Ice and Fire: Reign of the Dragon.

Chapter 436 You Will Fall from the Sky

Rosso didn't even have time to put on his leather armor, grabbed the jewel-studded harpoon and rushed out of the tent. The scene before him made his blood curdle: his warriors were running on the shaking pier like headless flies, and the huge shadow in the sky was making a second dive.

At the same time, three hundred white cavalrymen lined up at the edge of the swamp. Commander Ser Hoster Blackwood raised his blood-stained sword, which was proof that they had just wiped out the outer outpost.

"Your Highness has driven them out," he roared. "Remember, leave no one alive!"

The cavalry divided into three teams and rushed into the shallows to encircle the fleeing bandits. The horses of the White Robe Army were specially trained and could move freely in the knee-deep water. The muffled sound of spears piercing chests, the wails of the dying and the roars of dragons intertwined, turning this peaceful swamp into a slaughterhouse.

Rosso and his cronies jumped onto a flat-bottomed boat and tried to escape by water. He paddled frantically when he suddenly heard a sarcastic laugh from above his head.

"Leaving now?" Maekar flew low over the Sheep Thief, his dragon wings almost brushing the mast. "Isn't your Brotherhood known for 'wherever a river flows, it's your hunting ground'?"

The dragon's tail swept across, and the mast broke. As Lotho struggled in the cold water, he saw Prince Maekar looking down at him, his violet eyes burning with something more terrifying than dragon flames.

"Come on! Dragon Rider!" Rosso raised the harpoon, water dripping down the steel barb. This weapon had pierced the throat of a knight whose breastplate was decorated with a jeweled trout, and it was tempered with the venom of a swamp frog.

The sheep thief neighed in contempt, but Maekar unexpectedly slid off the dragon's back. He drew the Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre, which his brother had lent him. The blade rippled dark red in the morning light.

"I'll give you a chance," the prince grinned, "if you beat me, I'll let you go."

Rosso's harpoon stabbed out with a sound of breaking through the air, but Maekar dodged it sideways. The black fire sword drew a graceful arc, first cutting off the wooden handle of the harpoon, and then cutting off Rosso's right hand. When the bandit leader knelt in the shallows and screamed, Maekar stepped on his shoulder.

"Do you know where you are wrong?" The prince put the blade against Rosso's trembling neck. "You shouldn't think you can escape punishment when King's Landing has already taken action to eliminate the bandits. Learn more about being a friend of the poor. If you really raised the banner of rebellion for the poor, then I respect you. Unfortunately, you are not."

As the sword flashed, the last flag of the Fish Hunting Brotherhood was completely engulfed by the dragon flames.

The handling of the Storm Riders, the strongest gang in Stormland, was just as swift.

In the rainforest of the Stormlands, these well-armed desperadoes occupied a sturdy knight's castle, thinking that the stone walls would protect them.

They are wrong.

They had forgotten the lesson of Harren the Black.

The dragon flames of the sheep thieves ignited the wooden structure of the castle, and the dragon flames of the old dragon also melted the stone, roasting most of the robber knights alive in the castle, and Lord Lyonor Baratheon personally led the army to block every escape route. When the last robber knight was nailed to an oak tree by a spear, the bandit gang also came to an end.

No one had expected the swiftness of Meka's attack. When Meka directed his spearhead at the "Don't Want to Die Rally" that was preparing to move, the huge team was blocked by the well-prepared White Robe Army before it even had time to break up into small groups.

The pre-dawn mist enveloped the wasteland of the king's territory, and the dew on the dead grass reflected the dying stars. Maekar Targaryen stood on a high place, looking at the camp of the "Don't Want to Die Rally" in the distance. Thousands of people spread across the plain like a plague, and the bonfires were dotted like fireflies flying on a rotting corpse.

"They think they can survive by having more people." Maekar sneered, stroking the rough scales of the sheep thieves with his fingers. "Foolish."

His plan was simple: hire civilians and merchants to disguise themselves as refugees and sneak into the camp, spreading rumors of "royal pardon." When the core members of the gathering began to suppress the riots, dragon flames would fall from the sky, and four hundred elite cavalry would crush the scattered mob like a hammer.

Meka's strategy was very effective. The "No Death Rally", which was originally a loose group, fell into chaos almost overnight.

The first wave of blows that followed came earlier than anyone expected.

The roar of the sheep thieves tore through the morning mist, and a peat-colored dragon swooped down, spewing flames that instantly engulfed the command tent of the gathering. Before the screams could be heard, the second wave of dragon flames had already ignited the haystack, and black smoke rose into the sky like a giant python.

"Charge!" Meka's voice exploded amid the sound of the horn.

The white-cloaked soldiers rushed into the chaotic camp like a silver torrent, piercing the bandits who rushed to fight with their spears and crushing the traitors who tried to escape with their iron hooves. The leader of the assembly, a fanatical madman who called himself "Immortal Joe", had just raised his spear when a white-cloaked soldier chopped off his head with a sword.

The mob was almost defeated at the first blow, and the dragon was not even used.

After the battle, the smell of blood and scorched earth filled the tent of Maika. He was wiping the blood stains on the black fire sword when a familiar dragon roar suddenly came from outside the tent.

Jonil Varese opened the curtain. His brown hair was stained with dust, but his blue eyes were surprisingly bright. "I heard that you need the help of a real dragon knight?"

Luciris and Seneoir followed behind him, the silver dragon and laurel leaf emblems on their armor gleaming in the firelight.

Meka raised an eyebrow: "Master Igor is finally willing to let you out?"

"Let go?" Lusiris grinned, "If the situation in the border prince's territory hadn't improved significantly, we wouldn't have the time to support you..."

Senelor tossed Maekar a bag of Brewhaven's fine silver. "My father said, 'Don't let a Targaryen boy take all the credit.'"

Maeka took a big gulp of wine, the hot liquid sliding down his throat. "Just in time, we'll deal with the Hedge Knights tomorrow. Four dragons are much more convenient than one. We can even finish them off in one morning."

However, that night, Hoffa, who was far away in Dragon's Nest City, was awakened by screams.

He dreamed that he was standing on a charred wasteland, the sky burning with strange colors. A peat-colored dragon fell from the clouds, and the dragon blood gushing from its neck was as hot as lava, pouring on the earth and on his hands.

"Hoffa?" Duncan rushed into the bedroom holding a candle. Igor arranged for him to be Hagen's servant and to take care of Hoffa. The tall boy found that the young heir of Varese was staring at his trembling hands, as if they were really covered in blood.

"Send some men after Joniel, Dunk," Hoffa's voice was hoarse as hell. "Tell them to keep the sheep rustlers from flying too low."

Duncan blinked in confusion: "But the three adults have already..."

"Now! Please!"

Hoffa almost screamed.

(End of this chapter)