Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord.

Chapter 223 The Battle of Changhu!

River Valley City, Midsummer Hall.

In front of the magnificent palace with its blue bricks and gray tiles, there is a grand courtyard paved with white marble.

Bang! Bang!
The crisp sound of the hammer striking the chopping board was incessant, and sparks flew everywhere like brilliant fireworks.

With his arms bare, Imon swung his forging hammer repeatedly, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Roar--"

Vomisol lay prostrate in the courtyard, watching people come and go carrying copper ore, spewing dragonfire to melt the mountain of copper ore.

The old patriarch of the Firesmith Clan, with a stern face, directed the strong and robust young men to collect molten copper.

Using a specially made wooden-handled steel ladle, the molten copper flowing everywhere was scooped up and, after it solidified slightly, was neatly stacked next to His Highness the Prince's furnace.

Imon continuously refined and quenched the copper blocks, fusing them together into one.

The only bronze bell he had was melted down and hammered into it.

This process was repeated, and the prototype of a bronze throne gradually took shape.

Aemon put down his forging hammer, took out a Valyrian dagger, and began to carve orderly, burning, and solid inscriptions along the lines he had already planned in his mind.

After the final stroke was carved, the muscular upper body looked as if it had been washed clean.

Emon breathed a sigh of relief, managing to calm his tense nerves.

Subsequently, dragon patterns were engraved on the front of the throne's back.

There are three dragons in total, each with a different appearance and size.

Details such as the horned crown and body shape indicate that they correspond to Vomisol, Silverwing, and Gray Shadow, respectively.

Three giant dragons belonging to River Valley Town coiled above an isolated mountain adjacent to a lake.

Bang!

The throne is topped with an irregularly shaped piece of fire ore, which is fitted with a forging hammer.

Under high-temperature melting and casting, the fist-sized pieces of fire concentrate are perfectly integrated, and the molten part flows out in a thin, fiery red line from top to bottom.

Fire ore floats above the carved solitary mountain, like a radiant sun.

The sun dripped red liquid, as if adding a unique waterfall to the lonely mountain.

The imagery of dragons soaring through the air creates a magnificent and imposing macroscopic view.

"gorgeous!"

The old patriarch of the Firesmith Clan was so captivated by it that he could no longer look away.

The bronze-making techniques of the Gaoshan clan stagnated on heavy weapons and elaborate decorations.

This lifelike carving technique is simply unprecedented.

Moreover, for some reason, I developed a sense of reverence for a cold, royal throne.

It's as if the throne holds a hidden, unseen magic.

Noble, mysterious, and majestic.

Imon did not stop, but continued carving on the back of the throne.

Two rune-inscribed Iron Guards stepped out and dispersed the young and middle-aged men who had stopped working.

There is no need for others to stand by here.

On the back of the throne is a small tree with clearly defined lines.

The style is simple, but it is instantly recognizable as the bronze sacred tree inside the Lonely Mountain Dragon Nest.

The sun is gradually setting.

Ding dong!

Exhausted and dizzy, Aemon dropped the Valyrian dagger in his hand and slumped down beside the completed throne to rest.

"Give me a glass of honey water."

After sweating so much, I desperately need to replenish my fluids and sugar.

"Prince."

Janss immediately ran out of the Summer Hall, carrying a kettle and a towel.

"Tons, tons, tons——"

Imon took the water jug ​​and demonstrated what it meant to drink like a cow.

"You must be exhausted."

With a look of heartache in her eyes, Janice knelt down and carefully wiped away his sweat.

"You have to build your own throne."

Amon quenched his thirst and smiled with relief.

Actually, he was waiting for Damon.

However, Damon may have gone back to Rhys to give instructions and hasn't come to Riverdale yet.

Clutching a bronze bell in his hand, Imon was itching to play.

Realizing that his throne room didn't yet have a throne that could be passed down through generations, he decided to build one himself.

"Let's see the results."

Aemon rose from the throne, eager to take a look.

The throne was cast entirely, and the bronze bells incorporated into it gave it a slightly greenish hue, resembling ancient oxidized bronze.

The surface is engraved with burning, durable runes.

Not only is it indestructible, but it can also withstand the test of time.

Targaryens with high bloodline concentration can learn to manipulate the fire magic in their blood and even unleash the power of burning runes.

The back of the chair is decorated with carvings of dragons returning to their nest and a bronze sacred tree.

The creation of bronze and fire is depicted with remarkable depth.

The throne was enormous, as tall as two people stacked on top of each other.

Even if placed on flat ground, an ordinary person would not be able to leap over the armrests of the throne to peer into it.

It has nine steps at the bottom for easy access.

"Not bad, right?"

Aemon was completely satisfied.

He lacked the noble sentiments of the conquerors, deliberately forging the swords and blades of the Iron Throne to force future generations to understand that the throne was not comfortable.

Even its appearance is so distorted and ferocious.

The bronze throne is comfortable overall, with an appearance that emphasizes majesty and coldness.

The person sitting on it will not feel any discomfort, nor will they be cut by the throne.

But the bronze throne is very large.

When a person sits in the middle, the two sides will be empty, giving people a sense of loneliness and isolation.

If one sits on only one side, it is as if one is handing over the seat of honor to someone else, which is not in the manner of a monarch.

This can be considered a small warning he left for future generations.

Is it the cold, hard throne that gives you a sense of accomplishment, or the ordinary chair at home that's more comfortable?

Janssf clasped her hands to her chest, her face filled with excitement and admiration, preparing herself to offer even more sincere praise.

"Your Highness..."

As soon as he finished speaking, Aemon yawned and waved his hand to interrupt: "Move the throne into the Summer Hall. I'm tired and going to sleep."

Janicef's face stiffened, and a hint of resentment rose in her eyes.

Imon ignored her and did not go to the Evergreen Hall, which served as his bedchamber, but instead returned to the Hall of Abundance to rest.

It's common knowledge that people sleep better at their workplace.

"Roar--"

Vomisol also felt tired, his huge body curled up into a small mountain, his vertical pupils closed and his breathing steady.

Participating in the blacksmith's forging process is very beneficial to it.

Continuously improve your control over the dragon flames, and hone your ability to quell the anger that arises for no reason.

A dragon capable of this is probably extremely rare in the world.

This indirectly confirms the close relationship between the dragon and its rider, enabling them to work together in perfect harmony.

……

The next day.

As soon as it was light, Imon walked to the foot of Lonely Mountain and picked up a stone to carve.

If you don't have a carving knife, use a Valyrian dagger.

The dragon claws are curved, making them suitable for detailed outlining.

The dragon's teeth are straight and are indispensable to the main carving.

A soft rustling sound...

With focused concentration, Immon quickly carved a dragon-shaped stone sculpture.

If you're not satisfied after a quick look, pick up a stone and recarve it.

His heart was inevitably restless with anticipation of the upcoming decisive battle.

This method is used for adjustment.

I'll give it to my uncle later, hoping he'll like the new figure.

"Your Highness, there is news from King's Landing."

A runic Iron Guard arrived.

"what's up?"

Imon didn't even look up, concentrating intently on carving.

Runeguard hesitated and said, "It's the King. He's riding Princess Rhaenys's dragon and heading towards the valley."

Upon hearing this, Imon stopped carving, a smile appearing in his eyes.

Sure enough, only when faced with major upheavals do family members change.

It even alarmed my uncle.

"Go down."

Immon pondered for a moment, then continued carving the stone.

Melias is the fastest dragon; not counting rest stops, he travels from King's Landing to the Vale in just one day and one night.

Hopefully, Damon can arrive early for the appointment.

"Damon, it's time for us to settle our score."

Imon muttered to himself.

His duel with Damon, though described as a feud between father and son, was more like a performance.

You performed well.

From now on, the family will be more united, and many things will be able to put aside past grievances.

However, this performance was a life-or-death act. As he was carving, Imon paused, his gaze drifting towards a certain bush.

After one glance, I was no longer distracted.

Before we knew it, it was the next day.

Imon returned to the foot of Lonely Mountain and began carving the stone again.

Melias didn't come, and neither did Corakhue.

"Your Highness, another group of people who migrated from Mil have arrived. Would you like to give a speech?"

Scholar Mu Kun climbed over the pebble beach and took the initiative to start a conversation.

"Need not."

Imon refused outright.

For such a minor matter, simply arrange for someone to receive them properly, and provide them with temporary housing and planned farmland.

"Yes, Prince."

Scholar Mu Kun hesitated for a moment, then had no choice but to leave.

He tried to persuade His Highness the Prince to think twice before acting, but it was clear that he couldn't change his mind.

Time passes minute by minute.

Dusk.

As the sun set, fiery clouds on the horizon obscured the view.

A pile of dragon-shaped stone sculptures were casually placed at Imon's feet, leaving almost no space to step around.

"Hiss... Gah..."

A sharp, piercing roar suddenly erupted, like a thunderclap in the clear sky.

Imon looked up, holding a half-finished dragon-shaped stone sculpture in his hand.

Judging by its appearance, it is indeed the sinister-looking Coraksh.

boom--

A crimson dragon, its body as long as a snake, crashed through the clouds, flapping its broad, powerful wings, and approached the river valley town with a clear objective.

"finally come."

Imon twisted his sore shoulders, stood up, and stretched vigorously.

“Hiss—”

Suddenly, the forest on the other side of the mountain at the foot of Lonely Mountain shook, and a majestic bronze dragon slowly rose up.

"Hiss!"

"Hiss..."

A terrifying roar of a dragon echoed from within the Lonely Mountain Dragon Nest, and a silver-gray dragon head emerged from the dark cave entrance.

A sharp screech echoed simultaneously from the shore of Changhu Lake.

A fleeting, pale gray dragon silhouette flashed by amidst the fiery clouds on the horizon.

Seemingly sensing an impending great battle, the usually lazy Silverwing awoke from its slumber, and even the wild dragon Gray Shadow, far away in Mil, returned alone.

With a calm heart, Imon headed towards the long lake.

Of the three dragons, Vormisor followed slowly behind, its massive size crushing the rocks and bushes along the way.

Silverwing flew out of the dragon's nest and landed on the summit of Lonely Mountain, spreading its wings.

The gray shadow darted through the clouds for a moment, then saw Amon arrive at the shore of Long Lake and land silently beside him.

Right now,

In the valley town, every household kept their doors and windows closed. Men peered anxiously out of their windows, while women and children knelt on the ground in devout prayer.

Everyone knows that a dragon battle, the first of its kind in decades, is about to erupt in the valley.

Whether they were commoners migrating from all over the valley or residents transformed from mountain clans, they all secretly cheered for His Highness the Prince.

Only he deserves the title of King of the Valley.

He brought peace and stability to the people under his rule, making them more prosperous than ever before.

……

Changhu Lake.

Damon flew around the city of Vale, which resembled a white palace, twice before landing Kolachu on the shore of Lake Long.

Keeping a hundred yards away from Vormisor, the two dragons glared fiercely at each other.

Silver wings and gray shadows danced in the sky, overlooking the perilous scene below.

"Hiss... Gah..."

Kolarakhau spread its wings and roared, flames flickering between its teeth, constantly on guard against the three giant dragons surrounding it.

Aemon calmly asked, "Are you sure you want to fight me, a dragon?"

"Hiss~~"

Damon chuckled dismissively and said, "You can ride three dragons; being able to ride them is your skill."

He had no choice.

He had no choice but to accept this challenge.

Between victory and defeat, there exists his honor and disgrace.

"To be fair, I won't gang up on you."

Imon remained calm and said, "Vomisol, against your Corakshyu."

What he needs is a battle of equal strength, one that is worthy of being celebrated.

The attack of three giant dragons will only turn the battle into a hunt.

That would be meaningless.

Damon's eyes turned cold, as he felt that the other person was looking down on him.

But this was exactly what he wanted.

No one would want to face three dragons at the same time unless absolutely necessary.

Without another word, the two climbed onto the dragon's back.

Aemon sat on the dragon saddle, hesitated for a moment, and then fastened the chain around his waist tightly.

Only after repeatedly confirming that the chains could be opened easily did I feel reassured.

Damon, however, did not.

He was wearing black steel armor and had his clan sword "Dark Sister" at his waist; it was unclear what he was planning.

Immediately afterwards, the two giant dragons took off into the air at the same time.

"Hiss... Gah..."

Kolachu quickly ascended, its form resembling a supple giant worm, until it disappeared into the clouds.

“Hiss—”

Vomisol is older and larger, but its speed is in no way inferior, and its huge brown wings bring amazing explosive power.

In just a few breaths, they caught up with that red phantom.

The attack occurred suddenly, with the force of a thunderbolt.

Kolachu let out a piercing scream, turned around and spewed out a mouthful of blood-red dragonfire, attacking Vomisol head-on.

boom--

Vomitor tilted his head slightly, and the dragon flames struck the side of his neck, bursting into a burst of flames mixed with thick smoke.

"Return the favor, Vomisol!"

Aemon swayed slightly, his eyes fixed on the bloodworms that continued to rise into the air.

Vomisol entered battle mode, his anger surging from his heart, and a strange power welled up throughout his body.

The moment it was injured, it opened its mouth and spewed out a torrent of molten copper-like dragon flames.

The two giant dragons, one tall and one short, glared angrily at each other.

Kolachu hurriedly dodged, the dragon flames grazing past the scarlet fleshy wings, leaving several mottled holes in the left wing membrane.

"Hiss... Gah..."

It roared in pain, and at the charioteer's command, disappeared into the thick, fiery clouds.

"It's that same old trick again."

Imon sneered, unmoved.

Vormisor roared in fury, unleashing a continuous barrage of dragonfire as it flew, dispersing the crimson clouds overhead.

The power of the Bronze Fury is perfectly demonstrated at this moment.

next moment.

Kolachu revealed his presence and, taking advantage of the last rays of the setting sun, lunged fiercely at Vomisor's side.

It unleashed astonishing power, colliding and engaging in a fierce battle with the bronze dragon.

"Bite it, Kolachu!"

Damon gripped the dragon saddle handles tightly with both hands, almost growling.

This duel is a gamble with the future.

If he loses, he will be completely bound to his brother's throne and continue living a muddled and aimless life.

He wants to win!
The only way to defeat a battle-hardened, peak-level dragon is through the most intense and brutal close-quarters combat.

He bet that his opponent hadn't experienced these things before and would expose his weaknesses in the chaos.

However, he made the wrong bet.

"Bite it, Vomisol!"

Aemon burst into wild laughter, unable to contain his excitement, and used the techniques of the binding spell.

“Hiss—”

Vomisol received the command clearly. The moment the opponent lunged at him, he flipped over to face him and bit down on the shoulder blade that was brought to his mouth.

With a crack, something broke.

Korakshu raised its head and howled, fully unleashing its ferocity. Taking advantage of its long, slender neck, it bit the bronze dragon's neck.

It intended to strangle the other animal further, but the other animal bit its shoulder blade.

No matter how long you stretch your neck, you can only bite the base of the other person's neck.

The sturdy bronze scales were extremely sharp; the first bite failed to penetrate them, and only with continued force did the black fangs embed themselves into the scalding flesh.

Its sharp dragon snout was simply not enough to bite through Vomisol's thick neck.

On the contrary, Vomisol easily broke through its defenses and continued to tear, gradually detaching the scarlet fleshy wings from the shoulder blades.

It was getting late, and the sky grew quieter.

The calm lake surface resembled a vast expanse of flattened steel.

Dragon blood flowed and splashed onto the long lake, boiling the water and causing it to steam.

(End of this chapter)