[Check Out My P4treon For +30 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!! And get chapters before publishing them here for free on my p4treon][https://p4treon.com/ThePlotHoleRefuge]
===
Upon the battlefield before Viserysburg, a song of fire spread everywhere.
Now, the dead bodies flung by the catapults of the Tyroshi Alliance Army no longer streaked across the sky; only the silhouette of the golden magic dragon soared through the heavens.
Human wails and curses drifted from the camp of the Tyroshi Alliance Army. There was no sound of clashing steel, only the shrill screams of the wounded.
This was a symphony of slaughter, and a symphony of defeat.
The most terrifying enemy is the one beyond the reach of the sky; it was a cold-blooded massacre.
The fire-burners were ultimately annihilated. The entire tyroshi camp was covered in the brilliant light of roses and gold—the scent of fire, magic dragons, and the sun.
The catapults had been destroyed, followed by the baggage mules, wagons, and stables.
The knights who dared to flee met an even more miserable end; Dragonflame was omnipresent.
Some tried to gallop away wildly, but the Dragonflame only burned more fiercely.
Terrified horses reared up, throwing their riders. Wailing riders were trampled or burned to death, and the scent of fear permeated the camp.
Wherever the dragon's shadow passed, it brought waves of panic and confusion.
Some horses threw their masters and began running across the fields or through the tents until they collapsed, foaming at the mouth and twitching.
These creatures, imbued with magical color, brought terror to warhorses. Horses feared direwolves, let alone a magic dragon.
Tyrosh's cavalry ranks were also exhausted. In this horrific battlefield, they had lost all initiative.
"The dragon is flying away!"
"The dragon is flying away!"
Viserys did not linger at the tyroshi camp at all. He was flying toward the next battlefield: the dothraki rear camp.
"Stop him!"
"Stop him!" a brave warrior shouted, trying to intercept the magic dragon, but in the chaos, no one answered his cry.
Sparse arrows fell to the ground. In the thick smoke and fear, the dragon's exact position could no longer be found.
Viserys, riding Sunfyre, rose above the clouds once more, and the dragon's roar echoed across the entire plain.
The golden shadow seemed to become an eagle among the clouds, then a black speck like a fly, before vanishing completely.
Viserys heard the howling wind. Fly high, let me fly high, and then drop like a roller coaster.
"A dragon, it's a dragon!"
"Look, the tyroshi catapults are on fire! And their camp too!"
"There's a dragon in the White City!"
Even the dothraki recognized this legendary creature. As they watched the tyroshi Alliance camp burn, they felt a sense of absurdity and shock.
The dothraki prided themselves on being the best horse-riding warriors in the world, but that didn't mean they weren't afraid of fire.
Even the ancient dothraki priests would tell them that before the Doom of Old Valyria, the dothraki were quite pitiful.
Before the rise of the dothraki, Valyria was the only unique universal empire.
"Khal." Drogo's Bloodriders all shielded Khal Drogo's side, with thousands, tens of thousands of Screamers pressed to the front of the formation.
Even if a magic dragon appeared, such a saturated rain of arrows would make it difficult for the dragon to find an accurate opening.
But the sky was high and the clouds were thin; aside from that burning camp, there was no sign of a dragon in the sky.
These cavalrymen couldn't just stare at the sky doing nothing forever.
"Not good, my camp!" Khal Drogo felt a sudden jolt of alarm.
Since the knight riding the magic dragon hadn't attacked him, the most likely possibility was that he had attacked his rear encampment.
These tyroshi were indeed cunning to the core.
The facts were exactly as Drogo suspected; raging fires had already begun to rise from the Dothraki tribe's rear camp.
A dragon flying up while surrounded by Khal Drogo's tens of thousands of archers would be a suicidal piecemeal tactic.
Viserys had mastered the mental spells within the binding incantations, and Sunfyre's scales had not yet reached the thickness of an ancient dragon.
Such a young dragon was known for its speed and agility.
And the tactic Viserys chose was even more vicious: cutting off supplies and burning the camp.
Amidst such terror, he would then move to annihilate the already collapsing enemy and harvest their remaining forces.
Going deep behind enemy lines to sever their food supply and logistics was considered an impossible feat in the art of war.
But there was no other way; Viserys was currently the world's only air force.
"Dragonflame! Dragonflame!"
Viserys commanded.
Sunfyre roared with joy, its shadow circling above Khal Drogo's rear tents.
Khal Drogo's camp was vast and wide, stretching for several miles.
The Dothraki were accustomed to using grass to build palaces; it was only for great figures like the Khal and the Kos that the tents were larger.
Golden-red fire descended from the sky, and then glowing, bright fireballs exploded one after another. The dry straw twisted and bloomed in the tongues of fire like brilliant, fierce flowers.
"Damn tyroshi!"
"Despicable Dragon Rider!" The Dothraki Screamers left behind let out desperate roars, running out from their grass tents or watchtowers.
Viserys saw the dried horse meat strips and fermented mare's milk prepared for the Dothraki; these were their provisions.
Viserys also saw the fodder wagons prepared for the Dothraki's fine horses—wagon after wagon of top-quality fodder, a necessity for the Dothraki on the march.
Viserys no longer hesitated; whether it was for man or horse, he burned it all.
Sunfyre's silhouette patrolled and roared above the tents as Dragonflame rolled forth.
The camp built of dry straw was inherently suited for the burning of magic dragon fire; it was a typical flammable material.
Thus, the raging fire faced no obstacles, and the Dothraki Screamers who dared to counterattack wailed in the flames.
They flailed about before being swallowed by the golden-red fire.
In the environment of sky-high smoke and choking odors, the sparse arrows fired at the dragon were completely useless.
Sunfyre spat fire and then spread its wings to fly high, like a vigorous falcon, a cunning and fierce hunter.
The bright flames made movement difficult. Many women and children who sensed something was wrong early on fled the tents to seek cover on the ground.
Viserys's main task was to burn the dothraki's logistics; he didn't pay much mind to these ordinary elderly and weak.
Sunfyre flapped its leathery wings. Viserys led Sunfyre in a massive burning spree across Khal Drogo's deep rear, then once again departed grandly.
The magic dragon's silhouette roared as it charged into the sky, leaving behind another ruined camp for the dothraki.
"Fly!" Viserys commanded. It was the most beautiful word in the world.
Viserys rose with the magic dragon into the clouds, leaving behind wide eyes on the ground staring incessantly at the sky.
At the same moment, the shaken Bloodbeard, his face covered in dirt, finally surveyed his army amidst the panic.
The soldiers were also a chaotic mess; some had even dug pits in the ground to avoid being burned by the dragon.
"Gone... it's all gone." Vargo Hoat of the Brave Companions ran to the side of the distraught Bloodbeard.
Burned away were not just the catapults and baggage, but also the wealth the mercenaries had hoarded for years; this was a total loss of their foundation.
Vargo was a tall, thin man with a goatee, wearing a necklace made of coins from the various places he had fought.
"The opponent has... has a Dragon Rider." Vargo had a bit of a lisp, making his speech quite troublesome.
"Give me back my catapults! Give me back my commander-in-chief! Give me back my baggage train!" Bloodbeard grabbed the Goat by the neck.
the Goat angrily pushed Bloodbeard's hand away and looked at him. "Are you... still a warrior? Bloodbeard..."
Bloodbeard was so shaken his resolve was crumbling. How could this battle continue?
Viserys had burned their catapults and almost all their horses and baggage supplies with a single fire.
For an army of about six thousand, having no logistics meant they would soon become a broken force.
The survivors gathered around Bloodbeard. Several captains of the Stormcrows and the remaining tyroshi commanders were there.
...
These people sat on folding chairs, still shaken, surrounded by gathered longbowmen and Scorpions.
"Look over there, the dothraki camp is on fire too..." a mercenary pointed at the even larger flames consuming the Dothraki camp.
"The Dothraki's logistics are gone too..." Bloodbeard wailed.
The thought of a starving, bankrupt army huddled on the wasteland was chilling.
"What do we do?" Bloodbeard nervously wiped the dirt from his face. He used to be proud of his red beard, but now it just felt in the way, and he wanted to trim it short immediately.
"What do you say?" Bloodbeard looked at the Goat and the others. They looked at each other in silence.
"No food, no water, and no horses," one mercenary suggested. "Why don't we just leave? As things stand, even if we ask the Archon for reinforcements, they won't arrive in time."
"Leaving is a good idea. But our losses—the Archon's brother is dead, and the wealth we've accumulated over the years..."
"I have another idea. Why don't we... since we can't go back to Tyrosh, Andalos will do," a mercenary said sinisterly.
If you can't beat them, join them—a true maxim.
Pfft! A dagger sank into the mercenary's back; death followed like a shadow.
"Gentlemen, we have only one path left: either become slaves to the evil dragon, or stand together. Stand together and slay the magic dragon."
The one who acted was Daario Naharis, the third-in-command of the Stormcrows, who was flamboyantly dressed even by tyroshi standards.
Daario's beard was styled into three points and dyed blue, matching the color of his eyes and his curly hair that fell to his neck. His pointed mustache was painted gold.
His clothes were various shades of yellow: cream-colored frothy Myrish lace poked out from his collar and cuffs, his doublet was sewn with dandelion-shaped brass medallions, and his high leather boots, reaching his thighs, were decorated with gold patterns. Soft yellow kidskin gloves were tucked into a belt made of gilded rings.
Only his fingernails were painted with blue enamel.
"We slay the magic dragon?" Many mercenaries gasped, but the ruthless radical had intimidated them.
"Well... well done... though perhaps you could have... separated his limbs..." the Goat sneered.
"What do you mean?" Bloodbeard looked at Daario.
"We have no choice," Daario said. "We have no horses and no baggage. If the enemy or the Andal villagers catch us, we're dead. And since the mercenaries' years of accumulated wealth were burned, the chance of mutiny has increased greatly. If we leave in a panic, we'll just be paupers..."
"The Archon, the Archon will provide the necessary compensation for everyone," a tyroshi high official stepped forward to promise. If this military gamble failed, the Archon of Tyrosh would have no place to be buried.
Even if he had to squeeze every penny from the people, he had to keep the mercenaries fighting.
"My opinion is simple: I will never work for an evil dragon," Daario snorted. "Andalos is an abolitionist country, and don't forget, the dragon burned our supplies and savings..."
"A big... big dragon is powerful, but a small dragon... a small dragon is not... impossible to defeat," the Goat said after thinking.
"The Myrish have killed Dragon Riders before, and the The Three Daughters's fleet has shot down similar small dragons and riders... When it comes down to it, we can die fleeing and destitute, or we can go out in a blaze of glory and plunder. We must choose..." Daario proposed.
"Let's do it!"
"There's no escaping anyway. The enemy has cavalry and a magic dragon; we'll just turn into roast pigs, Commander..."
===
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 165 on my patreon, go check it out
exclusive 18+ character images, and early chapters, please visit my Patreon. Thanks for your support!
p4treon.com/ThePlotHoleRefuge
if you want more updates == supports with power stones
Every 25 Power Stones == Bonus Chapter
every three 5-star reviews == Bonus Chapter