Chapter 545: The Fall of Oldtown

The opening of the gates signified the vulnerability of Oldtown.

Yet, the Oldtown defenders at the gates resisted fiercely, repelling the Dornish armies several times.

But eventually, their defenses were broken. Hordes of Dornish soldiers flooded into the city, engaging in fierce skirmishes in the alleys. Each cobblestone path bore witness to the intense combat.

Oldtown, known for its serene beauty and tranquil ambiance, with its wide rivers and meandering streams, was once reminiscent of a picturesque southern riverside village. But now, the scars of war marred its charm.

"Attack!"

In a narrow lane, several Dornish soldiers wearing white turbans faced armored men from House Hightower.

Both sides, eyes bloodshot with fury, lunged at each other.

Clang, clang—

The clash of weapons erupted, with sparks flying. In the confined alley, the swords of the knights were restricted, but the Dornish scimitars seemed more agile.

Thud—

A Dornish soldier's scimitar struck the armor of a Hightower knight, leaving just a scratch. The Dornishman hesitated for a moment, only to be pierced by a longsword.

Spurt—

On the other hand, a Hightower soldier's throat was sliced open by a scimitar, blood gushing out as he fell to the ground.

"Damn savages!"

A blood-stained Hightower knight, eyes slightly reddened, glared at the enemy with profound hatred.

Dorne and the Riverlands have been arch-enemies for millennia, their enmity only briefly pausing when the Seven Kingdoms united and Dorne bowed to the Iron Throne.

Both sides roared and clashed again, swords meeting in fierce combat. Ultimately, blood was spilled, and they tumbled together into an Oldtown river.

The battle began at dawn and continued till dusk. The Dornish army gained ground, while the Hightower forces were pushed back.

Both armies, now exhausted, knew retreat would mean total defeat.

But then, as the sun set, a distant and majestic dragon's roar echoed. Thunderous rumblings grew nearer.

Boom—

The ground trembled. Both fighting factions turned to see the approaching force.

Against the backdrop of the setting sun, a massive shadow soared in the sky, and on the horizon, countless Dothraki horsemen, like an unstoppable tide, charged toward Oldtown.

The Dothraki, fresh from their victory against the Hightower forces by the Honeywine river, approached with an air of triumph, their presence overwhelming any remaining Hightower resistance.

Boom—

The pounding of hooves was deafening.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo~"

Countless Dothraki warriors, under the setting sun, raised their arakhs, which gleamed menacingly. They charged through the gates previously held by the Dornish.

"Move! Make way!"

The Dornish leaders, upon seeing the fearsome Dothraki, ordered their men to clear a path. The Dothraki, blindfolding their horses for the charge, recognized no allies.

Dozens of Dornish soldiers, unable to move in time, were trampled.

"Move! Make way for the cavalry!"

The Dothraki onslaught was unstoppable. Their charge altered the tide of battle in an instant.

The Hightower soldiers, unaccustomed to the Dothraki's brutal warfare, were overwhelmed. Their men were either cut down by arakhs or trampled under charging horses.

In the sky, the dragon soared, casting a vast shadow below, and let out a deafening roar.

Some Hightower soldiers, still resisting, gazed at the dragon perched on the city walls and drew their bows. A rain of arrows followed, but they merely bounced off the dragon's thick scales.

Balerion, eyes burning red with fury, seemed irritated by the 'harassment' from the soldiers below. Opening its massive maw, it unleashed a torrent of dragonfire.

Screams echoed as the defiant Hightower soldiers were reduced to ashes. The remaining, panic-stricken, dropped their weapons and fled.

Balerion then turned its attention to a prominent black structure in Oldtown and flew towards the Starry Sept.

Meanwhile, the Dothraki, having broken through the city's defenses, swiftly crushed the last hopes of House Hightower. Their soldiers were mercilessly trampled under horse hooves.

"Ohharat!"

A topless Dothraki bloodrider unsheathed his arakh, its blade pointing towards the Citadel.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo~"

A chorus of howls erupted from the Dothraki ranks. Waving their arakhs, they surged towards the Citadel.