Count Quentyn stood on a pair of skis, gripping the ropes tied to a saddle as a warhorse dragged him forward. He was moving at roughly the speed of a galloping horse, barely keeping up with the sled convoy.
When the convoy finally stopped, he saw the terrifying army of wights. They marched across the beach, climbed over jagged reefs, and stretched endlessly eastward in a dense, boundless mass.
If not for the Dragon Queen and the Western volunteer soldiers around her remaining calm, Count Quentyn would have already turned his horse around and fled.
Then he saw the Dragon Queen, who had been smiling as she approached the knights of Harrenhal, suddenly change expression.
"Damn it, we've been played by the Others," she said grimly.
"What?" Count Quentyn asked in confusion.
"What's going on?" the dwarf asked as well, his chest emblazoned with both a red dragon and a golden lion.
Count Quentyn and the Harrenhal knights behind him all gave the now surprisingly handsome dwarf strange looks.
"Caw, caw, caw—" A large red-eyed raven perched on the mast cried out, "A massive number of wights are advancing along the Coastal Road, entering the territories of Cornfield Town and Crakehall.
"The wight army's ultimate goal is to leave the Westerlands and enter the more densely populated Reach.
"The Others have figured out our movement patterns and are forcing us into a choice: defend Harrenhal in the north or the Reach in the south."
"You must be the Three-Eyed Raven, my lord?" Count Quentyn examined the great raven in astonishment. After receiving Bran's nod, he frowned and said, "Are the Others really this intelligent? They can even use strategy now?"
The Great Bear shook his head. "The Others were once human, so of course they possess intelligence. This isn't even a particularly brilliant strategy. In fact, it's an open scheme. We've known about it for some time.
"It's just that after many discussions, we still haven't found a good solution."
"It's not that there's no solution. We just need another powerful transcendent as a reserve force." At this point, Tyrion sighed helplessly. "Unfortunately, Westeros is divided, and the city-states across the Narrow Sea are merely watching from the sidelines.
"If Stannis and his red-robed priests could cooperate, and if the gods and mages of the neighboring Free Cities were willing to join the united front against the wights, it would be easy to completely seal off the Westerlands. After all, there are only three exits."
"Isn't Stannis currently calling on the Free Cities to participate in the battle for King's Landing? What's the progress?" Count Quentyn asked.
As Tyrion donned his armor with the help of his attendants, he replied, "No idea. King's Landing has been in contact with Braavos, but they haven't announced the negotiation results. Perhaps the outcome isn't very encouraging."
Seeing that the soldiers had nearly finished putting on their armor and picking up their weapons, Daenerys said, "Prepare for battle."
"Abandon Crakehall?" Count Quentyn asked in surprise.
Tyrion shook his head. "Harrenhal is over a thousand kilometers from Crakehall, and these wights are already advancing along the coast into the Riverlands. We can only resolve this battle quickly, then the Queen will go alone to reinforce the Coastal Road."
"Bran, you're no longer needed here. Go to Crakehall and keep an eye on the main force of the wights." After saying this, Daenerys leapt into the sky.
"Caw, caw—" The great raven did not move, but the divine light in its eyes dimmed slightly.
Bran's soul had already completely shifted thousands of kilometers away.
There was little to say about the battle. Watching the tornado that pierced heaven and earth, watching tens of thousands of wights swept into it like fallen leaves, watching severed limbs rain down from the sky, and watching the volunteer army charge forward with high morale behind the storm, Count Quentyn and his knights knelt without hesitation.
They knelt in submission.
This kind of battle was simply too satisfying.
Moreover, they were fighting for the Westerlands, for the Seven Kingdoms, for humanity itself. Such a battle was far more honorable than fighting over the Iron Throne.
"Your Majesty, I am willing to lead the knights of Harrenhal to join your volunteer army," Count Quentyn said, kneeling on one knee in a gesture of loyalty as the willow-leaf sword shook off its blood, fell from the sky, and slid neatly into the sheath on the black dragon's back. The Dragon Queen landed on her saddle.
"Discuss it with Tyrion. I need to go to Crakehall now."
With that, the black dragon raised its head and spat out a brilliant crimson mosaic-like fireball. A spatial gate opened instantly, and the dragon, carrying the Dragon Queen, leapt through it and vanished from sight.
In truth, they had not left. They were directly above everyone's heads, more than ten kilometers in the sky.
This was Daenerys' latest flight method: multi-stage free-fall acceleration.
At over ten kilometers high, the black dragon began flying southward at a downward angle.
It flapped its wings while gravity accelerated it, rapidly increasing its speed.
At five thousand meters, it spat out another spatial gate and instantly returned to ten thousand meters, continuing the free-fall acceleration.
After repeating this several times, the black dragon broke the sound barrier.
Of course, under normal conditions, its bones and tendons could not withstand supersonic flight. In fact, even before breaking the sound barrier, it could no longer flap its wings and could only glide forward, barely able to control its direction.
At that moment, the Goddess of Wind took the stage.
A domain of wind enveloped the dragon. Dozens of wind spirits emerged, clinging like ribbons to its wings, tail, claws, chest, and the spines along its back—every part that clashed violently with the air was adorned with long cyan streamers.
The black dragon could flap its wings again and freely control its direction.
From afar, the ferocious dragon was wrapped in a faint blue glow, trailing dozens of flowing wind ribbons, mysterious and breathtakingly beautiful.
From time to time, pink spatial gates flickered. The dragon would vanish, then reappear high in the sky, continuing its acceleration.
Newton would have wept himself unconscious upon the Iron Throne.
This was magic, something that effortlessly broke the laws of physics.
"You killed my aunt," Tyrion said coldly to Arya.
The Dragon Queen had not returned by dinner time, so the volunteer army set up camp behind a towering seaside cliff.
When traveling from north to south, even without the Dragon Queen's wind magic, the volunteers could harness the northern winds to drive their sled buses toward Casterly Rock.
But this time, among the hundred thousand wights slain by the sea were thousands of beast corpses. These had been gifted by the Dragon Queen to Casterly Rock.
At the moment, the men, women, and children of Casterly Rock were busy hauling the meat away on sleds, and the volunteers had to guard them.
That was when the dwarf remembered the most notorious villain, Blood Demon Arya, who had not eaten or drunk anything for an entire day.
He brought her food and water and even unlocked her shackles.
"Which aunt are you talking about? I've killed too many people to remember," Arya said calmly, sitting across from the dwarf as she dipped bread into meat broth and spoke casually.
"Genna, a kind and innocent woman," Tyrion said, angered by her attitude.
"I've killed many people, but none of them were innocent. If I remember correctly, Genna Lannister was the Countess of Riverrun. That status itself is original sin," Arya muttered with her mouth full.
"The elderly, the weak, women, and children didn't participate in the struggle between lions and wolves. They are not guilty," Tyrion said.
"Wasn't my mother a woman? Wasn't I just a girl? Don't demand of others what you can't do yourself," Arya mocked.
"You killed more than eight hundred people at Casterly Rock, and you feel no remorse?" Tyrion asked in disbelief.
"I do regret it." Arya swallowed a piece of oddly flavored red meat, frowned slightly, and sighed. "I should have stayed one more night. If the corpses had risen as wights, I would have noticed."
"Out of those eight hundred, at least half were innocent," Tyrion said coldly.
"I'll say it again. None of the people I killed were innocent." Arya slammed down her fork with a bang, her gaze turning icy as she stared at the dwarf. "When Duke Tywin and Walder Frey orchestrated the Red Wedding, any revenge against the Lannisters and the Freys became justice. It is righteous vengeance!"
Tyrion frowned. "The Red Wedding was a tragedy. Jaime and I have never denied that, and we are willing to represent House Lannister and accept a fair, just, and public trial.
"I thought our two houses had already reached an understanding on this matter."
"Where is this trial?" Arya sneered.
"Haven't you heard of the Dragon Queen's Grand Council? Casterly Rock isn't going anywhere. As long as the Lannisters don't all die out, someone will attend the final trial," Tyrion said seriously.
"The Dragon Queen also judged Walder Frey. Did he listen?"
"If he didn't, we will."
Arya let out a cold laugh. "If House Stark demands Cersei's life, will you obey?"
"What does the Red Wedding have to do with Cersei?" Tyrion froze.
"The sins of the Lannisters are too many. So many that even you can't remember them all," Arya said darkly. "You may forget, but I never will. I will never forget how my father died, nor how Cersei desecrated my brother's corpse."
Tyrion found himself at a loss for words.
Cersei had nothing to do with the Red Wedding, but she did bear direct responsibility for Ned's death and Robb's fate.
"Even so, you shouldn't have killed so many people."
"How imposing the Lannisters are. You wiped out House Tarbeck, House Reyne of Castamere, House Targaryen, House Darry, House Stark. Now that it's your turn, you start complaining?"
Tyrion's expression dimmed for a moment before he glared. "Who taught you to say that?"
Arya hesitated briefly, then shook her head. "No one needed to teach me. Everyone knows what the Lannisters have done."
Tyrion sneered. "Aside from the Dragon Queen, who even cares about a small place like Darry? So you shouldn't be saying this to me. Save it for the final trial and complain to the Dragon Queen.
"There's an eighty percent chance she'll think you did well, that you did brilliantly, and that the Lannisters deserved to be wiped out."
A trace of discomfort flickered across Arya's face, but she stubbornly replied, "Am I wrong?"
Tyrion sighed and shook his head, self-mocking. "The terrifying part is that everything you said is true. The Lannisters are steeped in sin. At least, that's how the Dragon Queen sees it."
"After the trial, perhaps the singers will compose a song for you, 'The Tide of Casterly Rock,' just like 'The Rains of Castamere,' praising the great revenge of House Stark."
A faint smile appeared on Arya's face, and her eyes showed a hint of longing and anticipation.
The dwarf smiled strangely and continued, "You will become the greatest Faceless One in history, renowned across the world, sung about by bards everywhere."
Arya's face turned cold.
(P.S. Casterly Rock lies by the sea. Whenever the tide rises, thunderous sounds echo from beneath the ground.)
(End of chapter)
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