Tywin fled for his life, looking back in terror at Robert, who was mounted on a strange beast.
The Lannister army had been scattered by the rebels, but a portion had managed to follow him.
Tywin hid among them, using his soldiers as shields against arrows.
"Quick, give chase! The one in the red cloak is Tywin Lannister!"
Robert laughed heartily, his eyes locked onto Tywin in his ornate armor, imagining the glory of capturing him and holding both the Iron Throne and the Westerlands to ransom.
"Damn it!"
Tywin cursed inwardly, tearing off his majestic red cloak.
The red cloak flew off, wrapping around the face of a Lannister Soldier and causing him to fall from his horse.
The Great-horned Elk beneath Robert leaped three meters high, clearing the fallen soldier and horse, as he continued to stare at Tywin, growing a bit impatient: "Keep chasing! The one with the beard is Tywin Lannister!"
Tywin was startled and looked around; the surrounding soldiers were all young and clean-shaven.
To lose his pursuers, he pulled a dagger from his lower back and, hardening his heart, sliced off his short golden beard.
At the same time, the hatred in his heart reached its peak.
That son of a bitch Robert!
Do you know how important a well-groomed beard is to a middle-aged man with a receding hairline?
"The one with the short beard is Tywin Lannister!"
Robert shouted again from behind as he gave chase.
Tywin's face flushed with rage instantly. He cut a piece of cloth from his horse's trappings and wrapped it around his chin, leaving nothing exposed.
In truth, fear had clouded his judgment, making him instinctively try to hide his appearance.
Sure enough.
A second later, Robert shouted again: "The one with golden hair and golden armor is Tywin Lannister!"
Tywin almost spat out a curse, realizing the man was simply toyng with him.
"Block the city gates!!"
Robert was forced to stop his pursuit as he reached the thick of the Lannister army, but his eyes remained fixed on Tywin, who stood out exceptionally in the crowd.
With that golden hair and golden armor, it was hard not to notice him.
Robert mocked him from the bottom of his heart.
Did he really think just anyone could wear such flashy armor?
On the battlefield, without real skills to stay alive, who would be foolish enough to wear such distinctive armor?
By now, the fires of war had engulfed both the inside and outside of the city.
The Lannister army was isolated and without aid, suffering a surprise attack from the vanguard led by Robert, and was on the verge of a total rout.
Tygett struggled to hold his ground, leading his personal guards to charge out of the city gates.
But when he intended to retreat, he suddenly realized his elder brother Tywin was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he!?"
Tygett's eyes nearly split from rage as he grabbed his guard's collar and roared in anger.
King's Landing, the Red Keep.
After waiting for nearly half a month, Daeron finally met the Red Priestess Varys had spoken of.
"Honorable Prince, faithful servant of the Lord of Light, Melisandre offers you her sincere greetings."
The Red Priestess bowed slightly, her graceful figure displayed to the fullest, her mature and charming voice tinged with a honeyed tone.
"Please rise."
Daeron raised his hand slightly, thinking to himself that it really was Melisandre.
Melisandre looked up, revealing an exquisite and beautiful face, observing the young prince with those piercing eyes.
It had to be said, she was a beauty, with a heart-shaped face, red eyes, and long copper-red hair, full of exotic charm.
Daeron did not dare to underestimate her.
From her, he felt a wave of heat—it was fire magic so dense it was radiating outward.
"Unlike the Life Force system, does the magic of a wizard pyromancer overflow?"
Daeron wondered to himself.
This thought was quickly dismissed.
The wise Rossart he had seen also possessed some fire magic, but there was no such overflow.
And the fire magic flowing in his own blood was also very stable.
"Is it that there's too much fire magic in Melisandre's body, like a cream puff stuffed to bursting?"
Daeron deduced some clues based on her age.
Melisandre rested her hand on her waist with elegant movements and smiled: "Honorable Prince, you seem to have been expecting my arrival?"
"Was I?" Daeron asked back, glancing at Varys.
Varys lowered his head, acting like a timid quail.
"Of course."
Melisandre was not at all constrained, intentionally creating the aura of an otherworldly master. She stepped lightly toward the fireplace, touched the flames with her hand, and said calmly: "This morning, the Lord of Light told me that you have many questions to ask of me."
Putting on an act!
Daeron knew her background. Treating her like an enhanced fortune-telling television, he asked directly: "Tell me your views on the magic tide."
Here it comes!
Melisandre's eyes flashed; she knew the first interview had begun.
She took a moment to compose herself and organize her words, then said: "I come from Asshai. The High Priest of the Red Temple there told me that this magic tide is different from previous eras."
"It... is rioting!"
"Be more specific," Daeron said calmly.
Melisandre said solemnly: "I might as well tell you, this magic tide began brewing with that Red Comet over a decade ago, and it finally began to exert its power when you hatched the dragons."
"Barring any accidents, the waves of the magic tide will return to the levels seen on the eve of the Doom in a short time."
Daeron remained unfazed and probed: "At that time, how many dragons did The Freehold have?"
"How would I know?"
Melisandre indicated she wasn't born then, but still gave an answer: "The Freehold was still at its peak then, with at least four or five hundred dragons."
"Hiss!!"
Varys sucked in a breath of cold air.
Daeron glanced at him, thinking that while he hadn't said anything, Varys was certainly contributing to global warming with that gasp.
"Sorry," Varys smiled sheepishly.
The news was simply too shocking.
During the Dance of the Dragons, the House Targaryen with its 22 dragons already surpassed the number of dragons held during the era of Old Valyria.
But that was for a single era, with only those 22 dragons.
They were more endangered than protected species.
After that, the dragons went extinct.
This indicated that the Dance of the Dragons had actually caught the tail end of a magic tide, which then approached exhaustion.
Now that the magic tide was returning to the levels of the eve of the Doom, there would be an incredibly terrifying surge in magic.
The world would be able to accommodate more dragons, and the number of dragons would see a sharp increase.
Melisandre smiled and said no more.
In fact, according to their deductions of the magic tide's fluctuations, they initially judged it could return to the levels of Old Valyria.
Exactly how far it could go was still impossible to estimate.
That was why she had traveled thousands of miles to King's Landing, hoping to gain the Dragon Prince's favor and join the House Targaryen's service.
Dragons were the source of fire magic.
By the side of a dragon, she could gain infinite benefits.
"Lord Varys, arrange a decent residence for Lady Melisandre in King's Landing."
Daeron saw she had an agenda but would not expose it proactively.
This woman was not exactly a good person.
For the sake of her so-called Lord of Light, she was capable of any atrocity.
However, since she had come...
Whether he would use her was one thing, but he certainly couldn't let her get away.
Varys said humbly, "I have a manor on Silk Street. Would that be acceptable?"
Daeron waved his hand, indicating it was up to him.
Knock, knock, knock!
Just then, there was an urgent knock on the door, and Ser Jon's voice came through.
"Prince, things are bad."
Small Council.
Daeron sat in the Hand's seat, representing his father Aerys and the Hand, Tywin, at the meeting.
"Tumbleton has fallen. Robert's rebels are advancing relentlessly toward Fawnton."
Maester Aemon looked stunned as he read out the newly received news.
Daeron's head was full of question marks.
Robert's strategic objective was Fawnton; how could he suddenly change course and capture Tumbleton?
"Where is Lord Tywin?"
Earl Qarlton asked blankly.
Maester Aemon's frown deepened the more he read, until he was eventually too ashamed to speak it aloud.
"Let me."
Varys took the message and said: "The Royalists' army has been routed. Only Ser Tygett remains with a portion of the Lannister army, maintaining their strength and lingering outside Fawnton."
"Where is Tywin!?"
Daeron's face was grim; he only wanted to know what Tywin had been doing.
Tumbleton was not a major military stronghold and wasn't even on Robert's line of attack.
How did Tywin manage to lose Tumbleton and let the army be scattered?
"Well—"
Varys paused, hesitating: "According to the intelligence, Ser Tygett hasn't found Lord Tywin either, but there is another letter here."
As he spoke, he took a report from Green Valley City from Maester Aemon's hand.
Green Valley City was adjacent to Fawnton, forming a triangle with Tumbleton and Fawnton; it was a noble castle in The Reach.
Varys said with a strange expression: "According to Lord Meadows of Green Valley City, Lord Tywin arrived at the gates of Green Valley City alone on horseback."
"However, as his identity could not be confirmed, Lord Meadows did not open the gates and kept him outside."
Daeron's vision went dark; he nearly fainted on the spot.
Good grief, what a character!
Tygett had broken through the encirclement and was still searching the world for his elder brother.
Meanwhile, Tywin had traversed the chaotic armies and reached Green Valley City all by himself.
"Prince, now is not the time to fret over Lord Tywin's whereabouts. The situation at the front is urgent."
Earl Qarlton quickly reminded him.
Based on the army's movements, The Reach coalition was about to arrive at Ashford. At a marching speed of 20 to 30 kilometers a day, it would take at least several days to reinforce Fawnton.
Under the assault of Robert's rebels, it would be difficult for Fawnton to hold out until then.
Daeron took a deep breath, his reason prevailing as he made a decision: "Send word to Randyll Tarly, tell him to lead a troop of light cavalry and reinforce Fawnton day and night."
"Then send word to Tygett. Tell him to stop looking for Tywin and go harass Robert's coalition in The Kingswood to ease the pressure of the siege on Fawnton."
"I'll write them now."
Varys pulled out paper and pen, and after finishing, handed them to Maester Aemon.
Daeron arranged everything in an orderly fashion, then stood up and headed straight for the Dragonpit.
Distant water cannot quench a nearby fire.
Relying on Randyll and Tygett's reinforcements, Fawnton likely wouldn't last that long.
Riding Caraxes, he would be faster than any other unit.
..
Fawnton.
The castle, built against a mountain, was engulfed in war. Tens of thousands of Stormlands rebels were laying siege, surrounding it in layer upon layer.
Robert stood on a distant hill, watching his soldiers assault the city with frustration.
The reason Westeros built castles instead of the palaces and manors found in the Free Cities was to sacrifice comfort for improved defense.
Robert was exceptionally brave, but his deployment had been hasty and poorly prepared.
The tens of thousands in Stormlands coalition lacked proper siege engines.
In his helplessness, he could only send most of the coalition toward Ashford first, while leading ten thousand men himself to besiege Fawnton.
The castle was too small; the ten thousand men had to take turns attacking in waves.
"My Lord Duke, it's estimated the three lords won't be able to hold back much longer and will come out for a decisive battle."
Earl Ralph had a sharp eye.
The castle's small size was both its strength and its weakness.
With several thousand men in the three-family coalition, Lord Caron's castle simply couldn't accommodate them all.
Stormlands coalition's lightning strike had caught Fawnton off guard, quickly seizing the initiative in the war.
Once the soldiers inside could no longer suppress their anger and fear, they would charge out for a counterattack.
That would be the best moment for victory.
"I leave this to you. Notify me when the gates open."
Robert was more perceptive than he looked; he had already noticed the signs, but he simply didn't like this method.
The three lords were all Stormlanders.
In a fair fight on the battlefield, regardless of casualties, everything could be settled after victory, and the lord-vassal relationship could be rebuilt.
Once it turned into a siege, the meaning changed.
The soldiers on both sides would be left with indelible hatred.
The next day, at dawn.
"Ram the gates!!"
Stormlands coalition sent forward their vanguard. Over thirty men worked together to carry a massive wooden ram, holding shields over their heads as they rushed to the gates of Castle Caron.
Ignoring the arrows and stones falling from the walls, they struck the gates with no regard for their lives.
Boom! Boom!
Under the impact of the battering ram, the iron-studded, iron-clad gates shuddered repeatedly and began to loosen.
"We can't wait any longer. The city is about to fall."
Lord Caron had held out for a day and a night, and as he watched the gates failing, his heart sank to the bottom.
They had done their absolute best, but the Iron Throne's reinforcements were nowhere to be seen.
Rather than sitting and waiting for death, it was better to take a chance and charge out while the rebels were exhausted from the siege.
"I will lead the charge!"
Count Feier was a man of great stature, wearing full armor and wielding a morning star.
His son, "Silver Axe" Phil, was equally strong, wielding a battle-axe as he stood guard by his father's side.
Earl Grandison nodded silently, mentally preparing for the chaotic slaughter.
His uncle, "Old Harlan Grandison," was the recently deceased former Kingsguard.
The Grandison family enjoyed the favor of the Iron Throne; they could not shrink back at the critical moment, nor could they dishonor his uncle's legacy in the Kingsguard.
Boom! Boom!
Stormlands coalition's assault grew even more fierce, and the iron-clad gates were now warped and deformed.
"Harder! Once Fawnton falls, we'll have a grand feast!"
Robert rode his Great-horned Elk onto the battlefield, raising his warhammer high to inspire morale.
It wouldn't be long before this castle fell.
No one could stop his army's southward march or his plan to block The Reach coalition.
"Ready!!"
Lord Caron roared, leading his men to stand behind the gates.
They only waited for the gates to break to charge out and fight for their lives.
"One, two, three—strike!"
The shouting outside was constant, and the iron-clad gates were visibly shattered.
"Almost there!"
Robert gripped his warhammer tight, channeling his Life Force to strengthen his muscles, standing ready at all times.
Suddenly, a sound of breaking air came from the horizon.
"Hmm?"
Robert turned his head in confusion and saw a small red dot flying in the sky.
The red dot moved incredibly fast, breaking through layers of mist and clouds as it rapidly approached.
Robert's eyes widened as he suddenly realized it was a giant Red Dragon.
"Dragon!!"
He let out a loud roar to warn the besieging soldiers.
Daeron arrived in haste on Caraxes, flying over the uneven hills to reach the skies above Fawnton.
Seeing the situation below, he did not hesitate for a moment.
Daeron blurted out: "Dragonfire!!"
"Screee—!"
Caraxes let out a piercing shriek, his molten-gold slit pupils filled with killing intent as he spewed forth raging Dragonfire like a volcanic eruption.
In an instant, the besieging soldiers were struck by the crimson Dragonfire, screaming as their bodies were consumed by fire.
And that wasn't all.
Caraxes circled low, and with another blast of Dragonfire, he scorched large swaths of the army, the screams rising one after another.
"It's a dragon!"
Lord Caron looked up suddenly, instantly overjoyed.
Count Feier rushed forward and roared: "Prince Daeron is here! Charge out with me!"
Boom! The city gates were knocked down by the defenders themselves, and several thousand soldiers swarmed out. The lethargy they had shown while defending the city was gone, replaced by the ferocity of wolves and tigers.
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