"What happened?"
A furious roar suddenly rang out from the clear sky. Those who heard it instinctively raised their heads and looked upward.
Yet there was nothing in the clear sky—still blue heavens and white clouds, the morning sun bright and clear.
"What was that just now? Thunder?"
In the war that had already been gradually approaching a boiling point, aside from those still fighting on the front lines, everyone who heard that roar felt a question rise in their minds.
At the rear, overseeing the battle, Lord of Highgarden Mace Tyrell, along with Willas Tyrell, the heir of Highgarden, also looked around with puzzled expressions.
Even far away in Highgarden Castle, across the Mander River and watching the battle from afar, the Queen of Thorns, Lady Olenna Redwyne, heard that sky-shaking sound.
Just as those who had heard the strange noise felt baffled and at a loss, an even louder roar ca again.
This ti, even more people clearly heard the dragon's roar coming from the sky.
At the sa ti, it allowed the confused crowd to lock onto the direction from which the sound ca.
Countless pairs of eyes lifted to look toward that direction.
It was north of the Reach.
No—more precisely, northwest.
In the sky, sothing visible to the naked eye was soaring, growing larger and larger.
Facing the rising sun in the east, it radiated a soft golden glow.
"What is that?"
Mace Tyrell gazed toward the distant sky, frowning as he watched that conspicuous thing beat its wings and fly ever closer.
Beside him, Willas stared at the golden figure in the sky in confusion—his brows first knitting together, then slowly easing apart.
An incredulous sound was forced from his throat.
"…A dragon?"
"That direction… should be… Casterly Rock?"
The instant he saw that figure clearly—recognized what it was—even though he stood in the springlike warmth of the Reach, Willas felt as if he were in the North.
At the mont he realized what that thing in the sky was, his once-calm mood was like being doused head-on with a basin of icy water.
He shuddered violently.
Yet the words squeezed from his throat were like those from the deserts of Dorne—dry and hoarse.
He wanted to do sothing, but discovered that he could do nothing at all.
Then, as the figure in the sky drew ever closer and let out a third roar directly above the people's heads, proclaiming the mont of its arrival—
Even those who were killing madly in the lee heard that roar, a sound they had never heard before, one that made a shudder spread from the scalp.
On a battlefield of nearly fifty thousand, together with the civilians nearby who also witnessed this scene, everyone lifted their heads to look at the miracle from the sky.
It was a figure once heard only in stories, now appearing vividly alive before their very eyes.
The next instant, a fla that likewise had only ever been heard of in stories—one not belonging to the mortal world—was spewed from the mouth of that golden figure that had co from afar.
Hell descended upon the world.
The fire from the golden dragon's mouth poured down like water from a watering can, rcilessly dousing every green figure on the ground.
"Dragon… a golden dragon… is that Robert?!"
Jon, who had been wholly focused on directing the battle, likewise only heard the dragon's roar above his head at the very last mont.
Yet when he instinctively looked up, before he could even make out what the soaring dragon in the sky looked like, the suddenly appearing dragon spewed a mouthful of dragonfire downward, precisely dousing his enemies.
In that brief instant, he only managed to see what color the dragon was.
Then, within that golden, pale-tinged fire, whether grass and trees, soil, people, or horses—
Even tal weapons and armor were no different under the burning of those flas.
All vitality, within this fiery hell, returned to nothingness, like an iron law beyond dispute.
"Withdraw—retreat! Pull our n apart. The dragon is His Majesty Kal's dragon—our ally!"
"Quick! Pass the order to retreat—separate, separate at once!"
Never having imagined such a thing, the sudden appearance of a dragon—and its attack upon his enemies—instantly stunned Jon, who had been wholly unprepared, leaving him frozen in the shock of that miracle-like sight.
But as he personally watched groups upon groups of the Reach's knights—who monts before had still been fighting their way through their knights—be drenched in dragonfire, rapidly burning, then in a short ti turning to char and finally to ash, Jon imdiately snapped back to his senses.
Life, in that mont, was more fragile than a single withered stalk of wheat.
Although the dragon's appearance threw the battlefield—which had previously been pursuing and fighting in an orderly fashion—into frightened chaos, at this critical juncture Jon, as the overall commander, still reacted at once, knowing what he needed to do.
Yet at that mont, no one's attention was on the war anymore. Beneath this dragonfire hell that was like the might of heaven itself, everyone was stunned by the scene before their eyes.
Only when Jon shouted several tis without receiving any response did he turn his head to look—and realize what was happening.
With no other choice, he yanked the reins and turned his horse around, personally riding to find the horn-blower nearby who was responsible for relaying commands across the battlefield. Grabbing him by the neck and slapping him awake several tis—
Only then were his orders finally carried out.
The horn sounded once more, becoming the only additional sound on the battlefield besides the wails of those being scorched by the flas.
It brought Kal's army—who had been watching their enemies slaughtered by the sudden dragon—back to their senses.
Once people distinguished that it was the signal for their own side to withdraw, the massed flow of troops that had been gathered together quickly separated apart.
At this mont, seen from high above, the black-and-green colors on the battlefield rapidly separated, and a clear dividing line appeared between them.
Robert, who had just plowed a scorched-black swath of ground along the way with dragonfire, happened to circle in the sky and turn his draconic head.
Flying high ant seeing far; it imdiately noticed the situation on the ground.
Then, before the air that had been heated to scorching by the dragonfire had ti to cool, another dragon's roar rang out.
The Reach's soldiers—whether standing dazed in place, or having co to their senses and wanting to flee yet finding it utterly too late—once again let out despairing wails amid renewed hopelessness.
And even this final trace that could be left to the world did not last long.
Once the dragonfire had washed over it, it vanished without a trace.
All that remained was scorching air that distorted people's vision, and on the blackened ground, crooked lumps of charcoal stood in all manner of postures—
So still burning, others giving off bluish smoke before collapsing into piles of charred remains when the wind swept past.
With the two armies separated, Jon withdrew the entire force in one breath back to the place from which he had previously ordered the army to advance, only then giving the order to halt.
The infantry instinctively crowded together, as if only by doing so could they gain even a small asure of safety.
The cavalry struggled to control their panicked horses, barely managing to pacify them.
But at this mont, even though Randyll Tarly was present within the army, he had no spare capacity left to reorganize the troops.
Because at this mont, everyone's gaze was fixed on the battlefield not far away.
The once gentle, warm breeze brushing across their faces had long since turned into heat waves, as if beside a blazing furnace.
From afar, the air above the battlefield shimred with distortion. A golden flying dragon circled endlessly, again and again spewing flas to scorch below.
Slaughter.
Unquestionable slaughter.
From the initial numbness of being massacred by the sudden flas, to the mont when the Reach's soldiers ca to their senses and realized that this dragon was deliberately hunting them down, it was only then—under the crushing weight of terror—that they reacted and understood they needed to flee.
What Jon and the others saw before them was precisely such a scene.
Raging flas swept across the land.
On the lush green earth, human figures scattered and fled in all directions.
Blinding swathes of charred black, like crisscrossing scars, bore witness to everything that had just occurred.
Yet even as people fled, the dragon showed no intention of letting them go.
And the mont the golden dragon flying high above saw the fleeing crowd beginning to scatter in all directions, it imdiately adjusted its tactics.
It no longer spewed dragonfire at places where people were densely gathered. Instead, it circled upward, changed direction, traced a sweeping arc, and deliberately drove the people on the ground to flee toward a single direction.
That direction held the largest river of the Reach, and also the longest and widest river in all of Westeros—the Mander.
This ti, the dragon no longer sprayed flas as wantonly as before. Instead, it fired in a deliberate, precise manner, carefully controlling the direction in which people fled.
...
"I said it before—the victory of this war was long since decided. I gave House Tyrell a chance."
"But they mistook my rcy for arrogance."
Just as Jon and the others stood there, dumbfounded by what was unfolding before their eyes and at a loss as to what to do, a voice suddenly sounded beside them.
A man clad in a teal-green brocade robe, likewise gazing toward the distant battlefield, strolled over to their side.
"Y-Your… Your Majesty."
Hearing Kal speak, Jon and the others were montarily stunned. Then, once they clearly recognized who the newcor was, the group led by Jon hurriedly turned toward Kal and dropped to one knee.
With Jon and the others taking the lead, those farther away also noticed that the king had arrived among them.
Thus, centered on Kal, a crowd of tens of thousands spread outward like a wave, all bowing their heads in respect.
Even the mounted knights followed suit, swinging down from their horses and kneeling on one knee.
At this mont, aside from the lingering heat still perceptible in the air, the atmosphere also carried a faint undercurrent of fervor.
"You did very well, Jon. You handed a satisfactory answer sheet."
Looking at Jon kneeling on one knee before him in respect, Kal nodded in satisfaction and patted him on the shoulder.
"Since the war is now over, I'll leave the battlefield to you."
"Yesterday, House Tyrell invited to visit as a guest. I believe it is ti for to fulfill that agreent."
Hearing Kal's words, Jon instinctively lifted his head to look at him. Seeing Kal dressed in brocade robes, he finally realized why the king had been so deliberately attired today.
It was as if—
He were carefully preparing to attend a banquet.
And just as Jon grasped this and montarily fell into a daze, a deafening dragon's roar suddenly thundered from the sky above their heads, followed imdiately by darkness falling before their eyes.
The sudden fright made the crowd instinctively duck their necks. When they reflexively looked up again, a massive figure—glowing with a faint golden light under the sun, its entire body radiating an oppressive, scorching heat—beat its wings and slowly descended.
It landed directly behind the man with short black hair, deep blue eyes, a tall and upright build, and a beauty that was almost inhuman yet carried an unmistakable masculine dominance.
The dragon stretched out its neck and let out a low rumble, as if calling out.
Then, obediently, it slowly extended its head—nearly half a man's height—and placed it on the ground, the position falling just a step or so behind and to the side of the man.
Witnessing this scene with their own eyes, Jon and the others could not help their throats bobbing as they swallowed hard.
For the reaper that had been slaughtering indiscriminately on the battlefield just monts before now appeared before this man as docile as a kitten.
Such an imnse contrast made people feel an instinctive unease, even as the shock rising from deep within their hearts grew heavier still.
One man and one dragon, their backs to the rising sun—their overlapping silhouettes cast a vast shadow that fell across the people below.
The dazzling sunlight stread through from behind, making that towering, domineering figure as impossible to look at directly as the glare itself.
Instinctively, people bowed their heads once more, but this ti they no longer dared to raise their eyes to look directly at the king.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Jon did the sa. Suppressing the shock in his heart, he replied in a solemn, steady voice.
Kal nodded, a faint smile on his face, then turned around. Taking a step back, he placed his foot squarely onto the wing that Robert had deliberately extended.
The golden dragon lifted its head, and Kal followed the motion, stepping forward and mounting the dragon's back.
"Deal with the prisoners properly. Do not let any routed soldiers cause accidental harm to civilians. We will remain here for so ti yet."
"And after that, it will be ti to settle matters with my two uncles."
Leaving these words behind, Robert snorted out a breath from its nostrils—scorching hot and flecked with sparks—blowing over those in front of it and making them feel heat surge through their bodies.
Then, in the next instant, the dragon slowly rose to its feet. After turning its head toward Highgarden and taking two steps in that direction, it suddenly beat its wings hard against the air, lifting itself—and the human upon its back—into the sky, flying toward the most beautiful garden of the Seven Kingdoms not far away.
High above, Kal looked down upon the routed soldiers gathered along the banks of the Mander. His gaze also caught sight of a spot among the fugitives where Willas Tyrell and Mace Tyrell were being guarded by a group of elite knights.
They, too, were looking up at the dragon in the sky.
From the mont the dragon had just departed to now, when it returned again, they realized sothing.
But they could no longer see the man on the dragon's back.
Casting them a calm, indifferent smile, Kal withdrew his gaze.
Then Robert continued to carry Kal toward Highgarden. After circling several tis above the castle of Highgarden, it finally found a spot and slowly descended.
Within the not-insignificant garden, an elderly woman with a full head of silver hair and a short stature was kneeling on both knees, reverently bowing her head to the ground.
Behind her, at least seven or eight attendants were following her lead, performing the sa gesture.
Robert's powerful, sharp hind legs landed steadily atop the most central—and highest—section of Highgarden's castle walls.
He then turned his body slightly and lowered himself, his entire form radiating scorching heat as he looked down at the elderly woman kneeling before him.
"Lady Olenna Redwyne, good morning. I have co as a guest at the invitation extended yesterday by Highgarden's heir, Willas Tyrell, and Lord Mace Tyrell."
Olenna, who was bowed low to the ground in devout obeisance, trembled instinctively upon hearing Kal's words—coupled with the violent rush of breath and the scorching heat filling the air.
Her shoulders quivered, and she slowly raised her head.
"The Tyrell family greets His Majesty King Kal Baratheon the First. To be honored by Your Majesty's presence is the Tyrell family's privilege. The Tyrell family feels imasurable honor and gratitude at Your Majesty's arrival."
"May you be willing to forgive the Tyrell family for its transgressions."
Olenna's voice trembled as well.
Standing in Highgarden, elevated and with a clear view, she knew very well what had just happened on the far side of the Mander River. She had seen everything with her own eyes.
Precisely because of that, she understood more clearly than anyone else just how powerful and terrifying the dragon before her was—and the man upon its back.
Just like the Targaryen family described in the histories from over a hundred, even two hundred years ago.
Yet in response to her words, there was only silence in the air, and an atmosphere that grew increasingly oppressive.
Within the unbearably scorching air, the backs of those kneeling in the garden were soaked through with sweat.
But no one dared move in the slightest. Even though their legs were already aching painfully from kneeling on the hard white marble slabs, they did not dare make any unnecessary motion.
And as the silence dragged on, even amid the searing heat, Olenna felt as though she had fallen into an icy abyss.
"You address as… King Kal Baratheon the First, Your Majesty, is that correct?"
At the very mont when her nerves were about to snap, the man atop the dragon finally spoke.
"Y-yes… yes!" The elderly woman, who had been trembling without pause, felt as though she had heard celestial music the instant Kal spoke, and hurriedly answered without pause.
"I thought that this form of address was sothing the Tyrells had specially reserved for Renly Baratheon… after all, before this, your family pledged loyalty to him."
"And was it not you who declared war on as well?"
Kal sneered, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Your Majesty, the Tyrell family did not wish for things to turn out this way at the beginning. It was only… we were deceived by Renly. He… he told us that King Robert had actually designated him as the heir to the Iron Throne, and had even issued a royal decree."
"But Eddard Stark usurped Robert's will and deceived us, telling us that Eddard Stark also intended to harm him and to keep him under control in King's Landing."
"In addition, with Loras Tyrell bearing witness, we believed him in our haste. We believed that Eddard Stark—and you as well—had stirred up a coup within the court."
"That was also why we departed King's Landing overnight and fled to the Riverlands."
"And it was only after we later learned the true information that we realized we had been deceived by Renly. But by then, it was already too late."
"Oh, right—Your Majesty Kal. After learning that the Tyrell family had been deceived, this old woman had my granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell, leave Highgarden."
"Because she privately told that the one she loves is you. It was for that reason that I helped her leave here, letting her go in search of you, to pursue her love."
"It was also to take this opportunity to tell you the Tyrell family's and Highgarden's true intentions…"
"Your Majesty, the Tyrell family did not act with malice. I ask that you see the truth clearly."
Kal sat upright upon Robert's back, silently listening to the explanations and defenses offered by the Queen of Thorns before him.
What Olenna did not notice, however, was that the more she spoke, the colder the gaze of the man atop the dragon beca.
Only after she finally fell silent and the air once more sank into the sa uneasy stillness as before did Kal speak again.
"You an to say that the Tyrell family was deceived—is that correct?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. I beg you to judge clearly." Seeing a possible turn in the situation, Olenna feared being even a mont too slow. "Margaery Tyrell can help us prove all of this."
Kal fell silent once more.
For a mont, he did not even know how to speak. Looking at the Queen of Thorns, who was behaving with such humility before him, he almost laughed in anger.
As a result, the chill in his eyes spread directly across his face.
"Lies."
"Shaless lies."
"Despicable lies."
"Lady Olenna, I am not a fool—and you should not treat as one by trying to deceive ."
"Dragonfire!"
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