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There was nothing remarkable in the tent; only the Dragon Horn was most precious.
Jon Clinton held the horn firmly with both hands and began to blow. The horn was so massive that he could not let the prince take such a risk.
The Griffin had hesitated for a fleeting moment, his thoughts spinning.
To step forward, or to step back.
But this was their best chance—the Andalos, the Golden Company, the Dothraki—if they lost this opportunity, there would never be another.
Now that Viserys, struck by a volley of arrows, was in an unknown state of life or death, there would never be a better chance than this.
With a dragon, a golden dragon, who else would question the prince's identity?
Jon made up his mind; he had long intended to die alongside Rhaegar, and now he had merely delayed it by many years.
The Dragon Horn was covered in bands of red gold and black iron; as the sound of the horn rose, the ancient Valyrian glyphs carved upon the bands began to glow red.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh eeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr oooooooooooohhhhhh!
The Dragon Horn let out a terrifying roar, a blast filled with agony and fury that seemed as if it would scorch one's ears.
"This is a horn from hell." Young Aegon immediately covered his ears. How could this sound be so piercing and soul-shaking?
He was somewhat amazed; was this truly the Dragon Horn that the dragonlords once used to call the dragons to them?
Viserys had likely already perished in the rain of arrows on the battlefield, and once the dragon arrived, he would be the truly unique and peerless king.
Although Young Aegon was still a boy of eleven or twelve, the words instilled in him by the magister, the Griffin, and his Tutors had filled him with a deep longing for that distant throne.
The king, the throne, the beautiful princess—those were all honors that belonged to him.
The glyphs were burning intensely, with every line and every word spitting out white fire.
Echoing, echoing, the sound echoed endlessly, continuing to resonate through this once quiet camp and even across the battlefield where the fierce fighting raged ahead.
How terrifying the sound of the horn was, spreading across the plains of the Andalos. The sound screamed incessantly, as if it could fill the entire chaotic world.
Those fighting on the battlefield were also bewitched by this demonic sound, becoming more easily stirred by inexplicable emotions, turning into beasts of the battlefield.
They only wanted to strive to kill the enemies before them, as if a massive surge of courage had been pumped into their bodies.
Just when Young Aegon thought the sound of the horn would never end, it stopped abruptly.
Jon Clinton collapsed; the moment he had begun to blow the horn, Jon felt that something was wrong.
"Go, quickly!" Jon felt flames burning inside him; he couldn't utter a single word, nor could he lift a finger.
He felt his very blood boiling, as scorching flames roasted his lungs and heart.
The Dragon Horn seemed to possess a magical power, insisting on draining his life and blood until the very end.
The Griffin finally understood why Viserys had left his tent completely unguarded, allowing them to slip in so easily.
This was a conspiracy, a plot of blood and fire.
"Is this all a deception? Is it Viserys's game? He knew our plans; he knew about the secret alliance between me, Myles, Varys, and Illyrio, and he knew all along that the one who blew the horn would die...
No... no... run, child..." The Griffin collapsed dejectedly to the ground, without a shred of strength left to blow the horn or to cry out...
That Viserys was even more terrifying than they had imagined; the legends were true.
No one dared to set foot on the soil of the Valyrian Ruins, yet Viserys had survived that land of smoke and fire.
Magister Illyrio and the Griffin wanted to be the oriole stalking the mantis, playing a game of deception, but they never expected that the true oriole would still be Viserys.
No mortal could blow the Dragon Horn, which was why Viserys was so unconcerned. A horn this large couldn't even be carried away.
"It wasn't Viserys who harmed us; it was these chaotic times that harmed us...
"
"I am Dragonbinder... No mortal man shall sound me and live!"
The Griffin's mouth was covered in blood and blisters, and a wisp of smoke rose from the horn.
The Griffin collapsed, dead as dead could be.
After this, Jon Clinton, the Griffin, was no more.
"Father!" Young Aegon hugged Jon's body, clear tears seeping from the corners of his eyes.
He had even forgotten what his own father and mother looked like; he only regarded the Griffin as his true father.
Young Aegon looked at the horn that had killed Jon; he heard no dragon's roar, and the horn remained there, emitting a dark light.
The horn had been blown, yet there was no dragon. Where was he to go now?
"I am Dragonbinder. No mortal can make me sound and survive. Blood for fire, fire for blood." Young Aegon stared once again at the characters upon it.
Such truthful words brought with them a scent of blood.
The price of blowing the horn was life.
"Prince, we must go. The sound of this horn is too piercing; we will be discovered soon, and the dragon has not yet appeared." The Griffin's Squire hurriedly pushed aside the curtain, only to see the dead Griffin and the horn.
The Squire was startled; death had arrived so quickly.
"Get out! Get out now!" Young Aegon barked sharply, and the Squire left helplessly.
"Should I flee? Or remain my uncle's servant for the rest of my life?" Young Aegon stood frozen in place. The sound of the horn was so piercing that they would be discovered before long.
No king would forgive someone who stole from him, especially not Viserys.
Moreover, with the Griffin's sacrifice, he would not beg for mercy before Viserys.
From what Young Aegon knew of Viserys, the man possessed extraordinary charisma and was never soft-hearted toward his enemies; the Tyroshi and the dothraki had long ago experienced the methods of this butcher.
Young Aegon was fed up with waiting, fed up with dyeing his hair, and fed up with living under an assumed name.
The Usurper's rule was stabilizing, while Viserys's power was rising. Was he really to depend on charity?
"No, I am the True Dragon. I am no mortal. If Viserys can command that dragon, why can't I? The True Dragon should be me..." Young Aegon looked at the horn with determination.
Young Aegon looked at the Dragon Horn; mortals could not blow it, but he was of the blood of the True Dragon.
Young Aegon felt himself stimulated by a vague madness; this was the True Dragon—greatness and madness mixed together.
The Dragon Horn sounded for the second time.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh eeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr oooooooooooohhhhhh!
The sound of the horn seemed capable of making a person combust.
Young Aegon wanted to throw the Dragon Horn away, but found he simply couldn't; the horn seemed to guide him with a kind of magic.
Young Aegon saw the runes begin to turn fiery red, then emit a blinding white light that was hard to look at.
Hot, so hot.
Young Aegon felt as if his bones were on fire, burning away his flesh and blood from the inside out.
Let the blood, throat, chest, abdomen, and bones all burn together.
The sound of the Dragon Horn was endless, like one long, sharp scream. The screams of a thousand throats made one's head throb with pain, and then a wave of madness snatched away the soul.
"Roar!" The roar of a dragon seemed to sound in the sky again. Young Aegon swayed; he thought he was waiting for the dragon to arrive.
"Am I a True Dragon?"
Crack! Young Aegon's mouth was also covered in blood blisters, and his chest and abdomen collapsed like a deflated balloon.
Young Aegon fell to the ground. The Dragon Horn, emitting its dark light, devoured all life like a furious dragon.
This was the second victim.
Dick Crabb, who had been advancing, turned his horse around, a different expression coming over his face.
"Now, go back. Surround all the members of the Golden Company in the camp."
"By your command, my lord."
The men of the Golden Company fighting on the left wing also heard that horn—a soul-shaking sound that made one exceptionally irritable and depressed.
"Is it done?" Myles Toyne thought to himself.
A dragon's roar came from the sky, but no dragon shadow ever descended upon the tents in the rear.
"It's over." Large beads of sweat formed on Myles's face. Once, twice... now it was all over.
There was a secret agreement between Myles, Varys, and Illyrio that no one within the Golden Company knew about.
...
The Griffin thought Myles was truly helping their Cause of Restoration, but he did not know that Myles actually knew some real clues about Young Aegon.
"I'm sorry, old friend, I lied to you. So let me use my death to make up for this game."
"Charge! Charge!" Myles brandished his sword and galloped wildly across the battlefield.
"Wuuuuuuuu..." High in the sky, Viserys heard that surging, ear-piercing sound. That sound was the Dragon Horn.
The first time! The second time!
It seems the Griffin and the Cloth Dragon are both dead.
Only death can pay for life.
Viserys felt the tidal fluctuations of magical elements beginning to howl in the air; was it now? The blood-weeping longsword of blood and fire was stirring.
Sunfyre circled high in the sky, like a hawk chasing clouds, agile and swift.
The sound of the Dragonbinder horn still made the dragon feel restless and angry; this was by no means a normal Dragon Horn.
It was an interference weapon, designed to infuriate dragons and make slaves volatile.
A true Dragon Horn should contain binding spells to make the dragon dance to its tune.
Though Sunfyre was somewhat restless, under the soothing of the mental spells and Viserys, his emotions gradually returned to normal and he did not descend upon the location of the Dragonbinder.
Without the mental spells, the Dragonbinder might truly have been able to capture the dragon.
Viserys stroked the Ring of Fire on his hand.
A strong wind still blew in the sky, whipping Viserys's black robe embroidered with the red three-headed dragon.
A cold light flickered in Viserys's pale violet eyes; the game was over.
"Down, Sunfyre!" Viserys commanded. The dragon dove rapidly, then charged toward the battlefield below.
"A dragon!"
"The dragon and the rider are both alive..." The dothraki and Tyroshi were all shocked, feeling their morale crumble.
That was the densest volley of arrows, the best crossbowmen; how could it have been useless?
Was this man even a warrior? He seemed more like a demon of the battlefield.
"Long live Viserys!"
"Long live Viserys!"
The army of the Andalos strode forward. The shield wall opened directly, and the cheering soldiers began to extensively wipe out the collapsing enemy forces.
Donal and Bloodworm commanded the center, and Lord Roland charged along with them.
Argos led his heavy knights, while The Red Viper led the spear-throwers and over eight hundred Dothraki knights, harvesting the enemy like a ruthless razor through wheat...
The golden dragon shadow swept across the land, bringing rolling fury and angry roars.
Daario, with his blue hair, was startled. "How is it possible? I clearly prepared so many archers..."
O
But now, most of the archers and crossbowmen, whose spirits had already collapsed, refused to follow his commands any longer.
"Dragonflame!" Viserys commanded. The golden-red Dragonflame washed over the earth like a spear of fire. The longbowmen and Scorpion crews, who had already been depleted once, faced the judgment of fire again.
The Scorpions also caught fire. A crossbowman saw a yard-long iron bolt about to strike Viserys's armor, but with a flick of his finger, Viserys melted the entire bolt in the flames.
Even the few bolts that did strike Viserys's armor left not even a sound.
Sunfyre soared and plummeted, circling low with incredible agility.
The dragon pushed its agility to the limit, and those ordinary attacks could not harm Viserys. His armor was as solid as a rock, and the flames seemed to dance with him.
The crossbowmen burned along with their Scorpions. Within the surging golden-red flames, one human torch after another let out shrill wails.
"He's not human... he's a demon."
"Stop fighting, run! That armor can't be pierced at all."
"He's a sorcerer reeking of magic..."
"No!" Daario waved his hands, and then the Dragonflame completely engulfed him. It started burning from his blue hair until, like a whirlwind, it blew out his eyes and began to ignite the lace ruffles on his chest.
Khal Drogo's bloodrider, Khosro, still tried to draw his dragonbone bow, but the fire engulfed him from head to toe.
["Fate Reverser" Viserys Targaryen has completed the "Just Judgment" of multiple "villains" in the war. Reward: Basic attributes increased once. Strength increased →, Agility increased →, Fortitude →]
Viserys felt his attributes slowly lighting up and increasing.
Boom!
Blazing, bright golden-red fireballs exploded recklessly across the battlefield; burning men and horses were everywhere.
Those frantic archers died the fastest. The dragon circled at low altitude; the archers' arrows failed to hit, and the few that were about to hit were dissipated in a strange golden fire.
Viserys rode Sunfyre to block the rear of the battlefield, while from the front, heavy and light cavalry led the infantry to close in, forming a preliminary pocket.
The naked slaughter began!
The sound of horns seemed to ring out from all directions; the feast had begun.
On the distant plains, The Ragged Prince looked at the blood-colored battlefield and the dancing silhouette of the dragon.
"We can't hesitate any longer. At least we can still make a contribution. Kill them for me!"
The riders of the Windblown Company also cheered and howled, charging forward.
"Kill!" "Seven Stars" Argos brandished the valyrian steel arakh in his hand, which was invincible. O
The heavy knights were like iron cans; though heavy, they were invincible on this battlefield. The already collapsed dothraki and Tyroshi Alliance Army braced themselves and charged.
Before their blades could find the joints in the armor, they were directly overturned by the heavy knights.
Wails and screams were everywhere. Horse hooves thundered over, and countless died under the hooves or were cut down by the heavy cavalry.
Heavy drumbeats echoed across the land until they became a magnificent and bloody movement.
"Run!" Bloodbeard, the commander of the Company of the Cat, saw fire all around him and saw Viserys burning the battlefield once again. He knew the outcome of the war was irreversible.
He tried to take his horse and flee the battlefield, only to encounter Argos, who had been waiting for him.
Crack! Argos swung his blade. The smoke-dark valyrian steel arakh swept through Bloodbeard's body, and Bloodbeard's torso was sent flying by the force. His internal organs and intestines spilled onto the ground.
Then came the next one. Argos was like a ferocious beast, slaughtering his way through the battlefield.
The Red Viper thrust and parried with his spear while searching for the location of the big fish, Khal Drogo. Who would claim this glory?
"Long live King Viserys!"
"Long live King Viserys!"
The shattered battlefield became a sum of slaughter. The armies of the horselords and the dothraki were hammered like broken glass.
More and more figures surrendered. The Tyroshi Alliance Army laid down their weapons, and many surrendering Screamers cut off their braids and threw them on the ground.
This bloody battle began to draw to a close.
All the prisoners were surrounded in the center, having dropped their weapons. The Screamers automatically cut off their own hair.
From dawn to dusk, Viserys saw the setting sun like blood, the tears of the common people.
Viserys jumped off the dragon. Sunfyre gulped down the charred carcasses of dead horses. The air was thick with the scent of fire and sulfur.
"Your Majesty, we have found Khal Drogo," Argos said.
"Is he dead?" Viserys asked.
"Not yet, but soon," Argos said.
The honor of killing a king could only be enjoyed by another king.
Viserys's black boots stepped on the soil; many blades of grass were stained with dewdrops of blood.
Viserys saw Khal Drogo sitting by a small mound, with dozens of wounds all over his body. His original golden belt was covered in blood.
The color was fading from Drogo's face; torn muscles were visible in the wounds on his chest and abdomen, and some wounds even showed bone.
Even on the verge of death, Khal Drogo had killed some of those who besieged him.
Drogo's dead Bloodriders lay fallen around him.
Drogo's eyes widened as he looked at the victor before him, Viserys.
"The one who kills you is none other than I, Viserys Targaryen." Viserys drew the purple True Dragon Sword.
The blade sang in the air, followed by the dance of blood and head.
Viserys noticed that Drogo's Bloodriders also carried a circle of heads. One man, two women.
"Who are these?" Viserys asked.
"Khal Jommo, the Khal's pregnant wife, and a maegi," the Dothraki prisoner answered tremulously, fearing his answer might provoke the true king.
It seems it's enough.
Viserys looked at the remains. "Throw their remains into the sea of fire as well."