"Gather! Gather! The Dragon Cultists are assembling, they are coming to kill us!"
The R'hllor Temple was filled with noise as mages and fully armed Fiery Hand army began to gather in the main hall. Even the wounded picked up their weapons, ready to fight for their faith.
"Melisandre, hurry!" Bennero, of course, couldn't forget his strongest mage. This battle was one where they had to stand together.
"Has the Dragon Cult launched a full assault? Is Wright Baratheon among them?"
Melisandre followed, adjusting her face with a quick pull to lift the sagging skin back into place. Her red robes covered her ankles, and though her upper body seemed still, she walked with great speed. Bennero jogged to keep up with her.
"According to the reports from the faithful, all the Dragon Cultists and their higher-ups have mobilized. One of them is wearing a full set of dragonbone armor and wielding a large two-handed sword glowing red. It's definitely Wright!"
"Let's go. The Light will guide us, the flames will always burn, and we will win this battle!" Melisandre wasn't really eager for the fight; she wanted to find Wright and get some answers.
"The Lord of Light will win!" Bennero was confident as well.
The majestic R'hllor Temple, with its beams, columns, steps, walls, vaulted ceilings, high towers, and skywalks between the towers, was seamlessly connected as if the entire building had been carved out of a single massive stone. Hundreds of colors—red, yellow, gold, and orange—mingled on the temple's walls like the clouds at sunset. The tall, slender spires twisted and spiraled, reaching toward the sky as frozen flames seemed to touch the heavens.
Thousands of Lord of Light's followers, all wearing matching red robes, and more than seven hundred Hand of the Holy Flame, dressed in silver-white armor and red cloaks, marched in perfect formation, protecting the priests and mages with golden flame embroidery on their robes within their ranks.
"The night is dark and full of terrors. The daylight is bright, full of vitality. One black, one white. One ice, one fire. Hate and love, bitter and sweet, woman and man, pain and joy, winter and summer, evil and justice!"
The fully armed group marched in unison, chanting their unified slogan as they advanced down the main street toward the Dragon Cult.
The sun was about to set, casting a red glow over the R'hllor temple's procession, like blood.
The Dragon Cult's temple was only two stories tall, though it occupied a large area. The building was square with only four corners adorned with dragon head carvings. Constructed from black stone, the beams and columns were massive, making the doors and rooms appear narrow, though the entire structure was exceptionally solid.
This was a compromise made to allow dragons to land on the roof. The massive Odahviing would have a hard time, but dragons under a hundred years old could easily land.
On the plaza in front of the temple, the High Priest of the Dragon Cult, Dofas, stood on a second-floor balcony delivering a motivational speech. The faithful gathered in small groups, chatting, their colorful clothes and armor, and a variety of weapons in hand. The dragon heads on their necklaces and cloaks were the only way to recognize them.
Dofas, who came from the Economic Party, was not good at military speeches. Seeing the disorganized crowd below, he could only smile awkwardly and turn to Wright for help, saying, "Lord Wright, would you like to say a few words?"
"I think it's fine! Besides the formal rituals, the Dragon Cult shouldn't focus too much on ceremonial things. The faithful should develop individually!" Wright said, putting on his helmet and jumping down into the crowd below.
The dragon priest Naisso Visama, wearing a purple mask, quickly jogged behind Wright.
Wright walked slowly toward the R'hllor Temple, and the Dragon Cultists automatically parted to clear a path. He didn't say a word of encouragement; instead, he simply raised his Bloodskal Blade over his shoulder.
The plaza was very quiet, with only the unique creaking sound of dragonbone armor moving.
As Wright walked past, one of the cultists drew their sword from their waist, mimicking Wright's movement and following behind him. After a few steps, another cultist took a long axe from behind and slung it over their shoulder, marching silently behind. With each step Wright took, the sounds of weapons unsheathing followed, and the growing crowd moved without slogans, without coordinated uniforms, and without synchronized steps. Instead, there was a rising atmosphere of bloodlust.
At the wide mouth of the Rhoyne River, which cuts through the heart of the city of Volantis, the Valyrian Empire constructed a long bridge during its peak, spanning the vast river. The R'hllor Temple and the Dragon Cult Temple were built on the eastern and western sides of the city, and the two armies, as if by arrangement, met at the center of the bridge.
The Valyrian Empire spared no expense in building the long bridge, constructing it entirely from stone. Massive bridge piers stood one after another in the riverbed, with every column rising from the piers engraved with a variety of exotic birds and beasts. The wide bridge surface could accommodate several carriages side by side, and even shops were built along its sides.
The Lord of Light's army arrived first at the center of the bridge, and the commanders of the Hand of the Holy Flame directed their troops into formation, awaiting the approaching enemy in the distance.
"Close the doors and windows!"
"Close the doors and windows!"
As the Dragon Cult's army advanced, the merchants along the bridge were alerted by the faithful. When they reached the center of the bridge, there were no more shops—only spears with the hands of thieves and the heads of criminals displayed as a warning, and black bloodstains on the ground where countless bodies had gathered in a mass.
Wright led the front of the army, with Dofas following closely, introducing the important figures from across the way.
When Melisandre and Bennero saw Wright, they stepped out from the formation and approached the front.
Seeing Wright approach at a steady pace, Melisandre didn't expect their reunion to happen under such circumstances. Without a smile, she called out, "Lord Wright, I have something I need to discuss today."
Wright, walking without a word, raised his long sword with one hand and pointed it forward.
"Kill him!"
"Kill!"
"Heretic of the Lord of Light, die!"
The armored Dragon Cultists cursed as they bypassed Wright, charging toward the front.
There was no further talk; the outcome was already clear. The R'hllor forces had no shields or pikes, only infantry with heavy armor and long swords, and the Dragon Cult was not lacking in that regard. Wright immediately ordered the attack. They arranged their formations, but would rely on their own strength.
The first wave of the charge clashed, with cries of battle, the sound of weapons colliding, and the explosion of fire magic.
A loud voice echoed from a tall, golden-haired warrior clad in silver armor:
"Fus~~Ro~~Dah~!" Wright turned at the sound and saw more than twenty red-robed individuals blown back several dozen meters by the soundwave.
The tall warrior stood out in the crowd, dressed in heavy armor with a large metal shield in his left hand and a warhammer in his right. He charged through the crowd, his platinum-blonde hair flowing from beneath his helmet, whipping around his body with each movement. When the number of enemies in front of him grew, he unleashed a dragon shout.
Ellios Chiheda, a pure-blooded Valyrian, born into the Tiger Party, was exactly thirty years old this year. He had abandoned his candidacy for Triarch to fully devote himself to learning Dragon Shout. A lightning tattoo extended from his chin, through his left eye, and up to his eyebrow, and fifteen small lightning battle marks were tattooed around his right eye, representing the fifteen battles in which he had distinguished himself.
He was originally a candidate for Dragon Priest but chose to specialize only in Dragon Shout and did not wish to learn other magics. Since Wright had just announced the selection standards, he didn't want to make an exception immediately, so during the last headquarters meeting, he had merely been an observer.