Chapter 40: The Blood Wyrms Descend and the March to Dilora
The morning after the momentous Game of Chance draws, a new, awe-inspiring sight greeted the Myrosh Castle. As the sun crested the eastern hills, a disciplined column of riders, unlike any seen in Essos for centuries, approached the main gate. Two hundred and fifty men, clad in full, gleaming Valyrian steel plate armor, their horses equally armored and impossibly large, moved with a silent, synchronized grace. Their lances, tipped with Valyrian steel, pointed skyward, and short swords, also of the dark, rippling metal, hung at their hips. These were the Blood Wyrms, the Divine-rank heavy cavalry summoned by the System.
No one had seen them coming. No one expected such a force. But Maegor, already at the castle entrance, awaited them, Blackfyre a silent, dark presence at his side. He had felt their arrival, a powerful resonance in his blood, a deep thrum of ancient power.
As they reached the gate, the lead rider, a man of imposing stature with a stern, battle-hardened face, dismounted with a fluid grace that belied his heavy armor. He knelt, his armored knee hitting the stone with a soft clang. The rest of the Blood Wyrms followed suit, a wave of disciplined steel dropping to the ground.
"My King," the commander intoned, his voice deep and resonant, his High Valyrian flawless. "I am Maenyx, commander of the Blood Wyrms. We are here to serve the Dragon. We are ready to fight for you. To fire and blood."
Maegor looked at them, a cold satisfaction settling in his heart. He had asked for power, and the System had delivered a living legend. He did not show his elation, maintaining a regal, unyielding demeanor. "Rise, Commander Maenyx," Maegor commanded, his voice imbued with Draconic Persuasion, cementing their innate loyalty. "Your arrival is a testament to the might of the Dragon. Welcome to Myrosh. Your blades will be vital."
He then turned to one of his Royal Knights. "Find an empty storehouse in the town, just outside the castle walls. It will serve as temporary quarters for the Blood Wyrms. Then, gather workers immediately. Begin construction of a proper barracks for them. Spacious, secure, and built to last. They are to have the finest accommodations this land can provide."
The knight saluted and hurried off. Maegor spent the rest of the morning personally inspecting the Blood Wyrms, their armor, their mounts, their weapons. Each piece was a marvel, a testament to lost Valyrian craftsmanship. Their discipline was absolute, their loyalty profound. They were a silent, terrifying force, ready to be unleashed.
With the Blood Wyrms settled, Maegor immediately set about consolidating his other forces. He summoned Ser Kaeto to his solar.
"Ser Kaeto," Maegor instructed, "send ravens to Lord-Master Costos in Paenerion and Lord-Master Gyran in Vyrodos. Inform them that their fealty is appreciated, and their new King requires a contribution to his army. Each barony will send one hundred men-at-arms to Myrosh Castle. These 200 men will be trained as archers. We need ranged support for our armies."
Kaeto nodded, already drafting the orders in his mind.
"The remaining 300 men-at-arms from those baronies, who are not suitable for archery, will be added to our Myrosh Light Infantry," Maegor continued. "They will swell Brundo's ranks. Commander Brundo will now officially command a total of 413 Myrosh Light Infantrymen. They will be drilled rigorously, integrated seamlessly."
"As you command, my King," Kaeto replied. "The archers will be a welcome addition. And Brundo's infantry will be a formidable force."
A few days later, Maegor summoned Khal Drogo and Lord-Commander Barristan Selmy to his solar. The campaign to secure Vyrodos and Paenerion had been a resounding success, and now it was time to plan the final, decisive strike in the County of Ergos.
"Khal Drogo, Lord-Commander Barristan," Maegor began, his voice firm, "your victory in Vyrodos and Paenerion was swift and decisive. You have proven your worth, and the strength of our combined forces. My gratitude, and the gratitude of House Targaryen, is yours." He allowed a rare, approving nod.
Drogo grunted, a flicker of pride in his eyes. Barristan merely bowed, his face stoic.
"Now," Maegor continued, his gaze sweeping over the map of Ergos County, focusing on the westernmost barony. "We turn our attention to the final prize: the Dilora Barony. Its capital, Dilora Town, is the seat of the county governor, Commander Balio, a direct vassal of Magister Erando Drahar of Myr. This will be a harder nut to crack. Balio will have the strongest garrison in the county, and he will expect support from Myr."
"We will give them a month to prepare," Maegor declared. "A month to gather our strength, to integrate our new recruits, to hone our tactics. And for this conquest, I will join you. I will lead the army myself."
Barristan's eyes widened slightly, a rare expression of surprise. Drogo's face split into a wide, fierce grin. To ride with the King, with the Dragon, was the greatest honor.
The month of preparation was a whirlwind of activity. The 200 new archers were quickly integrated and given basic training under Lyra's oversight, their Northern hunting skills making them quick studies. The 300 new infantry recruits swelled Brundo's ranks, adding depth and resilience to the Myrosh Light Infantry. The Blood Wyrms, under Commander Maenyx, drilled relentlessly, their thunderous charges shaking the very ground, their Valyrian steel gleaming.
On the morning of their departure, the Myrosh Castle courtyard was a sea of armed men. Ser Barristan Selmy stood at the main gate, overseeing the castle's defenses. "My King," he said, bowing, "Myrosh is secure. The 150 Castle Guards – 50 Valyrian Swordsmen and 100 Myroshis – will hold this stronghold. We await your triumphant return."
Maegor, mounted on his Sand Steed, Blackfyre at his hip, surveyed his army. This was a force unlike any other in Essos.
100 Myrosh Light Cavalry: Swift and agile, ready for flanking maneuvers and reconnaissance.413 Myrosh Light Infantry: Brundo's disciplined foot soldiers, ready to hold a line.200 Myrosh Archers: Lyra's new ranged support, capable of raining death from a distance.250 Blood Wyrms: Commander Maenyx's elite, armored heavy cavalry, the true hammer of his army.2,000 Dothraki: Khal Drogo's chosen screamers, the wild, terrifying heart of his host.
Balerion, now truly a terrifying sight, circled high above, his shadow falling over the assembled host, a living god of war.
"To Dilora!" Maegor's voice boomed, amplified by his Commander's Presence, carrying across the vast courtyard and beyond. "To victory! For the Dragon!"
The combined army surged forward, a disciplined storm of steel, horse, and fire. They moved west, towards the Dilora Barony, a land ripe for conquest.
The march to Dilora was swift and relentless. Maegor rode at the head of his army, Blackfyre a dark, humming presence at his side. He used his Valyrian Insight to read the terrain, to anticipate ambushes, to guide his forces through the most advantageous paths.
They encountered the first resistance at the approaches to Dilora Town – a small, fortified outpost manned by Commander Balio's men. Maegor did not hesitate. He unleashed the Blood Wyrms.
"Maenyx!" Maegor roared, pointing with Blackfyre. "Shatter them! Show them the meaning of true heavy cavalry!"
Commander Maenyx and his 250 Blood Wyrms surged forward, a thunderous wave of Valyrian steel. Their armored horses were unstoppable, their lances piercing through the enemy lines with impossible precision. The Aura of Discipline radiating from them stiffened the resolve of the Myrosh Light Cavalry and Dothraki who followed. The defenders, seeing the gleaming, unyielding charge, felt their wills drain, a subtle effect of Blackfyre's power radiating from Maegor, and the sheer, terrifying sight of the Blood Wyrms. The outpost fell in minutes, its defenders broken and scattered.
As they approached Dilora Town itself, a larger force, perhaps a thousand men under Commander Balio, stood arrayed before the walls. They were well-armed, disciplined, clearly expecting a conventional siege.
Maegor did not give them one.
"Archers!" Maegor commanded, "Loose on their flanks! Brundo, advance your infantry, hold their center! Khal Drogo, prepare to encircle their rear! Maenyx, with me! We strike the heart!"
The 200 Myrosh Archers unleashed a devastating volley, their arrows raining down on the enemy's exposed flanks. Brundo's 413 Myrosh Light Infantry advanced in a disciplined shield wall, absorbing the enemy's initial charge. Khal Drogo's 2,000 Dothraki swept wide, a terrifying, screaming tide, cutting off any escape.
Maegor, with Commander Maenyx and the 250 Blood Wyrms, became the spearhead. Balerion shrieked, diving low over the enemy lines, a terrifying black shadow. Maegor spurred his Sand Steed forward, Blackfyre a dark blur in his hand. He crashed into the enemy's center, directly at Commander Balio's position.
Blackfyre moved with unparalleled precision and speed. Maegor was a whirlwind of dark steel, every strike lethal, every parry flawless. The sword hummed, and with every blow, he felt the subtle drain on his foe's will, their courage dissolving before his very eyes. Commander Balio, a capable soldier, found himself overwhelmed, his defenses crumbling under Maegor's relentless assault and the sheer, terrifying presence of the Blood Wyrms. Balio fell, his armor cleaved by Blackfyre, his will utterly broken.
The battle was short, brutal, and utterly decisive. The enemy, caught between the disciplined infantry, the encircling Dothraki, the raining arrows, and the unstoppable charge of the Blood Wyrms led by a literal Dragon Lord wielding a legendary sword, shattered. They broke and fled, only to be cut down by the relentless Dothraki.
Dilora Town, the capital of Ergos County, was his.