Game of Thrones: The Bronze and Fire Lord

"Let's go together and kill him!"

The frightened spearmen chose the most conservative way to fight.

Clang!

Aemon clamped a spear with his left-handed sword and pierced the attacker's chest with his right-handed sword.

A strong wind blew in from behind. He pressed his left wrist down and stabbed back.

Before the attacker could get close, Aemon's sword pierced his lower abdomen.

"Stop him!"

Seven or eight people swarmed up and lined up their spears to stab forward.

"Stupid."

Aemon looked down on them, contemptuously waving his two-handed sword left and right to block the spears and cut them off one by one.

Taking advantage of the enemy's moment of distraction, he charged into the crowd. His left sword cut off one person's neck, and his right sword pierced another person's chest.

His movements were smooth, with none of the clumsiness usually associated with two-handed swords.

After a few rounds, corpses lay with their eyes wide open.

Aemon exhaled foul breath, stepped over the corpses, and walked toward Syrax.

He is young, but the title of "Warrior in the World" is not undeserved.

After choosing to learn martial arts at age eight, no one forced him to study.

When he became proficient with a two-handed sword at the beginning of this year, he did so of his own volition.

Even the commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Harold, commented: "Unless there's a half-giant wielding a sword over 1.8 meters long, no one can stop him with a two-handed sword."

"Hiss!"

Gray Shadow bombed the backside and flapped its wings to fly over.

It still remembers who feeds it.

Rumble!

At the same time, the sound of galloping horses came from the front of the path.

"Knights of the Valley, crush the mountain clans!"

Gunthor raised the two-point flag and led 180 knights from the Prince's Camp and the Red Fort to gallop forward.

The mountain clans were already frightened by Syrax, and immediately became easy targets when facing the knights of the Valley.

The war horses knocked them back, and many were trampled into paste.

"It's still timely."

Aemon glanced at Syrax and walked not far from him.

At that moment, dozens of spearmen were besieging them, but they were frightened by the dragon's roar.

They did not dare move forward.

"Rhaenyra, are you crazy?"

Aemon strode over and cursed.

The idiot who killed people was not responsible for his death, but the one who died was not hers.

"Ah!"

Hearing the familiar shout, Rhaenyra blinked and looked around blankly.

Aemon's face was ashen, and he shouted, "Get up! Control your dragon!"

"Yes!"

Rhaenyra woke up as if from a dream. She lowered her head and dared not look at anyone.

She realized what she had done.

"Hiss!"

Syrax saw the driver, his pupils dilated, and the bloodstained dragon approached like a naughty child asking for praise.

"Fly!"

Rhaenyra was so guilty that she shouted, "Fly, Syrax! "Fly, Syrax!"

Syrax tilted his head in confusion. He flapped his wings, stirring up a gust of wind, and kicked off with his hind legs, flying on the spot.

"No, run!"

"Catch the silver-haired boy. We'll take hostages."

The spearman could not open his eyes because of the wind, but he was still thinking about saving his life.

"Good idea."

Aemon sneered and rushed forward with two swords.

He was very angry now.

There was a crisp ding-dong-dong sound, and more than a dozen people were knocked down in the blink of an eye.

"Run quickly! This kid is a monster!"

"No, there's a tin man over there..."

The spearman was torn, but he chose the side that seemed weak and alone.

Aemon was fearless, facing seven or eight sieges at once.

The two swords rotated, forming a cold lotus and dancing tightly.

Clang!

Suddenly, a spear attacked from behind, stabbing him in the lower back.

Aemon swung his sword, cutting off someone's head, and turned back to face the attacker.

It was a thin boy with a sallow complexion and blood on his animal skin. He was lying on the ground, pretending to be dead.

Seeing the spear pierce the other party, his face instantly showed ecstasy.

However, when he stabbed forward, it was as if he had stabbed into stone; he felt no flesh or blood.

Aemon looked surprised and said, "It must be painful to stab someone in the waist."

Without a way to save his life, how could he dare rush in and kill anyone who stood in his way?

Unexpectedly, he was really surprised.

The thin boy tried again, but still could not get in. He raised his head in disbelief.

Coincidentally, Aemon was looking at him.

When their eyes met, the fear in Aemon's eyes overflowed.

"I'm sorry."

The thin boy wanted to cry, but he had no tears.

"It's okay. I forgive you."

Aemon smiled slightly and said gently, "Be careful in your next life," as a sword pierced his joyful eyes.

The blade crushed his heart, and his body fell to the ground.

"Run, run!"

"He is a monster..."

The spearman saw this scene, no less than a bolt from the blue, which completely shattered his psychological defenses.

He ran wildly toward the valley knight and the dragon and did not dare look back.

"Haha, that's all you have."

Aemon laughed sarcastically, exuding the aura of a king who could conquer everything.

This was different from the benevolent kingly way of his uncle, Viserys.

It was also not the evil way of his father, Daemon.

It was majestic and overbearing.

It showed an upright person who could crush all evil under the general trend.

"Yo, yo—"

A white deer cried from behind, struggling to get up.

"My great white, I'm so heartbroken."

Aemon dropped his iron sword and walked over to remove the spear from the white deer's chest.

Fortunately, the spear had a stone tip that pierced the fur but not the bones, causing only superficial injuries.

The white deer shuddered and blood gushed from the wound. It lowered its head and rubbed its master.

The injury was not serious; the deer wanted to carry its master.

"Humans are not as good as deer."

Aemon was deeply moved and secretly swore: "I must exchange a protective item for Great White." He couldn't bear to leave such a good Great White.

"Hiss!"

"Hiss..."

Syrax and Gray Shadow intertwined and soared. The dragon flame pushed across the narrow path, burning the Mountain Clan back step by step.

In just half an hour, the situation was settled.

"It's time to harvest the spoils."

Aemon led the docile white deer forward over the scattered corpses.

The Mountain Clan Alliance had attacked and caught them all in one fell swoop.

...

A quarter of an hour ago.

In the river valley, at the Alpine Dragon's Nest.

A bronze dragon lay in a cave, hot air blowing out of its nostrils; its body was like a big furnace.

Swish!

The dragon suddenly opened its vertical pupils, and a hint of anger flashed in its eyes.

It stood up, shook its wings, and gravel fell to the ground in a thin stream.

Just as it was about to climb out of the cave, its huge body froze.

The dragon subconsciously glanced southward, and doubt appeared in its bright, bronze, vertical pupils as if it were confirming something.

After a while, it lay down again.

Its vertical pupils closed, and it continued to sleep.

...

Half a month passed in a flash.

Thousands of people wearing animal skins with hemp ropes tied to their feet crowded the protruding shore of Long Lake.

Directly opposite them was the River Valley City, nestled at the foot of the mountain.

The terrain differs greatly between the two sides, and looking up, one can only see the emerald dome of the palace.

At that moment, River Valley City was holding a grand event.

After the Midsummer Hall, the second main hall, Evergreen Hall, was completed.

Behind Evergreen Hall is the prince's bedroom.

According to the palace's layout, the bedroom is on the inner side of the palace and is considered the third main hall.

Palace walls made of white bricks and yellow tiles surround it, and a magnificent gate stands between the two palaces.

Wide courtyards comparable to football fields, all paved with white marble, are located in front of and behind the gate.

The bright colors of the red bricks and black tiles of the main hall give the palace a distinct color tone that is solemn yet not cold.

The palace has the simplicity and grandeur of a castle and the pleasant scenery of garden architecture.

It is an ideal place to cultivate one's body and mind.

In front of the Evergreen Hall,

Aemon sat on the white marble steps, looking down at a group of elderly women and children wearing animal skins.

They are obviously all from the mountain clans.

"Call the chieftains of the tribes."

Aemon Targaryen crossed his arms, his eyes revealing depth.

Half a month had passed since the melee in the mountains.

The three allied mountain clans had suffered a devastating blow, and all the survivors had been captured and imprisoned in River City.

It's time to dispose of the waste.

"Yes, Prince."

Steve stepped forward and pulled out an old man and a young man.

Many people gathered in front of the hall for formal occasions.

Adrian and William stood guard on both sides, and Gunthor led a team of valley knights to guard the door.

Johanna, the housekeeper, held a big, fat, black-and-striped cat in her arms and stood at the door of the hall with Jansif, who assisted her.

Almost all the important figures in the valley were present.

Rhaenyra was not there.

She was ashamed to be seen by people and was hiding in Raven Hill, focusing on road repair.

Plop!

An old man and a young man knelt at the bottom of the steps; they looked like grandparents.

Aemon looked at the old man, who had gray hair and bone ornaments, and said lightly, "Are you the chief of the Painted Dog Tribe?"

"Yes, the honorable Dragon King."

The old man bowed his head and pressed his grandson's head down in a sign of respect.

Aemon nodded secretly. A man who knows the times is a hero.

"Honorable Dragon King, please give your order."

The old man trembled, truly looking like a frightened old man.

Aemon asked calmly, "How many people are left in the three tribes now?"

The old man's wrinkled face squeezed together as he said bitterly: "Two large tribes and one medium tribe. Including the old and young, there are fewer than 6,000 people."

There were three tribes in the ambush: the leading Painted Dog Tribe, the Burning Man Tribe, and the Black Ear Tribe, which was rich in spearmen.

The Burning Man Tribe was the worst and was decimated by Syrax in the melee, leaving only 300 to 500 survivors. They were almost exterminated.

The Black Ear Tribe captured two thousand young, strong men, as well as more than one thousand women and children. However, the chief fled into the mountains and forests, abandoning the tribe.

The people were all scattered.

More than half of the Painted Dogs were killed or wounded, leaving only a few hundred warriors. Fortunately, the elderly and children hid properly and most survived.

Aemon nodded and got straight to the point: "You are the only remaining leader of the three tribes. Swear allegiance to me, and I will give you a way out with a future."

The combined population of the three tribes is more than twice that of the valley.

Reorganization and disbanding are aspects that a leader must consider.

"Honorable Dragon King, we are willing to surrender."

The old man had no intention of resisting. He begged, "But please don't kill the elderly or children of the Painted Dogs. They will work hard like the young and strong."

According to the mountain clan's rules, useless people will be killed after defeat.

"I am not a tyrant. I will not kill anyone who kneels before me."

Aemon recognized the conqueror's soft and hard methods and put them into practice.

The war is over; there is no need to create more hatred.

Cruelty is not praised in Westeros.

"Thank you."

The old man's eyes filled with tears. He opened his mouth and bit off a finger, smearing blood on his forehead.

Then, he wiped it on his grandson's forehead.

Aemon frowned slightly and asked the key question: "How many skinchangers are there in your tribe?"

"Five."

The old man didn't dare lie.

Aemon was surprised and said, "So many?"

There was no free tribe outside the Great Wall with five skinchangers.

The old man sighed and said, "The other three are dead, leaving only my grandson, Aguda, and me."

The old man had changed into an old dog that couldn't run. His grandson was talented at skinchangers, but he didn't have a mountain dog he could control.

Aemon thought to himself.

In the large tribe of 5,000 people, there were three useful skinchangers.

One was the black-haired minke who was killed at the beginning, causing the skinchanger to die on the spot.

A mountain minke was eaten by Gray Shadow, causing the skinchanger to go insane.

The last one died in the chaos, and no one knew how.

There are no ready-made skinchangers available!

Aemon was a bit disappointed and said bluntly, "In the future, there will be no three tribes, only the Black Stone Clan, led by the Painted Dog Clan, and the Burning Clan, led by the Firesmith Clan.

You and the old blacksmith of the Firesmith Clan are familiar with the work. Persuade the high mountain clans in the prisoner camp to surrender and join the River Valley City project."

"Yes, Your Highness."

The old man immediately changed his words, and Aemon waved his hand to give a guarantee. "As long as River Valley Town is completed, you will all be promoted to subjects, and you won't be inferior to anyone."

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