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On the battlefield field before Viserysburg, the soldiers of Andalusia formed a magnificent circle.
At the core of the circle was a high-piled bonfire, letting the flames burn the corpses of dead men and horses at will.
In the middle, the surrendering captives were throwing large armfuls of their dead companions' bodies into the fire to clear the battlefield; it was mainly the Screamers who were acting.
The dead were of various races, mostly dothraki and Tyroshi, but there were also some Ibmen and others who served the mercenary companies.
Viserys even set up a disciplinary corps for these prisoners, with the first batch of Screamers who had surrendered to him participating in controlling the situation.
The dothraki had their horses and weapons confiscated and cut off their braids to show submission.
The casualties of the Tyroshi Alliance Army were even more tragic than those of the dothraki; they had fewer horses, and their armored infantry lost their strength after running for only a short while.
Consequently, these poor souls were obliterated time and again in the meat grinder of war.
the tragedy of the war far exceeded anything before, but the fruits of victory were equally sweet.
Khal Drogo!
Khal Jommo!
The Commander-in-Chief of the Tyroshi Alliance Army, the Archon's unlucky brother!
Bloodbeard, the Captain of the Company of the Cat.
Several captains of the Stormcrows.
On the battlefield, there was a row of spears hanging with human heads. These were the enemies of higher status, led by the heads of Bloodbeard and the Khas of Drogo and Khal Jommo; there were heads from the Company of the Cat, Brave Companions, and Stormcrows.
Power is at the heights, power is at the peak.
Only the victor can enjoy the sweetness of power.
On the fields of Andalusia, the fire crackled and danced as corpses were thrown into the flames piled with firewood.
The surging flames were like fire snakes dancing, sometimes twisting, sometimes chasing each other, blooming in brilliant colors against the night sky.
Viserys Targaryen drew the True Dragon Sword and planted it in the ground. The purple blade reflected the firelight, mirroring a face that was exceptionally handsome yet resolute.
From this moment on, Viserys's reputation would be even more prominent across the Eastern and Western continents: the True Dragon, Viserys the King-Slayer.
The wind caused Viserys's black robe to snap loudly, the red dragon emblem upon it appearing lifelike.
Viserys changed into a half-black, half-red velvet tunic, finally having removed his armor.
The dragon eggs and the dragon nest were also by Viserys's side—those magnificent dragon eggs.
Sunfyre was beside the bonfire, swallowing large mouthfuls of dead warhorse carcasses, breathing fire while tearing into them.
This meal was truly a feast for him.
In extreme circumstances, magic dragons also eat humans; perhaps to them, humans and horses aren't much different.
Everyone else—the nobles of Andalusia, the envoys from Norvos and Qohor, the commanders of the Golden Company and the Windblown Company—stood motionless behind the King, like silent statues.
After defeating the allied forces of Drogo and Tyrosh, Viserys's prestige was at its zenith, and no one dared to challenge his edge.
Viserys had no wildfire left now; otherwise, he could have used wildfire to set up a crematorium.
Viserys had another specially prepared small bonfire, where the bodies of Khal Drogo, Khal Jommo, Khal Jommo's pregnant wife, and the murdered witch were placed.
"Why kill them?" Viserys asked.
"Khal Jommo advised Khal Drogo to retreat, so Khal Drogo killed him. As for his wife, Khal Drogo killed her as well. That witch once told the Khal we would gain a great victory, but when the Stallion of Victory did not come, the angry Screamers killed her," a Dothraki prisoner answered respectfully.
Viserys looked at the dead bodies placed on the bonfire; it was indeed consistent with the brutal ways of the Dothraki.
The Dothraki were savage and fearless of death; a desperate Khal Drogo had ultimately killed his ally and the man's wife.
Usually, if a Khal dies, his Khaleesi is taken to Vaes Dothrak.
But this was not absolute.
During the Century of Blood, Khal Dhako was scattered in battle by Khal Temo's khalasar, and he himself was captured by the young Khal Temo.
Khal Temo first burned Dhako's wives and children alive, then cut off Dhako's limbs and genitals, roasted them in front of him, and then burned him to death.
This Temo was the very Khal who later died beneath the walls of Qohor, making the Unsullied famous.
The envoys from Norvos and Qohor held their breath, feeling great terror; they smelled the thick scent of death and fire in the air.
Norvos had sent two hundred axemen, and Qohor had sent a thousand Unsullied to assist.
These people had moved sluggishly, their intention being to leave early if the war situation turned unfavorable, which is why they arrived so late.
No one had told them that Andalusia had a dragon; if they had known about such a divine intervention, they would have certainly rushed to help earlier.
But now, they could only act timidly.
"Your Majesty, we intended to come to Andalusia's aid. But the journey was truly long," the Viceroy of Qohor said, wiping a bead of sweat from his face.
"You are just cowards and weaklings," Argos said disdainfully.
The warriors laughed along, and the Qohorik and Norvosi dared not say more.
The old powers had fallen; the once-invincible Khal Drogo was now a pile of remains, and the true power belonged to the Dragon King of the Andals, Viserys.
"The criminals of the Brave Companions have been brought forward, Your Majesty," Count Donal said.
The few remaining prisoners of the Brave Companions were pushed forward, bound tightly; this was also something Viserys had specifically requested.
There was the soot-faced Vargo Hoat, the Goat; the Septon Utt, who liked little boys; Shagwell the Fool, and others.
Viserys looked at his prisoners. The Brave Companions could be called a base camp for scum; one by one, there wasn't a normal person among them.
the Goat and the others had already seen the heads on those spears, many of whom were acquaintances of the Goat.
Death seemed to have opened its wide maw, waiting for the Goat and his ilk.
"Sp... spare me, Your Majesty... it was all... all that blue-haired one's idea," the Goat pleaded. It was too pathetic; his zebra had been shot dead, and he couldn't escape, being caught by the Andalusians.
When Vargo fled, he was still wearing that dark iron helmet, the one shaped like a goat's head; he was quite attached to it.
The blue-haired person he spoke of was Daario, the Tyroshi who had already been burned to death.
"You mistreated prisoners," Viserys said. "I heard you like creating cripples the most..."
This was what angered Viserys the most. On the battlefield of Andalusia, the Brave Companions would take cruel revenge after catching soldiers who were separated from their units.
"Mercy... I... I can... serve Your Majesty," the Goat wailed.
"Are there any maesters or doctors in your company?" Viserys asked.
"Maesters? Doctors? We only have a Septon...?" the Goat shook his head in confusion, his spit flying as he spoke unclearly; his current pitiful appearance truly resembled a goat.
Viserys looked at the Goat; it seemed that at this point, Qyburn had not yet joined this group.
There was no need for these Brave Companions to stay alive; they were just a waste of food.
"Fine, how can someone like you be saved?"
Viserys raised his hand, and a burly Andalusian warrior pressed the Goat's head onto a large wooden block.
"In the name of Viserys III of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the first men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, King of the Andals, I hereby sentence you to death."
Viserys drew the True Dragon Sword; no weapon in the world was sharper than this.
The blade spun, and blood spilled upon the earth. The grass that had been trampled many times was now showered with blood once more, blood as red as Summerwine.
"Next!" Viserys said.
The next person to be executed was the demon Septon Utt who liked boys; he would always kill the boys after he got them.
During his deeds, he would weep and beg for forgiveness, often asking other members of the Brave Companions to whip and torture him. Although they were happy to oblige, they found it ridiculous.
"I am a weak reed. I pray to the Warrior, asking him for strength, but the gods have made my heart weak.
Have pity on this weak man. Those boys, lovely boys—I didn't want to hurt them at all—" The Septon began to cry, not for the boys, but for his own death.
Viserys's sword fell, and the Septon's head rolled across the ground like a ball.
Viserys was fast; these people from the Brave Companions were merely appetizers before the main course.
Organizations as scummy as the Brave Companions were rare. Viserys felt his attributes slowly rising.
AI Model: gemini-2.5-flash
"Clean up the scene."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Donal bowed, muttering that the corpses of these scoundrels deserved nothing more than to be burned.
But their heads could still be tarred and hoisted on spears as propaganda for a victorious war.
The Viceroy of Qohor wiped the sweat from his face. A battlefield was a battlefield, filled with the strong scent of blood and fire, like several layers of purgatory.
Bloodthirsty warriors, terrifying magic dragons.
What kind of era was this?
After the Century of Blood, it seemed another Century of Blood was about to begin.
Khal Drogo was dead, and Viserys, who emerged victorious from a cruel world, was even more terrifying and powerful.
The few remaining commanders of the Tyroshi Alliance Army were also brought over, their faces pale as they watched the Brave Companions being cut down one by one before them.
"Demons!"
"Demons!" a mentally broken Tyroshi man wailed. "The three-headed god will punish you."
The guarding Andalos warrior looked at the Tyroshi captive with displeasure, striking the Tyroshi man's ribs fiercely with his sword.
The Tyroshi man wailed, spitting blood.
"Take them all away," Viserys said. These Tyroshi captives were still worth something; what he lacked now were ships.
"Your Majesty!" Dick Crabb arrived respectfully, with two stretcher-borne corpses behind him: the bodies of Griffin and Bron.
Viserys pulled back the red cloth, revealing two faces, one old and one young.
The one with red hair and a red beard was Jon Griffin, but his long exile had weathered his appearance.
The younger, handsome boy was Young Griffin, also known as Young Aegon.
The Red Viper secretly glanced at the boy—silver hair, indigo eyes—and how was there also a dragon?
He was filled with doubt but said nothing more.
The Red Viper knew Griffin; he had been one of the most arrogant and talented among the self-important and passionate young nobles around Rhaegar back then.
He never expected that he would truly die now.
It seemed these two had also tried to steal Viserys's horn.
"Throw them on as well," Viserys commanded.
"Yes, Your Majesty." Krell threw the two bodies next to the Khal's corpses, onto the pyre.
"Kneel!" the Andalos soldiers commanded the Golden Company soldiers who had been tied together. Seeing the blood flowing on the ground, these Golden Company soldiers could only lower their heads helplessly.
The entire Golden Company was now caught in a crab's claw, with no possibility of fighting back.
These men were supposed to be guards, yet they allowed Griffin and Young Aegon to enter the King's tent.
"You know these two, Ser Mace," Viserys said calmly.
"Yes," Mace stepped forward. "Since Jon and Young Griffin are dead, there's no need for me to live alone..."
The Golden Company officers exchanged glances; they had not known about this highly secret agreement. Those who were familiar only knew of a Griffin who had once stolen something, then left and drank himself to death.
"Did you have to enter that tent?" Viserys asked.
"This was the last chance," Mace said calmly. "Griffin and the boy had long had enough of waiting, endless waiting. As for me, I ultimately chose my friends. Besides, I don't have many years left to live."
"You know the final truth, don't you, Mace?" Viserys looked at Mace. "Your secret with the fat man and The Spider."
Mace's expression remained unchanged. He hadn't expected Viserys to know so much about their affairs: "The secret agreement was between me, Varys, and Illyrio. We were acquainted before Griffin arrived. From beginning to end, only Griffin was deceived by us. He thought the boy was Aegon; in reality, the boy was the hope of Blackfyre."
Viserys's pale purple eyes flickered as he looked at Myles Toyne.
This was still a multi-layered biscuit structure: the fat man, the black heart, and The Spider were on the first layer; Griffin was on the second layer.
From beginning to end, Blackheart Toyne was indeed Griffin's friend, but he was more of an old friend to the eunuch and the fat man; he was also a friend of Blackfyre.
"Why?" Viserys couldn't help but ask the core question. "You confessed to me; you could have lived."
Mace's lips twitched: "It seems I can only repeat the old story. Back then, the Toyne family suffered a great calamity. If not for Bittersteel's secret help, our family would have been utterly wiped out. I swore long ago that I would only fight for the Blackfyre cause..."
Back then, Ser Terrence Toyne had an affair with Aegon IV's seventh mistress, Bethany Bracken, and was caught in the act by the King.
Before Bethany died, Aegon IV forced her to watch Ser Terrence being dismembered and executed. Bethany's father was also implicated and executed.
Later, Ser Terrence's brothers, seeking revenge for their brother, planned to assassinate Aegon IV. But Prince Aemon the Dragonknight sacrificed himself to protect the King.
Afterward, the two Toyne brothers were executed for treason, and the entire family suffered a storm of retaliation.
"The identity of this boy?" Viserys asked.
"Illyrio's child. The fat man's wife is a descendant of Brightflame and Blackfyre. Varys and that daughter are siblings," Mace said calmly. "That's why I wanted to help them. As for Griffin, I thought there would be no harm in giving my friend some hope."
Viserys exhaled, surprised that the descendants of Brightflame and Blackfyre could also get entangled.
It seemed quite normal; they were all outcasts.
"Alright, the last Blackfyre is gone. You choose?"
"Traitors have only one path to death." Mace's face twitched. "But this entire secret is known to no one else but me. None of my officers know."
"Your Majesty, please spare Mace."
"Please spare him."
Viserys looked at the Golden Company officers pleading for mercy. Mace himself wanted to die...
"Light it," Viserys said. Grease was applied to the flames, followed by the burning of the corpses.
A wave of heat began to rise, followed by more and more flames.
What a fire! The flames devoured the human bodies, the smell of roasting human flesh, and the wood began to crackle little by little.
"May the gods protect you, King Viserys, as if you are the very destiny and essence. Perhaps you are the master of this era, not us. Since Griffin and our Blackfyre hope are dead, there is no need for me to live. Your Majesty, please lead these children, the homeless, and the exiles."
"I'm sorry, brothers, don't plead for me anymore. The future path is yours... Because of my selfishness, I have once again drawn you into this vortex," Mace said wearily. The Golden Company officers were trembling; at this moment, they were in trouble, unable to escape.
"Where will you go?" Viserys looked at the Golden Company officers, who, in their bewilderment, felt a world of conspiracy turning upside down.
"A dragon is a dragon, and now His Majesty Viserys is the one and only Dragon King," Harry immediately knelt down, his legs trembling uncontrollably.
"Will you pledge allegiance to me?" Viserys asked.
"We will, Your Majesty!"
The Golden Company officers knelt haphazardly on the ground.
"You may go," Viserys told Mace. "You can live, but leave the army. Don't forget these people are for you." Viserys motioned for Mace to leave.
Myles Toyne, however, gave a bitter smile, looking at the blazing flames and recalling Griffin's face and smile. "Griffin, since I deceived you, let me repay you with my life."
Mace suddenly ran and then leaped into the flames, melting together with the bodies of Young Aegon and Jon Clinton.
They were together forever.
Viserys watched as the flames engulfed everyone, like a roaring beast.
Drogo, Khal Jommo, the Khal's pregnant wife, the witch, Griffin, Young Aegon, Blackheart Toyne.
In the low eastern sky, a red comet began to appear, like a burning longsword, a weeping star.