Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 545: I Will Ride Him Over Again

Chapter 545: I Will Ride Him Over Again

Qohor

One of the nine Free Cities, a rare inland city.

“Roar!” The brown dragon’s wings cut through the sky as the ugly mud dragon shrieked.

“Steady, Sheepstealer,” Aemond commanded, displeasure evident in his voice. He held a trembling, delicate figure in his arms.

Celine's face was pale, and she whispered, “I’m fine.”

Aemond frowned and slowed Sheepstealer's pace. He probably shouldn’t have brought his paramour along. A Celtigar, with their typical sea-faring background, was not accustomed to the dragon of blood and fire.

“Prince, are we almost there?” Celine asked, her eyes dizzy and barely open.

Aemond looked down at her and said confidently, “After crossing the Thenn River, Qohor is not far away.”

Celine nodded in relief. The destination of this trip was Qohor.

“Close your eyes for a while. I’ll wake you when we get there.” Aemond hugged Celine’s slender waist, resting his pointed chin on her silver-blonde curls, fully enjoying the moment of tranquility.

Celine was the best woman he had ever shared a bed with. She was younger than the brothel madam and more mature than Floris. When he spent his first night in High Tide in Celine’s bed, she was still a virgin. Thank the Sevens for the late Laenor, his cousin.

It was his alternative orientation that allowed him to pick up a Valyrian woman who looked so much like his sister.

Such a good catch.

“Roar!”

Sheepstealer leapt through a vast forest, suddenly lowering its head to roar in warning. Aemond opened his eyes wide, peering down with great caution.

Below lay the Forest of Qohor, the largest primeval forest on the continent of Essos. Among the lush, towering trees, the noise of people and horses was evident. A cavalry unit advanced slowly along a winding path that stretched for more than ten miles.

Aemond’s one eye widened, focusing on the barbaric attire of the cavalry. They wore animal skins and carried curved swords and bows. Men, women, and children all rode tall horses, following the procession in an orderly manner.

“These are the Dothraki!” Celine opened her eyes and said weakly.

“Yes, a bunch of wild men from the Great Desolation,” Aemond replied, his expression grim. He suddenly noticed the carts mixed in with the cavalry. Several horses were pulling carts covered in rags. From their towering bulges and the shape of the crossbows, it was not difficult to guess what they were.

“Scorpion crossbows from Qohor, escorted by Dothraki?” Aemond’s eyes lit up with excitement. “The weapons were purchased for Slaver’s Bay, and the wildlings were hired.”

He had been exiled for half a month and had heard nothing about the war. But judging by this Dothraki tribe of over 10,000 people, the family must have declared war on Slaver’s Bay.

“Should I take this news back?” Aemond’s eyes flashed with excitement but quickly dismissed the idea. He patted the dragon’s back and urged, “Hurry up, Sheepstealer!”

“Roar!” Sheepstealer snarled, flapping its tattered brown wings and disappearing into the forest in an instant.

Aemond smiled and muttered, “First, I’ll have the Crab Claws remade, then I’ll gather a group of mercenaries. Who can stop me now?” He was determined to make his name known throughout the continent of Essos.

...

Time passes slowly...

Slaver's Bay, Astapor.

The city walls are in a terrible state, blackened by fire and death, and the air is thick with the stench of burning. Inside the Free City, the ancient streets are filled with the sound of people, and the ground is covered with garbage and excrement. The Wise Masters are hiding in the pyramids, calling on the Unsullied to protect them in every way.

The slaves are kept in stables like livestock, chained around their necks. Occasionally, one or two slaves escape, but they are so emaciated that they can barely walk. They don't get far before they fall into a puddle of mud. The patrols quickly catch them, cutting off their necks with a single blow and feeding them to the beasts in the arena like dead dogs.

“Roar...” A yellow jade dragon soars through the sky, plunging into the thick clouds. The sound of the dragon's roar makes the Wise Masters of the Free City tremble.

In the western district, a 400-foot-tall pyramid stands. At this moment, the Wise Masters are flocking to the site. Without exception, they discuss how to deal with the inevitable war.

The fleet has blockaded the Worm River, and there is a shortage of food in Astapor. The dragons harass them every day, and the people in the city are in a panic. The Wise Masters are going mad without a solution.

...

Worm River, the garrison.

"Roar..."

At the entrance to the camp, a yellow dragon slowly landed. Rhaenyra rolled off the dragon's wing, lifted her hand, and bit off her glove, exclaiming, “Well done, Syrax.”

"Roar..."

Syrax's pupils were gentle, and the dragon's snout arched to nuzzle its rider, just like a spoiled little girl.

"Today's mission is complete, good girl." Rhaenyra rubbed the dragon's chin and turned to enter the camp.

"Your Grace," two Kingsguard in silver armor and white robes, one tall and one short, greeted her.

"Thank you, Ser," Rhaenyra replied, walking briskly. She was already familiar with the two new Kingsguards.

One was tall and handsome, with silver hair and blue eyes, Bael Dayne of House Dayne of Starfall. The other was short and stocky, with gray curly hair and green eyes, and a harmless baby face, Hall Reed from Greywater Watch, known for its archery.

One was the Lord of Starfall, the other was the second son of a lord. They had earned their places in the Kingsguard through their strength and skill.

...

Rhaenyra moved quickly through the camp. Before she reached her destination, she saw a group of people in rags and hemp clothes rushing out.

“Huh?” Rhaenyra looked closer and recognized Grey Worm, the leader of the Unsullied, among them. The others appeared to be low-ranking officers or former slaves.

Inside the tent, Rhaegar was playing with a gold coin engraved with the image of a Harpy. With a flick of his finger, the coin flipped through the air.

"Back already?" Rhaegar looked up suddenly, his concern evident. "How was it? Did you encounter any resistance?"

"No," Rhaenyra replied, pouring herself a cup of wine. "Did you give Grey Worm a mission?"

After more than a month of siege, Astapor had gone from initial resistance to complete collapse. Rhaegar had only requested ships and food from the rear, never mentioning an offensive.

Rhaegar smiled mysteriously, got up, pushed Rhaenyra back into her chair, and whispered, "The Wise Masters in the city can't take the pressure anymore. Someone came to me asking for peace."

"What are the terms?" Rhaenyra looked at him sideways, trying to guess his intentions.

Rhaegar laughed, "The Wise Masters want money, and I want an army."

Rhaenyra was shocked. "They'll sell you their weapons?"

The Unsullied trained in Astapor were world-renowned. In the midst of war, how could the Wise Masters sell their strongest army?

"They didn't say how many, but I don't think it will be more than half of the city's total," Rhaegar half-sat on the table, his eyes slightly narrowed, and said slyly, "But I want them all."

...

At night, the sky was pitch dark.

At the base of the red-gray wall, burnt and dismembered corpses were piled haphazardly, forming a gruesome mound. Grey Worm's face was pale as he sidestepped a few bodies with blackened armor fused to their flesh, making his way to the base of the wall to search with the others.

“Here,” a fellow Unsullied called out, digging into a muddy drainage hole. The hole was not large, resembling a dog hole rather than one made for humans.

Grey Worm took out a chisel and began hammering away at the drainage hole, enlarging it to a size that could fit a person. The light flickered as a group of Unsullied soldiers patrolled the city walls. The night wind blew, and the moon was covered by dark clouds.

“Hurry up,” Grey Worm urged. He first shoved a jingling sack into the hole, then led the way through it. Back in this old purgatory, he never thought he would have to find another way.

A moment later, several figures moved through the city under curfew, skillfully avoiding the patrolling soldiers. After a while, they blended in with a pyramid's shadow. Shortly after, they quietly slipped out.

Grey Worm lifted the sack, which was more than half empty. “Next,” he whispered, his voice low but filled with excitement.

...

For three days, everything seemed calm.

The Wise Masters, after careful deliberation, opened the city gates and requested negotiations. With a bang, five thousand Unsullied marched out of the Free Cities, accompanied by three thousand mercenaries paid for by the Wise Masters. A dozen Wise Masters, dressed in their finest attire, set up a temporary pavilion outside the city gates. Behind them, a huge bronze statue of a Harpy loomed over the city gate, its talons appearing to clutch hundreds of huddled slaves like prey.

“Roar!” A thunderous roar echoed through the sky as a black dragon the size of a mountain slowly took flight. Two golden dragons of similar size flanked the black dragon. The Second Sons cavalry followed, escorting a convoy of carts loaded with boxes.

After a while, both sides took their seats. The Wise Masters sat at the head of the pavilion, each one plump and well-fed, resembling well-dressed pigs. The leader was a mature woman with dark skin, wearing only a light beige veil that highlighted her long, bouncy legs.

“Wow, she's a real beauty,” Aegon smiled, his eyes fixed on the woman.

The mature woman tilted her head and suddenly spread her legs, revealing a generous patch of black hair. Aegon was shocked, his smile vanishing. Rhaegar brushed past him, completely ignoring the rip in his sackcloth.

Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed, and her voice was low: “You're a disgrace.”

The first meeting between the two sides was obviously not very pleasant. The three siblings stood in the center of the gazebo, looking up at the Wise Masters gathered there. Each Good Master had a slave girl at their side, occasionally holding a whip. The mature woman sat in the middle, staring straight at Rhaegar.

Rhaegar, with his silver hair braided into a plait, looked around with interest. The mature woman was clearly intrigued by him. Regardless of his status, he was nothing more than a tall, handsome man to her. The inhuman beauty of the Targaryens was perfectly embodied in him. She wondered how comfortable it would be to ride him.

“Take your eyes off him, slave master!” Rhaenyra's face grew cold as she warned in High Valyrian.

The mature woman looked at her in surprise and replied in the same language: “Your husband is very handsome. When you were brother and sister, did you ever ride him secretly?”

Slaver's Bay was built on the ruins of ancient Ghis, which was once a slave of ancient Valyria. Today, people of status were proud to speak fluent High Valyrian.

Rhaenyra smiled, her most gentle expression delivering the most ruthless words: “When I cut off your head, I will put it by the bed so you can watch me ride him.”

“Puff!” Aegon couldn't help but laugh.