Game of Thrones: The Black Dragon King

After surviving a series of assassination attempts, the subsequent march proceeded unexpectedly smoothly.

The people of Meereen seemed to have given up resistance. Reid's army did not encounter any significant battles along the way, and in ten days, they advanced to the walls of Meereen without any major incidents.

However, this peaceful atmosphere made Reed feel uneasy; the Meereenians' reaction was somewhat abnormal.

"Ugh~!"

A mournful horn sounded, and outside Meereen City, chaos reigned.

War refugees with their families, small groups of defeated soldiers, and slaves transporting supplies all rushed to pass through what now seemed like a narrow and congested city gate.

However, the anxiety only led to more congestion and stampedes, with cries and curses mingling together.

At the city gate, slave soldiers, led by their officers, tried their best to maintain order, but their strength was woefully inadequate against the surging crowd.

Some people fell due to the shoving and were then mercilessly trampled by those who came after them. Their desperate cries echoed in the air, but no one was able to lend a helping hand.

On the city walls, the defenders stood ready, archers lined up behind the parapets, their eyes coldly fixed on the chaotic crowd below. They seemed poised to riddle those who tried to breach the city gates with bullets at any moment.

Behind the battlements, slave soldiers set up large cauldrons, heating a mixture of asphalt and animal fat. When needed, this boiling oil, cooked to near its ignition point, would be poured into the channel and spewed out from the mouths of the harpies on the city walls, working in conjunction with ignited rockets to kill the enemy's attacking forces.

Beneath the city walls, squads of Unsullied men gathered, gripping their spears tightly and pressing their shields together, forming an impregnable defensive line.

Not far away, many lords and commanders were observing the situation below the city, ready to issue orders at any time.

As is customary, at this time, the relatively safer city walls at the rear would be filled with the women and relatives of the great lords and nobles of Meereen, as well as envoys, wealthy merchants and dignitaries from various city-states.

This group of people would enjoy various delicacies and fine wines while watching the warriors of Meereen defeat their enemies, providing each other with emotional value.

But at this moment, the traditional events were canceled because the enemy was too powerful. There were no spectators on the city wall, only a tense atmosphere in the air.

"The scout cavalry have already been deployed 5 leagues. If there is any ambush, we will receive an early warning and have enough time to respond. What are you worried about? Weren't you full of confidence before setting off to fight a head-on battle?" Damon asked.

"Something's not right here. If we were to encounter a decent surprise attack or ambush during the march, I wouldn't be this anxious. The Meereenians are holding back their forces..." Reid said uncertainly.

"Just a normal defensive stance?"

1000 knights, 2000 squires (Damon believed that horse archers were squires skilled in archery). Ten times that number of archers, crossbowmen, heavy swordsmen, mace carriers, halberdiers, spearmen, mechanics, and laborers, along with over 300 siege weapons…

In Westeros, this was a force that the Wardens could only mobilize by emptying their coffers. With just those three thousand cavalrymen, Damon was confident he could break through any army formation.

Damon restrained his urge to argue. No one on the battlefield could claim to be 100% certain. The cruelty and unpredictability of war treat everyone fairly, and any slight change could conceal a deadly crisis.

"Spread the scouts further out, ten leagues! When I attack the city, you need to watch the flanks and rear." Reed issued the new orders.

"You don't need to explain that."

In any case, with the enemy at the gates, there's no turning back.

At this point, the defenders on the city wall began to intervene in the chaotic crowd, firing several volleys of rockets in an attempt to disperse those charging towards the city gate. However, the crowd was too dense, and the rockets had limited killing effect, instead inciting even more panic and chaos.

The pre-battle meeting in Meereen was held underground in a pyramid close to the city walls.

"When will the Dothraki begin their attack?" an impatient leader asked anxiously, wiping away the sweat from the sweltering heat.

"There are dragons in the sky; now is not the best time," Sizidala said calmly.

"When is the best time?"

"When those two dragons run out of their dragonfire or are restrained."

"You mean when those two dragons start burning Meereen? You're one of the twenty great noble families of Meereen, and this city is your home too. What are you thinking!?"

"This is the necessary price to pay for victory! Besides, the Dothraki are not our slaves. Karagok will not obey our orders; he will choose the appropriate opportunity himself," Sizdara said calmly.

"Do we have to wait until the city falls, our homes are destroyed, our loved ones are murdered, and our wealth is looted before we can call it a 'suitable time to fight'?" Another leader was furious, slamming his fist on the table to express his strong dissatisfaction and despair.

Hizdala took a deep breath. He was not a general who had complete control over decision-making, especially after the last defeat, which led many people to question his command ability. Every time he planned an operation, he had to painstakingly persuade these parliamentary members, who were of varying quality, military skills, and determination to resist. This process was extremely exhausting.

He understood that these people were filled with anxiety and indignation, but he also knew that any rashness or haste would have disastrous consequences when facing the Dragon King, the dragon, and a siege force of up to 30,000 men.

"Stay calm and wait patiently until the opportunity arises that will give us the best chance of victory," Hizdala said firmly. "We are fully prepared. The city walls have been fortified and fireproofed. Numerous cellars and tunnels have been dug inside the city. We have ample food supplies, and the slaves are shackled and under strict guard. We have plenty of time to wait for that decisive moment."

The underground meeting room was filled with a tense and heavy atmosphere, as each leader weighed his options repeatedly in his mind.

"You should give him enough trust, after all, he once faced the dragon's flames and calmly led most of the Unsullied to survive," Kingsley Gratzstein of Astapor said, supporting his nephew.

"Trust? Ha! He's using us, our property, and our businesses as bait!" one of the leaders sneered, expressing strong dissatisfaction with the decision made by the Sizdala.

Sizidala ignored the man's provocation; what he said was harsh, but it was the truth.

"At this point, is there any point in arguing? Unity! Only by uniting can we fight the enemy." Kratz Daznak raised his voice, trying to calm the argument in the conference room.

Suddenly, a deafening crash came from outside the basement, as if the sky had fallen and the earth had split open. The entire basement trembled, dust and dirt fell from the ceiling, the chandelier swayed from side to side due to the vibration, and the air in the basement became turbid and oppressive.

"What happened?"

"A trebuchet! A trebuchet!" a noble officer cried in terror. "With a harpy above, it smashed through three floors! That stone weighs at least 2000 pounds!"

Thanks to its triangular architectural structure, the pyramid is extremely sturdy, becoming more solid and robust as you go down. Only a few rooms near the impact point on the upper level were damaged, so there was no risk of the entire building collapsing.

Hearing the officer's report, most people breathed a sigh of relief.

At that moment, Sizdala suddenly realized something: "Oh no! The city walls!"

This expensive siege weapon has an extremely limited number of uses. The rocker arm, made of giant wood, can only withstand a maximum of twenty or thirty high-intensity uses when fully loaded.

A costly attack cannot be aimed at destroying just a few buildings in the city; the city walls are the most valuable target!

The city wall was the first and most crucial line of defense for Meereen. Although we were prepared for the wall to fall, that was after we had exhausted a sufficient number of enemy troops, not like now, where it was destroyed by the enemy from a distance without having served any purpose.

……

Outside the city, at the front lines of Reid's army.

"Too much counterweight has been added; the range is too long!" the chief mechanic said.

"Unload the 100-pound sandbags!" the mechanic team leader operating the giant counterweight catapult commanded.

Four young men dressed as apprentices deftly secured the ropes, then climbed onto the counterweight box to move the sandbags.

300 yards from the walls of Meereen, 30 enormous machines were lined up in a row, their support frames alone reaching the height of a three-story building.

"The Wrathful One, the Slinger of the Gods, the Daughter of Earthquakes, the Invincible Destroyer, the Big Mother, the War Wolf, the Bad Neighbor, the City Raider, the Bitch's Kiss..." The chief mechanic rattled off the names of the giant counterweight catapults one by one, like showing off his beautiful children: "The enormous lever requires six giant logs to assemble, and each one uses 4000 pounds of iron. To prepare for potential damage, I've equipped each catapult with two additional counterweight boxes and four ropes. They can launch stones weighing 1000 to 2500 pounds to a distance of 300 to 500 yards. My lord!"

"Truly a powerful weapon for conquering cities and seizing territories!"

The chief mechanic nodded, a smug smile on his face: "That's right, they are incredibly powerful, absolutely enough to strike fear into the hearts of the Meereen defenders!"

At the mechanic foreman's command, the apprentices swiftly unloaded sandbags from the counterweights and adjusted the catapult's firing angle. Each test launch sent the catapult's roar echoing across the battlefield, as if foreshadowing impending destruction.

During the third test firing, a stone projectile struck the wall of Meereen squarely, instantly smashing the harpy statue that served as the nozzle to pieces, sending multiple layers of colorful bricks flying and cracking the surrounding walls.

"A good sign!" Reed exclaimed. "Continue!"

The chief mechanic, smug after receiving the praise, put his hands on his hips and shouted, "Optimal weight, 150,310 pounds! Get ready, you lazy pigs!"

"Ready!" "Ready!"...

The mechanics operating the catapults answered one after another, their eyes filled with eagerness.

At a command, 30 catapults launched simultaneously, the massive stone projectiles tracing graceful arcs through the air before slamming heavily into the walls of Meereen. The defenders on the walls were thrown into panic by this sudden attack, scrambling for cover.

The once beautiful city wall, constructed of colorful bricks and stones, began to be covered with numerous dents and pits.

"What a horrible bunch of neighbors! They're a real menace!" Reed exclaimed.