Akharz zo Azarak, don't be afraid, the plan is halfway complete!"
Kraznys mo Nakloz said to the terrified, sweating Qohor nobleman, "Mero and his men have already infiltrated! It won't be long before this seemingly powerful army crumbles and collapses without a fight!"
However, Akharz zo Azarak continued to nervously wipe away cold sweat.
"What good is killing Viserys Targaryen? Haven't you seen those children? In just a few more years, they will become new Dragonriders!"
Upon hearing this, Akharz zo Azarak frowned.
He recalled the history of the Ghiscari Empire and the Valyrian Freehold, and how similar the situation was to today!
However, before they could even begin to argue, the tremor of the ground had already reached the feet of the negotiating team.
At first, it was just a subtle tremor, but in an instant, the vibration turned into a dense drumbeat, spreading along the yellow earth road, making even the camels laden with gold paw at the ground uneasily and let out low whinnies.
Akharz zo Azarak sat on the back of a giant elephant, clenched his fists, and looked up at the eastern dunes.
The direction from which the Dothraki cavalry had charged earlier was now obscured by a sky-darkening cloud of dust, within which hundreds and thousands of black silhouettes vaguely appeared, surging towards them like a tide.
No sooner had he spoken than the first rank of Dothraki riders broke through the dust.
Their horses' muscles bulged, each warrior was bare-chested, their bronzed skin covered in indigo blue patterns, and sharp arakhs hung at their waists, the gems inlaid in their scabbards reflecting dazzling light in the morning sun.
Even more alarming was that some riders carried slings and short spears on their horses' backs, the spearheads glinting with cold light.
The long cries of the Dothraki cavalry had not yet dissipated over the yellow earth when the clouds to the west suddenly tore open.
At first, only a rapidly expanding shadow appeared on the horizon, followed by a heavy gust of wing-wind that swept in, covering half the horizon like a dark cloud.
"What is that?"
Akharz zo Azarak's eyes widened, his mouth agape as if he could swallow an entire egg.
No sooner had he spoken than the envoy group gasped in shock at the sight before them.
Below the clouds, a giant dragon, its entire body burning with golden-red flame patterns, was slowly descending.
Its scales shimmered like molten gold in the sunlight, each one radiating a scorching luster, and its outstretched wings spanned over thirty yards, their bony edges like sharp battle-axes.
As its wings flapped, the yellow earth below was stirred into a sky-high dust storm, forming swirling pillars of earth.
"It's Sunfyre!"
Viserys Targaryen's voice came from the dragon's back, carrying an undeniable authority.
He stood upright on Sunfyre's neck, his silver-white hair blowing backward in the wind.
Looking at the ill-intentioned envoys below, Viserys Targaryen had no desire to entangle with them.
The next moment, the Great Master's whip, representing the highest authority of Astapor, was casually tossed to the ground by Viserys Targaryen.
"The power of a dragon is not just Dragonflame," Viserys Targaryen said with a sneer, looking at the people before him.
"Compared to the scouts and ravens you send out, dragons are the swiftest overlords in the sky!"
"You heavily guard Qohor, so Astapor and Meereen naturally become empty shells!"
At these words, Kraznys mo Nakloz's face instantly turned pale.
Viserys Targaryen's unspoken meaning was all too clear.
Apart from Qohor, the other two slave cities had evidently already fallen.
"Impossible, absolutely impossible!"
Kraznys mo Nakloz was on the verge of madness.
Wasn't Viserys Targaryen supposed to attack Qohor?
How could he have known to divide his forces and attack the other two cities in advance?
In just a short negotiation interval, how could such large cities as Astapor and Meereen have fallen?
Viserys Targaryen was too lazy to explain to him.
Everyone realized the terrifying combat power of the dragons, but they never considered that dragons also possessed agile mobility.
While they were diligently defending and garrisoning Qohor, Viserys Targaryen had led the Dothraki cavalry to the other two cities.
As for the Second Sons' conspiracy, the assassination? That was non-existent!
"Thump, thump!"
Before the envoys could react, the heads of Daario Naharis and Mero were thrown before the envoy group by Brienne of Tarth, who had just arrived.
For Viserys Targaryen, finding two able-bodied men among a pile of Unsullied was simply too easy!
"What?"
This time, even Akharz zo Azarak couldn't remain calm.
However, Viserys Targaryen did not give them any chance to breathe.
"Dragonflame!"
Hearing his master's command, Sunfyre slowly opened his giant maw, revealing the golden flames within, churning like molten lava.
A scorching aura instantly permeated the air, and even the Unsullied soldiers in the distance could feel a stinging sensation on their skin.
The faces of the Dothraki warriors were instantly replaced with terror, and many instinctively clutched their arakhs.
The fear originating from the depths of their bloodline made their breathing quicken.
The Bloodriders reined in their restless warhorses, staring intently at Sunfyre, fearing that the golden flames would suddenly descend and turn them to ashes.
"Next, take that city for me!"
Viserys Targaryen stood on the back of the golden dragon Sunfyre, pointing at Qohor in front of him and shouting loudly.
Below, the roar of the Dothraki cavalry was like thunder, and their war cries spread through the ranks like wildfire.
Their arakhs glittered in the sunlight like a shimmering lake.
The Unsullied marched in synchronized steps, their spears striking their shields, creating a chilling rhythm.
Sunfyre felt his master's excitement, and he spread his massive wings, ascending rapidly into the sky.
On the city walls, the Golden Company commander, Harry Strickland, lowered his spyglass, his expression grim.
"He's here."
He said to Brown Ben Plumm, the acting commander of the Second Sons, who stood beside him.
No one expected that an assassination attempt would not only fail to even touch a hair on the young King Viserys Targaryen, but would instead result in the loss of two commanders of the Second Sons!
Brown spat into his palm, staring at the giant crossbows on the city wall, his eyes sinister: "Let him come, we have ways to deal with him."
Though he said this, Harry Strickland knew he was bluffing.
The imperceptible muscle tremor under Brown's tunic had not escaped his eyes.
Although the Golden Company had twenty thousand men, the Second Sons had five thousand, and he still held the advantage of city defenses.
However, Harry Strickland knew that the dragons of Old Valyria possessed the ability to turn the tide of any battle.
The outcome of this battle was unknown!