"The Archon is dead!" "The Archon who colluded with the dragons of Westeros is dead!"
War erupted at dusk. Assassins charged toward the Archon's mansion like a raging tide. Some disguised assassins also launched a sudden attack on the High Priest's small temple.
"Is Governor Dario flipping the table because he can't win?" Rhaegar thought. The merchants from Lys and Myr had been bewitching Governor Dario day and night. He had been completely persuaded; eliminating the Archon and the High Priest in one fell swoop was an evil and insane plan. However, this kind of madness might just work on the Tyroshi, because the Tyroshi were like rats—better suited to obeying a leader. They could tolerate someone like the Silver Tongue declaring himself king, and perhaps they could tolerate Dario's usurpation as well.
"Assassins!" "Assassins! Protect the High Priest!" The guards of the three-headed god's spear roared as they stood guard around the small three-headed god temple.
In the pitch darkness, the enemy was far more brutal than they had imagined, with arrows raining down upon them. These were likely not Tyroshi; they were assassins specifically targeting those who were not believers of the three-headed god, striking with lethal intent.
The High Priest's guards suffered several casualties and fled into the temple.
"Close the gates! No one is allowed to open them!" the High Priest roared.
The three-headed god temple was a red, three-story structure with walls that were not particularly high. The gates were tightly shut, and the enemy was preparing to ram the gates and climb the walls.
"Arrows! War drums!"
"Find two loud-voiced men, find a few who can use crossbows and longbows, and come up to the roof with me!" Rhaegar shouted. His voice was as resonant as steel. He was also the person with the most battlefield experience currently in the three-headed god temple.
"Obey the guest's commands!" the High Priest said, acting like a defeated rooster. Governor Dario clearly wanted to kill him. The High Priest's alertness was purely psychological; without force and magic, he remained in grave danger.
Rhaegar stood on the roof of the third floor, exerting strength in his arms. He drew the string of his black, double-arched Dragonbone Longbow, and fierce arrows shot out like fire. Rhaegar's custom-made arrows had large heads and long shafts. "Start shouting for me! Just shout that someone is trying to assassinate the High Priest!"
"Yes!" "Yes!" the two loud-voiced guards of the three-headed god's spear replied.
"Citizens of Tyrosh, wake up! Someone is trying to kill our High Priest!"
"Citizens of Tyrosh, save us! Someone is trying to kill our High Priest!" The guards roared crazily on the roof, and the sound of war drums resounded through the sky, adding fuel to the chaos among the Tyroshi.
"Don't let them keep shouting! Quickly shoot those people on the roof!" The assassins besieging the temple were startled and deathly pale, and could only urge the soldiers to climb the walls quickly.
Those crossbowmen viciously aimed at Rhaegar, but it was to no avail. The protection of the eagle god was fully deployed, and Rhaegar would be alerted to any danger within a hundred meters.
"Watch out for that blue-haired masked man!" "Watch out for the blue-haired one!" The assassins shouted, but they were unable to break through.
Rhaegar's longbow was peerless. Using a powerful bow with a range exceeding four hundred yards to snipe assassins climbing the walls was simply overkill.
Rhaegar wore his black scale armor and held the pitch-black, double-arched Dragonbone Longbow, which was the most powerful bow of the current era. It had long range and astonishing power. The double-arched Dragonbone Longbow was very tall and looked intimidating.
"Beat the drums! Shout loudly! Shoot arrows!" Rhaegar held the longbow, firing arrows in succession.
The assassins who wanted to break through the walls were pinned down directly by arrows. A ring of corpses began to accumulate around the ancient temple of the three-headed god. Blood-red was the primary color of the day, playing out in the inner city of Tyrosh.
Ordinary people could not draw a bow for long, but Rhaegar was a True Dragon. The fire within him was burning fiercely, and the True Dragon's stamina far exceeded that of ordinary people.
The morale of the guards of the three-headed god's spear was greatly boosted. They followed Rhaegar in fighting back; the guards below held the gates firmly, and the royal escort soldiers on the roof began shooting arrows downward.
The situation began to stalemate for a moment. The temple was like a small boat in a vast ocean, yet it was difficult to breach.
Seeing the situation, the assassins actually began to lose heart.
"When did such a formidable character arrive?" The leader of the besieging assassins had trembling legs. He knew all too well the consequences of failing to capture the temple.
"If it's not working, let's just retreat first!" one assassin suggested. But before his words had finished, the shadow of a heavy, dark war hammer appeared. A single blow smashed the skull of the assassin who had suggested retreating, turning it into a mess. Red and white, everything lay scattered on the ground.
"A bunch of trash!" A few reinforcements appeared among the assassins. They varied in height and weight, but all were murderous. The leading burly man cursed roughly, not even bothering to wipe the bloodstains off his war hammer. The burly man wore no armor and wielded a huge, dark war hammer. He was about forty years old, with dark skin and red-black hair, his eyes filled with cruelty and madness. He was sturdy, and Rhaegar estimated his height to be at least six feet five inches. More importantly, his muscles were hard and firm. His chest and stomach were covered with scars, his chest was broad, and his arms were exceptionally thick.
"Let me handle this!"
"Is he from Meereen?" Rhaegar understood in his heart. Judging by the attire, this elite squad that had come to support looked like it was from Meereen. The Myrmen and Lysene had also spent a great deal of money; they had actually hired Meereenese pit fighters at a high price.
"Move aside! Only cowards hide in iron armor!"
"Only cowards hide in steel, only cowards use bows and arrows!" The pit fighter roared. All the assassins cleared a path, and he led his men to charge forward. The Meereenese pit fighter roared as he charged, intending to use his giant hammer to completely smash the gate. His hammer even whistled through the air; with his massive size, his speed was indeed impressive.
"What a pity, how can you not wear a helmet when you come out as a suicide soldier?" Rhaegar's arrows were very fast, fast to an astonishing degree. A giant bow and a long spear—they were all just meant for killing. The fierce arrow tore through the sky with a "whoosh," and the powerful shot pierced the burly man's neck, leaving a blood-red hole from which blood gushed out. The burly man's body collapsed like a small mountain, making a dull thud on the ground.
When drawing a bow, draw a strong one; when using arrows, use long ones. To shoot a man, first shoot his horse; to capture the bandits, first capture their leader.
Rhaegar did not stop. Arrows continued to shoot from his longbow, piercing necks, hearts, or eyes. These savage gladiators from Meereen did not like to wear armor, and even if they reluctantly put some on, it had huge gaps. Under the sharp blade of the longbow, it was a completely one-sided massacre. The double-arched Dragonbone Longbow seemed to be cheering, cheering for the taking of human lives. The arrows were like raindrops, and each arrow left another corpse on the ground.
Only a dragon king who draws on magic and fire could achieve such a feat, acting like a perpetual motion machine that never tires of firing arrows. If it were a normal soldier, their stamina would slowly fade after a few volleys, not to mention the pressure of the enemy's arrows coming back.
On the ground lay a pile of corpses, the bodies of the Meereenese pit fighters particularly eye-catching.
"The three-headed god protects!" "The three-headed god protects!" The guards of the Tyroshi spear began to cheer. They prayed to the three-headed god, thanking the deity and thanking the blue-haired guest who helped them.
"A pit fighter! Why risk your life like that?" Rhaegar sighed. These Meereenese pit fighters were similar to gladiators, and their tactics were the same—a reckless charge with no strategy, and they didn't like to wear armor. Because in the fighting pits, no one wore armor; the audience loved blood, death, gore, and the painful wails of the dying. They loved death descending on the yellow sand; that was a moving piece of music.
"Master Hammer is dead!" "Master Hammer is dead!" The assassins wailed, daring not to move forward any longer. They left behind piles of corpses and an indelible, bloody stench.
Seeing that the Meereenese experts were dead, these assassins immediately scattered, fearing they would be too slow to escape. The clever assassins and mercenaries had already run away when the Meereenese fighters charged. Those who weren't clever were angrily surrounded by the Tyroshi citizens who arrived one after another.
The armed Tyroshi citizens and mercenaries shouted and cursed, rushing out of their homes toward the Tyrosh temple to defend the High Priest.
The Tyroshi citizens and mercenaries, those devout followers of the three-headed god, pulled off their belts and weapons, striking the assassins fiercely. The scene was very bloody; except for a few lucky assassins, some had already been beaten to death.
Rhaegar quietly found a corner, a small blue flame lighting up in his hand. Through the flame, he searched for the dynamics of the Archon's mansion. More mercenary troops were besieging it under the personal command of Governor Dario, but they had not broken through. Rhaegar even saw Shireen in armor in the works, personally directing. Seeing that the girl was fine, Rhaegar breathed a sigh of relief. However, the Archon of Tyrosh seemed to be in real mortal danger, but whether he was dead or alive was unclear for now.
"We want to see the High Priest!"
"We want to see the High Priest!" In the pitch black of night, the voices of the Tyroshi citizens and mercenaries rose, like a tide, growing louder and louder. They didn't even care about the smell of blood or the corpses lying around; only the safety of the High Priest was of paramount importance. At this moment, they missed that kind, gentle old man.
"Go and meet your great victory, shall you? High Priest!" Rhaegar said to the High Priest. At this moment, nothing could stabilize the hearts of the people better than the High Priest appearing in person.
The High Priest appeared even older. Tyrosh was truly in troubled times recently; having just stopped the Silver Tongue who declared himself king, a large-scale civil war had now begun.
"I will thank you for your friendship, Prince Rhaegar! You did not interfere in our internal affairs in Tyrosh," the High Priest said. Such a scene was not suitable for Rhaegar to appear in.
"My companions are almost here too!" Rhaegar replied. It wasn't that I didn't interfere, it's just that my methods are more sophisticated.
The High Priest's heart sank. Prince Rhaegar's companions—wasn't that the True Dragon? Tyrosh was too close to the Stepstones; the True Dragon could arrive in an instant.
"The Lysene and Myrmen have become involved in the situation in Tyrosh and have become the public enemies of Tyrosh. Prince, I do not wish for you to be the same!" The High Priest hurriedly grabbed Rhaegar's sleeve and said solemnly.
"Rest assured, High Priest. This situation is already very favorable to me. I have gained the friendship of the High Priest, so there is no need to ravage Tyrosh with the True Dragon. The arrival of the True Dragon is only to protect me, to protect my friends. But if the True Dragon is not deployed, when do you think the chaos in Tyrosh will end? Sometimes, butcher-like methods are also for the sake of true feelings!"
The High Priest fell silent. He could not deny the correctness of Rhaegar's words. Even he himself would conduct a purge of the three-headed god temple after the war. Governor Dario's arrogance was not just because of the bandwagon-jumping of some governors in the Council of Governors; there must have been some priests who had defected, and the involvement of external powers from Lys and Myr. For power, what wouldn't they do?
"Fine, then please promise me, try not to use force against innocent civilians, and control the scope of the True Dragon's use," the High Priest requested with difficulty.
"I promise you, my lord. I have no intention of arguing with you, High Priest. Power comes from the hearts of the people; only by being of one heart and mind can we work together. Cutting through the chaos with a sharp knife—this turmoil is also an opportunity for you."
The High Priest said no more. He let the slave soldiers open the gates. The slave soldiers went out first, and only after confirming the scene was safe did they invite the High Priest. Priests and slave soldiers from temples all over the city also rushed over, joining together to protect the High Priest and this ancient temple.
Surrounded by priests and slave soldiers, the High Priest began to come out to deliver a speech, and he regained the majesty of the High Priest. The High Priest showed everyone his graying hair, his aged and frightened face. "Everyone, look at my hair! My hair has turned gray. I have served the three-headed god year after year. I do not overeat, nor am I greedy for wealth. But I do not know, who would want to kill me. The assassins have killed my children and insulted the holy temple. Is my faith in the three-headed god insincere? Is this the three-headed god's punishment for me? Merciful three-headed god, please answer me!"
"Merciful three-headed god, please answer me!" The High Priest knelt on the ground and then touched the statue of the three-headed god with his hand.
"Protect the High Priest! Destroy the blasphemers!"
"Protect the High Priest! Destroy the blasphemers and traitors!" The priests, merchants, mercenaries, slaves, and slave soldiers all began to shout loudly, the sound like a raging sea.
Rhaegar saw it clearly from the roof of the third floor; the power of these religious zealots was truly terrifying.
"This is the darkest day in the history of Tyrosh. The statue of the three-headed god is weeping, bleeding. I almost lost the protection of the gods; this is my sin! But I want to ask, who dares to offend the great three-headed god." The High Priest asked again.
The slave soldiers of the three-headed god walked over and brought the surviving assassins and mercenaries, tied up, into the crowd, before the High Priest.
Stones and spit drowned everything. The surviving assassins wailed until they revealed the mastermind.
"I demand an answer from Dario! Give me a clear answer! Why did these assassins come from the Lysene and Myrmen merchants in his mansion! If Dario does not give me this answer, I will kneel and pray at his doorstep!" The High Priest raised his hands, and the priests, merchants, and mercenaries began to scramble to kiss his robes.
A large group of people formed a mighty procession, rushing toward Dario's troops.
"Traitor Dario!"
"Execute Dario!"
"Execute Dario! Execute the lackeys of Lys and Myr!" Everyone fell into a frenzy.
As the crowd left in a mighty wave, Rhaegar heard the sound of leathery wings flapping in the air. His companions had arrived.
Three True Dragons dived down from the clouds. The night was their best cover. The True Dragons arrived not far from Rhaegar.
The empty three-headed god temple was left with only a sporadic squad of guards, who could only watch the True Dragons sweep over the roof.
The Tyroshi fell into chaos, with no one organizing an effective resistance.
In fact, when the True Dragons swept over the sky of Tyrosh, the garrison heard some wind and saw some dragon shadows. But the giant dragons had been gone for too long; Tyrosh's defensive facilities had long been abandoned. Coupled with the chaotic situation in Tyrosh, no one dared to make a move.
"The affairs of the world are unknowable!" The captain of the Tyroshi garrison wanted to issue orders and rotate the Scorpion Crossbows, but he was stopped by his subordinates.
Three True Dragons swept across the high sky. The True Dragons bared their fangs and brandished their claws, their beautiful scales like a collection of noble colors—silver, purple, black-red. The three True Dragons cheered, breathing fireballs in the high sky of Tyrosh, bright and dazzling—purple, black, silver. Tyrosh had already fallen into a scene of the apocalypse.
"Companions! Let's go!" Rhaegar jumped onto the back of the Silver Emperor and flew toward the Archon's mansion in Tyrosh.