Bang!
Ormund's vision went dark, and he and his horse fell backward, instantly losing consciousness.
"Kill all of Hightower's minions!"
The Highgarden cavalry fought with increasing courage, launching outflanking maneuvers and turning the battle into a meat grinder.
"My Lord, be careful," Lord Thaddeus commanded the cavalry, cooperating with Lord Donald Tarly of Horn Hill.
Garlan, without a word, escorted by his personal guards, searched the battlefield for key members of House Hightower.
Ormund Hightower had considered a surprise attack on Highgarden a good strategy. But to Garlan and the two military-savvy lords, it was the perfect opportunity to break them. They chose to sit back and wait. Two heavily armored cavalry units, fewer than two thousand strong, ambushed the Hightower army on the banks of the Mander, where the roads were muddy and difficult to escape. As expected, they were annihilated in a single battle. Thus, he would solidify his authority as Lord of Highgarden.
"No, no, no!"
"I surrender…"
The Hightower army was in dire straits. Most of the commanders were unable to protect themselves, and their soldiers were even more vulnerable. Looking down from the sky, one could see a torrent of heavy armored cavalry, coalescing into a single force, charging through the mail-clad infantry of the Hightower army. Hooves trampled blood and flesh, and screams and wails echoed endlessly.
"Capture Ormund Hightower alive, knight him, and reward him with ten thousand gold dragons!" Garlan shouted.
In an instant, the army seemed to be on steroids. House Tyrell of Highgarden was synonymous with wealth; not everyone could afford to train heavy armored cavalry.
The sun rose to its highest point in the sky. The Hightower army was completely cornered, a despairing aura of death permeating the air.
Boom—
Suddenly, a golden flash streaked across the sky, as dazzling as a second sun.
"Dragonflame, Sunfyre!" a young man's excited cry suddenly rang out.
A golden young dragon swooped down, its slender neck slightly curved, its sharp snout gathering a scorching breath.
"What's that?" a soldier paused, staring blankly at the golden dragon.
"Dragon!" The eyes of a wounded soldier on the ground blazed.
Shouts of surprise echoed throughout the battlefield, twitching the nerves of those who knew them best.
"Hiss!" Sunfyre spread his wings and soared over the battlefield, spewing a stream of golden dragonfire. Below them lay a charging column of heavily armored cavalry.
Boom! The dragonfire slammed down on their heads, instantly scorching the armor of both riders and horses red-hot, causing the soldiers within to scream in agony. Worse still, the flames penetrated their helmets, singeing their heads instantly.
"It is Prince Aegon!" Lord Costayne, who had been attempting to break out, was overjoyed and immediately led his personal guards in a counter-charge. His roar rekindled the hopes of the Hightower bannermen. They turned in pursuit, seeking to rescue their long-abandoned lord.
"Hiss!" Sunfyre soared into the air, flapping his broad, pale-pink wings with a cry of delight.
"Wuhu, well done!" Aegon, clad in black steel armor, cheered, waving his fists on the dragon's back. He saw war not as a threat, but as his chance to be a savior. The dragon charged.
With the addition of a dragon, the tide of battle suddenly turned. A flicker of panic flashed in Garlan's eyes, and he reined in his frightened steed. The worst outcome had occurred: House Hightower had persuaded a prince.
"My lord, we must escort you away!" Lord Thaddeus, clear-headed, galloped over from a distance. The Hightower army numbered five thousand. Even five thousand pigs could not all be slain in a short time. A single dragon, commanding the skies, could briefly cripple Highgarden's two thousand heavy cavalry.
"Retreat! Retreat!" Lord Tarly, his eyes widening, made the same choice. Who would dare to confront a dragon head-on?
"Dragonfire!" Aegon roared with energy.
Sunfyre, transformed into a bomber, struck indiscriminately with dragonfire, setting the battlefield ablaze. Even so, the Highgarden side still suffered the most damage.
"Damn it!" Garlan gritted his teeth, feeling incredibly unwilling.
At this moment, amidst the chaos ahead, a knight scrambled back onto his horse, staggering as if he had just woken up.
"Ormund Hightower!" Garlan's eyes widened, recognizing the man. Hearing the distant cries of Lord Thaddeus, he surveyed the battlefield. "Go!" Garlan shouted, deciding to capture the king first. This was his only chance for victory.
Elsewhere, Ormund was helped onto his horse, his mind still hazy. In a trance, he saw a snow-white warhorse galloping towards him, atop which sat a dashing knight in silver armor embroidered with gold. The lance in the knight's hand was so sharp and glaring that it seemed ready to pierce his head.
"No! Stop him!" Ormund was horrified, pulling the guards beside him forward.
Garlan remained silent, leaning forward to keep his lance parallel, his legs clamped against the horse's belly as he accelerated. He had repeated this motion thousands of times; it was second nature. He only needed to get closer, closer. A lance, driven by the charge of a warhorse, could smash through the guards with unstoppable force, striking directly at Ormund Hightower.
At that moment, the chaos of the battlefield seemed to have been muted. Garlan's mind was completely focused, his gaze fixed on Ormund Hightower, whose expression was drastically changing.
Ten meters, eight meters, six meters… almost there. The lance's range was five meters; he was so close to success.
"Stop him, quick!" Ormund trembled in fear, grabbing the reins and turning to flee.
The next second, boom— a beam of golden dragonfire descended from the sky, streaking across the intersection of the two sides.
Garlan's hair stood on end, alarm bells blazing in his mind. A sharp neigh echoed as his vision was enveloped in gold, and half his body felt an infernal heat. In an instant, the snow-white warhorse tumbled forward, and the figure on its back slipped from the stirrups, falling into the mud and blood.
"Hahaha, charge!" Aegon laughed heartily.
To the Highgarden army, this scene was like the collapse of the heavens. "Rescue the Lord!" Lord Thaddeus screamed, charging forward first. A burst of neighing followed, and the mud-stained Rose of Highgarden was hoisted onto a horse's back. "Cover the Lord's retreat!" Lord Tarly remained calm, forming a formation to hold off the counterattacking Hightower army and buy his own side time.
The same scene, seen by the Hightower army, was a stark contrast. "Hahaha!" Ormund patted his intact body and laughed ecstatically. The aftermath of the dragon's flames had knocked his guards off their feet, but it had not hurt him at all. Garlan Tyrell, the Seven Gods are on my side!
"Charge!" Ormund suddenly gained courage, leading the charge regardless of the danger. His luck seemed endless. Sunfyre's dragonflames always evaded him, and enemy arrows grazed his side, striking his guards.
As dusk fell, chaos reigned along the Mander. Hightower soldiers cleaned up the battlefield and gathered the bodies of their comrades.
"My nephew, this victory is thanks to you!" Ormund beamed.
Aegon climbed down from the dragon's back, one hand resting on Sunfyre's neck. "My lord," he said pretentiously, "this victory belongs to Sunfyre."
Sunfyre neighed, rubbing his dragon's head affectionately against his rider. This moved the innocent dragon deeply. Aegon held his head high, pushed Sunfyre's head aside, and displayed his immaculate and heroic form before everyone.
"I will knight you," Ormund said, drawing his family sword, Vigilance, from his waist.
Aegon's spirits lifted. Aemon had been knighted at twelve, so fourteen was not bad either.
Ormund's smile faded, and with a serious expression, he placed the Valyrian steel sword, Vigilance, on Aegon's shoulder. After the oath, he was officially a knight.
Clap, clap, clap! The battlefield erupted in applause.
"Long live Prince Aegon!"
"Conqueror…"
Praises poured forth, shrouding Aegon in glory. He was stunned at first, but then a surge of pride at being recognized washed over him. He stood up and raised his hands. "Well done!" Ormund couldn't hide his joy, reaching out to pat his nephew's shoulder. "We will rest for the night and march on Highgarden tomorrow!"
Highgarden.
This once most beautiful castle was now shrouded in a deep gloom. Garlan was gravely wounded. Hit head-on by the dragon's flames, he had suffered extensive burns. Furthermore, the fall from his horse had broken both his legs, the bones of his ankles piercing the skin. The maester's diagnosis indicated that even if he survived, he would be bedridden for the rest of his life. From the elegant Rose of Highgarden to a severely disabled man covered in burns.
In the Lord's chambers.
"Ah, ah…"
Garlan was in a coma, his bandaged face revealing only his eyes and mouth, and he groaned in pain unconsciously.
"Ooo…"
Lord Thaddeus shook his head. "I have read the King's letter; he clearly does not want to participate." Besides, the lord's plight was the fault of the King's eldest son. Hightower had sought to invoke the royal banner, and they had proven successful.
"We still have tens of thousands of troops. We can set ambushes along Hightower's route," Lord Tarly, a master of strategy, planned to delay them.
Lord Thaddeus continued to shake his head. "Prince Aegon has a dragon. An ambush on the ground would be as conspicuous as pumpkins on a vine."
Lord Tarly's face darkened. "This will not work! Lord Garlan has become like this! How can we explain this to our allies?" Highgarden had mobilized more than just their two families; half the Reach had mobilized.
"Silence! Do not disturb the Lord's rest!" Lord Thaddeus barked. Hearing this, Lord Tarly turned away angrily. The two were related by marriage. House Tyrell was the Lord Paramount, House Rowan ruled the north, and House Tarly, on the Dornish Marches, was the most martial. The three houses had many intermarriages, forming a strategic alliance.
Thaddeus sighed and tried to persuade the weeping Lady Desiree. "Let us go out and talk, so as not to delay the Lord's recovery."
Lady Desiree wept bitterly, wiping her red eyes with a handkerchief as she went out. She had to cry. Old Lord Tyrell had only one heir, Garlan. She was a second wife, childless. If anything happened to Garlan, a distant branch of House Tyrell would inherit Highgarden, and as the former lady, her position was precarious.
The next day. Harrenhal.
Aemon sat on the cobbled parade grounds, mentally planning the transformation of Harrenhal.
"Your Highness," Ser Simon approached.
"What did Lord Lyonel say?" Aemon asked with an expectant smile.
Ser Simon spoke frankly, "Lyonel agrees. The Strongs will move as quickly as possible." To be fair, anyone living in Harrenhal, rumored to be cursed, would be terrified. Combined with the castle's dilapidated state, the living conditions were truly deplorable. With the curse and Alys Rivers as an excuse, it was perfectly logical to relinquish the responsibility of guarding Harrenhal. A win-win situation.
"Very good," Aemon generously pledged to fund the Strong family's castle construction. "Harrenhal needs to be rebuilt and needs an overseer. Do you think you are up to the task, Ser Simon?"
"Me?" Ser Simon was surprised.
"Yes, you," Aemon nodded with a smile. If anyone knew Harrenhal best, it was the man who had lived there for over sixty years. And this kind old man possessed a loyal heart. Aemon thought of the original timeline, where Ser Simon and his kin were abandoned by Daemon and brutally executed by Aemond. Why are Aegon and Aemond always picking on old men?
With mixed feelings, Ser Simon bowed with emotion. "Thank you for your trust, Prince." He was born and raised in Harrenhal. Even if it had a thousand faults, it was still his home. He had no regrets in his life. After a few brief remarks, Ser Simon strode away, looking years younger.
"What a lovely, fat old man," Aemon shook his head and chuckled. Then, he brought up the card panel. A vast white mist enveloped it, and three cards, half real and half unreal, floated.
[Flame Purification]: "Area-of-effect item, removes all negativity." The card featured a circle of flames, which, against the red background, looked very warm.
[Incubator]: "A single-use item." The card was blue, with an image of an incubator.
[Lucky Bag]: "Hang on a tree to bring good luck." The card is light green with a small sachet-like bag on it, hanging on a tree branch.
Three magic cards, prices are: 3200, 800, 88.
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