Chapter 7: Courage

Thud—

Viserys tumbled awkwardly onto the bloodstained road, his once pristine blue velvet coat now muddied.

Startled, a warhorse galloped past him, its thundering hooves causing the pebbles on the ground to quiver.

The prince's ears rang, and he fell to his knees, curling into himself.

Gasping for air, Viserys propped himself up on his hands, his cheeks flushed with heat.

"I..."

He wanted to say something about having survived, but his racing heart caused his blood to rush.

However, the tense and ever-changing situation didn't allow him any time for sentiment.

Sir William's sword now lay not far away, a bit soiled but still glinting coldly.

The sounds of battle filled the air, blood splattering as both sides fought with fury.

Viserys, still on the ground, looked toward the slightly heavy sword that lay not too far away.

"I..."

And then, he didn't know where he found the courage and strength.

"Damn it!"

The silver-haired boy gritted his teeth and struggled to get up, ignoring his pounding heart. He dashed toward the sword, clutching it tightly.

The cold sensation.

The icy aura of the blade seemed almost solid.

In his previous life, Viserys might not have dared to wield such a sharp weapon, fearing he'd break the law or hurt himself. But now, the sword felt incredibly familiar.

In this chaos, everyone was struggling to protect themselves, and no one could protect him...

Only he could.

The silver-haired boy clenched his teeth, hugging the sword as he silently vowed.

He wouldn't surrender like a rabbit, no matter who wanted to kill him. Even in death, he'd bite off a chunk of his enemy.

"I will..."

But just as Viserys was trying to muster his courage—

A 'bandit' who had just fallen off his horse after having its leg severed rose to his feet, one hand propping himself up on his sword, the other holding his head, swaying unsteadily.

His leather armor was slashed open, leaving a ghastly wound. He had narrowly escaped being disemboweled, saved only by a stroke of luck.

Underneath the ruined armor, a glimpse of red and a golden lion emblem were revealed.

~In the blink of an eye~

-Moments earlier—

The Red Keep guard who had severed the horse's leg was instantly killed by others, the battle raging on intensely. The bandit was spared a killing blow.

As he recovered, he pushed away his comrade's corpse and rose, shaking his head. He then saw the boy in the center of the battlefield, clutching the sword.

That signature silvery-gold hair, the pale purple eyes like gemstones, and the delicate, almost girlish face. The sword-wielding boy had noticed him as well, his previously resolute gaze now filled with panic.

Like a frightened rabbit.

He didn't expect to be targeted by an enemy just moments after making a vow.

The unmasked bandit, seeing this unprotected 'big fish,' slowly let a sinister smile spread across his face as the wind blew away the black cloth covering it.

He didn't care one bit.

Brandishing a longsword, he took slow steps toward Viserys.

A Targaryen prince without protection was like a fish on a chopping block.

No matter how noble his birth or pure his blood, once he would have been deemed unworthy of even kneeling before the boy's toes.

However, at this moment, neither the prince's noble birth nor his pure blood could save him from the blade of a commoner.

Viserys, whether paralyzed by fear or some other reason, stood motionless on the spot.

His breath became slightly rapid, gripping the sword that had belonged to Sir William, its tip aimed at the approaching attacker.

His mind went blank, filled only with the words the middle-aged instructor had taught him earlier.

"Learn to stab your enemy with the sharp end."

Unbeknownst to Viserys, a thick black fog gradually swirled behind him, taking on an indescribable shape, with a pair of crimson eyes opening within the fog, fixated on his back.

A scarlet hue crept into Viserys' eyes, his breathing grew heavier, and he tightly clutched the longsword.

~In the blink of an eye...~

Boom!

Horses charged.

Hooves kicked up a mixture of blood and mud.

William Darry, covered in blood from head to toe, uncertain of whether it was his own or his enemies', wielded his longsword with blood dripping down its blade.

He raised it high as his horse galloped past the bandit, slicing a bloody arc through the air with his sword, striking down with full force.

Thunk!

The next second.

A severed head went flying, followed by a fountain of blood.

Whoosh~

The middle-aged man's bloodstained, curled hair gave him a fierce appearance, having lost all reason in the carnage. He clenched his horse between his legs, then swiftly switched the sword to his left hand.

Thud, thud...

Horse hooves trod on the blood-soaked mud.

As he dashed past Viserys, he leaned down, pressed his body against the horse, and scooped up the young prince, placing him behind him while urgently commanding,

"Your Highness, hold onto me!"

The middle-aged instructor had noticed the danger Viserys was in just in time, and quickly galloped over to slay the enemy, rescuing the young prince who had been prepared to fight to the death.

The steaming hot blood of the enemy splashed onto Viserys' delicate face, snapping him out of his daze as his body shuddered.

The black fog behind him, invisible to others, slowly dissipated, and his clear, gem-like, purple eyes regained their clarity.

He swallowed hard, clenching his teeth.

Only then did he realize what had just happened.

He... he had almost fought the enemy to the death?

Where did he find the courage?

However, already on the horse with Sir William and hearing the instructor's words, Viserys didn't hesitate to cling tightly to him.

An enemy had been decapitated just three feet away, their blood splattering on his face, yet Viserys felt no urge to vomit. In fact, he didn't even have the chance.

Instead, he became more determined, clenching his fists.

Because he knew that now was not the time for nausea if he wanted to survive.

His young body burned with ignited passion.

For a seven-year-old boy, few could say they were braver than he.

"Kill!"

The battle cry, like thunder erupting from a knight's throat, once more resounded through the bloodstained path.