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"Charge! Kill!!"
Two hundred Unsullied soldiers stood in tight formation, firmly guarding the wooden gate leading to the Grandstands.
Before them surged a tide of nearly twenty thousand enemies, consisting mostly of Myrish common folks with a scattering of Myrish soldiers.
With a sharp tearing sound, the Unsullied thrust their long spears forward with relentless precision. Those at the very front of the enemy horde were instantly pierced by countless spears, falling one after another into pools of their own blood.
Even when a few enemies, in the throes of death, managed to stumble into their ranks and deliver a desperate sword strike, as long as the blow did not strike a vital spot, the Unsullied remained unmoved. Their combat effectiveness was in no way diminished.
Although the Unsullied numbered only two hundred, they stood like immovable reefs amidst a raging sea, steady and unyielding.
Behind them, two hundred soldiers of House Velaryon stood frozen, their faces pale with fear as they stared at the enemy forces, which outnumbered them a hundredfold. Yet now, they realized that they hardly needed to lift a finger.
Suddenly, the sound of mighty wings tearing through the sky filled the air. Everyone instinctively looked up.
A colossal dragon with dark green scales, its wingspan stretching over seventy meters, soared majestically across the heavens, casting a vast shadow that seemed to blot out the sun.
The dragon roared mightily, its voice shaking the earth.
In the next instant, the dark green dragon swooped downward. Its jagged jaws unleashed a massive torrent of black and gray dragonfire.
Wherever the flames touched, Myrish civilians were instantly incinerated, their bodies reduced to charred husks. The overwhelming force of the attack scattered the tightly packed crowd, sending bodies flying through the air.
At the entrance to the wooden barricade, Leon appeared, carrying the corpse of Lord Corlys upon his back, protected closely by Stone and the others.
Until this moment, Leon had been fighting alongside Lord Corlys and had not witnessed Vermax's terrifying might firsthand. Now, seeing the dark green dragon effortlessly burning hundreds, even thousands of enemies as though they were mere ants, an involuntary chill gripped his heart.
The swordsmanship and physical strength he had always taken pride in felt utterly meaningless before such overwhelming power.
And it was not just the dragon that terrified him. Even the monstrous being who had slain Lord Corlys was an existence far beyond his ability to contend with.
Leon was filled with confusion. He recalled accompanying Lord Corlys to Asshai, the city famed for its magic. Yet there, apart from encountering a few charlatans with monstrous appearances but no real power, he had seen nothing truly beyond mortal understanding.
But now, one after another, unfathomable beings were appearing before him.
In truth, this was the difference that came from standing at different heights. One's vantage point determined what one could see.
Unlike the later era when magic faded and dragons became rare, this was still a time when dragons roamed the skies and the existence of gods and sorcery were not mere legends.
In his quest to rapidly strengthen his power, Jacaerys had shown no restraint. He desecrated temples, burned holy sites, massacred entire city and town, and built horrifying towers of skulls across Essos.
Such audacious actions naturally disrupted the interests of many and provoked retaliation from local forces.
Yet after several failed assassination attempts, it became painfully clear to these forces that strength below the level of the extraordinary was utterly useless against Jacaerys.
Thus, the hidden powers of Essos, long concealed in the shadows, were forced to reveal themselves in an attempt to oppose him.
Returning to the present.
The Myrish civilians and the two thousand slave soldiers who had been gathering toward the Magister's Plaza were of a different sort.
Unlike the slaves, who had been driven to desperation and fought with the courage of men who had no other choice, these civilians had no such resolve. They lacked the spirit to fight to the death, knowing full well they were doomed.
After Vermax unleashed two rounds of dragonfire, sweeping back and forth across the plaza, terror swept through the remaining fifteen thousand Myrish civilians. Chaos and mass flight erupted among their ranks.
At that moment, four mixed forces, each consisting of Unsullied, soldiers from Bloodstone, and Tyroshi conscripts, emerged from the four directions surrounding the Magister's Plaza.
Each force, numbering a thousand men, advanced with the Unsullied forming the sharp tip of their spears, sealing off all the surrounding streets.
The shrill whistling of arrows filled the air.
As the fleeing civilians stumbled into range, they were either felled by volleys of arrows or run through by the relentless Unsullied spearmen.
Although the Myrish civilians had numbers on their side, they had no commanders to organize or rally them.
Under the combined assault of Vermax from above and Jacaerys's disciplined armies from all sides, they fell into complete disarray, as helpless and frantic as ants scalded by boiling water.
The four forces moved like an enormous fishing net, methodically closing in and driving the panicked civilians toward the center of the plaza.
Banners bearing the black three-headed dragon of House Targaryen rose high as the four armies advanced steadily toward the Magister's Plaza.
Leon kept his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes flickered with unease.
He had already sensed something strange about this gladiatorial spectacle. Now, his suspicions grew even stronger.
The armies had arrived too swiftly, as if they had known in advance that an assassination attempt would take place.
Nevertheless, the dying command of Lord Corlys echoed clearly in Leon's mind: from this moment onward, he was to obey Jacaerys without question.
High above, Vermax reigned unchallenged in the skies. Without any anti-air ballista defenses in Myr, he could unleash the full fury of his black and gray dragonfire without restraint, slaughtering the civilians below and harvesting trait points at a terrifying rate.
Most of the civilians who had dared to resist were already reduced to ashes, while the few who had lost their will to fight hid desperately inside buildings near the Magister's Plaza.
Yet these trapped prey, whether they survived the flames or not, would eventually be rooted out and slaughtered by Jacaerys's soldiers.
The outcome of the battle near the Magister's Plaza was already certain.
With a loud crash, Vermax descended heavily upon the highest tower of the Magister's Palace, his massive dark green form coiling powerfully around the spire.
Seated upon the dragon saddle, Jacaerys drew a telescope (Myrish eye) from his cloak.
Perhaps out of fear of leaving behind incriminating evidence, Magister Moser had previously handed over his personal telescope to the Faceless Men.
Jacaerys's men had retrieved it while scavenging among the corpses on the Grand strand, and it now served him well.
Raising the single-lens telescope to his eye, Jacaerys carefully surveyed the current state of Myr.
The battle raged fiercest around the Magister's Plaza at the city's center. Yet even in the four other quarters of the city, the air was filled with the sounds of fighting and thick columns of smoke.
It seemed that many of the original inhabitants of Myr had seized the chaos as an opportunity to riot, looting and burning with wild abandon.
Jaecarys's forces, though formidable, were limited in number. At this moment, there was no spare strength to quell the outbreaks of violence sweeping through the city.
Aside from the four thousand troops stationed at the Magister's Plaza, the remaining soldiers were positioned at Myr's four city gates to maintain control.
The common folk of Myr, confronted by fully armed and disciplined soldiers under Jaecarys' command, would never dare attempt to breach the heavily fortified gates.
However, for Magister Moser, who had replaced himself with a Faceless Man in an attempt to deceive, escape meant he had no choice but to break through the siege with force.
As expected, through the lens of his telescope, Jacaerys soon spotted fierce fighting breaking out at the eastern gate of Myr.
A rush of wind sounded as Jacaerys' thoughts moved swiftly. Vermax, the dark green dragon, instantly leapt down from the peak of the Magister's high tower, spreading his vast wings and gliding like a shadow toward the east gate.
At the eastern gate, the sounds of clashing iron and cries of battle grew ever louder. The garrison defending that gate under Jacaerys' banner numbered merely two or three hundred men, and most of them were soldiers from the Tyroshi expendable regiments.
They were capable of fighting well when conditions favored them, but once the fighting became fierce, their role was no more than to delay the enemy for a time.
The reality proved just so. Magister Moser, leading a force of nearly seven hundred cavalrymen he had gathered beforehand, needed only to expend a little effort before successfully breaking through the defensive line at the gate.
The sharp, rhythmic beat of horse hooves echoed over the open ground.
After escaping through the eastern gate, Magister Moser immediately urged his mount into a gallop, leading his soldiers with all haste toward the Disputed Lands lying further to the east.
Just then, another sound rumbled across the land, deep and thunderous like the distant roar of a brewing storm. The earth itself seemed to tremble under the approach of another force.
Charging across the horizon came an overwhelming tide of unexpected visitors. They were a wild and fearsome sight: tall, broad-shouldered warriors with bronze-toned skin and long black braids, who shouted strange war cries as they brandished curved blades under the noonday sun.
It was a Khalasar, a great host of nearly seven thousand Dothraki riders, thundering toward Myr in a massive stampede.
These fierce nomads were the hidden reinforcements that Magister Moser had secretly prepared as his last resort.
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[Chapter End's]
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