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The soldiers of the Golden Company all looked up at the sky, watching the dragon fly past; it was an undeniable fact.
The Golden Flash soaring high across the sky was like a blazing, bright sun.
Viserysburg truly had a dragon, and the dragon belonged to King Viserys.
"How is it possible? There's a dragon that big?"
"It really is a dragon. I just saw a golden storm."
"Am I seeing things? It's really a dragon."
"King Viserys, a true Dragonlord," the mercenaries whispered.
When the Golden Company was founded, the dragons had long since vanished.
If they had dragons, perhaps the Targaryens wouldn't have had to go into exile, nor would they have slowly lost their divinity.
For these mercenaries who had been in exile for generations, the dragon represented a miracle their ancestors had never encountered.
Overall, with a dragon, the possibility of them landing in Westeros increased significantly.
Ecstasy, doubt, and even apprehension spread through the barracks, from one tent to another, and from one mercenary to the next.
The largest tent in the Golden Company belonged to the Captain-General. It was sewn with gold thread and surrounded by a ring of spears, each topped with a gilded skull.
One skull was particularly large and strangely shaped; the one below it was only the size of a child's fist. Maelys the Monstrous and his unnamed brother.
The other skulls had few distinguishing features, except that some had been hammered to death, their skulls cracked, while another had neat, sharp teeth.
"Things are happening too fast," Myles Toyne said, stroking the railing of the watchtower. His gaze was fixed on the White City like a hawk's, his expression grave. "If the war is like King Viserys's own dance, it is not entirely a good thing for my mercenaries."
The ten thousand soldiers of the Golden Company were originally very valuable. They were not hastily summoned vassal knights and peasants; they were the descendants of Bittersteel.
Even for a mercenary company, discipline was the core of the Golden Company.
With these ten thousand soldiers, they could have left a deep impression on Viserys and returned to the home and lands they dreamed of.
But with Viserys's side suddenly possessing a dragon, their value decreased accordingly.
"There was no other way; he really went to the Valyrian Ruins, a place cursed by the gods..." Griffin said softly.
"There's no mistake about it," Myles nodded. "That's also what I'm most worried about. We may not be facing a mortal, but a man full of mysteries."
"Are you afraid?" Griffin looked at Myles.
"The truth is always a sharp blade, my old friend. For a mercenary, boldness and caution are sometimes not contradictory," Myles said. "What's terrifying isn't longbows, swords, or axes, but more eccentric things that we cannot resist."
"But he is also a mortal. In my heart, he is still Rhaegar's spoiled younger brother," Griffin emphasized.
"You've become more mature and steady, Griffin. Even your enemies, Duke Tywin and The Usurper, would find you unfamiliar. Except for matters regarding Rhaegar, you lose your composure too easily," Myles sighed.
A person's essence is very hard to change.
"Will you go see Rhaegar's brother again and reconsider, Griffin?" Myles asked. "Though the brothers are different, the world says Viserys's temperament and appearance surpass Rhaegar's. Rhaegar had indigo eyes; Viserys's are pale purple."
"No, Viserys is not Rhaegar. No one can equal him; he is the only one," Griffin shook his head.
There could be many Targaryens in the world, but there was only one Rhaegar.
So Myles stopped speaking. He felt that Griffin's feelings for Rhaegar were like a form of attachment and nostalgia, surpassing even that of obsessed lovers.
Emotion is the great enemy of one's career; it has been so since ancient times, in the East and the West.
Griffin looked at the walls of the White City. Had the shadow of the dragon reappeared?
The world knew that a dragon was an unmatched war machine, the true crown of a Dragonlord.
Griffin absolutely could not let Young Aegon be exposed. He didn't dare speculate on how Aegon's uncle, Viserys III, would act.
Viserys was handsome, brave, and elegant, but he did not lack the cunning, ruthlessness, and ambition of a ruler.
Without various talents, it would have been impossible for Viserys to leave Braavos and start from scratch, flourishing in Andalos.
Some said he was the second coming of the conqueror, tall and possessed of kingly charisma. Others called him the Dragon and Butcher of Andalos.
Perhaps Viserys would place Aegon in an important position, or perhaps he would be like those fierce uncles of the Dragonlord Family—Maegor or Daemon—and kill his own kin with his own hands.
Griffin did not dare to make such a gamble.
Griffin had never thought of defecting to Viserys; he only remembered every little detail of Rhaegar.
Back then, he was too young and too proud. The Mad King appointed him Hand of the King and gave him command of the royal army, and he was determined not to fail that trust, nor to fail Rhaegar's love. He wanted to personally slay the rebel leader and be immortalized in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.
But fate was so cruel, making him fall short at Stoney Sept.
Fortunately, fortunately, he saw that glimmer of hope.
"We will succeed," Griffin said, not knowing if he was comforting himself or Myles.
"Let's hope so," Myles nodded.
Years ago, Griffin wouldn't have dared to imagine there was still a glimmer of victory.
The Stormlands were incredibly loyal to House Baratheon and King Robert, and there was that massive alliance of the Lion, Wolf, Fish, Falcon, and Stag.
But now, there were finally signs of change. Dragons and fire, and even the great army of Andalos.
The closer one is to success, the more patience is required. Perhaps it was immoral to do so, but Griffin knew it was all for his prince; he could not fail his son again.
Griffin had once been constrained by morality, but now he had also learned to be ruthless.
Myles looked at Griffin. He hadn't expected the words he originally used to advise Griffin would instead cause him to fall completely into obsession.
Perhaps he was always that kind of person, living only for Rhaegar.
Regarding the future, Griffin was full of ambition; he wanted to select another bride for his Sun Prince.
A worthy princess—Rhaenys and Daenerys were both excellent candidates, healthy and both female members of the True Dragon family.
Prince Rhaegar's wedding was still fresh in Griffin's mind. How could Elia be worthy of him?
She was naturally frail and sickly, and pregnancy and childbirth made her even more weak. After giving birth to Princess Rhaenys, the mother was bedridden for half a year, and giving birth to Prince Aegon nearly cost her her life. Afterward, the maesters told Rhaegar she could not bear any more children.
Griffin did not intend to repeat the mistake; he would find a proper marriage for the prince.
Once the prince returned to the ancestral Red Keep, his mission would be over. He only wanted to return to his ancestral fortress, the place where he and Rhaegar had walked together.
...
On the walls of the White City's Viserysburg, Viserys glanced in the direction of the Golden Company's encampment.
What would the Golden Company do?
Viserys thought to himself. In the current Golden Company, Jon Connington's friend Myles was still there, rather than that cunning Harry.
Viserys didn't exactly trust them either; he was just waiting for their next move.
However, it didn't matter. There was a saying that while a thief might plan for a thousand days, one couldn't be on guard for a thousand days.
"With my attacks on the two camps today, the Tyroshi have lost their horses and supplies. The dothraki have lost their supplies, but they still have many horses. Because of this, this allied army definitely cannot retreat directly; they will have to find a way to have a decisive battle with us," Viserys analyzed.
"Wear them down, toy with them, and then consume them," The Red Viper's eyes lit up.
"Exactly," Viserys nodded.
Speed is precious in war, but Viserys's series of maneuvers ensured that neither the Dothraki nor the Tyroshi Alliance Army could move quickly. Coupled with their fury, if they didn't leave now, they wouldn't have time to escape the battlefield.
But according to Viserys's understanding, this army against him would still persist for a while longer, and that would be their end.
"Pass on my orders," Viserys emphasized again. "Everyone is to hold their positions and not sally out. Continue to rely on catapults and longbowmen to eliminate the incoming enemies."
"By your command, Your Majesty!" the knights shouted enthusiastically.
"Argos," Viserys instructed. "Continue training with the heavy cavalry. If we enter a decisive battle, this will be the key move."
"Rest assured, Your Majesty," Argos promised.
"The boys are about to get rusty; they're all dying to take their blades to those barbarians," Count Donal said.
"Be patient. Eat as usual, drink as usual. Within seven days, it will be time for the decisive battle," Viserys commanded.
"This is to wipe them all out." Hakeem took a deep breath. If the Tyroshi and the Dothraki didn't run now, after being battered for several rounds, it would be a massive battle of annihilation.
Hakeem only now realized that this young king's appetite was also terrifyingly large.
Viserys assigned the most difficult task to himself—a task only a dragon could accomplish.
In addition to cutting off the supply lines of the dothraki and the Tyroshi Alliance Army, Viserys also intended to carry out night raids; that was the most ruthless part.
The Hour of the Wolf, the darkest moment of the day.
Once, the Wolves of the North showed their might in King's Landing, and the pack briefly took control of the city.
And now, the Hour of the Wolf was the moment Viserys completely controlled.
The night sky was pitch black as the stars grew dim.
"Dragonflame!" Sunfyre soared to an extremely high position in the sky, then began to tuck his wings and roar as a blazing, bright golden-red fireball exploded in the sky.
Khal Drogo's khalasar fell into chaos during several rounds of bombardment, and there were even tragedies of men trampling over one another.
Viserys turned the enemy's camp upside down and then continued to fly high.
Viserys quickly arrived at the Tyroshi Alliance Army's camp, starting the fires from the Tyroshi watchtowers, which was also a round of grand Dragonflame bombardment.
As the sounds of slaughter filled the camp, those who were sleeping were forced to flee shirtless in panic and desperation.
"Is this Viserys even human?" Bloodbeard could only curse loudly. "Despicable, shameless coward."
The most sickening thing wasn't the attack itself, but the night raids and ambushes that kept the soldiers' nerves extremely tense.