Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

Vermithor glided low in the sky, a pair of brown wings covering the sky and the earth, covering the green ridges that stretched for hundreds of miles.

The dragon flames like copper water splashed wantonly, as if it was hell on earth.

The mountain clan had no way to retreat.

"Hiss!"

Looking at the bronze dragon, Gray Shadow's pupils were full of fear, and he curled up in the stone mine to pretend to be a quail.

It was terrible!

This old dragon with the smell of copper rust was more than ten times stronger than the ugly mud dragon.

Even the owner of the rotten smell was not necessarily more terrifying than it.

Gray Shadow hugged his head with his wings and trembled.

Dragons are like this, let alone humans.

The knights of the valley were all stunned, tightening the reins to control the frightened war horses, and even forgot to cooperate in the pursuit.

As soldiers in peacetime, they have never participated in formal wars.

In the past, they had heard about the power of dragons from word of mouth of the older generation.

When His Royal Highness was young, he tamed the "Bronze Fury", and the whole Runestone City knew that the family's strength had grown by leaps and bounds.

Today, after witnessing the destructive power of the dragon, they truly realized how high the strength had grown.

It was higher than the Eagle's Nest on the Giant's Spear!

"Hiss--"

Vermithor raised his head and rose into the air, his wings fanning out a strong wind that swept down the bushes, and his thick dragon tail lightly shattered the rocks.

Aemon clenched the handle and looked down at the earth from a high altitude.

At this time, there were flames below.

...

In the evening.

Vermithor lay on the Green Ridge, lazily closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

Someone secretly observed, swallowing saliva nervously.

I saw that the bronze dragon's body was charred black, all of which were ashes after the Green Ridge vegetation was burned out.

It symbolizes unparalleled power.

"Have you interrogated clearly?"

Aemon lit a bonfire and sat by the dry stream.

Steve answered truthfully: "They are the mountain tribes of the Firesmith Tribe, a medium-sized tribe of 2,300 people. This time, there are 467 people wandering around hunting."

The Firesmith Tribe.

A tribe that is not well-known among the mountain clans, but has a pivotal position.

Like most mountain clans of the ancestors, they first worship bronze.

Secondly, they believe in fire.

They are good at using fire to forge weapons, and the people of the tribe are proud of being burned, so they are named "Firesmith Tribe".

Aemon glanced up and frowned, "How many people are there?"

Not far away, dozens of defeated soldiers knelt in a group.

Steve said, "Seventy-four people."

There were heavy casualties under the dragon flame.

Hearing this, Aemon frowned even more deeply.

What a good laborer, wasted.

"Prince, they are willing to swear allegiance to you and pay for the crimes they have committed."

William ran over, sweating profusely.

Aemon said, "Call them."

"Yes!"

Soon, seventy-four people from the Firesmith Tribe came forward tremblingly.

"How many people do you have left?"

Aemon's voice rose.

"One, nineteen hundred or so."

An old man from the Firesmith Tribe replied, not daring to hide it: "More than four hundred men, the rest are old, weak, women and children."

Aemon nodded gently, too lazy to talk nonsense: "Pledge allegiance to me, or choose dragon flame!"

A tribe of a thousand people is very worth conquering.

To put it bluntly, the High Mountain Clan is also a descendant of the First Men, or the descendants of those First Men who were unwilling to kneel when the Andals invaded.

The Royce family is also a descendant of the First Men, and he also has half the blood of the First Men.

Building cities and towns is easy to say, but the problem of population base must be faced.

Aren't you here to work?

Plop, plop...

Seventy-four members of the Firesmith Tribe knelt down one after another, with reverence in their eyes, and shouted: "God of Fire, we are willing to pledge allegiance to you."

They believe in bronze and fire, and are obsessed with the power of iron.

Seeing the dragon today, they were shocked to see it as a god.

Aemon was stunned when he heard this, and laughed dumbly.

William stepped forward and said, "It's not the God of Fire, it's the Dragon King!"

His voice was so loud that it was louder than a group of people.

The Firesmiths looked at each other at first, and then bowed again: "Honorable Dragon King!..."

Aemon stood up and took a look, his eyes flashing with light.

Labor Camp No. 1, it's done!

"Keep an eye on them, send two people back to notify the entire Firesmith Tribe, and let them come down the mountain and surrender."

Aemon gave an instruction, turned around and climbed up the Green Ridge.

Steve said, "Where are you going?"

"The other side of the mountain."

Aemon was full of energy and decided to ride the dragon to patrol the new territory.

"Roar!"

Vermithor opened his vertical pupils, impatience flashed in his eyes, and his upper and lower jaws chewed slightly.

Aemon climbed the rope ladder and saw the gray-black rock slag in the dragon's mouth.

Those were the remains of the dead.

"You are not picky about food. I really wronged you normally."

Aemon shook his head and laughed, without any resistance.

Dragons eat whatever they want.

The larger the dragon, the greater its food needs.

Vermithor has to eat more than a dozen sheep in one meal to feel full.

If he eats freely, he can eat twice as much.

Fortunately, the larger the dragon, the slower its digestion speed.

If you eat occasionally, you won't be hungry for half a month.

Otherwise, the Targaryen family really can't afford to feed these dragons.

"Roar!"

Vermithor glanced at the driver, stood on the edge of the Green Ridge Cliff and jumped down.

The man and the dragon haven't seen each other for a few days, and it still remembers the inexplicable anger a few days ago.

Isn't this just coming to the door.

Aemon was sweating profusely, and wiped the sweat with a wry smile.

Fortunately, the old dragon was well fed, otherwise it would be hard to fool.

"Hiss!"

Gray Shadow hiding in the corner saw the silver-haired boy flying away, and crawled out, flapping his wings and taking off.

That was a long-term meal ticket, and he must not lose it.

He put all his strength into catching up with the old dragon's tail.

"Roar!"

Vermithor growled, and saw the light gray-white young dragon from the corner of his eye, and the hot dragon flame accumulated directly in his throat.

"No! No dragon flame!"

Aemon was shocked and hurried to calm down.

Vermithor shook his body, and his brown wings cut through the clouds, finally giving face to the driver.

"Hiss!"

Gray Shadow screamed shrilly and chased after it with great effort.

Like a small fluttering moth, it hung behind the tail of the bronze dragon.

Aemon's face was blown by the breeze, and he looked back and saw the embarrassed look of Gray Shadow, and couldn't help laughing.

The size difference is too big.

Vermithor is about 85 meters in size, a little bigger than four years ago.

Gray Shadow was only six meters tall.

The size difference between the two sides was nearly sixteen times.

However, Gray Shadow still tried to catch up.

The sun was setting, and the sky was covered with red clouds.

Aemon flew dozens of miles on Vermithor and saw the main branch of the Moon Mountains.

The mountains stretched for hundreds of miles from north to south, corresponding to the Raven Ridge where they came from.

The tallest one among them was like a spear protruding into the clouds.

"What a high mountain, a natural barrier."

Aemon was amazed and looked down at the terrain below.

The foot of the mountain stretched for several miles.

It was adjacent to a large lake covered with green duckweed and vast.

The lake was calm and reflected the red and green brilliance under the setting sun.

A group of black swans wandered on the lake, causing slight ripples, lowering their heads to catch fish and play in the water.

"Hiss--"

Vermithor was used to being domineering, roared angrily, and circled around the towering mountains.

The black swans were startled and flew away, facing the setting sun.

"Be quiet, Vermithor!"

Aemon was quite speechless, and taught the old dragon a lesson.

Vermithor snorted heavily, retracted his wide wings, and landed on the top of the mountain.

"Hiss!"

Gray Shadow hurried over and fell exhausted halfway up the mountain.

Aemon laughed and looked down at the mountains, and a sense of pride rose in his chest.

I will climb to the top of the mountain and see all the mountains.

"Look, there is the Vale of Arryn."

Aemon patted his bronze scales and looked at the vast land opposite the mountain.

The area is larger than the entire Eastland Cape, and it can't be seen as a valley at all.

"Roar!"

Vermithor was very impatient, his bronze pupils were cold and ruthless, and he had no interest in this.

Aemon's eyes were like torches, and he muttered to himself: "Open up the river valley, connect the Vale of Arryn and the Eastland Cape from east to west, and the crops and food in the valley can be exported through Seagull Town."

"If we build a transit trade town, the tax revenue can feed an army."

Without using war, this is enough to make a lot of wealth.

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