Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 445: Dragonfire Burns Sunspear

Chapter 445: Dragonfire Burns Sunspear

In the corridors of the old palace, Davos hurriedly searches for the prince's heir.

Meanwhile, inside the palace, there is a chaotic flurry of activity. Servants hastily pack belongings while soldiers prepare to abandon the city.

Davos walks through the Sun Tower and then heads to the Water Gardens outside the city.

As night falls, the atmosphere grows tenser.

Sunspear, East Coast.

This coastal town, surrounded by the sea on three sides, transitions from a brief desert section to sandy beaches lined with reefs.

The moon shines brightly, with few stars in the sky, and dark clouds drift by.

Davos walks on the beach, holding a two- or three-year-old girl in his arms and guiding a five- or six-year-old boy by the hand.

The children are wrapped in silk, their faces tense and anxious.

"Lord Davos, does Father really have to send us away?" Qyle Martell asks timidly.

Davos's expression softens as he replies, "Don't be afraid. Dorne will win this war sooner or later, and you will return."

"Why are we fighting?" Qyle's eyes fill with tears, his young voice quavering.

Lacking the precociousness of his sister Aliandra, he instinctively hates the war that has shattered their peace.

Davos pauses, looks up at the crescent moon, and sighs helplessly: "This is a difficult question. There is a war every second of every day in the world. The difference is the number of people involved."

He recalls a story his grandmother once told him.

A farmer lost a mule and noticed that his neighbor had an extra one, leading to a fight between them.

The fight drew the entire village, with people taking sides.

In the chaos, someone got injured, and the injured person's relatives from a neighboring village got involved, causing a war between the two villages.

The war disrupted the harvest, affecting the taxes collected by the Lord.

Unable to collect taxes, the Lord went to war with other Lords for gold.

Eventually, the war spread like a plague, affecting every inch of the continent.

In the end, war is about plunder and capital.

The Iron Throne is strong, and Dorne will be beaten.

The stronger Dorne becomes, the more the Iron Throne's position will be threatened.

The two sides are on the same continent, making war inevitable.

Qyle half-understands, his black eyes flowing with tears as he is consumed by the sadness of separation.

Splash!

The evening wind churned the waves, sending them crashing violently onto the beach.

Outside the reef, a small boat bobbed like a child adrift, far from home.

"Children, it's time to go."

Davos removed his white cloak and, without further ado, carried the two children to the boat.

In the darkness of the night, two larger cargo ships floated on the sea, waiting to receive their precious "cargo."

Davos sat in the small boat and paddled towards one of the cargo ships.

Soon, the boat bumped against the hull of the ship.

"Mate, I'll throw you a rope. You bring the kids up."

A bearded man stood on the deck, speaking in Valyrian, and threw down a thick rope.

Davos glanced at the sail, seeing the emblem of a cold tiger's head.

Confirming it was the connecting ship, Davos held Coryanne in his arms and Qyle on his back.

Bang!

Leaping nimbly into the boat, Davos untied the silk around Coryanne's chest and reminded the man, "Take care of the little princess. The prince will be very grateful to Triarch Tesrio."

"Of course, the Triarch is the most hospitable person."

The bearded man smiled broadly and reached out to take the child.

"Good, I'll take Prince Qyle with me."

"Don't worry, the boat is coming."

"What?"

Davos was taken aback and turned around in surprise.

Suddenly, a dagger plunged into the back of his head, the tip piercing through to his jaw.

"Sorry."

"Valar morghulis (All men must die)."

The bearded man's tone changed, and he tore off a piece of his face, revealing a foreign visage.

Brown curly hair, weathered by the wind and the years, framed a face with a smile that never left his lips.

"Ah!"

The attack was swift. Blood sprayed onto the two children, causing them to scream.

Coryanne, held in the killer's arms, screamed until her throat was raw, her small body convulsing in terror.

Syrio looked at her with pity and said, "Don't cry. I won't you, little girl."

Then, kicking off the elevated bamboo leg, he stared at the dying Davos.

The dagger's thrust had left Davos's body rigid, blood gushing from his seven orifices, staining his silver armor.

"Hoo~..."

Davos's instinctive gasps were reduced to a hoarse rasp, his eyelids growing heavier.

In his final moments, he saw a small cargo ship approaching from the deep sea.

In a flash of insight, he retained a trace of thought.

The assassin had not lied. The ship was really coming.

"Prince, you have been betrayed..."

The remaining consciousness could not form the words, and Davos's body fell backward uncontrollably.

Bang!

His body landed heavily on the deck, kicking up a cloud of non-existent dust.

The great sword on his back clattered, breaking free of its straps.

The Sword of Dawn, a legendary weapon, fell silent.

The two children burst into tears.

Syrio sighed with a sense of loss, helplessly looking at the children, and bent down to pick up the great sword.

"The Sword of Dawn, a legendary weapon."

Syrio carefully examined the heavy sword, acknowledging the prince's foresight.

He would not have been a match for the Sword of Dawn in a fair fight.

But it didn't matter.

Dorne excelled in assassination, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

Splash!

Another cargo ship approached, with hundreds of people on deck.

Robb, who should have been in Myr, stood at the edge of the deck, his expression solemn: "Take care of the children. Lord Corlys siege will begin before dawn."

"Leave it to me."

Syrio gave a graceful bow and said seriously, "Valar dohaeris (All men must serve)."

In the darkness of the night, the two cargo ships parted ways.

The sound of a child's heart-wrenching wailing could be faintly heard.

...

Sunspear, the old palace.

Qoren was alone in his bedchamber, sprawled out on his soft bed, his body encased in hard plate armor even as he slept.

It was midnight.

Qoren's face contorted in his sleep, as if plagued by a terrible nightmare. Gradually, beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"Ah!"

Qoren jolted awake, his handsome face twisted with fear, his eyes wide and dilated, as if he had encountered something horrific.

"Dave, why isn't he back yet?"

Qoren gasped for breath, muttering to himself. Then he remembered he had sent the man to escort his two children to the Narrow Sea. They should be on their way by now.

He let out a sigh of relief and covered his forehead with a trembling hand. "The Stepstones are lightly guarded, so the cargo ships from Braavos and Volantis should not be intercepted."

As far as he knew, Corlys Velaryon had almost drained the Stepstones of its defense forces in his quest for revenge.

"If Braavos could send a fleet to attack, it would regain control of the Stepstones."

Qoren clenched his jaw, frustrated with the Sealord. "Stupid Sealord, he sees only the small benefits and forgets the greater good."

His mind wandered to Wyl and Yronwood. "The Blackhaven army will be stationed in Yronwood, with an empty rear and the King of the Iron Throne in front. No matter which side is attacked, the battle can be turned around."

The Dornish knew their own castles better than anyone else.

"Before the dragons arrive, we must leave the city before dawn and move the battlefield to favorable terrain."

Qoren shook his head to clear his thoughts, but the more he shook it, the dizzier he felt.

Before he knew it, he was fast asleep again.

...

The next day, before the sun had fully risen, the early morning sky was still a chaotic blend of dark and light, but a red sun began its slow ascent.

The sea rippled gently as the sun's reflection turned the horizon a fiery red.

"Roar..."

A loud dragon roar shattered the calm of the sunrise.

Above the Shadow City, Sunfyre soared in, releasing a stream of Dragonfire without hesitation.

As the sun reached halfway up the sky, Sunfyre, with its golden scales and pale pink wing membranes, appeared like a radiant sun that had gone astray.

Boom! Boom!

A large army emerged from the Greenblood River, surrounding the gates of the city and launching boulders from catapults.

In Sunspear's royal palace, Qoren jolted awake, startled by the commotion outside.

"What's going on? What's happening?!"

He tore aside the bed curtains and rushed out of his bedroom, grabbing a guard.

"The Sea Snake is attacking?" he demanded.

The guard, trembling, replied, "The army is blocking the entrance to Shadow City, and a dragon is attacking the buildings."

"Bastard!"

Qoren kicked the guard aside and staggered out of the room, muttering to himself, "There is a tunnel under Shadow City. Sunspear can't hold out."

As he spoke, dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost collapsed. With sheer willpower, Qoren summoned his troops, understanding a harsh truth.

No wonder the people of Essos hated the Dragonlords and their dragons. Before the dragons, Westeros's power lay in its thick armor, mobile cavalry, and impregnable castles.

But the dragons changed everything. Thick armor was burned through, cavalry became mere playthings, and even the sturdiest castles, which once boasted natural defenses, crumbled under the might of dragons with air superiority.

Outside the city walls of Shadow City, a 3,000-strong Crownlands army marched proudly, maneuvering siege engines to attack.

The Sea Snake, with a grim expression, shouted, "Release!"

Boom! Boom!

The catapults launched boulders that smashed into the brownish-yellow battlements.

The defenders, numbering only a few hundred, couldn't withstand the dragon's onslaught and were quickly overwhelmed.

The Sea Snake waved his hand and commanded, "Break into the city!"

The soldiers pushed the siege weapons forward, easily crashing through the unblocked city gate.

At that moment, the sun rose fully, and the sky filled with fiery clouds.

The Sea Snake looked up, his face twitching slightly, an indescribable excitement welling up in his eyes.

...

"Run!"

"One by one, the exit is in the desert."

In a hidden corner of Shadow City, Dorne soldiers surged forward, scrambling to enter a secret passageway.

One mile outside the city.

Bang!

A muffled sound came from the sand, followed by a pop as a wooden board was pushed aside.

Qoren, covered in sand, crawled out of the hole on his hands and knees.

"Hurry up! The Water Gardens are ahead. Go around them and take the path to Ghost Hill."

A large number of soldiers climbed out, and Qoren led the way into the desert.

The road is impassable, so it's safer to travel through the desert.

Ghost Hill is the closest to Sunspear. We can get supplies there and then make a plan.

Hoo-hoo!

He labored through the sand, and a gust of wind blew past his head.

Qoren froze, his joy of escape extinguished, and he looked up with difficulty.

The sky suddenly darkened, and a shadow covered the earth, blocking the bright sun.

Above his head, the blue sky disappeared, replaced by a huge black dragon.

The dragon's pupils were a dangerous shade of green, and it was at the top of the food chain.

"Dracarys!"

Suddenly, a clear voice rang out.

The next second, green Dragonfire poured down.

Qoren's teeth clenched, and he only had time to see a silver-haired figure on the dragon's back looking down at him with contempt.

The hot air rushed towards him, and Qoren, like a lamb about to be slaughtered, let out a desperate cry:

"No!"