The orange glow of the sun slowly pierced the clouds, heralding the arrival of a new day.
The sun was warm, but war was cruel.
The land around Viserys Fort was stained red with blood, from top to bottom.
Dark brown blood colored the wild grass by the roadside and splattered the scattered rocks.
The ground was pocked with muddy hoofprints, and severed limbs and fingers were strewn carelessly about.
Viserys Targaryen removed his bloodstained dragon helm, revealing a handsome face that blended boyishness with steely resolve.
Although his attributes had risen, pushing him towards becoming a "stat monster," a night of intense mount-and-blade combat had still drained his energy and spirit.
Viserys now understood why great generals often lived short lives; the mental and physical toll was immense.
The battlefield was a place of life and death, where the situation changed in an instant.
Shouldering the lives of thousands, considering strategy, logistics, and morale, while gathering intelligence on the enemy—it was indeed not something an ordinary person could handle.
Especially in this era of classical warfare, where generals often had to charge into the fray themselves.
Viserys shook off his fatigue and ordered Ser Roland Lake to handle the battlefield cleanup: tallying casualties, securing prisoners, counting the dead, and so on.
"Long live King Viserys!"
"Long live the King!" Many soldiers expressed their joy in victory and their praise for the king.
Viserys greeted them, quite satisfied with the outcome. It was a beautiful victory.
His soldiers had received excellent training. Drills are bloodless battles; battles are bloody drills.
Drills could never compare to real war. A strong army is built through warfare.
The greater benefit was the boost to Viserys's personal prestige.
Previously, many soldiers knew Viserys had the talent of a Water Dancer assassin, but they doubted his ability as a knight commander.
After all, frontal combat was vastly different from assassination, and Viserys was young with no war experience.
But after this victory, everyone's doubts vanished.
Viserys had not only devised the "Hammer and Anvil" tactic but had also led the charge personally, fighting the fiercest and killing the most.
Talk of restoration and grand dreams was hollow; right now, the most important thing was whether Viserys could fight and whether he dared to lead.
Of course, even more important was the attribute increase.
[Fate-Reverser Viserys Targaryen has unlocked the new class: Knight. Reward: Basic Attribute Increase (Strength +0.1, Agility +0.1)]
[Fate-Reverser Viserys Targaryen has executed multiple "Villains" in battle. Reward: Basic Attribute Increase (Strength +0.1, Agility +0.1)]
Viserys looked at the gains from the [Justiciar's Judgment] talent. He had killed many in the battle, but pure villains were still a minority.
This talent required a batch of genuine scum to maximize. Fortunately, both Essos and Westeros were full of trash: Dothraki, pirates, slavers, robber knights, and mercenaries were all fair game.
Watching the flashing information on his attribute panel, Viserys figured out the pattern.
When he activated a new class or special talent, the system rewarded him with extra attributes.
Strength was the easiest to activate, followed by Agility and Resilience. Spirit increased the slowest.
It seemed the system encouraged Viserys to try new things and unlock new professions and talents.
[Viserys Targaryen]
[Age: 14]
[Class: Fate-Reverser (Novice), Knight (Proficient), Water Dancer (Proficient), Singer (Master), Gourmet (Legendary)]
Viserys looked at his classes. After the war, he had unlocked the Knight class, and it had already surpassed Water Dancer to become his second primary profession.
[Reputation: Rising Pioneer]
The title "Beggar King" had disappeared, replaced by "Pioneer."
[Charm: High]
[Companions: None]
[Attributes: Strength 3, Resilience 2.9, Agility 3, Spirit 2.1]
His attributes were very balanced. Viserys predicted that anything above 3 represented a first-rate warrior, and few others would be as well-rounded as he was.
[Special Talents: Gluttony, God of Gourmets, Insight, Justiciar's Judgment]
Viserys ordered special attention to be paid when screening the prisoners, looking specifically for those who were strong, possessed craftsman skills, or had some level of education.
"What is your name?" Viserys asked a peculiar prisoner, a blond priest with a seven-pointed star painted on his face.
A priest counted as an educated man.
He had the standard Andal look: blond hair, blue eyes, tall stature.
The blond priest wore a chainmail hauberk over dirty white robes marked with the seven-pointed star. Instead of a sword, he carried a silver-plated wooden staff used for prayer.
This priest was one of the leaders of the Andal bandit gang, choosing to surrender after "One-Eye" was killed.
From the looks of it, he was a camp follower priest, as the Andals were devout followers of the Seven.
"Ebony of Andalos. I am the septon for this operation," Bishop Ebony answered respectfully. "These gangs are my flock. I pray to the Seven for these leaders and warriors."
"May I ask your age?" Ebony inquired.
"Fourteen," Viserys replied.
"The Warrior's star shone upon you, not us," Ebony shook his head. "True power of the Warrior."
"I don't believe I offended any tribe in the Velvet Hills," Viserys said, having a wooden stool brought for the septon.
"You didn't offend anyone, but snatching and running is our custom," Ebony explained, stretching his stiff limbs.
Viserys immediately understood the logic of these Andal bandits. They used raiding tactics: loot, run, and disperse.
"Where is your chivalry? I recall knighthood originated in Andalos. Knights do not steal or rob," Viserys asked.
"Since the wealthy Andal lords left for Westeros, we abandoned tribes haven't had the energy or money to learn how to be knights. It's better to just grab what we can," Bishop Ebony explained sheepishly.
The rich brothers ran off to Westeros, leaving the poor brothers to eat dirt.
Viserys was speechless. "Who organized these tribes?"
"It was One-Eye, whom you killed. His men discovered outsiders mining river sand. One-Eye was one of the most fearsome warriors among the tribes here. There were also Toadleg and Axe, but I think they're dead too," Ebony replied.
"You're a septon; why are you fighting in a war? Aren't you afraid?" Viserys asked.
"They're all acquaintances. I'm the only septon around bold enough to run with them, and besides, I have children to feed."
"You have children?" Ser Roland was surprised. This was very much against the doctrine.
A septon couldn't marry or have children, unless they were born before he took his vows.
"It's normal here; the environment is harsh. Being a septon is a side job for survival. I have to feed my wife and kids," Ebony said frankly.
Viserys studied Ebony carefully. He felt a certain appreciation for the man's talent.
This Priest Ebony was flexible, not a fanatic obsessed with dogma like the High Sparrow.
"So now, you are the leader of these prisoners?"
"Barely. You could say that. I know them all," Ebony said, embarrassed.
"What did you say I looked like earlier?" Viserys asked.
"I said you looked like the Warrior descended to earth today. No, you are the incarnation of the Warrior. Only the Warrior could be so brave and invincible," Bishop Ebony said loudly and practicedly, causing Viserys's soldiers to laugh heartily.
Viserys looked at this hedge priest. He had sharp eyes, and as a septon, he likely had some level of education.
"What books have you read?" Viserys asked.
"The Seven-Pointed Star, History of the Andals, noble Dragon King. I once wanted to study at the Citadel, but my pockets were empty," Ebony replied.
"You know my identity," Viserys stated.
"I heard the soldiers' shouts, saw the dragon banner, and your appearance—silver hair and violet eyes are the marks of Dragonlords," Bishop Ebony said seriously, looking at Viserys.
Viserys was quite interested in Ebony. He had come in a hurry, lacking both a septon and a maester. Now, he had a ready-made one among the prisoners.
"Death is the gift I bestowed. I am sorry, but this is war."
"You need not apologize. Slaughter is the fate of the Andals," Ebony said somewhat bleakly. "We are scattered sand. Braavosi, Pentoshi, Dothraki, mercenaries come and go. Clinging to the strong and fleeing is instinct."
"What if I speak of the future? A different life for the Andals." Viserys looked straight at Ebony.
"A great future," Ebony said. "The Andals who tried in the past did not receive the Seven's protection to see it through."
"Since you say I am the Warrior descended, how should you treat me?" Viserys looked at Ebony. The path was open; he wanted to hear the answer.
"The Warrior stands before the enemy, protecting us from north, south, east, and west. Everyone, His Grace Viserys is the Warrior's incarnation on earth. The punishment we received tonight was the Warrior's wrath. Kneel, and let us accept the Warrior's will." Bishop Ebony stood up and spoke loudly to the prisoners.