The banner of the black field and red dragon flew above the ruins of the rhoynar village occupied by bandits. Viserys sat on a folding camp chair, looking at the desolation before him.
Collapsed house walls, soil stained with blood, and the harvest from the village fields had long been plundered clean by the bandits.
Scavenging crows flew back and forth, letting out harsh cries.
Viserys removed his Dragon Wing helmet. His original black and red cloak was already soaked in blood, emitting a bloody stench.
Wherever those purple eyes swept, they brought submission and slaughter.
Viserys seemed to possess a blend of many qualities: the beauty of a true dragon, the fearlessness of a warrior, the elegance of an assassin, the artistry of a singer, and the compassion of a man of destiny, giving him a unique and complex charisma.
Argos, who was as stout as a small hill, and Gelin the Loynan stood guarding Viserys on his left and right.
In truth, their skills were inferior to King Viserys, but a king must have his guards; this was a matter of courtesy and a symbol of status, just as princesses and queens must have companions.
Most of the soldiers had lined up in two rows, guarding both sides of the ruined village. The soldiers were like a river of steel, their blood-stained armor and weapons emitting a blinding glare.
The golden-haired, blue-eyed andals were accustomed to carrying longswords and shields, while the black-haired, dark-eyed Loynans were accustomed to carrying pikes, throwing spears, and javelins.
Although these soldiers originated from different villages and different ethnic groups, they had all been forged by Viserys in blood and fire.
"Long live King Viserys!"
"Long live King Viserys!"
"Victory! Victory!" The soldiers raised their weapons and cheered, their passionate voices loud enough to stir the smoke and clouds on the horizon.
Only victory could bring courage; only victory could bring confidence.
War itself was a process of disillusionment; the enemy was not unbeatable.
Tyroshi slavers, rhoynar bandits, dothraki remnants—as the warriors crushed these enemies under Viserys's leadership, the soldiers slowly evolved from a makeshift crew into true steel.
Previously their faith lay in gods and prophets, but from now on, their faith would be in King Viserys and the vast earth.
Another group of andal knights and rhoynar soldiers silently cleaned up the battlefield. Reusable javelins, throwing spears, and arrows had to be recovered, along with some intact, undamaged Dothraki horses and sharp Arakh scimitars.
The heads of all the rhoynar bandits and dothraki remnants were cut off—large heads, small heads, Dothraki with braids, and Salty Men with straight hair—all hung on long spears.
These spears, laden with heads, were stuck in the ground in a straight row, creating a powerful deterrent. The heads, covered in dirt and dried blood, looked terrifying, and crows pecked at the eyes of the dead.
The majority of the corpses of these bandits and remnants were thrown into the center of the ruins and burned in fury. Tongues of flame slowly licked the bodies, leaving behind charred remains.
Human corpses are extremely prone to polluting water sources and causing plagues.
Bandit corpses did not deserve to be buried in the soil; burning them completely to fertilize the fields was their best outcome. This also aligned with the Dothraki belief that the earth should remain pristine.
With the flying of the true dragon banner, the bandits were annihilated.
The surrounding Loynans who had been hiding and were originally coerced, rushed over bravely, like flies finding rotten fruit.
Leading them was an aged Loyna Elder, along with rhoynar warriors carrying throwing spears.
The scattered Loynans slowly gathered, forming several walls of people, observing the ruins of war. The once-arrogant bandits had been separated from their bodies, leaving behind their dried, ugly heads.
The Loynans, with their olive skin, slender figures, flowing long hair, and dark eyes, were no longer affluent; their clothing lacked quality, and those possessing silver scaled armor, turtle shell shields, or fish-shaped helmets were extremely rare.
In ancient times, the Loynans were famous for their wealth, love of art, and sophisticated lifestyles. After their decline, the Loynans also began to live crudely.
The rhoynar village elders each led away the weeping rhoynar women, these tragic victims of the war.
Once captured by bandits or the dothraki, this was the fate: the dothraki did not kill women, but they never spared men.
Viserys did not stop the Loynans' actions; the intelligent Loynans should understand who ended their humiliation.
The rhoynar village elders and soldiers listened to the firsthand accounts of the war—King Viserys's bravery and ferocity, how he fought like a warrior, tossing bandits aside and personally slaying dothraki bandits.
Discipline, equipment, and training were the true essence of war, and with commanders like Viserys and the strongman Argos, the andals' soldiers finally showed signs of vitality.
The knowledgeable Loyna Elder already understood that the fragmented Loynans were no match for the dothraki tribes, and now they couldn't even defeat the unified andals.
The andals had begun to unite and formed a stable army with cavalry, infantry, and longbowmen, while the Loynans were still in a state of village warfare, barely able to fight off dothraki stragglers.
"Thank you for your generosity, Lord Viserys." A white-haired Loyna Elder, leaning on a staff, approached, his tone extremely humble.
"You should address His Majesty, Elder, and you need to kneel. His Majesty Viserys is the formally crowned King of the andals, the Loynans, and the First Men, anointed with holy oil," Argos said discontentedly, carrying his astonishingly ugly greatsword.
His physique was quite intimidating, like the great boar king of the jungle, similar in build to Umber or the Mountain.
"The Elders are wise men; they naturally understand why I have traveled so far," Viserys said, waving his hand and standing up from the folding chair.
Viserys signaled Argos not to continue speaking. Viserys's gaze rested on the Loyna Elder's face.
The Loynans were, after all, a civilized race; they required a mix of suppression and appeasement.
As for the Ironborn and the Dothraki, these humanoid things, Viserys felt that only slaughter would clear their heads.
"Fellow Loynans, these rhoynar degenerates mixed with cruel dothraki remnants, plundering our villages and seizing our women. Mother Rhoyne River flows with blood and tears, yet cannot save our tragic fate," the Loyna Elder said, turning to the dense crowd of Loynans.
"I have told myself countless times that the one who can lead us to protect our land is our King.
And now, I believe Mother Rhoyne River has guided us in this direction." The Loyna Elder pointed toward Viserys.
"King Viserys!"
"King Viserys!"
"Mother Rhoyne River, light our path!"
Led by the Loyna Elder, the shouting spread through the Loynans like a plague: Loyna Elders, rhoynar warriors, rhoynar women and children, and the weeping rhoynar female captives.
"We have lost too much; we absolutely cannot allow our descendants to live in the same state of prolonged misery as we have."
The Loynans of Essos, like the andals, were orphans abandoned by the old world order, having lost most of their honor during the Century of Blood.
And now was a new opportunity, a chance for the oppressed to reclaim their former glory.
Perhaps this path was rugged, but those at the bottom had to desperately grasp this lifeline.
"People of the rhoynar villages, are you willing to fight with me, to endure sickness, wounds, and death, for the freedom and future of your people?" Viserys asked sternly. "I cannot promise much. All I promise is that I will fight like a King—never retreating, brave and fearless."
"Fight!"
"Fight!"
"Fight!"
The excited Loynans shouted, men, women, and children alike, all raising their arms enthusiastically.
Their roars were the most sincere expression of their inner feelings, for the destiny of the Loynans.
"We pledge our fealty to you, in the name of Mother Rhoyne River." The Loyna Elders respectfully led the villagers forward. The Loynans successively dropped their spears and bows before Viserys and knelt on one knee.
"I shall provide protection and justice to the Loynans who submit to me, in the name of the true dragon and fire," Viserys said, pressing his longsword over the shoulders of the Loynans.
These surrendered Loynans would provide Viserys with warriors, taxes, and grain, and in return, Viserys's soldiers would become the sword and shield of the Loynans.
Some covenants are written in paper and ink, while others are forged in blood and tears.
This covenant was a new covenant: the covenant of water and fire, the covenant of the Loynans and the andals, the covenant of the true dragon and the great river.
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