women.'"

After the creature's escape, pursuers followed the blood trail, which ended at the Rhoyne River. Given its scaly appearance and dorsal fin, it was believed that the creature might be aquatic.

The chapter concluded with Benerro's surprising knowledge of various books.

Chapter 724: The Mystery of the Sea Creature

Maester Shyren, originally known as Shyren Pyke, was a bastard from the Iron Islands, having lived about a century ago.

He was deeply engrossed in the study of marine life, standing out as one of the most specialized scholars in the field. He was dedicated to researching and finding evidence of ancient sea creatures' existence.

The creature described by Asha appeared in his manuscript "Strange Stones" and was named by Maester Shyren as the 'Deep Diver.'

Maester Shyren had discovered the remains of such a creature and believed them to be the prototypes of mermaid myths. Their ancestors, those marine beings, were believed to be the original subjects of the Drowned God's worship.

He also suggested that the ancient structures on Pyke, the foundation of the towering lighthouse, and the Seastone Chair were all constructed from a similar black stone. The origins of these structures remained a mystery, leading him to deduce that they were the creations of the Deep Divers.

However, his hypothesis was later refuted by another scholar from the Citadel. Maester Corlyon believed that while the Seastone Chair and the foundation of the towering lighthouse were both made of black stone, they were not of the same kind.

The Seastone Chair was an oily black stone with a greasy surface that seemed to absorb all light, whereas the foundation of the towering lighthouse was a dry black stone, distinctly different in texture and appearance from the Seastone Chair.

Moreover, the Seastone Chair was a naturally formed oddity. No one knew its creator, and legend had it that the stone had already been resting on the shores of Old Wyk long before the First Men set foot on the Iron Islands. Maester Corlyon speculated that it was brought and left behind by visitors from beyond the Sunset Sea.

On the other hand, the ancient structures on Pyke clearly bore signs of human craftsmanship and were similar to the black stone structures left by the Valyrian Dragonlords on Dragonstone and in various Free Cities.

It was suspected that long ago, dragon-riding visitors had come to Oldtown. However, current historical and archaeological evidence couldn't confirm the presence of Valyrians in such a distant place.

These findings provided crucial evidence pushing back the timeline of dragons' existence. The ancient structural remnants on Pyke could be traced back to before the First Men arrived in Westeros, supporting the theory of Valyrian origins.

Some maesters believed that the Valyrians originally hailed from the region now known as Oldtown in Westeros. They coexisted peacefully with the Children of the Forest, and the history of the Valyrians predates the arrival of the First Men.

Their priests had prophesied a looming crisis in Westeros, the onset of the Long Night, prompting the Valyrians to flee their homeland.

However, the theory of Valyrian origins still lacked concrete evidence.

While Maester Corlyon refuted Maester Shyren's theory about the black stones' common origin, he simultaneously affirmed the existence of the 'Deep Divers.'

He believed that the ancient structure remnants on Pyke and the mazes of Loras were crafted by the same people, as both structures resembled mazes. Yet, ancient legends from Loras spoke of these maze creators being annihilated by marine creatures, possibly the half-human, half-fish Deep Divers or mermaids.

The academic community remains divided on whether the Deep Divers are indeed mermaids or sirens, but some maesters hold this view.

"Am I being targeted by a mermaid?"

Asha Greyjoy, after hearing the High Priest Benerro's explanation, was momentarily stunned.

She had always been skeptical of tales of gods and spirits. However, the creature that attacked her the previous night was undeniably a monster. Recalling its appearance – sharp fangs stained with blood and flesh, scales covering its body, smooth skin, and a pair of blood-red eyes – Asha shuddered. It was hard for her to associate this creature with the beautiful and gentle mermaids of legends.

The Drowned Men believed that the ancient and greatest king of the Iron Islands, the Grey King, had married a mermaid and fathered a hundred sons. As a child, Asha had curiously asked her uncle Euron about the logistics of such a union, having sneakily observed adults in intimate moments and even playfully teased her brother Theon. Euron Greyjoy, caught off guard by his niece's innocent question, never told her stories again.

Now, recalling the mermaid tales her uncle Euron once shared and juxtaposing them with the monster she encountered, Asha felt a deep chill.

If mermaids truly resembled that creature, she genuinely admired the Grey King. Worthy of being the warrior who slew the sea dragon Nagga, he was indeed a fierce man.

"Nevertheless, it's alright, Lord Emissary."

"While the power of the false gods is fearsome, they can never rival the true gods."

The tall, slender High Priest of the Red Faith, with prominent facial features, spoke calmly.

He had sensed an evil aura surrounding Asha, suspecting that something malevolent was targeting her.

But Benerro hadn't expected the creature to act so swiftly, especially in the bustling upper city of Volantis, the heartland of the Red Faith. This creature seemed to underestimate him.

"You are being targeted by a servant of the false gods. You need the protection of the true god. Otherwise, once it heals, it will come after you again. By then, escaping might not be so easy."

Benerro spoke the truth. For such a half-human, half-fish creature, attacking on land, especially in a bustling city like Volantis, was not ideal.

Asha would eventually set sail, and once at sea, she would be on the creature's turf. It could attack at any time.

There might not be a Victarion to fend it off next time. Although Victarion had survived the critical phase, he was still feverish and far from recovery.

And the creature, having learned from its mistakes, would be more prepared. If it attacked again, Asha might not escape so easily.

"This..."

The raven-haired woman, upon hearing Benerro's words, appeared conflicted.

She realized he was trying to convert her to the Red Faith. Benerro, true to his position as the High Priest of the Red Faith, never missed an opportunity to preach.

But being of Ironborn blood and considering herself the true heir to the Iron Islands, she couldn't easily betray the Drowned God. If she did, even her followers might abandon her.

"I cannot betray the Drowned God."

Asha pondered for a moment, then firmly shook her head.

Chapter 725: Hooked

Chapter 725: Hooked

Bennero watched intently at the woman before him, noticing the fleeting hesitation on her face. He knew he couldn't push her too hard.

As a high-ranking priest, understanding human emotions was his forte. He was also well aware of Asha's stubborn nature. Pushing her too hard might backfire.

"There's another way," Bennero's voice had a sharp edge, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to envelop his lipless mouth.

"Miss Asha, you can stay in the temple and wait for him to come to us."

"When he does, I will personally deal with him."

"Will that work?" Asha, upon hearing the High Priest's words, furrowed her brows, her face filled with concern.

She felt that unless the creature was a fool, it wouldn't just barge into the Red Temple. Wasn't that just seeking death?

But Bennero remained calm, shaking his head as he spoke, "If he doesn't come, you lose nothing. Your uncle can still recover here."

"From what I've observed, he seems reckless, probably recently corrupted by the dark powers. He's not fully consumed, still unaware of his limits."

"His audacity to commit crimes in Volantis shows he doesn't regard me."

"So, he might just dare to enter the temple."

Bennero's words were filled with confidence, even arrogance. If this creature did come, Bennero was certain of his ability to handle it.

After all, as the High Priest of the Lord of Light, revered as the 'Flame of Truth', 'Light of Wisdom', and 'First Servant of the Lord of Light', he was the top priest in the Red Faith.

If he couldn't handle such a creature, he wouldn't hold his esteemed position among the talented members of the Red Faith.

"It seems like the best option for now," the slender woman, with her long legs, finally nodded in agreement after a moment of silence.

"Thank you, High Priest, for your assistance."

"You're welcome, Miss Asha."

Bennero's gaze remained steady, the sunlight reflecting off his bald head, adorned with flame tattoos.

The rain last night in Volantis was one of the reasons Gillian managed to escape. Morning dew still clung to the petals and branches, and the ground was slightly muddy.

"In the long night, darkness is everywhere. We all fight for the light," Bennero said with a deep meaning, nodding slightly to another red-robed priest beside him.

"Machyro."

"High Priest."

Standing next to Bennero was a tall, seven-foot priest with skin as dark as pitch.

His rotund belly resembled a large boulder, and his bone-white hair, tangled like a lion's mane, sprawled across his face.

The flame tattoos on his face were even more exaggerated than Bennero's, covering his cheeks and forehead, making him look somewhat fierce.

Yet, facing Bennero, he was humble and devout. Machyro was one of the top priests in the Red Faith, also known as Bennero's right-hand man, and soon to be the envoy to King's Landing.

"Miss Asha Greyjoy."

"This way, please."

Machyro gestured invitingly, ready to show Asha to her quarters in the temple.

Asha hesitated for a moment, looking at Machyro's intimidating appearance, which wasn't much better than the creature from last night. But she nodded, thanked the High Priest, and left.

Bennero watched as Machyro and Asha departed.

Deep within his eyes, a barely discernible flame burned. Some even said it made his eyes appear slightly red.

He looked at Asha's retreating figure, sensing a shadowy mist around her.

His gaze then shifted to a flame burning beside a temple pillar. With a mere thought, Bennero could see the shadow of anyone connected to the flame.

Except for one person: Viserys.

Bennero couldn't see any trace of him in the flames. Initially, he thought the Lord of Light was preventing him, but later realized that wasn't the case.

He couldn't foresee anything related to Viserys, and neither could anyone else connected to him. It was as if Viserys didn't belong to this world.

"Is the aura around her because she's targeted by the servants of the dark god?"

"Or because she's close to Viserys?"

That evening, as darkness enveloped Volantis, the city's governor ordered all the Tiger Cloaks to search every nook and cranny, hoping to find the creature.

The events of the previous night were witnessed by many, making it impossible to cover up. Rumors spread like wildfire throughout Volantis.

Some believed the creature was a monster that escaped from the ruins of Valyria.

Others thought it was a plot by the Tiger Party's governor, Maloquo Megyr, who secretly cultivated these monsters through alchemy, aiming to rule the world.

However, if the Tiger Party truly had such power, they wouldn't have been in decline for centuries.

Chapter 726: Sacrifice

In truth, some of these speculations were quite close to the real answer.

Jilian had indeed lived in Valantis for several years, residing there even before he became the monster he is now.

The city's recent disappearances indeed included many who had ended up in his belly. He had also escaped from the ruins of Valyria.

To be precise, he had brought a curse or perhaps a virus from there.

By day, the Tiger Cloak army and the Fiery Hand guarding the Red Temple of R'hllor had scoured every nook and cranny of Valantis. They left no stone unturned, from alleys to bridges and even sewer entrances, in their search for Jilian.

His former dwelling was naturally searched. Although the surrounding streets were considered forbidden zones, with locals fearing disappearances upon nearing it, the slave soldiers of Valantis were fearless.

They broke into the dilapidated hut, and their search yielded clues. A movable plank in the floor revealed a hidden chamber below.

Soldiers of the Tiger Cloak, torches in hand, descended and were met with a gruesome sight that made many retch.

Beneath lay a mountain of bones, many gnawed to fragments. Some skeletons were even pinned to the walls.

They were almost certain this was the monster's lair. However, after his escape the previous night, he hadn't returned, and his whereabouts remained unknown.

The rulers of Valantis, the ancient families of the upper city, and the merchants, none wanted such a creature in their city.

They feared he might change his target, not just attacking the imperial envoys but turning on them, perhaps biting their throats as they slept.

In fact, over the recent years, he had already begun hunting in their city. But since the victims were insignificant - slaves, drunkards, or thieves - it hadn't drawn much attention. It would've remained hidden if not for the recent incident.

They were unaware that the monster's target was Asha. Due to the chaos of the previous day, the creature was first spotted by patrolling Tiger Cloak soldiers. In the ensuing chase, he killed three before attacking Asha.

It seemed Asha was just an unfortunate victim, caught in the crossfire.

Had the Valantis elite known the creature was targeting Asha, they might've driven her out immediately, urging her to leave the city as far as possible.

But sadly, they didn't know the truth. And the High Priest of the Red God, known as the 'Light of Wisdom' and 'Flame of Truth', wasn't on their side either.

The politics of Valantis were multifaceted. Some rulers wanted party strength, some sought absolute power, and some aspired to be the Prince of Valantis, like the pirate governor of Myr, the current Pirate Prince.

But Benerro was different; he sought something more sublime.

Thus, he patiently resided in the Red Temple of Valantis, constantly plotting across the continent of Essos, waiting for the right moment.

"The night is long, and full of terrors."

Benerro finished reading a letter from Norvos, then a flame ignited in his palm, burning the letter to ashes.

The fire illuminated his pale face, the flame tattoos on his chin and bald head, and another letter on his desk from Qohor.

Night had fallen, and the city was silent.

Due to the recent visit of the imperial fleet, a curfew was imposed from dusk till dawn.

But after the previous night's attack, the entire city knew of the man-eating, half-man, half-fish creature lurking nearby. By day, his lair was exposed, confirming their fears.

So, as soon as the sun set, Valantis quieted down. People returned home early, shops closed, and the streets were deserted, with the few who ventured out hurrying along.

The city was divided by a large river, the Mother Rhoyne, which flowed rapidly and was quite wide.

Otherwise, the Long Bridge of Valantis wouldn't have been such an architectural marvel, earning its place among Lomas Longstrider's 'Nine Wonders Made by Man'.

In this river, merging into the Summer Sea, a shadow lurked beneath the surface. It was Jilian, the creature who had escaped and vanished the previous night.

Now, he surfaced, just as a large ship passed by. The dim light of the night made it impossible for those on the ship to notice him.

But Jilian paid them no mind, turning his gaze to the distance.

This was his final refuge. After escaping from Andalos, he had returned to his former home. He didn't dare return to the Westerlands, fearing his family's reaction to his monstrous appearance.

So, he came to Valantis. But little did he know that even this last sanctuary would be taken from him.

By day, he had cautiously come ashore but chose to hide, watching as his home was searched. Afterward, he fled once more, seeking refuge in the water.

"I will kill her—"

Jilian's eyes glowed a fierce red, his mind becoming increasingly unhinged. The world before him seemed bathed in a dark red hue.

A strong desire consumed him: to kill every living being, not just the woman who tormented him, but everyone and everything.

Then, offer their souls to a god dwelling below, a deity of destruction. Jilian's mind was hazy, but this thought was crystal clear.

He seemed to see the Fourteen Flames of Valyria, now transformed into fourteen deep, smoke-spewing chasms.

Jilian had resisted his urges for years, but recent events had pushed him over the edge. He was becoming the monster he had once seen in the ruins of Valyria.

His body, floating in the water, still bore the axe wound inflicted by Victarion the previous day.

But now, the wound seemed to have healed, leaving only a long scar and shattered scales. The wound had fully closed.

Then, Jilian's eyes turned a deeper shade of crimson. He gazed towards the Red Temple of R'hllor, letting out a guttural roar.

He then dove deep into the water, disappearing without a trace.

The city of Valantis, with its rich history and political intrigue, was now faced with a new threat, one that lurked in the shadows and depths. The creature, Jilian, with his tragic past and monstrous present, was a force to be reckoned with.

The rulers, merchants, and common folk alike were all in a state of unease. Whispers and rumors spread like wildfire, with tales of the creature's origins and intentions debated in hushed tones.

In the Red Temple, Benerro, the High Priest, continued his machinations, his plans far-reaching and profound. The flames of R'hllor whispered secrets, and he listened intently, preparing for what was to come.

As the city slept, the waters of the Mother Rhoyne remained restless, hiding secrets and tales of old. And in its depths, Jilian waited, plotting his next move, driven by vengeance and an insatiable hunger.

The game of thrones in Valantis had gained a new player, and the stakes had never been higher.

Chapter 727: The Decisive Civil War

The imperial fleet had been anchored at Volantis for several days. Due to an unexpected monster attack, it seemed they would need to stay a few more days at the Red Temple.

Firstly, they needed to tend to the injuries of Uncle Victarion. Secondly, as the High Septon had mentioned, they hoped to lure out the creature that could move freely underwater. Otherwise, it would be troublesome if they were attacked again while sailing towards Naath.

Asha had taken up residence in the Red Temple. She penned down the recent events in a letter, which she then sent to Pentos for the governor, Viserys, to read. It had become a habit for Asha to write a letter before leaving any port.

After all, before setting sail, Viserys had discussed with her that this voyage was to expand the empire's influence, extending the Iron Throne's reach to Volantis, the Summer Isles, and even Slaver's Bay, Yunkai, Meereen, and the distant Qarth.

However, due to the Smoking Sea uprising, there were now many challenges in the east-west communication. Ships had to navigate the deep sea, eliminating many weaker fleets and effectively cutting off communication between the east and west.

Viserys, seated on the Iron Throne, had heard that the Dothraki, who had ventured eastward beyond the Bone Mountains, had encountered a powerful eastern nation and were forced to retreat.

Viserys never hid his curiosity about the east. He even mentioned to Jon Connington that, in the future, once everything was settled, he wanted to ride Balerion from Westeros, flying towards the Sunset Sea, to the very edge of the world.

He speculated that it might be the legendary Mountains of Dawn, the Shadow Lands, the Saffron Straits, or even the continent of Ulthos.

However, these were just Viserys' speculations. Even though the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, this world might not necessarily be spherical. It could have a stranger shape.

After all, this world has gods and magic, so anything is possible.

Until these matters were fully resolved, Viserys had to suppress his curiosity and focus on managing the vast empire he had built, ensuring that it didn't crumble halfway and waste all the previous efforts.

These tasks could only be accomplished after defeating the enemies from the Land of Always Winter and unraveling the mysteries of the Valyrian ruins.

Meanwhile, inside a room, the scratch of a quill on paper could be heard. A woman with high cheekbones and short black hair was writing the letter. This might be the only imperfection on Asha's face. She should have been a beauty, but her hands were rougher than most women's. However, her smile made up for everything.

"Larls."

"Come here."

...

Elsewhere, over the Narrow Sea, the final battle of the Three Daughters' civil war was erupting.

Both sides had lined up their formations on land and sea. On land, the mercenaries of Tyrosh were ready, facing the combined forces of Myr and Lys, along with the Cat's Company hired by the Pirate Prince.

On the sea, the pirates under Salladhor Saan were the main naval force of the alliance, supplemented by a large number of ships provided by the magisters of Lys, many of which were merchant ships hastily converted into warships.

The two sides were now locked in fierce combat. In less than a month of warfare, tens of thousands of troops and hundreds of warships had been deployed near the Disputed Lands and the Stepstones.

Over a hundred warships had been sunk, and countless soldiers had been killed or wounded.

The magisters of Lys hadn't initially planned to invest so much in this war. However, the Archon of Tyrosh seemed determined to conquer both Lys and Myr in one fell swoop, aiming to unify the Three Daughters. Thus, the magisters of Lys had no choice but to resist.

Now, in the sky above the battlefield, an eagle, which shouldn't have been over the sea, soared. Its sharp eyes surveyed the battle below, and the images it saw were relayed to Viserys' eyes.

The Stepstones were at the limit of Viserys' influence. If the eagle flew any further east, it might lose connection with Viserys, as the power of the Old Gods was effective only in Westeros.

Viserys had anticipated this world-renowned war. Initially, he hadn't focused on this region, leaving it to Ramsay to handle. However, Ramsay's disruptive tactics had thrown the Three Daughters into chaos, leading to the outbreak of civil war.

Ramsay's methods were simple. He was adept at exploiting people's desires, similar to Littlefinger, and used the empire's influence to support proxies and deal with those who resisted.

Now, the final battle had begun. The ground echoed with war cries, and the sea was filled with roaring warships.

"All men!"

"Prepare the trebuchets!"

"Fire!"

Boom, boom, boom—

Flaming boulders, trailing long tails of fire, flew into the enemy's fleet. The sea was littered with shattered ships and struggling soldiers.

The Pirate Prince Salladhor Saan personally commanded the naval battle. This was the final showdown, and there was no room for error. The magisters of Lys and the Archon of Tyrosh were also present on the battlefield, though they stayed at the rear.

"Charge!"

The battle raged for an entire day, with both sides fighting fiercely.

However, in the end, the Tyroshi forces were the first to retreat.

The exhausted allied forces of Lys and Myr didn't have the strength to pursue and could only watch as the defeated army withdrew.

Both sides left the battlefield, leaving behind thick smoke and countless shipwrecks and bodies.

The alliance of Lys and Myr had won the final battle, successfully defeating Tyrosh and shattering its ambition to unify the Three Daughters.

Elsewhere, with the victory in the war, celebrations were in order. The entire camp of Lys was immersed in a sea of joy.

The magisters of Lys, including Humpfrey Hightower and Trystane Ormollen, gathered together.

However, during the feast, an unexpected event occurred. Salladhor Saan and his pirates suddenly surrounded the place where the magisters were celebrating.

The young magister, Humpfrey Hightower, suddenly drew his sword and stood up.

Chapter 728: The Coup

The governors of Lys were in the midst of a raucous celebration, toasting to their recent victory in war, each one deep in their cups.

However, a sudden clamor from outside jolted everyone at the table, instantly sobering them up. For the young and dashing golden-haired Governor of Lys, also a key hero of this war, abruptly stood up and unsheathed his sword.

"Hey, boy! What do you think you're doing?"

Another governor, white-haired and frail, leaned on the table as he stood, his voice brimming with undisguised reprimand.

Though Humphrey Hightower had been instrumental in this war, having coordinated with the pirate Prince Salladhor Saan of Myr and personally led the battle, the other governors of Lys didn't hold him in high regard.

For one, he was too young. Secondly, the Hightower family had lost its footing, eradicated by the Iron Throne, and had fled to Lys to scrape by.

If the Emperor of Valyria ever demanded Humphrey's extradition, they would likely tie him up and hand him over without a second thought.

Thus, the other governors had taken advantage of Humphrey in business dealings, given his youth and lack of powerful allies.

However, the usually reserved young man with golden locks chose not to hold back this time. Humphrey Hightower, sword in hand, revealed a cold smirk.

"When a peripheral player rises, someone at the core of power must make way."

"It's a common occurrence."

"Whether willingly or not."

Though Humphrey Hightower was a newly appointed governor of Lys, his life there had been far from pleasant. The main reason was the unequal distribution of power among the governors; some were dominant, while others were decidedly less so.

Regrettably, as a foreigner, Humphrey Hightower faced much ostracization within the Council of Governors in Lys, and even his brother-in-law, Trystane Uller, couldn't offer much help.

In truth, all the governors present were well aware of this, so when Humphrey spoke, they instantly understood his meaning.

"So, you've conspired with that treacherous pirate to elevate yourself, an outsider?"

The white-haired governor, leaning on the table, spoke with a tone of mockery.

"Hmph, I've always said that pirate couldn't be trusted," chimed in another governor.

"Without those pirates, we wouldn't have won this war," Trystane Uller, Humphrey's brother-in-law, retorted with a smile.

Outside, the clamor of battle cries filled the air. Guards had already reported that the pirate Salladhor Saan was leading an attack on the Lysene military camp.

And what of the portly merchant governor, who seemed so harmless? Who would suspect this rotund man, who struggled even to walk?

Trystane's words were not wrong; without the pirates, the Lyseni would have lost the war, and perhaps the Tyroshi would have already unified the Three Daughters.

Yet, some governors couldn't stand the sight of Trystane Uller still wearing a smile.

They were in the midst of a battle, after all. While the pirates might not break through, they had a traitor among them—Humphrey Hightower, a young man who seemed to know no bounds.

"Trystane, how can you still manage to smile at a time like this?" one of the uneasy governors questioned. He had a bad feeling, his eyes darting between Humphrey, who had drawn his sword, and Trystane, who sat with a mysterious grin but had yet to stand.

Their relationship was a well-kept secret; no one knew that Trystane Uller was Humphrey Hightower's brother-in-law.

"We're all here; if that pirate decides to wipe us out..."

Because this decisive battle was crucial, at Trystane Uller's insistence, everyone had gathered to supervise from the rear. On the other side, the Tyroshi Archon was also present on the battlefield. This was a war neither side could afford to lose.

If the Tyroshi were to lose this war, they would forfeit their best chance in centuries to unify the Three Daughters, and their strength would be severely depleted. They had invested too much in this conflict to afford a loss.

The same was true for Lys and the rebuilt Myr; both had reasons they could not afford to lose. Myr had already been sacked by the Dothraki and was a city rebuilt upon ruins. The Tyroshi Archon had long been planning this, and the Lyseni were ill-prepared for war. If the allied forces of Lys and Myr were defeated, they would be directly annexed by the Tyroshi.

So, when the governors of Lys gathered, none could have suspected that a traitor lurked among them—a traitor who had allied with the pirate prince they so despised, intending to eliminate them all after winning the war.

"Your ambition truly gets the blood pumping, young man."

"Do you aspire to be the King of Lys?"

"Even with a pirate and your fallen foreign nobility, you can't rule Lys," said the white-haired governor, waving his hand dismissively after his sarcastic remarks.

"The noble-blooded Lyseni are not like the Westerosi; they won't fall for your lordly and noble tricks."

"And your pirate friend hasn't broken through yet. Even if he does, you'll likely die here first."

However, Humphrey Hightower, the subject of their mockery, was not angered.

The golden-haired young governor held his longsword, his guards tense and gripping their weapons. Yet, he himself seemed calm, showing no signs of being trapped.

"Yes, I could very well die before Salladhor Saan breaks through," Humphrey said, his face fearless and his tone tinged with a cold laugh.

"But I have no intention of becoming the King of Lys, nor do I desire it."

"Oh?" The elderly Lyseni governor paused, puzzled.

He couldn't understand why Humphrey Hightower would go to such lengths, pay such a high price, and even forsake his position as a governor to conspire with the notorious pirate Salladhor Saan. If not to ascend further and become the King of Lys, then for what purpose?

Chapter 729: Prince Rys

"Because the one who will become the Prince of Lys is me," said Trystane Uller, who was seated next to the white-haired governor of Lys.

Whoosh—

In a swift motion, Trystane drew the dagger from his belt and plunged it into the governor's chest. He pulled it out, and blood spurted forth, staining the old man's beard and garments.

"What?!"

The sudden turn of events caught the other nine governors of Lys completely off guard. They had never suspected that besides Humphrey Hightower, the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing, there was another traitor among them. The relationship between Humphrey and Trystane had gone unnoticed.

While the remaining governors of Lys were stunned by the sudden upheaval, Humphrey Hightower remained unfazed. His swordsmanship was decent; after all, the Hightower family was among the most powerful in Westeros, and their children were trained in both arts and arms.

"Die!"

Seizing the opportunity, the golden-haired young man thrust his sword into the chest of one of the governor's guards. The blade pierced through the man's back, and blood flowed, signaling the start of this internal strife.

"Kill!"

"Attack!"

"Slay them all!"

Humphrey Hightower roared, and the Hightower guards behind him snapped to attention, drawing their swords and charging at the guards surrounding them.

On the other side, because Humphrey had suddenly stepped forward and drawn a great deal of animosity, the remaining guards had abandoned their masters and completely encircled this young governor of Lys and his protective detail.

(to be continued)

The governors of Lys found themselves lacking in protective forces. Unlike the nobles of Westeros, who are trained in both arts and arms, these governors had long forgotten the feel of a sword in their hands.

Thus, when Trystane Uller's guards and the soldiers he had bribed suddenly attacked, it was nothing short of a one-sided massacre.

"Kill!"

The grand tent of the governors of Lys erupted in cries of battle. Several governors were caught off guard and slain on the spot. Their guards, lost in the chaos and lacking orders, engaged in aimless combat.

"My Lord!"

"My Lord!"

Just then, a messenger burst into the tent. The pirates and mercenary bands outside were pressing hard, and the commander in charge of the Lyseni forces was calling for reinforcements. The messenger had not expected to lift the tent flap and find such a gruesome scene.

Humphrey Hightower wielded his blood-stained longsword, slashing left and right. Beside Trystane Uller stood a mysterious swordsman.

Cloaked in black, he wielded a slender sword common in Braavos, his movements elusive as a shadow. His blade flickered, piercing the throats or hearts of one governor's guard after another. Few could last more than two rounds against him; his sword was both swift and ruthless, and the bodies that fell beside him were numerous.

Trystane Uller was a man who valued his life; he had no intention of sacrificing it for his ambitions. Especially when he had yet to spend all his gold and when he thought of Humphrey Hightower's sister, his most cherished concubine—a woman soft as a pillow and radiant with smiles.

He had no doubt that if he died here, Lynesse would remarry without shedding a tear, and Humphrey would gladly marry off his beautiful sister to another noble in exchange for more political resources.

So, he had prepared thoroughly for this operation, hiring a top-tier swordsman for protection. Rumor had it that he was a former First Sword of Braavos, and Trystane had paid a hefty price for his services.

And the former First Sword of Braavos was worth every penny. He killed swiftly, ensuring that his employer faced no danger.

Whoosh—

In the blink of an eye, all the guards in the tent were slain. The hired swordsman pulled his blade from the heart of the last guard, and a thin stream of blood spurted out like a fountain.

"Spare us!"

"Spare us!"

The surviving governors of Lys were nearly wetting themselves in terror. Seeing their guards slaughtered, they had no choice but to kneel and incessantly beg for mercy.

In the Free Cities, treachery and betrayal are often more blatant than in Westeros, where a strong culture of nobility and lordship prevails. Captured enemies in Westeros are usually ransomed rather than killed, but in the Free Cities, the preference is to cut the grass and remove the roots.

"I pledge my support for you as the Prince of Lys, Lord Trystane Uller!"

One of them kept kowtowing as he spoke.

Trystane Uller glanced at his former colleagues kneeling before him, his eyes flickering momentarily. He then turned to look at his brother-in-law, Humphrey Hightower.

Humphrey, still catching his breath after the intense battle and holding his blood-stained sword, met Trystane's gaze and gave a slight nod.

It would be easy to kill all the governors of Lys, but Trystane Uller needed their support to secure his position as the Prince of Lys. Therefore, sparing a few lives as hostages was clearly more advantageous.

Just then, due to the lack of reinforcements, the pirates and mercenaries outside finally broke through.

Trystane Uller and his brother-in-law exchanged glances once more. The portly governor of Lys wiped the blood from his hands and stepped outside.

By now, all the governors of Lys were either dead or captured, and the morale of the Lyseni forces had plummeted. They had no choice but to follow Governor Trystane Uller.

Salladhor Saan, the great pirate who had led the assault, saw Trystane Uller and Humphrey Hightower emerge and burst into hearty laughter.

"I knew you guys could do it, my friends!"

Salladhor Saan had long ago struck a deal with Humphrey Hightower and Trystane Uller. They would help Salladhor prevent Lys from sending troops to attack Myr, and in return, Salladhor would help them seize Lys.

Furthermore, they would form a mutual defense pact, recognizing each other's rule—Lys acknowledging Myr's de facto control, and Myr acknowledging Trystane as the governor of Lys.

They had set a trap long ago, ensnaring the rulers of the Three Daughters and essentially gaining control of two Free Cities without lifting a finger.

And the one who had facilitated this alliance was none other than a spy from the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs. They used the pretext of the Imperial Fleet's visit, claiming that the Empire was planning to expand its influence on the eastern continent, to lure them into joining.

Chapter 730: The Submission of the Three Daughters Kingdom

"The civil war in the Three Daughters Kingdom has come to an end."

Viserys, after reviewing the intelligence in his hands, spoke.

"Congratulations, Your Grace, on acquiring another vast and fertile land. The eastern expansion has further progressed."

On the other side, Varys, the Master of Whispers, spoke in a soft voice. His voice had become more effeminate after his castration, a procedure that took away much of his masculine vigor.

The end of the civil war in the Three Daughters Kingdom, due to a prior secret agreement, granted Viserys the special privilege to act as he saw fit within the empire. As a result, Ramsay sought from Viserys a decree of pardon and three decrees of ennoblement.

One of these pardons was for Henvry Hightower, bearing the Targaryen family crest stamped by Viserys himself. It pardoned Henvry Hightower and the old Hightower family, allowing them to re-enter the empire's system.

The other two ennoblement decrees were for Salado San, who claimed to be the Prince of Myr, and Trigg Omolon, the former wealthy governor who had recently staged a coup and declared himself the Prince of Lys.

They would be appointed by the empire, nominally as one of the empire's vassals. Both Lys and Myr would be incorporated into the empire's territories, just like Pentos and Andalos.

However, while the empire accepted their allegiance, it would not provide them with any actual support. The Three Daughters Kingdom could still maintain a significant degree of independence, much like Dorne, maintaining a superior status.

The Three Daughters region is considered an independent special zone within the empire's system. As Varys put it, there's no need to rush. As long as the empire remains strong, their inclusion is inevitable.

The one who suffered the most in this trap was the ruler of Tyrosh.

He staked the fate of the entire city-state on this war, but due to the covert operations of the internal affairs department, his efforts were in vain.

Tyrosh lost its ability and confidence to unify the Three Daughters Kingdom. Unless something unexpected happens, it will likely remain in a state of decline for at least a decade.

The last ennoblement document Ramsay received was for the ruler of Tyrosh. However, the political situation in Tyrosh is slightly different from the other two city-states.

Myr and Lys both have a governor council system, where the governor comes from local merchants or ancient families. But the ruler of Tyrosh is similar to the Sea Lord of Braavos, elected through an election. Although the Tyrosh election is filled with darkness and bribery, it is fundamentally different from the governor council and requires consideration of the public's reaction.

However, Ramsay claimed in his letter that he could make the ruler of Tyrosh comply, so Viserys didn't ask too many questions.

The Three Daughters Kingdom was like a freebie. Without paying a significant price, by instigating their internal conflicts and letting them fight amongst themselves, he acquired three prosperous free-trade city-states. What more could he ask for?

What concerned him more was the monster mentioned in Asha's letter.

Asha and her fleet, representing the empire, had now reached Valantis, thousands of miles away from the mainland. Her letter to King's Landing naturally wouldn't arrive so quickly and was relayed by Bessie.

"I've seen such a creature in a book before."

Varys and Viserys walked and talked in the Red Keep's garden. Viserys calmly said.

The book he referred to was the diary of Gillian Lannister. Interestingly, the person who exposed Gillian's true identity back then was now standing here.

It was Varys's little birds who exposed the identity of Maester Gunther. This made Viserys realize that 'Maester Gunther' had another identity. The real maester sent by the Citadel had died en route.

After Gillian was poisoned by Viserys, some of his belongings were found in his bedroom, including his diary. The diary recorded his harrowing escape from the Valyrian ruins, where he seemed to have been attacked by a half-human, half-fish creature.

However, Viserys never suspected that the creature that attacked Asha might be Gillian, as the story seemed too far-fetched.

In fact, shortly after Gillian's death, his grave was dug up, and the body disappeared. Viserys didn't take it too seriously. He was sure that Gillian was dead before the burial, but he didn't know who stole the body.

"The existence of such creatures in the world is indeed chilling."

"I wouldn't want to be bitten in my sleep by such a monster."

The bald eunuch, Varys, shrugged and said.

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. But now that the White Walkers have appeared, it's not surprising that there are many other monsters in this world."

Viserys spoke the truth, and this world was becoming increasingly incomprehensible to him.

He didn't know if his presence had disrupted the normal operation of this world, leading to the early descent of the White Walkers and the frequent appearance of various monsters.

According to the original timeline, he should still be begging with his sister in Pentos, being a true 'Beggar King'. Jon Arryn hadn't been poisoned, Ned Stark hadn't gone south, and the story hadn't even started.

But now, there were unfamiliar changes that were completely different from the world he thought he knew.

Viserys originally thought that the biggest boss in this world was the White Walkers. But now, with the mysterious Smoking Sea becoming active and the Valyrian ruins hiding a large number of monsters, the deeper he understood, the more he felt it was beyond redemption.

If they all start coming out of the ruins in the future, the consequences are unimaginable.

According to Asha's description, this half-human, half-fish creature indeed has the shadow of the monsters in the Valyrian ruins. They all seem to be bewitched, crazy, bloodthirsty, and their physical fitness has been greatly enhanced.

Could it be that the monsters in the Valyrian ruins are starting to flee with the turmoil of the Smoking Sea?

Recently, there have been reports of ships disappearing near the Smoking Sea, which continues to expand at a slow pace.

Viserys felt a headache. On one side, the issue with the White Walkers hadn't been resolved, like a sword hanging over his head. On the other side, if there were problems with the Valyrian ruins, he would be overwhelmed.

Because Viserys had personally entered the Valyrian ruins and escaped, he knew that the lost continent also contained a huge crisis that could destroy the entire world. It's no less than the White Walkers, and might even be stronger.

"I hope nothing happens."

The silver-haired young man frowned slightly, murmuring in his heart.

Chapter 731: Capturing the Monster

"However, the High Priest of the Red God, Benerro, is also worth noting, Your Grace."

Elsewhere, Varys spoke up at this moment.

"I've received some news. Lately, the followers of the Red God on the eastern continent have been restless."

"They've instigated several uprisings, even destroying the statue of the Black Goat God in Qohor, leading to a tense atmosphere within the city."

The people of Qohor worship the Black Goat God, just as the Lysenes worship the Goddess of Love and the Tyroshi worship the Triune God. These are all native religions.

However, followers of the Red God are spread across the entire eastern continent, even having many followers within these native religious strongholds.

Viserys turned slightly upon hearing this.

"Recently, Norvos began expelling followers of the Red God. Did they foresee these uprisings?"

"I believe so," Varys nodded in agreement.

"The old monk of Norvos is said to be one of the oldest living people in the world. His vast experience allows him to make the best decisions."

"Just experience?"

Viserys frowned, his pale purple eyes flashing briefly.

"It seems I should meet him in person when I get the chance."

"However, he's quite old. I just hope he lives long enough for that."

Outside, a light drizzle began.

Volantis is situated at the mouth of the Rhoyne, stretching northward into the hills and marshes of the mainland. Hence, it's humid and hot throughout the year.

Due to its geographical location, even when Westeros approaches winter, Volantis remains in the peak of summer. But now, with Westeros in high summer, the temperature in Volantis is almost unbearable.

Asha sat in her room, looking out at the rain, feeling a bit uneasy. The pillars, steps, walls, arches, towers, and aerial corridors of the Red Temple of R'hllor were all drenched in the cold rain. The usually blazing flames were all extinguished, plunging it into darkness.

This was the darkest night Asha had seen since she'd been here. The Red Temple was usually brightly lit, with torches everywhere to ward off the darkness.

This only added to Asha's unease. The last time it rained, she was attacked by that half-man, half-fish creature.

That day, the world outside was as dark as it was now.

"Will that creature come tonight?"

The short-haired woman pondered, sitting by the window.

She had been living in the Red Temple for some time. Due to their itinerary, they would set sail for their final destination, the island of Naath in the Summer Sea, the day after tomorrow at the latest.

If the creature didn't attack her in the next two days, they'd be on their own once they reached the open sea.

Asha's uncle, Victarion, was also recovering from his injuries. Losing a chunk of flesh from one's arm isn't a minor injury, especially given the current medical conditions.

However, Victarion was in good shape. He had a fever for a few days but eventually pulled through.

Now he could walk normally, but he still couldn't do heavy work or fight. His arm was wrapped in thick bandages.

"I hope everything goes smoothly," Asha sighed, glancing at the dagger on her table.

She never expected so many things to happen on this voyage. There were even two near-death experiences. She initially thought it would be a straightforward mission, but it turned out to be full of surprises.

But just as Asha was lost in thought, she heard a faint noise outside her window.

"What was that?"

The short-haired woman was momentarily stunned, then quickly realized.

"It's here!"

A chill ran down Asha's spine as she grabbed the dagger from the table.

Soon, a dark figure appeared outside her window, its blood-red eyes fixed on her.

At that moment, Gillian's mind was in chaos. His blood-red eyes locked onto Asha, and his voice became deep and hoarse.

"Die!"

He had completely transformed into a monstrous creature, just like the one he had seen in the ruins of Valyria.

However, killing this woman was Gillian's last goal when he was sane. So it was deeply ingrained in his chaotic mind, becoming the thing he had to do after turning into a monster.

The presence of the Red Temple made him sense danger. But as Benerro said, a newly born monster doesn't know its limits. So, in the end, Gillian appeared here.

But this time, Gillian was much smarter. He didn't barge in and start killing. Instead, he sneaked in without alerting anyone, using the gray rain as cover.

He finally found Asha Greyjoy and broke through the window, ready to tear her apart.

But just then, a loud shout came from outside Asha's room.

"Monster, die!"

A tall red-robed monk burst in. His skin was as black as pitch, with a round belly, a long beard, and his face and forehead covered in fiery tattoos.

He was Machorro, the right-hand man of the High Priest of the Red God, Benerro.

He was placed in the room next to Asha Greyjoy by Benerro as bait, waiting for the creature known as the 'Deep One' to show up.

And today, with the light rain, this creature took advantage of the rain and sneaked into the Red Temple to commit murder. Machorro caught him red-handed.

The creature that had just broken in was about to kill Asha but was distracted by Machorro. It roared and charged at him.

But the tower-like red-robed monk wasn't scared. He took a swig from a gourd that looked like a wine bottle, then spat out a stream of bright, hot fire, illuminating the entire room.

The creature, named the Deep One, was caught off guard and ran straight into the flames, screaming in pain. This fire seemed to have a significant restraining effect on him.

Gillian screamed, terrified. He tried to escape through the window, but outside, the temple was surrounded by countless Hands of R'hllor. Leading them was the High Priest of the Red God, Benerro.

Chapter 732: Sacrifice

"Perceive the essence of the world, truth surrounds you, everything is clear at a glance."

"Darkness reigns in the long night, danger lurks everywhere, but in the light of day, prosperity thrives."

The night was deep and silent.

Yet, the temple of R'hllor was brightly lit. The Flame's Hand, guardians of the temple, sat kneeling, harmoniously chanting the Song of Truth.

During a recent assault, Gillian fell into a trap. He was gravely wounded and captured alive. Now, he was chained to a makeshift pyre, roaring incessantly. It seemed he had lost all reason, transformed entirely into a monstrous being.

The High Priest of the Red Faith, Benerro, personally presided over this sacrifice. Leading the congregation in their chant, he then, through some arcane magic, pointed a single hand towards the moon. Clenching his fist, as his voice reached its peak, flames erupted from his palm.

This sudden display startled those in attendance, including Asha Greyjoy, the bandaged Victarion, and a few Ironborn who had taken residence in the temple.

They had once lived on the bleak Iron Islands, where, aside from cheap iron ore, even food was scarce. Such a barren land where even birds wouldn't deign to defecate. How could these Ironborn have ever witnessed such a spectacle?

If they stayed in the temple of R'hllor any longer, Asha and Victarion might remain unaffected, but the Ironborn behind them might be tempted to convert to the Red Faith.

After all, the priests of the Red Faith were exceptionally skilled in proselytizing. Otherwise, they wouldn't have flourished worldwide.

Benerro ignited the wood beneath the pyre with a fireball from his palm. The flames began to slowly burn, and the chants of the congregation grew more fervent.

Yet, Benerro was not satisfied with the pace. With both hands, he cast two more fireballs, fully igniting the wood beneath. A massive fire blazed.

Gillian, though his mind was clouded and he had become a monstrous being, still retained the primal instincts of an animal.

Sensing danger, he began to struggle violently, letting out a piercing scream. This scream almost drowned out the chanting of the Flame's Hand below, but it was in vain.

The High Priest stood before the pyre, his gaze unwavering as he watched the flames consume the monster. His lips continued to move in prayer.

The red-robed priests behind him remained calm and composed until Gillian's screams reached their peak.

A silhouette, half-man, half-fish, writhed within the flames. Eventually, it fell, and the screams faded. Only then did the red-robed priests breathe a sigh of relief.

Capturing this frenzied creature had come at a great cost. Several of the Flame's Hand had been torn apart during the skirmish. The guardians of the temple of R'hllor always numbered a thousand, no more, no less. For every fallen guardian, another would replace him.

The flames slowly died down, leaving the pyre in ruins. The demon within had been reduced to ashes, with only a few fragmented bones remaining. These were collected by the arriving red-robed priests in wooden boxes.

Its remains would serve as a testament to the congregation, proof that the red-robed priests had burned a true demon alive. With such evidence, how could they not attract more followers?

"The demon has been sacrificed to the true God. The emissaries should no longer be attacked," Benerro approached the still somewhat shaken Asha and Victarion and said.

"Is he truly dead?" Asha inquired.

"That was just a trivial display of the power bestowed by the true God," Benerro replied nonchalantly. "Fire is power."

Asha had never felt such a strong urge to convert to the faith of R'hllor. If believing in the Red God granted one magic...

When the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead invaded Pyke, Asha, her father King Balon, and countless Ironborn had no means to resist. The Iron Islands had fallen, becoming a haven for the dead.

Especially when Benerro mentioned 'Fire is power,' Asha strongly agreed. She had seen dragons and believed in the power of fire.

Perhaps, in a world without magic or dragons, more weapons relying on fire would emerge.

At that moment, the red-robed priest, Machorro, who had recently saved Asha's life, approached. The demon's remains had been collected.

"High Priest," he greeted, then turned to Asha, "Emissary."

"Thank you, Priest Machorro, for your timely assistance," Asha nodded in gratitude.

"I will send Machorro to King's Landing to meet with the Emperor," Benerro announced.

The matter had been settled earlier. Asha wasn't sure about the internal disputes within the Red Faith, but it was evident that Benerro, the High Priest, and Melisandre, the Emperor's confidante and now vice-chancellor of the theological academy controlling the Red Faith in Westeros, were not from the same faction.

Every time Melisandre was mentioned recently, Benerro seemed wary. Although she was just a regular priestess, she was not to be trifled with.

Sending Machorro to King's Landing had the dual purpose of seeking the truth and gaining power.

After all, Westeros was a land of immense potential. The false gods' lies were unraveling, and more and more followers were choosing the Red Faith.

With so many religions in Westeros, from the Old Gods of the North, the Seven of the Andals, the rapidly expanding Red Faith, the nature spirits of Dorne, to the least followed Drowned God, the Red Faith had a lot of competition.

Yet, the Red Faith was growing, and with evidence like the burned demon, their numbers would only increase.

Chapter 733: The Summer Sea

With matters in Volantis settled, there was no reason for the Imperial fleet to continue anchoring here.

Two days later, at dawn, the three Triarchs of Volantis personally bid farewell at the harbor. The fleet, flying banners of black with a red dragon, set sail, officially leaving Volantis behind and heading for their final destination: Naath.

Known as the "Island of Butterflies," Naath is an island off the northwest coast of the Sothoryos continent in the Summer Sea. It is also the homeland of Missandei.

As the fleet finally sailed toward Naath, Missandei's cousin, Milaz, the emissary from Naath, was somewhat emotional. Due to the Naathi's love for peace, his homeland often fell victim to pirate and slaver raids.

Upon hearing that the last descendant of the Valyrian Freehold had reclaimed the Iron Throne, the tribal chieftains sent Milaz to seek aid from their former suzerain, hoping that the descendant could restore the glory of old and send a fleet to protect Naath.

Before setting out, Milaz had little hope. During the Targaryen dynasty, emissaries from Naath had sought help from King's Landing multiple times. They were always well-fed and well-treated, but the moment military aid was mentioned, they were flatly refused.

The cost of sending troops to Naath was too high for the Iron Throne to bear. Moreover, they lacked the resolve to reclaim the glory of their Valyrian ancestors, being more concerned with the few gold dragons they had.

This time, Milaz had come to King's Landing with little expectation, but to his surprise, he succeeded. He became the first emissary in centuries to bring back aid, and now, as he saw the relief forces about to arrive, how could he not be emotionally stirred?

The Imperial fleet set sail once more from Volantis, their ships cutting through the vast expanse of the Summer Sea. The first few days were calm, and they even caught sight of the legendary Smoking Sea from a distance.

The area now covered by the Smoking Sea had reached an astonishing extent. A thick, gray fog shrouded the sea, stretching as far as the eye could see.

The dense mist churned continuously, as if the water was boiling. One could even faintly hear the roars of some ancient creature, sending chills down one's spine.

Asha and the many crew members on board had never seen anything like this. They couldn't help but marvel at the world's mysteries and wonders.

"What a magnificent sight!"

Had they not ventured out to sea, living their entire lives in their hometowns, they might never have witnessed such grandeur, never have glimpsed the mysteries of this world.

The tales of their journey could be boasted about to their grandchildren, as they sat in the shade of the village trees, recounting the myriad sights their grandfathers had seen at sea.

Whoosh—

The fog of the Smoking Sea continued to churn. The Imperial fleet, wisely, kept their distance. The ships formed a formation, cutting through the waves and sailing on the tranquil sea.

"It's said that the creature living in Volantis escaped from this forsaken continent," said an Imperial naval soldier, standing on the deck, clad in black and red armor and draped in a Targaryen family cloak.

"How many such beasts might still be lurking within?"

"Thank the gods they're all trapped in the Smoking Sea. What would we do if they all got out?"

These were rumors they had heard in Volantis. Being not far from the Smoking Sea, the people of Volantis had far richer tales and legends about it than those in Westeros.

The stories told by the people of the North mostly came from the even more mysterious lands beyond the Wall. In contrast, those living in Volantis had never heard tales from beyond the Wall; they were more concerned about the ever-expanding Smoking Sea—would it eventually swallow Volantis as well?

Standing not far away on the deck, Asha heard the soldiers' chatter. The biting sea breeze brushed against her cheeks and the strands of hair on her forehead. The short-haired woman remained silent.

She didn't know if that day would ever come, but as someone who had personally experienced attacks from White Walkers and other creatures, she certainly didn't wish for it.

Because that would mean widespread devastation. Many people were already struggling to survive; why should they also have to face these calamities?

The Imperial fleet continued to sail through the waves, swiftly leaving the vicinity of the Smoking Sea. The sky-obscuring gray fog and the faint roars that had filled their ears and eyes vanished.

The soldiers aboard felt their spirits lift as they distanced themselves from the Smoking Sea. After all, life at sea might be monotonous, but the vistas were breathtaking.

The Summer Sea was dotted with sporadic islands. Following their nautical charts, the fleet encountered indigenous inhabitants on some of these islands, offering the soldiers a taste of diverse local cultures at each stop.

However, they noticed that the farther south they went, the darker the skin of the indigenous people became. Some islanders had dark, almost black skin, adorned with feathers, and wore scant clothing—barely enough to cover their bodies. But this was also related to the local climate.

The fleet continued its course toward Naath Island. Along the way, they eradicated several pirate bands that had been terrorizing the Summer Sea, destroying their lairs. They even faced an ambush from local tribes during one of their stops. Asha Greyjoy, without any hesitation, annihilated the tribe, making it another fruitful day.

The Greyjoys had their roots in piracy; every Ironborn knew the art of raiding and plundering. Thus, Asha Greyjoy was in her element.

Unfortunately, good times don't last. The Imperial fleet encountered a significant storm. Under Asha's command, they managed to navigate through it but suffered losses in ships and manpower.

Asha remembered Viserys' explicit instructions: once they reached the overseas empire, resupplying would be impossible. Everything depended on Asha Greyjoy's own efforts.

Viserys was clear: the empire couldn't afford to send supplies. The cost was too high. Asha was to resort to raiding.

After much consideration, Viserys had concluded that this Kraken's daughter was the best choice for this expedition.

Before reaching Naath Island, the Imperial fleet arrived at another significant stopover point.

This was the Summer Isles, located to the east of Naath Island. The archipelago consisted of three islands much larger than the Iron Islands: Walano Island, Omboru Island, and Zalu Island.

In fact, the largest among them, Zalu Island, was bigger than all the Iron Islands combined.

Chapter 734: Tribal Chieftain

The political landscape of the Summer Isles is peculiar. Despite the archipelago's vast size and considerable population, it has never coalesced into a single nation or ethnic group. Instead, it exists in a state of fragmented rule, much like the petty kingdoms of old.

Islands like Walano, Omboru, and Zalos are dotted with tribes in a primitive state of civilization. Far from united, these tribes are often at war with each other, nursing deep-seated grudges and vendettas.

This tribal structure bears some resemblance to the Dothraki, although the Dothraki have undergone several unifications in their history. Even now, they are united under a formidable Khal named Mengo Kao. Despite their defeat on the Eastern Road, the Dothraki horde remains a force to be reckoned with.

In contrast, the tribes of the Summer Isles have never experienced unification. The largest tribe resides on Walano, boasting the greatest population and overall strength. They also control the island's largest settlement.

Known as Lotus Port, it serves as the de facto capital of the Summer Isles in the eyes of outsiders. However, the locals do not regard Lotus Port as their capital. Instead, it serves as a neutral ground for tribes to trade goods and conduct business, a sanctuary where hostilities are forbidden.

Walano also hosts two other towns, Last Lament and Tall Trees Town, making it the most populous island in the Summer Isles, followed by Zalos and Omboru.

Asha Greyjoy's fleet has docked at Zalos, an island home to two major indigenous tribes: the Red Flower Vale tribe and the Sweet Lotus Vale tribe.

Beneath them are numerous smaller tribes of little consequence, their weakness forcing them to align with one of the major tribes for survival.

These two dominant tribes control the island's primary freshwater valleys, located at opposite ends of Zalos. The Red Flower Vale tribe occupies the eastern part, while the Sweet Lotus Vale tribe is situated in the west.

Asha Greyjoy and her fleet have entered the territory of the Red Flower Vale tribe.

The natives have dark, lustrous skin and speak in an incomprehensible local dialect. They wear brightly colored feathered cloaks, the vibrancy of which indicates their status within the tribe. Lower-ranking warriors are almost naked, adorned only with a single feather in their hair and armed with either a spear or a bow and arrows.

Though the natives were somewhat tense upon seeing the foreign fleet and soldiers, they didn't descend into outright panic. The Summer Isles are not an entirely isolated archipelago; many of its tribes engage in trade with the outside world, and it's not uncommon for ships to pass through.

However, they had never seen a fleet like Asha Greyjoy's—ships of such tonnage, soldiers so disciplined, an aura so commanding.

The warriors of the Red Flower Vale tribe loosely arranged themselves into formations, brandishing their spears and making a raucous display of bravado. They wanted to appear formidable, but their eyes betrayed their nervousness as they glanced at the fleet anchored off the coast and the soldiers aboard.

Asha Greyjoy stood at the prow of her ship, clad in finely crafted leather armor and draped in a black cloak. A longsword hung at her waist.

"Let's go, disembark."

The sea breeze tousled her hair as she looked down at the tribal formations below. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the soldiers beside her and led a small detachment down from the ship.

On the other side, the Red Flower Vale tribe's formation showed signs of disarray as they saw people disembarking from the fleet.

Soon after, an elder chieftain with graying hair, leaning on a cane and adorned in a vibrant feathered cloak, approached with a translator.

He stood before Asha Greyjoy, placed one hand on his chest, and bowed slightly, uttering words in an incomprehensible dialect.

The young, dark-skinned translator beside the elder chieftain appeared somewhat nervous. After the elder finished speaking, the translator hurriedly addressed Asha Greyjoy in broken High Valyrian, inquiring respectfully about the purpose of her visit and the army she brought.

High Valyrian is the most widely spoken language in the Summer Sea and its surrounding regions. It's a remnant of the Freehold's influence over the various small kingdoms, city-states, and tribes in the area. Everyone here has felt the impact of Valyria.

However, the Dragonlords of Valyria never coveted these lands, so they never conquered and transformed them. As a result, the Summer Isles have retained their original character.

Having spent considerable time on diplomatic missions, Asha Greyjoy had also mastered enough High Valyrian to communicate effectively. As they conversed, the tension on the tribal chieftain's face quickly dissipated.

However, a trace of incredulity remained in his eyes. He hadn't expected the fleet to claim allegiance to the Valyrian Empire.

"The Freehold has been re-established in the West?"

The Freehold may not have conquered these lands, but its influence on the island's indigenous people was profound.

Having such a powerful neighbor was like a mountain pressing down on the chieftains of the Summer Isles, leaving them breathless.

Yet, as if cursed by the gods, the Freehold collapsed overnight. The tsunami that ensued also struck the Summer Isles, causing devastating casualties and leaving an indelible memory on the natives. But the mountain that had weighed on them also vanished.

After the fall of Valyria, the Summer Isles had no powerful 'neighbors' nearby. No one would go to the trouble of traveling such a distance to invade them.

But now, after several centuries, a fleet claiming to be from the Valyrian Empire had arrived at the Summer Isles.

The chieftain of the Red Flower Vale tribe spoke at length again, and his words were translated.

This chieftain was not unfamiliar with the names of Westeros and the Iron Throne; he had heard them from passing sailors.

However, Westeros was too remote for them. To the people of the Summer Isles, Westeros was just an island slightly larger than their own, perhaps as big as the Valyrian Peninsula.

After all, Valyria was already the end of the world for them; the local natives could hardly travel any further in their lifetimes.

The elderly chieftain of the Red Flower Vale tribe mentioned a name to Asha: Jalabhar Xho.

Chapter 735: Golden Heartwood Bow

Jalaba Saul was the 'prince' of the former Red Flower Valley tribe, more precisely, the son of the previous chieftain.

Years after the Usurper's War, a fierce civil war broke out in the Red Flower Valley tribe on Zale Island. Jalaba's father, the chieftain at the time, was killed by his own people. Consequently, Jalaba Saul fled overseas in haste.

He wandered to the continent of Essos, seeking assistance from various city-states to reclaim his tribe. However, he faced rejection and ridicule everywhere he went.

Eventually, Jalaba Saul arrived in King's Landing. King Robert was somewhat tempted by the honor of conquering the Summer Isles, but faced opposition from his council. The Iron Throne was burdened with massive debts at the time, making it impossible to launch an expedition. Thus, the idea was abandoned.

Undeterred, Jalaba Saul later approached Viserys, only to be rejected once again.

Now, the prince of the Red Flower Valley tribe has resigned himself to a life of indulgence in King's Landing. The treasures he brought with him from his escape are more than enough to sustain a lavish lifestyle for a lifetime.

The current chieftain of the Red Flower Valley tribe is the very man who usurped Jalaba Saul's father. He was once a priest in the tribe, but after killing the chieftain, he took over the position. However, age has caught up with him, and he now requires a cane to walk.

The chieftain of the Red Flower Valley tribe cautiously inquired if Asha was there at the behest of Jalaba Saul to attack the Summer Isles. Only after receiving a negative response did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Asha had seen this dark-skinned, rotund man during her time in King's Landing. Most in the city saw him as a curious spectacle. His unique appearance and frequent drunkenness made him a subject of amusement.

Asha's visit to the Red Flower Valley tribe was primarily to recruit soldiers to replenish the losses from the storm and to resupply one last time before reaching the Isle of Naath.

The self-proclaimed general from the Valyrian Empire stated her intentions, and the chieftain of the Red Flower Valley tribe immediately agreed.

In reality, he had little choice. The empire's fleet was positioned menacingly offshore, clearly ready to plunder if not appeased.

The chieftain then graciously invited Asha to be a guest in the tribe. Despite her reluctance, Asha had no choice but to accept.

During the storm, the fleet had lost several small warships and over a hundred soldiers. Many young and able-bodied men from the Red Flower Valley tribe were eager to join the fleet.

The primary reason was the imposing presence of the empire's fleet at their doorstep, which left a profound impression on them. They were curious about the world beyond.

Their chieftain couldn't stop them and had to let them go.

During her brief stay in the Red Flower Valley tribe, Asha learned about the culture of this land. After all, the Summer Isles would be her neighbor for some time, and it was essential to establish good relations in advance.

On the Summer Isles, people consider the art of lovemaking as sacred, as it pertains to the continuation of their race. They view procreation as the holiest of acts.

Moreover, prostitutes are respected on these isles. Even some of the high-born engage in this profession.

The natives of the Summer Isles revere their elders. To honor the deceased, their customs include drinking and lovemaking. Archery is another crucial cultural skill here. Their specially crafted bows have a much longer range than others.

The Summer Isles are abundant with a unique tree called the Golden Heart. Bows made from this wood can shoot arrows over great distances. Most warriors on the isles are expert archers.

The people of the Summer Isles also brew a sweet amber wine. They don't cultivate many crops and primarily consume fruits and fish.

Asha tasted this sweet wine at a tribal feast. She found it even sweeter than the wines of Greenstone Island. However, its excessive sweetness lacked the kick she desired.

The chieftain of the Red Flower Valley tribe also introduced his son to Asha. The young man, with his dark skin and colorful feathers, flaunted his muscles in front of Asha, much like a peacock displaying its plumage. Asha had to suppress her urge to comment sarcastically.

The chieftain's intention was clear: he hoped to 'marry off' his son to this powerful imperial general. This would provide a protective umbrella for his tribe, ensuring they wouldn't suffer the same fate as before. It would also shield the Red Flower Valley tribe from the insults of the Sweet Lily Valley tribe on the other end of Zale Island.

In recent decades, the Red Flower Valley tribe has been weaker than its arch-rival, especially after the civil war. They've been enduring in silence. But with the sight of this powerful passing army, the chieftain saw an opportunity for alliance.

Unfortunately, the chieftain's 'handsome man strategy' didn't quite work. Asha wasn't interested in the flamboyant 'peacock.' The chieftain's son, Zanomu Dele, had to retreat and drown his sorrows in wine.

"Freshwater is scarce on the island, so these tribes rely on the Red Flower Valley tribe," the chieftain explained, emphasizing the strength and significance of his tribe. He hoped to earn the friendship of the imperial navy.

Asha's conversation with the chieftain deepened her understanding of this mysterious land untouched by Westerosi.

She was particularly interested in the Golden Heart trees native to the isles and the bows crafted from their wood.

She had witnessed a demonstration by tribal soldiers. Using a golden longbow, they effortlessly produced a draw weight of over a hundred pounds, shooting an arrow over 280 yards. The arrow had enough force to pierce through leather armor even at that distance.

In Westeros, most longbows couldn't achieve such range and power, usually falling short of 250 yards.

Asha wanted to purchase a batch of these Golden Heartwood bows from the chieftain of the Red Flower Valley tribe. While such bows might be expensive in a city like Volantis, they were relatively affordable in the Summer Isles, their place of origin.

The chieftain, eager to forge an alliance with the imperial fleet, agreed without hiking the price.

"There aren't many Golden Heart trees here in the Red Flower Valley," he said.

"They're abundant on the Golden Head Peninsula," he added, pointing to a location on the map.

The chieftain promised to send his tribesmen to the Golden Head Peninsula to harvest the Golden Heartwood and provide the imperial army with the bows.

"Chief Dele, why is it called the Golden Head Peninsula?" Asha asked, finding the name curious.

"Oh, someone once found a gold nugget the size of a human head here. It even resembled a head, hence the name Golden Head Peninsula," the chieftain explained nonchalantly. Asha paused for a moment, taking in the information.

Chapter 736: The Golden Peninsula

The Imperial Fleet temporarily docked at the mouth of Red Flower Vale for repairs. They conscripted warriors from the Red Flower Vale tribe and its surrounding vassal tribes, totaling over two hundred men, to replenish the losses incurred during their journey through the stormy seas.

Asha Greyjoy also placed orders with the Red Flower Vale tribe, exchanging goods and supplies she had acquired from various trading city-states.

The tribes of the Summer Isles were not particularly interested in gold coins. Instead, they were quite curious about foreign goods, especially Myrish carpets, hand-fired glassware, exquisite silverware, lace, wool, and dragon peppers.

This was precisely why Asha would stay for a while in each place she visited. Besides acquiring essential supplies, her fleet would also purchase local specialties to sell in the next city-state.

The fundamental principle of a trading caravan was simple: sell goods from one place in another, provided the destination did not also produce those goods, lest they end up with unsellable stock.

Asha was well aware that she couldn't solely rely on raiding for supplies. Therefore, she had planned in advance to operate in the manner of a trading caravan.

For her, this was an uncharted adventure. She had never engaged in trade before, but fortunately, she gambled correctly. The chieftains of the Summer Isles were more interested in these exotic goods than in gold coins.

The Summer Isles were rich in mineral resources but had limited interaction with the outside world. Even if ships did arrive, they brought few goods.

Moreover, most of these fleets aimed to exploit the natives, selling cheap goods at exorbitant prices in exchange for the natives' unspendable gold coins and local specialties of the Summer Isles.

However, the goods Asha brought were abundant and diverse. The chieftain of the Red Flower Vale tribe was dazzled, and the leaders of the smaller tribes affiliated with Red Flower Vale also rushed over.

In the end, the chieftain generously exchanged ten exquisite Myrish carpets, some glassware, and two jars of dragon peppers for a thousand goldenheart longbows.

With the chieftain's mobilization, the tribe's labor force, who usually spent their days hunting, fishing, and foraging, went to the Golden Cape Peninsula to cut down a large amount of goldenheart wood for the crafting of longbows.

For the chieftains of the Summer Isles, goldenheart wood was abundant, almost as if they were picking it up for free. They didn't feel at a loss at all; in fact, they felt they had struck a great bargain.

The craftsmanship and time required to make the longbows were not their concern. All they had to do was command their tribesmen to work.

Claiming that anyone who defied him would incur the wrath of the gods, the chieftain, a former shaman of the tribe, had no trouble convincing his people to work diligently.

The Red Flower Vale tribe was buzzing with activity. Thanks to the ample number of craftsmen, they managed to craft a thousand goldenheart longbows in about half a month.

...

Meanwhile, Asha Greyjoy spent her time touring the Golden Cape Peninsula with her crew.

However, the tribesmen of the Red Flower Vale, who were busy logging, noticed that these foreigners didn't seem to be touring at all. They appeared to be searching for something, carrying shovels and other tools, scouring the slopes, rocks, and riverbanks.

The tribesmen reported this to their chieftain, who thought little of it, assuming that the newcomers were merely curious about the Summer Isles and let them be.

In truth, Asha and her crew were not touring; they were searching for something specific.

At a tribal feast, Asha overheard the chieftain casually mention that the Golden Cape Peninsula was named after someone who had found a gold nugget the size of a human head here.

Hearing this, Asha became suspicious. Raised on the Iron Islands, which lacked gold mines but were rich in iron ore, she was well-versed in mineral resources.

To find such a large, unrefined piece of gold could only mean two things: either someone had deliberately placed it there, or the area was sitting atop a large gold deposit.

Although the people of the Summer Isles didn't place much value on gold coins, it was still the only circulating currency on the islands. Besides bartering, people used gold coins for transactions.

The native tribesmen of the Summer Isles knew that although gold coins couldn't be eaten or drunk, the foreigners seemed to adore them. To them, gold coins were as dear as their own parents. These coins could be traded for goods with outsiders, so they held some value on the Summer Isles.

So who would leave a gold nugget the size of a human head just lying around? Asha Greyjoy didn't buy it.

This could only mean one thing: the Golden Cape Peninsula might be sitting atop a gold mine!

This audacious speculation made Asha's heart race. What did a gold mine signify? It meant a sustainable wealth for a long period, akin to manna from heaven.

Why was the Westerlands so prosperous? Wasn't it said that Tywin Lannister's excrement was gold? Wasn't it all because of the abundant gold mines in the Westerlands?

If there really was a gold mine here, coupled with the reasons her Uncle Victarion had once given her, she could very well claim an island for herself and declare herself a queen.

Queen of the Summer Isles? Or perhaps even Empress?

Asha was genuinely tempted, but she was not a rash or irrational woman. She suppressed her excitement and, apart from her uncle, told no one else about it.

Perhaps because Victarion's injuries had not yet fully healed, he looked a bit unwell. But Asha, caught up in her excitement, failed to notice.

Subsequently, Asha led a few of her trusted men to scour the Golden Cape Peninsula for traces of a gold mine.

Though she was extremely familiar with iron ore, Asha had never dealt with gold mines. She and her Ironborn crew were clueless about how to locate one, so they cast a wide net, hoping to stumble upon it by sheer luck.

Unfortunately, it seemed Asha might have been wrong. There was no gold mine; the legend of the Golden Cape Peninsula was just that—a legend. The Red Flower Vale tribe had spent half a month crafting longbows, and they had spent half a month here, but they had found nothing, not even a shadow of a gold mine.

Just then, a piece of unsettling news arrived.

An Ironborn who had stayed behind on the ship rushed to report to Asha that her Uncle Victarion had suddenly fainted.

Chapter 737: The Curse of Valyria

"What?"

Asha Greyjoy's face changed dramatically upon hearing the soldier's report.

Though she had clashed with her Uncle Victarion over ideological differences, he remained her last living kin. How could she remain indifferent upon hearing such news?

"Quick!"

"Back to the ship, now!"

Asha could no longer afford to continue her search for gold mines. She mounted her warhorse, leading her entourage in a mad dash toward the beach where their fleet was anchored.

Victarion's condition was dire. His face was ashen, and he was lost in an unconscious stupor, frothing at the mouth.

Truth be told, Victarion had sensed something was amiss with his health quite some time ago, but he had dismissed it.

As the former captain of the Iron Fleet's indomitable flagship and the Greyjoy family's most formidable warrior, Victarion had suffered countless injuries, many far worse than this. He had always soldiered on.

But this morning, he felt an ominous premonition. His body felt feverish, as if his blood were boiling, especially around his wounds. It felt as though a hot iron was pressed against his arm.

Victarion thought perhaps the bandage was improperly applied, or the herbal poultice was faulty. He tore off the bandage, and then he fainted, collapsing onto the deck.

Fortunately, the soldiers around him noticed and promptly carried him to a bed in the cabin, summoning the accompanying physician for treatment.

Before Asha arrived, the army's physician had already performed bloodletting on Victarion. In an era lacking advanced medical technology, people generally resorted to such rudimentary methods—bloodletting, cauterization, excising necrotic flesh, and administering anesthetics or antibacterial herbs.

Thump, thump, thump—

Just then, hurried footsteps resounded outside the cabin. The door burst open, and Asha rushed in.

She saw her uncle lying on the sickbed, pale but conscious. On the other side, the army physician was placing blood-engorged leeches back into a jar with a pair of forceps.

"My lord."

The physician hastily rose to bow, but Asha paid him no mind. Her eyes were fixed intently on her uncle. Seeing that he was unharmed, she finally exhaled a sigh of relief and turned to ask, "What happened?"

In Westerosi custom, a highborn, unmarried woman like Asha should be addressed as 'Lady,' and older or married women as 'Mistress,' not 'My Lord' or 'General.' However, Asha disliked such gender-specific titles and insisted everyone adjust their language.

"Ser's wounds are healing well, showing no signs of infection. Perhaps it's just a case of not acclimating well to foreign lands," said the physician, hesitating slightly. He hailed from King's Landing.

Initially, he suspected Victarion's wounds were infected. However, upon closer examination, he found no abnormalities. Given Victarion's robust constitution, his wounds were healing remarkably well.

So, the physician resorted to bloodletting, a common practice he learned while treating the poor in King's Landing. His mentor had once told him, "When in doubt, let blood."

Surprisingly, after the physician used his leeches to draw some blood, Victarion regained consciousness. It was unclear whether this was a stroke of luck or mere coincidence.

"I'm no Ser, old man," Victarion suddenly spoke, his voice a bit muffled. He then sat up on the bed.

He examined his once-injured arm; the wound had nearly healed. He clenched his fist, feeling the muscles in his arm tense and a slight tearing pain at the site of the wound. It was as if nothing had happened.

He couldn't fathom why he had fainted, but the feverish heat that had plagued him was now gone, as if it had all been a dream. Yet, he knew it was no dream.

And what was that itching sensation on his back?

"Uncle," Asha, noticing that Victarion had sat up immediately upon waking, furrowed her brows.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Fine," Victarion answered succinctly, nodding. At that moment, his hand seemed to touch something, and he paused.

His long black hair, tinged with streaks of gray, framed his weather-beaten face. For a rare moment, Victarion's expression shifted ever so slightly, and even his breathing seemed to hitch, as if he had realized something.

"What's wrong?" Asha, keenly noticing her uncle's odd behavior, quickly inquired.

"Asha, have everyone else leave," Victarion's face tightened, his brows knitted into a knot. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "I need to speak with you privately."

Upon hearing his words, everyone in the room exchanged glances before looking at Asha. Receiving her nod of approval, all but she and Victarion exited, leaving the uncle and niece alone in the cabin.

"What happened, Uncle?" The raven-haired woman couldn't wait to ask.

Victarion didn't rush to answer. Instead, he turned away and removed his shirt, revealing his muscular back.

At first, Asha couldn't comprehend what her uncle was doing. However, as soon as she saw what was on Victarion's back, her face changed dramatically.

"What is this?" Asha Greyjoy was visibly shocked, her face etched with disbelief.

For there, on Victarion's back, was a small patch of scales, identical to those she had seen on the creature that had attacked her.

"Why is this happening?"

"Could it be..." Asha's face paled even more as she hurriedly spoke. She recalled that Victarion had been bitten by the creature. Could he have been infected then?

She had never imagined that such a creature could be the result of some viral mutation. Was this a variant of Greyscale?

But Asha immediately dismissed that thought. She had been in close contact with the creature, and it was fundamentally different from the Stone Men.

It was as if... as if it were some sort of curse.

Chapter 738: The Lizard Head Outpost

"How should we proceed?"

"Will you turn into that monster too, Uncle?"

Asha Greyjoy saw the fish scales growing on Victarion's back. Although it was just a small patch, it was almost certain that if no measures were taken, he would eventually transform into that monstrous form.

Asha's words rendered Victarion silent. He had thought of this possibility the moment he felt the itch on his back and touched the scales. He was somewhat in denial, but his niece's words shattered his illusions.

Will I become such a creature?

Victarion remembered the night when the half-man, half-fish creature lunged at him. He clenched his fist, closed his eyes, and spoke in a raspy voice.

"No, I won't."

"If that day ever comes, I'll choose to leave or end it myself."

While Victarion didn't have the honor of Eddard Stark or Jon Connington, he had his own principles.

On the battlefield, he was a calm commander and a brave warrior. Off the battlefield, he often respected his enemies.

If he ever turned into such a monster, Victarion's preferred way out would be to jump into the sea and let the Drowned God take him. However, based on what he knew about the creature, this might not be a feasible solution.

"It's slowly consuming and changing my body."

As Victarion spoke, he saw the sorrow on Asha's face, which made him frown.

"Don't mourn for me yet!"

"I won't die that easily..."

Victarion clenched his fist. Apart from fainting recently, he felt fine.

"The great Drowned God will protect me. I can still resist this feeling."

The change wasn't too intense, and Victarion believed he could resist it for a while. Maybe he could find a cure and survive. If not, the worst outcome would be death.

As a warrior, he was always prepared to die in battle. He never thought he would succumb to an unknown virus or curse.

Asha, with her black hair, calmed down after hearing her uncle's words. The creature that attacked them was once human? Thinking of its ability to speak, Asha shivered. She couldn't bear the thought of losing one of the few trustworthy relatives she had, nor could she accept that Victarion might end up like that creature.

Asha wanted to ask if the red-robed priests might have a cure since they knew how to deal with the creatures. But recalling how they burned the creature alive, she hesitated. Victarion thought of the same scene, shook his head, and said in a low voice,

"If I fall into their hands, I might share the same fate."

"I don't want to be burned alive like that creature. It's not a death befitting an Ironborn."

The red-robed priests were extreme in their beliefs. In their eyes, the world was black and white. They would do anything to achieve their goals, even if it meant breaking the law or moral codes. Everything was justified in the name of their god.

Victarion, cursed as he was, might be burned without a second thought. He wasn't ready to walk into their trap.

"I still have a few years left. Let's wait and see."

Victarion added in a low voice.

Asha Greyjoy didn't find any gold mines on the Golden Peninsula, but she didn't give up. She was sure she was right.

So, the commander of the Imperial Fleet ordered the establishment of a small outpost on the Lizard Head islands, north of the Golden Peninsula. They left 200 soldiers and ships.

The island of Zhaler was not far from the island of Nas. If there were no suitable islands near Nas for the army to station, they might come back.

Zhaler Island lacked freshwater resources, relying mainly on the Red Flower Valley and Sweet Lily Valley rivers. The Golden Peninsula had no tribes because of the lack of freshwater.

However, this wasn't a big issue. Many in the Imperial Fleet, who once followed King Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands, knew how to find groundwater by digging wells.

With the help of experienced Ironborn, they found suitable places to dig wells and extracted groundwater. Although not abundant, it was enough for the 200 people in the temporary outpost.

The Imperial Fleet set up a temporary outpost on the Lizard Head islands, building walls, wooden houses, and tents. They raised the banner of the Valyrian Empire's three-headed dragon, declaring temporary sovereignty. Any outsiders landing on the island would face retaliation from the Imperial soldiers.

The Lizard Head islands, although not on Zhaler Island, were very close to the Golden Peninsula and could be seen from the coast.

The only presence on the islands was the Imperial Fleet's temporary outpost.

The chief of the Red Flower Valley tribe was initially concerned about the outsiders' intentions. But when he learned they only left 200 people on the Lizard Head islands, he relaxed.

After all, 200 people weren't a threat. He also hoped to use the name of the Imperial Fleet to deter his enemies in the Sweet Lily Valley tribe, who had the upper hand.

So, the chief of the Red Flower Valley tribe chose to turn a blind eye to the Imperial Fleet's encampment.

A few days later, a thousand golden heartwood bows were delivered in exchange for some supplies from the fleet. Asha left her uncle Victarion as the commander of the Lizard Head outpost, while she led the army to Nas Island.

Chapter 739: The Brotherhood of Bones

"Romy,"

"When do you think we'll be able to go home?"

A dozen ships, each flying a variety of flags, were docked at the harbor of a quaint yet eerily deserted town. The streets were empty, even in broad daylight. The azure sea, the calm waters, the soft, white sandy beaches, and the endless forests in the distance painted a picture of tranquility.

On a two-masted warship flying a flag adorned with a skull, a pirate with golden hair and a somewhat handsome face sat at the bow, clutching his scimitar. He stared into the distant calm sea and finally spoke.

"How should I know?"

On the other side, sitting opposite him was a one-eyed pirate named Romy, swigging from a jug of rum, clearly inebriated. He spoke with a tone of annoyance.

"Jack, you're not thinking about that wench again, are you? I've told you, Lana is Harlo's personal property! Keep sneaking around her, and Harlo will cut off your manhood!"

Golden-haired Jack and One-eyed Romy were members of the Brotherhood of Bones, a notorious band of pirates that roamed the Summer Sea. Their most iconic symbol was a flag with a black background and a skull. Merchants sailing the Summer Sea would lose all courage at the sight of this flag.

The infamous Brotherhood of Bones had their base on Fly Island, part of the Snake Lizard Archipelago not far from Naath. The archipelago was a haven for pirates, hosting dozens of pirate crews both large and small.

The Harlo that One-eyed Romy mentioned was the current leader of the Brotherhood of Bones, known as "Ferocious Harlo." He was a towering man, standing at seven feet, with red hair and a menacing face. Rumor had it that he could eat men alive, making him a figure of dread wherever he went.

However, as seasoned members of the Brotherhood, both Jack and Romy knew that Harlo didn't actually eat people, especially not raw. His fearsome reputation was merely a tactic to intimidate their enemies.

One-eyed Romy had just mentioned a girl named Lana. She was a hostage captured by the Brotherhood of Bones during one of their raids on merchant ships. With her fair skin, golden locks, and sweet visage, she had become the favored concubine of Harlo, the pirate leader, even bearing him a son.

What "Ferocious Harlo" didn't know was that Lana had been having affairs with several of his most trusted men, Jack being just one of them. Romy knew of at least three others, but sadly, Harlo remained oblivious.

Still, Romy cautioned his good friend and fellow pirate to steer clear of Lana. He felt it was only a matter of time before the secret affairs came to light. And while Harlo might not eat men, the punishment for betrayal—and for cuckolding him—might be even worse than being devoured alive.

"I'm not talking about returning to Fly Island," said Golden-haired Jack, cutting off his friend mid-sentence without even turning his head.

One-eyed Romy, wearing an eyepatch, paused for a moment, not catching on immediately.

"I mean going home," Jack clarified.

"Back to Westeros."

As it turned out, both Jack and Romy hailed from Westeros. Each had led a different life before fate brought them to the distant Snake Lizard Archipelago, where they joined the ranks of the pirates.

Jack was a distant relative of the Lannister family, residing in Lannisport. His signature golden hair was a testament to his lineage. His father was a prosperous cheese merchant in Lannisport, and the family was well-off. They had even donated a ship for the wildfire explosion on the Green Fork during the war against the White Walkers.

However, after humanity's war against the White Walkers ended, civil war erupted. Their liege lord, Tywin Lannister, was defeated and retreated to the Westerlands. The Second Conquest War broke out, with Prince Oberyn Martell leading a Targaryen army from the south, winning battle after battle. Another Targaryen princess rode her dragon, setting fires across the skies of the Westerlands, causing widespread panic.

Then came the betrayal by Euron Greyjoy, leading to the fall of Lannisport. Prince Oberyn's forces stormed in, and that's when the nightmare began.

Prince Oberyn Martell had ordered a massacre of the Lannister family members, even going so far as to arrest or kill anyone with golden hair. Jack's parents were slain, and it was then that he fled his homeland by sea.

As for One-eyed Romy, he hailed from the Iron Islands, born Romy Pyke, the bastard son of a House Merlyn. His father was the Count of Pebble Array, a balding, portly man. Romy had left his homeland even before Jack, fleeing by boat when the White Walkers invaded Great Wyk Island.

At that time, the island was in utter chaos, filled with the walking dead. His father, Medryd Merlyn, had been decent enough to give Romy a small boat to escape. Whether the Count of Pebble Array himself had managed to flee remained unknown.

Both men came from the same country, albeit different regions. In this distant land, they were among the few kinsmen they had, eventually becoming close brothers.

"Damn you, Jack!" One-eyed Romy Pyke finally broke his silence after hearing Jack's sudden proclamation. Holding a jug of ale, he finally managed to utter a sentence, his emotions running high.

"Don't you know we can't go back home?"

Both had joined the Brotherhood of Bones for various reasons, but while joining was easy, leaving was not. In a pirate crew like this, once you're in, the only way out is death.

If you tried to sneak away on an island or in a port, you'd be hunted down. Death would be a relief at that point.

As the two young pirates sat at the bow of the ship, chatting,

Suddenly, the sound of a horn echoed from the distant sea.

"Woo—"

The horn's melancholy tone reverberated across the silent ocean.

Both men quickly turned their heads and saw a fleet flying the banners of the Targaryen's three-headed dragon and the Greyjoy's golden kraken.

They had filled the sea, and were now sailing toward them in full force.

Chapter 740: The Pirate King

"What in the Seven Hells..."

Romy Pyke and Jack, the two pirates who were engrossed in conversation at the bow of the ship, stared in disbelief at the approaching fleet. They were frozen in place, unable to trust their own eyes.

The massive fleet was flying two types of banners. The largest was the Targaryen's three-headed dragon, and slightly smaller was the Greyjoy's golden kraken.

For those near the Essos continent, these banners might be somewhat unfamiliar, but for Jack and Romy, who hailed from Westeros, they couldn't be more recognizable.

Even One-eyed Romy Pyke accidentally spilled his jug of ale all over his trousers, sending a shiver down his spine. Snapping back to reality, he and Jack exchanged glances, each seeing the emotion in the other's eyes.

"Seven Hells!"

"By the Drowned God!"

Annoyed, One-eyed Romy Pyke glanced at his wet crotch, kicked the jug away, and abruptly stood up, unsheathing the curved blade at his waist.

On the other side, the handsome, blond pirate reacted just as quickly. He drew his own blade and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Enemy attack!"

"Enemy attack!"

But there was no need for their warning. The entire harbor, filled with a dozen pirate ships, had already descended into chaos. For some reason, these pirates had all stayed in their cabins, avoiding the small town ashore.

Meanwhile, on the calm sea, the fleet was cutting through the waves, rapidly approaching.

Dressed in scale armor and draped in a black cloak, the Imperial Fleet's Commander-in-Chief, Asha Greyjoy, stood atop a barrel at the bow of the flagship, the Viserion. She lifted her spyglass, observing the distant pirates.

"Tom Cold, give them a greeting!"

"Tell these Summer Sea minions that the true Pirate King has arrived!"

Asha Greyjoy's voice was icy as she lowered her Myrish eye-glass and commanded, "Destroy them!"

"Aye, Princess!"

Tom Cold, the captain of the Iron Fleet's ship Mourner, heard Asha Greyjoy's words. His face twisted into a savage grin as he eagerly responded.

This is the daughter of King Balon, the true Princess of the Iron Islands! Theon and Asha are the rightful heirs, not some Euron or others who could ever sit on the Seastone Chair. And he'd heard that Euron had even managed to lose the chair.

"Give them a lesson they'll never forget!"

"Show them who the true ancestors of piracy are!"

"Ready the trebuchets!"

"Fire!"

Tom Cold, now the first mate of the Viserion, sneered as he gave the orders. He had once been the captain of the Mourner in the Iron Fleet, a veteran of many battles, including the Ironborn Rebellion years ago and the two sackings of Lannisport. He had later fled the Iron Islands with Asha during the White Walker invasion and was now one of her most trusted confidants.

At his command, the Imperial Fleet, perfectly aligned on the sea, let out a unified roar.

Boom, boom, boom—

Flaming boulders soared into the sky, then whistled down toward the harbor and the pirate ships.

And how could the pirate ships in the harbor react in time?

By the time they realized the gravity of the situation and hurriedly tried to weigh anchor and sail out, it was already too late. Ships of such massive size couldn't possibly maneuver quickly.

Moreover, these pirates had never considered the possibility of a sudden attack from behind. The usually submissive and timid Naathi had actually sought external help.

So, the pirate ships were trapped in the harbor, unable to escape. They were sitting ducks, easy targets for the raining fireballs that lit up the despair on their faces. In an instant, the entire battlefield was transformed into a sea of fire.

Boom, boom, boom—

The trebuchets launched their flaming boulders, which crashed into the pirate ships. Some tore through the decks, others blasted gaping holes in the sides. The ships were ablaze, and the pirates let out agonized screams amidst the inferno.

Others took down the towering masts on the decks, crashing them into the town below, causing plumes of smoke to rise.

The once tranquil bay was instantly transformed into a hellscape. Flames roared everywhere, thick black smoke billowed into the sky, and the pirates' screams of agony could be heard from afar.

"Why has the Iron Throne's fleet come here?!"

"How should I know?"

Onboard the ship of the Brotherhood of Bones, 'One-Eye' Romy and 'Blond' Jack narrowly escaped the first wave of falling boulders.

But their situation was far from improved. Fire was everywhere, and their ship was tilting dangerously, sinking was only a matter of time.

The two exchanged glances, gritted their teeth, and plunged into the sea.

Naath is a blessed island located off the northwest coast of the Sothoryos continent, surrounded by the Summer Sea.

Its neighboring islands are few, and it boasts a calm, beautiful sea, mostly as smooth as a mirror. The Naathi are a gentle people, so gentle that they would rather retreat into the island's deep forests than take up arms against invaders.

Originally, during the height of the Ghiscari Empire, a ship from Ghis had arrived at Naath, introducing its people to the outside world.

Before slavers began frequenting Naath, the islanders had been part of long-distance trade between Essos and Westeros, amassing great wealth.

Due to the island's environment favoring insect growth, the Naathi became major exporters of silk. They also exported exquisite handicrafts and spiced wines. Fine Naathi silk could once be found from the Seven Kingdoms to the Free Cities.

Unfortunately, since the Doom of Valyria, the Naathi lost the protection of their suzerain. Their wealth attracted the wrong kind of attention, and slavers began to frequent the waters around Naath.

So, the Naathi had no choice but to abandon their beautiful coasts and move inland, into the forests. Over the past four centuries, Naath's export trade had collapsed, its prosperity vanished, and Naathi silk became a rare sight.

This was what the local chieftains told Asha Greyjoy when she led her fleet to Naath.

The Imperial Fleet's arrival at Naath was like a godsend, effortlessly destroying a large number of pirate ships.

Chapter 741: Difficult Choices

The Imperial fleet descended, obliterating the pirate and slaver ships, liberating this tranquil isle from the clutches of darkness.

The Naathi, who lived on the island and cherished peace, were initially terrified by the sudden naval battle that erupted on the sea. Amidst the chaos of war and the haze of gunpowder, they lacked even the courage to resist the invasion, having never witnessed such a spectacle. However, when Milaz, the Naathi envoy aboard the Imperial fleet, disembarked and clarified the situation to the tribe, the people hiding in the dense forests finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The political landscape of Naath was similar to that of the Summer Isles. There was no unified nation, but the difference lay in the fact that the tribes of the Summer Isles were constantly at war, lacking a 'Conqueror' like Aegon to unify them. The Naathi, on the other hand, worshipped the God of Harmony and advocated for peace, thus never forming a unified nation. They lived in tribes that were friendly neighbors, divided by ethnicity.

Therefore, the leaders of the Naathi tribes were called 'Elders' rather than 'Chieftains' like in the Summer Isles. Although the terms were similar, their essence was worlds apart. Naathi Elders were revered figures who served their people, rather than authoritarian rulers demanding service.

Moreover, Naath had been a part of the global trade system since the Dawn Age, making it far more civilized than the Summer Isles, despite its smaller size.

Faced with adversity, they had actively sent envoys for help. And their efforts had paid off; the peace-loving Naathi had finally found the reinforcements they needed to protect themselves.

"Thank the Emperor, thank the governor for saving the fate of Naath," said the Elder who had been chosen to greet the Imperial fleet docked at the harbor after much deliberation by the Naathi tribe.

He was an elderly man who looked quite robust. His skin had a reddish-brown hue, unlike the darker complexion of the Summer Islanders.

After the war, the sea was littered with the wreckage of ships and the bodies of pirates.

Milaz, the Naathi envoy, was not very familiar with the new Imperial system. In his understanding, the person who was granted a territory was called a 'governor.' This led to a beautiful misunderstanding, as the Naathi considered Asha Greyjoy to be a governor. Asha felt a slight stir at this misunderstanding but did not correct it.

After all, she was thousands of miles away from King's Landing, and no one was there to question her. She could call herself the Hand of the Emperor if she wanted.

Asha later learned why the pirates had hidden in their ships and not disembarked. It turned out that Naath was home to a terrifying virus known as 'Butterfly Fever.'

This virus only affected non-natives, which was why the Naathi, a peaceful people who were even unwilling to take up arms, had not been wiped out. Butterfly Fever had protected them, repelling invaders including the Ghiscari Empire, Valyrian colonists, Volantene adventurers, and pirates.

However, over time, the pirates and slavers found a weakness in the virus. Butterfly Fever was so named because butterflies were the carriers of the virus, and they only had to land at night when the butterflies were resting to avoid infection.

"So that's how it is," Asha Greyjoy mused as she met with the Naathi Elder aboard her ship, understanding why Milaz had opposed the Imperial soldiers' landing.

Asha Greyjoy, leading her fleet from afar, still needed to find a place for her men to stay. Excluding the 300 soldiers left in the Summer Isles, her fleet now numbered just under two thousand.

During their stay in the Summer Isles, they had recruited some local warriors, integrating them into their ranks.

However, with so many men unable to set foot on Naath, they couldn't possibly remain adrift at sea indefinitely.

After consulting with the venerable Naathi Elder, she learned that there were no other islands surrounding Naath.

This beautiful, isolated island had been floating alone in the sea for a long time, cut off from the world until the Ghiscari Empire first discovered them.

"What should we do?"

After bidding farewell to the Naathi Elder, Asha Greyjoy, commander of the Imperial fleet, stood in the command room of the Viserion, her brow furrowed as she studied the map, deep in thought.

"Should we attack the Basilisk Isles, or fall back to the Summer Isles?"

Both options represented different directions and attitudes—one extremely aggressive, the other more cautious.

Retreating to the Summer Isles was undoubtedly the safer option. If they did so, the pirates lurking in the Basilisk Isles would likely seek revenge and follow them. If not, it would be a mutual step back—a safe and error-free choice.

On the other hand, a direct assault on the Basilisk Isles would be a high-risk, high-reward strategy. The pirates around Naath had been wiped out in a recent naval battle, leaving their main base in the Basilisk Isles completely unguarded against the Imperial fleet.

If the Imperial Fleet could indeed annihilate the pirates entrenched in the Basilisk Isles in this single battle, they would secure a foundation for dominating the Summer Sea. In the future, they might even rise to become the undisputed rulers of these waters.

"What should we do?"

The young Ironborn commander, clad in scale armor, stared intently at the map before her. For the first time, she felt the weight of holding the lives of thousands in her hands.

"My lady?"

All the commanders and captains in the fleet turned their eyes toward her. Though Asha's face remained stoic, beads of sweat had formed in her palms.

For it was only now that she truly understood the words Viserys had told her before she left.

"When you reach the edge of the world, every decision you make must be well-considered."

"Asha."

"Because beyond your reputation, you have no other safety nets."

"I believe you will return safely."

Meanwhile, the man who had spoken these words to Asha was at that moment riding through the beautiful Riverlands, admiring the sunset.

"Viserys."

The caravan moved slowly in the distance. The Dragon Princess, Rhaenys Targaryen, saw him standing alone on a hill and spurred her horse to catch up with him.

Chapter 742: Pregnant Again

Viserys stood atop a hill, his hands clad in deer-leather gloves crossed over the saddle, as he gazed at the breathtaking sunset in the distance.

He was adorned in a fine silver velvet coat, dark fitted riding breeches, and his silver-gold hair cascaded freely over his shoulders. Atop his head sat a crown of Valyrian steel, at the center of which was a red gemstone capable of emitting a warm magical glow. He looked every bit the elegant prince who had stepped out of a mythic tale.

"Viserys!"

Just then, a young woman's voice echoed from behind him. The sound of hooves lightly tapping and jingling harness bells followed. Rhaenys, riding a snow-white warhorse, spurred her mount to catch up, coming to stand beside Viserys.

"What are you looking at?"

Rhaenys reined in her horse and followed Viserys' gaze. Her breath caught for a moment.

Before them lay a scene so stunning it took one's breath away.

Beyond the hill stretched an endless open plain. The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the earth, illuminating neatly arranged fields brimming with golden crops. Industrious farmers toiled in the fields, undeterred by the hard work.

It was a picture of a sunset, but also a scene of abundant harvest. Rhaenys, who had just been following the caravan at the foot of the hill, had never imagined that such a beautiful landscape lay on the other side.

"This view."

"It's beautiful."

Rhaenys opened her mouth, a plethora of eloquent words coming to mind, but in the end, she settled for the simplest one.

Her brown-haired gaze then shifted back to Viserys, only to find his face devoid of much emotion. Instead, he looked solemn, even a bit serious.

The red hues of the setting sun cast a glow on his profile, leaving only the depths of his eyes in shadow. It wasn't until the silver-haired young man snapped back to reality that he slightly lifted his head, revealing a pair of captivating, pale purple eyes.

"Mm."

"Indeed, it's beautiful."

Viserys nodded slightly, a fleeting smile crossing his face. This was a realm he had built with his own hands; naturally, he relished such a vista. He then dismounted, holding the reins in his hand.

Rhaenys also dismounted, leaping down from her horse and grasping the reins.

"What's the matter?"

She had just noticed the solemnity on Viserys' face, as if he were deep in thought. She knew that the brief smile he had shown was merely to comfort her. A slight flutter in Rhaenys' heart prompted her to ask further.

"Arianne is pregnant again. Aren't you pleased?"

...

Recently, the people of King's Landing had been blessed with not just one but multiple pieces of good news.

The ruling lord of Tyrosh had submitted official documents of fealty to the Valyrian Empire, causing quite a stir among the Tyroshi populace. However, with Lys and Myr having already publicly declared their allegiance to the new empire, the people of Tyrosh were somewhat prepared and not entirely caught off guard.

The unrest and protests against imperial hegemony in Tyrosh had no impact on King's Landing. The Tyroshi lord had to swallow his pride; if he wished to maintain his position without being ousted or killed, he had to quell the chaos.

Lys, Myr, Tyrosh—these three Free Cities had consecutively submitted, and the Three Daughters were officially incorporated into the empire's territory.

The Three Daughters region connected to Pentos and Andalos. The western coast of the eastern continent was now almost entirely dominated by the banner of the three-headed dragon, save for Braavos.

This was naturally a momentous occasion. The people had transitioned from being subjects of the Seven Kingdoms to citizens of the Valyrian Empire. As the empire continued to expand its borders, its citizens could now hold their heads high when dealing with foreign merchants, exuding confidence and even arrogance.

A Braavosi silk merchant and a minor noble from King's Landing had a public altercation. The noble brazenly proclaimed in the streets that Braavos was but a mere ant beneath the empire's boot.

"Who knows, perhaps one day Braavos will be swallowed whole by the New Empire, reducing them to mere slaves of a conquered nation," he added.

The enemies of the empire had long lost their foothold in Westeros. After the two initial conquest wars, the defeated nobles who had their lands confiscated fled to the eastern continent, even contemplating a counter-attack.

However, the Iron Throne had not relented, continuously encroaching upon their territories. They could only flee further east, but death would catch up to them sooner or later.

Take, for example, the tale of Humphrey Hightower, once of the oldtown Hightowers. In a desperate bid for the emperor's forgiveness and a return to the empire, he offered up Lys, executing all its governors. This story had spread like wildfire through the streets.

The minor noble's confrontation with the Braavosi merchant drew a crowd of onlookers. His words were met with cheers and applause, while the Braavosi merchant could only stand there, his face ashen, speechless, before he finally slunk away.

This incident was a testament to the faith and grand vision that the people of King's Landing had in the empire. They held great expectations for the future, and the Braavosi merchant's reaction was a reflection of the concerns that all Braavosi shared.

The empire's growth had now become an insurmountable obstacle for the Iron Bank of Braavos. The New Empire loomed like a mountain over the Braavosi, especially after the annexation of the Three Daughters, intensifying their fears.

But that was of no concern to the people of King's Landing. They celebrated the empire's ever-expanding borders, its fame spreading across the known world, its power rising like the midday sun.

Following the submission of the Three Daughters, another piece of joyous news quickly spread: Queen Arianne Nymeros Martell was pregnant again.

This news was even more significant than the submission of the Three Daughters.

Because if you were to ask anyone what the only existing risk to the flourishing empire was, everyone would likely give the same answer: the current emperor had yet to produce a son.

Although, according to Dornish customs, Princess Diana Targaryen was equally eligible to inherit the Valyrian Empire's throne.

But there was an unavoidable issue: this was King's Landing, the heart of the empire, not Dorne.

Chapter 743: Mass Relocation

Even if Prince Daolong is currently under a form of house arrest in King's Landing, he lacks the power to ensure his granddaughter's ascension to the throne.

After all, Viserys is still young; Daolong knows he won't outlive him.

The only silver lining in this precarious situation is the youth of Emperor Viserys. As long as he lives, the vast empire will not crumble.

But imagine if the founding Emperor of the Valyrian Empire were growing old, without a male heir to succeed him, and with two sisters capable of dragon-riding.

The empire would likely be on the brink of chaos, awaiting Viserys' sudden death to plunge into an endless civil war, leading to the downfall of this great emerging empire.

Therefore, the most straightforward solution to this looming crisis is for Viserys to father a son. While a princess might have a claim, the path is fraught with difficulties. A male heir, however, would make the succession smooth and deny any opportunities to those with ulterior motives.

Those who wish for the betterment of the empire pray for Emperor Viserys to have a son soon.

On the other hand, those who resent the rise of the Valyrian Empire curse day and night.

They hope the gods will punish Viserys, wishing that he never has a son, so that the empire he built crumbles after his death, allowing them to reclaim their lands and power.

While everyone places great importance on the heir to the empire, Viserys himself is quite indifferent.

He doesn't care whether he has a son now or not. Unlike many kings of the past, he doesn't resort to having multiple mistresses in the hope that one might bear him a son.

However, the news of Queen Arianne Martell's second pregnancy has brought joy to King's Landing. Coupled with the submission of Dorne and the continuous expansion of the empire, it's a time of triple happiness.

Yet, at this very moment, Viserys suddenly announces during a royal assembly in the Throne Room that the imperial family will be collectively leaving King's Landing for a vacation in Highgarden, known as the 'Imperial Backyard.'

Highgarden, a beautiful garden city, became an imperial property after the Second Conquest. It has been a traditional vacation spot for emperors, so the nobles at the assembly think nothing of it, considering it a routine royal practice.

However, the number of people going this time is unusually large, drawing more than a few eyes.

This vacation has nearly emptied the Red Keep, including the newly pregnant Queen Arianne Martell, Crown Princess Rhaenys, Princess Daenerys, Princess Diana Targaryen, and so on.

In addition, the handmaidens, servants, royal stewards, Kingsguard, and a portion of the Unsullied are accompanying them, forming a massive caravan of over a thousand people heading to Highgarden.

Anyone can see that the Emperor's sudden decree is out of the ordinary. Some take it lightly, while others are exceedingly cautious.

They believe that a man like Emperor Viserys wouldn't make any move without reason. They hope to find some clues to discern his true intentions.

Some have even boldly speculated that Viserys thinks the population burden in King's Landing is too heavy. Therefore, he plans to move the capital to Highgarden to relieve the pressure on King's Landing, and the royal family's mass relocation is just a preliminary plan.

Their analysis is logical and convincing, but unfortunately, Viserys's thoughts are not as they have guessed. He has other reasons.

Among those attempting to fathom the Emperor's will, there are some clever individuals.

For instance, it's said that Petyr Baelish, the Governor of the Vale, moved a large sum of assets to Pentos across the Narrow Sea shortly after the Emperor announced the royal family's vacation to Highgarden. He also sent an army northward, leaving King's Landing for the North.

"No."

"Of course, that's not the reason."

Viserys, holding the reins, slightly turned his head to look at Rhaenys upon hearing her words, then shook his head in denial.

His eldest daughter, Diana, has already passed her second name day. The fact that Arianne could be pregnant again is good news for both Viserys personally and the royal family, even the entire empire. Viserys is naturally delighted.

However, what concerns him is something else, and perhaps it's this very reason that has made him resolute in having the royal family temporarily relocate from the Red Keep to Highgarden.

"Hmm?"

"Then what is the reason?"

Rhaenys, too, held her reins, her eyes filled with curiosity as she looked at the stoic Viserys.

"My eyes can see things that ordinary people cannot."

Viserys didn't hide anything from Rhaenys, who could be counted among the people he trusted the most.

Many had seen their fates altered due to Viserys's presence, and the first among them was the young woman standing before him, now grown tall and elegant. She tilted her head slightly, her expression a touch endearing, as she waited for Viserys to continue.

"The enemy in the North has grown stronger."

"What I fear is the next invasion of the White Walkers, which we may not be able to withstand."

Viserys was candid. He could see that the darkness in the North had become purer, more terrifying.

Their own strength was increasing; the five young dragons had gradually grown and gained combat capabilities. But the White Walkers were not idle either, amassing some unknown scheme. Even Viserys, with his fragmented prophetic abilities, could not see it; every attempt at foresight yielded only darkness, nothing more.

At this time, Arianne was pregnant again, and Viserys's concerns multiplied. He didn't know what the future held, which is why he decided to move the royal family to Highgarden.

"Is that so?"

Rhaenys was slightly taken aback upon hearing Viserys's words. The entire realm was prospering, and she saw no imminent threats.

She even thought that if the White Walkers were to come again, they would not cause the same level of destruction as before—perhaps they would be defeated right at the Wall.

But little did she know that while humanity was progressing, the White Walkers were not falling behind. And with the resurgence of magic, all manner of demons and spirits were slowly awakening, while humans had long forgotten about magic.

Chapter 744: The Illusory Dawn

Viserys's words left Rhaenys stunned. She had thought the White Walkers were no longer a threat, but Viserys saw it differently.

He possessed eyes that were nearly god-like, peering into a future shrouded in darkness. Though he saw nothing, it was this very absence that filled him with dread.

So much so that he couldn't help but move his wife and children to the rear, fearing some unforeseen calamity.

"What can be done?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Rhaenys couldn't help but ask after hearing Viserys's words.

She had always wanted to ease the burden on Viserys's shoulders, to be of some assistance to him.

Viserys wasn't much older than Rhaenys, but due to his experiences spanning two lifetimes, he was far more mature. While Rhaenys was still in her playful years, she often saw the light in Viserys's chamber burning late into the night.

He had to shoulder the responsibilities of family, duty, and vengeance from the age of eight. Standing at the forefront in a world full of ravenous wolves, every gaze directed at him was filled with naked greed. Everyone saw him as a delectable morsel, ready to devour him whole.

Yet Viserys navigated through these treacherous waters, gradually growing stronger while leading his family and fulfilling his mission of vengeance. Rhaenys and Daenerys had always been shielded by him, never once feeling the touch of danger.

From that time on, Rhaenys had wanted to share some of his burdens. Now, the once-fragile girl had grown up. She was a Dragonrider, capable of donning armor and riding dragons into battle, holding her own.

The young man with silver hair, crowned in Valyrian steel, remained silent upon hearing her words. Rhaenys looked at his figure, so close yet so far, and suddenly spoke.

"Viserys, no matter what, I will always be by your side."

Viserys paused for a moment upon hearing her words, then lifted his head to meet her unwavering gaze. Her eyes were filled with resolve, staring intently back at him.

Once, Rhaenys could hardly meet his eyes, but now her gaze was steadfast.

"We are family!"

With that, she let go of the reins and moved beside Viserys, opening her arms to embrace him gently, as if they had practiced this a thousand times before.

Viserys's body stiffened for a moment but then relaxed, exhaling softly as if releasing some inner restraint.

He did not resist Rhaenys's embrace. Instead, he opened his arms and held her tightly in return.

Viserys tightened his embrace, as if he wished to meld Rhaenys into his very being, causing her to let out a soft whimper.

"Yes," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, echoing her earlier words, "We are family."

Rhaenys had felt a slight discomfort from the strength of Viserys's arms, but upon hearing his words, her lips twitched upwards in a place he couldn't see. She tried to maintain her composure but ultimately couldn't help but burst into a smile.

Her arms around Viserys tightened, pulling him even closer.

"No matter what difficulties the future holds, we'll face them together," she assured him. "I will always be by your side, even if we must fight to the last moment."

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Rhaenys closed her eyes. Viserys lowered his head and gently kissed her soft lips. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he felt her body tremble slightly before she tightened her embrace even more.

On the grassy knoll, the young couple held each other, their warhorses also coming together, their large eyes meeting before nuzzling each other affectionately.

"Daenerys," a voice called from the royal caravan below the hill, where the Unsullied were escorting on both sides, their spears and shields at the ready, their faces stern. "Everyone says you'll eventually marry His Grace. Is it true?"

Inside a carriage draped in luxurious fabrics, Missandei and Daenerys, two inseparable friends, were whispering to each other. The girl from Naath seemed to have thought of something and curiously took the initiative to ask.

"Absolutely not!" Daenerys retorted, her silver hair shimmering. Among friends, there were no taboos, and Missandei was also somewhat curious. Her question, however, made Daenerys blush slightly.

In Westeros, girls of their age were no longer naive. Many, like Daenerys, were already married soon after their first menstruation, and some even had children a few years later.

"Impossible!"

"They're all talking nonsense!" Daenerys's face flushed a shade of crimson. She had heard the old maids in the Red Keep whisper about her purer lineage, her silver hair and purple eyes making her more suitable than the princess. Since then, she had harbored a faint hope. After all, what young girl hasn't fantasized about her wedding day? Yet Daenerys's face remained flushed as she stubbornly retorted.

Suddenly, she remembered something. The three girls had planned to play a card game, and Rhaenys was nowhere to be found. "Where has Rhaenys gone?" Her cheeks still flushed, Daenerys found an excuse to leave the carriage. "Missandei, wait here. I'll go find her."

"Eh?" Before Missandei could react, Daenerys had already leapt from the carriage. Mounting her pony, she set off to find Rhaenys. As a Targaryen princess, she didn't find riding a horse any more challenging than riding a dragon.

However, as Daenerys rode her pony up the hill, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, she saw a scene in the distance that made her pull on the reins and pause.

Meanwhile, at the ends of the world, one in the south and one in the north. Snowflakes filled the sky, and the ground and heavens were blanketed in white. Benjen Stark had learned from Lyanna that this uncharted land was called the White Wastes. It connected to the Lands of Always Winter in Westeros, located north of the Shivering Sea. It was the end of all maps, a place where no one could reach the end, a vast expanse of desolation and silence.

An endless army of the dead marched in silence. Benjen and Lyanna were among them. Above, an ice dragon roared, shaking the entire icy plain before flying off into the distance.

On the other side, in the unbearably hot Summer Sea, an imperial fleet bearing the banners of three fire-breathing dragons and the golden kraken of House Greyjoy sailed eastward. Asha Greyjoy, the fleet's commander, stood at a vantage point on the ship, looking through a Myrish lens at the horizon. Her breath was slightly hurried, and her heart surged with emotion.

Chapter 745: The Seventh Year of the New Calendar

Year 299 of the Aegon Calendar, the seventh year of the New Calendar.

Time flies like a white steed flashing past a crack in the wall. Four years have passed in the blink of an eye. King's Landing, the grand city that has stood for nearly three centuries, is as bustling as ever, even more so than four years ago, and has undergone many changes.

A two-masted warship, flying the banners of the three-headed dragon and the golden kraken of House Greyjoy, slowly sails into Blackwater Bay.

Thanks to the rising political and economic status of King's Landing, the imperial power center has been established here. With a highly centralized government, the city's development has been fast-tracked. Consequently, the port of Blackwater Bay, the largest in King's Landing, has revealed its limitations in handling capacity. After several large-scale expansions in recent years, it has become the most important trade and military port in all of Westeros.

The port is bustling, teeming with ships flying various flags from around the world. A long queue forms far out in the bay, waiting for customs inspection and clearance. Meanwhile, the capital's defense fleet patrols the waters, maintaining order among the incoming ships.

This has led to the disappearance of most of the once-rampant smuggling and criminal gangs in King's Landing. The remaining few are either idle or desperate petty thieves. The Customs Director, a formidable man rumored to be a former smuggler, is well-versed in the loopholes and tactics of smugglers in King's Landing. His swift and ruthless actions have made him a nightmare for all smugglers.

This Customs Director even survived an assassination attempt by these criminal forces, which enraged the imperial high command and led to a bloody conflict. Two years ago, the Imperial Council issued a death order to the Commander of the Capital Defense Force, who launched a sweeping operation that eradicated all major criminal forces in King's Landing, earning applause from the public and significantly improving the city's security.

...

"Once, I thought we were destined to die in a foreign land."

"I never thought we'd actually make it back home."

On that two-masted warship flying the imperial and Greyjoy banners, two men stand side by side. They stand at the bow of the ship, feet on a wooden barrel, gazing at the bustling metropolis bathed in the afternoon sun and the imperial palace towering atop Aegon's High Hill.

For that is where they are headed next, to meet the Emperor in the Throne Room.

Chapter 745: The Seventh Year of the New Calendar (2/3)

The two men at the bow of the ship exchanged glances, both seeing the tension and excitement in each other's eyes. This was their most significant and shining moment in life.

"King's Landing, here we come..."

One of the men, with golden hair and a scar on his cheek, took a deep breath.

Standing beside him was a companion with dark hair and a pitch-black eyepatch, looking every bit the pirate.

"Huh?"

"I remember that even from a great distance, you could smell that nauseating stench from King's Landing."

The golden-haired man with the scar on his cheek inhaled deeply and spoke, slightly puzzled.

"Jack, have you been to King's Landing before?"

His one-eyed companion, wearing an eyepatch, turned his head and asked.

"Yes, I came here as a child with my father."

"We were here on business."

The man referred to as Jack by his companion didn't hide anything and nodded.

"How fortunate."

"I've never been to King's Landing."

The companion with the eyepatch, whose face looked somewhat fierce, shook his head, his voice tinged with envy.

He was a bastard from the Iron Islands, where bastards are looked down upon, as they are everywhere. Although he had a noble father, having such a father was no different from not having one at all. He had lived an orphan-like life, dependent on his mother until she died of illness, leaving him utterly alone.

The only good thing his father ever did that could be considered fatherly was to give him a ship before the fall of the Iron Islands, allowing his own flesh and blood to escape by sea.

The two men conversing on the ship were among the many pirates who had encountered the imperial fleet's attack at the port of Naath Island years ago.

That naval battle was a one-sided massacre, a bloodbath where most pirates met their end in the depths of the ocean or fled to islands only to succumb to the Butterfly Fever. However, some were captured alive and taken as prisoners.

Among them were 'One-Eyed' Romy Pyke and Jack, who were once squad leaders in the Brotherhood of Bones. Faced with the overwhelming might of the imperial fleet, they surrendered without resistance.

Both men hailed from Westeros, and given that 'One-Eyed' Romy Pyke was a bastard from the Iron Islands, it was a tearful reunion of sorts. They knelt and swore fealty, earning the trust of Asha Greyjoy. They were cleansed of their pirate status and became part of the imperial fleet.

The two played crucial roles in the subsequent battles between the imperial fleet and the pirates of the Basilisk Isles.

Now, 'One-Eyed' Romy Pyke and 'Golden-Haired' Jack had been dispatched to King's Landing by Asha Greyjoy to meet the Emperor. They carried a special mission from Asha and, more importantly, were personally escorting something even more mysterious.

This mission allowed them to fulfill a long-held dream: to return to their homeland.

Their battered, scar-ridden brigantine quickly caught the attention of the patrolling City Watch of King's Landing. The ship flew both the imperial banner and the golden kraken flag of House Greyjoy.

The news quickly traveled from the patrolling soldiers to their captain, then to the Harbor Master of Blackwater Bay, and finally reached Davos Seaworth, the Master of Imperial Customs.

"What?"

Upon hearing the news, the Onion Knight's brow furrowed.

According to the regulations of King's Landing's port, any warship flying the imperial and noble banners could bypass the queue and enter the harbor via a special channel. All merchant ships had to yield space to imperial warships.

This rule had been in place for years; it was inconceivable that any ship coming to port would be unaware of it.

Davos instinctively felt that something was amiss and stood up.

"Take me to see it."

Chapter 746: Suspicion

Soon enough, a small boat bearing the banner of the King's Landing City Watch sailed toward the battle-scarred brigantine. After a brief exchange, the soldiers on the warship, recognizing the City Watch's banner, hastily lowered the gangplank to allow the passengers to board.

Davos Seaworth, the Master of Imperial Customs, was dressed in simple attire. He was not particularly imposing, and his appearance was unremarkable. A longsword hung at his waist, and his brown hair and hazel eyes were streaked with gray. His left hand was missing the first joint of all but the thumb, the severed digits now serving as a talisman around his neck, a constant reminder to himself.

Leading a few soldiers of the City Watch, Davos boarded the warship. On the other side, 'One-Eyed' Romy Pyke and Jack, the co-captains of this brigantine named 'Fury,' hurried over to greet him.

"Good day, my lord."

The two brothers exchanged glances. 'One-Eyed' Romy, of low birth, was unsure how to converse with nobility. Jack, his sworn brother, quickly glanced at the sigil on Davos's chest.

It appeared to be a small black ship on a gray background, with an onion on its sail. Jack was momentarily puzzled. Although not a direct Lannister, he had been taught to read and recognize the sigils and mottos of the Seven Kingdoms' major houses.

But this black ship and onion were unfamiliar to him. The design seemed rather crude, making him think that even his two-year-old daughter's doodles had more depth.

Fortunately, one of the City Watch soldiers, bearing a seven-pointed star on his shoulder, tactfully intervened.

"This is Davos Seaworth, the Master of Imperial Customs, of House Seaworth of Storm's End!"

"What? Lord Seaworth?"

"I've long heard of your reputation."

Upon being prompted, Jack quickly extended his hand to shake Davos's, while his 'One-Eyed' brother looked somewhat bewildered. He turned to Jack, wondering when he had ever heard of a Lord Seaworth.

But Jack, born to a merchant family in Lannisport, was more adept at social interactions than Romy, a mere Iron Islands bastard. Despite the scar on his cheek from a previous naval battle, Jack's visage was not fearsome but rather added a touch of valor to his handsome face, unlike his one-eyed companion who looked anything but trustworthy.

"I am Davos Seaworth."

"Welcome, friends, to King's Landing."

The Master of Imperial Customs finally spoke, shaking hands with Jack, who was clearly in charge on this ship. At the same time, he cast an approving glance at the soldier who had just spoken.

This young man was indeed promising—sharp, perceptive. Perhaps there was an opportunity to have him transferred to serve under 'Blackfish' Brynden Tully as his personal guard. Davos pondered this as his keen eyes swept over the crew, lingering especially on 'One-Eyed' Romy Pyke.

The warship was marred with battle scars, clearly having weathered numerous storms and intense naval skirmishes. The soldiers on deck, though wearing outdated Imperial armor, were unmistakably battle-hardened, as if they had recently returned from the front lines.

Yet, the Empire had been at peace for the past two years, with no wars or naval battles breaking out.

Who were these people?

The Onion Knight's eyes narrowed slightly, his face betraying nothing, but his inner suspicions deepening.

He had already been skeptical about this ship and its crew, and boarding it had only raised more questions.

"This friend's attire is indeed...haha..."

Davos then turned his gaze to 'One-Eyed' Romy, who had remained silent, and spoke in a teasing tone. It might have seemed like a jest, but his eyes were locked onto Romy, as if trying to see through his true identity.

"Uh, this is our captain, Romy."

"Romy Pyke."

"He's also a member of the Imperial Fleet."

Jack, hearing the Master of Imperial Customs, turned to look at his companion and spoke somewhat awkwardly.

Because Romy Pyke's appearance and demeanor were indeed a bit too conspicuous, making him look no different from a pirate.

He wore a black eyepatch, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his chest, coarse hemp shoes on his feet, and a curved blade at his waist. His face was unshaven, and he wore a fierce expression.

The very image of a pirate, through and through.

"Hmm?"

When the conversation suddenly shifted to him, 'One-Eyed' Romy was a bit taken aback. He looked down at his attire, not seeing any issue with it.

Isn't this how all Ironborn dress?

"Oh?"

"You're part of the Imperial Fleet?"

"But I see you're flying the banner of House Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. Are you under the command of Governor Euron?"

After a brief verbal probing, the conversation finally shifted to the crux of the matter, bringing them to the point of no return.

The Onion Knight's gaze sharpened, his voice steady as he inquired. Yet, behind his back, he subtly signaled his men. The soldiers of the King's Landing City Watch, who had already sensed the tension, discreetly rested their hands on the hilts of their swords, ready for anything.

"Governor Euron?"

"Euron Greyjoy?"

"What's a governor?"

Upon hearing the Onion Knight's words, the pirate-like 'One-Eyed' Romy finally spoke up.

He had fled overseas when the White Walkers invaded and was not familiar with the Empire's recent changes, including the new title of governor and the revamped noble system.

"We are indeed a ship of House Greyjoy."

"But we're not under Euron's command."

'One-Eyed' Romy Pyke spoke bluntly.

"We serve Lady Asha Greyjoy, hailing from the Summer Isles."

"Asha Greyjoy?"

"From the Summer Isles?"

The Onion Knight was slightly taken aback upon hearing this.

Chapter 747: A Distant Tale

"You've been gone for far too long."

"So long, in fact, that many believed you were dead."

Docked at the port of Blackwater Bay in King's Landing, the twin-masted warship 'Tempest' from the Summer Isles was busy unloading its cargo.

They had come to King's Landing for two reasons: first, to represent Lady Asha Greyjoy, and second, to deliver a particular 'item.'

The mission was of utmost importance; Asha had to choose someone reliable and competent for the task.

'One-Eyed' Romy Pyke was intently directing his men as they carefully unloaded a large crate from the ship's hold. The crate was then placed onto a specially designed large wagon.

On the other side, Davos Seaworth, the Master of Ships for the Empire, was conversing with the ship's first mate, 'Blond' Jack.

His words echoed the thoughts of many. The spreading fog from the Smoking Sea had severed communication between the east and the west. They had received no news of Asha Greyjoy, leading many to believe she and her crew were lost. Yet, unexpectedly, a ship had returned after such a long absence.

Davos had already sent word to the Throne Room. Today was the Emperor's day of audience, where he would hear petitions from the nobility in the Hall of Five Hundred.

Any noble with suggestions or grievances could come to King's Landing and submit an application to attend the court session. Commoners and merchants were also welcome.

The Small Council usually met once a week, while the larger audience days occurred bi-weekly or sometimes monthly.

The timing of Romy and Jack's arrival was less than ideal. The Emperor was currently in the Throne Room hearing petitions, and they would need to submit an application and receive approval before being granted an audience.

However, not long after, a message arrived from the Red Keep granting Romy and Jack from the Summer Isles permission to meet the Emperor.

Tyrion Lannister, the Emperor's personal advisor, would personally greet them at the gates of the Red Keep. Any matters they wished to discuss in the Throne Room had to be pre-approved by Tyrion, who would decide what could be made public and what could not. They were also briefed on the proper etiquette for meeting the Emperor.

"Take your leave, Lord Davos."

"Go ahead."

As Davos bid farewell to the captain and first mate of the 'Tempest' from the Summer Isles, he couldn't help but wonder what had transpired at the world's end, thousands of miles away.

Unfortunately, he had official duties to attend to today.

The severed fingers hanging around Davos' neck indeed served as his talisman, grounding him whenever his thoughts began to waver.

As Davos continued with his duties, elsewhere, soldiers donned in antiquated Imperial Navy armor were escorting a massive wooden crate through the bustling streets of King's Landing, drawing the attention of many of the capital's citizens.

It had been a long time since they had seen such battle-hardened soldiers, and the strange sounds emanating from the crate they were escorting piqued the people's curiosity.

Among these soldiers, who had been on an expedition to Naath Island, many had originally set sail from King's Landing. They hadn't seen their homeland in years. What met their eyes now was a mix of unfamiliarity and delight.

The unfamiliarity came from the drastic changes that had occurred, while the delight stemmed from the evident prosperity all around them.

However, as they turned a corner, a massive shadow loomed overhead. The soldiers escorting the crate, including 'One-Eyed' Romy and Jack, were startled, instinctively drawing their swords.

But upon closer inspection, they realized it was a colossal golden statue in the heart of King's Landing's central square.

"What a massive dragon!"

The menacing dragon's claws rested on a stone pedestal, its semi-spread wings almost touching the distant building known as the 'Imperial Bank.'

The dragon's head was raised, its eyes fierce as if it were howling at the sky. Atop its back sat a handsome young human, sword drawn, pointing towards the northern sky.

"That's the great Emperor and his battle companion, Balerion."

Upon seeing the soldiers' startled reaction and even the drawing of swords, a passing merchant, dressed lavishly with a twirled mustache and portly figure, spoke disdainfully.

"Country bumpkins!"

Beside him was a dolled-up beauty, her arm entwined with his.

The pair then casually strolled past the pirate captain, heading across the square to the Imperial Bank to withdraw money for some luxury shopping.

The grandeur of the place was evident, with people from all walks of life coming and going—be they impoverished dockworkers or wealthy merchants, they all entered side by side.

"Damn it!"

"I'll gut him!"

It was only after the pair had walked away that 'One-Eyed' Romy came to his senses, feeling as if his nose was about to go crooked from anger. He had just been insulted to his face.

However, Jack quickly restrained his impulsive comrade.

It had been many years since Jack had last set foot in King's Landing. The last time he was here, he was but a boy accompanying his father. He could clearly feel that the city had changed dramatically since then, not just in its renewed architecture but also in the air—gone was the foul stench of yesteryears. Even the spirit of its people had changed.

He had heard the tone of pride in the voice of the lavishly dressed merchant who had just passed by, boasting about the city. It was the same man who had 'reminded' them that the statue was of the Imperial Emperor.

"Do they feel pride and honor for this nation, for this city?"

"Can so much change really happen in just twenty years?"

Jack muttered to himself, casting a glance at the towering statue of the young man, then shifting his gaze towards the distant Red Keep.

His anticipation grew to meet the man who, according to the tales, had single-handedly built this empire—a man who even commanded a tone of reverence whenever Lady Asha Greyjoy spoke of him.

"Let's go!"

Four or five years ago, Asha Greyjoy had led two thousand Imperial soldiers and a fleet on a half-year-long expedition to the distant island of Naath to protect the vassal states that swore fealty to the Empire.

However, after defeating some pirates and slavers on Naath, Asha faced a dilemma: whether to consolidate her gains and retreat to the Summer Isles or to press the advantage and strike at the unprepared Lizard Islands.

In the end, the Kraken's Daughter chose the risky path, leading a surprise attack on the Lizard Islands.

But the war turned out to be a disaster. The pirates of the Lizard Islands had received prior intelligence and set up an ambush. The Imperial fleet suffered heavy losses and retreated to the Summer Isles.

The islanders of Naath even faced retaliatory attacks and massacres from the pirates.

On the other hand, the pirates, not content with just repelling the Imperial fleet, coveted the ships, equipment, and wealth they could gain from defeating them.

So they allied with the Red Flower Valley tribe, located not far from the Imperial fleet's camp.

The old chieftain of the Red Flower Valley had died, and his son had become the new chieftain. However, the new chieftain was treacherous and lusted after Asha Greyjoy's beauty. He conspired with the pirates to attack the Lizard Head, asking only for a portion of the spoils, including Asha herself.

The Throne Room was abuzz with whispers, people astonished by the tale unfolding at the world's end.

"What happens next?"

At this point, the crowd couldn't help but hold their breath.

Chapter 748: The Queen of the Summer Isles

"What happens next?"

"Actually, Lady Asha Greyjoy had already discovered the betrayal of the Red Flower Valley tribe and had preemptively made contact with the Sweet Lily Valley tribe."

"Her Ladyship led us in a midnight raid, catching the enemy off guard. We struck from both sides, swiftly eliminating the Red Flower Valley tribe before turning our attention to the pirates."

In the Throne Room of the Red Keep, a gathering of the Empire's elite, along with some wealthy merchants and representatives of the common folk, listened intently. Standing among them, a proud Ironborn bastard wearing a black eyepatch spoke.

He had every reason to be proud.

The war that erupted on Zha'le Island in the Summer Isles was perilous, to say the least. In the pitch-black night, both sides were bloodthirsty, and it was a classic case of a desperate counterattack, where the few triumphed over the many.

"Lady Asha Greyjoy even personally slew Harlo, who had self-proclaimed himself as the 'Pirate King.'"

Initially, the Bone Brotherhood, who were holed up on Fly Island, had received intelligence about the Imperial fleet's plans to move against the Lizard Islands. They led the pirates in setting up an ambush, resisting the Imperial fleet's encirclement.

The Bone Brotherhood became the de facto leaders among the pirates, and their leaders, Jack and 'One-Eyed' Romi's older brother, 'Ferocious' Harlo, became the head of all the pirates in the Lizard Islands.

He even self-proclaimed himself as the 'Pirate King' after successfully repelling the Imperial fleet.

The title of 'Pirate King' wasn't originally Harlo's invention. It dated back to the Dawn Age, a title self-proclaimed by pirates who had exterminated the indigenous inhabitants of the Lizard Islands. It referred to the pirate leader who had unified the Lizard Islands and could be honorably called the Pirate King.

This self-proclaimed 'Pirate King' Harlo later faced off against the commander of the Imperial fleet, Lady Asha Greyjoy, in a one-on-one duel during the boarding battle at Lizard Head.

Ferocious Harlo, relying on his towering and robust physique, seemed to have the upper hand. However, he underestimated Asha at the last moment simply because she was a woman. The Kraken's Daughter seized the opportunity and exploited his weakness.

Asha Greyjoy, seated on the deck, suddenly lunged forward, plunging her dagger directly into Pirate King Harlo's chest.

She then clung to his body as they both plummeted into the churning sea below. It wasn't until the dawn of the next day that she was found by other crew members, clinging to a piece of driftwood.

Nonetheless, Asha Greyjoy's one-on-one duel and subsequent killing of Pirate King Harlo played a pivotal role in this monumental conflict.

The death of their leader caused the already untrained and disorganized pirates to scatter in disarray, each commandeering a ship to flee.

The Imperial fleet, having successfully repelled the pirates in a desperate counterattack at Lizard Head, lost the ability to pursue their advantage. The Sweet Lily Valley tribe, who had come as reinforcements, seemed to have grand ambitions, as if they wanted to claim all the spoils of victory.

A clash soon erupted between the Imperial forces and the Sweet Lily Valley tribe. However, the tribal warriors, dressed only in feathers and grass skirts, stood no chance against the fully armed Imperial soldiers.

Though the Imperial soldiers were already exhausted, the battle was one-sided from the start. They relied solely on their goldenheart longbows and spears to counterattack.

A stray arrow soon claimed the chieftain of the Sweet Lily Valley tribe, effectively ending the conflict.

All the tribal warriors immediately knelt in fearful surrender. In a dramatic turn of events, Asha Greyjoy had conquered both the Sweet Lily Valley and Red Flower Valley tribes, subduing the largest island in the Summer Isles, Zha'le Island, and gaining thousands of tribal warriors.

However, Asha Greyjoy's occupation of Zha'le Island naturally raised the alarm among the tribes of the other two main islands of the Summer Isles.

They set aside their differences, united against a common foe, and demanded that Asha relinquish control of Zha'le Island and hand over the freshwater resources of Sweet Lily Valley and Red Flower Valley.

Zha'le Island, despite being the most expansive in the Summer Isles, was not the most populous or prosperous. It surpassed the prosperity of the central island of Obanlu but paled in comparison to Valano Island, the 'capital' of the Summer Isles.

The root cause of this disparity was Zha'le Island's scarcity of freshwater resources. The two most significant sources were none other than Sweet Lily Valley and Red Flower Valley.

Thus, controlling these two freshwater resources would effectively mean ruling over Zha'le Island.

The tribal alliance of the Summer Isles demanded that Asha Greyjoy relinquish the freshwater resources of these two valleys.

Of course, they didn't intend to return them to the Sweet Lily Valley and Red Flower Valley tribes, who had already sworn fealty to the Kraken's Daughter. Had they possessed such wisdom, understanding the essence of unity and governance, they would have unified long ago.

For the Summer Isles, isolated from all continents and adrift in the Summer Sea, their history had never been influenced by any great civilization. They remained in a primitive tribal state, governed by the law of the survival of the fittest.

Their greed and threats, aimed at seizing control of Zha'le Island, provided Asha, ever the keen observer, another opportunity.

As the daughter of Balon Greyjoy, a man devoted to the Old Way, Asha, though different from her father, was no soft-hearted soul. The discovery of significant gold veins on the Iron Peninsula by her soldiers only strengthened her resolve to maintain her rule here.

War broke out soon after. Several fierce battles ensued, and Asha Greyjoy, leading thousands of Zha'le Island tribal warriors and Imperial soldiers, successfully stormed into Lotus Harbor on Valano Island a year ago, effectively ending the last vestiges of local tribal rule in the Summer Isles.

Thus, she became the undisputed 'Queen of the Summer Isles,' controlling various surrounding islands including Deer Island and Bird Island. She unified the entire Summer Isles through force, disbanded all the tribes, and commanded over ten thousand tribal warriors. The capital was still set in Lotus Harbor.

"One-Eyed" Romy Pyke, a pirate turned loyalist, stood in the throne room, eloquently narrating the legendary exploits of Asha Greyjoy, the Imperial female commander.

The nobles and wealthy commoners of the Seven Kingdoms in the throne room exchanged glances, all seeing the astonishment in each other's eyes, and couldn't help but whisper among themselves.

They were amazed at the vastness of this world, where even at its farthest reaches, such splendid civilizations existed.

And they were even more astounded that the Imperial fleet of two thousand, which they vividly remembered departing from King's Landing, had not perished as rumors suggested but had conquered a nation at the edge of the world.

Yet, amid their astonishment, they couldn't help but feel their spirits soar. After all, legendary tales always stir the blood, inviting one to imagine themselves in the story.

Who wouldn't want to become the next 'Conqueror' Aegon?

Many among the Seven Kingdoms' nobility were already contemplating whether they should organize a fleet for a long voyage.

Chapter 749: The Vassal Principality

Years have passed.

The ancient Oldtown has undergone a seismic transformation. The city walls have expanded outward, magnificent wonders have risen from the ground, and the children who once played at being knights have grown into dashing young men.

"Your Grace."

A young man with blue eyes and auburn hair, his demeanor stern and meticulous, knocked on the door before pushing it open to speak.

"The person has been brought."

This auburn-haired young man is none other than Robb Stark, the squire to Viserys. In the blink of an eye, he has been at Viserys' side for several years and has now come of age at sixteen.

Perhaps it won't be long before he leaves King's Landing to return to his homeland and assume the position of Governor of the North, a prospect Robb has long awaited.

For now, the Governorship of the North is still under the stewardship of Lord Rickard Karstark. Although his mother, Lady Catelyn, assures him that Rickard is trustworthy, and despite the regular letters from Rickard updating him on the state of the North, Robb can't help but feel uneasy.

He believes that true peace of mind will only come when the power is in his own hands. Moreover, he dislikes how Rickard addresses him as 'Young Lord' in the letters, patronizing him as if he were still a child.

"I am not a child!"

"I have come of age!"

Thus, every time Robb receives a letter from the North, he roars these sentiments in his heart.

However, now that his mother, Lady Catelyn, has returned to Winterfell with his younger siblings, Robb has no one to confide in.

He can't share these frustrations with his sister Sansa, who serves as a handmaiden to the Queen, so he keeps these vexations bottled up within him.

As the years have passed, everything and everyone has changed, and Viserys is no exception.

He sits at his desk, his back to it, his fingers gently stroking the surface as if gazing out at the distant sea. Yet, in reality, he is merely closing his eyes to meditate, for he can see the ocean without needing to look.

Viserys hasn't changed much in appearance over the years, save for the stubble that now graces his lower lip, a sign of his lack of attention to shaving.

However, compared to a certain young man standing beside him, who has deliberately grown a beard to appear mature, the change in Viserys's aura is far more dramatic.

He doesn't need facial hair to prove his maturity or authority; his mere presence, a flick of his finger, or a subtle change in his gaze is enough to unsettle anyone.

The person Robb Stark has brought today is none other than the captain of the ship "Fury," Romy "One-Eye" Pyke, Asha Greyjoy's trusted right-hand man. He carries a mission of great importance, something not suitable for discussion in the Throne Room filled with five hundred people, as Tyrion Lannister, the Emperor's personal advisor, had informed them yesterday.

Tyrion had promised to convey the matter, leading to today's private audience with Viserys.

"Your Grace."

Though he had met the Emperor in the Throne Room just yesterday, this private meeting still fills Romy Pyke, the Ironborn bastard with a black eye patch, with a sense of tension.

After all, given his lowly birth, he would never have set foot in the Throne Room, let alone have a private audience with the Emperor, were it not for a stroke of fate.

"Your Grace."

"This is what Lady Asha Greyjoy has sent me to deliver."

Romy Pyke then reaches into his coat and produces a letter sealed with the Greyjoy family's sigil. He hands it to Robb Stark, who serves as the squire.

Robb briefly inspects the letter to ensure it's not poisoned before respectfully handing it over to Viserys.

Viserys takes the letter, his fingers deftly slicing open the seal as if with a paper cutter, and extracts the parchment. Everything Lady Asha Greyjoy wishes to convey is written there.

After reading the entire letter, Viserys's eyes flicker momentarily, and he remains silent for a while.

On the other side, Robb Stark casts a sidelong glance at the Ironborn bastard beside him. As for the one-eyed captain, Romy Pyke, his face is a mask of confusion, for he has no idea what the letter actually contains.

"Asha Greyjoy. Commendable in her expeditions, commendable in her conquests."

"Bestowed the title of Grand Duchess of the Summer Isles, a title to be inherited by her descendants."

Viserys remains silent for a moment after reading the letter, then finally speaks.

The moment he opens his mouth, he bestows upon Asha Greyjoy a title of the highest rank, one that has never been granted since the establishment of the empire. It even surpasses the titles bestowed upon Renly as the Duke of the Stormlands and Daenerys as the Duchess of Dragonstone.

Asha had been promised a high position by Viserys before her expedition. Upon her return, she could choose any castle throughout the Seven Kingdoms. She had always dreamt of being titled 'Lady' in her own right.

However, through a series of fortunate or unfortunate events, Asha has conquered a vast territory, taking over the entire Summer Isles and becoming its sole queen.

Viserys, of course, would not be so greedy as to seize land from his own subordinates.

Moreover, the Summer Isles were never a territory claimed by the Iron Throne, not even by the Valyrian Freehold, despite its proximity.

Perhaps the land was too barren for the Dragonlords of Valyria to consider it worth conquering.

So, this is Asha's own achievement in conquest, rightfully her own territory. The letter she wrote, ostensibly a report to the Emperor of her military achievements, is filled between the lines with a 'praise me' subtext.

Thus, Viserys is not stingy; he directly bestows upon Asha Greyjoy the title of Grand Duchess, with rights to be inherited. It becomes a true state, and the Summer Isles are incorporated into the empire as a vassal state.

In theory, from now on, the Summer Isles must pay tribute to the empire, and the empire must provide protection to its vassal state. However, due to the great distance between them, this is likely to be a relationship in name only.

Yet, the Summer Isles, as a 'nail' or outpost of the empire, are firmly embedded in the Summer Sea, not easily removed by anyone.

Moreover, it extends the empire's influence across the sea to even more distant places, such as Slaver's Bay, Sothoryos, Qarth, and even the nations and regions surrounding the Jade Sea, like the Isle of Tears, Leng, and the Golden Empire of Yi Ti.

Viserys's original objective has not only been achieved but has been exceeded, so he is naturally not stingy.

Chapter 750: The Monster

Owing to historical reasons, the city-states of Slaver's Bay, the closest to the newly reestablished Valyrian Empire, are now compelled to consider the impact of the empire on them.

For the Valyrian Freehold had once turned the lands of the Ghiscari Empire, now known as Slaver's Bay, into scorched earth. Cities like Meereen and Yunkai were once Valyrian colonies, much like the current Summer Isles.

Rumor has it that a fleet laden with gifts has already set sail from Meereen, heading for the distant West, preparing to establish diplomatic relations with the empire.

In her letter, Asha also made a request: she wants a woman.

That woman is none other than Brienne of Tarth, the 'Beauty' with whom she had a brawl in a tavern in King's Landing.

Now, Countess Brienne Tarth has graduated from the military academy and is serving in the Riverlands, as a high-ranking officer in the legion, commanding a thousand elite imperial soldiers.

Asha wants Brienne to come to the Summer Isles to assist her, even promising her high rank and generous rewards.

Of course, Viserys would not force this; it's up to Brienne. If she wishes to venture into the outside world, then she should. If she prefers to stay home, there will undoubtedly be opportunities for her martial skills in the future.

The empire's military has been expanding for several consecutive years, primarily to guard against threats from the North.

According to data provided by the Oldtown Academy, the last summer lasted from 289 to 292 AC, which was the year before the new era. The current period from 293 to 299 AC almost matches the seven-year-long summer of 223 to 230 AC.

However, neither the earlier requests for rewards nor the later request for a person are of great importance. The main purpose of Asha's letter is saved for last, and it's the reason why Viserys remained silent for a long while after reading the entire letter.

"Has it arrived?"

Viserys then stands up from his chair to ask.

"Yes, Your Grace."

The Ironborn bastard couldn't help but tense up at the mention of this 'thing,' for their primary objective for this journey is actually to escort 'it.'

Anyone could falter, but 'it' must not.

For 'it' is none other than Asha Greyjoy, or rather, now known as the Lady Paramount. He is her uncle, Victarion.

Yet, Victarion has now fully transformed into a terrifying creature known as the 'Drowned One,' making Viserys' eyes narrow in seriousness.

Having personally encountered such horrific, magical creatures, anything related to Valyria naturally puts him on high alert. Especially this half-man, half-fish monstrosity, which he had read about in Gillian's journal.

"Take me to see it."

The crate and carriage transporting Victarion were unloaded from the port and brought into King's Landing but were not allowed into the Red Keep.

After all, such a large object that couldn't be disassembled was naturally not permitted entry by Grey Worm, the Commander of the Unsullied.

However, with the Emperor's permission, this specially designed carriage and its mysterious large crate could naturally enter the Red Keep.

Grey Worm, his eyes cold and hands clasped behind his back, watched as the carriage passed through the gates and into the Red Keep. He then gave a curt nod to the soldiers beside him.

"Follow."

He was still uneasy about this large crate, especially given the occasional sounds emanating from within.

Was there a... living creature inside?

Yet, what kind of living creature could be confined in such a mobile prison cart? The exterior was wooden, but the interior was lined with iron bars as thick as a baby's arm. What could possibly require such a cage?

Fortunately, the royal family had been residing in Highgarden for years, leaving the Red Keep, the traditional palace, vacant for four years. Only Viserys occasionally traveled between the two locations for brief overnight stays.

Even most of the time, any important decisions by the Small Council required sending a raven to Highgarden for consultation.

However, now that the empire was running smoothly, there weren't many matters requiring the Emperor's approval, affording him more leisure time.

Soon, the wheels groaned under the weight, and the carriage entered the Red Keep, heading straight for the most secluded godswood in the back, where it came to a halt.

Grey Worm led a dozen Unsullied soldiers, flanking the carriage on both sides. The soldiers from the Summer Isles, responsible for transporting the large crate, carefully unloaded it from the carriage.

At that moment, a woman in a red robe swiftly walked through the corridor. However, when she saw the large crate, she abruptly stopped, her red eyes widening in clear astonishment.

"This is... the power of destruction."

She is none other than Melisandre, the Vice-Chancellor of the Theological Academy and the leader of the Red God faith across Westeros.

Four years ago, the headquarters of the Red God faith had sent the red-robed monk Maqorro across the sea to King's Landing for 'advisory work.' Unfortunately, after a series of palace intrigues, Maqorro gained no advantage. After all, Melisandre was one of the earliest followers of Viserys and would not be easily ousted.

So, Maqorro left King's Landing and reportedly ventured alone to the North, where he then disappeared.

What Melisandre now senses is the 'darkness and destruction' she once felt on a wall in the Red Temple of Volantis—specifically, the destruction.

"What on earth is happening?"

"Have the demons of the underworld begun to awaken?"

Melisandre's expression turned unprecedentedly grim.

With a formidable enemy still unresolved at the edge of the eternal ice plains, more trouble has come knocking. Is this the rhythm of the apocalypse?

In fact, the underworld demons have not been very active in human history for thousands or even tens of thousands of years, so many people are completely unaware of them.

However, if one were to delve into human history, they would find that tales of underworld demons, White Walkers, and the Long Night exist in every corner of the world, such as Valyria's Fourteen Flames, the Queen of the Iron Islands, and subterranean deities, among others.

Melisandre looked down from the second-floor corridor, her face changing abruptly. She then gathered her robe and quickly descended.

On the other side, Viserys, along with his squire Robb Stark and the Ironborn bastard, had also arrived.

Viserys then gave a slight nod, signaling them to dismantle all the wooden boards around the crate. The soldiers exchanged glances before cautiously stepping forward.

Chapter 751: Chapter 751 The Eastern World

As pieces of wood were removed, sunlight tore through the darkness, piercing through the iron bars and illuminating the interior. All the onlookers involuntarily held their breath.

Viserys narrowed his eyes slightly, standing directly in front of the iron cage housing the gigantic, dying monster.

It was over seven feet tall, its body covered in scales and smooth, delicate skin. A fish's fin protruded from its back.

Its hands and feet had transformed into sharp, deadly claws, easily capable of shredding human armor. Its eyes had turned crimson, the pupils murky and filled with utter violence.

Its mouth was lined with jagged, serrated teeth. Lying at the bottom of the iron cage, it continued emitting low, rumbling sounds from its throat.

"Your Majesty."

"This is a demon from the depths of the earth."

Somehow the red priestess Melisandre had arrived before Viserys, her voice solemn as she spoke.

Although everyone else avoided the iron cage, including the Summer Islands soldiers who had transported it here, Melisandre showed no fear. Instead she came to Viserys' side.

"I see."

"You know something about this?"

Viserys tilted his head slightly towards the red priestess beside him. He had already noticed Melisandre's arrival, since nothing could escape his perception. What truly intrigued him was what she might know about this monster.

Melisandre did not rush to answer Viserys' question. She gazed at the caged monster, then slowly walked forward until she stood right before the bars, calmly observing it.

"My lady, please be careful!"

On the other side, the captain of the Fury who had escorted the monster warned nervously.

He kept his distance, having personally clashed with the creature before. When Victarion had gone berserk on the battlefield, wantonly slaughtering the Lotus Port natives and indiscriminately attacking civilians, it helped Asha capture Lotus Port and become Queen of the Summer Islands.

But subduing Victarion afterwards had come at tremendous cost. More thoroughly evolved than Gerion had been, Victarion willingly immersed himself in the transformation process when defeated, causing immense carnage.

Over a hundred lives were lost before they succeeded in capturing the monster. The memory remained fresh for the Ironborn bastard.

"I see," was all Melisandre said. She made no move to retreat, meticulously examining the caged beast instead. After some time she finally turned to face Viserys, speaking slowly.

"It resembles a magical construct... something from the 'City of the Dead', Stygai."

"Stygai?" Viserys' face revealed puzzlement. Seeing this, Melisandre readily explained without concealing anything.

"I hail from Asshai-by-the-Shadow, Your Majesty. The City of the Dead, Stygai, lies at the heart of Shadow. It is also called the 'City of Night' - save for midday when the sun is at its zenith, the city sees no sunlight throughout the rest of the day."

"In the Shadow Lands, monsters and demons abound everywhere except Asshai. Not even the most powerful warlocks, sorcerers or necromancers of Stygai dare traverse that place."

Having spent so long in the Western world, many had forgotten Melisandre's origins. She came from distant Asshai, called the 'Heretic' - even the Dothraki feared her, deeming those from Asshai the 'offspring of shadow'.

But in truth, Asshai did not spawn shadow - shadow had no children. The sorcerous metropolis of Asshai was larger than Volantis, Qarth, King's Landing and Oldtown combined, yet had not a single child within its bounds.

"It is dangerous, Your Majesty!" Melisandre regarded Viserys, then the seemingly lifeless monster in the cage once more before hastily averting her gaze. "I advise executing it at once, or exiling it to the Shadow Lands!"

The lands around Asshai teemed with monsters. About a decade ago, around the end of the War of the Usurper in Westeros, an upheaval occurred among the creatures of Shadow, the Grey Waste and the cannibal sands. They relentlessly assaulted the world of men.

The Golden Empire defended ancient Yi Ti from marauders of Shadow. To the northeast, the Five Forts manned year-round by hundreds of thousands of imperial troops held off the monsters from the Grey Waste.

The pale mages of the corpse city K'Dath and other dead cities, trapped amidst the Grey Waste and cannibal sands, struggled to survive. One claiming to be the sixty-ninth emperor of an extinct dynasty, a thousand-year old necromancer ruled the dead city.

The entire Eastern world sought salvation. It was then that Melisandre pored through ancient tomes, eventually boarding a ship from Asshai to find a solution, sailing the Jade Sea, arriving at Qarth, then Ghiscar and the Smoking Sea before reaching Volantis.

In the flames of prophecy she witnessed Viserys hatching dragons. Convinced he was the key to saving the world, she set sail for Andalos to find him.

Though largely considered myth and legend, the people of the east had battled these monsters for countless years. Melisandre came west in search of answers, only to find the monsters of legend, like the prophesied Long Night, now materializing in Westeros as well.

Hearing Melisandre's advice, Viserys was silent for a while. He too had seen such transformed monsters in the ruins of Valyria. If the creatures from these Shadow Lands resembled them...

"It was Victarion who transformed?" he asked.

The captain of the Fury quickly nodded. "Open the cage," Viserys ordered after a moment's consideration.

"Your Majesty!" All present reacted in shock, but Viserys gave no indication of changing his mind. Left with no choice, they reluctantly approached to open the monster's cage.

"Defensive formation!" The Unsullied soldiers braced for impact, raising shields and long spears in a circular formation.

Viserys himself stood unmoving at the center, calmly watching the seemingly lifeless monster within.

Finally it slowly raised its head, confirming that the cage was open. Its crimson eyes fixed on Viserys before it abruptly pounced at him.

"Your Majesty, be careful!" Wielding his spear, Black Bugg rushed to shield Viserys. Melisandre had already calmly retreated behind him.

But Viserys pushed Black Bugg aside, meeting the monster's charge himself. With sudden, faster movement he reached out and clutched its throat mid-pounce.

Bang!

It crashed heavily to the ground, dust flying everywhere.

Chapter 752: Awakening

This monster was attracted by the kindred aura from Viserys's body, which Viserys could likewise sense.

These dark mists existed in the bottomless abysses beyond the Wall, the ruins of Valyria, the Shadow Lands, the Grey Waste, and other such regions.

It could turn all infected surface creatures into demons, altering their forms and even minds. The power Viserys possessed was of the same origin as these monsters, though it remained unclear why the black mist he had absorbed and wielded did not transform him into a monster as well. Nor did the black mist he dispensed.

If the untamed black mists were like toxic, untreated water, then Viserys was like a purifier, absorbing and harnessing all the black mist that passed through him.

Why? No one could explain it to him.

Nonetheless, when he grabbed the monster's throat and slammed it straight to the ground, everyone present felt their eyelids flicker sharply, all except Melisandre, who remained calm.

Especially the Unsullied commander who had loyally tried to block Viserys earlier. Staggering from Viserys' shove, he plopped to the ground. Then in a split second, he witnessed His Imperial Majesty effortlessly hurl the incredibly swift monster to the earth, as if he were hammering iron.

Boom!

Cracks formed in the timbered courtyard floor from the heavy landing. Robbed of its earlier momentum, the creature could only lie there whimpering.

Viserys had reduced this pouncing tiger of a monster into a mewling kitten. Furthermore, it was already starving, since the escorting soldiers dared not overfeed it, giving tiny rations only every ten days to keep it alive. Thus, it made no attempt to get back up.

"Huff...huff..."

It lay on the ground, panting heavily. The savagery and destructive impulses in its eyes were gone, replaced by a hint of regained calm.

Of course it hadn't been bashed back to its senses. Viserys had simply drained the magical energy from its body.

The surrounding Summer Isles soldiers and their captains gawked at each other, just remembering that the man before them was the heroic savior who had rescued all mankind and faced the Night King alone years ago.

Naturally someone like him could easily subdue a small monster. How admirable for the empire's emperor to be humanity's last hope!

Deeply awed and reverent, the soldiers marveled internally. As waves lapped steadily around him, Viserys gazed impassively down at the creature, then spoke.

"Are you Victarion?"

"Youngest brother of Euron and Aeron Greyjoy?"

Still heaving on the ground, the over-two-meter-tall monster gave a full-body shudder at the voice from above, then came to his senses. He hastily scrambled up from the ground.

The surrounding Unsullied soldiers grew tense as well, gripping their shields and spears as the crewmen of Fury unsheathed their swords.

Melisandre continued observing the monster intently, hints of probing in her pretty red eyes, as if she wanted to roast it for answers.

Her gaze made the monster's body tremble slightly, for it had fully regained lucidity, along with memories of its muddled state.

It recalled certain unpleasant memories—the last person who became a similar monster perished screaming at the Red Priests' stake. Now it faced an all-too-familiar scene: humans with bared weapons encircling it, a Red Priestess among them.

But with clarity came prudence. Having been utterly powerless against the silver-haired man moments ago, escape was the last thing on its mind.

Unsure of Viserys' identity still, Victarion had seen and heard nothing while shut in that crate, half-starved for over ten days before getting bodyslammed back to consciousness.

Yet instinct told it the man before him was far stronger, so it decided to answer honestly when Viserys spoke again.

"I am."

Victarion's voice was hoarse, like the scrape of a blade over stone—likely from prolonged silence altering his vocal cords. But Viserys understood and glanced sharply at him in response.

Although these people had repeatedly confirmed this monster's identity, seeing was believing.

The bizarre fish-man monster looked nothing remotely human. Hearing it speak suddenly made Viserys' heart skip a beat despite mentally bracing himself.

Humans...could truly become such monsters?

Then again, considering the undead armies of the frozen north, nothing seemed impossible in this world.

"How did you become like this?"

Viserys had already heard their account of Victarion getting ambushed and infected by one of the monsters during a wound. But he still wanted to hear Victarion recount the full process himself.

After Victarion finished, Viserys lapsed into contemplation.

He had hoped to extract useful intelligence from the first afflicted person he'd met who could still regain sanity, thinking Victarion's corruption couldn't run too deep.

But it turned out Victarion knew little more than his own tragic circumstance. He was but a hapless victim.

"You are...Viserys?"

Gazing wordlessly at the pensive silver-haired man, the over-two-meter abyssal fish-man finally couldn't resist confirming his guess.

Initially, Victarion had assumed he was brought to Volantis, the only place abundant in Red Priests and Unsullied warriors alongside such rare silver-haired folk in Westeros.

Yet surveying his surroundings made him recognize this as King's Landing's Red Keep. He had visited the capital in his youth and discerned the alterations.

Only then did Victarion realize the other man's identity, hence his tentative query.

Chapter 753: Qyburn

"This is His Imperial Majesty the Emperor!"

The Unsullied commander brandished his spear and sternly reminded, "Your Majesty." Though court etiquette was more relaxed here, directly addressing the emperor by name remained a grave discourtesy.

"Your Majesty," Victarion quickly corrected himself, voice dipping lower with newfound awe.

"Can you make me lucid again?"

Barely containing his excitement, Victarion asked the question burning inside him.

Initially after contracting this arcane curse, he hadn't worried. But despair gradually set in as reversal proved impossible, the changes unstoppable. He could only watch himself transform into a monster, step by step.

Until finally, he lost all sanity on the battlefield, becoming a mindless killing machine.

Yet Viserys had undone it all, restoring his mind. Though forever trapped in this hybrid form, at least Victarion was still himself—retaining his identity instead of devolving into a bloodthirsty aberration. How could that not thrill him?

Lost in thought, Viserys glanced up at Victarion's voice, eyes flickering. He nodded.

"Yes, I can."

"But I will need your cooperation with some matters."

The crux to deciphering the black mist ultimately lay in re-exploring Valyria's ruins, or delving into one of the bottomless pits once suppressed by the old gods beyond the Wall.

But the winds of winter neared, and Viserys sensed the northern foe amassing power for another invasion.

Aside from actively preparing for war, he had no time to go exploring perilous sites, least of all one whose dangers only he fully grasped.

Moreover, resisting the White Walkers weighed solely on his shoulders. Viserys could abandon his painstakingly built empire and flee with his family, yet the human world depended on him to remain.

With winter nigh, his sudden disappearance was too calamitous to contemplate. The Cold God doubtlessly meant to crush all resistance this time, after ages of accumulation.

As mankind's last beacon of hope, Viserys naturally couldn't desert his duty. He would have to pinpoint a breakthrough from Victarion instead.

Hopefully his afflicted body held secrets.

After long rumination, Viserys finally spoke.

"Summon Qyburn."

That afternoon, within the Red Keep...

A syringe as thick as an infant's arm pierced Victarion's skin, extracting a tube of dark liquid—his blood, which might look ruddy under direct sunlight but remained deep hued in this dim room.

"Your Majesty, I have gathered samples of Lord Victarion's blood and other attributes."

The white-haired old maester held several sealed vials of blood, mucus, and scales from the merman monster. Victarion stared unpleasantly at him in response.

The overt zeal in the elder's gaze just now disturbed even this hardened straight man.

Qyburn had eyed Victarion like he was beholding an unmatched beauty or priceless treasure.

"However...I fear certain necessary 'materials' are still required, Your Majesty."

After storing his samples, Qyburn didn't immediately take his leave. Instead, he further petitioned Viserys.

The 'materials' Qyburn needed could be found in King's Landing's black market, which he frequented for replenishing his stock. Rumors had even circulated about a mad maester dissecting corpses. Public protests led by agitated smallfolk had demanded sanctions against him from the Iron Throne and Faith, albeit unsuccessfully.

But this experiment was no mundane affair. Qyburn likely sought more than just dead bodies now.

Viserys silently pondered a moment before permitting Qyburn to select some death row convicts from the dungeons.

For all the ideals of this modern world, condemned prisoners truly lacked any human rights, having committed unpardonable atrocities. Their death warrants underwent extensive review until the Imperial Minister of Justice himself authorized immediate execution.

Seeing Viserys acquiesce, delight suffused Qyburn's craggy face.

Live experimentation absolutely violated civilized ethics, so Viserys had expressly forbidden Qyburn from pursuing it without cause, much less harming innocents. But capital offenders were excluded.

"Your Majesty," the hunchbacked elder with white hair and a wrinkled face bowed and took his leave, mute assistant in tow.

No one wished to associate with the likes of Qyburn. Even his colleague Archmaester Ambrose scorned him.

But Viserys had permitted Qyburn a place in the Imperial Medical Academy, along with a fully-equipped, generously funded private lab for his solitary studies on medicine, anatomy, and magic.

Influenced by Archmage Marwyn, Qyburn also somewhat grasped necromantic arts, making him quite the unorthodox multifaceted researcher.

As for the deaf-mute assistant, Qyburn had rescued him from destitution during a supply run and informally adopted the abandoned boy, raising him all these years while grooming him as a disciple.

With too much weighing on his plate, unlocking Victarion's condition was now critical for Viserys to unravel the black mist enigma.

He had even considered capturing some abyssal creatures from Valyria for research, but ultimately judged the endeavor too risky and uncertain. Yet now, one had fortuitously delivered itself.

Asha Greyjoy truly hadn't disappointed him.

By securing samples of Victarion's bodily fluids and attributes, Qyburn could focus his investigation on the infection and transformation process.

Could such abyssal monsters be artificially produced?

Chapter 754: Giant Prince

Chapter 754: The Giant Prince

Good news came from the Kingswood outside King's Landing.

After a pregnancy of thirty-six months, the giant queen Eda Mae Hend Tully successfully gave birth to a giant prince.

His father, the giant king Mag Maz Tundo Tully, kept vigil day and night by his son's side, fearful that he might come to harm. Even the dragons that dwelled in the Kingswood were not allowed to draw near.

Of course Mag was not worried that the dragons would injure his son. After all, they had lived together for so many years. Rather, he feared that the great beasts might accidentally trample the babe. This was the last of the giant kind.

Save for the three adult dragons who took no interest, the five young dragons all gathered round, craning their heads curiously from afar to observe. They were most intrigued by the human way of bearing children, though to their eyes giants were no different than humans - merely "tall shrimps" as it were.

"Oo-ta-na-gan."

The voice of the Giant King rumbled as the Children of the Forest gathered to observe as well.

To the giants, these "shrimps" posed no threat. Moreover, their gentle hearts put Mag at ease enough to let them draw near.

In the Old Tongue of the giants, "oo-ta-na-gan" meant "squirrel folk".

While dragons bred through eggs and the Children through mysterious means (legend held the weirwoods as their mother), the child of the forest Snow was also curious about the origin of life. Leaf had spied on human breeding during her travels through Westeros.

Together, they used their magic to sing blessings for the young giant prince.

The giant birthing became the greatest event amongst the neighbors dwelling in the Kingswood. And as the children sang, a mass of black fog suddenly billowed forth not far off.

Whoosh~~ Boom~~

The Giant King Mag instantly tensed as if facing a great foe, seizing a large tree in readiness as the muscles in his arms bulged.

Yet as the black fog swirled open, he glimpsed a figure garbed in splendid gold-threaded robes stepping out from its midst, the darkness draining back into his being.

"It's you."

"Viserys."

Seeing the visitor's face, the Giant King mildly relaxed, setting his weapon down.

"Aye, congratulations to you, Mag."

"I heard Eda had borne a child and came to see."

Stepping forth from the dark mist, Viserys spoke calmly in the Old Tongue once used by the First Men and giants.

Due to his outstanding gift for learning, what was most overlooked about Viserys was his scholarship. The breadth of knowledge contained in his mind nowise paled before that of a maester of the Citadel. Photographic memory granted him mastery over the books he read. By now he had grasped numerous languages - the Common Tongue of Westeros, several Valyrian dialects, the Old Tongue of the First Men, the True Tongue of the Children, Dothraki, and more.

"My thanks."

Upon hearing Visery's words, the Giant King nodded slightly. With heavy steps, he moved aside to open the way, turning back towards his wife and child.

At this time, his queen "Gentle Eda" bared her bosom without modesty, suckling their babe. Lacking human concepts of shame, the naked giants were untroubled by this. The Children still knelt, singing softly on the ground.

Viserys' pale violet eyes shimmered faintly. The rhythms of magic in the forest trembled visibly before him. The power of the Children had grown tremendously, perhaps owing to the inexorable return of magic to the world. This elder race, long faded into twilight, now regained its vitality.

When the Children finished their song, Leaf and Snow rose from the earth and greeted Viserys.

"Viserys, you've come!"

Delighted to see him, Leaf extended her three-clawed hand to clasp Viserys' own in the fashion she had learned from humans. Ever vivacious and open-minded, her curiosity towards the outside world ran deep. On the other hand, the shy Snow still harbored some trepidation towards Viserys despite dwelling in the Kingswood for years. She blinked uncertainly without a word.

"I've come to see the babe."

Viserys nodded slightly in response. With the young giant prince now fed and slumbering heavily, his mother Eda showed no fear of Viserys either. Trustingly, she cradled her child and held him out.

Naturally Viserys bore their child no ill intent - else he would not have granted this haven for their kind to dwell and thrive. She and her husband could live undisturbed by mankind here in the Kingswood.

In the end giants were but a species of hominid, not men themselves. Yet the same held true for humans. Only when at ease and free of anxiety did either race choose to bear offspring. Eda's pregnancy and labor evidenced that life in the Kingswood had brought genuine peace of mind to the giants.

Viserys reached out to take the babe from Eda's hands into his own.

In truth, infant giants did not appear so hideous as their elders, lacking the thick body hair and exaggerated proportions. Save for the flattened face, they differed little from human babes in size.

"What have you named him?"

Dappled sunlight shone through the lush foliage upon the simple wooden hall of the giants' construction.

Cradling the fragile life in his arms, Viserys' pale violet gaze gleamed as he asked.

"He has no name yet."

The giant father Mag's voice rumbled in answer.

"I possess little learning."

"I would ask you to name him, Viserys."

Exposure to the world of men had broadened the perspectives of the Giant King. He now understood well the value of tools and the depths of human knowledge. Hence giants who never built shelters now raised their own wooden hall, while those who never wore clothes now possessed personalized armor commissioned from Viserys.

Yet Mag's mind was not clever enough to grasp such complex matters. His hopes now rested upon his son instead. Long before Eda's pregnancy, Mag had hoped for Viserys to name their child. He had not expected Viserys to take the initiative.

"Name him?"

Cradling the babe, Viserys' splendid robes draped over the ground as he pondered briefly before replying.

"Atis then."

Chapter 755: Helaeros Targaryen

In the Age of Heroes, there was a legendary leader named Atis who, though born a man, lived in harmony with all living things.

Atis counted giants and mermaids among his friends. An immense hunting falcon bore him as its rider. And at last, he took one of the Children of the Forest as his wife.

"I've heard of that name!"

Upon hearing the name Viserys had chosen, Leaf's small claws shot up eagerly as she interrupted:

"I think he was called the Winged Knight. His wife was a singer, but she died in childbed."

As intermarriage between humans and Children was uncommon, Atis' wife remained well-known in their lore.

Now the Giant King Mag, having heard Viserys' selection, carefully retrieved his son from his hands.

"The future Giant King Atis then?"

Mag raised the babe high to meet the dappled sunlight filtering through the dense Kingswood foliage. Curled in his father's palm, the tiny prince still slept soundly. He even smacked his lips, licking the milk there.

"Good!"

"Then my son shall be named Atis!" the Giant King's voice rumbled joyfully, rousing the little Atis. His mother snatched her child back, shooting her husband a reproachful look.

Later, Mag made another request of Viserys - that his son might be raised alongside Viserys' own, becoming playmates and companions. From a young age, Atis would receive human education.

The giants edged ever closer towards extinction. The last of their kind had perished battling men and White Walkers. Mag knew not whether any kin remained in the world save himself and Eda. Atis was destined to learn little at his father's side, perhaps ultimately stumbling through life just as dimwittedly until his race winked out.

Thus despite Mag's meager wisdom, he grasped the necessity of radical change lest genocide await. His son's only hope was companionship with Viserys' boy, gaining prospects surpassing those his father could provide. Perhaps Atis might even seize authority, locating their scattered people to revive giant civilization.

This request was not unreasonable. A giant playmate could benefit Viserys' son as well. After brief consideration, Viserys nodded in agreement.

Four years past, Viserys had moved the royal household west to Highgarden. There he had quietly wed Rhaenys, the Imperial Crown Princess.

Their long-awaited son had thence arrived after Rhaenys carried him ten months.

The first in line to the Empire, endowed with rights of succession to Dorne as well.

All King's Landing erupted in elation the day he came into the world - for he was the sole apparent male heir spanning the Narrow Sea, heir both to the united realms of Andalos, Pentos and the Three Daughters...and potentially the second High Emperor of the restored Valyrian Empire. Though of course, nothing was guaranteed.

His name was Helaeros.

Helaeros Targaryen.

The suggestion came from Viserys, who told Rhaenys that 'Helaeros' was the name of a sun god in some civilization unknown to her.

In naming their son 'Helaeros', Viserys held the implication that the boy might become the dawning sun, pacifying House Martell as well. After all, Rhaenys also boasted Dornish blood, and the Martell sigil was a spear through a sun.

The ages of the giant prince Atis and Helaeros differed little. Helaeros had but recently celebrated his third nameday. Given their vitality, Atis would soon surpass him.

Viserys assented to the arrangement. In truth, observing the giant babe was not his sole motive in coming here today. He harbored certain doubts of his own to resolve by soliciting their thoughts.

"Leaf, what do you make of the present state of the world?"

Perplexed, the child of the forest regarded him in confusion, unwilling to seem a dullard who grasped not even the question. Stammering uncertainly, she offered her own interpretation:

"I find this world both fair and cruel."

"Both fair and cruel?"

"Aye. I believe it very just - before men came to the land you term Westeros, it was our home."

"Yet in those days, we too were few. The gods granted us long lives but modest numbers, lest we overrun the earth as deer might absent the wolves to cull them."

"That was in the dawn of days though, when our sun rose high. Now it sinks low into dusk, and our twilight encroaches."

"The giants are all but extinct. Once our plague and kin both."

Here Leaf glanced towards the Giant King, who appeared somewhat baffled.

For Viserys and Leaf conversed in the True Tongue of the Children which she had taught him.

"The great lions of the west have been slaughtered wholesale, the unicorns fade nigh unto oblivion, mammoths may linger yet a little while, the ice wolves perhaps will outlast us all - but their days too are numbered."

"For mankind has waxed too mighty."

Here Leaf's voice grew desiccated as a flower bereft of water, her head drooping.

"Too mighty. Your world leaves no place for them...or us."

Falling silent, Viserys took in Leaf's words.

For amidst the pressures of the White Walkers and other threats, he had contemplated bringing certain designs to fruition.

Such as launching industrial revolutions, harnessing the power of flame, embarking upon trails long since blazed by others to accelerate humanity's ascent.

Though no expert in these fields, ample funding could secure research breakthroughs if steered correctly.

"I understand."

Viserys reached out to rumple the girl's furry head, then rose to his feet.

"My thanks, Leaf."

"Huh?"

Before the bewildered girl could react further, the silver-haired man dispersed instantly into smoke and vanished without a trace.

Chapter 756: The Black Dread

As the imminent danger approached, Viserys didn't choose to sit idly by. Firstly, he allowed Qyburn to continue researching the changes in Victarion, seeking a breakthrough to unravel the mystery of his transformation from a human into this monstrous being, ultimately holding the secret in his hands. After all, he could transform an ordinary human into a lightning-fast, immensely powerful merman monster. If he possessed such a legion of monsters, it would undoubtedly send shivers down anyone's spine.

Secondly, it was an idea that had sprouted in his mind many years ago, one he wanted to bring to reality—visiting the old monk on the steps of the Novos Sin Ladder. The monk was a transcendent figure with confirmed prophetic abilities on the Essos continent, though relatively unknown. Similar to the Green Prophet in Westeros, Viserys anticipated receiving some warnings during the conversation.

Viserys arranged his departure from King's Landing, though there wasn't much to arrange, as the Valyrian Emperor had spent the past four years traveling the world on his dragon, not returning home much. The city officials initially thought it was due to the air quality in the city, driving away the esteemed Imperial family. However, even after solving the sewer problems, there was no sign of their return.

Currently, only Viserys, the dragon-riding young queen, and Princess Daenerys occasionally set foot in King's Landing. Other members of the royal family rarely visited. Of course, Prince Aegon wasn't included because, since he decided to "voluntarily" embrace the arms of the Seven, he had essentially renounced his surname, similar to Meagor I's son, Maekar, who joined the responsibility, abandoning his surname, position, and lineage.

Now an adult, Brother Aegon had become one of the most talented monks in the entire Great Sept of Baelor, being the "disciple" of the current High Septon. With his extraordinary background, it was almost certain that he would be the next High Septon unless unforeseen circumstances arose. His future was promising.

Viserys, accompanied by his old friend Balerion, set off towards Novos Sin.

Meanwhile, on the walls of King's Landing, the Master of Whispers, Varys, and the Master of Coin, Illyrio, stood facing the sea. They watched as the expansive wings of the dragon gradually turned into a speck and eventually disappeared at the intersection of sea and sky.

Afterward, Varys slightly shrugged his shoulders and, in a soft voice, remarked, "Conspiracy and deceit."

"Sin and ugliness."

"Once, these were the unchanging themes of this city. However, now it seems to have lost some effectiveness."

King's Landing was no longer filled with these clandestine things because, in blood and fire, fire being power, dragons could breathe fire. In the gaze of their majesty, everything in King's Landing became apparent.

All conspiracies and tricks were less effective than a breath of dragon fire. Especially since Viserys, although prone to mistakes, kept a clear mind throughout.

When you possess absolute power and authority, conspiracies and tricks become things that can't be brought to the forefront.

Varys was originally adept at this, but now he felt at a loss. Especially when he always had the word 'loyalty' in his heart, he became more cautious.

Walking on thin ice.

Because only Varys knew that he had never been loyal to anyone, neither to Aerys II nor to Robert, nor to his current friend. Unfortunately, Illyrio did not take his "old friend's" words to heart.

"Have you forgotten our original dreams?" Illyrio.

"Varys."

The Pentoshi man with yellow forked beard heard a displeased tone.

"Have you forgotten?"

Illyrio took a deep breath. Although he could confirm that the great Emperor had left on a dragon, thinking about his actions in recent years still made him feel fearful. When the words reached his mouth and he turned his head left and right, he reconsidered. However, Varys gave him a glance, seeming to be taken aback, and a sense of anger rose in his heart.

He did not continue to pay attention to the other party but left with his hands in his sleeves and hurried footsteps.

Viserys rode on Balerion and left King's Landing. Over the years, the Black Dragon's size had changed significantly. Although he had passed the early rapid growth period, similar to a human child, growing rapidly during the growth period, when he reached adulthood or passed the growth period, he stopped growing. This life would not grow again.

However, dragons differed from humans in that their lifespans were longer, and their adult times were not as long as humans. Generally, they reached maturity at around sixteen years. In just ten years or so, dragons could grow from a young dragon to an adult dragon.

Moreover, even if they became adult dragons, their bodies would not stop growing. It just slowed down a lot. The scales covering their huge bodies became rougher and tougher with age. The older the dragon, the thicker the scales. Even high-explosive giant crossbows could not penetrate the scales of adult dragons from a long distance.

This stage marked the true growth of dragons into 'lords of the sky.'

They had no natural enemies, no threats. The dragon flames they spewed also rose in temperature, melting stubborn rocks. The color would change accordingly with their body color as they entered adulthood.

For example, the dragon flame breathed by Balerion now had reached a deep purple, almost completely evolving into the 'Black Dread.'

His brother Rhaego spewed green dragon flame, and Viserion spewed platinum dragon flame.

If these dragon flames were accompanied by magic, they might be able to forge black stone buildings because they had reached the corresponding temperature. However, there was no corresponding method, and Viserys had not tried it yet.

At this moment, the distant sun gradually sank into the sea.

The Black Dragon Balerion spread his wings and flew over the boundless sea. Countless ships were traversing the sea, and the crew on the ships looked up at the giant dragon in the sky, unable to help but exclaim. Then they heard the roar of the dragon resounding in the sky, spreading far with the sea breeze.

Chapter 757: Novos

The distance from King's Landing to Novos may be vast, requiring several months of normal travel, but for a dragon, such distances pose no challenge.

Viserys, departing from King's Landing, reached Novos in a matter of days, briefly stopping in Pentos to catch up with old friends.

Yet, even so.

As Viserys rode atop the dragon, soaring over the Narrow Sea to Novos, the speed surpassed that of a raven's flight. However, upon arrival, Viserys discovered that this secluded city of monks nestled in the mountains seemed to be hosting a grand funeral. White banners adorned the magnificent structures in the upper city, and massive spirit canopies were visible even from the sky.

However, as the dragon circled Novos's sky, the entire city below erupted in panic.

"Oh, gods!"

"It's a dragon! A dragon!"

For it was hard for the people of Novos not to recall the era dominated by Valyria's Freehold hundreds of years ago.

Although Novos, like Lorath and Loros, was founded by dissenting Valyrian religious believers, led by a bearded priest dissatisfied with Valyria's loose faith, they left the Land of Long Summer and settled in Novos. Here, they established fortresses and temples, buying autonomy from the Freehold and offering yearly tributes. Protected by the Freehold, during the war when the Andals invaded Novos, Valyria sent out hundreds of dragons that instantly obliterated King Collo's formidable Andal army, saving Novos from conquest.

Yet, it was this very war that planted the fear of dragons and Valyria in the hearts of the people of Novos.

Now, with Valyria resurging in the west and the Empire continually expanding, annexing cities like Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh, the people of Novos lived in constant fear. They feared that one day, an army of over a hundred thousand people and eight dragons might suddenly descend upon them, replaying the scene where the Andals were annihilated outside the walls of Novos.

So, when the Black Dread Balerion suddenly appeared in Novos's sky, roaring, many Novosi people and bearded priests were on high alert, and the whole city trembled in the roar of the dragon.

Dong——

Dong——

Dong——

However, at that moment, Novos's three ancient bells, Nuum, Nala, and Niel, all rang simultaneously.

When these three bells, considered by Lomas Longstrider as one of the nine wonders of the world, rang, the entire city could hear them.

Because these bells would instruct every Novosi on what to do at that moment, including waking up, sleeping, working, resting, fighting, praying, and even when to engage in sexual intercourse.

"Assemble!"

"Quick, quick, quick!"

"Prepare to defend!"

Soldiers of the Sacred Guard, wielding long axes, began to assemble, and the entire city in the mountainous hills fell into chaos.

Novos also had a 'Governor's Council,' but it was merely a formality, as all governors were chosen by the gods through priests, with no regularity. Some were noble-born, and some were commoners.

"What should we do?"

A dozen bearded priests stood in front of the ancient temple, somewhat at a loss, for they did not know how to deal with dragons. Their secret god did not tell them; it only instructed them to influence enemies with benevolence.

However, at that moment, the black dragon overhead let out a deafening roar, causing the entire city to tremble. All the Sacred Guard soldiers gripping their long axes had their throats rolling, and their palms were sweaty. At the same time, a black mist suddenly appeared in front of the twelve bearded priests.

Then, a young man with a black cloak, silver-golden hair cascading over his shoulders, walked out from it.

"Good day, everyone."

Hoo~   And the dissipating black mist retracted into the black cloak.

"You are..."

The bearded priest governor of Novos showed a shocked expression because this was a miracle and magic. An old monk with a white beard and slightly gray beard on his face spoke with a tone of respect and then asked.

In fact, Viserys no longer needed to prove his identity.

However, this trip was for a purpose, and after clarifying his identity, he received an unexpected answer.

"He has already died."

"Just a few days ago."

This old monk did not know how many years he had lived, and even the twelve bearded priest governors present did not know. Because many of them did not come from noble families, they only heard from their grandfathers that there was a venerable old monk on the sinners' ladder in the ancient temple.

He was the core of the entire esoteric belief, but even his name and title were unknown.

However, a few days ago, he suddenly died of illness. The incident happened suddenly, and no one could have expected it. Even because there were few disturbances, when he was found, the body had already begun to smell bad. Still, for such an old man, it was normal.

"Illness?"

"Dead?"

Viserys heard this answer and was a little stunned, furrowing his brows.

He did not expect it to be so coincidental. Just a few days before he came to Novos, this 'prophet' of the Essos continent unexpectedly died.

After that, Viserys fell silent for a while, and the twelve bearded priest governors in front of him also looked uneasy. After all, the person in front of them might be the most terrifying person in the entire world. Moreover, the breathtaking performance just now had deterred many of the bearded priests present. The dragon was hovering in the sky, and they did not dare to harbor any evil intentions.

"Can I see him?"

After a while of silence, Viserys suddenly spoke.

"Of course."

"His death is a huge loss for the entire esotericism, and we are all sorrowful."

The old monk who led the way, with gray beard and hair, took the initiative to step forward, slightly bowed, and then led Viserys to the burial place of the old monk.

The grand funeral lasted for several days, and now his body is still in the coffin, not buried yet.

When Viserys arrived at the magnificent spirit hall, the bearded priests present were all nervous, glancing at Viserys with uneasy expressions. It was evident that the scene of the dragon hovering and roaring in the sky just now had frightened many people.

They thought that the Valyrian Empire was about to attack the pure land of Novos.

However, when they saw that only Viserys came here, they couldn't help but move uneasily, and many thoughts arose in their hearts. However, the twelve bearded priest governors did not show any expression. Except for the old monk who led the way, the others obediently followed behind, dispelling their thoughts.

"He rests here now."

Then, the leading old monk turned around and said.

And Viserys did not speak, just nodded slightly. He walked up and looked up and down at the coffin in front of him.

Then, he reached out and suddenly grabbed the coffin lid, directly lifting it.

Chapter 758: Qohor

Viserys' actions were abrupt, flipping open the entirely black coffin, leaving the bearded monks, including the twelve monk governors, in shock.

"Esteemed guest, you..."

The leading old monk among the twelve governors had a sudden change in expression, and everyone present erupted into a buzz of astonishment.

Viserys' actions were undeniably disrespectful. Despite his noble status and the fact that he arrived on a dragon, such behavior of lifting the coffin lid in someone else's memorial hall was unacceptable.

Before these bearded monks could accuse Viserys of his rudeness, their expressions changed when they saw what was inside the coffin.

The entirely black coffin was now empty, the body mysteriously vanished.

"What's going on?"

"Where did the body go?"

The monk governor was furious and interrogated the slave soldiers present, but the soldiers appeared clueless.

With the funeral lasting for three days and nights, with people guarding constantly, it seemed impossible for someone to have taken the body under everyone's watchful eyes.

However, the scene had descended into chaos, with people gossiping and discussing, and Viserys' actions became the focus of attention, now turning into an investigation.

"Apologies, Your Majesty."

"Please allow us to investigate the whereabouts of the body."

"We have prepared a grand feast for you."

At this moment, a bearded monk governor with long hair and beard approached, slightly bowing and extending courtesies.

In Qohor, not everyone was allowed to keep a beard; only the legitimate monks could. Other men, regardless of their background, generally grew long beards without grooming. Women and slaves were not allowed any body hair, and their heads were shaved. Some noble Qohor women would wear wigs.

However, Viserys had come to Qohor to find this elderly monk with prophetic abilities. The prospect of attending a feast didn't interest him much.

Whether the monk was truly dead or avoiding him, Viserys had no means to force the truth.

"No need."

The silver-haired young man in a black cloak spoke calmly.

His 'calm' demeanor was interpreted by others as 'indifferent,' causing internal distress.

Offending the Emperor of the Valyrian Empire, where would his future peaceful days be?

Especially after just claiming the person was dead, but the body had disappeared, raising suspicions of a feigned death.

The upper echelons of Norvos knew this old monk possessed prophetic abilities. Years ago, he predicted the uprising in Qohor, similar to the one that had occurred in Norvos. The Red God's faithful had seized power, slaughtering many noble families in the city.

Just like the Windblown, led by Viserys and the Prince of Pentos, had taken control of Pentos, annihilating most noble houses. The remaining few fled.

Three years ago, Qohor had fallen entirely under the control of the Red God's worshippers, expelling the Black Goat's faith from the city. The other free cities had expelled them too, and they had even reached the borders of the Empire.

However, the Black Goat's faith involved bloody rituals, sacrificing livestock and, when necessary, the lives of criminals. Some Qohor nobles had even offered their own flesh and blood to the Black Goat when the Red God's followers took control.

Years ago, when the Red God's followers secretly planned their uprising, the city's nobles resorted to the most extreme measures, hoping for the Black Goat's protection.

Unfortunately, the Black Goat did not manifest to save its faithful, and the Red God's worshippers emerged victorious, seizing control of the city. Qohor had become a place entirely devoted to the Red God.

Norvos, on the other hand, faced a similar fate. The lower classes harbored discontent against the bearded monk system. Although the bearded monks were a minority ruling the city, most of Norvos' inhabitants were ordinary people, or even slaves.

Many years ago, when the Red God's followers attempted to take over, the system issued a warning. Norvos expelled all Red Priests and Priestesses and thoroughly hunted down lower-class citizens and slave soldiers planning to participate in the rebellion. The uprising was thwarted.

"Could he really have feigned his death?"

The monk governor was distressed, but Viserys paid him no mind. He wasn't in the mood to linger. With a step, he transformed into a black mist, disappearing before everyone's eyes.

Viserys found his dragon and realized that the creature disliked the constructed world of humans, preferring the deep forests and mountains.

While Viserys was a guest in Norvos, Bellerion had flown to a nearby hill to rest. Dense black forests covered the surroundings, housing various trees like beech, oak, pine, and abundant wildlife such as wild boars, brown bears, wolves, and other prey.

During this time, Bellerion casually hunted and killed a brown bear, roasting it with dragon fire, and devoured it, cleaning its teeth afterward.

Now, as Viserys located Bellerion, he frowned slightly.

He sensed a familiar presence.

After careful consideration, he turned his gaze towards the northwest of Norvos, outside the city.

Chapter 759: Gateway to Hell

Viserys felt a mysterious calling, riding his dragon towards a location northwest of Novos, about a hundred miles away, and descended from the sky.

This place was near the Roarlas Bay, still surrounded by the Novos mountain range.

It was a mountainous hollow, densely covered with trees, rarely visited by people. As the massive black dragon passed through, wild animals scattered in panic, as if it were the apocalypse. Then, Bellerion descended from the sky.

"Here."

However, Viserys, looking at the scenery in front of him, furrowed his brows slightly.

Although this place was within the Novos mountain range, it was quite distant from the Novos city-state. However, Viserys could feel the calling from this place even from a distance. As he rode his dragon closer, he could see it clearly.

The reason was simple.

This was a massive sinkhole, a deep abyss that resembled the entrance to the underworld. Looking down from the sky, especially facing the abyss directly, gave an eerie feeling, as if the abyss was staring back at him. However, when Viserys landed and stood at the edge, he noticed numerous caves beneath the sinkhole.

This awe-inspiring natural landscape was no unknown phenomenon. It was undoubtedly the largest sinkhole Viserys had ever seen, even larger than the glimpse he caught of the fourteen Fireblade remnants in the Valyrian ruins.

Due to his photographic memory, after reading numerous books, Viserys only needed a moment to recall what this place was.

"It's 'Long Legs' Lomas."

"This guy has traveled to countless places in his lifetime."

Viserys remembered.

"Lomas traveled the world and wrote two famous books, one called 'Miracles' and the other 'Artificial Miracles.'"

These two books were so famous that they became enlightening readings for many Westerosi noble children, shaping their first impressions of the vast world.

"The gods created seven miracles, but humans created nine."

This was Lomas' most famous saying.

The seven miracles created by the gods were natural landscapes, while the nine created by humans were architectural wonders.

"Novos's sinkhole is one of the seven miracles created by the gods."

"People say this is the entrance to the underworld."

Viserys recalled Lomas' books fondly, especially the last description: 'The people around the sinkhole believe it is the entrance to the underworld.'

These early memories sparked Viserys' curiosity. However, with the passing of time and the increasing complexities of life, he had forgotten about these details.

Unexpectedly, he was now drawn to the surroundings of this sinkhole.

"As expected."

"This place, like the caves suppressed by the Old Gods beyond the Wall, is another bottomless pit."

The locals were not wrong. Some of the bizarre and fantastical mythical stories in this world were not just rumors; some were true.

For example, the people living around Novos claimed that this place was the gateway to the underworld. After careful observation, Viserys confirmed it.

This place was indeed a gateway to an unknown realm. Viserys was unsure if it was the underworld or something else. Still, he was certain that it shared a mysterious connection with the dark mist within him, the bottomless pits beyond the Wall, and the Valyrian ruins.

After Victarion was transported to King's Landing, Melisandre, the red priestess, came to Viserys that night and provided a detailed explanation of 'Darkness and Destruction.'

According to the Red Faith, based on a dualistic worldview, the Lord of Light, R'hllor, was the god of light, heat, and life. His eternal enemy, the Great Other, was the god of darkness, cold, and death.

Their endless struggle determined the fate of humanity.

The battle between the Lord of Light and the Great Other was a war erupting within this world. However, beyond that, there was another powerful force constantly infiltrating.

They were referred to as 'Destruction.'

In the Red Temple in Volantis, there was a wall with the inscription 'Darkness and Destruction,' signifying the two major crises threatening the entire world.

The power of the Great Other brought death, while the will of Destruction aimed to annihilate the entire world, even eradicating the Great Other.

According to the revelations brought by R'hllor, except for R'hllor, all other deities were likely corrupted by the will of Destruction. For example, the Great Other and the Old Gods of the North were probably already contaminated. Only R'hllor remained clear.

Therefore, all Red Faith followers firmly believed in the existence of only one true god in this world. Still, this secret was known only to the high-ranking members of the Red Faith.

Melisandre, coming from Asshai, the true city of magic, where sorcerers, wizards, alchemists, moon singers, red priests, dark sorcerers, necromancers, cloud mages, fire sorcerers, blood witches, torturers, judges, poison masters, priestesses, shadowbinders, faceless men, shapeshifters, and worshippers of the 'Black Goat,' 'Pale Child of the Moon,' and 'Night Lion' were all welcomed.

There were no taboos here. They could freely practice their spells, without restrictions or criticism. As long as they wished, they could conduct obscene rituals, copulate with demons, and discuss things that could not be openly talked about.

Melisandre emerged from there, naturally knowing many things unknown to outsiders. Thus, High Priest Benerro regarded Melisandre as a thorn in his side.

However, he only sent Moqorro to Westeros to pick the fruit, and it was not as easy as he thought.

"But Darkness and Destruction seem to be about to revive together."

Viserys, feeling a restlessness in his heart, stood at the edge of the sinkhole. His silver-golden long hair fluttered in the wind, then he clenched his fist.

Chapter 760: The High Septon

Originally, Viserys flew to Norvos in search of the mysterious monk with prophetic abilities. Unfortunately, by the time Viserys set out, the monk had already departed from the mortal realm.

However, the body in the coffin seemed to have vanished, and given the monk's actual ability to foresee events, it remained uncertain whether he had truly died or feigned death to avoid meeting Viserys.

Even if it were the latter, Viserys did not insist on the monk coming out to meet him. Thus, he boarded the dragon, preparing to leave.

However, at this moment, Viserys sensed the presence of dark mist externally. Following his inner call, he discovered the Norvos Abyss, hailed by the "Long Legs" Lomas as one of the "Seven Wonders Created by the Gods."

Viserys found that this Abyss shared the same origin as the black hole left behind by the collapse of the Fourteen Fire Peaks in the Valyrian ruins.

This Abyss was also a bridge to the underworld.

Viserys even felt an inexplicable urge pushing him to plunge into the embrace of the abyss, with the temptation intensifying. However, he firmly resisted it at the last moment.

"Go!"

The young man with silver-golden hair did not hesitate any longer.

He gave himself no room for hesitation, swiftly turning around, stepping onto Balerion's back, and commanding it to fly away.

Balerion, with its crimson eyes, gazed at the back of its companion. Although it didn't understand what had just happened, it could sense Viserys' inner struggle through the psychic connection.

It joyfully witnessed him overcoming his own will, and the black dragon let out a deep roar.

"Roar..."

Its powerful hind legs forcefully propelled, sweeping away trees with the gusts of wind, carrying Viserys up into the sky, soon disappearing on the horizon.

Meanwhile, in King's Landing.

Viserys had not been away from King's Landing for a long time, not even as long as his so-called "vacation" in Highgarden. Yet, something happened in his absence.

It wasn't a major event, but it couldn't be considered a minor one either.

The chubby High Septon, following the tradition where churchmen had to abandon their family names, had to relinquish his secular name upon assuming the position of High Septon.

This was because people believed that the one holding the office of High Septon was no longer an individual but a spokesperson for the gods in the heavens. However, this tradition made it difficult to distinguish between successive High Septons, and people had to use some descriptive features to refer to a High Septon.

Now, in the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing, the current High Septon was simply called the "Chubby High Septon."

He didn't get into much trouble, just happened to share a bed with a few women involved in the flesh trade. This led to him being directly exposed, dragged out for public humiliation by a group of zealous Seven followers.

They violently opposed anything contrary to the teachings of the Seven, believing that people were born sinful. They besieged brothels, smashed taverns, and spilled alcohol all over the place.

These fanatical Seven worshipers claimed they couldn't tolerate the High Septon's greed and corruption, so they came forward to expose the truth.

Regardless of what punishment awaited them, the reputation of the High Septon was now tarnished. Next, the heads of various dioceses, through joint decision-making of the Conclave, decided to remove the High Septon from his position.

Each diocese was responsible for its own faith, acting as a kind of council within the church, known as the Conclave, with those too far away communicating through ravens.

In normal circumstances, the High Septon would be elected from among the diocesan bishops. However, if necessary, the bishops could also join forces to impeach the High Septon.

Now that the Emperor was not in King's Landing, the diocesan bishops decided to hold a meeting, proceeding to dismiss the High Septon without waiting for Viserys to return.

However, at this moment, a name was directly put forward—Brother Egon.

Although Egon had given up his surname, no one in the church had forgotten his original identity, especially with his iconic silver hair.

Egon was born into the imperial family and voluntarily joined the Seven faith.

While the position of High Septon was often filled from among the diocesan bishops, it wasn't an absolute rule. There were many examples in history, such as a stonemason becoming High Septon during the reign of Baelor I or an eight-year-old becoming High Septon during the same period.

So, the discussion about the next High Septon began in earnest.

Even though the influence of the Seven Faith was diminishing as the empire's territory expanded, absorbing diverse cultures, races, and religious beliefs, the Seven Faith was still the dominant religion in Westeros and the main ethnic group, the Andals. It had the most extensive following and impact.

Egon's name was continuously brought up for public discussion, including the "good deeds" he had done.

For instance, donating the royal family's living expenses to the poor, leading a frugal life, and being willing to entertain himself with the poorest folk in the flea-ridden areas of King's Landing.

Moreover, behind Egon seemed to be powerful figures supporting him. Although they hadn't shown themselves publicly, all of them held significant positions in the empire.

They were capable of making King's Landing tremble with a stomp. Though the high-ranking members of the church were considered noteworthy in the eyes of the commoners, they couldn't withstand the pressure these influential figures could exert.

Therefore, in a short period, from the outbreak of the High Septon's scandal to his removal and the subsequent election of a new High Septon, the entire process was completed swiftly.

As for who would be the next church leader, the competition unfolded intensely.

Although the Seven Faith was declining, a thin camel was still larger than a horse. It remained the predominant religion among the Westerlands and the Andals, with the largest number of followers and the widest range of influence.

The name of Brother Egon was repeatedly mentioned and openly discussed. Various "good deeds" were recounted, such as his charitable donations and his willingness to mingle with the common folk in the poorest neighborhoods of King's Landing.

It seemed that Egon's silver hair had also played a role in making him stand out. Born into the imperial family, he willingly embraced the Seven Faith, which added a touch of mystery and fascination to his candidacy.

Even though the usual practice was to elect the High Septon from among the diocesan bishops, exceptions had occurred throughout history. For instance, during the reign of Baelor I, a stonemason became High Septon, and an eight-year-old ascended to the position during the same period.

Now, discussions about the next High Septon became heated.

Chapter 761: Brother Aegon

"Uncle Viserys."

In the gardens of King's Landing, the Red Keep.

Since Aegon left the Red Keep to join the Great Sept of Baelor, he rarely returned. Apart from occasional visits from his sister Rhaenyis and his uncle Oberyn, the rest of his time was spent in diligent study within the Sept.

His dreams and ambitions had gradually waned amid the rigorous training in the Sept. Young Aegon grew up understanding his position and abandoning unrealistic fantasies, becoming more composed and decisive.

However, upon seeing his powerful uncle once again, his heart couldn't help but accelerate. Sweating, his hand clenched within the sleeves of his gray robe.

Aegon's nervousness stemmed from various reasons—some akin to a child facing a parent after misdeeds, others a result of the imposing aura making him instinctively lower his head.

Viserys was Aegon's idol. Although Aegon never openly spoke about it, in his heart, his uncle outshone even his father Rhaegar, the 'Silver Prince.' Despite Rhaegar's widespread popularity, he ultimately lost battles, losing the Iron Throne for House Targaryen. These were the very victories Viserys reclaimed.

Growing up under royal education, Aegon learned to be an exceptional ruler before even mastering walking. Viserys, yet without an heir, fueled Aegon's ambition.

However, these aspirations led him to relinquish his birthright, becoming a monk, when Rhaenyis bore a son for Viserys. It shattered Aegon's last remaining ambition.

Yet, to his surprise, Viserys didn't blame him.

"Aegon, do you want to be the High Septon?"

Viserys stood on the walls of the Red Keep, overlooking the endless Blackwater Bay. Ships queued in the harbor, and the port of King's Landing buzzed with activity.

When Aegon heard his uncle's question, he hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath to steady his racing heart, then, looking at Viserys' back, nodded and spoke.

"Yes, Uncle. I want to be the High Septon."

Aegon's lies never escaped Viserys' scrutiny from childhood. The child, scarred by being exposed every time, learned a lesson.

However, growing up, Aegon faced Viserys' web of lies within the Church, took a breath, and admitted without deceit.

Surprisingly, Viserys didn't reproach him.

"Why?"

At that moment, Aegon finally heard Viserys' voice, like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Because I can't stand their ways."

"Uncle Viserys."

Viserys calmly asked for the reason behind Aegon's actions. Having experienced the recent events, Aegon, with a clearer mind, took another deep breath.

"I may not turn the Church into an extremist cult like the Sparrows, but I should at least make it fulfill its rightful role. It should be a sanctuary for believers, protecting the suffering populace, easing conflicts, and stabilizing society, not a machine for plundering wealth."

Aegon didn't hide his past association with the Sparrows. In his youth, aspiring to be the heir apparent, he sought support from the Sparrows to gain favor with the common people. However, Viserys vehemently opposed.

If this happened years ago, Aegon might have vehemently denied any connection to the Sparrows. However, today, enlightened by recent events, he realized what he should do.

Viserys, knowing the truth, turned slightly to look at Aegon. Once again, Aegon's heart raced, breath quickened, facing the Emperor's gaze.

"Why?"

At that moment, Aegon finally heard Viserys' voice, like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Because I can't stand their ways."

"Uncle Viserys."

Viserys calmly asked for the reason behind Aegon's actions. Having experienced the recent events, Aegon, with a clearer mind, took another deep breath.

"I may not turn the Church into an extremist cult like the Sparrows, but I should at least make it fulfill its rightful role. It should be a sanctuary for believers, protecting the suffering populace, easing conflicts, and stabilizing society, not a machine for plundering wealth."

Aegon didn't hide his past association with the Sparrows. In his youth, aspiring to be the heir apparent, he sought support from the Sparrows to gain favor with the common people. However, Viserys vehemently opposed.

If this happened years ago, Aegon might have vehemently denied any connection to the Sparrows. However, today, enlightened by recent events, he realized what he should do.

Viserys, knowing the truth, turned slightly to look at Aegon. Once again, Aegon's heart raced, breath quickened, facing the Emperor's gaze.

"Why?"

At that moment, Aegon finally heard Viserys' voice, like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Because I can't stand their ways."

"Uncle Viserys."

Viserys calmly asked for the reason behind Aegon's actions. Having experienced the recent events, Aegon, with a clearer mind, took another deep breath.

"I may not turn the Church into an extremist cult like the Sparrows, but I should at least make it fulfill its rightful role. It should be a sanctuary for believers, protecting the suffering populace, easing conflicts, and stabilizing society, not a machine for plundering wealth."

Aegon didn't hide his past association with the Sparrows. In his youth, aspiring to be the heir apparent, he sought support from the Sparrows to gain favor with the common people. However, Viserys vehemently opposed.

If this happened years ago, Aegon might have vehemently denied any connection to the Sparrows. However, today, enlightened by recent events, he realized what he should do.

Viserys, knowing the truth, turned slightly to look at Aegon. Once again, Aegon's heart raced, breath quickened, facing the Emperor's gaze.

"Why?"

At that moment, Aegon finally heard Viserys' voice, like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Because I can't stand their ways."

"Uncle Viserys."

Viserys calmly asked for the reason behind Aegon's actions. Having experienced the recent events, Aegon, with a clearer mind, took another deep breath.

"I may not turn the Church into an extremist cult like the Sparrows, but I should at least make it fulfill its rightful role. It should be a sanctuary for believers, protecting the suffering populace, easing conflicts, and stabilizing society, not a machine for plundering wealth."

Aegon didn't hide his past association with the Sparrows. In his youth, aspiring to be the heir apparent, he sought support from the Sparrows to gain favor with the common people. However, Viserys vehemently opposed.

If this happened years ago, Aegon might have vehemently denied any connection to the Sparrows. However, today, enlightened by recent events, he realized what he should do.

Viserys, knowing the truth, turned slightly to look at Aegon. Once again, Aegon's heart raced, breath quickened, facing the Emperor's gaze.

"Why?"

Chapter 762: Jeyne

Aegon chose to confess his thoughts, then anxiously awaited the outcome.

He had no idea how his uncle Viserys would punish him. However, what surprised Aegon was that after Viserys listened, he cast a different look at him for the first time—a look that contained praise and more complex thoughts.

"Very well."

"Since that's the case, the position of the High Septon is yours, Aegon."

Viserys patted Aegon's shoulder and said no more.

He did not punish Aegon. In his eyes, the current High Septon was corrupt. If it weren't for his obedience, Viserys would have dealt with him long ago.

Afterwards, Viserys, accompanied by his squire Robb, left the city wall. Robb also glanced at Aegon before leaving, leaving him alone, staring blankly at his uncle's departing figure.

The power structure of the empire was solidifying. The soldiers and knights who had made contributions in the early days of conquest had mostly become nobles. Thanks to Viserys's lenient noble policy, after winning two conquest wars and conquering the Seven Kingdoms, he granted a large number of noble titles. The number of nobles in the Seven Kingdoms reached an explosive peak.

Former nobles, even knightly families, now had their own castles or villages. However, many soldiers of humble origin also caught the wave of the times, transforming into "peasant nobles."

Though their territories were mostly just farmland, it symbolized a class transition and a change in status.

But in recent years, as the empire gradually stabilized and refrained from launching wars, the number of new nobles sharply decreased. Due to new regulations, war was the best way to create nobles. Those once "mudfoot" nobles were gradually finding their footing.

Despite their humble origins, once they became nobles, their identities underwent a disconnect.

Thus, a phenomenon of mutual protection and other similar relations began emerging among the high ranks of the empire.

This was a social issue and, at the same time, a human one.

Nowadays, the higher-ups of the empire had already completed their identity changes.

"Your Grace, Lord Myles Toyne is seriously ill, and his health is deteriorating. Perhaps he is considering resigning as Hand of the King."

Highgarden, the exclusive garden of the imperial family.

After touring Essos, Viserys returned to King's Landing, but after a few days, he returned to Highgarden.

Highgarden was now Viserys's main office. The empire's operation mainly relied on the high-ranking ministers of the Small Council, who personally managed affairs. Important decisions still required consultation with the Emperor.

Viserys sat in Highgarden, overseeing the vast empire he had built, spanning the Narrow Sea.

However, most of the high-ranking ministers of the Small Council remained in King's Landing. After all, King's Landing was still the political core of the empire. But one person followed Viserys wherever he went, like a dog—Lord Ramsay Bolton, the Count of Harrenhal, and the Chief of the Interior Department. As one of Viserys's earliest followers, Ramsay had done a lot of work for Viserys. Moreover, many of the things Ramsay did for Viserys were too numerous to count, and he knew that no matter how many people disliked and hated him, as long as he didn't fall out of favor with the Emperor, no one could touch him.

When the incident of Qyburn dissecting corpses spread, many people in King's Landing were indignant. However, what was the result? Qyburn was virtually unscathed and almost regained his status as a maester.

But now, whether Qyburn regained his status as a maester or not was no longer important.

Because Ramsay knew Qyburn's position in Viserys's heart. Qyburn was also a member of the Interior Department, joining the special agency when he was brought to King's Landing by Emperor Viserys.

However, Qyburn's status and position were special. He was a special talent, and naturally couldn't be used as an ordinary agent. Many of Qyburn's sources of corpses and living people were arranged and handled by Ramsay.

So, as a lowly-born illegitimate son, Ramsay eventually became the Count of Harrenhal, even wielding the power of life and death, becoming one of the most untouchable people in the empire. Some people would rather offend the Hand of the King than offend Ramsay.

As for Lord Myles Toyne's current serious illness and his intention to resign, it wasn't unexpected.

Jon Connington, the governor of the Westerlands, had never been in good health. When he was still the commander of the Golden Company, he had some old injuries. Occasionally, these old injuries would flare up, tormenting him half to death.

In fact, if according to the original trajectory, Myles Toyne should have died from illness in the year 296 of Aegon's Landing. Now, he had lived three more years, which wasn't a loss.

But Myles Toyne didn't have to worry about leaving no one behind. Several years ago, he married a beautiful Westerlands girl from a noble family who gave birth to his son.

The Toyne family had no foundation in the Westerlands. Although many Westerlands nobles had suffered heavy losses in the turmoil and wars many years ago, and many had disappeared into the river of history, the Toyne family found it challenging to completely replace the Lannister family's position, ruling Casterly Rock and the Westerlands.

So, Myles Toyne adopted the simplest and most effective method: marrying a Westerlands girl.

However, this seemingly simple request was not easy.

Because of the war, the Westerlands people, led by Duke Tywin, resisted tenaciously. Queen Rhaenyra, riding the dragon Rhaegal, soared in the Westerlands' sky for several months, continuously setting fires to cities, villages, and forests.

Therefore, many Westerlands people, although they had given up resistance and become citizens of the empire, still harbored hatred for the Targaryen family. After all, many of their relatives and friends had died in that brutal war, and it took time to calm their hearts. The Westerlands was one of the most unstable places on the empire's map.

And Myles Toyne was seen as representing the Targaryen family's rule in the Westerlands. Although Westerlands nobles would not openly resist, it was not easy for the Toyne family to rule the Westerlands smoothly.

So, when Myles Toyne wanted to marry a suitable Westerlands girl, he encountered obstacles.

After all, Myles Toyne had a well-known ugly appearance. Many women were frightened away when they saw his appearance—big nose, crooked jaw, and jug-shaped ears. Many women ran away when they saw his appearance.

Moreover, he was not young anymore but asked for a young and beautiful Westerlands girl as his wife, aged under twenty.

After all, besides his illegitimate children in Essos, Myles Toyne also needed a legitimate heir with a recognized status. His future wife must have reproductive ability, be able to bear children for him, and ideally be a little beautiful, to offset Myles Toyne's ugly appearance genes.

However, at this time, there was a long-established noble family in the Westerlands, now declining with the changing times, approaching Myles Toyne.

They urgently needed the Westerlands governor to restore their family's former status. Therefore, the family head agreed to marry his eldest daughter to Myles Toyne.

The girl who later married Myles Toyne was Jeyne Westerling.

Chapter 763: Changes in the Small Council

As a declining noble house in need of revival, House Westerling was a perfect match with the newly risen Toyne family ruling the Westerlands. Meanwhile, House Toyne required a bloodline of sufficient prestige with an enduring legacy to aid their governance.

Thus, this chestnut-haired, shy yet beautiful girl married Myles Toyne - the Warden of the West and Hand of the King. Two years ago, she bore him a son named Jon, after Toyne's longtime friend Jon Connington who had perished from a cold arrow leading troops to quell rebels in Dorne.

Jon Connington's posthumous son had already been born by now, a four year old child who inherited lordship of House Connington as the Earl of Griffin's Roost. But he did not inherit the position of Warden of the Stormlands - after all, appointing a toddler as governor would make the new policies a laughingstock.

Jon Connington's son was named Aegon - Aegon Connington.

That had been Jon's own wish, but as a soul without tangible form, he could not express it directly. Thus, the name was bestowed on the child through imperial decree instead, by Viserys.

As for the post of Warden of the Stormlands, it now belonged to Ser Davos the Onion Knight.

He presently held the highest authority among Stormlands nobles. And as the saying went - revenge could wait ten years. Davos had avenged Stannis previously by killing the three nobles who had humiliated Stannis' corpse at Griffin's Roost, thereby establishing his might in the Stormlands and winning the respect of its nobles too.

In truth, Myles Toyne had only considered resigning without formally proposing it to Viserys yet. This was information Ramsay somehow caught wind of from unknown sources.

Toyne was still hesitating. In private, he had discussed it with his confidantes because even if he relinquished his Handship, he would have to remain in King's Landing to recuperate given his frail condition.

He had left Casterly Rock in his family steward's hands to manage and brought his wife, child Jenny Westerling, and little Jon Toyne with him to the capital.

King's Landing had the sole public hospital across the empire's territory presently, with the best doctors around owing to imperial favor. Toyne's treatments came from none other than Grand Measter Ambrose - director of the Imperial College of Medicine since the Citadel's dismantling, marked by the silver collar around his neck.

Feeling too weak to keep working despite resigning as Hand, Toyne had no thoughts of leaving King's Landing.

Indeed, many imperial nobles lived out their golden years in the capital now thanks to the Imperial Medical College.

"If Toyne submits his resignation, approve it and summon Willas Tyrell, the Governor of Gulltown to King's Landing."

Inside his study at Highgarden, Viserys stood on the open marble terrace with one hand on the splendid golden railing, gazing at the endless golden floral sea in the distance as he spoke without turning back:

Viserys had known of Toyne's health issues all along, yet he never considered intervening, though he certainly had the means to prolong Toyne's life. But after his last chat with the Children about progressing civilization too quickly per Leaf's advice, he had dismissed the notion for now.

He did not want to overly interfere with this world's natural development. Things should evolve by their innate principles. Forcing rapid advancement risked unforeseen consequences.

As an ancient species that had lived for countless millennia, the Children of the Forest saw deeper than short-lived humans.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Kneeling on the ground, Ramsay promptly nodded at Viserys' words.

Others might be unaware, but as a loyal hound Ramsay naturally knew Willas Tyrell enjoyed imperial favor.

Some years ago Willas had been assigned as the Governor of Gulltown, leaving the imperial capital to sharpen his skills independently as a test.

And he had not disappointed Viserys' trust - already shedding the ostentatious trappings of his heritage as the Highgarden heir during his tenure as Imperial Tax Collector. Willas had walked a completely different path from his grandmother, becoming a highly pragmatic and capable imperial official instead.

In his years governing Gulltown, Willas had fully exercised his scholarly talents, also benefiting from lessons and experience as the tax collector. He aggressively developed commerce, constructed harbors, expanded urban scale.

He had even applied to the Small Council to establish a hospital, making contact with the Imperial Medical College to construct an imposing building in downtown Gulltown, designating it the second city after King's Landing with a public hospital.

The imperial Small Council had also chosen Gulltown to pioneer broader education.

Presently, entry to the Imperial Academy still required social connections and recommendations. Commoners could not easily attend unless nobly-born.

But the trial reforms at Gulltown involved schooling eligibility for children of appropriate age upon paying certain fees.

While commoners might not always afford the fees, those able to enroll remained nobles and wealthy merchants for now. Still, the path ahead lay in gradual progress - oversized steps risked falls.

Overall, Willas Tyrell had performed remarkably governing Gulltown over the years. The city thrived under his lead as a pillar of agriculture and economy for the Riverlands.

Thus, when Toyne fell ill, recalling Willas Tyrell back to King's Landing as a successor made perfect sense now.

Kneeling on the ground, Ramsay secretly guessed at the emperor's thoughts. But just then, Viserys seemed to recall something else and continued:

"I heard the Master of Coin Illyrio took a fall some time ago?"

On a recent inspection of Blackwater Bay's harbor, Illyrio had slipped off his mount before many onlookers - reportedly falling hard.

Thus, when Viserys returned to King's Landing, Illyrio hid home pretending injury instead of meeting him.

Viserys did not bring up the matter, only summoning Aegon over for a chat.

Unsure why the emperor suddenly mentioned this, Ramsay blinked in surprise.

"Indeed, Your Majesty. Lord Illyrio fell off his horse unfortunately, witnessed by many."

"Though Lord Illyrio does not ride often, always traveling by carriage or palanquin. Unknown why he whimsically chose to mount a horse that day before his fall."

"I see."

"Quite unlucky."

Standing on the white marble terrace gazing at the setting sun in the distance, Viserys nodded slightly.

Without connecting the fragments, it would be difficult to suspect anything amiss about this incident. But then a breezy remark drifted down...

"Very well."

"When Toyne hands over his resignation, have Illyrio keep him company at home on sick leave too."

Viserys' voice was calm. Kneeling opposite him, Ramsay stiffened at those words, his expression shifting subtly.

Chapter 764: Diana

Aside from some unforeseen events, such as the former Stormland governor Jon Connington falling to an arrow during the Dornish rebellion, the current Hand of the King, Myles Toyne, expressed his desire to resign due to health reasons.

The other members of the Small Council still maintained the appearance of the early days of the empire, with only a few new positions added, without anyone being replaced.

Now, His Majesty the Emperor suddenly ordered the current Master of Coin, Illyrio, who had recently fallen from grace, to return home for a period of rest. While it wasn't a direct removal from his position, it served as a stern warning.

The next time might not be as lenient.

Recalling the recent events...

The Master of Whisperers, Ramsay, had an unparalleled ability to gather information throughout King's Landing. There was hardly any news that could escape his notice.

He was well aware of Illyrio's involvement in royal affairs. However, it seemed to have crossed a line for the Emperor. While the Emperor could forgive and tolerate Aegon, he couldn't overlook Illyrio's actions.

At that time, Ramsay believed the Emperor forgave Aegon, even appointing him as the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven. It seemed Illyrio had escaped scrutiny, but fate had other plans.

Yet, Ramsay felt no sympathy for Illyrio. His role and unique position prevented him from forming friendships with any influential members of the Small Council.

"Your Majesty."

The young man with dark hair and a pale face heard Varys's words. A shadowy smile appeared on his lips as he bowed once again and then retreated.

Highgarden, the imperial royal garden, no longer bore the scars of war. The walls were freshly painted, sword marks smoothed out, and the garden was adorned with exotic flowers and plants, resembling a natural paradise. Courtyards, ponds, and artificial waterfalls adorned the entire castle. Marble sculptures, fountains, and columns decorated the castle, with vines and roses adorning the walls.

From the tower of Highgarden, one could see all the estates and fields for miles around. The fields were full of flowers and golden roses.

In the sky above this wilderness, a red dragon with a body tens of meters long soared, covered in fiery red scales. Its majestic head, powerful body—its appearance was so formidable that it was hard to believe it was a female dragon.

On the balcony of Highgarden's white marble tower, Varys stood, basking in the golden sunlight of the setting sun, watching the red dragon circling and roaring in the sky. Ramsay had already left, and the room was now empty.

At that moment, the sound of the door opening suddenly came from outside Varys's study. A woman with silver hair walked in, wearing a sandy-yellow dress and adorned with golden jewelry.

"She looks a lot like your Belaerys, doesn't she?"

The newcomer was none other than Arianne Martell, the Grand Empress of the Empire. She approached her husband, placing her hand on the golden railing, and spoke softly.

The Empire's empress had lustrous black curly hair, olive-toned skin, large eyes, and hung by her ears were gorgeous golden earrings. She wore a sandy-yellow gown with a revealing neckline, and a shining golden necklace with a dazzling ruby hung between her ample breasts.

After more than seven years of marriage, Arianne's temperament had become increasingly mature and stable, resembling an empress who ruled the world.

Beyond her regal demeanor, the former Princess of Dorne still retained the charm and grace, making her a captivating figure.

"Yes."

Seeing his wife approaching, Varys turned his head to look at her, then reached out to hold her soft hand, glancing once again at the red dragon circling overhead.

"Vaegar is truly worthy of being the eldest sister of the five dragons back then. She indeed possesses the demeanor of an elder sister."

Varys, holding Arianne's hand, gently embraced her into his arms, smelling the fragrance on her, and added.

"Just like you... and Diana."

Arianne couldn't help but chuckle, covering her mouth.

As the eldest princess of Dorne, Arianne was supposed to inherit Dorne due to the kingdom's culture and customs, but her father, Prince Doran, did not want Arianne to inherit Dorne. Therefore, he used her as a political marriage gift and married her to Varys.

However, Varys rose in the East and even recaptured the Iron Throne from Westeros, proving that Prince Doran's judgment was accurate.

As for Varys and Arianne's daughter, Diana, although she was still young at the age of six, she had already shown the dangerous temperament inherited from her mother.

Diana's character was strong. She disliked wearing dresses that girls of her age liked and preferred simple and comfortable coats and trousers. While most girls her age had grown their hair, Diana still sported short silver-gold hair.

Moreover, she refused to learn the skills of embroidery and how to be an elegant and noble princess from court ladies. Instead, she preferred to practice swordsmanship with her father's two attendants, Robb Stark and Jonadry.

The female knights of the Imperial Iron Guard were her teachers.

Although Diana's personality was lively and active, she couldn't be classified as a tomboy. She perfectly inherited her father's beautiful silver-gold short hair, sparkling like the sun, and her pair of crystal-clear, light purple eyes were even more pure and translucent than her aunt Daenerys Targaryen's bloodline.

Little Diana Targaryen was undoubtedly a stunning beauty, and anyone who had seen this little princess could foresee that she would undoubtedly become a beauty in the future.

Of course, the premise was that she was willing to wear long dresses.

Fortunately, facing the obvious problem with their daughter, Varys and Arianne, as easygoing individuals, were at a loss. This was their first child, and they were reluctant to scold her.

But fortunately, Varys and Arianne were both easygoing individuals, and their perspective was more open-minded than people of this era. Arianne had spent seven years sleeping with Varys, and her views were influenced. In the end, the two of them chose to let it be.

"Roar—"

"Vaegar, charge!"

Now, Varys and Arianne, husband and wife, embraced each other on the tower of Highgarden.

Hoo~ In the sky, the silver-haired girl tightly grasped the saddle strap on Vaegar's back, and the wind on the cloud stirred her hair. Her beautiful eyes bent into crescents.

Chapter 765: Miscarriage

A sigh echoed through the air as the silver-haired Princess Diana Targaryen descended from the azure sky atop Vhagar, the mighty dragon, her hair dancing in the wild wind above.

Viserys, clad in a silver-threaded attire with a sigil adorning his chest, stood beside his two wives, Arianne and Rhaenys. They watched quietly as the girl descended from the dragon's back in the Highgarden garden.

"Daddy!"

Little Diana's eyes lit up at the sight of Viserys. With her fair and tender arms grabbing onto the dragon scales, she gracefully hopped down, rushing towards Viserys.

On the other side, the massive red female dragon, Vhagar, who managed to lie in the open space of the garden, turned its head upon seeing its 'sister' Diana leaping down. The colossal, fearsome head lifted slightly, emitting a rumbling sound from its throat.

"Ho."

Vhagar gazed at Viserys, and in its crimson eyes, there was a semblance of human-like emotion. These five dragons were initially found by the then-maid Mia and brought out by Viserys, who personally hatched them with the power of his blood.

Thus, these dragons regarded Viserys as their father. Although dragons were highly intelligent beings, they still possessed many animalistic thoughts. They developed affectionate emotions toward Viserys.

Now that the five dragons had grown, not yet fully mature but approaching it, they were rightfully called 'young dragons.'

Perhaps due to the fact that they were hatched by Viserys using his blood, in the presence of their father, these dragons, regardless of their size, were always considered children. Viserys occasionally referred to them as the 'Five Little Ones.'

However, in the eyes of others, these once little dragons were now undisputed masters of the skies, each with its own nickname, such as Vhagar, known as the 'Red Queen.'

While incidents of dragon theft occurred in Andalos, it was unimaginable now. Even if these five dragons were allowed to roam freely, no one dared to come and steal them.

Although Viserys had minimal constraints on these dragons, the Imperial Forest was spacious enough to contain them, with no issues of territory. After all, dragons were inherently social creatures.

The strongest dragon became the 'head of the family,' offering protection to others. Even if there were other male dragons in the family, there would be no internal conflict.

This showcased the high intelligence of the dragon family. They even understood the concept of respecting the elderly and nurturing the young, albeit related to their increasing size with age.

With the growth of the five young dragons, these dragons living in the Imperial Forest occasionally soared into the sky. Yet, within a few days, they always returned home.

They had already considered this place their home.

"Daddy!"

Diana jumped down from the dragon, her dazzling silver-gold short hair fluttering. She ran towards Viserys and hugged him tightly.

"Diana."

Viserys smiled, picking up his daughter and placing her on his arm. Diana kissed her father's cheek lightly.

"Oops."

"Beard, itchy."

Diana looked at Viserys with a slightly disgusted expression. Apparently, Viserys hadn't shaved cleanly this morning, causing discomfort to his little daughter.

"Daddy, switch sides."

Then, Diana asked Viserys to switch sides. The girl's clear, lilac eyes earnestly examined her father's cheek, searching for a spot without stubble before giving it a gentle kiss, satisfied.

"Mother."

Diana turned to the two women standing behind her father—her mother Arianne and her 'aunt' Rhaenys.

"Aunt Rhaenys."

For Diana, who was still young, it was puzzling why her father married her aunt, and even more confusing that they had a son.

However, later, Diana heard from her grandfather, the Grand Maester who taught her knowledge, casually mentioned that her aunt was, in fact, supposed to be of the same generation as her. This left Diana bewildered, but she didn't dwell too much on these matters. Although she was young, she already revealed a straightforward personality. Whatever the adults asked her to call them, she just did.

"Listen, Diana. You are still young, and riding dragons is dangerous."

Seeing her daughter jump off the dragon, Arianne, although expecting it, couldn't help frowning. Her voice carried a hint of severity.

Sitting on Viserys's arm, the beautiful little girl heard her mother's words and involuntarily shrunk her neck. She wasn't afraid of her father but was somewhat afraid of her mother.

Due to Viserys's busy schedule, he rarely had the chance to personally discipline Diana. Thus, the responsibility of educating Diana fell on Arianne's shoulders. Moreover, Arianne had a fiery temper, strict but sexy, especially after the miscarriage incident. Diana naturally felt a bit afraid of her mother.

Arianne got pregnant earlier than Rhaenys, and she might have had the chance to give Viserys a firstborn son. Unfortunately, due to an accident, Arianne had a miscarriage. Since then, she hadn't been able to conceive again. These events caused the once-noble Dornish princess to have a slightly imbalanced temperament.

But after a few years, Arianne's personality had gradually returned to normal.

In this era with backward medical conditions, even the royal family couldn't avoid the occasional tragedy of unexpected miscarriages. Difficult births and miscarriages were normal occurrences for aristocratic families, and for commoners, giving birth was akin to crossing the threshold of the underworld.

On the other side, the small queen with long brown hair and an elegant figure saw Diana being scolded by Arianne and couldn't help but show an embarrassed yet polite smile.

However, Diana, who was nestled in Viserys's arms, noticed this scene, pouted her little mouth.

Diana got along well with her aunt. She had Arianne's danger but also possessed Rhaenys's liveliness and playfulness.

"I'll go play with my little brother."

Chapter 766: Chestnut Hair and Purple Eyes

Diana dared not argue with her mother, silently hopping down from Viserys' embrace. She then ran to the side, pulling up her younger brother, a brown-haired little boy kneeling by the pool, quietly observing the goldfish swimming.

Her brother, Herlos, had a quiet temperament, lacking the lively and playful nature typical of children. Unlike his mischievous sister, he seemed to have a natural inclination towards solitude.

Kneeling there, he had no presence at all. Even the descent and departure of dragons failed to capture his attention. Herlos was engrossed in observing the activities of the goldfish. His focused nature was similar to Viserys. When deeply involved in something, he tended to ignore everything else.

This trait resembled Viserys, whose thoughts could unintentionally pass an entire day when engrossed in a matter. However, Herlos was nothing like his mother, Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, when young, was a troublemaker, only becoming more restrained as she grew older.

"Huh?"

Suddenly, Diana, watching the brown-haired boy by the pool with a hint of distraction, was unexpectedly pulled up by her sister.

"The bond between these siblings."

"Is truly wonderful."

On the other side, three adults watched as Diana played with the reluctantly engaged Herlos. After a brief silence, Rhaenyra couldn't help but smile.

Observing this scene, the olive-skinned, elegantly dressed Grand Queen had a subtle change in expression. The sight reminded her of the days when she and her brother Quentin Martell played in the flowing water garden outside Sunspear.

There too were fountains, pools, gardens, and their age difference was similar to Diana and Herlos.

It was a perfect childhood, free from desires, demands, or the machinations of adults. There existed only a profound affection between two siblings.

"They are like the moon and the sun."

Diana and Herlos' names were given by Viserys, representing the moon and sun gods in some civilization. Though Rhaenyra and Arianne did not know which civilization Viserys referred to, they understood his vast knowledge and photographic memory, refraining from questioning to avoid exposing their limited knowledge.

"Viserys, perhaps—"

Arianne, dressed in sandy yellow chiffon, accentuating her figure with a tight-fitting bodice, gold earrings dangling from her earlobes, appeared noble and mysterious under the setting sun. Her expression changed subtly at the scene, reminiscent of her and her brother Quentin Martell playing in the water garden outside Yronwood.

There, too, were fountains, pools, gardens, and the age gap between them was similar to Diana and Herlos.

It was also a perfect childhood, without desires, demands, or the intrigues of adults—only a deep bond between two siblings.

"Viserys, perhaps—"

Arianne's words were cut short as Viserys, hearing her, slightly furrowed his brows, then relaxed, and spoke.

"Alright."

"I understand."

On the other side, Arianne also realized that bringing up this matter at the moment might be too early. She nodded slightly and remained silent.

The two queens of Viserys had distinct personalities and appearances.

Princess Daenerys had a fiery temper, strict but emotional, more seductive and better-shaped than Rhaenyra.

The young queen's personality was lively and playful, with a slender and graceful figure. Rhaenyra was slightly taller than Arianne.

Both women were of noble lineage. Viserys, after marrying the two queens, treated them equally, without favoritism.

Spending a night with Rhaenyra would mean spending a night with Arianne. Favored or scorned, this had always been the root cause of harem disputes. Viserys did not want turmoil in his harem.

Fortunately, his two wives were sensible, not resorting to the various methods used by past queens to vie for the attention of their shared husband, or even resorting to harm each other.

The fact that the Emperor married two queens had caused a small-scale controversy within the Empire, mainly due to the dissatisfaction of the faithful of the Faith of the Seven.

According to the teachings of the Faith of the Seven, one should follow the monogamous system. Wives should be loyal to their husbands, and vice versa. Otherwise, it would be considered a sin of bigamy, and the traditional customs of the Targaryen family were also considered sinful in the eyes of the church.

In history, there have been several conflicts due to this issue, the most famous being the uprising of the Faith Militant in 41 AC.

This chaos and war caused turmoil in the country, rivers of blood flowed, three kings were replaced, and the final result was that the Targaryen family suppressed the uprising with blood and fire, permanently dissolving the Sons of the Warrior and the Poor Fellows.

Therefore, Viserys in recent years has become increasingly intolerant of the church's behavior, especially the fanatic Seven worshipers.

He suppressed the fanatical believers, such as the sparrows, without hesitation, dispatching the special agents of the Ministry of Internal Affairs to continuously hunt down these people until they were completely killed, killing them until they dared not resist.

The Red God Church in this regard appeared very clever. The red-robed monks, in accordance with the will of the Emperor, continuously extolled the benefits of marrying multiple queens, which made Viserys more satisfied.

In this traditional era, it was not unacceptable for men to be lustful, especially when they were kings and emperors. Few kings in history had only one queen, and most of them had several lovers privately.

For example, King Maekar I had six wives, and 'Fool King' Aegon IV claimed to have slept with nine hundred women, although he might not have the ability with his body. There were still nine public mistresses.

Viserys also admitted that he married Rhaenyra for desire. In addition to his two wives, he also had many lovers. It's just that outsiders rarely know.

As for the problem of the hair color of his son Herlos Targaryen, it was unexpected to Viserys.

He and Daenerys's daughter Diana perfectly inherited the blood characteristics of the Targaryen family—silver hair, purple eyes, and closeness to dragons.

However, the eldest son born to Rhaenyra, who possessed half of Rhaegar's blood, only inherited the characteristic of purple eyes, not the visible characteristic of the Targaryen family—silver-gold hair.

Chapter 767: Daenerys

Viseris was certain that the child was his son, as he trusted his wife Rhaenys. However, Rhaenys did not have purple eyes; her eyes were dark. And little Haelos also showed an affinity for dragons.

It was a matter of genetic probability. Children were gifts of fate, and perfection could not be guaranteed.

Once, the second of the five dragonets, the golden Tyrex, shimmering like the sun, became the companion of little Haelos after his sister Vaeghar chose Diana. Diana was now the Captain of the Fury.

The other dragons, the deep blue female dragon Miraxys, the beautiful 'little lady' crystal dragon Syrakys, and the youngest brother 'Silver Nugget,' all dared not compete with their second brother.

The 'Red Queen' Vaeghar was the fiercest elder sister, followed by the proud Tyrex. Tyrex had a majestic presence with its golden scales shining like the sun in the clear sky.

It hatched just a step behind Diana, making it the second.

Vaeghar and Tyrex did grow noticeably faster than the other dragons, both in strength and size.

As for the other dragon, the youngest brother Silver Nugget, due to his congenital deficiency, showed signs of weakness and even seemed on the verge of dying.

But Viseris saved its life with black mist, though the aftereffects of using the black mist had not yet manifested, and Viseris was unsure about it.

After experiencing a 'kidnapping' incident, Silver Nugget also grew significantly, becoming braver and more fierce than before, no longer staying quietly in the corner.

However, little Haelos did show a noticeable lack of 'talent' compared to his sister.

His relationship with his companion Tyrex progressed not as quickly, rather progressing slowly, like a gentle stream.

Of course, perhaps Haelos's talent wasn't lacking; it's just that Diana's talent was so exceptional that Haelos seemed 'unremarkable' in comparison.

Actually, looking at the history of House Targaryen, Haelos was not late in bonding with dragons.

He even surpassed many others. Haelos could not be considered as having mediocre talent; it was just that Diana's talent was higher.

"Viseris, what do you want for dinner tonight?"

"I'll have Chris arrange it."

While watching little Diana and her son playing in the fountain garden at Highgarden, Rhaenys slightly withdrew her gaze. The sun overhead was gradually setting, and dinner time was approaching.

Chris was the royal chef on this side of Highgarden, also the former chef of House Tyrell. He cooked excellent dishes.

Currently, the steward of Highgarden was Garls Tyrell, the uncle of the deceased Duke Mace Tyrell. The Tyrell family, even when acting as stewards, remained professional.

"How about eel pie?"

"Let Chris make a pot of corn chowder."

Upon hearing Rhaenys's words, Viseris pondered for a moment, shook his head, and replied.

Choosing what to have for dinner was indeed a century-old problem. He merely mentioned his taste casually.

"Good."

The small queen with brown curly hair looked at her husband's profile, sweetly smiled, and then turned and left, her long skirt trailing behind her.

At the same time, a silver-haired girl in a white chiffon dress stood quietly in the corridor of the white marble tower in Highgarden's garden.

She had a beautiful waist-length silver hair, clear and bright purple eyes, and a face as if carved by the gods.

Anyone who saw her for the first time couldn't help but hold their breath.

At this moment, the silver-haired girl standing under the sunset in the corridor, looking down at Viseris and Rhaenys standing together, her niece Diana and nephew Haelos playing in the garden, seemed to have a bit of faint sorrow in her eyes. Then, she lightly pursed her pink lips.

This silver-haired girl standing under the sunset in the corridor is Daenerys. She is fifteen years old this year, and according to the customs of Westeros, she is almost ready for the coming-of-age ceremony.

However, Daenerys seemed a bit depressed. Two years ago, she had her first menstruation, which, according to custom, meant she could already get married.

People around Daenerys had always said that sooner or later, she would marry Viseris because no one was more suitable to be the Empress than Daenerys. It was a match made in heaven, and Daenerys herself expected it in her heart.

However, although everyone around her said so, the royal emperor Viseris seemed not to have heard it at all and remained indifferent.

This even made Daenerys doubt whether Viseris didn't like her. Was there something wrong with her appearance?

And Viseris happened to be very good to Daenerys. However, in the eyes of the silver-haired girl, it still felt like a form of 'neglect.'

So, recently, Daenerys has been a bit moody.

"Daenerys, what are you looking at?"

At this moment, a voice came from behind, a girl with dark hair, wearing a standard blue and blue uniform, in the dress of a palace maid, holding a thick tome, walked over.

She had a flat round face, dark skin, and a pair of golden eyes. Holding a thick tome, she stood at the end of the corridor, looking at Daenerys curiously.

She is Missandei from the Isle of Naath. Now, she has grown from a little girl into a knowledgeable girl. She still wears a pair of gold-rimmed single-piece glasses on her face.

This is a sophisticated handmade product from the city across the Narrow Sea, Myr. Each pair is expensive and can only be worn by nobles and wealthy merchants from the trading city-states. But Missandei, with her outstanding grades in the academy, self-financed the purchase of them as a birthday gift for herself.

Missandei's learning talent was extremely high. Although she was only in her teens, after systematic learning and cultivation, she fully demonstrated her potential. She was already capable of surpassing many bachelors in the academy. If not for her being a girl and a foreigner, she might have qualified for several bachelor chains.

In the end, Missandei was able to enter the Imperial Economic Academy and the Imperial Medical Academy due to royal reasons. As the only girl here, she consistently ranked first in the entire school.

Daenerys had followed Missandei to study a few times, but it was clear that Daenerys received royal education, personally taught by the Grand Maester. The content of her studies was also different from the knowledge taught in the academy. Therefore, Daenerys did not go there again.

"No!"

"Didn't see anything."

The silver-haired girl heard the voice from behind, and her beautiful cheeks changed slightly.

Then Daenerys hurriedly turned around, smiling to block her good friend, as if she didn't want her to discover her worries.

"Is that so?"

Missandei, holding the book, scratched her hair, looked down the corridor under the tower, and seemed a little puzzled.

Chapter 768: Celestial Anomalies

Two months later, King's Landing.

A white raven from Oldtown brought a message.

The white ravens of Oldtown are not usually let out, only when the seasons change would they send word.

However this time, the Oldtown white raven did not bring news of a seasonal change. Instead, the letter was full of confusion.

Because this time the celestial bodies had changed, but the maesters who remained in Oldtown could not determine the change of seasons.

The astronomers and maesters determine the changing of seasons through the discipline of astrology - the length of days and nights with the sun, the phases and position of the moon, and the twelve constellations in the sky.

But now, recently, the celestial patterns across the whole world had undergone an earth-shattering change. They had overturned the laws recorded in astrology.

For example, it should currently be in the long summer stage, with long days and short nights. However, the day and night cycles were now in disarray. The constellations had shifted from their orbits, and the phases of the moon had also become irregular.

"What is going on?"

In Grand Maester Marwyn's room, an enormously large white raven was perched by the window. The bald, bull-necked Marwyn sat in his room, somewhat puzzled as he read the letter sent by Archmaester Vinegar.

This kind of celestial anomaly was truly the first time it had happened since records began, because to the Citadel, the celestial patterns represented the laws governing the workings of the entire world - they were the ultimate code to unraveling the mysteries of the world.

The rules of astrology would absolutely never make mistakes. In the several thousand years since humans began recording things in writing, there had never been problems before. So this really was unprecedented in history.

Not just Archmaester Vinegar in his bronze ring, rod and mask, even Grand Maester Marwyn, the current Grand Maester, was just as puzzled.

And on his desk was also placed an ancient tome, along with a mess of draft notes around it.

In his spare time apart from his duties as Grand Maester, Marwyn would study and try to decipher the vague text in this ancient book.

It was brought back from the ruins of Valyria by Viserys, who said it had been in the hands of a Valyrian nobleman. Even the five dragon eggs later were stolen from this nobleman's home. However, the owner had gone mad, turning into a monster - no longer human.

Marwyn had spent years trying to decipher this important book, consuming tremendous effort. Yet he had also broadened his horizons from it, unlocking many of the mysteries still puzzling the academic community about the Freehold of Valyria.

But now Marwyn could spare no more thought to continuing decoding the blurry text in this ancient tome.

His brows were locked tight as he raised his head to gaze out at the view from the Archmaester's Tower, the sunny and verdant trees outside the window, birds chirping and flitting about the branches.

"It seems I was overthinking things."

Marwyn couldn't help a wry laugh, shaking his head as he muttered to himself.

"But I'll still need to report this to His Grace."

The stocky bull-like maester then stood up, letter in hand from the Citadel at Oldtown, preparing to go find Viserys.

...

On the other hand, at that moment in the Red Keep a farewell banquet was being held, with King Viserys' squire Robb Stark as the main guest of honor.

He had served and studied under Viserys for a few years and was now grown into a man, it was time for him to return home and assume his role as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

Currently acting Warden of the North was still the late Lord Stark's old bannerman, Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold.

Robb was full of excitement for his prospects ahead. After spending a few years in King's Landing, he had learned much about the political scheming and backstabbing of the capital's nobles. Robb felt that he had graduated.

Who still dared say the Starks did not belong in the south?

Before this, Robb had even looked forward to the day he would return to King's Landing. He was not satisfied with merely being Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell.

Because in Robb's eyes, this was his birthright, for generations House Stark had ruled the North, and he as firstborn son, everything his father possessed would naturally be passed on to him eventually.

Thus, there was no difficulty in obtaining something destined for him anyway, so naturally he would not cherish it as much. Robb wanted to rely on his own ability to strive upwards. He hoped that one day in the future, he could return to King's Landing again as Hand of the King.

However, before leaving King's Landing, there was one person that made him reluctant to part, even haunting his dreams - Miss Margaery of House Tyrell in Highgarden.

Ever since catching a glimpse of her a few years ago, this coarse northern boy Robb had fallen deeply in love with this elegant and graceful southern girl, Margaery Tyrell.

Margaery had an exquisitely beautiful face, luscious brown curls, large soft doe eyes, and a slender but shapely figure.

Most importantly, Margaery was exceptionally smart and witty. Having been educated since young by her grandmother Lady Olenna Redwyne, although Margaery had only just come of age like Robb, she could already navigate adeptly among the circles of King's Landing nobility, while Robb seemed like a clumsy, shy bear beside her.

Margaery had utterly infatuated Robb.

However Sansa, also a beautiful girl herself, saw everything. Women understood women best, especially beautiful women amongst each other.

Sansa couldn't help reminding her brother not to let Margaery lead him by the nose, he should keep the initiative in his hands.

Yet Sansa's words went in one ear and out the other for Robb.

At the farewell banquet Robb drank himself red in the face. His good friend Theon Greyjoy drank along with him.

There were no important guests at the banquet, just some friends Robb had made these years in King's Landing, many still half-grown boys.

Viserys did not attend Robb and his little brothers' gathering, and Margaery, the object of Robb's affection, also did not show up.

Perhaps that was why Robb drank a little more than he should have today.

He couldn't understand why after giving his whole heart, she still wasn't moved?

He was the youngest ever Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, born of House Stark. Although House Tyrell was also a house of deep lineage, wasn't this how marriages between nobles worked? Who else could have better credentials than him?

Robb had come of age. His mother in Winterfell had mentioned more than once in her letters that upon his return North, he should start considering choosing an excellent northern girl.

However after living so many years in King's Landing and becoming accustomed to seeing all its allurements and charms, perhaps Robb now looked down a little on the girls back home.

Thump -

The auburn-haired youth downed the last cup of wine, then his head spun dizzy.

Next he flung away the cup in his hand and collapsed atop the table fast asleep.

Chapter 769: The Lover

Robb and his companions drank until they were red-faced and drunk. Meanwhile, in the Maidenvault of the Red Keep, the little rose Miss Margaery Tyrell, who was constantly on Robb's mind, was there at this moment.

As the most orthodox imperial palace, the Red Keep contained several banquet halls large and small. Many people could freely enter and leave the outlying areas of the Red Keep.

But at the very heart of the Red Keep, the Maidenvault was the royal living quarters, an enormous square fortress. It had twelve-foot thick walls and a dry moat lined with iron spikes protecting it.

Security was extremely tight at the Maidenvault. There were guards every five paces and sentries every ten paces, strictly forbidding outsiders from entering to prevent assassins from sneaking in.

Yet now, a naked girl draped in splendid silks was sprawled on her belly atop a soft feather bed, wiggling a pair of fair bare feet in the air.

This was the imperial bedchambers within the Maidenvault of the Red Keep.

And the girl lying atop this bed belonging to the imperial couple had smooth brown curls spilling over slim fair shoulders. Her large limpid eyes were half-lidded, slender white arms propping up her body.

Golden yellow silks covered up her vital areas, but showed off her graceful curves and exquisite figure.

She was the girl who was always on Robb's mind—known as the "Little Rose", Miss Margaery Tyrell.

She lay naked upon the messy bed. White gauze curtains fluttered gently in the breeze. Sunshine from outside the window happened to fall upon her calves and cute little feet. She stretched lazily, like a cat napping in the afternoon sun.

Then Margaery's bright eyes blinked, gazing affectionately at Viserys beside her, also with loose hair, wearing a loose robe.

Right now the supreme emperor of the empire sat at a desk nearby, flipping through a book to pass the time in his leisure.

His long silver-gold hair cascaded freely about his shoulders. His loose robes gave glimpse of the powerful chest beneath, still bearing a faint red scratch mark—likely given by a certain conquered kitten in the throes of what the Red Temple claimed was 'unity of man and god', being able to communicate with the divine in an unconscious state.

Margaery was one of Visery's secret lovers. They had maintained this relationship for over a year now.

With House Targaryen having collectively moved from the Red Keep to Highgarden, the Red Keep stood empty. Whenever Viserys returned, Margaery would secretly come to the Red Keep from the tunnels to accompany His Majesty under arrangements by his Master of Whisperers.

Thanks to the meticulous coverup by the whisperers, nobody outside had any clue of Miss Margaery Tyrell of House Tyrell's improper relations with His Imperial Majesty.

Even Viserys' personal squire, Robb Stark, was completely unaware. Viserys had kindly reminded Robb before that Margaery was not suitable for him and he should marry a northern girl, yet Robb similarly paid his words no heed.

The youth who had just passed his coming-of-age was still deeply mired in the emotional whirlpool, ignorant of the sinister ways of the adult world.

"I think you should speak to His Grace directly."

"There's a saying... what was it, something about how rabbits don't eat grass around their burrows?"

"Why's that?"

"Why?"

The dark-skinned, golden-eyed girl wearing a gold-rimmed monocle scratched her head, puzzled.

"I'm not too clear about it either."

"Probably that if rabbits eat up all the grass around their burrow, their burrow won't stay hidden well?"

This was part of the conversation between Daenerys and her best friend from Naath, Missandei.

As young maidens newly exploring these feelings, they could not keep their troubles locked inside. Though unwilling to confide her worries to Missandei initially, Daenerys was ferreted out in the end by the highly intelligent girl and ended up pouring out everything in her heart, hoping her good friend could give her some ideas.

Though Missandei's academic performance was excellent with high IQ, she also lacked experience in this area, momentarily left rather nonplussed.

But as a Naathi who had read extensively in the academy, Missandei still had a bellyful of learning. After scratching her head for a long time, she finally gave Daenerys a suggestion—to speak to His Grace directly, based on Missandei's 'rabbit theory'. Perhaps they knew each other too well to actually make a move?

At present, Daenerys was taking Missandei's suggestion. She had gathered her courage, riding her dragon Viserion to King's Landing in order to talk it out face to face with her brother.

Highgarden and King's Landing were not far apart. It took only about half a day to fly there on dragonback. That was why Viserys could so frequently commute between the two places.

"Your Highness."

"Your Highness."

The silver-haired girl riding a silver filly entered the Red Keep. Naturally the Unsullied guards at the gates would not obstruct her way.

"Your Highness."

Dismounting after entering the Red Keep, a golden-haired attendant immediately came forward to take her reins and lead the horse to the stables.

Head lowered, the golden-haired attendant accepted the reins, seemingly unwilling to let Daenerys see his face.

Yet she still caught sight of it.

"You're..."

Daenerys stared at the somewhat familiar face, not recalling too clearly but still recognizing his identity.

The attendant was tall but looked somewhat scrawny from thinness. He had golden hair and rather comely features, but hunched shoulders and lowered head lent him a cowering air, spoiling the overall impression—completely like a stableboy.

"You're..."

"Prince Joffrey?"

Daenerys placed his identity, it was that boy from their childhood who had bullied her and Missandei but got thrashed by Theon Greyjoy.

It was said he used to be a prince, son of that false king who had usurped her father's throne. But she later heard things had changed. Joffrey was not King Robert's son, but the bastard of the former queen and Daenerys' own younger brother instead.

"Joffrey Waters!"

"Princess!"

"I'm Joffrey Waters!"

At Daenerys' words, the golden-haired stableboy gave a small start. Somewhat agitated, he hastened to explain.

He stood a head taller than Daenerys but still shrank away timidly. Daenerys could even see the profound fear and avoidance in his eyes.

He was terrified of his former identity, desperately hoping that he and all around him could forget it.

Yet sadly for Joffrey, while he could make himself forget, he had no way of making others forget too. Each time it was brought up, whether good or ill, it was traumatic for him—becoming a demon haunting his psyche.

Chapter 770: Acting Master of Coin

"Farewell, Your Highness!"

"The small one will take his leave."

Afterward, the Joffrey-disguised stable boy hurriedly led Daenerys' mount back to his territory.

It was a stable next to the Red Keep.

And the silver-haired girl, watching Joffrey's evasive figure, slightly opened her mouth for a while, speechless. But for some reason, she felt no pleasure in seeing any harm come to the bad guy.

Instead, there was an inexplicable sense of boredom in her heart.

In the end, Daenerys was a kind-hearted girl. She wouldn't hold a grudge against Joffrey for a childhood squabble.

Fate is unpredictable, and the world is ever-changing.

Then Daenerys clenched her fist slightly, and stopped dwelling on this matter.

She turned her gaze to the Maegor's Holdfast in the Red Keep, took a deep breath, recalling the words Missandei told her, lifted her chin, and walked towards that direction.

"Your Majesty."

"Will my brother become the Hand of the King?"

Inside Maegor's Holdfast, Margaery, lazily lying on the bed after a fierce battle, with her eyes as clear as a little doe, looked at Viserys and asked.

Viserys Tyrell, Margaery's brother, had been in King's Landing for a month, finishing his work in Seagard, handling the transition, and spending another month on the road.

Viserys worked diligently, without any flaws in his attitude or abilities.

Now, he was not yet assigned a position in King's Landing. He still lived in the property the Tyrell family bought in King's Landing, residing together with his sister Margaery.

However, there were already rumors in the streets claiming that Viserys would succeed the ailing Westerlands governor, Myles Toyne, as the next Hand of the King.

So, Viserys had become a sought-after figure, attracting the attention of the elites in King's Landing.

Even several Small Council members visited, including the agriculture minister, Alistair Florent, the justice minister, Prince Oberyn Martell, and the former boss, Master of Coin Illyrio.

Everyone had heard that Master of Coin Illyrio was not having a comfortable time lately. He fell off his horse, breaking his leg, and even lost dozens of pounds. He seemed like a completely different person.

However, Illyrio's suffering was known only to himself, and he was like someone who had broken his teeth but couldn't spit them out.

According to the information revealed by Illyrio's close servant, the current Governor of Andalos was preparing to return to his fief for recuperation. He had already applied for sick leave from His Imperial Majesty.

Margery's question to Viserys was to satisfy her curiosity and to inquire about her brother's future arrangements.

"Viserys?"

Viserys was reading a biography novel when he heard his little lover's question. He gently closed the book and replied.

"As the acting Master of Coin, for now."

Myles Toyne's health was not good, and Viserys had visited him a few times. Under Dr. Ambrose's care, Myles had recovered somewhat.

If Myles Toyne wanted to resign, Viserys would promise him a return to his hometown. However, Myles seemed reluctant to leave the center of the empire so soon, struggling on the brink of death.

Viserys naturally wouldn't force him. After all, Myles Toyne had contributed a lot as one of the founding members of the empire, even though his work capacity had significantly decreased due to his health.

Viserys Tyrell came from a family that was defeated before the Second Conquest War. Before the war, the Tyrells did not recognize the situation and chose to surrender instead of rebelling. They actively prepared for war, attempting to resist the country's unification.

As a result, the army of House Targaryen dealt a thunderous blow to the Tyrell family on the battlefield in the Riverlands. The rose petals of Highgarden withered.

Viserys was indeed a capable and talented young man. However, the Toyne family were the founding heroes of House Targaryen. To ensure the nation's better development and longevity, a delicate balance needed to be maintained.

After all, during the Westerlands Campaign, more than half of the families and population in the Westerlands opposed House Targaryen. Would they discard these people after unification?

However, the country needed the joint efforts of the other half of the people for better development. But the soldiers and generals who were the founding heroes still needed special treatment; otherwise, it would chill the hearts of those who contributed.

Therefore, how to balance this delicate relationship was something Viserys Tyrell, as the Hand of the King, had to do. This was not only the problem of Viserys and Myles Toyne but also the responsibility of the emperor.

"Master of Coin?"

On the other side of the bed, the little lazy cat lying down heard Weselis's words and blinked her beautiful eyes.

"It seems suitable for Viserys."

"Viserys likes arithmetic. When he was in the Citadel, he delved into it. What kind of mathematics?"

Margaery remembered her big brother Viserys's days at the Citadel. He loved to study numbers, and he even told Margaery that numbers were the most romantic symbols in the world, containing endless truths.

However, Viserys's passionate speeches only made his little sister roll her eyes.

"Right."

At this moment, Margaery seemed to think of something.

"Your Majesty, Robb invited me to some feast today."

"Are you going to send him back to the North?"

The brown-haired beauty asked curiously.

Then she casually pulled the silk draped over her flawless body, covering only half of her tempting bosom. She jumped off the bed, lifted her long hair behind her ears, and walked towards Weselis.

"Yeah."

And Weselis looked at Margaery, who was sitting on his lap intimately, with a flame of desire rising in his body, although they had just had an intimate moment not long ago. His heart couldn't help but feel a little hot again.

"But I refused!"

The girl's fingers crossed Weselis's pajamas, making circles on his chest.

Margery spoke triumphantly, her beautiful face showing a shy blush, gently kissed Weselis's chest, and then raised her head.

"How will you reward me?"

Margery, a tempting little enchantress, ignited the flame in Weselis's body with her actions and words.

"Take off your clothes yourself!"

Weselis took a deep breath and then spoke.

"This is your order, Your Majesty."

And Margery, hearing this, smiled coyly, whispered in Weselis's ear, her voice was silky and soft.

The golden silk slipped off the ground.

Chapter 771: Quarrel

Passion burned within the imperial bedchambers, while the corridors of the Maegor's Holdfast were deserted and silent.

Whenever Margaery Tyrell was secretly brought to the Red Keep through the tunnels below, the whisperers would clear everyone out of the Maegor's Holdfast beforehand, forbidding any servants or handmaidens from entering.

And so, news of the emperor keeping several lovers never leaked out.

Yet now, faint cries could be heard echoing through the empty corridors, seemingly a woman in the throes of pleasure.

Daenerys clenched her little fists, throat somewhat dry, heartbeat quickening.

She was no completely naive girl. Daenerys also knew what those sounds represented, but who could this woman be with both Arianne and Rhaenys at Highgarden?

Daenerys felt rather nervous inside, heartbeat accelerating further. Yet as she continued striding forth, the sounds from the silent corridors grew clearer and louder. At the same time, fury burned in her chest.

"You're the one who should be little Viserys' queen, Princess.

"Because you have the purest lineage, and you're also very beautiful. His Grace would definitely like you."

Old maid Sophie had served Viserys' mother before. At an age to be Viserys and Daenerys' grandmother, she had watched King Aerys and Queen Rhaella grow up, delivering both Viserys and Daenerys at birth too.

So the elderly maid was one of the scarce few left in this world who dared address Viserys so directly without fear of his temper.

The old woman plaited Daenerys' hair as she rambled on ceaselessly. At her age she had become somewhat long-winded, occasionally even blanking out briefly, forgetting what she was just doing.

But that voice seemed to still echo by Daenerys' ear. Back then, besides shy delight, Daenerys also harbored a small secret satisfaction in her heart that she did not voice to others.

"We're all waiting to celebrate your wedding, Princess."

Even the blacksmith back on her fief Dragonstone would say this to her, hammer in hand.

Everyone believed Daenerys would sooner or later marry Viserys. It was merely a matter of time.

After all, Daenerys still had yet to come of age presently.

And she thought so too. She had long seen herself as one of Viserys' wives, only awaiting the day he would take her in.

But Viserys alone had not indicated anything. Perhaps it truly was as Missandei's 'rabbit theory' put it. Or there were other reasons. Still, it did not quell the blazing fury in Daenerys' heart right now.

"I should be Viserys' empress!"

The silver-haired girl clenched her teeth slightly, fists balling.

"Arianne and Rhaenys, neither of them even have the qualification."

Then she strode with large steps toward the direction of the voices, toward the imperial bedchambers atop the Maegor's Holdfast.

Just then, a figure emerged from the shadows of the corridor.

"Your Highness."

Garbed in black robes and masked, the whisperer warned in a low raspy voice.

"Princess, you cannot continue forward."

"Get lost!"

"You dare obstruct me?"

But Daenerys was furious. She completely ignored him, striding right past the whisperer. His body shook slightly as he inhaled deeply, yet ultimately did not dare forcibly bar the princess' way.

"Oh no—"

Still, he sensed grave trouble, turning to watch Daenerys' retreating back.

"This is bad!"

"Go notify the superiors!"

Daenerys looked delicate externally but had a strong personality. Especially when dead set on something, even nine oxen could not pull her back.

The whisperer did not dare forcibly stop the advancing princess, or none would speak up for him even if she killed him. Daenerys marched straight for Viserys' chambers.

The Maegor's Holdfast was a square fortress. Within it was a garden that allowed seeing the balcony of the imperial bedchambers directly across the corridors. Though white gossamer curtains often hung there.

"Viserys..."

"Viserys..."

And now, those increasingly urgent cries were coming from that direction. The sea breeze above the Narrow Sea blew, gossamer curtains fluttering. Daenerys halted in the passageway, with a perfect view into Viserys' room.

She saw a girl around her age with beautiful features kneeling atop the soft feather bed.

Graceful curves exposed without reserve, brown curls spilling to precisely veil slim shoulders.

"It's her!"

"Margaery Tyrell!"

Daenerys recognized at a glance the girl currently in Viserys' room.

It was that Miss Tyrell who would frequently and seemingly coincidentally appear before Viserys.

A year Daenerys' senior, Margaery had been sent to King's Landing early in life. As little girls the two were once inseparable best friends.

Yet Daenerys was innocent while Margaery was not someone she could compare with. Daenerys always felt Margaery seemed to be using her somehow too.

This rose who had stunned all since budding would also often secretly probe Daenerys about her elder brother, further fostering Daenerys' dislike.

And so the once best friends eventually drifted apart.

But Daenerys never imagined that the girl who had climbed into her brother's bed would turn out to be her former friend, little Miss Tyrell.

She had agonized over this yet ultimately still failed to stop Margaery getting her way.

Princess Daenerys had caught His Imperial Majesty and Miss Margaery Tyrell red-handed in their affair.

Through the whisperers' workings, this news swiftly reached Master of Whisperers Ramos Bolton.

Hearing of it, Ramos' expression drastically shifted.

"You useless lot!"

"Why didn't you stop the princess?!"

According to the whisperer responsible for secretly bringing Margaery Tyrell into the Red Keep via the tunnels, Princess Daenerys had directly charged into the Maegor's Holdfast. His Grace and Miss Tyrell were still in the room then.

Though His Grace noticed something amiss early, he was still a step late and caught in the act by the princess.

Daenerys had raged and quarreled fiercely with Viserys before leaving in anger on dragonback, flying east seemingly toward her fief Dragonstone.

"Milord, His Grace summons urgently."

Just then, a whisperer came to report.

Smash—

Hearing that, Ramos directly shattered the cup in his hand. His palm stung as blood trickled from where ceramic shards had cut skin.

"Let's go!"

Ramos' face was overcast. With a fling of his sleeve he strode out with large steps.

The whisperers' base was underground at King's Landing. But upon emerging outside, Ramos discovered the formerly clear skies had rapidly darkened. The weather had undergone an abrupt change.

"What's going on?"

"Why did it suddenly turn dark?"

The King's Landing commoners and merchants were also baffled, raising their heads to gaze skyward one after another.

Then they saw that the blazing sun hanging high just earlier, radiating bright daylight, now seemed to be getting devoured bite by bite by something.

Chapter 772: Solar Eclipse

Within the Red Keep, Grand Maester Marwyn clasped a letter from the Citadel and strode briskly toward Maegor's Holdfast from the Archmaester's Tower.

He had heard Princess Daenerys and His Grace seemed to have quarreled before she left in a huff, though nobody knew the specifics as the Holdfast was already cleared out then.

"Little Daenerys threw a tantrum?"

Hearing of it, Marwyn couldn't help a wry laugh.

Having accepted Viserys' invitation to be the imperial Grand Maester, one of his duties was overseeing the royal family's education. He had been Daenerys' teacher previously and knew well that while the girl looked delicate externally, her temper and personality were stronger than anyone's.

Yet Daenerys was exceptionally close to His Grace. Why would they suddenly argue?

The bull maester shook his head. But there were more pressing issues. He still had to report the celestial anomalies to His Imperial Majesty.

According to observations from the Citadel, many abnormal phenomena had occurred in the skies recently, perhaps heralding earth-shattering changes to the world.

Just as Marwyn the maester was about to stride toward Maegor's Holdfast again though, he suddenly sensed the daylight around dimming slightly.

"Hmm?"

Marwyn halted in surprise, then immediately heard the shrieks of palace handmaidens beside him.

Marwyn quickly raised his head skyward, and the handmaidens, manservants, stableboys and even the stoic Unsullied guards on duty in the Red Keep uniformly craned their necks up to gaze at the King's Landing skies.

The afternoon skies overhead were azure, yet the sun resembled a chunk bitten out by a dog, leaving a pitch black hollow. Thus the ground below had abruptly lost a significant amount of sunlight too.

"What's going on?"

"What is this?"

With the sun partially vanished, panic spread through King's Landing. The city watch struggled to keep order as frightened cries resounded in the Red Keep as well—the palace handmaidens were scarcely more well-informed than the common masses outside, reacting in frightened shouts and screams.

Even the normally unflappable Unsullied guards couldn't help quickened breaths, gripping shields and spears tightly.

For the unknown was humanity's greatest fear.

If ghosts were visible and tangible rather than invisible, perhaps they would not be as frightening.

"This is..."

In front of Maegor's Holdfast, the stocky maester stood clutching the letter from the Citadel, head raised to gaze at the darkening skies above. His heart chilled to the bone.

The sun was disappearing.

Why? What would happen if the sun vanished completely?

Thoughts racing, Marwyn lowered his eyes to the letter in hand again, expression unsightly.

Atop Maegor's Holdfast in the Red Keep, Viserys had dressed himself, as had his lover Miss Margaery Tyrell of House Tyrell.

She had wrapped up her bodice, pulled on white stockings over slim legs and donned her gown, seated quietly at bedside.

After Princess Daenerys charged in earlier and quarreled fiercely with Viserys, Margaery felt rather awkward and ashamed. After all the little rose was not so sage as the Queen of Thorns, especially over cheating with a childhood friend's brother.

Yet the crux of Daenerys' grievance was not Viserys and Margaery's affair, but the continuation of their lineage by blood.

Daenerys deemed herself the most fitting candidate for empress. Words she had always harbored in her heart.

Viserys and Arianne's union was a political marriage. Rhaenys too lacked pure Targaryen lineage, bearing Viserys a firstborn son without prominent Targaryen features.

Daenerys felt that by marrying Viserys, she could fulfil their duty of continuing the ancestral line. This was her obligation and responsibility. Yet Viserys could not quite accept Daenerys' mindset, finding her somewhat obsessive.

And so the two parted unhappily, Daenerys flying to Dragonstone in anger while Viserys was left vexed.

There were flaws in Daenerys' personality that others might not realize, but Viserys understood perfectly well.

After all, she was the Mad King's daughter.

Moreover Queen Rhaella had consumed considerable hallucinogens before birthing Daenerys, indirectly causing the queen's excruciating labor and death.

What worried Viserys most was whether this had impacted Daenerys. Fortunately over the years he noticed no 'madness' in Daenerys stemming from it.

But her personality did tend toward obsessiveness, struggling to think straight and prone to extremes, balancing between good and evil.

"Daenerys, she..."

The brown-haired girl looked uneasy, asking softly.

She did not know where Daenerys had flown off to after their fight.

"I'll handle Daenerys' matter."

Yet Viserys shook his head.

"Margaery, you should head back first."

"Men, escort Miss Tyrell away!"

Viserys stated bluntly, his tone brooking no dissent.

As his voice fell, the bedchamber doors opened. Two whisperers masked stood outside awaiting her departure.

Left with no choice, Margaery Tyrell gave a slight curtsey and took her leave.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Then the whisperers escorted Margaery away via the underground passages direct to the outside world.

Left alone in his room, Viserys sat feeling somewhat troubled by the obsessive aspect hidden within Daenerys' personality.

"This is really vexing."

It would be simple enough to directly take Daenerys as wife. Yet the flaws in her personality could not be remedied. Her prior actions over favoritism were trivial, but later could involve contention over Viserys' line of succession.

Yet just as Viserys was debating whether to immediately fly over on dragonback to fetch Daenerys back from Dragonstone, the skies overhead abruptly darkened.

Like everyone else, frightened cries sounded from outside. Viserys' gaze concentrated slightly too.

"Oh?"

He left his seat and strode quickly out to the balcony, raising his head to look skyward.

The sun had a pitch black hollow, seemingly bitten by a heavenly dog.

"A tian gou eating the moon?"

"Oh no, a heavenly dog eating the sun."

"Could it be a solar eclipse?"

Sea winds blew through his hair above the Narrow Sea. One hand on the frigid stone balcony, Viserys' first thought was of the solar eclipse phenomenon.

Yet carefully recalling the astrology he knew of this world, it seemed there were never any records of solar eclipses.

Chapter 773: The Long Night Descends

This bizarre 'heavenly dog devouring the sun' phenomenon was occurring not just at King's Landing, but simultaneously across the world.

The sun was being nibbled away bit by bit by the dark, sunlight cast on the ground also fading gradually. Never having witnessed such a sight before, people reacted in panic and horror, many falling to their knees in desperate prayer.

From the North still under reconstruction to the Dornish end of the empire, from the Lonely Light in the Sunset Sea to Pentos, Andalos and the Three Daughters across the Narrow Sea.

The sun was being stolen away.

That vital core bearing all human life and hope.

Yet all were helpless but to watch the sun vanish, without any means to save it.

Even the emperor of the current strongest nation on earth, the Valyrian Empire, could only stand motionless on his balcony, hands tied.

In the fields the farmers, dockworkers in the harbors, soldiers struggling to keep order - all were lost in bewilderment inside.

"What's happening?"

Having just quarreled with Viserys earlier, Daenerys was riding her dragon toward Dragonstone.

The sea winds had cleared her previously fevered mind.

She regretted arguing with Viserys somewhat.

Even more so for some irreversible words said in the heat of their fight.

For words were like knives, especially toward loved ones. Spur-of-the-moment utterances could not be taken back. Even if friends and family forgave, it would still leave a knot in their hearts.

Fortunately she had only said those words before Viserys himself. Rhaenys and Arianne were unaware. But there had been another woman present then.

Would Margaery repeat what she said to them?

Daenerys regretted her rashness a little. Astride her partner Viserion's back, endless seas and wisps of clouds stretched below.

The silver-haired girl clenched her little fists. Her dragon seemed to sense its master's inner turmoil too.

Somewhat embarrassed to simply fly back now, Viserion tilted its head. Icy eyes regarded Daenerys as the dragon let out a low rumble, seeming to encourage her.

But just then, the skies above abruptly darkened.

"Does anyone know what is happening?"

"What should we do?"

On the other end at Braavos, current Sealord of Braavos Tormo Fregar stood in the Sealord's Palace questioning the key holders of the Iron Bank.

"This is..."

Yet these men reputedly presiding over the greatest fortune in the world could only look helplessly at one another, left speechless.

Because at times like these, in the face of such circumstances, all the wealth and gold in their coffers had become worthless.

Volantis.

Guided by High Priest Benerro, believers of the Red Temple ignited a great fire before the temple so huge it was visible across the whole of Volantis.

Whoosh—

The flames burned, surging wildly into the clouds.

"Ancient evil gods gather power!"

"Evil and mighty beyond mortal resistance."

"The cold winds have stirred. Soon comes an endless Long Night, unless righteous men gather courage to uphold the fiery faith of R'hllor."

Kneeling before the blaze, the high priest led his followers in impassioned prayer, beseeching the Lord of Light to grant them dawn again, to return the vanished sun.

And this was actually the daily prayer ritual conducted by the red monks.

Every dusk they would light fires and pray to R'hllor for the next day's sun to still rise as usual. Yet now was the largest such ritual in history.

Vaes Dothrak.

"Shekh!"

"Shekh!"

As the sun disappeared, even the formidable Dothraki riders who feared nothing on the battlefield reacted in panic now, prostrating before the Mother of Mountains praying for the Horse God to protect them.

Outside the hall of Khal of Khals, Mango who had unified the Dothraki, a warlock masked in red varnish raised his eyes watching the skies.

"Warlock!"

Just then, a voice called out behind the warlock. The female warlock named Quaithe turned to look at her companion.

Their eyes met, both filled with dread.

Amidst the mists shrouding the ruins of Valyria, thunder and lightning flashed through the dark clouds here. Ships navigating nearby heard terrifying sounds echoing from within, unsure if thunder or something else.

They could even vaguely glimpse giant shapes wheeling in the distant heavens.

Slaver's Bay.

Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen.

New Ghis.

The Shadow Council.

Queen of the Summer Isles Asha Greyjoy and her clan heads also jolted up in shock.

Across the world, everywhere touched by sunlight had sunk into terror.

In King's Landing, only a short while had passed yet already half the sun was gone.

"Men!"

"Tell Brynden 'Blackfish' Tully to seal all the city gates!"

"Maintain order in the capital!"

"Forbid any chaos!"

Emerging from his shock within the Red Keep, Viserys swiftly issued orders like flowing water.

No matter what happened, preserving stability took first priority. He could well imagine the turmoil outside now without even stepping out.

Initially Viserys assumed it was a solar eclipse. Yet upon careful recollection, it seemed humanity here had no records of any eclipses before.

No solar eclipses in this world?

Or were they simply too rare?

Coupled with this world's inexplicable chaotic changing of seasons, each lasting years... Viserys reached a chilling conclusion.

"Could it be..."

"The Long Night descending?"

Yet by Viserys' memory, Year 299 After Aegon should be around the timeline when the War of the Five Kings took place. Winter might have come silently, but not the Long Night.

Why would such changes occur? What governed the workings of this world? Were all these the will of the gods? Whims of nature? Or might of magical tides?

But the chaotic rules of this world remained incomprehensible to Viserys.

"Your Grace!"

"Terrible news!"

Then Grand Maester Marwyn rushed over, the letter from the Citadel in hand.

Of course, that letter had now lost all meaning. The maesters' speculation over coming calamity from celestial anomalies was already unfolding.

"Grand Maester Marwyn, do you know of solar eclipses?"

Viserys had thrown on a cloak. Seeing Marwyn arrive, he asked directly.

Indeed, the exceptionally learned Marwyn was completely blank.

Clearly he had never heard of any solar eclipse either.

Chapter 774: The Siege of King's Landing

Dong—

Dong—

Dong—

Following these resonant beats, the bells of the Great Sept of Baelor began to toll, echoing throughout the entire King's Landing.

These bells only rang on occasions like royal weddings, funerals, and other significant events involving the imperial family.

As the High Septon, Aegon, adorned with a crystal crown and wielding a scepter, felt a sense of bewilderment in his heart at this moment.

He didn't know what he should do, but being the High Septon, considered the earthly representative of the gods, all the monks and clergy in the Sept turned their gaze to him.

Aegon had to do something at this moment.

"Tell everyone not to panic."

"The Seven will bless us all."

So, Aegon had to speak, his throat making a rolling motion.

He placed all his hopes in the gods above, ordering the tolling of the ancient bells, hoping to draw the attention of the divine to the mortal realm and recover the lost sun.

In the streets of King's Landing, the continuous ringing of the bells of the Great Sept of Baelor led some to find hope. Kneeling, they began fervently praying.

Some started, and other devout followers of the Seven joined them, kneeling and praying, unsure of what else to do at this moment, hoping the gods would bless them.

"Attention!"

"The King has commanded!"

"Close the city gates!"

On the other side, the Commander of the City Watch, Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully, armored and armed, ascended the walls of the Iron Gate of King's Landing, then gave a stern command.

He had received orders from the Red Keep, and the Emperor commanded him to dispatch all City Watch soldiers to maintain order in the city and prevent any chaos or disturbances.

Simultaneously, the seven gates of King's Landing were sealed off, preventing the commoners outside from surging into the inner city, safeguarding the city's security.

With King's Landing's status rising and its size expanding beyond the city walls, an outer city had gradually formed outside.

"Close the gates!"

"Close the gates!"

Brynden Tully's orders continuously passed down the ranks. Lower-ranking City Watch soldiers, armed with spears and shields, drove away the people near the gates while simultaneously closing them, producing a harsh metallic friction sound.

"Fall back!"

"Fall back!"

"Those who assault the gates, die!"

However, many people were already in a state of panic. Some wanted to rush into the city, and others wanted to escape outside. It was only after witnessing bloodshed that they calmed down.

Thunderous roars—

Subsequently, all seven gates of King's Landing closed heavily.

The sun had completely disappeared.

The entire world plunged into a dim and lightless darkness.

And the Imperial City of Valyria, under the suppression of soldiers, forcibly returned to calmness.

All citizens were ordered to return to their homes, closing their doors. Soldiers guarded every street intersection, dispersing darkness with torches, bringing a faint glimmer of light.

Yet, despite the rigorous training of the Imperial soldiers, they still followed orders, suppressing all resistance and unrest. But on their faces was an expression of bewilderment.

Because they, too, didn't know what had happened.

The sun had been gone for several hours, with no sign of returning.

"Is the end of the world coming?"

Every person's heart was restless, even questioning themselves in this way.

But fortunately, when the sky falls, there are tall people to support it.

Especially the surviving veterans who had participated in the war against the White Walkers thought so.

They could never forget that scene—a person riding a dragon, charging alone into the undead army.

"Your Majesty!"

A military officer in the City Watch, missing a hand, pursed his lips slightly, then turned his head with fanaticism, looking towards the distant Aegon's High Hill, where the lights of the Red Keep were still shining brightly.

He believed that even if it was the end of the world, His Majesty, the Emperor, would be the only beacon for all humanity.

Leading the whole world out of this crisis.

It was clear that Viserys's limited power of faith was contributed by these surviving warriors.

Meanwhile, in the Red Keep.

Viserys, still wearing his sleeping robe with a simple coat over it, walked back and forth in his room.

Even the messy feather bed where he had tangled with Margaery Tyrell had not been tidied up.

He stood in his chamber, wearing the Valyrian steel crown, and his sword, Dawn, hung on the nearby wall. Then, he turned around and spoke.

"So, the situation now is."

"Has the Long Night truly arrived?"

Viserys's Small Council ministers were all gathered in his bedroom.

Outside, the Red Keep's throne room was similarly overcrowded with noble refugees and their families. When a crisis occurred, these people's first thought was to seek refuge in the Red Keep.

With nowhere else to go outside, and now in the dim, lightless world, they dared not leave the city, preferring to stay in the castle where many others sought solace.

After all, humans were social creatures, and the more people there were, the safer they felt.

And where in King's Landing was the safest?

Certainly in the Red Keep.

However, Viserys currently had no time to console the frightened nobles in the throne room. Thus, in his bedroom, he convened all the Small Council ministers.

This included the ailing Hand of the King, Myles Toyne, and Willas Tyrell, who had not yet taken over as the acting Master of Coin.

When the sun gradually disappeared, Willas was still anxiously searching for his sister.

Because King's Landing had fallen into turmoil, he feared that his sister might be in danger. However, it turned out that the agents of the Ministry of Internal Affairs had escorted Margaery Tyrell back.

Now, Willas, standing here, had no idea that his sister had just had a tumultuous three-hundred-round battle with the Emperor on the bed next to him.

Illyrio Mopatis, the former Governor of Andalos, did not appear here because, unfortunately, he had left by boat yesterday.

He might be drifting on the dark, sunless sea now.

"Can it be confirmed?"

Emperor Viserys, in his sleeping robe with a coat, had a solemn expression.

"No concrete evidence, Your Majesty."

On the other side, Dr. Marwyn, the current Grand Maester, sat in the Emperor's chair, looking haggard.

He was continuously perusing books while shaking his head, speaking.

Chapter 775: The Tale of the Long Night

All eyes in the room fixated on Dr. Malwin, the most erudite among them.

"Since the Alliance's oath, which marked the end of the war between the First Men and the Children of the Forest, thousands of years have passed," he began.

"A winter spanning a generation descended upon the entire world."

"In this icy realm devoid of sunlight, people grew up and perished amidst the cold winter, never witnessing the arrival of spring."

"Even kings in castles and the lowliest of servants were not spared, freezing to death in the prolonged winter."

"Mothers, desperate to spare their children from suffering, resorted to killing them. Their cries echoed, but tears froze on their cheeks."

Dr. Malwin's voice, gripping a stack of thick books, subtly trembled.

This was a tale passed down by the First Men through symbols and ancient family traditions, narrated to the Stark children in Winterfell by the old grandmother.

However, contemporary human history was written after the arrival of the Andals in Westeros.

So, much of the history regarding the Dawn Age, the Age of Heroes, and the 'Long Night' was recorded by scholars thousands of years later. Many doctors and scholars within the Citadel didn't believe in such things as the Long Night. They deemed the story too absurd, contradicting the laws of astronomy.

The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, an eternal cycle.

If there were truly decades of darkness, was it because the sun was hiding underwater or blocked by something?

According to the scholars of this world, most still believed it to be flat.

Even Dr. Vmas, in his work "Lies of the Ancients," speculated that the so-called White Walkers were just a tribe of the First Men, ancestors of today's Free Folk. The Long Night, in his view, was merely an exceptionally long winter.

Unfortunately, Dr. Vmas did not live to see today; otherwise, he would not only encounter the White Walkers but also witness the arrival of the Long Night.

In the Emperor's chambers at Red Keep's Maegor's Holdfast, everyone present fell into a silent stupor upon hearing Dr. Malwin's words.

A winter lasting a generation? What kind of joke was this?

Everyone felt an icy chill from head to toe.

Yet, a winter lasting a generation wasn't the most terrifying; it was the perpetual darkness.

If it were only cold, resilient humans might endure and even migrate south to the Summer Isles.

But enduring a generation of darkness—what would people eat?

Perhaps countless would starve to death.

"I say, everyone..."

"We shouldn't be sitting here in a daze."

At this moment, Tyrion Lannister, the Emperor's advisor, was the first to regain his senses.

His diminutive stature made him the least conspicuous among the crowd, even disappearing behind the table.

"What should we do?"

However, Tyrion was indeed the first to recover his composure among the courtiers and then asked a constructive question.

What should we do? "If the Long Night has truly come, we must have something to do."

"For this country, for the people of this country, and also for our own lives."

Tyrion looked at everyone present, his gaze sweeping across their faces, then shrugged his shoulders, attempting to inject a bit of humor.

He wanted to liven up the atmosphere, but failed because even his voice sounded somewhat dry.

"For example..." "We can establish some underground fortresses to withstand the cold, fill them with enough food for many years, and then hide ourselves."

"As for the people on the surface, that's their luck."

Since they already knew the Long Night had come, and this Long Night might last for decades, even a bit of food at this time should not be wasted.

Because even a small act of kindness might save you from starving to death at the last moment before dawn.

Moreover, since it was the Long Night, giving them a bit of food wouldn't be enough for the common people to survive the winter.

"And for example, has Westeros lost the sun?"

"Is there sunlight elsewhere?"

Tyrion asked again, this time looking at Dr. Malwin and the Minister of Justice, Oberyn.

"If there is sunlight elsewhere, we can send troops to conquer that land, then migrate our people there to survive this disaster."

Tyrion raised his fist and squeezed it tightly, symbolizing strength.

He questioned these two people for a reason, one being the knowledgeable doctor who should know more about the Long Night, and the other being a battle-hardened general.

If there were truly other places in the world still bathed in sunlight, he believed the Emperor would spare no effort to conquer them and seize that territory.

Unfortunately, he looked to Prince Doran with anticipation, but the latter shook his head slightly.

"I don't know if there is sunlight in other parts of the world now."

"But if the Long Night has come."

Oberyn's voice grew colder, taking a deep breath.

"According to the legend of the Rhoynar, the Mother River Rhoyne will disappear during the Long Night."

Oberyn's words extinguished the spark of hope that had just ignited in everyone's hearts because this legend of the Long Night appeared in the Essos continent as well.

"Yes."

"About eight thousand years ago, the Long Night descended simultaneously across the world."

And now, Dr. Malwin, who was frantically flipping through books, began to speak in a tired voice.

He was examining the history of the Dawn Age and the Age of Heroes temporarily. Fortunately, the Imperial Palace in King's Landing had a sufficient collection of books, and there were records of the Long Night in the history of the Age of Heroes.

"East of the Bone Mountains, Yi Ti had a similar story."

"The sun disappeared, and darkness perpetually shrouded the land."

"The YiTish people believed that the Long Night was caused by the 'Blood Rebellion' of the Bloodstone Emperor. He killed his sister, the Amethyst Empress, usurped the throne of the Great Empire of the Dawn, and betrayed the true gods, the Maiden-Made-of-Light and the Lion of Night. Instead, he worshipped a mysterious black stone that fell from the sky. As a result, the Lion of Night brought about the Long Night to punish humanity."

"But another book called 'Outline of Jade Seas' recorded a different legend about Yi Ti."

"It said that the sun hid due to some unknown matter, and the last woman with a monkey's tail reversed this disaster."

"The story of the Long Night happened simultaneously in every corner of the world, and our ancestors had nowhere to hide; they could only face it themselves."

Dr. Malwin closed the book, sighed, and said, "This is a crisis for all of humanity."

Chapter 776: Ib

"Damn, why'd I have to run into you today?"

"Like steppin' in dog shit."

In the brightly lit tavern, a man wearing boiled leather armor with iron studs, a double-bladed battle axe by his side, spoke in a coarse voice.

He held a mutton leg in his hand, opened his mouth wide revealing a row of crooked square teeth, directly tore off a chunk of meat, and chewed vigorously.

On the other side, an equally burly and stout Ibbenese raider named Ibb, wielding an axe in one hand and a long-haired round shield in the other, bluntly sat down beside him and retorted without mincing words.

"Fuck you!"

"Goron."

"I'm the one who stepped in dog shit seeing you."

This place was Ib, an island nation located north of Essos on the Shivering Sea.

The largest island of Ib is Ibben, an island covered in forests and mountains. The largest cities on it are the capital Port of Ibben and Ib Nor.

South of Ibben, numerous small islands are scattered in Whale Bay. To the southeast of Ibben is Far Ib, a medium-sized mountainous island with the city Ib Sar.

The Ibbenese are burly, stout, and hairy, both men and women, as if not fully evolved, with exceptionally broad chests and shoulders.

Furthermore, the Ibbenese have a very distinct "reproductive isolation" from other races in this world.

If a Westerosi or someone from another continent impregnates an Ibbenese woman, the result is invariably a deformed or stillborn fetus.

Similarly, if an Ibbenese man impregnates a Westerosi or other continental woman, miscarriages are common, either deformed or "natural," like mules.

The Ibbenese also have their own unique way of greeting.

"Oh, fuck me."

"Why'd you all come over to join in the fun?"

"Am I having a wedding feast here?"

Goron, the Ibbenese warrior holding the mutton leg, took a swig of strong liquor from the wooden cup beside him, then bit off a mouthful of mutton, watching his companion sit down in front of him with dissatisfaction.

"What?"

"Someone else came by just now too?"

However, this Ibbenese man with a head of messy yellow hair, holding an axe and shield, didn't seem to hear Goron's displeasure.

Instead, he sat down opposite him without ceremony, put down his weapons and shield, then pulled out a small knife, cut a piece of meat from Goron's mutton leg, put it in his mouth and asked.

"Thos!"

"That son of a bitch Togg Thos!"

Goron didn't hide it either, speaking bluntly.

This Togg Thos was an Ibbenese raider who was once a member of the Brave Companions, also known as the Bloody Mummers. Their leader was called Vargo Hoat, a Qohorik.

It's said that many years ago, they went to Westeros to make their fortune and got beaten by dragons.

The captain of the Brave Companions died on the spot, so they scattered like birds and beasts. From then on, the Brave Companions disbanded, and the Ibbenese Togg Thos returned to his homeland.

After returning to Ib, Togg Thos joined another mercenary company, which happened to be the mortal enemy of Goron and the others. That's why the two couldn't stand each other and had some conflicts in the tavern just now.

But if you asked Goron, Togg Thos was just a deserter from the Brave Companions!

He even made up an excuse, something about being attacked by dragons? This was simply laughable enough to make one snap their shit in half. Are dragons that common? And why would dragons bother attacking them for no reason? It's like using a cannon to shoot a mosquito.

However, at this moment, a roar suddenly echoed faintly outside the tavern. It wasn't very loud, penetrating the white blizzard as if coming from a great distance. If one didn't listen carefully, they wouldn't hear it at all, let alone in the noisy, chaotic tavern.

Ib was also currently plunged into a long night, with no daylight.

However, as the rulers of Ib, the Shadow Council also reacted very quickly, stabilizing the local situation and preventing the unrest from spreading further.

Now people didn't know what exactly happened, why the sun disappeared.

Those with clever minds knew to quietly stockpile some food, while most people had to continue living. With no sun, what else could they do? They could only continue eating what they should eat, drinking what they should drink. Even if doomsday was just around the corner, they had to struggle a bit, not just commit suicide for nothing.

However, that faint roar from outside continued. At first, no one paid attention, perhaps because it was too far away. It sounded like the shrill whistle of the fierce cold wind outside the tavern squeezing through the cracks of the door.

But as the sound drew closer and closer, penetrating the blizzard and echoing in the sky over the Port of Ibben, some of the people sitting in the tavern seemed to realize something was amiss, sensing the unusualness.

Ib is roughly at the same latitude as the Frostfangs in the North, but when the long night fell, it snowed abruptly. Now it was still snowing heavily outside.

"Hmm?"

Goron, who was gnawing on the mutton leg, reacted first. He stopped what he was doing and asked.

"Wait... Did you hear that?"

Then Goron held his mutton leg in one hand, frowning and listened intently.

After waiting to hear clearly, his face suddenly changed. He quickly put down his mutton leg, picked up his double-bladed battle axe and long-haired round shield.

The many Ibbenese in the tavern also reacted without his prompting.

"What's going on?"

"What sound?"

The crowd in the tavern at the Port of Ibben all stood up abruptly, grabbing their weapons.

Dong— Dong— Dong—

Then the sound of the alarm bell rang out in the Port of Ibben. This bell only rang when foreign invaders attacked.

The Ibbenese people were fierce, and the whole population were warriors. So when facing an invasion, they would ring the bell to summon all Ibbenese warriors, men and women alike, to take up their weapons and resist the enemy's aggression.

"Who invaded Ib?"

"The wood men of Ifequevron? Or the Dothraki?"

The two major powers closest to Ib were the Dothraki and the Kingdom of Ifequevron, the legendary "forest walkers."

They lived in the forests and had only one city called Vaes Leisi. The Ifequevron people were said to wield forbidden magic. Although they were neighbors of the Dothraki, the horse lords never dared to provoke them, instead avoiding them.

However, the Ibbenese in the tavern all had blank faces because, theoretically, the Dothraki feared the sea and would never cross the water to attack Ib.

As for their other neighbors, the wood men of the Kingdom of Ifequevron, although they couldn't be said to love peace and would kill outsiders who intruded without mercy, the wood men had never left the forest.

Chapter 777: The Fall

"It can't be Lorath, can it?"

Someone tentatively asked.

"Haha—"

The tavern immediately erupted in laughter, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably.

Because although Lorath was one of the nine Free Cities, it had the weakest overall strength. It was the smallest, poorest, least populated, and most backward of the city-states.

Even Lorath's military strength was only slightly stronger than Pentos, which had signed the humiliating treaty back then.

Ibbenese whaling ships could charge through Lorathi waters with impunity, and the Lorathi didn't dare fart in response. So how could they possibly have the guts to invade Ib now?

"Could it be some lost pirates?"

Someone spoke up to lighten the mood, and the tense atmosphere in the tavern immediately dissipated.

"Hmph."

"Looks like that's a real possibility."

Upon hearing this, Goron's brow relaxed, and he shrugged slightly.

Occasionally, some pirates lost in the waters around Ibben would trigger the local alarm. He put down his axe and shield.

However, at that moment, everything happened too fast, catching everyone off guard.

Boom—

The tavern's roof collapsed with a sudden explosive sound. No one inside had time to react; it was as if time had frozen.

Goron had just sat down. Hearing the sound, he raised his head and saw the most dazzling, brilliant icy blue flames he had ever laid eyes on, surging down along with the shattered roof.

The fierce and brave Ibbenese raiders didn't even have time for a look of terror to appear in their eyes before they were completely engulfed by the icy blue flames.

A colossal ice dragon, vast enough to block out the sun, had come from the north of Ibben, across the vast Shivering Sea. It suddenly appeared in the sky above the Port of Ibben and launched an attack on the port city.

The ice dragon's body was somewhat damaged, with some areas even revealing exposed white bones. However, these bones glittered like crystals.

"Haa—"

It circled in the sky above the Port of Ibben, its massive form hidden by the blizzard as it continuously let out deep roars. The eyes of this ice dragon also burned with the same icy blue flames.

The colossal ice dragon circled incessantly over the Port of Ibben, occasionally diving down to spew its dragon breath. The port city below was plunged into a sea of icy blue flames.

Anyone who came into contact with these icy blue flames would instantly lose all vitality, as if electrocuted, and collapse to the ground. They were all frozen to death while still alive.

However, in just a few breaths, these "corpses" that had just fallen to the ground, devoid of life, would rise again.

But this time, their eyes had turned the same icy blue as the flames, and they no longer recognized kith or kin. They could no longer remember friends, family, lovers, or anything else.

"Goron!"

"Give me a hand!"

The ice dragon's breath destroyed the small tavern, but another Ibbenese mercenary had luckily taken cover under a table and survived.

When he crawled out of the rubble with great difficulty, he saw his friend, the one who had just been laughing and chatting with him, now staring blankly at him with a pair of icy blue eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong with your eyes?"

The other Ibbenese mercenary seemed to sense something amiss and asked, slightly puzzled.

Then he saw the icy cold expression on Goron's face in front of him, and his eyes gradually changed.

"Goron?"

"Goron!"

"Aah!!!"

Then a piercing scream rang out from the ruins of the small tavern.

Father and son.

The white-haired old father was knocked to the ground by his son, who frantically bit him. Even his screams grew faint as he continuously wept.

Husband and wife.

The wife's corpse, carried on her husband's back, suddenly came back to life, opening a pair of icy blue eyes. Then she viciously bit into her husband's neck.

The husband, in pain, threw her off his back. The wife, with icy blue eyes, let out a chilling howl like a starving wild dog that had caught the scent of meat, and pounced on her husband again.

The man, holding an axe, had no choice. With one hand covering his still bleeding neck, he let out a desperate roar of rage.

"Ah!"

Crack—

He swung the axe in his hand, tearfully chopping off his wife's head.

But his wife's severed head, rolling on the ground, still continued to roar, as if wanting to bite him again.

Similar tragedies kept unfolding throughout the Port of Ibben.

Those who died under the dragon's breath rose again and killed others. After a while, those who were killed also rose and killed even more people.

In an instant, this cycle turned the once most prosperous port city of Ib into a living hell. A large number of Ibbenese became wights, joining the ranks of the army of the dead. Only a small number of Ibbenese warriors were still fiercely resisting.

"Kill!"

"Hold fast!"

Meanwhile, in the sky above the Port of Ibben, the colossal ice dragon, concealed by the blizzard, had stopped spewing its dragon flame at some unknown point.

The reason was simple.

Because now there was no need for the ice dragon to continue attacking. The surging army of the dead alone was enough to make this human city fall.

Any resistance at this point was futile.

"Where did these monsters come from?!"

The Ibbenese warriors' fierce counterattacks, their spilled hot blood, their desperate roars—in the eyes of a certain Pale One, it all seemed like a performance to amuse him.

The ice dragon circled in the sky above the Port of Ibben, and a figure sat atop its back.

He wore ancient armor made of cold ice and carried a stone sword on his back. He quietly looked down at the gradually falling human city below, his eyes burning with icy blue flames, as still as an ancient well.

The power of death combined with the magic of the ice dragon had given birth to a subtle effect. The ice dragon's breath was as if incorporeal; wherever it passed, it took away all life and made them rise again.

Under the cover of the long night, the lights in the Port of Ibben were gradually diminishing. The lights on this island were all lit with whale oil, said to be able to burn for a very long time.

However, in the end, the last glimmer of light disappeared on the hill that served as the headquarters of the Shadow Council, the rulers of Ib. The entire prosperous port city, the capital of Ibben, was completely plunged into darkness.

Even the last sounds of resistance on the ground vanished. The entire city fell into a deathly stillness. Only then did the figure riding the ice dragon in the sky turn his head to look south.

There lay Whale Bay, separating Ibben from the continent of Essos.

South of Whale Bay was the Ibbenese's new city of New Ibbish and the Kingdom of Ifequevron, home of the "woods walkers."

Chapter 778: The Golden Empire

The darkness of the eternal night enveloped the land as a gray-white heron soared above the eastern wilderness, its sharp eyes constantly scanning the ground, as if searching for prey in the dark of night.

Tap, tap, tap.

On the ground, the clamor of hoofbeats arose.

A troop of cavalry, clad entirely in oriental garb, slowly advanced. They wore red battle robes under their mail, with bows on their backs and swords at their waists. Atop their heads were red cherry blossom helmets, and in their hands they held azure battle flags emblazoned with golden edges and torches. They seemed to be patrolling this stretch of land.

However, at that moment.

Twang—

The sound of a bowstring suddenly released from within the patrol.

Whoosh—

A fiery, sharp arrow pierced the night, directly penetrating the skull of a half-human, half-beast creature covered in green scales from head to toe. At the same time, it illuminated the darkness beyond the light of the torches in the distance.

There, several more creatures of similar appearance, their bodies covered in green scales, half-human and half-beast, were eyeing the patrol of cavalry with a greedy and brutal gaze. They let out an eerie howl and then pounced towards them.

"General."

Among the patrol, a cavalryman seated upright on his horse, holding a longbow, furrowed his brow slightly. He then turned his head to look at their general.

It was evident that the arrow just now had been shot by this cavalryman.

His eyes were sharp. Even in the dim darkness of night, he could clearly see the trajectory of the enemy. Thus, he had just discovered this monster stealthily approaching, drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and directly shot the opponent.

But unexpectedly, this monster was not acting alone. Not far from it were several more of these green-scaled creatures, moving on all fours, with a pair of small wings on their backs, capable of short gliding flights.

"Hmm."

"They're the Shrike."

The leader of the patrol, clearly addressed as "General," was a middle-aged man with black hair and a black beard on his chin. His eyes were a deep color.

He also saw this group of green-scaled, half-human, half-beast monsters. A look of disgust and hatred appeared in his eyes.

"These damned monsters!"

They were the garrison troops of the Golden Empire of Yi stationed at the Five Forts. The Five Forts were located in the northeastern frontier of the Golden Empire, five gigantic military fortresses stretching from the southern end of the Blood Sea in the north to the northern foothills of the Mountains of the Morn in the south.

They formed a curved line, guarding the borders of the Golden Empire, defending against attacks from monsters from the Grey Waste and even the Land of the Shrykes.

The walls of the Five Forts were built from molten black stone bricks, reaching a height of several hundred feet, rivaling even the height of the Wall at World's End. They stood as an absolutely impregnable barrier beyond the lands of human civilization.

According to legend, when the Five Forts, these marvels of human civilization, were first built, they were not used to resist these Shrykes and monsters from the Grey Waste.

Because although the Shrykes had a pair of small wings on their backs, they could at most glide briefly. They definitely could not fly to the top of the majestic city walls hundreds of meters high. Even the terrifying monsters from the Grey Waste would face a crushing defeat before the Five Forts.

Therefore, the ancestors of the Yi had no need to go to great lengths to build such huge fortresses guarding the empire's frontier just to fight against these low-grade races that harassed the borders.

Thus, in the ancient legends of the Yi, the origin of the Five Forts predates the Golden Empire. They were ordered to be built by the Pearl Emperor, the second emperor of the Dawn Empire era.

He was a descendant of the Maiden-Made-of-Light and the Lion of Night. The eldest son and heir of the God-on-Earth, who ruled for ten thousand years until he ascended to the stars. The Pearl Emperor ruled for over a thousand years after him before passing the throne to the Jade Emperor. The Pearl Emperor believed that with the protection of these five fortresses, they could keep the Lion of Night and his demons away from the human world.

The patrol of cavalry currently out was precisely from the garrison troops of the Golden Empire stationed in the Five Forts. They not only garrisoned the fortresses but also occasionally sent out elite scout teams to patrol, hunting down the Shrykes and monsters from the Grey Waste that tried to sneak past the Five Forts into the world of mortals.

Therefore, when this troop of Golden Empire cavalry saw the Shrykes, which were only legends to the outside world, they showed no timidity. Instead, they drew their bows, nocked their arrows, and some even unsheathed the swords at their waists, charging towards this group of monsters pouncing at them.

"Kill them!"

At the black-bearded general's command, the rest of the Golden Empire cavalry did not hesitate. As if they had rehearsed countless times, they tugged on the reins in their hands. The patrol cavalry instantly scattered in all directions like startled birds and beasts.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of hoofbeats was chaotic and noisy. The crimson-eyed, green-scaled Shrykes let out an eerie roar and pounced.

The mounts under the Golden Empire cavalry were also experienced. They often followed their masters to hunt these terrifying monsters.

If ordinary warhorses saw such monsters, where would they have seen them before?

Perhaps they would have long been frightened and fled in all directions with their riders.

However, these warhorses were all robust in build, with slender bones. Their coats shimmered with a glossy sheen under the light of the torches, clearly fine steeds. This type of horse was larger in size, faster in sprinting speed, and had a stronger impact force. Of course, there was a price to pay. They generally did not have very good endurance.

They carried their riders and scattered, while the cavalrymen on their backs also drew their bows and nocked their arrows. Cavalrymen holding high torches provided illumination for them. The archers then narrowed their eyes slightly.

Twang—

The bowstring released with a sound once more, and a lightning-fast arrow suddenly shot out from their hands.

Then, with a splat, the flying arrow swiftly pierced into the eye socket of a howling Shryke. Blood instantly spurted out, and the corpse fell headfirst to the ground.

The patrolling Golden Empire cavalrymen used their skilled horsemanship and scattered formation to confuse the attention of this group of bird-men monsters, making them lose focus, unable to concentrate on a single target. They were then defeated one by one.

Twang, twang, twang—

In the eternal night, arrow after arrow flew out, reflecting a cold light under the glow of the torches, mercilessly harvesting the lives of the Shrykes.

Soon, only a few Shrykes were left trying to escape. But at this moment, they discovered that, unknowingly, they had already been surrounded by the Golden Empire cavalry in a "scattered" formation.

They let out shrieks of terror and threat, putting on a show of strength, as if trying to scare off this group of humans. However, the riders on horseback had icy expressions, unmoved in the slightest. They all drew the swords at their waists in unison.

"Charge—"

"Kill!"

Splat, splat, splat—

Then, amid the chaos of trampling hooves, muddying the soil tainted with blood, the corpses of the Shrykes fell across the ground.

(End of chapter)

Chapter 779: The Five Forts

The last Shryke let out a desperate roar of rage, its eyes seeming to hold a human-like emotion.

It watched helplessly as its kinsmen were slaughtered, its eyes clearly conveying its anger.

It spread its wings and let out a sharp shriek, pouncing towards the general among the human cavalry.

But before it could reach him, a sharp spear pierced through its chest.

Splat—

The Golden Empire general then pulled out the spear in his hand. The Shryke's corpse fell to the ground. He wiped the blood off the spearhead with the sole of his boot, then lifted his head and spoke.

"Behead them and claim your reward!"

"Move out! Back to the city!"

"Open the gate!"

"Open the gate!"

The patrolling cavalry returned to camp. The sound of horns rang out from the towering city walls. Then the gates of the Golden City opened wide, welcoming the return of these cavalry who had earned the merit of beheading the enemy.

The Five Forts stood in the northeast of the Golden Empire. The five military fortresses were respectively called the Five Cities of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth. From north to southeast, the five cities were the Fire City, Earth City, Metal City, Water City, and Wood City.

This patrol of soldiers came from the Metal City, which was also the foremost fortress on the frontier of the empire. Located at the center of the Five Forts, it occupied a key strategic position. The other four cities had to coordinate with the Metal City to defend against monster invasions and protect the central lands from being invaded by monsters.

"Colonel."

"Colonel Xu."

"Well done."

The black-bearded middle-aged "general" who had just led the hundred-rider patrol to behead eighteen Shrykes and earned merit was quickly walking towards the general's residence in the Metal City after dismounting.

"Hmm."

This "general" surnamed Xu only nodded in response to the greetings from those beside him, brushing them off, but his pace did not slow down in the slightest.

His full name was Xu Zining, and in fact, Xu Zining was not the "general" addressed by his subordinates.

In the Golden Empire, general was a very high military rank, often held by high-ranking commanders who guarded a region or were qualified to lead an army independently. The "general" addressed by subordinates was just a way for lower-ranking military officers to address their superiors, either as flattery or by convention.

The imperial army did not have particularly strict laws prohibiting the casual use of "general," so everyone just called it that way.

Xu Ying was actually a colonel in the Metal City. The rank of colonel was neither high nor low, second only to general. He could independently lead a certain type of troops under a general, such as infantry or cavalry. He was the scout colonel of the Metal City.

Because his martial arts were exceptional, his horsemanship was superb, and his spearmanship was astonishing, he could single-handedly ride deep into the Land of the Shrykes or even the Grey Waste to hunt these monsters and return unscathed.

Therefore, this Colonel Xu had a high prestige among the soldiers of the Metal City and was respected and beloved by the soldiers.

"Colonel Xu."

However, when Xu Zining arrived at the general's residence, he found that the general of the Metal City was not in his mansion.

"Where did the general go?"

The black-bearded middle-aged colonel frowned slightly, then asked in a stern voice.

The guards on duty at the general's residence did not conceal anything and respectfully replied.

"Colonel Xu, the general went to the brothel."

"The brothel?"

The brothel was a house of pleasure.

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged colonel's brow furrowed even more, his expression clearly showing some displeasure.

As a commander, with the long night descending and a great battle looming, how could he indulge in such.

"Colonel, would you like me to take you to find the general?" the soldier on duty at the general's residence asked.

"No need, thank you."

"I'll go find him myself."

In the end, the middle-aged colonel loosened his brow. The general of the Metal City was the commander of the entire Metal City, appointed by the emperor. Although he was somewhat dissatisfied, he could only be angry but not dare to speak out.

The Five Forts were five giant military fortresses and also five cities. Each of these cities was built on a very large scale.

Each city could house over ten thousand imperial soldiers who could fight on the battlefield. There were also many ordinary residents in the cities. Although they were military fortresses for defending against monster invasions, they were also five cities of the empire.

And since they were cities with ordinary residents, it was unavoidable for them to have many non-military facilities, such as brothels.

However, the main task of the Five Forts was still to defend against monster invasions, so they bristled with spikes like a hedgehog baring its teeth and claws.

The Five Forts also had granaries, armories, and other facilities underground, where large quantities of grain and military supplies such as swords, bows, and crossbows were stored, enough to sustain the Five Forts under siege for over ten years without falling from within.

Because from the start of their construction, the Five Forts, like the Wall at World's End on the other side of the world, were built to defend against legendary enemies.

On the Westeros side, it was the White Walkers, while on the Golden Empire side, it was the demons under the Lion of Night.

However, the difference was that on the Westeros side, there were numerous countries. From the Age of Heroes to the present, hundreds of countries had emerged, big and small. Westeros had not been unified since before Aegon's Conquest, so people gradually became immersed in internal strife, forgetting the true enemy from the north.

The Golden Empire of Yi was born after the long night eight thousand years ago, when the declining Dawn Empire collapsed during the long night.

But the Five Forts, ordered to be built by the Pearl Emperor, were built thousands of years before the long night descended. The construction of the Five Forts was much earlier than the Wall at World's End in Westeros, and the terrifying monsters they defended against were different from the White Walkers.

However, tens of thousands of years had passed, yet the people of Yi had never forgotten their true enemy.

Because although from the Dawn Empire to the establishment of the Golden Empire, the empire had already gone through eleven dynasties, it had always maintained a unified stance, dividing when united for too long and uniting when divided for too long.

The current Azure Dynasty was even more fragmented. The emperor's orders did not leave the Yi capital. Princes and nobles were everywhere, and the vassal kings were fighting among themselves.

In the north of the empire, there was even a general who commanded his own troops, even donning the yellow robe and proclaiming himself the "Founder of the Orange Dynasty." He confronted the current emperor, Pu Hai.

General Bo Xiong, because of his bravery, familiarity with military texts and strategies, and repeated campaigns deep into the grasslands to strike at the restless neighbors to the north, was even called the "Hammer of the Jogos Nhai" by the people and soldiers of northern Yi.

However, even though the Azure Dynasty was now fragmented, the overall framework of the country remained unchanged. The elite imperial garrison stationed at the Five Forts listened to the orders from the emperor in the Yi capital but did not obey his decrees.

Because their mission was to guard the borders of the empire and repel the demons under the legendary Lion of Night and the monsters from the Grey Waste, not to quell rebellions.

If troops were withdrawn, the Five Forts would inevitably be left empty. If the demons from the northeast broke through the Five Forts, the consequences would be unimaginable. Therefore, throughout the dynasties, the garrison of the Five Forts had always had this attitude towards the emperor's orders.

The Five Forts had never fallen since their establishment tens of thousands of years ago.

Chapter 780: Strike at the Heart

"General!"

However, when the black-bearded middle-aged colonel found the general of the Metal City, he was indeed indulging in pleasure at the brothel.

Three or four scantily clad, flirtatious girls were sitting around the Metal City general. One was even sitting on his lap, holding a fruit plate and feeding him with her mouth.

The girl kissed the general's stubbly cheek lightly like a little bird pecking, then tried to run away. Unexpectedly, the general reached back and directly embraced her waist, then kissed her roughly with his coarse lips.

"General~"

The general's actions instantly stirred up a flurry of flirtation and tittering in the room.

The black-bearded middle-aged colonel stood outside the door like this, his face solemn, but he did not say a word.

At this moment, the loosely dressed Metal City general inside the room finally "noticed" the middle-aged colonel standing outside the door.

"Hmm? Xu Ying, when did you arrive?"

Then the Metal City general waved his hand slightly, dismissing the girls beside him.

"Since Lord Xu has come, official business takes precedence."

"You all go down first."

Upon hearing the general's words, the girls immediately pouted and complained coquettishly.

"Then, General, remember to come find us again~"

"Definitely!"

"Definitely!"

The Metal City general nodded repeatedly with a smile on his face. Only after everyone had left, leaving only the middle-aged colonel and the Metal City general in the room, did he turn his head and ask.

"Lord Xu, I was just about to look for you. What a coincidence."

"What did you want to see me about?"

"This humble one does not dare to presume the title of lord."

Xu Ying heard the Metal City general's words and spoke solemnly in a deep voice.

In the Golden Empire, there were strict regulations for the title of "lord." Only those with the rank of general and above, or princes and nobles, were qualified to be called lords.

Although the rank of colonel in the military was second only to general, it was clearly not qualified.

"General, with the long night descending, the Shrykes appearing outside the city have been increasing."

"There are even monsters from the Grey Waste."

As the scout colonel of the Metal City, one of the Five Forts, Xu Ying had been leading cavalry patrols to sweep the areas around the Metal City in recent days, clearing out these Shrykes that had "trespassed" into the empire's borders.

He had not yet encountered monsters from the Grey Waste. These monsters were not as easy to deal with as the "weak" Shrykes.

Monsters from the Grey Waste could easily kill a squad of ten Golden Empire cavalry patrolmen, and such tragedies had occurred before.

To deal with monsters from the Grey Waste, it was necessary to mobilize more soldiers and heavy weapons such as ballistae and war chariots to kill them.

Therefore, as the scout colonel, Xu Ying had recently changed the scale of the patrol squads from ten men per squad, sending out ten squads a day, to a hundred men per squad, sending out two squads a day, constantly sweeping out the trespassing enemies to protect the safety of the people in the rear.

"We should unite with the other four cities to send light cavalry deep into the Land of the Shrykes and strike at the heart, nipping the danger in the bud." "At the same time, this can also probe the reality of the Grey Waste. If there are movements in the Grey Waste, our troops can also make preparations early."

He proposed that the Metal City general unite with the generals of the other four cities—the Fire City, Earth City, Wood City, and Water City—to form a joint army of the Five Forts. They would take the initiative and directly penetrate deep into the Land of the Shrykes, catching them off guard and nipping the danger in the cradle.

The Land of the Shrykes was also located on the continent of Essos. To its northeast were the Grey Waste and the Cannibal Sands, to the west was the Blood Sea, to the south were the Five Forts, and to the southeast was the Great Sand Sea. Within the Land of the Shrykes, there was also a legendary terrifying ruined city called K'Dath.

The garrison here at the Five Forts believed that the attacks from the northeast mostly originated from the movements in the Grey Waste and K'Dath.

Because the Shrykes would not actively approach the empire's borders in their daily lives. Although these Shrykes were regarded as monsters by the people of the empire, they actually possessed a certain level of intelligence and were a low-level civilization of humanoid race.

These Shrykes knew that approaching the empire's borders would face the hunting of scout squads. However, they still took great risks to constantly migrate closer. This indicated that there were problems behind them.

There were people, or rather, some kind of monster, or ancient evil god, driving these Shrykes, forcing them to constantly flee towards the empire's borders, serving as the vanguard to impact the Five Forts.

And this city called K'Dath was the core threat to the security of the empire's borders.

Legend had it that K'Dath was the first city in the world, even older than time itself. It was said that unspeakable evil ceremonies were held in K'Dath to satisfy the greed of mad deities. Its terrifying reputation frightened even the Shrykes living south of this place.

Xu Ying's proposed idea was to take the initiative, leading the imperial cavalry to launch a surprise attack directly into K'Dath, completely destroying this evil heart, burning the statues of evil gods inside, smashing their altars, and then setting everything ablaze.

However, Xu Ying's worrisome words also made the smile on the face of the Metal City general in front of him slowly fade.

"Hmm..."

Because the history of Yi had never been interrupted, the descent of the long night was a major crisis recorded in the entire history of the empire.

The people of Yi had detailed records of the entire process of the descent of the long night and the collapse of the Dawn Empire. In this regard, their records were more detailed than those on the Westeros side.

Therefore, the people of Yi were more fully prepared for the crisis, not only in terms of material preparation but also in psychological construction. However, the plan put forward by Xu Ying was undoubtedly risky, simply dancing on the edge of a knife.

If something went wrong, this joint cavalry force from the Five Forts would be sending themselves to their deaths for nothing, and not a single one would escape. After all, the greatest advantage of the imperial garrison against these demons and monsters was the city walls of the Five Forts. Giving up the city walls and taking the initiative to attack indeed carried too much risk.

But correspondingly, if successful, the gains would also be substantial.

Risks and opportunities often coexisted. It depended on the attitude of the commander.

"Hmm."

The Metal City general's expression was solemn. He pondered for a moment, then finally nodded. He neither agreed nor directly refused.

"Hmm, Xu Ying, you're right."

"I will consider it."

Hearing that the general had listened to his suggestion and said he would consider it, the scout colonel of the Metal City also secretly let out a sigh of relief.

However, before he could relax, he heard his immediate superior change the subject and speak again.

"But for you, this matter can be put aside for now."

"Huh?"

The black-bearded middle-aged colonel was slightly stunned.

"Have you heard of the Valyrian Empire?"

Chapter 781: The Dothraki Invasion

For the people of the Golden Dynasty, their realm was the celestial empire of the Middle Kingdom. They paid little attention to the civilizations beyond their borders unless their territory was encroached upon or outsiders came knocking. When enemies arrived, they fought back; when friends visited, they welcomed them.

Many years ago, a vast nomadic tribe from the western world had made an arduous journey through the Steel Road, traversing the Bone Mountains to reach the eastern lands.

The Steel Road ran from the southern end of Qohor to Kayakayanaya, connecting the Dothraki holy site of Mother of Mountains with the major town of Shangmai, where the Golden Dynasty's great general Bo Xiong was stationed with his troops.

Thus, when the "Khal of Khals" and "rider of the world's finest horses" led over a hundred thousand Dothraki screamers through the Jogos Nhai plains to the borders of the Golden Dynasty, tensions immediately escalated, with the ominous clouds of war looming over the land.

This foreign army that had suddenly appeared at the border sent an eastern emissary, a woman wearing a red lacquered mask, her body shrouded in a black cloak that revealed nothing but her eyes.

This eastern envoy introduced herself as "the Basilisk Who Crosses the Shadows," speaking fluent Golden Tongue. "Crossing the Shadows" was a veiled term referring to those hailing from or near the Shadow Lands of Asshai.

This shadow binder from Asshai, representing the Dothraki, sought an audience with General Bo Xiong to negotiate. She requested that the general clear a path, allowing the horselords to cross through the Golden Dynasty's territory to reach the Shadow Lands.

She claimed this could save the fate of the entire world.

However, the Basilisk's request was met with a resolute refusal from General Bo Xiong.

Although he looked down upon the King of Yi Du, Bu Hai, for wanting to establish his own kingdom, Bo Xiong could not, under any circumstances, allow such a large foreign cavalry force to enter the dynasty's territory. Doing so would make him a notorious sinner for all eternity, regardless of whether this was a Jogos Nhai ploy.

Thus, the negotiations broke down, with the clouds of war looming over the land. The Basilisk had no choice but to return to the khalasar, urging the Khal of Khals to wage war against the Golden Dynasty.

The Dothraki had crossed the Bone Mountains via the Steel Road and continued along the edge of the Great Sand Sea. This route was devised by the Basilisk and her two fellow shadow binders.

This path allowed them to largely avoid crossing the Jogos Nhai plains by skirting along the periphery. The harsh environment and severe sandstorms near the Great Sand Sea meant that few Jogos Nhai tribes were encamped in the vicinity.

Although the Jogos Nhai were also nomads, appearing shorter and stouter than the Dothraki, they were equally fierce, notorious in the East for their cruelty and bellicosity.

They had warred with nearly all their neighbors. To the northeast, they had reduced the Nefer Kingdom to a single city. They had also battled the Jhogwin Principalities, the successor states of Kayakayanaya, and even Qohor.

The mighty Golden Dynasty had also clashed with the Jogos Nhai in the past. The young emperor Luo Bao had once led an army of 300,000 deep into the steppes, undeterred by Jogos Nhai tribute, hostages, or declarations of fealty, with the sole purpose of exterminating their race. Alas, he ultimately failed.

Thus, the Basilisk's route aimed to avoid conflict with the Jogos Nhai by circumventing their core territories. Fortunately, the Jogos Nhai chose not to clash with this passing Dothraki horde. Their jhattar opted to let this calamity pass onto the Golden Dynasty, allowing the vast Dothraki khalasar to reach the empire's borders.

However, upon reaching the frontier, the Dothraki could no longer avoid confrontation.

They had to cross through the Golden Dynasty's territory, traversing this great empire to reach the Shadow Lands.

The imperial border ran along the shores of the impassable Bleeding Sea. If the Dothraki could not pass through here, they would have to once again cross the Jogos Nhai plains and detour through the Nefer Kingdom.

The Nefer Kingdom, weakened by years of Jogos Nhai raids, was no longer a concern. But the road beyond Nefer was treacherous.

They would have to traverse the fabled Cannibal Sands and the vast Grey Waste.

These lands were forbidden zones, their very names evoking death. The Khal of Khals had unified all the khalasars, gathering over 100,000 Dothraki horselords. Yet the Asshai'i Basilisk knew that if they tried to force their way through the Cannibal Sands and Grey Waste, even all these warriors would not suffice, and few would emerge alive.

Thus, the route devised by the Basilisk and her fellow shadow binders was already the only theoretically viable path through the terror-filled "Eastern Hells".

Alas, they ultimately hit a snag with the Golden Dynasty's General Bo Xiong.

The indomitable Dothraki subsequently launched an attack on the Golden Dynasty's border, sparking a prolonged and fierce war.

Despite their ferocity, the Dothraki ultimately suffered a crushing defeat at the empire's frontier, with tens of thousands of corpses littering the land, providing days of feasting for the vultures. Dothraki blood dyed the earth red.

Beaten back by General Bo Xiong at the Golden Dynasty's border, the Dothraki were forced to flee, gradually retreating along their original path back to the Great Grass Sea.

This was the most intense clash between East and West in recent years, allowing many in the Golden Dynasty to learn about the people from the other side of the world.

"Valyria?" Xu Ying pondered for a moment, then nodded. "I've heard of it."

"Valyria was once a great nation that fell into ruin. I heard it was recently reestablished in the West."

The Golden Dynasty also had records of Valyria, roughly stating: "A realm akin to the Dynasty, rearing fire-breathing beasts that consume gold, revered by all nations as Hindustan, poised for great unification."

The fourth emperor of the Golden Dynasty, Chai Du, had even taken a Valyrian noblewoman as a concubine and kept a dragon in the palace.

"Mm, very good!" exclaimed General Jin Cheng, standing in the brothel clad only in a white undergarment. Hearing Xu Ying's words, he stroked his chin in satisfaction, especially pleased by the recitation of ancient texts about Valyria.

"Xu Ying, it just so happens that an imperial edict has arrived, requesting the dispatch of a military officer to Valyria as an envoy," Jin Cheng remarked. "I think you would be perfect for the role."

Chapter 782: Envoy to Valyria

At the far end of the world, an obscure frontier officer was about to be unfortunately dispatched to the West as an envoy to discuss methods of jointly resisting the Long Night.

In the eyes of the Golden Dynasty, only the resurgent Valyrian Empire could stand shoulder to shoulder with them in this world.

Alas, the current emperor Bu Hai had his power hollowed out, his ambitions left unrealized.

He wanted to send civil and military officials from the capital as envoys to the West, but with the Long Night descending, sailing in the dark was an extremely perilous undertaking. None among the court officials were willing to go.

Left with no choice, Emperor Bu Hai could only send a missive to the Five Forts, requesting the garrison there to dispatch an officer to represent the imperial court as an envoy to the West, to exchange knowledge and establish diplomatic relations with the mighty Valyrian Empire, discussing ways to jointly combat the Long Night.

Bu Hai was not actually an incompetent emperor. The state of the nation was already in shambles when he inherited the throne, and he currently had no opportunity to showcase his talents.

When the Long Night suddenly descended, the East was still shrouded in darkness. Many people woke up to find it still dark outside and went back to sleep, only to be struck with terror upon realizing the anomaly.

However, when Emperor Bu Hai received this news, he was both shocked and delighted. He saw it as a perfect opportunity to sweep away the vassal kings and princes, restoring the authority of the imperial court.

Thus, he hoped to form an alliance with the Valyrian Empire to jointly resist the darkness.

"An imperial edict?" The innocent officer revealed a look of despair. Although the emperor's power was currently trampled upon and the nation in turmoil, an imperial edict was still not something a mere officer like him could ignore.

He was destined to soon board a fleet heading to the West. Xu Ying had already mentally prepared himself to die in a foreign land.

Given the geographical location of the Golden Dynasty, the outside world was teeming with demons and monsters, with only the Golden Dynasty at the center being a paradise on earth.

Therefore, the frontier people always maintained a high level of vigilance towards the outside world. He would rather charge alone into the Grey Waste to hunt monsters than travel to the western world.

But he had no choice, deeply aware of the important mission he shouldered. He could only steel himself and embark on this journey.

After all, this concerned the emperor's expectations and the safety of even more commoners. With the heavy responsibility of the nation on his shoulders, he had no choice but to go.

"In three days," General Jin Cheng patted the scout officer's shoulder, looking into his eyes with a rare sincerity, "a delegation will come to retrieve you."

"Old Xu, until we meet again."

On the other side, in Westeros.

The winter winds were bleak and desolate.

Before the Long Night descended, it was still the height of summer in King's Landing, with no signs of seasonal change, let alone a direct shift from summer to winter, skipping autumn entirely.

However, since the Long Night fell and the sun vanished, another lethal threat had also emerged.

Now, even the most pedantic maesters would no longer harbor doubts about the seasonal issue, because after the sun disappeared, the temperature of the entire world began to slowly decline.

Although the drop was not very rapid at first, it soon plummeted like a cliff.

Snow was now falling over King's Landing, and the Reach witnessed snowfall unseen for many years.

However, Viserys, the backbone of the empire as its emperor, was not currently in King's Landing, nor was he in Highgarden. Instead, he had ridden his giant dragon to the Wall.

The massive breach in the Wall, once collapsed when the King-Beyond-the-Wall blew the Horn of Winter, still remained.

With the current state of human construction, there was no way to plug such a huge hole. Moreover, even if it could be rebuilt, it would be of little use without the protection of magical powers, remaining a point of breach for the White Walkers' attacks.

The wonders of the Wall and many other structures around the world actually originated from an era when magic was abundant, but much of that magic had been lost. Now, atop the massive breach in the Wall, only a battlement had been built as a makeshift measure.

The other two dragonriders of the imperial family, the young queen Rhaenys and Daenerys, the Lady of Dragonstone, had also flown their respective dragons to the Wall.

Rhaenys had entrusted her son to the care of her sister Allayne, while the other princess, Daenerys, seemed to have 'put aside past grudges' and voluntarily flown to the Wall to rendezvous with Viserys and Rhaenys.

As for the remaining five dragons—Vhagar, Tyraxes, Meleys, Syrax, and Silverwing—they had been temporarily left behind due to the uncertain situation.

Vhagar and Tyraxes had received instructions from Viserys to follow their respective riders and protect their safety, as well as safeguard Highgarden.

Although the two giant dragons might not heed Allayne's commands, it was enough that their riders, Diana and Haelos, would listen to her.

Viserys certainly did not want his home to be raided while he was at the front lines.

"Your Grace." "Your Grace."

Snow continued to swirl atop the Wall. Viserys had ridden out amidst the wind and snow to patrol, then returned, brushing the snowflakes off his body. The people seated inside the room hastily stood up to pay their respects.

The current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was still the 997th, Jeor Mormont.

Old Bear's hair was entirely white, his shaggy gray-white beard hanging down to his chest, his pair of dim yellow eyes surrounded by crow's feet.

Viserys's great-uncle Maester Aemon was also present, along with the long-unseen former Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, another old acquaintance.

Lord Eddard had not remained a mere foot soldier. With his abilities, seniority, and the influence of House Stark, he now served as the Master-at-Arms of the Night's Watch, a role akin to a deputy commander.

The Night's Watch currently had a strength of several thousand men, mostly criminals exiled to the frontier in recent years. The northern forces sworn to the Night's Watch numbered around 30,000.

These were not entirely composed of northerners but had been gradually transferred and gathered in recent years through the decisions of the imperial Small Council.

The imperial leadership had never forgotten the powerful enemy waiting for them in the North. Ever since unifying Westeros, Viserys had been systematically stockpiling food in preparation for the winter, although he had not anticipated the advent of the Long Night.

However, due to the preparations made, when the Long Night descended, although the imperial Small Council was somewhat panicked, the overall situation remained within controllable limits.

"Now is not the time for despair," Viserys said. "How is the gathering of the various armies progressing?"

In the rebuilt command center of Castle Black, Viserys, the commanders and generals of the Night's Watch, Rhaenys, and Daenerys had all gathered.

Although Rhaenys and Daenerys were women, none of those present underestimated them, for they were the main force of the imperial army—they were dragonriders.

On the other side, a steward was reporting on the convergence of the various armies.

During the pre-battle meeting, everyone held their breath, not daring to speak. On the other side, Daenerys, standing to the side, slightly pursed her lips, then secretly glanced at Viserys, who was seated in the center.

Chapter 783: Countermeasures

The news of Ib's fall had yet to reach Westeros, as Ib was extremely remote, with Far Ib sharing the same longitude as the Bone Mountains, even farther than the Red Waste of Vaes Dothrak.

For the Westerosi, Ib was nearly as distant as the Summer Isles and Yi Ti, all belonging to the ends of the world.

After presiding over the highest-level meeting of the imperial military, Viserys donned a dark fur cloak and returned to his bedchamber.

The wind and snow continued to rage outside.

His wife, Rhaenys Targaryen, was clad in a suit of silver dragon scale armor, with a thick white fur mantle draped over her shoulders for warmth, along with a black and red cloak.

Her figure was graceful and tall, with a pair of deep brown eyes. At her waist hung the Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister.

"My husband."

Not long after Viserys had returned to his bedchamber in the newly rebuilt Castle Black, his wife Rhaenys entered the room.

"Rhaenys."

The two embraced briefly, then parted.

When the Long Night descended, Viserys was not at Highgarden. At that time, the entire world had plunged into chaos, and Highgarden was naturally no exception. From the royal family members and the Highgarden steward to the common maids and stablehands, everyone was in a state of panic, believing that the end of the world was nigh.

Viserys was in King's Landing, not Highgarden, at the time. Thus, the young queen Rhaenys had taken the initiative to step forward, summoning her companion Rhaegal to protect Highgarden and save this imperial royal garden from chaos.

Not long after, nearly all the nobles of the Riverlands had sent their families to Highgarden, as they had no overlord above them. As a direct royal domain, they could only come to Highgarden to seek the royal family's protection when faced with problems.

Even without Viserys's help, Rhaenys had proven her mettle. She single-handedly held Highgarden, allowing all the Riverlander nobles' families to enter the castle and making proper arrangements for them.

Rhaenys's capabilities had earned the unanimous praise of the Riverlander nobles' families, who had loudly chanted the name of the Princess of Summerhall.

However, Daenerys had also suddenly left Highgarden before the Long Night fell. Rhaenys did not know where Daenerys had gone.

Although by seniority, Daenerys was Rhaenys's aunt, they should have been sisters by age. In fact, Rhaenys had even taken care of Daenerys when she was younger, back when Daenerys was still a swaddled infant.

Thus, their relationship was complex. As they grew up, Daenerys developed more of her own ideas, and Rhaenys could no longer control her.

After the Long Night fell, Rhaenys had initially been worried about Daenerys's safety, but seeing her fly to the Wall as well, Rhaenys had breathed a sigh of relief.

However, Rhaenys was unaware of what had transpired in King's Landing. Daenerys had once argued with Viserys, then angrily flown to Dragonstone alone. Rhaenys had only sensed that Daenerys's expression was a bit odd when they met today.

"Do you know what's wrong with Dany?" Rhaenys asked after exchanging some brief pleasantries with Viserys in the room, especially after experiencing the terror of a disaster. "I felt her expression was a bit strange when she saw me today."

Viserys fell silent for a moment upon hearing his wife's words. He recalled what Daenerys had said not long ago, especially her accusations towards Rhaenys, but he did not voice these thoughts and instead shook his head.

"I don't know."

"Is that so?" The brown-haired female dragonrider furrowed her brow at his response but did not dwell on it further.

"You should have returned to Highgarden before coming to the Wall," Rhaenys remarked. "Sister Allayne and the children need you very much."

When the Long Night fell, Highgarden had descended into chaos. If not for Rhaenys stepping forward, who knows what state it would have been in.

However, when the Long Night descended, Viserys was not at Highgarden but in King's Landing. In King's Landing, he had discussed with the Small Council ministers and swiftly arranged a series of preparations to deal with the Long Night.

These included extending the lockdown of the city to curb panic, strictly inspecting incoming and outgoing ships and caravans, prohibiting all food from leaving King's Landing, sealing all granaries, banning public and private sales to prevent skyrocketing food prices, cracking down on the black market, and rationing food as needed.

The Valyrian Empire's series of political measures had played a very prominent role. King's Landing had become the large city in the world to suppress the chaos of the Long Night in the shortest time, while Pentos and Andalos had also quickly followed suit to maintain stability.

As for the empire's other major cities like Oldtown and Gulltown, they had all experienced some unrest to varying degrees, while the overseas city-states were even more of a mess.

They had never thought to stockpile food in advance, and the limitations of the Free Cities' system meant they lacked a stable, unified voice to the outside world.

The magister councils were a commercial battlefield, with the magisters harboring their own agendas.

When the Long Night fell, they were slow to react, not immediately realizing what it was. However, when they finally realized that this was the Long Night of eight thousand years ago descending once more, they began frantically buying up all the food supplies in the market.

With their immense wealth, they instantly emptied all the local cities' food stores, directly causing black market food prices to skyrocket.

Even if the Long Night lasted for decades, these magisters would not starve. However, the people who truly needed food could not obtain it even with money or could not afford it, leaving them to starve to death.

In contrast, the measures taken by the empire could be considered swift and effective.

During this time in King's Landing, Viserys was busy with these matters. Once the issues in King's Landing were dealt with, he had mounted his dragon and flown to the Wall.

"My fault," Viserys sighed, but the brown-haired young queen before him blinked her eyes slightly.

"Of course, I know you have many things to attend to, especially with such a disaster occurring," Rhaenys said. "You are the backbone of the entire nation, Viserys."

"Your identity is not just as Sister Allayne's and my husband," she continued. "More people need you."

"We'll overcome this disaster, won't we?"

Viserys could only remain silent in response to Rhaenys's words. In truth, he had no certainty either.

The Long Night was an invisible, intangible enemy, with no clear basis. It left him at a loss, not knowing how to proceed. He could only do what he could and leave the rest to fate or wait for their enemy to make a move and reveal a weakness.

However, faced with Rhaenys's expectant gaze, he naturally could not voice his true thoughts, for as Rhaenys had said, he was everyone's pillar of support. Everyone was looking to him.

If even the emperor lost heart, the fight against the Long Night would be lost before it even began.

Thus, after a moment of silence, Viserys did not disappoint Rhaenys's expectations and nodded.

"Mm."

Hearing his assurance, much of the worry in Rhaenys's heart dissipated. Her child was only three years old. She did not want Haelos's memories of the sky to be entirely black.

"I'm going on patrol," Rhaenys said, standing up. Viserys nodded, and she turned to leave the room.

Chapter 784: The Far North

Clack, clack, clack—

Rhaenys's boots produced crisp sounds as they trod upon the corridor. The valiant young queen, draped in a black and red cloak, vanished like a burning flame at the end of the hallway.

Soon, a resounding dragon's roar echoed overhead. Rhaenys, mounted on Rhaegal, patrolled the entirety of the Wall and the lands beyond it to the north.

The three dragonriders of House Targaryen now took turns riding their dragons on patrols to prevent the White Walkers and the army of the dead from suddenly appearing at the foot of the Wall and catching them off guard.

The imperial forces now held fast atop the Wall, having learned from the lessons of the previous war between humans and the White Walkers.

Faced with an enemy like the White Walkers, human soldiers without the protection of walls were lambs to the slaughter. Moreover, fortifications were humanity's advantage over the White Walkers, who did not construct siege weapons. Thus, only by holding fast in defensive works could they maximally hinder the enemy.

The entire Wall was now on high alert, with over 30,000 imperial soldiers garrisoned along its 300-mile length. More than 100,000 troops were gathering in the empire's rear, converging from all corners of the realm—the Riverlands, Dorne, the Vale, the Westerlands, and more. They were ceaselessly marching towards the North.

Once the empire's 100,000-strong army assembled at the foot of the Wall, bolstered by the eight dragons of House Targaryen, the Wall would become the most impregnable barrier in the human world.

If the White Walkers wanted to breach it by force, they would inevitably pay a tremendous price.

On the other end of the corridor, a silver-haired girl clad in a snow-white gown and a white fur cloak watched Rhaenys's departing figure, her pair of pale violet eyes tinged with melancholy.

She now increasingly regretted the words she had impulsively uttered back then, but words spoken were like water spilled—difficult to retrieve.

Thus, whenever Daenerys faced Rhaenys's lovely smile now, she would feel a hint of unease in her heart, subconsciously avoiding her gaze.

Only then did Rhaenys notice that Daenerys had become a bit strange.

However, just as Daenerys was lost in thought, her hand grasping the railing, she suddenly sensed a shadow falling at her feet.

The silver-haired girl was startled, abruptly snapping out of her reverie, but when she raised her head, she saw that the person standing before her was none other than her beloved brother.

Daenerys had lost her parents from the moment of her birth. Her father, Aerys II, had died before she was born, and her mother, Queen Rhaella, had perished in childbirth. Thus, to Daenerys, Viserys was her everything.

Her greatest fear was that Viserys would abandon her.

"Viserys!" Daenerys tightly embraced the silver-haired youth before her, and Viserys hugged his sister in return. He could sense that the girl's arms were holding him with great strength, as if unwilling to let him go.

Then, Viserys sighed and gently ruffled her hair. "Dany, can we talk in private?"

Days passed, one after another. The sun rose as usual from various directions. Spending every day mingling with the dead, Benjen felt he had nearly become one of them, drifting aimlessly amidst the vast army, without purpose or destination.

Fortunately, Benjen still had a companion.

Thanks to the small black stone Rhaegar had given her, Lyanna remained lucid. She would occasionally keep Benjen company and chat, but more often than not, she had to keep her distance, lest she arouse the suspicion of the other White Walkers.

After all, aside from the two of them, the rest of the army of the dead were all muddled monsters. Even the more advanced White Walkers were puppets on strings, at least in Lyanna's eyes.

They only acted according to the Night King's commands, lacking their own opinions and thoughts, let alone knowing who they were.

If these White Walkers knew their identities, perhaps they would not choose to fight for the Night King. After all, among them were many ancestors of House Stark, generations of Kings in the North, including some of great renown.

"Lyanna, where are we now?" Benjen asked, quickly rising from the snow as he saw the gray-haired woman approaching him.

To prevent other White Walkers from seeing them together and growing suspicious—after all, the wights were all mindless cannon fodder, while the White Walkers were their commanders—even though the White Walkers did not usually communicate, they at least possessed the ability to do so. A White Walker and a wight constantly being together would undoubtedly arouse the suspicion of the other White Walkers.

Thus, every time Benjen and Lyanna met in secret, they would leave a mark in advance to signal each other. Then, one of them would quietly leave the army, and the other would follow soon after.

Breaking away from the army was a common occurrence among the dead. Not all wights were strong and sturdy; some were old, their bones loose. A long march could easily cause their legs to fall off, forcing them to crawl after the army while clutching their severed limbs. Others might crash into trees and damage themselves or simply get lost.

Benjen, of course, would not harm himself. Even though he was now a walking corpse, he still cherished his body.

Over the past few years, he had followed the army of the dead on countless battles, north and south, witnessing both the enchanting beauty and the myriad bizarre monsters of the far north.

"I don't know," Lyanna replied, looking around.

Everything was a vast expanse of white. Perhaps because the sun had made a rare appearance in the far north, the wind and snow had temporarily abated while they spoke.

Then, Lyanna shook her head. "But I think we might be heading back."

Based on the direction Lyanna had discerned, they were likely moving south now, having previously marched north for an unknown distance.

"Is that so?" Benjen's heart sank upon hearing Lyanna's words. "Does that mean we might soon attack the Wall?"

The gray-haired woman fell silent. She, too, recalled that when she had first been resurrected, she had killed countless humans and even shot an arrow at Robert to avenge Rhaegar.

However, Lyanna had not intended to kill Robert. Perhaps it was because she knew he truly loved her, but she also knew Robert would never love her alone.

Thus, at the last moment, her aim had shifted slightly. Otherwise, with Lyanna's archery skills, that arrow would have taken Robert's life.

"Let's take things as they come," Lyanna finally said.

Chapter 785: Disaster Strikes

"This is the only way," Benjen remarked, his expression tinged with sorrow as he nodded.

Although he did not wish to become humanity's enemy, he equally did not wish to die. Otherwise, he would not have hesitated at the last moment when attempting to assassinate the Night King.

Lyanna felt the same. She did not want to oppose humanity, but she was also unwilling to lose her life for it.

At some point, a subtle shift had occurred in Benjen and Lyanna's mindsets.

They seemed to no longer consider themselves human in their hearts, instead beginning to ponder issues from the perspective of the dead.

However, the two had indeed long been listed among the dead in the human world. Benjen had ventured beyond the Wall, never to return. Initially, his elder brother had firmly believed that Benjen was not dead and would return one day.

Yet, as days turned into years, four years had passed in the blink of an eye, and the horns signaling the return of rangers had never sounded atop the Wall. Even Eddard, once the most steadfast, had gradually begun to waver.

He, too, had started to believe that Benjen had truly perished beyond the Wall.

He believed Benjen had died in his stead because, at that time, it was Eddard who had wanted to venture beyond the Wall alone to search for Lyanna. However, Benjen had stopped him, insisting on going in Eddard's place.

Thus, for a long time, Eddard had been mired in regret and guilt, unable to extricate himself.

On the other hand, Lyanna and Benjen, who had remained in the vast wilderness of the far north, were equally unaware.

They did not know the suffering and torment the human world was currently enduring.

The two did not even know that the Long Night had descended.

Because their current location was at the very apex of the world, an extremely unique place.

As such, Benjen was unsure if it was his imagination, but he always felt that the sun rose from the east one day, then from the north the next, occasionally even from the west or south.

Benjen did not know if it was his illusion or if his sense of direction was mistaken, but everything here was chaotic. There were dozens of consecutive days of daylight and equally dozens of consecutive nights of darkness.

However, limited by his shallow knowledge, Benjen could only attribute everything to the fact that they were in the White Walkers' "homeland," a land of mystery and magic.

Meanwhile, the human world remained blissfully unaware. For them, the precious sun still rose and set as usual in the far north.

Benjen and Lyanna continued marching southward with the vast army of the dead. They had expected to eventually see the Wall, but before they could lay eyes on it, they first encountered some human villages.

The people here wore thick animal furs. They were not tall, with broad noses and straight black hair. They shouted in an incomprehensible language, wielding bows, harpoons, axes, and other weapons as they fiercely resisted the White Walkers' assault.

"Who are these people?" Benjen and Lyanna were both baffled upon seeing these unknown tribes. "After being away from home for years, have these people already occupied the lands north of the Wall?"

The language these people spoke was one they had never heard before. Moreover, they differed from the prevalent peoples of Westeros—the remnants of the First Men, the Andals, and the Rhoynar.

These people seemed to bear some resemblance to the Ibbenese.

They were adept at using harpoons, axes, and other weapons, suggesting they were skilled at fishing on the ice of the far north and could hunt large, fierce beasts like snow bears, musk oxen, and reindeer.

In appearance, these people also shared similarities with the Ibbenese, with square teeth, broad shoulders, and chests. To stay warm, their bodies were also quite hairy.

During his time in the Night's Watch, Benjen had executed some smugglers caught supplying armor and weapons to the wildlings, including a few Ibbenese. Benjen still had some memory of them.

"Could we have reached Ib?" Benjen wondered as he watched these primitive tribespeople struggle in vain. Despite their brave and fierce warriors, they were still no match for the surging army of the dead. In a mere moment, the once bustling village had completely fallen.

These people, who closely resembled the Ibbenese, had also joined the ranks of the dead, becoming wights.

The Night King was not present, but the army of the dead still had a single voice.

Perhaps the Night King had delegated command to another. Benjen recognized him as "The Hungry Wolf," Theon Stark, a King in the North and head of House Stark from thousands of years ago.

He had led the northern armies to defeat the Andal invader Argos "The Sevenstars," conquered the Three Sisters, and attacked the Fingers.

Benjen had seen his statue in the crypts of Winterfell, but Theon did not recognize him as a descendant.

"The Hungry Wolf" Theon now served as the commander of the entire army of the dead. He could convey orders to all the White Walkers and wights without needing to speak.

The army of the dead then razed the village and, without any respite, continued marching south.

Only then did Benjen and Lyanna realize a grave issue.

"This can't possibly be Ib!" Benjen exclaimed, his voice tinged with bitterness. Because even with his limited education, he had still received a noble's tutelage. He knew Ib was an island, not a continent connected to the great wilderness.

"It also can't be beyond the Wall," Benjen added, his voice slightly bitter. Because in his time beyond the Wall, he had never seen villages or tribes like these.

The houses here were extremely peculiar, with stone, wood, and even ice dwellings. Half of the structures were sunken into the ground, with very low doorways.

Moreover, the environment here differed from the lands beyond the Wall that Benjen was familiar with. It was even colder here, although Benjen could no longer feel the cold. However, it was evident from the people's attire.

Icebergs floated on the sea's surface. In the distance, with the aid of the sun's radiance, one could see large floating islands—in reality, massive icebergs—atop which more tribal people gazed in their direction.

The sunlight shining upon these drifting giant ice blocks reflected a dazzling brilliance.

"We took a wrong turn," Benjen said, his voice filled with confusion. "This is the other end of the great wilderness."

"An unknown world, an unrecorded civilization."

"Where have we ended up?"

Benjen's bitter voice carried a sense of bewilderment. This was even more despairing than attacking the Wall. Yet, the yearning for the unknown that had been brewing in his chest continued to surge.

On the other side of the world, news of Ib's fall had already taken flight, reaching every corner of the globe.

Qohor, Norvos, Braavos, Pentos, King's Landing—everyone was once again plunged into panic, especially those across the Narrow Sea.

Because they had initially watched with the mentality of spectators, wanting to see the clash between the empire and the White Walkers. They had hoped the empire's might would stop the White Walkers, ideally with both sides suffering heavy losses. The White Walkers would be repelled, humanity would regain the light, and the great empire would disintegrate amidst the disaster. Future generations would commemorate it with beautiful poetry.

However, no one had anticipated that, this time, the White Walkers would not directly confront the currently most powerful Valyrian Empire. Instead, they had chosen a flanking maneuver, with disaster suddenly descending upon their own heads.

Now, it was the turn of the peoples of Essos—various races and city-states—to unite and weather the calamity together.

Chapter 786: Seeking Help

In the Sealord's Palace of Braavos, the highest echelons of the entire "Bastard Daughter of Valyria" had gathered.

The keyholders of the Iron Bank, the patriarchs of ancient families, the High Priest of the Moonsingers, and the Chief Priest of the House of Black and White, who was also a Faceless Man, were all present.

He wore a hooded robe, half black and half white, with a golden mask on his cheeks through which maggots crawled in and out.

The House of Black and White had been destroyed by dragonfire many years ago, and now only a patch of dilapidated ruins remained on the original site.

The Braavosi saw this as a disgrace, just like the Titan statue whose head had been smashed into the sea. To this day, it remained a headless giant, holding up a broken sword pointing at the sky, as if uttering a silent roar, like the grudge the Braavosi held in their hearts.

However, the Titan's head was later salvaged and now rests on one side of the Isle of the Gods in the center of Braavos.

Although under the pressure of the Valyrian Empire, Braavos was still openly hunting down the Faceless Men.

And the House of Black and White had not been rebuilt like the Sealord's Palace, but the representative of the Faceless Men still appeared in the newly reconstructed Sealord's Palace.

This almost proved that the Faceless Men still had ties with the Braavosi officials, and the so-called arrest warrants were just a perfunctory measure to deal with the Empire's pressure.

However, with the immense crisis looming, the Sealord of Braavos could no longer care about these matters.

He had summoned everyone he could find to discuss the situation, hoping that they could brainstorm and find a way to break through this catastrophe.

When the White Walkers first invaded Westeros, Braavos was too busy gloating and taking the opportunity to profit from the war, never imagining that the disaster would one day befall them.

"Ib has been completely overrun."

"The White Walkers have taken over the island through unknown means."

"But I heard that someone saw a giant dragon appear in the skies above Ib."

A patriarch from an ancient family spoke up anxiously. His family originated from the Valyrian era and was one of the first families to build Braavos. However, after so many years and countless upheavals, the family now truly felt a strong sense of crisis.

Because although they had gloated back then, everyone had seen the enormous price King Robert had paid to win that war.

And although Braavos wanted to make a fortune from the war, it indirectly created the biggest bad debt since the birth of the Iron Bank.

They had lent King Robert millions of gold dragons, plus the subsequent interest-free loans, but now it had all gone down the drain, unrecoverable.

"A giant dragon?"

"Could it be that the Emperor across the Narrow Sea is involved in this matter?"

"Is this a scheme of the Valyrian Empire?"

At the mention of a giant dragon, some people in the room naturally thought of the former Young Dragon, now grown into a towering giant.

Viserys had once grown up under the support of Braavos, but in the end, it was Viserys who personally cut off the Titan's head and let it sink to the bottom of the sea.

Therefore, at the mention of Viserys' name, the expressions of everyone in the Sealord's Palace changed slightly.

Even the Faceless Man, who was the representative of the House of Black and White.

The Faceless Man in the black and white robe with the golden mask showed no change in expression, even if there was any. Beside him, another Faceless Man's face revealed some subtle changes.

He had fallen to this state, unable to show his true face or even call his own name, all because of Viserys.

That little prince whom he had personally helped into the carriage back then.

However, the long conference table was now full of people. Although Viserys was terrifying and the Braavosi all held grudges, it was indeed inappropriate to blame Viserys for this matter just because someone had witnessed a giant dragon.

"I've also heard about this. A giant dragon spitting icy blue flames appeared in the skies above the Port of Ib." "It was the main reason for the fall of Ib."

The speaker was a middle-aged man wearing a coarse gray robe, with a calm expression. He was one of the keyholders of the Iron Bank, also of noble blood and extraordinary origin. In fact, as a keyholder, he definitely belonged to one of the earliest established families in Braavos.

"But it's too rash to suspect Viserys just because a giant dragon appeared."

"Considering the White Walkers' ability to control corpses, I have reason to suspect that they are controlling the corpse of a giant dragon."

The keyholder of Braavos spoke.

"Controlling the corpse of a giant dragon?"

His words sounded much more plausible than the previous person's. They had gathered in the Sealord's Palace not to gang up and curse Viserys, but to solve the problem. If they wanted to curse him, they had already done so countless times behind his back.

However, many people agreed with his words, while some also raised objections.

"But there are only a few giant dragons left in the world. Where did the White Walkers get the corpse of a giant dragon?"

"Could it be that one of Viserys' dragons died?"

In the meeting at the Sealord's Palace of Braavos, some people were not present but had become the main characters.

"Everyone!"

The Sealord of Braavos felt a bit of a headache listening to the voices below, then he lightly tapped his fingernail and spoke.

"Let's not dwell on where this giant dragon corpse came from."

"Who cares where it came from?"

"The problem we need to discuss now is how to deal with this crisis and protect this great city-state from being destroyed in our hands."

The Sealord of Braavos spoke.

"Since it can now be confirmed that the White Walkers are indeed controlling a giant dragon, and the people killed by this dragon can directly turn into wights..."

"Does this mean that any impregnable defenses we prepare are useless?"

"The White Walkers only need to ride the dragon and fly behind our lines, set a fire, and this place will fall."

"How do we fight this?"

"Please share your thoughts, everyone."

The words of Tormo Fregar, the Sealord of Braavos, instantly silenced the room.

Because the problem he raised hit the nail on the head. Everyone had been thinking about where this dragon came from, but no one had thought about how to deal with it.

But now, when they calmed down, it was truly terrifying to think about it carefully.

How do they fight this?

"Perhaps... Perhaps we can seek help from His Majesty the Emperor."

At this moment, the person who had initially accused Viserys spoke up, holding back his anger. Everyone in the room turned their gazes toward him.

Chapter 787: The Council of Humanity

While it was easier said than done, during the civil war in Westeros, Braavos had sided with King Robert.

The Iron Bank provided Robert with a substantial low-interest or even interest-free loan. Their support for him was unquestionable, as the silver-haired boy had continuously thwarted Braavos on the continent of Essos.

However, many years had passed since then. The once-cautious boy who had walked on thin ice had grown into a young man who rode dragons, founded a great empire, and became the father of two children.

Yet, the former kindness between the two had long dissipated amidst the subsequent events, leaving only hatred behind.

The Braavosi sought help from Viserys?

Could it work?

Everyone turned their heads to look at Tormo Fregar, the current Sealord of Braavos, eager to see his facial expression.

Tormo Fregar also sensed the difficulty of the situation, recalling the words Viserys had once said to him at the foot of the Titan of Braavos.

At that time, the previous Sealord, Ferrego Antaryon, had committed war crimes. Tormo Fregar had just won the political struggle by relying on Viserys' burning of Braavos, becoming the next Sealord.

"We can't rely on ourselves alone," the Sealord said after a brief silence. "We need to contact others."

"Who?" someone asked.

"The other Free Cities," Tormo Fregar replied, and those present nodded slightly in agreement.

Viserys' base was in Andalos, and places like Andalos and Pentos were his foundation, along with the newly conquered Triarchy.

The empire would not easily give up these territories and watch the Free Cities fall one by one. Therefore, if the situation in Essos became severe, he would certainly come to the rescue.

However, if only Braavos sought help from King's Landing, their voice would be feeble. Once the leader of the Free Cities and the world's trade center, Braavos now felt insignificant in the face of the young, vast empire standing beside them, filled with expansionist desires.

Therefore, the Sealord of Braavos demanded that everyone join together, including Lorath, Qohor, Norvos, and others. The more people they brought, the stronger their bargaining power would be in the alliance.

Currently, the "Forest Walkers" of the Kingdom of Ifequevron were engaging the White Walkers. They were using their forest magic to temporarily halt the White Walkers' advance.

They had also sent out a call for help to the Free Cities. Ifequevron's envoys had already arrived in Braavos to seek aid, but Braavos had not yet responded to the wooden men's plea.

"Since that's the case, it's decided," the Sealord of Braavos concluded after careful consideration. "This is a crisis concerning the fate of all humanity. We must unite and convene a Council of Humanity to discuss countermeasures."

"Gather everyone! All the city leaders! We'll go to King's Landing together!"

Beyond the Wall was the vast Haunted Forest.

It was now covered with a layer of white snow, eerily silent with few bird calls. Dense trees stood tall, mostly pines that could withstand the harsh cold.

Westeros was now shrouded in darkness, with only a few stars faintly visible in the sky. Viserys rode his dragon over the Wall, heading north.

After leaving the Wall, Viserys felt a clear sense of unease, as if a pair of eyes had opened in the darkness, staring at him.

However, others did not have this feeling, such as Daenerys and Rhaenys when they patrolled. Yet, Viserys overcame this discomfort, knowing it wasn't someone watching him from the shadows, but rather the ancient powers of the Old Gods permeating the land, filled with the forces of death.

Viserys' sensitivity to divine powers far surpassed that of Rhaenys and Daenerys.

"The Old Gods and the Great Other both come from the darkness," Viserys suddenly recalled the words Brynden "Bloodraven" Rivers, the Three-Eyed Raven, had once told him. The silver-haired young man frowned slightly as he sat on the dragon's back, looking down with the howling wind in his ears.

"The White Walkers have not appeared here," he thought. "Where did they go?"

Daenerys and Rhaenys had never flown too far, while Viserys patrolled a much wider range. He gently pressed on the dragon's back, and Balerion let out a low roar as he descended from the sky, landing on a snow-capped mountain.

"This should be the Frostfangs," Viserys said as he jumped off the dragon's back and looked around.

The heart of the Old Gods had once rested on this mountain range. It was also the homeland of the Children of the Forest, like Leaf and Snowylocks. It guarded a bottomless pit, and legend had it that no Child of the Forest who entered it could come out alive.

Viserys remembered standing guard beside the heart of the Old Gods, with the Night King and his minions surrounding the mountain, seemingly determined not to leave until the Old Gods were destroyed. It was at that moment that the Three-Eyed Raven, Brynden Rivers, told him that the Old Gods and the Great Other shared the same origin and would eventually come for them no matter where they hid.

However, this world was evidently more mysterious than Viserys had realized. He had once thought that this world only had the main theme of ice and fire.

But he hadn't expected so many hidden elements beneath these themes, and the clash of ice and fire was merely a facade, or rather, just pawns manipulated by the gods.

He wanted to see what the bottomless pit, once suppressed by the heart of the Old Gods, looked like now.

But at that moment, a clear dragon roar sounded from the distant horizon.

Viserys looked up and saw a white-gold dragon flying over from the direction of the Wall, its silhouette visible in the faint starlight.

It turned out that Daenerys, seeing Viserys fly north for a long time without returning, had become worried and rode her dragon to find him.

"Dany?" Viserys raised an eyebrow as he watched the silver-haired girl descend from the dragon's back. "Why are you here?"

Daenerys jumped off the dragon's back, her small leather boots sinking into the thick snow. The bitter cold wind blew her silver-gold hair and fur cloak, and her hands were clad in thick deerskin gloves.

She walked through the snow with light steps, coming to Viserys' side and taking his hand. She looked around and asked, "I was a little worried. Where is this place?"

Chapter 788: Resolving the Heartache

"This is the Frostfang."

"We're approaching the territory of the Thenns."

The Thenns were a brutal tribe, said to eat human flesh raw. However, even the most savage of races could not withstand the onslaught of the White Walkers. They too fled south in disarray, ultimately perishing in the North.

Beyond the Wall, there was no longer any sign of human activity. It had become a paradise for animals. The terms "wildling" and "free folk" had vanished into the annals of history, becoming a thing of the past.

Most of those who were once considered wildlings had now suffered the same fate as the Thenns - their tribes wiped out. The few lucky ones who had survived the southern nobles' army's extermination and the cold winds of winter were no longer wildlings.

Having grown accustomed to the warm, pleasant climate of the south and the days of being able to eat their fill instead of feasting one day and starving for three, no one wanted to return to their homeland.

As a result, these free folk who once claimed they would never bend the knee had now knelt, obediently becoming citizens of the Empire, toiling diligently to secure their livelihoods.

Most of them lived in the Vale and the Westerlands, with a small portion residing in the Riverlands. This was because the Vale and the Westerlands were mountainous, and many wildlings who had escaped the Neck had taken refuge in the mountains, allowing them to survive the conquest war and live to see the era of the Valyrian Empire.

"Thenns?"

Naturally, Daenerys had never heard of these wildling tribes, as she had not participated in the previous war against the White Walkers or the subsequent civil war. At that time, she had been left all alone in Pentos.

"This tree is huge."

Subsequently, Daenerys saw the embodiment of the Old Gods. However, this colossal weirwood tree was now dead. Its branches and leaves had long since withered, losing their once-golden luster. The pale trunk had become decayed, seeming as though it would crumble with the wind.

This weirwood tree was the largest in the entire world. The face the Children of the Forest had carved into its trunk was also enormous. However, at this moment, it appeared as though the face on the tree trunk was shedding tears of blood, sending a chill down one's spine.

Daenerys even shivered slightly.

"What happened to it?"

Viserys, holding Daenerys' hand, stood before the embodiment of the Old Gods. He raised his head to look at the enormous weirwood tree, his voice slightly low as he spoke.

"It died."

Upon hearing this, Daenerys was somewhat curious. She had not expected Viserys to recognize a tree.

"You know it? Who is it?"

"It is the Old Gods of the North."

Daenerys asked, and Viserys replied in a calm voice.

"Old Gods?"

However, his answer stunned the silver-haired girl. She turned her head to look at Viserys in disbelief, never expecting to hear such a name from his mouth.

Yet, when she saw that the expression on Viserys' face did not seem to be joking, she covered her mouth.

"How is this possible? Can gods also die?"

"Do Leaf, Robb, and the other Northerners know that their god is dead?"

The fact that gods could also die, especially that they too had perished in the cold winds of winter like humans, deeply shook Daenerys.

She had only heard Viserys and others mention that war, but she had never imagined what kind of enemy they were facing. Even gods would die at their hands.

"Gods also have their hierarchy and the law of the jungle applies to them as well. Of course, weak deities can die, Daenerys."

"If you don't want to die, you can only become stronger, at any cost."

Viserys' voice did not carry much fluctuation.

"Leaf and Snowhair were brought here by me. She knows the Old Gods have died."

"But the Northerners don't know."

Outside, it was freezing cold, naturally not a place for conversation. Daenerys followed behind Viserys into the cave beneath the roots of the weirwood tree.

It was a hidden cave that one might easily miss if not paying attention. However, although the Old Gods had died and this place had been overrun by the White Walkers once before, it seemed that some of the Old Gods' barriers still remained.

Viserys led Daenerys inside. Instantly, they could feel the surrounding temperature rising, far less cold than the outside world.

If the outside was a harsh winter, then the world inside the cave was akin to a slightly chilly spring or autumn.

"The temperature here is different!"

"Is this the power of magic?"

Daenerys, holding Viserys' hand, entered the cave. Viserys picked up a broken branch from the ground, perhaps a root of the weirwood tree, and lit it as a torch to dispel the darkness and illuminate the world within the cave.

In fact, after Viserys and Daenerys had a private conversation some time ago, the knot in her heart had been untied.

Daenerys was naturally worried that Viserys would abandon her, not want her. Viserys was her one and only, her everything.

If Viserys really did that, it would trigger the flaw in her personality. She would certainly go mad.

However, the reality was that Viserys did not do so. He was indeed a little unsure of how to handle this relationship, just as Missandei had guessed.

Even though he had lived two lives, Viserys felt somewhat at a loss.

He had watched Daenerys grow up, even from the time she was a baby in swaddling clothes. He could deal with other women with ease and had no shortage of lovers, but Daenerys' pure physical relationship with them was different.

Therefore, one of his personal habits was that when he did not know how to make a decision, he would choose to put the matter aside for the time being and wait until he had figured it out later. However, he had not expected that this attitude of temporarily putting things off would anger little Dany.

Nevertheless, after a frank exchange between the two not long ago, the issue had been resolved.

Daenerys did not want to marry anyone other than Viserys. Firstly, it was because of the Targaryen family tradition. Daenerys had an even heavier mental burden than Viserys. Secondly, with Viserys as a precedent, she could no longer look up to any other man in this world.

Besides Viserys, who dared to marry Daenerys?

Even if Viserys wanted to marry Daenerys off, there would probably be no one who dared to take her as a wife, fearing that their head would be lost before the bride even entered the door.

Therefore, when the two had a frank conversation and Daenerys insisted that she only wanted to marry him, Viserys had agreed to take her as his empress in the future.

However, Daenerys was not like Alayaya and Rhaenys, or most women in this world.

Even before she had entered the door, she had already shown some early signs of a future queen's personality, with a strong sense of possessiveness.

She had even previously expressed dissatisfaction with her elder sisters Alayaya and Rhaenys, who had come earlier, and was furious about the fact that Viserys had several lovers.

In particular, she had once witnessed her best friend, the Little Rose Margaery Tyrell, in Viserys' bed.

Chapter 789: Entering the Cave

The final homeland of the Children of the Forest still maintained some of its former appearance, yet there were clear signs of numerous invaders having been here.

The Night King had once led the army of the dead to conquer this place, but for what purpose, no one knew.

"Viserys," Daenerys asked, tightly grasping her brother's hand, afraid to let go as broken skeletons littered the ground beneath their feet, making her somewhat timid. "If this colossal weirwood is the Old Gods, then how did they die?"

Viserys held a torch, illuminating the surrounding darkness. "It's obvious," he replied, his pale violet eyes reflecting the firelight as he surveyed the dilapidated surroundings, the gnarled weirwood roots, and the skeletons strewn about. "The White Walkers killed it."

The two continued descending, with all colors gradually fading away, leaving only black soil and white wood.

The cave beneath the heart of the Old Gods was like a hidden paradise, with countless intersecting paths, forks, and stone chambers—a fitting final home for the Children of the Forest. Most of these chambers housed skeletal remains, not left by invaders, as Viserys had seen during his first visit. There was even an underground river and a narrow stone bridge in this subterranean world.

Viserys led Daenerys across the stone bridge, where the stone chambers displayed skeletons impaled by weirwood. As they passed, the skeletons simultaneously opened their eyes, making clicking sounds as if trying to speak but unable to utter a word.

Daenerys was startled once more. This place was like the seventh level of hell, filled with corpses and eerie phenomena, especially knowing that the Old Gods' corpse stood above their heads, making the atmosphere even more unsettling.

"Viserys, slow down," she pleaded, not daring to walk behind him and instead nestling into his embrace.

Daenerys wasn't the only one sensing this unease. It was Viserys' second time here, but with the world's first weirwood having died here years ago, he too felt the ominous atmosphere permeating this underground realm.

However, Viserys' purpose was to see the bottomless pit. Leaf had once warned him that no one who entered this cave could come out alive, hinting that it might lead to the underworld or that some monster lurked below, waiting for prey to come knocking.

Compared to Leaf's theatrical and mysterious monster tales, Viserys was more inclined to believe that this place led to the underworld, as he had once seen an obsidian spearhead here and glimpsed a vision of the Children of the Forest battling fire-breathing worms countless years ago.

Viserys also harbored a suspicion that the Night King's relentless search for the Old Gods' whereabouts might have been to find this cave leading to the underworld.

"Is that so?" he wondered.

However, when they finally reached the deepest part of the cave, standing before the bottomless pit, Viserys' torch had burned down to its last embers.

The pit before them wasn't particularly large, barely enough for one person to pass through. The depths of the cave were shrouded in darkness, blacker than pitch, thicker than tar, darker than a raven's feathers. Light was an unwelcome intruder, fleeting and ephemeral.

Viserys tossed the last remnants of his torch into the pit, but the depths seemed to be veiled in a thin mist, dimming the light considerably.

The torch's final glow burned out in the cave, quickly plunging the surroundings into complete darkness. Viserys placed his hand on the rock at the pit's edge, his pale violet eyes gleaming faintly.

"Viserys?" Daenerys, huddled beside him, naturally noticed his unusual behavior. In the pitch-black darkness, she could only find solace by his side, feeling as if even her connection to Viserion outside had been severed.

But Viserys didn't respond to the girl's voice, for his eyes now beheld a different scene.

He invoked the Old Gods' power, using the rock above the cave as an anchor to retrace the past, back to the moment before the Old Gods' death.

Viserys now stood at the cave's entrance, with Daenerys no longer by his side, as they existed in different times. The sounds of wights rampaging filled the air, but none dared approach this place, seemingly avoiding something.

Suddenly, the outside fell silent.

Viserys stood alone at the edge of the bottomless pit, his eyes stirring slightly as he raised his head to gaze into the distant darkness.

Though deep underground without light, both had exceptional eyesight.

The Night King, wearing a broken crown of pale ice, stood not far away, quietly watching Viserys, who returned his gaze—a stare that transcended time and space.

The Night King discovered the future Viserys standing there but, after a long silence, decided to ignore him.

He couldn't stop Viserys from observing, just as he knew Viserys couldn't cross time to stop him.

The Night King took half a step back, turning to look behind him. A white-haired White Walker voluntarily stepped forward, unable to see Viserys and unaware of why the Night King had remained silent for so long. Without hesitation, it entered the bottomless pit.

"As I thought," Viserys mused, watching the White Walker descend into the pit, a restless urge stirring within him to follow.

After all, he was merely a spiritual body, and this was a past event.

However, Viserys ultimately restrained his impulsive desire, choosing to endure. When he turned back, he discovered that the Night King and the White Walker had already vanished.

"Not waiting for it to come out?" Viserys was slightly startled, then fell into contemplation.

After an unknown amount of time, Viserys finally came back to his senses in the darkness.

He sat on the ground at the cave's edge, leaning against a nearby wall. The cave's temperature was quite warm, and Daenerys still waited by his side, having fallen asleep while holding him at some point.

Chapter 790: Confession

"Dany?"

Viserys was slightly stunned when he woke up and saw Daenerys sleeping while hugging him, then couldn't help but chuckle.

He didn't know how long he had been lost in thought, but it was clear that Daenerys had fallen asleep.

Looking at the silver-haired girl who had fallen into a deep slumber in his arms, Viserys didn't disturb her. Instead, he leaned against the rock wall behind him and also closed his eyes slightly.

One White Walker had entered the bottomless pit that was said to lead to the center of the earth, while the Night King and the other White Walkers did not wait here but left directly.

However, Viserys had been waiting here all along, which might be why he had been lost in thought for quite some time, causing Daenerys to fall asleep.

Yet, his patience paid off. In the end, after waiting for several years, Viserys finally saw the White Walker come out of the bottomless pit again.

This White Walker, with white hair and beard, brought out a black stone the size of a human head from the bottomless pit. The stone seemed to absorb all light, the most extreme and pure darkness. Just by looking at it once, Viserys felt his spirit body slightly fluctuate.

"Can't look directly at it!"

He woke up with a start, while the White Walker was very smart not to look at the stone. Viserys followed behind it, watching as it carried the black stone and slowly moved northward.

During this time, Viserys unexpectedly encountered the lost Benjen, which was beyond his expectations.

He had seen the First Ranger of the Night's Watch before. At that time, he had escaped to Dragonstone with a few Night's Watch soldiers who had luckily escaped from the Winterfell cellar and Tyrion, who had survived the explosion at the Neck. Later, they met Viserys and relayed the invitation from the Three-Eyed Raven, Brynden Rivers.

It was precisely because of this that Viserys went to the North and happened to see the Three-Eyed Raven for the last time. However, since the Three-Eyed Raven possessed a certain ability of prophecy, it was unknown whether this was within his calculations.

The Three-Eyed Raven wanted to seize Viserys' body, but he failed in the mental battle. In the end, Viserys devoured the power of the Old Gods, greatly increasing his strength.

When Viserys unexpectedly encountered the lost Benjen beyond the Wall, he could tell that Benjen was already dead and was now a wight.

However, Benjen's actions surprised him. According to Viserys' observations, Benjen seemed to have retained his own consciousness. He actively followed behind the White Walker carrying the black stone, moving northward.

Thus, in the group of two, with one in front and one behind, but actually with Viserys whom they couldn't see, the three of them proceeded northward together.

Then came the sacrifice ceremony that Benjen later witnessed. The White Walker placed the human-head-sized black stone on the altar and then ignited blue flames. Benjen became dazed.

At that time, Viserys was focused on watching this ceremony.

He sensed a dangerous aura from it and instantly became highly alert. He vaguely felt that there was a greater crisis hidden behind the black stone and the blue flames.

Viserys couldn't even wait until the end of the sacrifice ceremony and hastily 'fled', returning to the real world, narrowly escaping a disaster.

When he woke up, Daenerys was already asleep, hugging him. It seemed that it was already late outside.

Since the Long Night descended, the entire world's day and night had disappeared, and people's grasp of time had also changed.

Viserys held his sister, eyes slightly closed, feeling the warmth emanating from the girl's young and vibrant body, while his mind was wandering, thinking about what he had just seen.

If Viserys wasn't a fool, he would know that the black stone was definitely something very important.

"What is it?"

However, at this moment, Viserys suddenly felt the girl's body in his arms wriggle slightly, as if changing position, and then continue to hug his body, sound asleep.

The silver-haired young man slightly opened his eyes and looked down at Daenerys. Although the entire cave was dark now, his eyes could still see in such a lightless situation.

His sister was indeed really cute.

Daenerys pouted her lips when she slept, and her long eyelashes trembled slightly. Viserys, feeling the warmth in his arms, couldn't help but feel a strange emotion rising in his heart.

But thinking of what Daenerys looked like when she was just born, that baby girl in swaddling clothes whom he had picked up with trembling hands, this emotion disappeared without a trace.

Then, after an unknown amount of time had passed, Viserys closed his eyes, holding Daenerys, and also couldn't help but fall into a light sleep.

The girl in his arms moved slightly again, as if stretching, and after sleeping for several hours, Daenerys finally woke up.

But in the darkness, she couldn't see Viserys' face clearly, only certain that this warm embrace belonged to Viserys. She guessed that Viserys was also asleep now, so she didn't want to disturb him. She just quietly raised her soft lips and gently kissed his cheek.

Then she saw that pair of pale purple eyes that seemed to hold light, quietly watching her in the darkness.

"You're awake?"

Daenerys was startled, but then hugged Viserys even tighter in the darkness.

"Mm."

Viserys nodded slightly. Actually, with Daenerys by his side, how could he possibly sleep?

Then Viserys looked around and spoke.

"Since you're awake, let's go."

Balerion and Viserion, the two dragons, were still waiting outside. They had been waiting for most of the day.

Moreover, they had been away from Castle Black for so long. Although Viserys and Daenerys had dragons by their side, so they were not in any danger, people couldn't help but worry.

"I don't want to go."

However, Viserys' words received a different answer from Daenerys' mouth.

"Viserys, how nice would it be if we could stay here forever."

"I don't want a vast empire. I don't want to be a princess, let alone a queen, and even less a future empress."

In fact, Daenerys preferred an ordinary life. Of course, it wasn't out of the question that she had been a princess for so long that she had grown a bit tired of it. If she suddenly became a commoner, she might still feel uncomfortable.

Daenerys now called Viserys directly by his name, following Rhaenys' example. It was unknown why she suddenly changed to calling him brother at this moment.

"I want to give you a child."

Daenerys suddenly spoke seriously.

Then, in the darkness, the silver-gold-haired girl directly turned over and sat on Viserys' body, then lowered her head and kissed him. This time, she kissed Viserys' lips and even stuck out her tongue.

Chapter 791: Magical Potions

Meanwhile, in the imperial capital of King's Landing...

Inside a mysterious laboratory within the Imperial Academy of Medicine, a merman monster covered in scales and smooth skin lay on the operating table, emitting a spine-chilling growl from his mouth.

His crimson eyes fixed upon the face of a six or seven-year-old 'boy' standing nearby. The child's complexion instantly turned deathly pale, his hands trembling slightly as he held the surgical tray. However, he controlled his fear remarkably well, ultimately managing to suppress the terror within.

"Hemostatic forceps," a calm, aged voice emanated from above the boy's head. Though the child couldn't hear clearly, he understood the old man's gesture. With a shudder, he quickly responded by handing over a small clamp from the tray.

The speaker was none other than Qyburn, a man once expelled from the Citadel for conducting human experiments, who later joined the Brave Companions. When the sellsword company was annihilated by Viserys, Qyburn gained the king's recognition and was granted his own laboratory in King's Landing.

The 'boy' at his side was actually a girl, an orphan Qyburn had adopted. She wore boy's clothing and sported short hair, making her gender indiscernible. Since being taken in by Qyburn, she had followed her 'grandfather' everywhere, learning the dark arts of medicine.

After some time, the monster's wounds were finally dressed, and it sat up on the operating table, its crimson eyes still fixed intently on the girl.

"Lord Victarion," Qyburn spoke in a raspy voice, positioning himself between the merman and his foster daughter. "Please don't frighten little May."

Mesaliah, or May for short, was the girl's name. Qyburn had once mentioned that although her name was inauspicious, it had a pleasant ring to it. Thus, he hadn't changed it after adopting her.

Only then did the merman monster avert his gaze, glaring at Qyburn with extreme disgust before snorting coldly. Anyone subjected to regular blood extractions would feel irritated. If not for the emperor's orders, Victarion would have snapped the old man's neck long ago.

However, he dared not do so. Ever since Viserys restored his sanity, Victarion had sensed that he was somehow under the king's control. Even if he fled into the depths of the sea, Viserys would likely find him.

Victarion then left Qyburn's laboratory, not daring to walk openly through the districts of King's Landing. Instead, he swam through the city's sewage system, reaching the open sea. Victarion had grown increasingly fond of life in the ocean, despising his time on land.

After Victarion's departure, the kind-hearted, deaf-mute girl breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to her grandfather with a grateful look, but Qyburn wasn't looking at her, instead focusing intently on the results of the experiment.

"Ghost Dance Grass," Qyburn muttered, referring to a potent poison. He had ground the toxic grass into a powder, extracting a mixture of leaves and granules, which he then added to the blood drawn from Victarion.

The merman's blood indeed possessed immense power, a fact Qyburn had confirmed. Victarion had been infected with this curse after being attacked by a monster. Qyburn could see that the blood contained magical energy.

However, when this magically-infused blood was introduced into a human body, most individuals with weak willpower or frail physiques would instantly convulse and die.

Qyburn concluded that the magical power within the blood was too strong for ordinary people to withstand. Thus, he began extensive experiments, hoping to find something in nature that could be combined with the blood to slightly suppress its magical potency.

Yet, when the Ghost Dance Grass powder was added to Victarion's blood, there was no reaction. Qyburn's keen eyes flickered with a glimmer of light.

Fortunately, he had another sample to test.

"Manticore venom," Qyburn said, referring to an extremely rare and valuable poison from the East, allegedly derived from the venom of a monster called the manticore, native to the Grey Waste. Each drop was worth hundreds of gold dragons.

If not for the imperial treasury's funding, Qyburn could never afford such a precious toxin.

However, when Qyburn added a drop of manticore venom to another sample of the merman's blood, the liquid in the test tube underwent a dramatic change, bubbling as if it were boiling.

"Hmm?" Qyburn's eyes narrowed. This was the first time since the start of his experiments that something had caused a reaction in the merman's blood.

"The eastern manticore?" he mused. "Could it be that merfolk also originate from the East?"

Qyburn's mind raced, even daring to consider this possibility. Beside him, the deaf-mute girl, Mesaliah, couldn't help but approach, gazing at the violently reacting test tube with curiosity in her eyes.

"Little May," Qyburn gestured. Mesaliah's face revealed a look of reluctance, but she bowed slightly in deference before turning to leave.

Qyburn then took the two vials of blood and hurried towards the dungeon beneath the laboratory.

Qyburn's Menagerie.

This place was the ultimate nightmare for all criminals in King's Landing. Rumors about this dark dungeon had gradually spread among the prisoners. They knew that if a group of masked men in black ever took them for interrogation, there was almost no chance of returning alive.

Currently, two fresh bodies, recently delivered by the Ministry of Internal Affairs, were strapped to beds in the underground cells. Two black-clad guards stood watch outside the door.

"Maester Qyburn," they greeted him. Although Qyburn no longer held the title of maester, he didn't care, and the ministry's men still addressed him as such.

"Who are these two?" Qyburn asked, glancing at the two prisoners inside. One was strong and robust, while the other was relatively frail.

"A robber and murderer," the masked agent replied, then turned to look at the scrawny criminal. "The other one... a rapist."

Qyburn's expression showed a flicker of understanding. Although he didn't care whom he killed, ending the lives of those who deserved to die still allowed him to maintain a clear conscience.

Mesaliah then opened the cell door, and Qyburn entered with the two vials of blood. He looked at the two men lying on the beds, tightly bound and gagged, their eyes filled with terror.

After a moment of contemplation, Qyburn injected the blood mixed with Ghost Dance Grass into the muscular man, while the blood combined with manticore venom was administered to the rapist. He then turned and left the cell, locking the door behind him, quietly observing the changes in the two men.

Chapter 792: Man-Made Monster

Soon, terrifying sounds emanated from the dimly lit cage, the shadows on the walls writhing violently.

Qyburn's eyes narrowed slightly, while on the other side, the young girl Melisandre closed her eyes in fear, her hands tightly gripping the hem of her dress.

After an unknown amount of time, the cage finally fell silent.

Qyburn observed the scene before him with a hint of solemnity. He turned his head to glance at his adopted daughter. Melisandre still kept her eyes tightly shut, not daring to look. Qyburn patted her shoulder, turning her around, and then pointed towards the door, signaling for her to leave first.

Even for the ruthless Qyburn, he felt that such a sight was unsuitable for a girl to witness. Perhaps every man's heart softens after having a daughter.

Melisandre followed her grandfather's instructions, giving a slight bow before turning to leave the room.

However, before departing, she couldn't resist sneaking a peek. The mute girl's heart suddenly leaped, and she quickly closed the door, hiding outside.

Now, Qyburn stood before the cage, torches burning quietly in the room, with a ventilation shaft overhead. The scene before Qyburn's eyes was extremely horrifying, the cage littered with severed limbs.

The burly prisoner had been torn to shreds by another person, who now knelt on the ground, gnawing on the corpse.

Scales had begun to grow on his body, his eyes turning crimson. With his back to Qyburn, it was evident that he had lost his sanity.

Not everyone possessed the strong willpower of Victarion and Gerion Lannister. Victarion was the commander of the Iron Fleet, while Gerion dared to lead a fleet deep into the ruins of Valyria for exploration, clearly no simple figure either.

"Success."

"Although not perfect."

Qyburn observed the cruel scene before him, his eyes showing no trace of sympathy, instead filled with appreciation. However, based on the blood within Victarion's body, the monster created had its magical nature partially suppressed by the venom of the manticore. It was clear that the creature did not possess Victarion's muscular physique, but the difference was not significant.

"Truly an era of magical revival."

His Majesty had tasked him with uncovering the secret within Victarion, which he had failed to do. However, he had successfully created a monster akin to Victarion.

If such monsters could be artificially controlled, they would become a terrifyingly formidable force.

His Majesty the Emperor and Princess Daenerys had flown north on their dragons, not returning for a day. The garrison at Castle Black was abuzz with speculation, but fortunately, Queen Rhaenys and her dragon remained at the Wall, stabilizing morale.

Dragons were now the heart and soul of the army. Everyone knew that to win the war between humans and the White Walkers, dragons were the decisive force.

Finally, news from King's Landing arrived, this time from Varys, the Master of Whispers. Due to the limitations of information transmission in this era, sometimes messages would take a long time to go back and forth.

"So the White Walkers appeared on Ib."

Viserys pondered as he looked at the intelligence in his hand.

The stories of the Long Night often accompanied the appearance of the White Walkers. However, unexpectedly, they had not emerged beyond the Wall but instead landed on the island of Ib.

How had the White Walkers, lacking ships, swum across?

Could it be that the White Walkers now commanded the dead to build ships? If that were true, it would indeed be troubling news. If these undead possessed such capability, it would mean that the gap in civilization between them and humans would be significantly narrowed.

However, it was noteworthy that the report also mentioned a dragon, which was equally disconcerting. Yet, Viserys did not associate the Night King's mount with an ice dragon.

"If the White Walkers have appeared on Ib, does that mean they won't attack the Wall?"

For the people of Westeros, Ib was extremely remote, akin to reaching the ends of the earth. This island nation was located not far from the Shivering Sea and the legendary Bones.

If the White Walkers wanted to march on Westeros from there, it would take at least a year or two, even if they only walked.

Moreover, as the Free Cities had refused the petition of the Seven Kingdoms' nobles back then, there was still a vast Narrow Sea separating them.

What was there to fear?

With this change in location, the Empire's commanders who heard the news all breathed a sigh of relief. At least the pressure had lessened.

"We mustn't let our guard down."

"The enemy is very cunning."

"The Wall is our best barrier. If we want to protect the Empire's people from the White Walkers' attacks, we must stop them beyond the Wall."

On the other hand, Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, spoke with a solemn expression.

His words made sense. The Wall was the best barrier for humans to stop the White Walkers. If the Wall were breached, there would be no more fortifications like it to defend the rear.

The previous victory against the White Walkers at the Battle of the Green Fork had been pure luck.

At that time, the undead army that had broken through the Iron Islands suddenly appeared at the rear of the allied forces. Tywin Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock, who guarded the rear, abruptly withdrew his troops. This directly led to the main allied forces being caught in a pincer attack, with the entire battle rapidly descending into a desperate situation, even showing signs of total annihilation.

However, His Majesty rode his dragon and flew to the rear of the undead army. No one knew exactly what happened, but the White Walkers retreated afterward, directly saving the lives of hundreds of thousands of allied soldiers and numerous Seven Kingdoms nobles participating in the battle.

As Jeor Mormont said these words, he couldn't help but glance at Viserys, who sat in the center with a calm expression. He wanted to see if Viserys' face showed confidence or trepidation.

However, Jeor Mormont miscalculated. He couldn't discern any expression on Viserys' face, but this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. His heart, initially apprehensive, finally calmed down.

"To end the Long Night, defeating the White Walkers is the key."

"But the Wall must not fall."

Viserys spoke after a brief silence.

This was also where he hesitated. Theoretically, he had to fly to the island of Ib to aid in the battle. However, he was worried that the White Walkers would lure the tiger away from the mountain and seize the opportunity to breach the Wall while he was away.

He was uneasy about leaving Rhaenys and Daenerys to face the Night King because he had previously clashed with this opponent. He knew the Night King's cunning, and according to legend, he even had a dragon now.

Just as everyone was discussing, a message suddenly arrived from outside.

Moqorro, the red priest who had previously come to King's Landing as an envoy and later headed north alone, had returned from beyond the Wall.

He claimed to have urgent matters that required an audience with His Majesty the Emperor.

Chapter 793: Method to Repair the Wall

"Your Majesty, the most exalted Emperor of the glorious Valyrian Empire," a red-robed giant, standing seven feet tall with skin as black as tar, his face adorned with white hair and winding flame-like tattoos covering his cheeks and forehead, entered the conference room and spoke with a slight bow.

"I have found a way to repair the Wall at the edge of the world."

Moqorro's opening words stunned the entire room. Everyone present, including Viserys, was momentarily taken aback.

"Hey, you Red Priest, what did you say?" Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold and the Grand Steward of the North, also known as the 'Sun of Winter,' boomed from the other side of the room.

Due to the sudden onset of the Long Night, Robb Stark, who was originally scheduled to return to Winterfell to assume the role of Governor of the North, was temporarily stranded in King's Landing. Although Robb was eager to return to the North and make his mark, his mother, Lady Catelyn, shared the same sentiment, leaving Robb with no choice but to comply.

As a result, Rickard Karstark remained the Grand Steward of the North.

His face was filled with disbelief, for the Wall stood seven hundred feet tall, over two hundred meters high, far beyond the reach of current architectural capabilities.

The people of the North regarded the Wall as a miracle, and Brandon the Builder was hailed as a godly man. He lived during the Age of Heroes, and House Stark gained great honor through Brandon's deeds, earning them the title of Kings of the North.

"Yes," Moqorro replied, standing tall in the conference room, facing the gazes of numerous imperial commanders. His eyes swept over the people in the room.

Eddard Stark, Rickard Karstark, Jeor Mormont, Prince Oberyn, commander of the Second Imperial Legion, Hendry Bracken, representative of the Riverlands, the sole heir to the Twins, Harry Strickland, former paymaster of the Golden Company and now Lord of Bitterbridge.

The Stormlands had sent a female commander, Lady Brienne of Tarth. Her stature was no shorter than the men in the room, perhaps even taller. She furrowed her brows, her blue eyes scrutinizing Moqorro.

In fact, Moqorro had already gained some understanding of these imperial military leaders. None of them could be underestimated.

However, his gaze still locked onto the silver-haired young man in the center. He wore a light robe and a crown of Valyrian steel adorned with a glittering red gem.

Viserys' fingers bore a ring with the Targaryen family crest, stained with traces of ink. At this moment, his fingers tapped the table lightly. After a long moment, he spoke.

"How to repair it?"

He didn't ask Moqorro where he had found the method, knowing that even if he did, the other party might not tell the truth. Volantis was the 'eldest daughter of Valyria,' and it held many secrets.

When Moqorro first came to King's Landing, Melisandre had warned Viserys not to trust his words easily.

These fanatical followers of the Lord of Light were different from her. They were more extreme and unscrupulous, as evident from their later seizure of control over Qohor.

Moqorro probably didn't expect Viserys not to ask where he had found these methods. This caused the words he had prepared to be swallowed back, and his tone faltered slightly.

"Black stone."

"Magic."

"Dragonfire."

The giant with flame tattoos covering his bald head then spoke in a deep voice, uttering three words.

The combination of black stone, magic, and dragonfire could rebuild the black stone structures of the glorious Valyrian civilization.

These structures contained the power of magic and dragonfire, sufficient to prevent some terrifying things from passing through the Wall.

The Valyrians possessed the knowledge to construct these black stone structures, but the history of the Wall clearly predated the rise of the Valyrians. Brandon Stark, the Builder, also did not have dragons, yet he had black stone.

It was a mysterious black stone that appeared in various corners of the known world, wherever ancient wonders existed. In that era, ancient people from all over the world inexplicably chose this black stone. Perhaps it held the secrets of the age.

Before the Wall collapsed, no one knew its internal structure. Now, through the broken and collapsed sections of the Wall, traces of black stone remnants could still be vaguely found. Brandon the Builder used black stone as the foundation and employed magic and ancient spells to make the Wall stand firm.

Strictly speaking, the method provided by Moqorro was not a way to rebuild the Wall, but rather to use Valyrian techniques to fill the gap in the Wall.

But as long as it worked, that was enough.

He had originally wanted to use the excuse that he had found this method beyond the Wall, but since Viserys didn't ask, he naturally didn't mention it.

Because the secrets of black stone construction and the forging of Valyrian steel had been lost with the destruction of the Freehold, but in fact, the city-state of Volantis still retained copies.

After all, Volantis was the earliest colony of the Freehold at that time, and many Valyrian nobles even resided there.

Therefore, after the Doom, the great empire collapsed overnight, and the methods of forging Valyrian steel and building black stone structures were lost to the world, with only Volantis possessing copies.

However, perhaps due to insufficient technical conditions or insurmountable obstacles, Volantis, despite secretly possessing these secrets and claiming to be the heir of Valyria, never made them public and never utilized them, only storing them in the depths of their warehouses.

In recent years, there had been occasional explorers claiming to have found the method to forge Valyrian steel, but they were all fake. The craftsmen of Qohor also claimed to have mastered the technique of reforging Valyrian steel, but because Valyrian steel had become extremely rare, few people sought to reforge it, making it impossible to verify.

However, now that Qohor had also fallen into the hands of the Red Priests of Volantis, the technique of reforging Valyrian steel might have also fallen into their hands.

Therefore, the method Moqorro claimed to have found to repair the Wall was actually given to him by the High Priest Benerro.

As for what purpose the High Priest wanted to achieve, that was not something a Red Priest like Moqorro could know.

"Black stone, magic, dragonfire."

The conference room fell silent. The numerous imperial commanders couldn't understand or comprehend, for these were the secrets of the Valyrians.

But they all saw the pensive expression on Viserys' face, the only Valyrian present.

"You offer it, what reward do you seek?"

Chapter 794: Group Arrival

"I desire nothing more than the light of the true god to return to this earth, Your Majesty," Moqorro responded, his heart pounding intensely upon hearing Viserys' words.

He knew that if he had requested some not-too-outrageous conditions just now, they would likely have been granted. However, Moqorro's thoughts only wavered for a moment before steadying once more.

"By the way," he added, "I have prepared a gift for you as well."

Moqorro then summoned those outside to enter. His accompanying Fiery Hand members carried a black, massive horn, its curved lines stretching a full eight feet long. The wide opening could easily accommodate a person's entire forearm, and ancient symbols were inlaid on the horn with gold, though they had faded to a brownish hue due to age.

"This is the Horn of Winter," Moqorro explained. "Legend has it that Joramun, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, blew the Horn of Winter, awakening the giants beneath the earth and ending the Night King's reign."

Back when Mance Rayder had blown the Horn of Winter, it had brought down the Wall. Since then, this divine artifact had vanished without a trace, its whereabouts unknown.

Viserys had also attempted to track down the Horn of Winter, but he only knew that it had been transported overseas by someone, without any clear idea of who was responsible. Thus, he had no choice but to let the matter rest.

However, to his surprise, the Horn of Winter had been in the possession of the Red Faith all along.

Moqorro not only provided the method for constructing black stone buildings but also presented the divine artifact capable of bringing down the Wall—the Horn of Winter. He then departed from the Wall once more, his destination unknown.

Upon examining the method provided by Moqorro, Viserys immediately understood.

The Valyrian method of constructing black stone buildings was indeed not something others could learn, as the primary condition could not be met. Thus, it had naturally vanished in the long river of history.

"Firstly, the dragonflame of an adult dragon is needed to melt the unyielding stone," Viserys mused.

"Then, the unique magic of the Valyrian nobility must be employed."

Viserys knew that this magic, unique to the Valyrian nobility, was the black mist within his body. All Valyrian dragonlords seemed to possess an innate mastery of this magic. However, after the Doom, this magic had been lost.

When Viserys had entered the city of Valyria, he had once encountered a dragon king who had lost control of his magical transformation.

The dragon king had served as a warning, making Viserys even consider abandoning the black mist magic at one point.

However, according to the intelligence he had gradually gathered, the black mist magic mastered by the Valyrian nobility was suspected to be connected to the underworld. Even dragons might be closely related to the fire-breathing worms beneath the Fourteen Flames of Valyria. They had come from the underworld together, which was why dragons were so close to the dragonlord families.

The collapse of the Fourteen Flames of Valyria and the arrival of the Doom were also suspected to be related to the underworld.

The mysterious underworld, the accompanying black mist, the sudden rise of the Valyrians from an ordinary nomadic people, and their instant demise all seemed like a riddle.

However, with the increasing evidence Viserys had found to support his theories, these riddles were gradually approaching a resolution.

Time passed in the blink of an eye, and the long night continued to envelop the land. Compared to the chaos and wars erupting in other parts of the world, the central part of Essos had now turned into a living hell. In contrast, Westeros, the heartland and capital of the rebuilt Valyrian Empire, remained peaceful and harmonious, without much turmoil.

This was because His Majesty the Emperor was wise and mighty, and the imperial leadership had made ample preparations for the disaster. After the calamity struck, they had swiftly implemented measures to stabilize the people's hearts.

At the sealed Blackwater Bay port in King's Landing, Willas Tyrell, acting as the Master of Coin, leaned on a crutch, gazing at the distant, pitch-black sea. Beside him stood a short figure—none other than Tyrion Lannister.

"So, if we unite, we will overcome this disaster?" Tyrion asked, standing beneath the blazing torches.

This was the only source of light in the entire port. Ever since the long night had descended, not only did food need to be rationed, but torches had to be conserved as well.

The rations distributed by the imperial government were barely sufficient to stave off starvation, let alone provide a full and satisfying meal.

Although the granaries in the Riverlands could achieve four harvests a year, with the granaries overflowing even during the perennial summers, now that the long night had fallen, no one would complain about having too much food. No one knew how long the long night would last.

If, as recorded in the ancient books, the long night were to persist for a generation, not only commoners but even the nobles in the castles would starve to death by then.

"Hard to say, Lord Tyrion," Willas sighed, leaning on his crutch. "We are the first people in eight thousand years to witness the arrival of the long night. We don't know how things will unfold in the future."

"The records in the ancient texts may not be accurate either."

Willas had grown up in Oldtown and naturally knew that many parts of the history recorded by the First Men were unreliable. The First Men lacked a written language and only used symbols, which later generations could not understand and had to guess and record based on their interpretations.

"Fortunately, this time, the disaster has not descended upon Westeros," Willas added.

"Indeed, we're lucky that these monsters haven't come to trouble us again this time," Tyrion remarked, shrugging his small shoulders. His diminutive figure cast a long shadow in the torchlight.

"But I heard they have appeared on the other side of the world."

"That's why these people have all come to King's Landing seeking aid," Tyrion said.

"Do you think we should accede to their requests?"

Willas' face displayed a pensive expression.

In fact, it was not a simple question. Many years ago, when Westeros faced the attack of the White Walkers, the magisters, wealthy merchants, and others from the Free Cities had not offered much assistance to the Seven Kingdoms, mostly remaining as bystanders.

Now that they themselves were facing a crisis, they had thought of banding together and running to King's Landing to beg for help, even with a hint of ganging up to pressure the crown.

From an emotional perspective, Willas had no desire to agree. He disliked the opportunistic merchants who only cared about profits, just as Tywin had once said that wars should be fought with hard steel, not soft gold.

The traditional nobles of Westeros did not hold the overseas merchants in high regard, as they lacked honor and restraint, acting with wanton abandon. Moreover, the noble titles in Westeros signified the prosperity of families spanning hundreds and thousands of years, something that temporary wealth could not compare to. The heritage between the two was different.

However, if one were to approach the matter rationally, considering the safety of all humanity, eliminating the White Walkers as soon as possible might be the only way to end the eternal night.

But before Willas could voice his answer, faint lights gradually appeared on the distant sea.

"They're here," Tyrion announced, and Willas' expression instantly turned solemn as he raised his head.

Chapter 795: The Central Region Falls

In the distance, several warships sailed towards the port of Blackwater Bay.

After the Long Night's arrival, the sea was equally dim and lightless, making navigation a task that required extra caution, especially when crossing the Narrow Sea between the two continents.

However, despite the perilous journey, the princes, magisters, and governors of the Free Cities, along with the Sealord of Braavos, envoys from the Kingdom of Ifequevron, and even representatives from Mago Khal, who had unified the Dothraki Sea, embarked on the voyage without hesitation, traveling thousands of miles to King's Landing to seek aid from the Empire.

For the Valyrian Empire was one of the world's two vast empires of mankind, its power as strong as the midday sun.

The Golden Empire of Yi Ti in the east was currently mired in its own troubles, unable to extend its reach. Moreover, the vast Bone Mountains served as a natural barrier separating the eastern and western parts of Essos. Crossing them was difficult even during the day, let alone now that the Long Night had descended.

Thus, the Golden Empire was powerless to save the world, and these small nations, city-states, and tribes could only turn their eyes to the vast empire in the west.

The Valyrian Empire now ruled over millions of subjects, its territory spanning two continents on both sides of the Narrow Sea, from the Sunset Sea to the Narrow Sea and even the Summer Sea. It was said that the distant Summer Isles had already been conquered by the imperial fleet.

Therefore, these people pinned their hopes on the west, praying that the dragon-riding Emperor of the Empire in King's Landing could step forward and turn the tide.

As the fleets from the east docked at the port, dignitaries from all over the world disembarked one after another.

Willas Tyrell and Tyrion Lannister, representing the Empire's upper echelons, stepped forward to greet them.

"Sealord," Willas addressed the first to disembark, Tormo Fregar, the Sealord of Braavos. He arrived on a ship of the Braavosi invincible fleet, its hull painted purple and flying the banner of the Titan, symbolizing the most unique and powerful of the Free Cities.

The Sealord of Braavos was accompanied by a sizable entourage, including his First Sword, the High Priest of the Moonsingers, and a representative of the Faceless Men wearing a golden mask. A black-haired, hook-nosed attendant followed at his side.

Willas Tyrell, a man of vast knowledge, had once served as the Empire's tax collector and later as the Magistrate of Gulltown, where he proved his mettle. Naturally, he recognized the symbols of Braavos and could easily identify the Sealord among the crowd.

He approached the Sealord, leaning on his cane, and engaged in conversation, with Tyrion at his side. However, Tyrion seemed distracted, his eyes scanning the Braavosi delegation, searching for something. Unfortunately, he was disappointed, failing to spot anyone resembling Jaime.

On the ships carrying the other envoys, someone remarked with sarcasm, "The Empire truly looks down on us, sending a dwarf and a cripple to greet us."

His words soured the expressions of the others in the cabin. A dwarf and a cripple welcoming them indeed felt like an insult.

However, on the other side, a woman in black robes represented the Dothraki under Mago Khal.

Her robes were voluminous, concealing her figure, and she wore a red wooden mask on her face, obscuring her features. But her eyes were bright, and she was flanked by several Dothraki guards tasked with protecting the priestess.

She glanced at the speaker, one of the three Princes of Lorath, the Prince of Plenty, and spoke calmly.

"They are indeed a dwarf and a cripple, but they are also the Emperor's personal advisor and the Master of Coin."

"Perhaps you should consider why a dwarf and a cripple can hold important positions within the Empire."

Qaithe's words caused the Prince of Plenty's face to redden rapidly, and he couldn't help but retort.

"I didn't know the Dothraki had started sending women."

The Dothraki guards at Qaithe's side, though unable to understand what was being said, could tell from the prince's expression that his words were likely unkind.

The warriors under Mago Khal flew into a rage, drawing their arakhs, while the guards of the Lorathi prince tensed, sensing an imminent brawl.

However, Qaithe restrained her Dothraki warriors, speaking a few words in their language, and they reluctantly sheathed their arakhs, shooting dangerous glares at the prince and making a throat-slitting gesture.

The Prince of Plenty's face darkened, realizing he had misspoken. These reckless Dothraki might seize any opportunity to take his head.

Moreover, he had come to King's Landing not to negotiate on behalf of Lorath but to flee with the fleet. After all, the three Princes of Lorath - of Plenty, of Fisheries, and of Streets - had gradually become figurehead, with real power resting in the hands of a council composed of nobles, priests, and merchants.

The central regions of Essos had largely fallen. The wood-walkers of the Kingdom of Ifequevron could only contend with the White Walkers in the forests, but the forests were few, and vast swathes of land had been occupied by the undead.

The once-proud Realm of Sarnor was reduced to its last remnant, Mazor Alexi and his twenty thousand men clinging to life in Saath. The Kingdom of Omber, which had annually paid tribute of grain, gems, and maidens to the Dothraki khals for protection, was on the brink of extinction. Most of its people had joined the ranks of the army of the dead, ravenously devouring the remaining lives.

The chill winds of winter had descended upon northern Essos, and the Dothraki, despite receiving Omber's 'protection money,' were struggling to fend for themselves.

Heavy snows, unseen for years, blanketed Vaes Dothrak, the sacred city of the Dothraki. The entire city of the horselords was draped in silver, and the lake known as the Womb of the World had frozen over.

The Dothraki tribes were in a state of panic, believing the gods had brought down a calamity upon them. After all, the existence of maegi had emerged within the Dothraki, and years ago, the sacred city, where no blood should be spilled, had witnessed a massacre. This was a punishment from the heavens.

A riot had erupted in Vaes Dothrak but was swiftly quelled. Then, one of the three priestesses of the tribes, Qaithe, had volunteered to journey to the west in search of answers to their predicament.

Coincidentally, the Free Cities had banded together to seek aid in King's Landing, so she had boarded their ships to join them.

Chapter 796: Remarriage

Willas and Tyrion welcomed the envoys from Essos—the Sealord of Braavos, magisters, princes, and others—into the Red Keep, holding a welcoming feast. However, not only was Viserys absent, but even the attendance of the Small Council members was sparse.

The Hand of the King, Myles Toyne; the Master of Whispers, Varys; and the Lord of the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton, did not attend. The Master of Agriculture, the Master of Crafts, and others were present at the welcoming feast.

Notably, the Master of War, Kago, had returned to King's Landing at some unknown time. He and a few of his tribesmen sat at a nearby table, drinking heartily. On the other side, the Dothraki guards standing beside the Frog Prince cast curious glances in their direction.

They had also heard of a tribe that had sworn allegiance to the Empire, active on the great plains east of Pentos, guarding the Empire's eastern frontier. However, these Dothraki would not feel ashamed, as submitting to the strong was a normal thing in their eyes, especially when the other party was a dragonrider like Kago.

The Dothraki were not a united race, often embroiled in internal strife. Throughout history, instances of unification had been scarce; otherwise, they would have long conquered the world.

If two Dothraki encountered each other in an unfamiliar foreign land, they wouldn't have a tearful "hometown reunion." However, they also wouldn't be hostile. There was simply no deep bond between tribesmen, no sense of shared ethnicity—only the identification with one's own tribe.

But even so, comparing the two sides, the Frog Prince's guards indeed appeared a tad poorer.

The Dothraki guards glanced at their meager attire—horse-hair leg wraps, painted leather vests—while the other group wore fur armor, thick leather boots with embedded metal plates, bronze belts, and carried bows and arrows. The arakh swords hanging at their waists gleamed, far superior to the shabby weapons in their own hands.

The Dothraki guards felt a sense of imbalance in their hearts. On the other side, after some rounds of toasts at the banquet, Tormo Fregar, the Sealord of Braavos, politely asked, "Lord Willas, might I inquire as to His Majesty's current whereabouts?"

The magisters of Lorath and Norvos, the red priests from Qohor, and others at the same table all turned their attention, as Viserys had not appeared at the feast, despite being the protagonist of this gathering.

"His Majesty is currently stationed at the Wall," Willas replied.

"However, we have sent word to the North. I believe His Majesty will return soon."

Although the distance from Castle Black to King's Landing seemed vast, riding a dragon would not take long. The Sealord of Braavos, who had been on edge, breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this and nodded.

"That's good."

He had gathered so many people to come to King's Landing to seek aid, fearing that Viserys would refuse to see him. After all, with the long night descending, everyone was preoccupied with their own troubles.

Who had the capacity to care for others? Seeking help was not an easy feat.

At another table in the Red Keep's banquet hall, a kindly-looking old man in a cloak was eating leisurely. However, the black-haired, hook-nosed man beside him seemed restless, constantly raising his head to look around.

Tyrion, on the other side, noticed him because the man's gaze frequently fell upon him. Tyrion vaguely remembered that the kindly-looking old man should have been wearing a golden mask. Could this be his appearance with the mask removed?

The black-haired, hook-nosed man's gaze landed on Tyrion once more, and he made a gesture. Tyrion instantly understood.

"Oh, apologies, my lords," Tyrion shrugged apologetically. He placed his wine goblet in the hand of a passing servant girl, his fingers "accidentally" brushing against her bottom, eliciting a glare. He then quickly walked towards a balcony outside the Red Keep's banquet hall.

The other man also discreetly said a few words in Valyrian to those around him and left his seat, arriving at the balcony Tyrion had just entered. He closed the balcony's large doors.

"Tyrion, it's me," the black-haired, hook-nosed man said after entering. "Jaime."

However, Tyrion showed no reaction, shrugging as if he couldn't understand his words. It was only when the man removed his disguise, revealing his true face, that Tyrion breathed a sigh of relief.

"Phew~" Tyrion sighed. "Jaime."

"You know I have to be careful here."

Tyrion slightly turned his head, glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention. He then had Jaime put his disguise back on, reverting to the black-haired, hook-nosed appearance from earlier. Tyrion joked, "Actually, I had already guessed it was you. Do you believe me?"

"Enough with the nonsense, Tyrion," Jaime retorted, not mincing words upon seeing his long-lost brother. He had someone else he wanted to see even more.

"Where is Cersei?"

"I've come to take Cersei away this time."

Jaime had previously attempted to break into the Red Keep to take Cersei away but had been surrounded and attacked by Unsullied soldiers, failing in his endeavor. This time, he had successfully infiltrated the Red Keep, a rare opportunity for him. He wanted to seize the chance to take Cersei away.

However, upon hearing his elder brother's words, Tyrion fell silent for a moment. His joking earlier was in the hope that his brother would not bring up this matter, but Tyrion's brows furrowed, hesitating to speak. Jaime noticed all of this, and a sense of unease rose in his heart.

"Speak, Tyrion," Jaime urged.

"Where is Cersei?"

"What happened to Cersei?"

A bad premonition surged in Jaime's heart, his heart rate accelerating. As a Faceless Man in Braavos across the Narrow Sea, he naturally had no way to inquire about the condition of Cersei, who was detained in the Red Keep. After all, many years had passed. The former prince had been reduced to a stable boy, and the former queen was even less of a concern.

Could Cersei be dead?

Jaime felt as if he had been struck by lightning, his mind going blank.

However, Tyrion seemed to have guessed his brother's thoughts. He sighed with a furrowed brow, his expression somewhat distressed as he spoke.

"Don't overthink, Jaime," Tyrion said.

"Cersei is not dead."

"It's just..."

Tyrion still hesitated to speak.

"Just what?" Jaime asked impatiently.

"It's just... Cersei has remarried," Tyrion finally took a deep breath and said, looking at his brother's urgent expression.

Upon hearing this, Jaime stood there, stunned, unable to recover for a long time.

Chapter 797: The Governor's Wife

Two years ago, two men simultaneously sought to marry the former queen, Cersei, from the Emperor of the Empire.

One was Euron Greyjoy, the Governor of the Iron Islands. He came to King's Landing for an audience and, upon seeing Cersei, couldn't take his eyes off her. He vowed to marry her, making it his second request to the Emperor for her hand in marriage.

The other suitor seeking the hand of the former queen, wife of Robert Baratheon, was Tobho Mott, the Empire's master craftsman and the Master of Guilds.

As a blacksmith by origin who had risen to a seat on the Small Council, the best way for him to integrate into the noble circle was to marry a woman of noble birth. Cersei, whose family had perished and lacked a maternal house, became a choice.

After Viserys allowed Cersei to leave the Red Keep, Tobho Mott began his fervent pursuit of her.

However, when asked for her opinion, Cersei ultimately chose to marry Euron Greyjoy, the Governor of the Iron Islands.

Although the Iron Islands now had only a few thousand people after the disaster, Euron was still young and vigorous, better than marrying a balding old man.

Moreover, Tobho Mott was a blacksmith by origin. Although he had a stroke of luck crafting a sword for His Majesty the Emperor, becoming a noble and even sitting on the Small Council, Cersei still looked down on him from the bottom of her heart.

Two years ago, Cersei left the Red Keep to marry Euron Greyjoy, a glorious remarriage. Now, the former dynasty had passed, and the new dynasty had firmly established itself, shining like the midday sun.

Unless one was a fool, no one would consider using Cersei, Joffrey, or others to rebel, unless they could withstand the attack of eight giant dragons. Furthermore, Cersei's remarriage meant relinquishing her status as the former queen.

Viserys had fulfilled his earlier promise. Cersei had surrendered the capital of the Seven Kingdoms in its entirety, and he would spare the lives of her two children and herself.

Cersei had actually also requested to spare Jaime, but Viserys didn't agree. Although he didn't harbor much hatred for this 'father-killer,' as a transmigrator, he didn't consider Aerys, whom he had only met once, as his father.

Although forgiving a father-killer might sound like a beautiful tale, unless Jaime had accomplished some heaven-defying feat, it would still invite criticism.

However, over the years, Viserys hadn't really taken the matter of tracking down Jaime seriously, which was an indirect way of sparing him.

After remarrying Euron, Cersei took her and Jaime's daughter, Myrcella, with her, believing her young daughter needed her care.

She had also wanted to take Joffrey, but for various reasons, she was unsuccessful. Thus, Joffrey was left in King's Landing. After being abandoned by his birth mother, his character flaws magnified, turning him into his current self.

"You..."

"Tyrion, what did you just say?"

It took Jaime a long while to react to his brother's words, and he asked in a dazed manner.

Tyrion, however, closed his eyes in pain, taking a deep breath. He couldn't bear to see his brother in this state. Jaime had just removed his disguise, revealing his true appearance, but Tyrion didn't see the handsome knight with golden hair, green eyes, and a smile as sharp as a blade that he once was.

Tyrion only saw a middle-aged man with Jaime's facial features, but with darkened skin and a heavy stubble.

Jaime seemed to have experienced many vicissitudes over the years, and his eyes no longer carried the pride and confidence they once did, instead becoming more settled.

But all the setbacks Jaime had experienced were nothing compared to Tyrion's words now.

Tyrion's words were like a sharp spear, ruthlessly piercing through the last fragile defenses of Jaime's heart.

"Cersei remarried?"

The black-haired, hook-nosed man was actually wearing a mask as a disguise. Tyrion didn't know if Jaime had shed tears behind the mask, but his gaze still made Tyrion slightly uncomfortable. So Tyrion took another deep breath and spoke.

"Yes, you heard correctly, Jaime."

"Cersei has remarried."

Although he was reluctant to face Jaime's gaze, Tyrion felt that some things needed to be made clear. Therefore, his tone was somewhat heavier as he repeated it once more.

"Tyrion," Jaime said, slightly dazed for a moment, then seemed to think of something, like a drowning man grasping at a piece of driftwood. He finally asked, "Did you tell her that I'm still alive?"

Jaime hoped that Cersei didn't know he was still alive and thus hadn't continued waiting, remarrying someone else. However, Tyrion looked at Jaime with a sorrowful expression and shook his head, ruthlessly shattering his illusion.

"I once tried to stop her, but I failed."

"I told her the news that you were still alive, but Cersei locked herself in her room and cried her heart out. Then, when she came out, she still told me that she was going to marry Euron Greyjoy."

"And..." Tyrion hesitated again at this point but only paused for a moment before continuing, "Cersei hoped that I would tell you in the future that you had escaped for five years, and she had waited for you for five years."

"But she didn't want to continue doing laundry for people in the Red Keep."

Tyrion's words once again silenced Jaime. He lowered his head slightly, took a deep breath, then raised his head again.

But this time, his eyes no longer held the earlier sadness, seeming to have calmed his emotions and become much more composed.

However, at this moment, there seemed to be some conflict in the banquet hall on the other side. Two Dothraki men were shouting something loudly.

It seemed that Qaithe's guards were somewhat unbalanced, denouncing the other party for changing the proud traditions of the Dothraki. They stepped forward to provoke Khal Jhaqo, and Jhaqo's guards also stood up. The two Dothraki men were about to engage in a duel inside the banquet hall.

But although Jaime had calmed his emotions, he had no desire to watch the commotion. He only glanced in that direction before shifting his gaze back to his brother, asking, "So who did Cersei marry later?"

"At that time, two men were pursuing her simultaneously. One was the Governor of the Iron Islands, Euron Greyjoy, and the other was the Master of Guilds, Tobho Mott."

"But in the end, Cersei chose to marry Euron Greyjoy, the 'Iron King,' moving to the Iron Islands. She has now shed the title of queen and become the Governor's wife of Pyke."

Tyrion shook his head and said, "I heard she's pregnant again."

Chapter 798: Repairing the Wall

299 AC, 7th year of the New Calendar.

The turn of the century.

"Hrraaah—" A deep, resonant dragon's roar echoed through the night sky above King's Landing. Viserys, riding his dragon alone, returned from the North, once again in the Empire's capital.

After much deliberation, he had decided to leave both Rhaenys and Daenerys at Castle Black, despite his concerns about the White Walkers' potential diversionary tactics and his unease about his two wives facing the Night King.

However, there was no better solution at the moment. If only one dragonrider were left to guard the Wall, it would be even more dangerous. Having two people there would allow them to support each other.

Viserys and Daenerys had a heart-to-heart conversation, resolving their misunderstandings. Daenerys let go of her reservations, and Viserys also broke free from his mental predicament.

He had promised to wed Daenerys, and after that night in the cave, they had returned to the Wall. Under the heart tree, with the Northern soldiers as witnesses, they held a low-key wedding ceremony.

Viserys had discreetly taken his third empress.

In the following months, Viserys began the task of repairing the breach in the Wall.

He employed the method of constructing black stone buildings, as provided by the red priest Moqorro. Using the dragonflame of the three dragons—Balerion, Rhaegal, and Viserion—he melted the unyielding stone.

Then, through special techniques, he infused the black magic he had mastered into the molten stone, transforming it into blocks of black stone. With the concerted efforts and collaboration of tens of thousands of imperial soldiers, they finally repaired the collapsed section of Castle Black after several months of hard work.

When the last colossal black stone was transported from the base of the Wall to the top, seven hundred feet high, using a crane and then placed into the final gap with the help of a hoisting boom and rollers, thunderous cheers erupted from the imperial frontier in the North, shrouded in the long night.

"Ohhhhhhh!" Tens of thousands of imperial soldiers and nobles raised their arms and shouted, free from class divisions or barriers. They embraced each other in celebration, singing hymns of praise. The firelight in the dark night illuminated the entire sky.

This was the most inspiring and cheer-worthy event since the calamity of the long night had descended.

The imperial soldiers guarding the frontier also had smiles on their faces, briefly relieved of their psychological burden as they celebrated. After all, with the Wall repaired, people felt a precious sense of safety in their hearts.

In this era, even the faintest glimmer of hope was worth singing about.

After successfully repairing Castle Black, Viserys used the skull of the white raven to artificially bring down a heavy rain.

However, the falling raindrops turned into snowflakes before reaching the ground. The fluttering snowflakes descended, quickly enveloping the tall Wall standing on the Empire's northern frontier.

Overnight, the once-collapsed section of Castle Black returned to its former appearance. The newly repaired wall was covered in a thick layer of frost, making it impossible to discern that it had once been a massive breach.

"This is a miracle!" The Northern soldiers and the elderly members of the Night's Watch guarding the Wall exclaimed upon seeing this sight. They had never dreamed that the fallen Wall could be restored to its former glory.

Some believed it was the work of the old gods of the North, while others thought the Seven had witnessed the suffering of the world. There were also those who had faith in the Lord of Light.

However, a small but growing group of people who were increasingly realizing that "man can conquer nature" was steadily expanding. They believed that under the leadership of His Majesty the Emperor, the Empire would undoubtedly emerge from the darkness and reclaim the light.

While Viserys was leading by example, guiding the three dragons and tens of thousands of soldiers to repair the Wall in the biting cold wind, another piece of joyous news arrived.

The Empire's third lady, His Majesty the Emperor's newly wed little princess, now the young empress Daenerys, had discovered that she was pregnant while stationed at Castle Black.

Her first moon's blood had come more than a year ago, but since the second month after the previous incident, Daenerys had noticed that her moon's blood had not arrived.

Subsequently, after an assessment by their great-uncle Maester Aemon, it was determined that Daenerys was pregnant.

"Wonderful," the white-haired, blind old man chuckled, unable to contain his smile. "Wonderful, little Dany."

Not long ago, the Targaryen family had faced their most critical moment of peril. They had lost the throne, and the last remaining loyal fleet from Dragonstone had escorted a seven-year-old prince, his niece—the daughter of the former crown prince—and an infant sister to seek refuge on another continent.

At that time, Maester Aemon had even felt a sense of despair, believing that the family was on the brink of extinction. He experienced the most intense wavering in his life regarding the vows he had always upheld.

However, in the end, Maester Aemon had persevered in his vows.

As time passed and the world changed, perhaps no one could have imagined that the Targaryen family would emerge from their most perilous moment so quickly.

They had reclaimed the Iron Throne and established an empire even greater than that of Aegon the Conqueror.

Moreover, the Targaryen family's numbers were rapidly recovering. Viserys, the head of the imperial royal family, was still young and in his prime, yet he was already expecting his third child.

As the family's numbers gradually flourished, Maester Aemon naturally felt delighted from the bottom of his heart.

Although he had renounced his surname and taken sacred vows, his family was the hot blood in his body, something he could never relinquish, even though Maester Aemon was now approaching his end, having lived for a full one hundred and one years.

Not long ago, Viserys and Daenerys had ventured beyond the Wall together and had not returned for a night. Afterward, Viserys and Daenerys had held a wedding ceremony under the heart tree, and by the second month, the young empress had conceived a child.

Everyone understood what had happened, but they still offered their heartfelt blessings, including Viserys' second wife, Rhaenys Targaryen.

Rhaenys had a lively and kind personality, arguably the most pure-hearted and guileless among Viserys' wives. Therefore, she was genuinely happy for Daenerys.

It was precisely at this juncture, with Daenerys two to three months pregnant, that Viserys received a letter from King's Landing. After some consideration, he decided to temporarily return to the capital to see what these people wanted to discuss.

Originally, upon learning that the White Walkers had appeared in Ib, Viserys had pondered and decided to fly to the other side of the world to confront them.

However, the news of Daenerys' pregnancy had disrupted his plans.

Chapter 799: Leading Humanity

It was under these circumstances that Viserys, on the last day of the old century, rode his dragon back to King's Landing.

Tomorrow would be the first day of the new century, the year 300 AL and 8 NL. However, it was not a promising start to the century. Human civilization was shrouded in darkness, its future uncertain and difficult to predict.

If humanity could not replicate the glory of their ancestors and once again triumph over the darkness, they would likely perish in this endless Long Night.

It was with this dream of saving humanity that leaders and representatives from all factions of the western world—the Sealord of Braavos, the Magisters and three Princes of Lorath, the Magister-Monk of Norvos, the Red Priests of Qohor, the Triarchs of Volantis, envoys from the Kingdom of Sarnor, the Kingdom of Omber, the 'Forest Walkers' of Ifequevron, representatives of the Dothraki, and the Magisters and Archons of the Three Daughters: Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh—gathered in the rebuilt capital of the Valyrian Empire from across the Narrow Sea in Essos to convene the ultimate meeting to save the world and discuss the future of humanity.

This meeting was momentous enough to be recorded in history books with great emphasis. The usually stagnant state of King's Landing had come alive.

The main reason was the sudden influx of so many foreigners in the city. The City Watch maintained order on the streets, and news of such a grand event had already leaked out.

People had high hopes for this meeting, as uniting to defeat the darkness was everyone's desire. In the face of survival, all past conflicts could be temporarily set aside for unity and cooperation.

However, the progress of the negotiations was not smooth, mainly due to the unclear division of obligations and responsibilities that each faction needed to bear.

For example, the wood-walkers of Ifequevron, whose race and nation were on the brink of extinction, as the lands occupied by the White Walkers had surrounded their homes, could only rely on the forests to barely contend with them.

Similarly, the Sarnori of the Kingdom of Sarnor and the kings and nobles of the Omber Peninsula were also in the same situation. Their nations and races were on the verge of extinction, and they were at a point where they had to fight for their lives.

However, for the distant Volantenes, they had not yet seen the imminent danger. Although the consequences of not controlling the situation could be foreseen, Volantis was still too far from the White Walkers, just as Dorne's attitude towards the White Walker invasion during the first war between humans and White Walkers.

The Volantenes, as the mistresses of the Summer Sea and one of the overlords of Essos, were only willing to take on a very small responsibility, sending a small number of troops to participate in the fighting and unwilling to provide food.

In fact, armies could be dispatched, but no one was willing to contribute food. After all, if the Long Night continued, these soldiers would all die sooner or later, but food was truly something that diminished with each bite. Many of those present had plans to dig a cellar and survive the entire Long Night.

Therefore, the inability to unify the responsibilities and obligations of each power naturally led to endless arguments.

Braavos, on the other hand, had a long-term vision. The Sealord of Braavos, the Keyholder of the Iron Bank, and others could recognize the consequences of not being able to stop the White Walkers' advance.

But people still had their own agendas. When asked to send out the invincible fleet to attack Ibben from the sea and cut off the White Walkers' retreat, these Braavosi shook their heads faster than a rattle drum.

However, the problem was in front of them and needed to be solved. The wood-walker envoy from Ifequevron, his face filled with anger, finally couldn't bear it any longer. He slammed the table, stood up, and shouted.

"Enough!"

"Everyone! While we argue here, our enemies are constantly growing stronger!"

The wood-walkers were one of the most miserable nations after the White Walkers landed from Ibben this time, second only to the Ibbenese.

Ibben had been destroyed, turning into a living hell, and the Nefer became the last of the Ibbenese. They didn't think of uniting to resist the White Walkers' invasion and reclaim their homeland but instead fled towards the Bone Mountains, hoping that the eastern world held the hope for the continuation of their race.

The wood-walkers, on the other hand, did not flee. They chose to fight the invaders to the death. Now, the wood-walker territory was surrounded by the White Walkers. They could only rely on magic to contend with them in the forests, facing the danger of annihilation at any moment.

Therefore, the envoy from Ifequevron was naturally anxious and couldn't help but slam the table and shout.

However, the wood-walker envoy's words did have some effect. The human supreme council was held in the throne room of the Red Keep. The envoys, magisters, and princes of various nations and city-states were seated in chairs below. Instantly, the room quieted down considerably.

The Ifequevron were known as 'Forest Envoys' because they lived in the forests like the children of the forest and were said to possess forest magic.

However, the wood-walkers and the children of the forest in Westeros were two similar but not identical races. They were short in stature but slightly taller than the children of the forest. Their arms and cheeks had wrinkles resembling tree bark, and they had green eyes and wore leaves on their bodies.

"That's right," the Sealord of Braavos calmed down and turned to look at the representatives of the many nations and city-states present. "While we argue here, the White Walkers are constantly devouring innocent lives to strengthen themselves."

All those who had been arguing with flushed faces and thick necks had now calmed down, but they were still unwilling to give up their interests and pay a higher price.

At this moment, in the throne room of the Red Keep, several stone pillars burned with fire, emitting light and heat. Unsullied soldiers with icy expressions guarded this palace that had witnessed many historical stories.

The protagonist of this human supreme council, the young founding Emperor of the Valyrian Empire, sat on the hideous throne in the center of the palace. His figure swayed slightly in the firelight, and the throne beneath him emitted a metallic sheen.

The young man with silver-gold hair and a handsome face wore a Valyrian steel crown, the red gem in the center radiating warmth. At this moment, his pair of pale purple eyes were looking down at the chaos that had just unfolded below.

"To defeat the Long Night," Viserys spoke, his voice echoing in the vast throne room, "everyone must unite, or it will be the path to death."

Below, the princes, magisters, wood-walker envoys from Ifequevron, the Sealord of Braavos, and others from numerous nations and city-states fell silent in an instant. Not a single person made a sound, and some even couldn't help but take a deep breath and sit up straight.

"We are the light of all civilized worlds."

"If even we lose, the entire world will be beyond saving!"

"Even if we flee to the Summer Isles to eke out an existence..."

On the other side, not far from Viserys, in a corner, a maester from the Citadel was hurriedly transcribing something, his heart surging with excitement, not missing a single word Viserys had said.

Because he knew that at this moment, he was witnessing the birth of history.

Chapter 800: Forging the Dragon Spear

The princes and magisters of the various kingdoms and city-states of Essos gathered in King's Landing to discuss methods of saving the world, dividing the responsibilities and obligations that all kingdoms and city-states should bear, and uniting to confront the common enemy of all humanity.

This was a meeting of survival and salvation. At the beginning, there were arguments due to long-standing issues of interest, but the Wooden Men envoys took the lead in standing up. Then, a speech by the emperor of the Valyrian Empire, currently the largest human nation, allowed everyone to temporarily set aside their prejudices and conflicts of interest, uniting together.

If someone else had said such words, they might not have been able to convince the crowd, but Viserys could do it, and he was the only one qualified to say these words.

The people had traveled thousands of miles to King's Landing to request that the Valyrian Empire take on the responsibility of saving the fate of the human world, dispatching troops and dragons to fight against the White Walkers.

Therefore, before setting out, everyone had already tacitly accepted that the Empire would lead all of humanity in launching a defensive war. Likewise, only the Empire was capable of doing so.

No other city-state in Essos, be it Braavos, the Dothraki, or the descendants of the Ghiscari Empire—Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen, and others—although they were all regional hegemons when taken individually, with even more ancient and long-standing histories, were unable to shoulder such a heavy responsibility in the face of this disaster.

With the heavy responsibility on his shoulders, Viserys' division of responsibilities and obligations was very simple: the more powerful nations would bear more responsibility, divided according to their proportion. The weaker nations and city-states also had their own responsibilities, not entirely relying on the powerful city-states and nations while they themselves stayed on the sidelines.

This was a battle for the survival of all humanity. If one still harbored hopes of luck or selfish motives at this time, it would naturally be a path to death.

Due to Daenerys' pregnancy, Viserys had not originally planned to leave Westeros. He wanted to stay by Daenerys' side. In fact, he had not expected the timing to be so perfect on that night in the cave, hitting the target with a single shot. The child Daenerys was carrying was likely conceived on that very night.

However, when Viserys received the letter from King's Landing and was preparing to return to the capital, Daenerys, with her slightly bulging belly, and his other wife, Rhaenys, came to find Viserys together.

Rhaenys and Daenerys did not want to become a burden to Viserys and told him that if he needed to go to Essos, he should do so without worrying about them.

Rhaenys and Daenerys both had their own mounts, Rhaegal and Viserion, to protect them. Their sister, Arianne, was in Highgarden, located in the heartland of the Empire, theoretically safer. Moreover, Arianne had two children with her, Diana and Haelos, and two dragons by her side.

Arianne, Rhaenys, and Daenerys all had the ability to protect themselves, so there was no need to worry. Their husband could fly to Essos to save the world, and they would guard their home for him, sharing the burden on his shoulders.

Upon hearing Rhaenys and Daenerys' words, Viserys felt both touched and began to waver in his previous thoughts.

In the end, saving the entire world was a responsibility he should shoulder.

"Love is the greatest taboo of responsibility!" Viserys also recalled the warning his great-uncle, Maester Aemon, had given him. The old man was the longest-lived person in the entire world, yet his body was still quite robust.

After reclaiming the Iron Throne, Viserys had once invited Maester Aemon to stay in King's Landing, but the old man had refused and told him those words just now.

Maester Aemon was not referring to himself but was reminding Viserys that in the future, no matter the situation, when love and responsibility came into conflict, he should make the most correct judgment.

Therefore, later on, during the Night's Watch's campaign to reclaim the North, Maester Aemon, despite being nearly a hundred years old, still insisted on leaving King's Landing and returning to the Wall to complete his watch.

After the division of responsibilities among the various city-states and nations was completed, the next few days were spent discussing the details of forming the allied army.

First was the dispatch of troops. Each city-state would contribute according to their share of responsibility. For example, Astapor sent three thousand Unsullied and contributed a large amount of grain.

The Dothraki under Mango Kago relied on pillaging for a living and did not engage in production. There was not much food among the tribes, so they could not provide a large amount of grain and required other nations and city-states to support them. Thus, they could only dispatch more troops to aid in the war effort.

Braavos sent its invincible fleet, which could traverse the entire Shivering Sea without any opponents.

Volantis provided a powerful land army to prevent the White Walkers from further spreading on the continent from the front.

At this time, the Wooden Men of the Kingdom of Ifequevron proposed that their people possessed ancient spells that could make all plants grow under the magical breeze, without needing sunlight to survive.

Although the efficiency of the Wooden Men was not very high, this could still be considered a major surprise. At the very least, all those present were at the top of the world's pyramid. Even if the final resistance failed and everyone starved to death, they would certainly be the last to do so.

Under the shroud of the long night, King's Landing was hosting the supreme human council, with the leaders of various nations discussing the specific matters of forming the allied army. Although time was of the essence, this matter could not be handled carelessly.

To achieve victory in war, the soldiers on the battlefield needed to fight bravely, the commanders needed to make the right judgments, and the logistics and supply coordination at the rear were indispensable. Especially when facing such an enemy, even greater care and caution were required.

During the time the supreme human council was being held, Viserys was not idle either.

He took out several Valyrian steel swords that were treasured in the vault. These were all confiscated during the conquest war and were collected as spoils of war in the national treasury after the war ended.

These Valyrian steel weapons included House Stark's "Ice," House Tarly's "Heartsbane," and House Hightower's "Vigilance." Although it was claimed that this sword had been lost, it was still found when House Hightower was raided.

In addition to these swords, there were also some daggers, knives, rings, and other small items. Viserys had intentionally collected quite a few Valyrian steel items, and today they finally had a use.

Viserys sought out Tobho Mott, the Master of Crafts, and requested that he reforge all these Valyrian steel weapons into a new dragon spear. He wanted to wield this long spear as he headed to Essos to confront the Night King.

Upon hearing His Majesty the Emperor's command, the great craftsman Tobho Mott, who had previously forged a sword for Viserys, excitedly accepted the order.

While the council was still in session on one side, he had already reforged these Valyrian steel weapons on the other side and was working on creating the largest Valyrian steel weapon recorded in modern history.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Prologue:
Chapter 2: Chapter 1 : Viserys
Chapter 2: Escaping King's Landing
Chapter 3: Dragonslayer
Chapter 4: Swordplay
Chapter 5: Ambushed at Dawn
Chapter 7: Chapter 6 - Skirmish
Chapter 7: Courage
Chapter 9: Chapter 8- Kevan Lannister
Chapter 10: Chapter 9 - Dun Fort

Chapter 11: Chapter 10 - Attribute Enhancement

Chapter 11: Setting Sail
Chapter 12: Dragonstone
Chapter 13: Coronation
Chapter 14: Wrath
Chapter 15: Nightmares and Disasters
Chapter 16: The Blink of an eye
Chapter 17: Embers of Rage
Chapter 18: The Prince in the Prophecy
Chapter 20: 19: The Siege of Storm's End
Chapter 21: Chapter 20, Conquest Year 284
Chapter 21: The Battle of Dragonstone
Chapter 22: The Queen of Greenhill
Chapter 23: Lost
Chapter 24: The Courageous Band
Chapter 25: Inescapable Melancholy
Chapter 26: Crisis Approaches
Chapter 27: The Chase
Chapter 28: Hiding
Chapter 29: Killing the Enemy
Chapter 30: Failure
Chapter 31: Ruthless
Chapter 32: Connections
Chapter 33: Sir Joffrey
Chapter 34: Bold Ideas
Chapter 35: Taking the Initiative
Chapter 36: The Storm is Coming
Chapter 37: Stannis
Chapter 38: A Flame in the Storm
Chapter 39: Birth of the Storm
Chapter 40: Daenerys Targaryen

Chapter 41: The Hand of the King in the Royal Presence

Chapter 42: Quarrel
Chapter 43: Homecoming
Chapter 44: Tears
Chapter 45: Burial
Chapter 46: The Traitor
Chapter 47: Traces of Conspiracy
Chapter 48: The Rebellion
Chapter 49: Blood and Fire
Chapter 50: Suppressing the Rebellion
Chapter 51: Interrogation
Chapter 52: Hallucinogen
Chapter 53: Execution
Chapter 54: Braavos
Chapter 55: The Handwritten Letter
Chapter 56: Relatives by Marriage
Chapter 57: The Hand of the King
Chapter 58: Decision
Chapter 59: The Heir
Chapter 60: Departure
Chapter 61: Journey
Chapter 62: The Water Dancer
Chapter 63: Kidnapping
Chapter 64: Mirri of Lhazar
Chapter 65: Punishment
Chapter 66: The Essence of the World
Chapter 67: Arrival
Chapter 68: The Prince of Dorne
Chapter 69: Meeting with the Sea Lord
Chapter 70: Signing the Pact
Chapter 71: Hidden Intentions

Chapter 72: Setting Aside the Marriage Proposal

Chapter 73: Farewell
Chapter 74: Return to Dragonstone
Chapter 75: The Struggle in the Citadel
Chapter 76: The King Favored by the Gods
Chapter 77: Shadow Pumas
Chapter 78: Establishing a Foothold
Chapter 79: Faith and Gold
Chapter 80: Andalos City
Chapter 81: Five Years
Chapter 82: Valor
Chapter 83: City of Wood
Chapter 84: The Prince of Pentos
Chapter 85: Invitation
Chapter 86: The Kingsguard
Chapter 87: Pentos
Chapter 88: Dragon Eggs
Chapter 89: Khal Baelbor
Chapter 90: Drogo
Chapter 91: Mansion
Chapter 92: The Land of Right and Wrong
Chapter 93: Going Home
Chapter 94: Dragons
Chapter 95: The Name
Chapter 96: The Fleet
Chapter 97: Burning
Chapter 98: Ironborn
Chapter 99: King of the Iron Islands
Chapter 100: Hatching the Egg
Chapter 101: Dragon Dreams
Chapter 102: Golden Patterns
Chapter 103: The Red Priestess
Chapter 104: Battle of Seagate City
Chapter 105: The Rhoynar
Chapter 106: Assassination
Chapter 107: Half a Year
Chapter 108: The Dothraki
Chapter 109: Encirclement
Chapter 110: The Battle
Chapter 111: The Dothraki
Chapter 112: Night
Chapter 113: Challenge
Chapter 114: The Emissaries
Chapter 115: Challenge
Chapter 116: Provocation
Chapter 117: Fury
Chapter 118: Regency
Chapter 119: Judgment
Chapter 120: Fire
Chapter 121: Assessment
Chapter 122: Pincer Attack
Chapter 123: The Greatest Horse Warrior
Chapter 124: Ominous Premonition
Chapter 125: Setting Fires
Chapter 126: Sorcery

Chapter 127: Unprecedented Change in a Century

Chapter 128: Breaking the Army
Chapter 129: The Curtain Falls
Chapter 130: The Death of Drogo

Chapter 131: An Unexpected Surprise No One Saw Coming

Chapter 132: Fallen
Chapter 133: The Dragon
Chapter 134: Rhaegal
Chapter 135: Awakening
Chapter 136: Balerion
Chapter 137: The Legion
Chapter 138: The Fallen Star
Chapter 139: Bandits
Chapter 140: Heart of the Star
Chapter 141: Return
Chapter 142: Melisandre
Chapter 143: False Gods and True Gods
Chapter 144: The Death of Mirri
Chapter 145: Capture
Chapter 146: Return
Chapter 147: The Prison
Chapter 148: Details
Chapter 149: Defeat and Retreat
Chapter 150: Preparing for War
Chapter 151: Royal Council Meeting
Chapter 152: The Loan
Chapter 153: Struggle
Chapter 154: The Feudal System
Chapter 155: Harvest Feast
Chapter 156: A Letter
Chapter 157: Poisoned Wine
Chapter 158: Gillyan Lannister
Chapter 159: Little Bird
Chapter 160: Heavenly Appraisal
Chapter 161: The Devil's Land
Chapter 162: Memoirs
Chapter 163: The Castle of Valyria
Chapter 164: Swords, Armor, and Horns
Chapter 165: Escape from Valyria
Chapter 166: The Dragon's Horn
Chapter 167: Benjen Stark
Chapter 168: Winter is Coming
Chapter 169: Tobho Mott
Chapter 170: Forging Weapons
Chapter 171: One-handed Sword
Chapter 172: The Messenger of Light
Chapter 173: Grave Digging
Chapter 174: Withdrawal
Chapter 175: Tywin
Chapter 176: Forging Ahead
Chapter 177: Dusk
Chapter 178: Gendry
Chapter 179: Ramsay Snow
Chapter 180: Petyr Baelish
Chapter 181: Surveillance
Chapter 182: Future Plans
Chapter 183: Intelligence
Chapter 184: Intent
Chapter 185: The Saint
Chapter 186: The Princess of Dorne
Chapter 187: Wilderness Camp
Chapter 188: Fort of Valiant Souls
Chapter 189: Dangerous Game
Chapter 190: Dinner
Chapter 191: Guarding the Gate
Chapter 192: Setting Out
Chapter 193: Arrival
Chapter 194: Assassin
Chapter 195: The Unsullied
Chapter 196: Hidden Agendas
Chapter 197: Surveillance
Chapter 198: Inspection
Chapter 199: Infiltration
Chapter 200: The Windblown
Chapter 201: A Long History
Chapter 202: Cooperation
Chapter 203: Provocation and Counterattack
Chapter 204: Exposure
Chapter 205: Griffin
Chapter 206: Turmoil Underneath
Chapter 207: Cornered and Dagger Revealed
Chapter 208: Encirclement
Chapter 209: The Bloody Banquet
Chapter 210: The Mountain
Chapter 211: Confrontation
Chapter 212: Maneuvering
Chapter 213: Counterattack
Chapter 214: Defeat
Chapter 215: Jon
Chapter 216: The Dragon Descends
Chapter 217: No, You Haven't Forgotten
Chapter 218: Rooting Out
Chapter 219: Jon Connington
Chapter 220: The Night of Blood
Chapter 221: Sudden Change!
Chapter 222: Every Mortal Must Die
Chapter 223: Empire
Chapter 224: Extraordinary Ability
Chapter 225: Transforming into Black Mist
Chapter 226: The Capture
Chapter 227: The Sea Lord's Plan
Chapter 228: The Faceless Man
Chapter 229: The Ranger
Chapter 230: The Haunted Forest
Chapter 231: Castle Black
Chapter 232: The Night's Watch Expedition
Chapter 233: The Princess of Dorne
Chapter 234: Aegon
Chapter 235: The Sand Snake Sisters
Chapter 236: The Date
Chapter 237: Prince Doran's Letter
Chapter 238: A Special Arrangement
Chapter 239: The Courtship
Chapter 240: Rumors
Chapter 241: Revenge
Chapter 242: Alliance
Chapter 243: Dragon Riding
Chapter 244: Homecoming

Chapter 245: The Lesson from the Elder Brother

Chapter 246: Rhaenys' Changes
Chapter 247: Request for Aid
Chapter 248: Reinforcements
Chapter 249: The Clouds of War
Chapter 250: The Golden Company
Chapter 251: Lovers
Chapter 252: The Deer Hunt
Chapter 253: Watching the Changes
Chapter 254: Power Vacuum
Chapter 255: The War is Coming
Chapter 256: Pre-War Meeting
Chapter 257: Pirates
Chapter 258: Facing Death Bravely
Chapter 259: Dragonfire
Chapter 260: Dragon Slayer
Chapter 261: Return
Chapter 262: Siege
Chapter 264: The Horn of Winter
Chapter 265: The Allied Army
Chapter 266: Rhaenys and Rhaegal
Chapter 267: The Chaos of Pentos

Chapter 268: Victory or Defeat Hangs in the Balance

Chapter 269: Fierce Battle!
Chapter 270: Reinforcements Arrive
Chapter 271: A Complete Victory

Chapter 272: The Khaleesi of the True Dragon Khal

Chapter 273: Submission
Chapter 274: The Future Choices
Chapter 275: Stalemate
Chapter 276: Retreat
Chapter 277: The Trap
Chapter 278: Reinforcements Enter the City
Chapter 279: The City Empties
Chapter 280: Expulsion
Chapter 281: Dismissal
Chapter 282: Two Months
Chapter 283: The Tragedy of Myr
Chapter 284: The Wall Collapses
Chapter 285: Building the Fleet
Chapter 286: The Human Alliance
Chapter 287: Coming of Age
Chapter 288: The Golden-Haired Infant
Chapter 289: Captured Alive
Chapter 290: Burned Alive!
Chapter 291: Absorption and Bestowal
Chapter 292: Infusion of the Black Mist
Chapter 293: Exploring the Valyrian Ruins
Chapter 294: The Wildling Menace
Chapter 295: Turmoil
Chapter 296: The Year 292 AC
Chapter 297: The Golden Company's Loyalty
Chapter 298: Killing a Crow
Chapter 299: Chapter 299: Experiment
Chapter 300: The Chosen One
Chapter 301: The Effect of the Black Fog
Chapter 302: Farewell
Chapter 303: The Unsullied Arrive
Chapter 304: Grey Worm
Chapter 305: Black Worm
Chapter 306: Two Pieces of News
Chapter 307: The Grey Fog Rises
Chapter 308: A New Journey
Chapter 309: Mia
Chapter 310: The Expedition
Chapter 311: The Triarch of Volantis
Chapter 312: Trials and Tribulations
Chapter 313: Entering the Smoking Sea
Chapter 314: The Killing Fog!
Chapter 315: Mutual Slaughter
Chapter 316: Miraculous Recovery
Chapter 317: The Current Situation in Pentos
Chapter 318: Conspiracy and Secret Talks
Chapter 319: The Arrival of the White Walkers
Chapter 320: The Age of Great Strife
Chapter 321: Khal Mengo
Chapter 322: Arrival at Valyria
Chapter 323: Building a Camp
Chapter 324: Monster Attack
Chapter 325: Exploration
Chapter 326: The Path of the Dragon
Chapter 327: Ambush
Chapter 328: Plague
Chapter 329: First Battle Victory
Chapter 330: Siege Begins
Chapter 331: Throwing the Spear
Chapter 332: The Assault of the White Walkers

Chapter 333: The Great Battle of Humans and Wights

Chapter 334: Chapter 334: The Nightmare Descends

Chapter 335: The Killing Fields
Chapter 336: The Defeat of the Allied Forces
Chapter 337: The Capital of Valyria
Chapter 338: A Life-Saving Favor
Chapter 339: Awakening
Chapter 340: The Soldiers of Valyria
Chapter 341: A Stone?
Chapter 342: Dragon Eggs
Chapter 343: Ancient Nobility
Chapter 344:
Chapter 345: Escape
Chapter 346: Above the Smoke Sea
Chapter 347: Battle in the Sky
Chapter 348: The Sea of Sighs
Chapter 349: The White Cloak Knight
Chapter 350: Halt the Arrest
Chapter 351: The Battle of Winterfell

Chapter 352: The Third Line of Defense of the Allied Forces

Chapter 353: The Great Human Migration
Chapter 354: Return
Chapter 355: The Situation
Chapter 356: Aftermath
Chapter 357: Dragon Hatching
Chapter 358: Female Dragon
Chapter 359: The Four Dragon Siblings
Chapter 360: Chapter 360: Naming
Chapter 361: Names of Ancient Gods
Chapter 362: The Cellar of Winterfell
Chapter 363: Terrifying Nightmare
Chapter 364: Escape
Chapter 365: Prince Doran's Plan
Chapter 366: The Iron Throne's Envoy
Chapter 367: Request for Aid
Chapter 368: Conditions
Chapter 369: Busy
Chapter 370: The Bracken Family
Chapter 371: The Duel
Chapter 372: Cersei's Sincerity
Chapter 373: Wights Rowing
Chapter 374: Blacktyde Island
Chapter 375: Asha
Chapter 376: Rescue of Blacktyde Island
Chapter 377: Euron's Submission
Chapter 378: Maester Marwyn
Chapter 379: Breath of the Demon
Chapter 380: Changing the Hand of the King
Chapter 381: Cersei's Plan
Chapter 382: Jon's Assassination
Chapter 383: The Defense Line of Karhold Bay
Chapter 384: The Attack on White Harbor
Chapter 385: Unbelievable News
Chapter 386: Secret Weapon
Chapter 387: Tyrion's Despair
Chapter 388: The Great Explosion
Chapter 389: Plan Failed
Chapter 390: Dragon's Roar Shakes the Heavens
Chapter 391: Divine Weapon Descends
Chapter 392: Facing the Night King
Chapter 393: The Retreat of the White Walkers
Chapter 394: Aftermath of the Battle
Chapter 395: The Kings' Conference
Chapter 396: Landing on Dragonstone
Chapter 397: Conquering Dragonstone
Chapter 398: Conquering Tidestone Isle
Chapter 399: Pregnancy
Chapter 400: The Braavos Snow Disaster
Chapter 401: The Giant King
Chapter 402: Reclaiming the Giants
Chapter 403: The Defense Line of the Twins
Chapter 404: Pre-Battle Meeting
Chapter 405: Assigning Duties
Chapter 406: Escape from Death

Chapter 407: The First Battle of the Allied Forces

Chapter 408: The Revelation of the Lord of Light

Chapter 409: The Perspective of the Gods
Chapter 410: Lack of Divine Power
Chapter 411: Wildfire Ships
Chapter 412: Magic Abounds

Chapter 413: Have You Ever Seen a Palm Strike Descend from the Heavens?

Chapter 414: Duel with the Night King
Chapter 415: Defeat at the Front
Chapter 416: The Unexpected Turn of Events

Chapter 417: The White Walker Well-Versed in Warfare

Chapter 418: Robert Takes an Arrow
Chapter 419: The Crown Shatters
Chapter 420: Winter's End
Chapter 421: Tywin's Maneuver

Chapter 422: Hard to Guard Against Hidden Arrows

Chapter 423: Excuse
Chapter 424: Tywin's Strategy
Chapter 425: The Spy
Chapter 426: The Price of Tyrion
Chapter 427: Rampage of the Iron Hooves
Chapter 428: Changing the Battle Plan
Chapter 429: The Siege of Riverrun
Chapter 430: The Sword of Change
Chapter 431: The Battle of Riverrun
Chapter 432: The Might of the Giants
Chapter 433: Ambush from Behind
Chapter 434: The End of the War
Chapter 435: Conspiracy
Chapter 436: Chaos in Riverrun

Chapter 437: Chapter437: The Death of Lord Tully

Chapter 438: The City of Submission
Chapter 439: Heading to King's Landing
Chapter 440: Besieging King's Landing
Chapter 441: Brothers Reunited
Chapter 442: Secret Talks in the Red Keep
Chapter 443: Ambush
Chapter 444: Ambush in the Rainy Night
Chapter 445: Unrest in King's Landing
Chapter 446: Victory Without Bloodshed
Chapter 447: Control of King's Landing
Chapter 448: Ascending the Iron Throne
Chapter 449: The Plot in Pentos
Chapter 450: Rebellion in Motion
Chapter 451: Closing the Net
Chapter 452: Attack on the Royal Forest
Chapter 453: Capturing the Young Dragons
Chapter 454: Wrath of the Dragon
Chapter 455: The Faceless Fall
Chapter 456: Storm in King's Landing
Chapter 457: The Fall of the Titan
Chapter 458: Night of Catastrophe
Chapter 459: Braavos' Hope
Chapter 460: The Underground Palace
Chapter 461: Awakening of the Wicked

Chapter 462: The Fall of the Sea Lord's Palace

Chapter 463: The Deposition of the Sea King
Chapter 464: Negotiation
Chapter 465: Terms of Negotiation
Chapter 466: Return to Pentos
Chapter 467: The Provincial Governor
Chapter 468: Just a Joke
Chapter 469: The Current Situation
Chapter 470: Volunteering for Battle
Chapter 471: The Three-Eyed Raven
Chapter 472: Dwelling in Darkness
Chapter 473: The Second Coronation
Chapter 474: The League of the Righteous
Chapter 475: Mind Control
Chapter 476: Jaime Lannister
Chapter 477: Joining the Faceless Men
Chapter 478: The Great Sept of Baelor
Chapter 479: Alms at the Sept
Chapter 480: Sansa
Chapter 481: The Wedding
Chapter 482: Dornish Army
Chapter 483: The Battle of Nightsong
Chapter 484: The Situation in the Stormlands
Chapter 485: A Letter from Viserys
Chapter 486: The Feud of Brothers
Chapter 487: Civil War in Storm's End
Chapter 488: Desperate Turnaround
Chapter 489: The Death of Renly Baratheon
Chapter 490: Unrest in the Vale
Chapter 491: Realization
Chapter 492: The Game of Racing Against Time
Chapter 493: Armies Face Off
Chapter 494: Retreat
Chapter 495: Foiled Counterattack
Chapter 496: Raid
Chapter 497: Fire at the Allied Camp
Chapter 498: Daenerys Targaryen
Chapter 499: Beyond The Wall
Chapter 500: Winterfell
Chapter 501: Beyond the Wall
Chapter 502: Rescue of the Ancient Tree
Chapter 503: Children of the Forest
Chapter 504: The Three-Eyed Raven

Chapter 505: The Secret of the Three-Eyed Raven

Chapter 506: Negotiations
Chapter 507: Trap
Chapter 508: Traveling to the Past
Chapter 509: Consuming the Old Gods
Chapter 510: The Last Greenseer
Chapter 511: The Bottomless Pit
Chapter 512: The Ancient War
Chapter 513: Return to King's Landing

Chapter 514: The Council Meeting in Front of the King

Chapter 515: Midnight Visit
Chapter 516: Night Talk
Chapter 517: Cersei's Determination
Chapter 518: The Second Conquest War
Chapter 519: First Battle
Chapter 520: Sisters of Darkness
Chapter 521: Rainy Night
Chapter 522: The War Begins
Chapter 523: The Final Storm
Chapter 524: War Elephants
Chapter 525: Escape
Chapter 526: Escape to Storm's End
Chapter 527: The Death of Stannis
Chapter 528: Balon Swann
Chapter 529: Trial by Combat
Chapter 530: "The Surrender of Storm's End"
Chapter 531: The Siege of Starfall
Chapter 532: The Siege of Starpike Castle

Chapter 533: The Battle of the Lame - Battle for Cripple's Keep

Chapter 534: Reinforcements Arrive
Chapter 535: Slaughter
Chapter 536: Duel
Chapter 537: The Executioner's Justice

Chapter 538: Chapter 538 - Victory Celebration

Chapter 539: "Bend the Knee"

Chapter 540: Chapter 540 - The Conquest of Highgarden

Chapter 541: Tearing Up the Surrender Letter
Chapter 542: Margaery Tyrell
Chapter 543: The Siege Begins
Chapter 544: Assault on Oldtown
Chapter 545: The Fall of Oldtown
Chapter 546: The Fall of the Sept
Chapter 547: The Tower of the Old Town
Chapter 548: Chapter 548 – The Tax Collector
Chapter 549: Return of the Army
Chapter 550: Dissolution of the Citadel
Chapter 551: Iron Islands
Chapter 552: The Fall of the City
Chapter 553: Capturing Tywin Alive

Chapter 554: The Curse Affects Nine Generations

Chapter 555: Prince Aegon
Chapter 556: East Factory, West Factory
Chapter 557: Chapter 557
Chapter 558: Operation Black Sweep
Chapter 559: Chapter 559 - Miracle
Chapter 560: The Ambush
Chapter 561: The Death of the High Sparrow
Chapter 562: Escalating Tensions
Chapter 563: Strife within The Vale

Chapter 564: The Mantis Stalks the Cicada, Unaware of the Oriole Behind

Chapter 565: The Arrival
Chapter 566: The Lord of the Vale
Chapter 567: Back from the Brink of Death
Chapter 568: A Life Saved, A Debt Owed
Chapter 569: Greywater Watch
Chapter 570: Howland Reed
Chapter 571: The Magic of the Crannogmen
Chapter 572: The Power of Faith
Chapter 573: The Blood Play Troupe
Chapter 574: Rescuing the Villagers
Chapter 575: Asha Greyjoy
Chapter 576: Qyburn
Chapter 577: Gathering at King's Landing
Chapter 578: The Plague

Chapter 579: The Master of Craftsmanship and The Master of Agriculture

Chapter 580: Brought to Court
Chapter 581: The Grand Ennoblement Ceremony
Chapter 582: A Step Back Opens Up the World
Chapter 583: The Royal Garden
Chapter 584: A Special Prisoner
Chapter 585: Trial by Combat
Chapter 586: Duel
Chapter 587: The Bone Mountains
Chapter 588: Archmaester Pycelle
Chapter 589: Banished to the Frontier
Chapter 590: The Situation
Chapter 591: Eddard Stark
Chapter 592: Robb's Ennoblement
Chapter 593: The Great Steward of the North
Chapter 594: Customs Headquarters
Chapter 595: Jaime
Chapter 596: Refusal
Chapter 597: The Trial of Tywin
Chapter 598: Execution
Chapter 599: Tears
Chapter 600: The Day of the Trial
Chapter 601: Public Resentment Boiling Over
Chapter 602: The Final Witness
Chapter 603: Unveiling Secrets
Chapter 604: Joffrey Waters
Chapter 605: In the Name of the King!
Chapter 606: Duel
Chapter 607: Secrets
Chapter 608: The Death of Robert
Chapter 609: A New Expedition
Chapter 610: The Rebellion of Stonehelm
Chapter 611: Golden Flames
Chapter 612: The Black God Cult
Chapter 613: Dragon Dreams and Menarche
Chapter 614: City Expansion
Chapter 615: The Hunt
Chapter 616: The Strife of the Court
Chapter 617: Inspecting the Academy
Chapter 618: Military Academy
Chapter 619: Learning Strong Nation
Chapter 620: Economic Reform
Chapter 621: Marching to Naath Island
Chapter 622: Confrontation
Chapter 623: Asha
Chapter 624: Leaving the Red Keep
Chapter 625: The North
Chapter 626: Direwolf Skull in the Ice Plains

Chapter 627: The Unpredictability of Human Hearts

Chapter 628: Resolve
Chapter 629: The Idol
Chapter 630: Fusion
Chapter 631: A Miracle
Chapter 632: Miraxis
Chapter 633: Flames of Faith
Chapter 634: Migration of Populace
Chapter 635: The Conflict in Dorne
Chapter 636: Road to Survival
Chapter 637: Escalation of Conflict
Chapter 638: Border Crisis
Chapter 639: Name Day
Chapter 640: The Final Path
Chapter 641: The World Beneath
Chapter 642: The Crypts of Winterfell
Chapter 643: Venturing Beyond The Wall Alone
Chapter 644: The Prince's Pass
Chapter 645: Internal Strife
Chapter 646: Crossing the Mountain Range
Chapter 647: Surprise Attack
Chapter 648: Hijacking the Path
Chapter 649: Chapter 649 - The Bank
Chapter 650: Plea for Mercy

Chapter 651: UPDATED Chapter 651: Breaching Prince's Pass

Chapter 652: Visiting Myr
Chapter 653: The Three Governors
Chapter 654: Nocturnal Visit
Chapter 655: Imperial Support
Chapter 656: Seeking Approval
Chapter 657: Tacit Approval
Chapter 658: Tracking the White Walkers
Chapter 659: The Death of Ban Yang
Chapter 660: The Count of Harrenhal
Chapter 661: The Heir of Valyria
Chapter 662: The Valyrian Emperor
Chapter 663: Determination to Rebuild
Chapter 664: The Battle of Skyreach City
Chapter 665: The Emperor's Southern Tour
Chapter 666: Negotiations
Chapter 667: The Emissary of Decapitation
Chapter 668: Attack of the Dragon
Chapter 669: The Fall of the City
Chapter 670: Jon's Assassination
Chapter 671: Death
Chapter 672: Jon's Soul
Chapter 673: Raven to Sunspear
Chapter 674: Ambushed
Chapter 675: Escape
Chapter 676: A Helping Hand
Chapter 677: Victarion
Chapter 678: Control of the Port
Chapter 679: The Myrish Affair
Chapter 680: The Direwolf of the Tundra

Chapter 681: UPDATED Chapter 681: White Walker Benjen

Chapter 682: The Land of Eternal Winter
Chapter 683: Soul Connection
Chapter 684: Two Choices
Chapter 685: The Funeral
Chapter 686: The Next Hand
Chapter 687: UPDATED Chapter 687: Varys

Chapter 688: UPDATED Chapter 688: The Tax Farming System

Chapter 689: UPDATED Chapter 689: The Bank

Chapter 690: The New Coin

Chapter 691: Updated Chapter 691: The Royal Mint

Chapter 692: Potential Stock
Chapter 693: The Council of Lys
Chapter 694: Henvry Hightower
Chapter 695: Blockade
Chapter 696: Muddying the Waters
Chapter 697: Clouds of Civil War
Chapter 698: Icy Altar
Chapter 699: Legend and Tales

Chapter 700: Updated Chapter 700: The Ice Dragon

Chapter 701: Assassination
Chapter 702: Lyanna
Chapter 703: The Black Necklace
Chapter 704: Questioning
Chapter 705: The Oily Black Stone
Chapter 706: Sea Monster
Chapter 707: Failed Eastern Expansion
Chapter 708: Building the Shrine
Chapter 709: Battle of Myths
Chapter 710: The Man on the Wooden Ship
Chapter 711: The Grey Sea King
Chapter 712: The Kiss
Chapter 713: Rain
Chapter 714: The Dornish Delegation
Chapter 715: Prince Doran
Chapter 716: Conflict
Chapter 717: The Red Dragon
Chapter 718: The High Priest
Chapter 719: Darkness and Destruction
Chapter 720: The Deep Diver
Chapter 721: Gillian Lannister
Chapter 722: Monster Attack
Chapter 723: Fleeing
Chapter 724: The Mystery of the Sea Creature
Chapter 725: Hooked
Chapter 726: Sacrifice
Chapter 727: The Decisive Civil War
Chapter 728: The Coup
Chapter 729: Prince Rys

Chapter 730: The Submission of the Three Daughters Kingdom

Chapter 731: Capturing the Monster
Chapter 732: Sacrifice
Chapter 733: The Summer Sea
Chapter 734: Tribal Chieftain
Chapter 735: Golden Heartwood Bow
Chapter 736: The Golden Peninsula
Chapter 737: The Curse of Valyria
Chapter 738: The Lizard Head Outpost
Chapter 739: The Brotherhood of Bones
Chapter 740: The Pirate King
Chapter 741: Difficult Choices
Chapter 742: Pregnant Again
Chapter 743: Mass Relocation
Chapter 744: The Illusory Dawn

Chapter 745: The Seventh Year of the New Calendar

Chapter 746: Suspicion
Chapter 747: A Distant Tale
Chapter 748: The Queen of the Summer Isles
Chapter 749: The Vassal Principality
Chapter 750: The Monster
Chapter 751: Chapter 751 The Eastern World
Chapter 752: Awakening
Chapter 753: Qyburn
Chapter 754: Giant Prince
Chapter 755: Helaeros Targaryen
Chapter 756: The Black Dread
Chapter 757: Novos
Chapter 758: Qohor
Chapter 759: Gateway to Hell
Chapter 760: The High Septon
Chapter 761: Brother Aegon
Chapter 762: Jeyne
Chapter 763: Changes in the Small Council
Chapter 764: Diana
Chapter 765: Miscarriage
Chapter 766: Chestnut Hair and Purple Eyes
Chapter 767: Daenerys
Chapter 768: Celestial Anomalies
Chapter 769: The Lover
Chapter 770: Acting Master of Coin
Chapter 771: Quarrel
Chapter 772: Solar Eclipse
Chapter 773: The Long Night Descends
Chapter 774: The Siege of King's Landing
Chapter 775: The Tale of the Long Night
Chapter 776: Ib
Chapter 777: The Fall
Chapter 778: The Golden Empire
Chapter 779: The Five Forts
Chapter 780: Strike at the Heart
Chapter 781: The Dothraki Invasion
Chapter 782: Envoy to Valyria
Chapter 783: Countermeasures
Chapter 784: The Far North
Chapter 785: Disaster Strikes
Chapter 786: Seeking Help
Chapter 787: The Council of Humanity
Chapter 788: Resolving the Heartache
Chapter 789: Entering the Cave
Chapter 790: Confession
Chapter 791: Magical Potions
Chapter 792: Man-Made Monster
Chapter 793: Method to Repair the Wall
Chapter 794: Group Arrival
Chapter 795: The Central Region Falls
Chapter 796: Remarriage
Chapter 797: The Governor's Wife
Chapter 798: Repairing the Wall
Chapter 799: Leading Humanity
Chapter 800: Forging the Dragon Spear