Chapter 668: Attack of the Dragon

Thud—

In the city of Skyreach, upon witnessing his second son, Yaron, beheaded and displayed at the forefront of the enemy camp, Count Quentin Coghill of Sandstone Castle could no longer restrain his rage. He smashed the wine glass in his hand and abruptly stood up.

"My son!"

Quentin Coghill sought vengeance for his son. Beside him, the heir to Sandstone, Gullian Coghill, also stood up with a face full of grief and fury, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I will avenge my brother!" "I will sever Jon Clinton's head and send it to King's Landing!" "I will tell Viserys personally! We Dornish are not to be trifled with!"

Seeing the furious outburst of the Coghill father and son of Sandstone, the other Dornish nobles in the Skyreach hall quickly stood up to calm them.

"Lord Quentin!" "Lord Quentin!" "Sir Gullian!" "Please, temper your anger for now. We can avenge Yaron, but we cannot kill Jon Clinton."

Known as the 'Madman', Count Harman Uller of Hellgate Castle was ironically the most composed at that moment. He signaled his brother Ulric to stop Gullian.

Once everyone stood up to restrain the Coghill father and son, Harman Uller continued, "If we kill Jon Clinton, there's no turning back." "The Martell family won't spare us either."

Harman Uller's words instantly cooled the tempers of the Coghills. The rage that clouded their judgment subsided significantly.

Jon Clinton must live. Otherwise, there would be no chance for any reconciliation with the Iron Throne. If the Dornish Prince and the Martells sided with the Iron Throne, their rebellion would undoubtedly fail, and their heads would undoubtedly hang from the walls of King's Landing.

Though devastated by his son's death, Quentin didn't wish to die. Quentin Coghill regained his composure, but his eldest son, Gullian, remained somewhat discontent.

"If the Martells side with the enemy, then he is no Prince of mine!"

Gullian Coghill's words made all the Dornish nobles present change their expressions.

The Martells have a deep hold over Dorne. Prince Doran, who has been in the Water Palace for decades, still holds significant influence. It was only after the deaths of Kingsguard Lewyn Martell and Princess Elia Martell that some began to question Doran's courage. Why didn't he avenge his uncle and sister?

No one dared to openly defy the Martells, but Gullian Coghill just did, causing some unease among the nobles.

"Watch your words!" "The Martells are our Princes!"

The hall went silent after Gullian's statement. He was then reprimanded by his father. Realizing his mistake, Gullian's face turned pale, and he didn't dare utter another word.

"We must still avenge my nephew, Yaron."

The room was silent until the elderly Lord of Skyreach, Franklin Fowler, spoke with a hoarse voice.

"After all, Jon Clinton has gone too far, killing our envoy." "If we don't retaliate, our soldiers' morale will plummet."

Franklin Fowler felt the situation spiraling out of control. He just wanted to survive; that was his only wish after impulsively killing someone. He realized his mistake. He shouldn't have led his troops to attack Quentyn Beach. Instead, he should have done as Yaron had told him and pushed the blame onto his soldiers, claiming ignorance. However, it seemed too late now.

Suddenly, a clarion horn sounded from the walls of Skyreach, its resonating notes stirring the blood and echoing far and wide.

"What's happening?" "Is Jon Clinton daring to attack?" With a single horn, the nobles knew an enemy was near. But who? Was Jon Clinton mad to attack Skyreach with so few men?

But as they pondered, a chilling dragon's cry echoed above them.

"What is that sound?"

In the hall, the Dornish nobles looked up, puzzled.

"A dragon," Gullian Coghill murmured.

"A dragon?" As realization dawned, panic ensued.

"Dragon!" "It's a dragon!" "Run!"

But it was too late.

The vast, shadowy dragon Balerion descended from the sky, its wings creating a massive gust as it roared. The Fowler soldiers on the walls of Skyreach shot arrows, but they were like pinpricks.

Arrows ricocheted off Balerion's thick, coarse scales, falling back to the ground.

Then, with its vast maw wide open, Balerion aimed at the castle below. A deep cyan glow emerged from its throat.