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Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

As soon as I opened my eyes, I found myself in the world of Game of Thrones as the second son of House Targaryen, the brother of the Mother of Dragons, Viserys! I found that the timing of this transmigration was a bit too bad. At this time, the Targaryen dynasty had already fallen, the guards who protected me and my sister had already died, there was no rice in the house, and there were people outside collecting debts. And I, after selling my mother's crown, became a Beggar King. Putting aside the matter of restoring the kingdom, I have to pay back my debt first. *This is a Translation* Name: 权游龙二哥 Author: 浴前带膘侍卫 Transliteration: Quan Youlong's Second Brother Author: Fat Guard Before Bath Raw:xiaoshuo.qq.com/detail/1049152280 Keep in mind that in the only available raws I found, there are only 100 public chapters, the rest are behind a paywall. I got more chapters by paying for coins or by acquiring them in the Chinese app.

BlurryDream · Bücher und Literatur
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382 Chs

Chapter 127: Halfway to Victory or Just Wishful Thinking?

Tyrosh was, of course, not going to use the sellswords for a frontal assault, as that would incur additional costs. Instead, the Windblown's main task was to block Lys's retreat. Toland's camp was positioned on the east side of the Dragon's Flame, while the Windblown camp was stationed to the south.

Viserys, not wanting to approach Toland directly, first informed the old captain of the unusual situation he had observed, using "suspicion" and "speculation" as pretexts. The old captain chose to believe him and led Viserys to Toland's camp.

As expected, the Tyroshi soldiers maintained their elaborate hairstyles even in the barracks. They gathered in small groups, like peacocks flaunting their feathers, competing to showcase their hair and beards. Braiding their beards was routine, but some preferred to straighten and dye them in various colors, as if they were wearing a colorful curtain over their mouths.

Soon, they arrived near Toland's tent. The situation here was slightly better; the soldiers guarding the tent were mostly Unsullied. Due to Archon Kambron's preferences, their hair was all neatly dyed green, which at least provided a more orderly appearance. Additionally, the Unsullied didn't grow beards, so the uniform green was easier on the eyes.

Suddenly, Viserys heard music and revelry coming from Toland's tent, and a sense of foreboding gripped him. After being announced, they entered the tent, and the scene before him made Viserys's heart sink. This was no general's command center—it was a party.

A long table in the tent was laden with food, fruit, and wine. Toland and his commanders were drinking and carousing, while several slave girls danced before them. Some of the men, emboldened by drink, began to grope one of the dancing girls. Toland, holding a wine glass, laughed loudly at the praise from others, his cherry-red hair swaying lightly with his laughter, clearly enjoying himself. Viserys noticed there was even a carpet on the ground. 'Was this a war or a banquet?'

He recalled that in the original novel, the Archon of Tyrosh had tried to end the war with Lys through bribery. Seeing how these men behaved, it was easy to understand why they had failed. 'Already celebrating the victory? It was no wonder they had lost.'

When Toland noticed the arrival of the Tattered Prince and Viserys, his eyes flashed with contempt. Raising his head, he said, "What's the matter?"

"Lord Toland is planning to attack Dragon Flame Fortress from the west, correct?" the old captain inquired.

"Why else would I have my troops here?" Toland replied with a sneer. The old captain, however, remained unfazed. After nearly thirty years as a mercenary, he was well accustomed to unusual situations.

"We've heard that the Lys have set up some traps on the west side, so we've come to warn the general to be cautious."

"Hmph!" Toland's expression darkened as he slammed his wine glass down on the table. He then said coldly, "I appreciate the Tattered Prince's concern, but your mission is to watch the south and ensure that Lys don't escape."

At this point, the commanders beside Toland began to chime in:

"We outnumber them three to one. What kind of trap could possibly stop us?"

"Exactly!"

"It seems the old captain is being overly cautious."

Though one of them spoke in defense of the old captain, his tone still carried a hint of mockery. "If a sellsword has survived nearly thirty years in this business, there's probably a reason for it."

In the eyes of the Tyroshi, who were focused on business, they saw themselves as the dominant party. How could a subordinate party dare to dictate terms to them? Such behavior suggested a lack of awareness of their own status.

Facing the ridicule, the old captain remained expressionless. "Since Lord Toland has already made his plans, we won't trouble you any further," he said, before turning to leave. Toland made no response, simply watching them go with a cold stare.

Once outside the tent, Viserys asked, "Commander, is Lys in a better position than they are?"

The old captain sneered. "A city controlled by merchants and alchemists? It can't be much better." Viserys trusted the old captain's judgment. In the original story, the Tattered Prince had accurately predicted the defeat of the Wise Masters of Meereen before the Battle of Meereen, even reaching out to the Mother of Dragons beforehand. His assessments of power dynamics were always precise.

The current situation resembled two poor chess players locked in a game, with the Windblown acting as mere bystanders, able to support only a few moves. Even if Tyrosh were to lose, they would simply retreat to the area around the Shield Lake, but they would still be required to pay their debts.

Not long after, perhaps having tired of his revelry, Toland ordered his entire army to prepare for an attack. He positioned the slave soldiers at the front, the free men in the middle, and the Unsullied at the rear. Though the Unsullied were also slaves, many regarded them as valuable property and were reluctant to use them recklessly. Their professionalism and loyalty made them more prized than ordinary slave soldiers.

Viserys "live-broadcasted" the battlefield situation through the golden eagle soaring above. From the sky, Toland's army appeared as a mass of "iron mud," steadily advancing toward the ruined Dragon Flame Fortress, which drew them in like a magnet. As anticipated, Toland ordered his soldiers to assault the relatively flat western side of the fortress. As the Lys defenders retreated, the mass of iron mud began to form a "promontory" of at least 4,000 to 5,000 soldiers.

Viserys directed the golden eagle lower, focusing on the area where the Lys had recently buried their "land mines," curious to see what his opponents had in store. Suddenly, a series of explosions erupted. The mines did not cause significant damage but instead released a thick cloud of blue-green smoke. The smoke quickly enveloped the 4,000 to 5,000 soldiers.

Amidst the smoke, the Tyroshi soldiers, already disoriented by the explosions, found themselves in severe discomfort. The thick smoke stung their eyes, rendering them unable to see, and breathing became increasingly difficult. Toland, stationed at the rear, noticed the chaos unfolding at the front and felt a deep sense of foreboding.

"Charge! Charge! Hold them back!" Toland urgently commanded, sending the Unsullied around him forward as a supervisory force, attempting to drive the retreating soldiers back to the front lines. However, the number of Unsullied was far too small to control the mass of panicked troops.

As the smoke began to dissipate, the Lys forces, who had initially retreated, launched a counterattack. The advancing Lys soldiers, combined with the retreating Tyroshi troops, created a chaotic wave that crashed against Toland's defensive line. The collapse of the Tyroshi forces was swift and overwhelming, and Toland, who had been "commanding" from the rear, suddenly felt as though the entire battle was crumbling around him. The urge to flee gripped him.

Yet, in a last desperate attempt to salvage the situation, he gathered all the Unsullied he could and, with the remnants of his sanity, seized the collar of a nearby nobleman. Shouting, he commanded, "Go! Bring me the Windblown!"

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