Chapter 381: Cersei's Plan

"Demons."

"White Walkers."

"Gods."

At night, Viserys sat quietly in his study, lost in thought.

Recent events had been overwhelming, causing him a rare sense of anxiety. The matter of the black fog had always been his primary concern, as it pertained to his own safety. Now, this mystery seemed to be on the brink of resolution.

Combining the notes left by the Valyrian nobles with the nightmare he had experienced, he could make some deductions.

"Dreams in this world often carry strong implications. I seldom dream, but when I do, they are always of unusual things."

"The gods destroyed Valyria because they discovered that the Valyrians were trading with demons..."

"The Valyrians' rapid rise from a small nomadic tribe to the 'Dragonlords' was due to a deal with demons?"

"But what... what exactly are these demons?"

Viserys held a wine glass in his hand, the clear liquid swaying in the crystal goblet. He took a sip.

He had once been a man who despised tobacco and alcohol, but now, faced with vexing matters, he couldn't help but use them to distract himself.

In all the books he had collected that mentioned the word 'demon', none explained what these 'demons' truly were.

What did they look like? Three heads? Nine arms?

Or did the Valyrian word for 'demon' or 'sin' carry other meanings? Perhaps the Valyrians weren't referring to this concept at all.

Unfortunately, the information Viserys could gather was scarce. Archmaester Marwyn had explained that only a few of the most powerful families among the forty ancient houses held the core secrets of the Freehold.

The 'Shepherds' or 'Dragonlords' of House Belaerys held this secret, but House Targaryen, at the bottom of the forty houses, was not included.

The 'Dreamer' Daenys Targaryen had only prophesied a coming crisis, leading the entire family to relocate to Dragonstone, which was once an outpost of the Freehold.

The powerful Freehold had enslaved many civilizations, but never set foot in Westeros.

According to the records of House Targaryen, a legendary prophet of Valyria had foreseen that a crisis that could destroy the world would arise from the Sunset Sea region, so the Freehold stopped at Dragonstone.

"If the dream I had was real, then the towering black fog I saw as I fled Valyria might be the remains of one of the Fourteen Flames."

Viserys couldn't help but think, and then a flood of questions surged forth.

"So what exactly is beneath the remains of the Fourteen Flames?"

"Where does that bottomless abyss lead to?"

"The Seven Hells? Or the home of the demons?"

"Why were the Valyrians so obsessed with capturing slaves from all over the world and sending them to die beneath the Fourteen Flames? What were they trying to find in the depths of the earth?"

He had thought that the information obtained from this operation would be enough to unravel the mystery of the black fog, but it seemed to have revealed a greater secret and piqued Viserys's curiosity.

However, curiosity aside, Viserys remained very calm, knowing that now was not the time to stir up trouble.

The problem of the White Walkers had not been resolved, and he should not provoke the legendary demons yet, or the world would be in chaos.

Unless he could perform some sort of space-time transfer, sending the White Walkers and the army of the dead, who had now swallowed the entire North, and whatever Night King, all to the ruins of Valyria.

Let the monstrous creatures, humans, sea monsters, and dragons in the ruins of Valyria fight with these armies of the dead.

If that were possible, Viserys would look forward to it.

Then his gaze fell on the map not far away, and the military plan discussed by all the lords loyal to House Targaryen during the day.

The Dothraki and the Golden Company would serve as the vanguard. The Dothraki wanted to kill, and the Golden Company craved honor. They would be the first to land in Westeros.

And the Andal and Rhoynar armies would serve as the trump card, the main force.

And this time, Rhaenys was not left behind to rule the kingdom.

Because of the enemy they were about to face, Viserys, who wanted to challenge the Night King, naturally needed to go all out.

He needed another dragon rider to fight alongside him. Daenerys was too young, and the Princess of the new dynasty, who had combat experience, was naturally the first choice.

...

"White Walkers."

"Dragon."

"Dothraki."

In the Great Sept of Baelor.

Golden hair shimmered in the dim candlelight, a beautiful queen, regal and elegant, crossed her arms over her chest, lightly biting her white teeth, murmuring these words.

Then she turned to look at the knight in white standing behind her, her expression complex as she spoke.

"I once thought these things were only legends, but now, these things from legends have all appeared."

"I've seen the dragon bones in the cellars of the Red Keep. Robert didn't like them, so he moved them underground."

Recalling the first time she saw the dragon skulls, the beautiful blonde queen's face showed a hint of bewilderment.

"They... they're too big."

"I can't imagine how we're supposed

to defeat them."

"And besides, the Mad King's son has an army of sixty thousand, and the Dothraki."

The continent of Essos was not far away, but for a woman who had never left the Westerlands and King's Landing in her life, the Dothraki seemed as distant as a legend.

Legend had it that these savages ate human flesh, drank human blood, raped and pillaged, and committed all sorts of atrocities.

If she fell into the hands of the Dothraki, Cersei shivered slightly at the thought.

Yet these ferocious Dothraki had all submitted to that son of the Mad King...

"Can you defeat him, Ser Jaime Lannister?"

"Defeat the dragons? Defeat the Dothraki? And the elephants of the Golden Company?"

"What can we rely on?"

"My father's army or the shit-like gold cloaks of King's Landing?"

Cersei's sarcastic voice echoed in the Great Sept of Baelor. She might not be a military commander, but she understood the disparity in strength between the two sides.

Before the White Walkers appeared, the southern nobles scoffed at the idea, not believing it at all.

But when the White Walkers really came, and defeated the allied forces as easily as breaking dry twigs, swallowing the entire North, the southern nobles became like frightened birds, wishing they could flee to Essos for refuge.

Cersei was one of them. She had once thought that the White Walkers were non-existent, and her husband's departure from King's Landing conveniently allowed her and Jaime to carry on their affair. But when the White Walkers came, she was terrified.

"Yes, Cersei, we can't beat him."

"He has dragons, barbarians, armies..."

On the other side.

Also standing in the Great Sept of Baelor, the knight in white, hearing Cersei's sarcasm, had a belly full of fire, and finally couldn't help but speak.

"But are you sure that if we kill this old man, we can earn his forgiveness?"

"You should know that I killed his father!"

In the center of the Great Sept of Baelor, right beneath the seven-pointed star symbol overhead, the body of an old man with white hair lay quietly.