Viserys walked through the bloody, muddy battlefield, where bodies of men and horses, mostly Tyroshi, lay scattered.
The banner of the Three-Headed God lay on the ground, mixed with the dirt.
The smell of blood, mud, and grass mingled together, and numerous scavengers had already begun to gather, with large black ravens pecking at human eyeballs and brains.
Aman Greenvine and his son were so stimulated by this bloody scene that they felt a sense of frenzied mental breakdown. Most of the Greenvine Family's cavalry had surrendered, and the Tyroshi Mercenaries, their trump card, had died in the hill pass.
Aman wept bitterly, unsure if he was crying over his own fate or the brutality of the war.
"You want to seize supreme power, yet you are unwilling to risk your own blood and tears," Viserys said, looking at Aman indifferently. The will to power created this world.
"Victory belongs to the King!" The cheering soldiers raised their weapons: longbows, spears, or pitchforks and flails.
"Victory belongs to the andals, to the warriors!" Viserys returned the salute.
Argos and Hugo were directing the scavenging; since the Tyroshi had died in battle, their armor, weapons, supplies, and precious metals would all become the spoils of war for the andals.
These spoils would be collected centrally and then redistributed.
Clear rewards and punishments were the hallmark of an army. Viserys had repeatedly demanded a sense of honor and discipline from his soldiers. They were not to plunder indiscriminately; they were the army of andal, not dothraki bandits.
After several victories, Viserys had already gained extremely high prestige. A general could possess many virtues, but victory was certainly the most crucial.
"His Majesty Viserys, I beg, I beg for your forgiveness. For the sake of my being an andal as well, I am willing to offer my estates and a high ransom," Aman pleaded incessantly.
"It's too late, Lord Aman. From now on, Andals will have no Greenvine Family; Andals will have only one King," Viserys replied.
"You, you've killed so many Tyroshi, you will surely face retaliation from Tyrosh. You need me, His Majesty Viserys, I have very good relations with the Tyroshi and can intercede for you," Aman Greenvine changed his tone again.
"Intercede." Viserys stared at Aman. "Your so-called intercession is to betray your lord for glory, to sell out the andals to gain the friendship of Tyroshi slavers. This time, who else do you want to sell out?"
"The Free Cities are invincible, you are leading the andals down a path of destruction, you brat, Viserys!" Aman cursed, his defenses broken.
"You old white-haired rogue, you don't know what kind of endeavor I am creating, an endeavor you never imagined. Unfortunately, you won't live to see it. The andals will re-embrace sword and fire, wash away past disgraces, and change everything." Viserys no longer bothered with Aman, a man on the verge of death.
Aman Greenvine and his son were tied to different pine trees on the battlefield.
"Ser Roland. Speed is of the essence," Viserys commanded Roland Lake. "The Greenvine Family is a terrified enemy.
I want you to take them down, with these cavalrymen."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Roland Lake knelt and saluted.
Now, with the capture of the Greenvine Family's patriarch and heir, and the collapse of their elite guards, it was a time of panic.
If they were to strike while the iron was hot, now was the best time. All andals would abandon the blasphemers and traitors.
Ser Roland led a portion of the cavalry; they would cross the river and drive straight to completely annihilate the Greenvine Family.
If the Greenvine Family's supply convoy was still intact, it would also be recovered as a mere accessory.
The remaining people were still cleaning the battlefield, and no one paid any attention to the dazed Aman and his son.
Clatter clatter clatter!
Some time after the cavalry led by Roland Lake departed, the sound of cavalry was heard again from behind the hill.
It was Syrio and his party, also rushing to the battlefield of Red Hill.
But it wasn't just Syrio and the soldiers from Viserysgrad; there were also some burly, tall knights, wearing animal hide cloaks and bright armor.
Viserys looked back and saw that these men were clearly knights of the Stone Family.
The knights' gazes swept across the battlefield, a field strewn with corpses. Anyone with working eyes could clearly see that it was a new great victory.
"Donnal Stone, patriarch of the Stone Family," the leading knight, around thirty years old, introduced himself first.
Donnal appeared burly and strong, and his bright plate armor was no ordinary item, exuding a fierce and mighty aura.
Donnal was tall, about seven feet, and had well-built muscles, looking even more intimidating than Argos.
The Stone Family had always been considered the strongest warriors among the old andals.
"Viserys Targaryen, the King," Viserys also spoke, unhurried and composed.
Viserys had originally planned a special operation against the Stone Family, but he hadn't expected them to come to him.
"Was this organized by you?" Donnal asked, still somewhat skeptical and shocked. Viserys looked more like a refined young lord, yet he was surprisingly ruthless and cunning in battle.
Viserys nodded, "Before inviting Lord Donnal, I invited Lord Aman to a little main course."
"Lord Donnal, quickly, save me, save me! If you can save me, I will offer my family estates, my wealth, and I will support you as King of the andals!" Aman cried out loudly, as if a drowning man had seen his only savior.
Donnal glanced at the surrounding bodies of Tyroshi Mercenaries, piled in a heap, their hair dyed in various colors, and the banner of the Three-Headed God on the ground.
"These Tyroshi Mercenaries, did you invite them?" Donnal asked.
"Yes, I did," Aman said, gritting his teeth. "Viserys wants to take Andals; he is our enemy. He also wants to be an enemy of the Free Cities; the Tyroshi will come sooner or later."
"And that's not all," Viserys sneered. "Lord Aman even tried to kidnap me with gladiators after I shared bread and salt with him."
"Shut up! That's because you are too greedy, you will sooner or later ruin all of Andals!" Aman babbled, repeating, "I am for peace, for Andals."
Donnal dismounted from his warhorse, picked up a horsewhip, and strode towards Aman.
He did not rescue Aman, but instead furiously lashed the horsewhip across Aman's face.
The horsewhip twisted into a knot and was then swung with furious force, and red blood flowed freely.
"Shut up, you old bastard!" Donnal looked at Aman furiously, Aman's face utterly devoid of color.
"You shouldn't do this. We are all andals. I can even support you as King."
"I never negotiate with traitors and oathbreakers, Aman."
"I recognize your ability, His Majesty Viserys," Donnal said, looking at Viserys. "But I will not regret speaking disrespectfully. If you want to conquer Andals, you must first conquer Stone."
"How do you intend to do that?" Viserys asked.
"I demand trial by combat. Let's see if the Seven Gods agree to your claim, for you to be King of the andals," Donnal said, looking at Viserys. "You may choose a champion knight."
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