Game of Thrones: The Black Dragon King

At Valerian's camp, the three dragon riders who were supposed to take off to provide support encountered a minor problem.

Lannino lay on his cot without any regard for his image; his once fair skin had turned pink, and a drunken grin spread across his face.

Red and Damon stared at each other, wide-eyed.

Reed gave him a disapproving sidelong glance. "How much did you give him to drink?"

Damon shrugged and replied just as irritably, "Just two bites. I choked on the first bite, but managed to swallow the second, and then I just looked like this."

"He wants to ride a dragon into battle? You're kidding me!"

"You didn't stop me when I served him the wine, so shut up and let's see what the scholar has to say."

After inspecting for a while, Army Scholar Bandarin straightened up, his tone tinged with helplessness:

"It's just a brief drowsiness caused by excessive drinking, but his alcohol tolerance is too low. It will take at least two hours for him to sober up. He absolutely cannot ride the dragon now."

"Two hours? By the time he wakes up, the battle will be over!"

Damon, however, said nonchalantly, "One little dragon can burn several ships. So what if he's absent? Corakhue is worth two of us."

"What Corliss wants is a brilliant combat record so that he can be knighted in glory."

"Is it that complicated? Back in the day, I just killed a few bandits in the Royal Guard, and the White Knight tapped me on the shoulder with his sword, and that was it."

"Don't you know how much the Sea Serpent values ​​his successor? He spent a fortune commissioning a Valyrian steel sword and sent him here for training. Do you think he'd go through all that trouble like you? Lannino is the future lord of Tidehead Island. You, a second son of a second son who received the education of a second son, what do you know about gilding the lily? What do you know about paving the way?"

"Don't understand? My father was also crowned Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, okay? I did it on purpose, so what?"

"This is a time for cooperation. Do you really think your nearly wiped-out cannon fodder army can help you achieve your ambitions?"

"Fine, I'll just ride my dragon back to my bronze-level slut and live off her. What can you do about it?"

"Corliss~" Reed was interrupted by Damon before he could finish speaking.

"To hell with Corliss! To hell with the Valerian! I was really prepared to go to war with him back then to protect Viserys's throne! You really think I'm afraid of him?"

"Then you splash it."

"What is this?"

"cold water."

Damon glanced at the wooden tub in Reed's hand, then looked at Lannino, who was lying on the cot, his face flushed and his breathing rapid.

Sir Bandarun cried out in panic, "No! No! No! You can't do this! It will make him sick!"

Reed gestured with his chin, indicating to Damon.

Damon swiftly and decisively picked up the basin of cold water and, before the scribe could react, thoroughly drenched Lannino.

Forced to awaken, Lannino, his eyes vacant and steam rising from his collar and sleeves, staggered toward the dragon with its wings spread.

"His condition is not suitable for the battlefield; he should rest in bed." Scholar Bandarin followed along, wiping Lannino's wet hair with a burlap sack, until Sea Smoke let out a warning hiss. Only then did he stop, muttering, "I'll speak to the master about how you treat the young master!"

Damon glanced at him and said, "Go ahead and say it!"

Is this an attempt to create a disclaimer for himself?

Looking at the chubby, somewhat shrewd scholar, Reid felt like teasing him and imitated his tone, saying, "You tried to prevent Lannino from helping in a time of crisis, ruining his excellent opportunity to build prestige among his subordinates and vassals, and using this to create a negative scandal of the Valerian father being in danger while his son was sound asleep drunk. I will also tell your master about that."

"No! I didn't! This is slander!"

"There are no vacuums in Game of Thrones. Expressing an opinion means getting involved in the consequences," Reed teased.

The scholar's face flushed red. He pointed at Reid, his lips trembling but unable to utter a single word. He turned and stormed off.

Reed chuckled softly as he watched his retreating figure, then turned to look at Lannino.

Lannino, who had been walking somewhat hesitantly, immediately and nimbly climbed onto the dragon saddle and secured his thighs and waist with rigging.

"What are you worried about? Kid, didn't your mother tell you? Once Targaryen blood establishes a bond with dragons, it's impervious to fire and cold." Damon couldn't stand it anymore and offered a few words of advice, then looked at Reid: "What's the plan this time?"

"Lannino needs to build connections, and besides, his dragon is still young. Let him be in charge of low-intensity battlefields, supporting those ships that are caught in boarding battles, and build connections with his vassals. The two of us will go to the outer perimeter to burn ships."

"Prioritize attacking those that are fleeing." Damon immediately understood.

"Let's expand our gains!" Reed laughed.

Sensing their companion's emotions, Night Fury and Corakshmi, having eaten and drunk their fill and taken a nap, were full of energy and let out roars of high fighting spirit.

······

When the three men and three dragons flew over the chaotic sea battlefield, the Valerian fleet and the fleet of the Three Cities Alliance were already locked in a fierce melee.

On the sea, ships of all sizes collided and entangled with each other. Broken masts and scattered sails floated on the waves. Ships caught in boarding action were entangled together by countless ropes and grappling hooks. The sailors on both sides, blinded by bloodlust, paid no attention to the course of their ships. The sounds of fighting, the clash of weapons, and the breaking and snapping of ships intertwined to create a deafening cacophony.

The soldiers of the Valerian fleet fought fiercely on the deck, trying to resist the boarding attack of the Three Cities Alliance soldiers. Blood stained the nearby seawater, turning the originally blue sea surface into patches of dazzling crimson.

At the heart of the fiercest battle, the towering hull and pitiful state of the Sea Serpent instantly drew the attention of the three. As they drew closer and saw Corliss riddled with bullets, Lannino's already pale face turned even paler.

With eyes wide with rage, he urged his companions, "Sea Smoke! Dragon Flame! Dragon Flame!"

Struggling to brace himself with his scimitar, Corliss suddenly heard Harvey behind him let out a piercing scream that cut through the battlefield's clamor: "Dragon! My lord, the dragon is coming!"

Corliss looked up and saw a huge shadow swooping down on the Sea Serpent in the reddening sunset to the northwest.

"Hiss~!" A wisp of smoke swept past, and a dragon's breath precisely plundered the deck of the enemy ship that had boarded the ship. Instantly, flames burst forth, and the pirates on board let out painful howls amidst the flames.

"Hiss~! Eek~! Eek~! Eek~!" Accompanied by a highly recognizable sharp roar, Kolachu swooped down, its scarlet scales reflecting a dazzling light in the sunlight.

A thick dragon flame, like molten lava, poured down from the sky, exploding into a rain of fire the moment it touched the sea. In just a few breaths, it turned the two warships of the Three Cities Alliance that were besieging the Sea Serpent into a sea of ​​fire.

"Father! Hold on!"

In an instant, Corliss felt as if his heart skipped a beat, his blood rushed to his head, and he looked at Lannino, who was riding a dragon in mid-air, with tears in his eyes.

"Dragonfire!" Lannino continuously issued commands to his dragon, which circled the Sea Serpent, burning the besieging enemies. His gaze occasionally drifted to his disheveled father, and before he knew it, his vision was blurred with tears.

Corliss immediately straightened his back, wiped away the weak tears from the corners of his eyes, and shouted like thunder, "My son has come to our aid on a dragon! Get these bastards off the ship!"

The sailors on the Sea Serpent erupted in thunderous cheers, their morale soaring, and they fought even more fiercely. The previously collapsing defensive line miraculously stabilized.

Harvey rushed forward like a lackey, pulling the arrows stuck in the serpent armor, muttering under his breath, "I've pulled these damned arrows out for you. They looked really creepy. The young master thought you were injured and turned pale with fright..."

Ignoring the battle in the center, Reed rode his dragon straight to the outer perimeter.

The moment the dragon's flames descended, many of the Three Cities Alliance warships, sensing the danger, began to turn around and attempt to escape. The Sea Serpent had suffered such a heavy loss; if it couldn't wipe out these fleeing warships in one fell swoop, all its previous sacrifices and risks would have been in vain.

"Dragon Flame!"

"Sarga~!"

The eerie blue dragonfire precisely swept across a hastily turning Tyresh warship, from stern to bow. The sails rapidly vaporized in the scorching flames, the masts twisted and charred, sparks flew across the deck, and debris scattered everywhere. The raging fire instantly drowned out the enemy's cries and screams, and the entire ship lost power, spinning helplessly on the sea.

The horrific state of the neighboring ships triggered a stress response from the pirate ships that were frantically fleeing nearby.

Inside the ship's hold, the overseer relentlessly whipped the slaves, who were chained to the planks and rowing, his whips flashing like afterimages as he lashed these poor souls at the very bottom of society, trying to squeeze out their last bit of strength.

The slaves were whipped until their skin was torn and bleeding, their backs crisscrossed with blood and gore, the light of which was ghastly reflected in the dim cabin. Hoarse gasps and the overseers’ roars mingled together, while the rowing became increasingly sluggish due to exhaustion.

No matter how hard they tried, their speed could never match that of the dragon soaring through the air. The Night Fury's sharp eyes locked onto the warship attempting to escape, and with a flap of its wings, it swooped down like an arrow released from a bow.

"Attack! Attack! Crossbowmen, fire! Scorpion crossbows, aim for the dragon's eyes!" The captain and his men urged the sailors operating the ranged weapons frantically.

The dense barrage of arrows clanged against Reed's armor, while the sparse crossbow bolts sparked against the Night Fury's scales, which only fueled the dragon's ferocity.

"Squeak!" Once in the right position, the dark blue dragon flames shot out once more.

"Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

As dusk fell, the last rays of the setting sun and the burning wreckage bathed the sea in a golden light. Desperate cries mingled with the crackling of burning planks, creating a tragic elegy for the end of the world.

"How much longer until sunset!?" Captain Santos on the Madam's warship looked regretful and anxious.

"About half an hour!" The navigator poured seawater over himself, completely disregarding the wet nautical chart.

"The goddess of lust is punishing my greed! The goddess of lust is punishing my greed!"

"Tell the lower deck to beat those lazybones to death, don't worry about the loss of slaves!" Santos's bloodshot eyes were frighteningly red. He stared intently at the setting sun on the horizon, as if it were not a sunset, but a death warrant.

He knew that if they were spotted by the dragon before nightfall, they probably wouldn't even qualify as fish food.

In fear, the wait is long and agonizing.

"It's diving!"

"Mother!"

"We are not the target!"

"Phew!"

"The Torch of the Long Night has been burned!"

"..."

Between life and death lies great terror. As the dragon continued to climb, dive, and spew dragon flames, the crew of the Madam feared they would be the next target. Their hearts would leap into their throats and then plummet back into their chests. Everyone's nerves were exhausted by this back-and-forth tug-of-war.

At first, the deck was filled with exclamations, but gradually some people fell silent, and finally all the crew members pursed their lips and remained silent. On the deck full of sailors, only the sound of the sails fluttering and the distant roar of the dragon could be heard.

After a long silence, the navigator suddenly nudged the captain with his elbow, reminding him in a deliberately low but barely concealed voice, "Santos!"

"What?" The captain of the Madam was now listless, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

"A pattern!" The navigator pointed with a trembling finger at the warships not far away that had been baptized by dragon flames.

"?"

"They're deliberately attacking ships that try to escape! The farther they flee, the more likely they are to be struck by dragonfire!"

Santos snatched the Myr Eye from the navigator and opened it to peer into the distance. He quickly concluded, "These dragon riders want to trap us all! Like sheepdogs herding sheep!"

"They won't attack the ships in the inner circle for now, that's how it is!"

Santos suddenly realized that his ship was in a very dangerous position and cried out in alarm, "Damn it! Tell the overseers to stop, don't..." Before he could finish speaking, the navigator covered his mouth.

Under Santos's puzzled gaze, the navigator quickly glanced around out of the corner of his eye, then said with a cryptic expression, "There are still two quarters of an hour until nightfall. Slow down gradually, and don't let other ships notice us. We... still have a chance."

Santos then noticed that in the chaotic fleeing fleet, several ships belonging to veteran pirates were quietly slowing down and gradually falling behind. He instantly understood, swallowed hard, and whispered to the navigator, "You keep watch here, I'm going to the lower deck."

······

Those fleeing for their lives harbored their own schemes, while those fighting desperately battled with all their might. A giant dragon roared deafeningly in the sky, and warships burned fiercely on the sea, the flames illuminating the battlefield where chaos and despair intertwined.

As night fell and darkness enveloped everything, Reed and his companions had recreated the horrific Battle of the Hundred Candles from twenty years ago with remarkable realism: nearly a hundred burning shipwrecks floated on the sea, broken masts and tattered sails drifting with the current, the crimson flames contrasting starkly with the pitch-black water. The pungent smell of burning and the heavy stench of blood were carried by the sea breeze, churning and surging on the dark surface of the ocean.