Chapter 143: The Battle of the Dragonlords
Hofa looked up at the ever-growing silhouette of Vermithor and twirled his spear before saying to the final candidate:
"Stop staring at the Dragon. I hope you can hold out until His Highness arrives, Reville Hightower."
Reville Hightower, gripping a two-handed greatsword, reluctantly tore his gaze away from the Dragon overhead and focused on Hofa.
These candidates for the Bloodsworn Brothers had already undergone countless rounds of training. Their ultimate goal was to face Hofa and Aslan, two genuine top-tier warriors.
In truth, ever since the tourney at Summerhall, the names of these two young men had been sung across the Seven Kingdoms by countless bards.
Especially Hofa the Lawkeeper, who had earned great fame by winning the jousting championship. After unhorsing Lord Borros Baratheon, he had been nicknamed the "Stag Hunter" throughout the Stormlands.
Of course, because of his mastery of the spear, many also called him "Longspear."
He possessed numerous other titles as well, including "Blade of House Varezys."
Yet among friends and family, the nickname most often used was the one given by his younger brother, Addam the Lawkeeper:
"Stinky Iron."
The reason was simple—Hofa was stubborn beyond reason.
Although everyone knew he was actually a very easygoing person, nobody could stand someone who constantly wore a stern expression and followed rules with near-fanatical rigidity.
Aslan Rondell had likewise proven his martial prowess after defeating Ser Criston Cole.
As a result, he earned the prestigious title of the "Silver Lion."
However, except during training sessions, he rarely sparred personally with the young men under his instruction.
The role of the villain was generally left to Hofa.
"Little Hightower, watch Big Brother Hofa's footwork!"
Suchi shouted with folded arms.
Previously, he had focused entirely on Hofa's spear and failed to notice the subtle techniques used to draw an opponent's eyes away from critical movements.
That mistake had allowed Hofa to knock the arakh from his hand.
Otherwise, he could have lasted much longer.
The black-haired youth cautiously raised his greatsword.
He continuously swept it around his body, blocking one casual thrust after another.
He dared not launch an attack.
After watching all the previous matches, he knew exactly how terrifying Hofa's spear truly was.
Especially since the spear itself was forged from Valyrian steel.
Had their own weapons not been made from Bloodsteel, they likely would have shattered upon the first collision.
Even so, the damage was considerable.
Suchi's arakh was nearly broken.
Joffrey Cafferen's flail had been pierced through and nearly destroyed.
York Waters's beloved longsword had snapped completely.
Only Assor Baetimos's "Crab Tide" remained intact because it too was forged from Valyrian steel.
Reville knew he could not continue defending forever.
If he did, his greatsword would become the next weapon to break.
Though still young, he possessed exceptional strength.
Otherwise, he would never have been able to wield a greatsword for so long.
"Reville, careful! Cross your blade!"
Joffrey Cafferen shouted anxiously.
Instinctively, Reville crossed his greatsword.
Sure enough, Hofa altered his attack.
The spear transformed from a thrust into a sweeping strike, narrowly missing Reville's body.
"Little Hightower, now! Close the distance!"
York Waters's somewhat hoarse voice rang out.
Seizing the instant before Hofa could withdraw his spear, Reville lowered his head, bent his waist, stepped forward, and swung upward with all his strength, attempting to finish the fight in a single blow.
"Reville, stop! Big Brother Hofa is withdrawing his spear!"
This time it was Assor who warned him.
Reville immediately restrained his strength and pressed the greatsword downward.
As expected, he intercepted Hofa's elusive spear.
Unfortunately, luck was not on his side.
With a twist of Hofa's wrist, the greatsword—which had already suffered countless impacts—finally reached its limit.
It snapped cleanly in half.
Reville immediately abandoned the ruined weapon and prepared to rush into hand-to-hand combat.
"That's enough, Hofa."
Aslan smiled.
"He's lasted long enough."
He did not stop the other four from helping Reville.
After all, they had all once received assistance from one another when facing Dragonzel, Valarr, and Lyn Valtygon, who had not returned to Dragon's Nest City for quite some time.
Hofa rotated his spear and lightly tapped Reville with the shaft.
Looking at the grimacing youth on the ground, he nodded.
"You pass, Reville. Congratulations."
Reville Hightower lay sprawled across the ground and finally let out a long sigh of relief.
After Jacaerys's death, he and Quentyn Manwoody had both served as Dragonzel's squires.
Unlike the scholarly, frail, and thin Quentyn, Reville had sworn from the day he arrived in Dragon's Nest City that he would become Dragonzel's sharpest sword.
Only then could he repay Dragonzel for helping his widowed mother preserve their family's livelihood.
Now, his wish had finally come true.
"Not bad. You've picked them quickly."
Valarr, who had come solely to watch the excitement, nodded approvingly.
Recently, he had made his daughter Daenerys cry loudly.
As a result, his furious wife, Leira, had chased him from their chambers.
With nowhere to go, he had wandered aimlessly.
He originally wanted to find Ray.
Unfortunately, that crafty younger brother had once again locked himself inside the library of Laurel Leaf Tower.
Valarr had no interest in searching shelf by shelf.
Thus, he visited Silverwing first before returning to observe the selection of the new Bloodsworn Brothers.
"Come on! Let me have a turn!"
Valarr eagerly prepared to step into the arena.
Before he could, Dragonzel grabbed him by the shoulder, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Having just emerged from Dragon Crystal Tower, Dragonzel smiled.
"I heard you made Daenerys cry?"
"No, no, Big Brother, I just... I just..."
Valarr hurriedly explained.
"It was an accident. I didn't realize the little one was so attached to that toy."
"You know perfectly well that Leira treasures that daughter more than her own life."
Dragonzel released him helplessly.
"And you made Daenerys cry right in front of her. Who else would she hit if not you?"
Valarr's enthusiasm immediately vanished.
He could only follow behind his elder brother.
Reville secretly sighed in relief.
Having served Dragonzel for years, he understood exactly how terrifying Valarr was.
Only Aslan and Hofa working together could reliably defeat him.
As for the five of them?
Even if Valarr didn't use Black Widow, they would likely pay an enormous price for victory.
Avoiding that fight was undoubtedly good news.
Then Dragonzel spoke.
One sentence instantly chilled Reville's heart.
"Come."
Dragonzel smiled at the five young men.
"The five of you together."
"Show me what you've learned."
Slowly, he drew Silverblood.
King's Landing, Dragonpit
Daemon dismounted from Caraxes.
He gestured for the Dragonkeepers and Dragon Guards to withdraw before walking to Caraxes's head and pressing his forehead against the Dragon's crimson scales.
"Caraxes."
"Did you remember everything I told you?"
Caraxes lifted his long neck.
He roared toward the heavens, indicating that he remembered.
Daemon stepped back several paces.
He signaled that the Dragon could enter the Dragonpit.
"Have all the chains been unlocked?"
Daemon asked a Dragon Guard.
The heavily armored guard looked puzzled but still answered.
"Yes, Your Grace. Every chain has been unlocked."
"And the seaward gate?"
"It is open."
The Dragonkeeper stationed within the Dragonpit immediately became anxious.
"Your Grace, if the Dragons escape after the gates are opened, none of us can bear the consequences."
"It will be fine."
Daemon remained calm.
"Caraxes will obey my commands."
"As for Syrax, she'd rather sleep than fly."
He lifted his head toward the sky.
Silently, he prayed that everything would proceed smoothly.
Moments later, thunderous Dragon roars erupted from deep within the Dragonpit.
A shrill screech followed.
Then came an angry roar.
Then two weaker cries.
If translated loosely, the exchange might have sounded something like this:
Caraxes: From today onward, I rule the Dragonpit. Obey me and you'll be fed daily without chains.
Dreamfyre: Who do you think you are? Why should we listen to you?
Syrax: Argue all you want. I still need to lay eggs.
Moondancer and Morghul: Doesn't concern us. We'll follow whoever wins.
Approximately.
Possibly.
Maybe.
Soon afterward, the pale-blue Dragon burst from the Dragonpit's seaward gate.
Her roar echoed over Blackwater Bay.
Half of King's Landing was startled.
Fortunately, the Gold Cloaks had already posted notices throughout the city warning citizens to remain indoors whenever possible.
Patrols had likewise been increased.
Caraxes shot from the Dragonpit like crimson lightning.
He continuously stretched his neck toward Dreamfyre, hissing provocatively.
Finally, Dreamfyre had enough.
She ascended sharply before diving downward, attempting to seize Caraxes's slender neck with her jaws.
Blood Wyrm twisted away effortlessly.
Enraged, Caraxes unleashed a torrent of Dragonfire.
The flames failed to seriously injure Dreamfyre, but the impact drove the century-old Dragon toward the sea.
Dreamfyre struggled back into the air and retaliated with her own Dragonfire.
Again Blood Wyrm dodged.
Again Dreamfyre was struck.
Again she nearly crashed into the sea.
Several exchanges later, Dreamfyre finally abandoned caution.
Charging directly through Blood Wyrm's flames, she attempted to teach the younger Dragon a lesson with tooth and claw.
Caraxes proved faster.
More agile.
And infinitely more vicious.
Though his serpentine body appeared fragile, it concealed terrifying danger.
One claw seized Dreamfyre's back.
His tail wrapped around her hind legs.
His long neck twisted around hers, carefully avoiding the spikes lining her throat.
Dreamfyre instantly panicked.
She struggled desperately.
Caraxes responded by blasting her neck at point-blank range with Dragonfire.
When she saw Blood Wyrm opening his jaws, clearly preparing to bite her throat, Dreamfyre finally surrendered.
Slowly, she descended onto the flat ground behind the Dragonpit.
Blood Wyrm remained coiled around her the entire time.
Meanwhile, far away in Summerhall, within the Sept of the Seven Dragons—
Helaena, dressed in the robes of a septa, suddenly ceased her prayers.
She raised her head toward the sky.
Then she smiled.
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