Game of Thrones: I Became a Crown Prince For a Day Chapter 385

Chapter 385 Daemon's determination, blood worms burn the city

At dusk.

The setting sun casts a brilliant red glow, painting the waters of Tyrosh like an ink painting.

Dozens of warships were anchored to form a solid defense line.

A small island with a temporary camp.

Facing the setting sun, Damon raised his head and looked at the sky, his deep eyes showing complexity.

The jet black armor is covered with scars, and the red cloak is draped on his elbows.

At first glance, he looks like a general enjoying a moment of tranquility.

However.

Hand holding the wrinkled letter paper, the foreigners chattering behind the scenes ruthlessly ruined this beautiful scene.

He personally led his army to besiege Tyrosh. His good nephew sent him a letter today asking him to wait, and a letter tomorrow asking him to wait.

The other Fanbang people looked at the corpses of their companions and were almost frightened, and they wanted to run away.

Furthermore, Daemon has traveled to the Free Trade City-States for many years and is good at recruiting and buying mercenaries to serve him.

A group of soldiers guarding the camp quickly took action, drew out their long swords, and swarmed the foreigners into a hornet's nest.

Damon took out the dragon-wing helmet tucked under his arm and walked towards the chattering foreigners expressionlessly.

At this time, the Fanbang people were not aware of the danger and were making an aggressive noise.

“A bunch of clowns are really noisy.”

“Hehe~”

Ten years after leaving Westeros, the reputation of the Ranger Prince is still as strong as ever.

"you…"

He followed the instructions of his good nephew and helped capture the two city-states of Myr and Lys one after another, which can be said to be a great achievement in battle.

“Prince Daemon, I advise you to retreat as soon as possible. The king will give you your weight in gold.”

Damon stared silently, pulling up his cloak and wiping his dirty helmet.

Before the war started, he discussed with his brother that after capturing a city, he would entrust it to him.

Disgust flashed in Daimon's eyes, he grabbed one person's head, rounded up the dragon-winged helmet and smashed it hard.

Damon glanced at him, his eyes as sharp as razor blades.

Now that two city-states have been taken, the good nephew has no attitude and says nothing about allocating a city-state to him.

Rhaegar has a group of elite Second Sons who are loyal to him to the death, and Daemon, as his uncle, will only have more people.

After dragging down the **** body, the soldiers gathered around Damon and knelt in a circle.

　　While Dorne is invading the Stormlands, Lannino who is assisting him will also be transferred away.

In the adjutant's trembling eyes, the letter was torn into pieces, and confetti stained with the blush of the sunset was thrown up in the sky.

　　【Besieged but not attacked, waiting for Myr and Lys to send troops to support...】

Damon ignored the little adjutant, looked away, smiled, and took the time to glance at the clearly written letter.

Even though Prince Daemon's voice is very calm, one can feel the bone-chilling coldness radiating from his body at close range.

“Prince, the letter said half a month…”

　　Bang! Bang!

There was a series of pleasant muffled sounds, and the noise suddenly stopped, leaving only bursts of blood splashing.

Damon's face was stained with blood, and a devilish sneer hung on the corner of his mouth, as if he was swearing: "I will conquer Tyrosh with my own hands, and I will conquer a city-state bearing my name."

Ignoring the fierce noise, Damon called an adjutant and said calmly: "Lanino rode away on Haiyan?"

Damon shook his head, with a hint of sarcasm on his lips.

“Still waiting.”

Each of the Fanbang people had colorfully dyed hair and mercenary leather armor on their bodies. They could tell at a glance that they were from Tyrosh.

“Yes, Ser Lannino heard the news and came to the support of the Stormlands.”

The adjutant's face tightened and he answered tremblingly.

Damon shook his head and laughed. He handed the letter to the adjutant and asked casually: "How long do I have to wait?"

"If the Iron Throne's army does not retreat, Braavos and Dorne will destroy the Iron Chair..."

“Half a month?”

There was a crash.

Well, if he can't conquer the two cities with one man and one dragon, he won't want them.

The adjutant's voice trembled, and he timidly glanced at the other person's face.

Soon, a dead body with a smashed head was thrown to the ground.

At the beginning of the Narrow Sea War, he single-handedly raised an army of no less than five thousand men.

Damon glanced around at his subordinates, combed his long, messy hair from his forehead with his blood-stained hands, and put on his helmet without saying a word.

“Prince, where are you going?”

The adjutant looked anxious and asked timidly.

Without looking back, Daemon said coldly: "Go back to your master and tell him to go back to Dragonstone to nurse. Rhaenyra will soon have breast milk."

He was impatient to wait for any city-state to collapse from within.

He will immediately, immediately, pay the price of blood and fire to seize a city-state of his own.

A scarlet dragon shadow flashed across the sky filled with fire clouds, and its sharp roar spread across the sea for miles.

Colakshu dived down from the clouds, flapping his wings and landing swaying.

Daemon quickly climbed onto the dragon's back, leaned over and stared at his men, shouting coldly: "Notify the entire army to attack Tyrosh at night!"

“Hiss…”

Colakxiu's eyes flashed with bloodthirsty color, and he took the driver into the air, twisting his body like a snake and soaring out of the sea.

At night, a bright moon hangs high in the sky.

Tylosi.

The port is heavily guarded, with dozens of warships patrolling in batches, and huge bonfires lighting up the night like day.

"Perform patrols carefully and don't let spies from Westeros sneak into the city-state!"

Several lookouts stood side by side. The bearded mercenary captain yelled and cursed his subordinates unceremoniously.

Tyrosh's fleet could not leave the port, but it surrounded the city-state and made it an iron barrel that water could not pour into.

Suddenly, thin clouds stirred in the sky, and a cool sea breeze blew.

The slender behemoth is hidden in the sky, with a pair of cold purple eyes observing the garrison below.

Fifty nautical miles away from Tyrosh, dozens of warships gathered, hiding in the vast sea under the night, just waiting for an order.

The residence of the Maharaja.

Milov, who was a mercenary, enjoyed life peacefully, sleeping soundly with two beauties in ragged clothes in his arms.

Inside and outside the mansion, two thousand soldiers directly under the mercenary regiment were guarding the house at all levels, and not a single fly could enter. The mansion is huge in size, with pavilions and pavilions in the front yard and flowing water in the backyard garden.

In a white stone attic, candlelight lit up the dark night, and a dozen men and women dressed in luxurious clothes had a private meeting.

boom!

A bearded man hit the table hard and said angrily: "Milov is a bastard. What does he think of us? How dare he put us under house arrest!"

“He is a lowly mercenary and a liar with no credibility.”

An old red-haired woman answered and complained bitterly.

The rest of the people either responded or remained silent, and a depressing emotion filled the room.

They are a group of villains at the top of the richest pyramid in Tyrosh.

After the Second Battle of the Stepstone Islands, the city-state was burned by a dragon and the rich suffered heavy losses.

Milov, a young mercenary, took advantage of the situation and rose up. With the wealth looted during the chaos and the armed forces under his command, he selected the king, under the banner of avenging the Iron Throne for the city-state.

Facts have proved that the credibility of mercenaries cannot be fully trusted.

Milov was a cruel tyrant. Although he did not attack the rich, he used worse means to plunder the money of the common people.

When the war broke out, he commandeered a large sum of money from the rich in the name of purchasing armaments.

Mir fell, and he reached out for it again.

Lis fell, and the Three Women's Kingdom was in danger.

Milov intensified his efforts, not allowing the rich to escape early, and designed to imprison them in his private residence.

“Everyone, please listen to what I have to say.”

A middle-aged purple-haired man with a solemn face spoke.

“What do you have in mind?”

The rich people stopped complaining and stared at him.

The purple-haired middle-aged man said calmly without changing his expression: "Milov's dishonesty has caused Tyrosh internal and external troubles. I know that everyone here has raised a group of private soldiers, so why not kill him."

The red-haired old woman sneered: "Kill the king, and who will stop the Iron Throne's army for us?"

“That's right…”

Several rich people with strange expressions nodded in agreement.

Although they are under house arrest, they are not free to exploit others.

If you really want to go out, you can leave through some collusion between the inside and outside, but it's just a waste of money.

Otherwise, there would be no chance for a group of people to meet privately.

The purple-haired middle-aged man said in a deep voice: "Myr and Lys have fallen, and Braavos and Dorne are watching the fun. Do you really think Milov can stop the dragon?"

Hearing this, the bearded man who spoke first rolled his eyes and asked, "What deal did you make with the Iron Throne?"

Suddenly, the eyes of the rich people changed, and they stared directly at the purple-haired middle-aged man, wishing they could see a hole.

To be able to live as a high-ranking person in Tyrosh, where wealth is respected, no one is a fool, whether they are smugglers or slave owners.

The voice was slightly strange, and it immediately aroused my imagination.

The purple-haired middle-aged man choked for a moment, and no longer covered it up, and said openly: "The Black Swan of Lys and I are business partners. We oppose Milov's rule, and the Targaryen executioner lives in peace with us."

“It's ridiculous, you're a brothel owner, and you're nothing more than a business partner with a prostitute.”

“Don't argue, let's discuss it carefully.”

The bearded man with sharp eyes asked, "We have all heard of Black Swan. Can she negotiate terms on behalf of Rhaegar Targaryen?"

“She is now the High Steward of Lys.”

"How can we trust him? The Targaryen executioner is not necessarily much better than the tyrant Milov?"

“That's right, 70% of the rich people in Myr were slaughtered, and half of the rich people in Lys died. Can that executioner be the same as us?”

Everyone was talking in a flurry of discussions, and their words were full of distrust.

The purple-haired middle-aged man's eyes flashed and he interrupted: "It's because there are fewer rich people in Myr and Lys that Targaryen wants to win over us."

The Free Cities are world-famous through maritime trade.

Two battles killed more than half of the rich people in the Three Women Kingdom, which represented the paralysis of trade.

Some pure merchants must be left behind to temporarily maintain the operation of trade.

“Is the news credible?”

Some people still don't believe it.

The purple-haired middle-aged man heard the expectation and grinned: "Targaryen has occupied two city-states. Without the support of the rich, it is difficult to eat. We can provide each other with food and money."

Mile was attacked. There were grain stores in the city-state and it was able to provide relief to slaves.

The rich people in Lys fled after hearing the news, and their money and food were transported to Braavos and Qohor. The remaining supplies in the city-state were pitiful and there was not enough for them.

What he said was reasonable and well-founded, which greatly moved the hearts of the rich.

More than a dozen people looked at each other, and they all saw the glint in each other's eyes.

Someone raised his hand first and suggested: "I bribed a guard outside the attic. He can give us information."

Someone answered the call immediately.

“I bribed a group of mercenaries at the port to send information and defense plans to Lys.”

“Mirov's new prostitute is from me, so I can secretly add drugs to his wine.”

In a few words, the arrangements are clear.

Seeing this, the purple-haired middle-aged man laughed out loud: "Since everyone agrees, I will write a letter."

Woooooo—

As soon as he got up from the chair, a low horn sounded from afar.

“What's the noise?”

Some people were surprised.

The bearded man's face froze, and he immediately stood up to run, exclaiming: "It's the horn of the port, the Iron Throne's fleet is coming!"

"wait wait wait."

The purple-haired middle-aged man didn't react for a moment, and was stunned on the spot at a loss.

Turning his head, his eyes looked through the glass window at the dim night sky.

Everything is calm and peaceful, as usual.

Suddenly, a flash of scarlet flashed, followed by a sharp neighing.

“Hiss!”

A snake-like scarlet dragon shadow rushed straight into the Maharaja's mansion, its broad wings enveloped the attic, and fierce dragon flames descended instantly.

Boom—

The purple-haired middle-aged man's eyes were about to burst, and he was burned to char by the scarlet dragon flames while screaming.

Colakxiu turned around and flew away, flying to other lofts in the night, spraying dragon flames continuously.

“Well done, Colaksio!”

Daemon sat firmly on the dragon's back, searching the king's bedroom with cold eyes.

(End of this chapter)

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