Inside the barbican.
Amos hid inside a stone-walled secret chamber, covering his nose and mouth with one hand as he shouted frantically, "Where is the Red Witch?"
"I'm not sure. It seems like she's conducting a ritual in the Sacred Wood."
The Oath Knight responded with fear in his voice, "My lord, there's still a lot of wildfire in the barbican. We need to break out quickly."
The earlier explosion had only ignited a few carts of wildfire outside.
If they waited for the flames to spread, the heat would ignite the wildfire stored inside the city.
When that happened, everyone would be burned alive.
Amos's expression wavered for a moment before he seemed to grab onto a lifeline. "Yes! The ritual! The Lord of Light will protect me!"
As he shouted, he pulled out a token from his chest.
"Follow me! There's an underground passage beneath the barbican—we can escape through there!"
As the ancestral stronghold of House Brecken, countless tunnels had been dug beneath Stone Hedge over generations.
All in preparation for unforeseen crises.
Leading the army down the stairs, the temperature grew hotter and hotter. The air reeked of burning wildfire.
"My lord, there's more wildfire stored in the cellar!"
A soldier in charge of guarding the wildfire hurriedly reported.
Amos shoved him aside and dashed toward a nearby passage, shouting, "We don't have time for that—I need to find the Red Witch!"
He was convinced that once the Red Witch's ritual concluded, the Lord of Light would grant him the power to defeat the wicked Targaryens and their dragons.
None of the remaining soldiers dared to touch the wildfire; instead, they followed their lord into the passage to escape.
The thousand-strong group moved noisily toward the secret tunnel.
In the cellar beneath them…
As the soldiers' heavy footsteps echoed above, the stone walls of the cellar began to tremble faintly.
*Crack!*
A small clump of earth dislodged, falling onto the sand-covered floor.
On either side of the walls stood two wooden racks.
Barrels of wildfire, cushioned by sand, were neatly stacked on the shelves.
*Thud, thud…*
The soldiers' frantic movements made the cellar walls shake slightly.
Normally, this kind of vibration wouldn't be an issue.
The barrels holding the wildfire were stable, and the fine sand beneath them absorbed shock effectively.
However, half of the wildfire barrels were resting on coarse sand.
The coarse sand was mixed with pebbles and clumps of dirt, creating an uneven surface.
As the racks shook, the barrels naturally bumped against the stones and dirt.
Then…
*Boom!*
One barrel of wildfire suddenly exploded, triggering the detonation of the remaining barrels in rapid succession, unleashing green flames everywhere.
Just beyond the wall, soldiers were still packed tightly together, retreating through the narrow passage.
*Bang!*
The floor of the tunnel burst open, and wildfire spread madly, engulfing the entire passage.
"Ah! Wildfire!"
"Don't touch me—I'm burning!"
"My face!"
The already cramped tunnel was instantly consumed by wildfire, swallowing hundreds of soldiers.
Cries of agony and despair echoed through the night sky.
Outside the tunnel…
Amos led over three hundred men out of the barbican, reaching a secluded corner of the outer city wall.
They were still waiting for more soldiers to emerge from the tunnel when a wave of scorching heat surged forth.
*Whoosh!*
A soldier had just climbed halfway out when the wildfire surged and engulfed him completely.
"Ah! Help me! Please help me!"
The soldier, engulfed in flames, thrashed wildly before collapsing back into the tunnel with a scream.
The wildfire continued to spew out, reaching over thirty feet into the air.
The blistering heat waves slammed into Amos and his men, knocking them to the ground.
"Run! Run for your lives!"
Realizing the dire situation, Amos panicked and crawled away from the tunnel entrance.
After a while…
The wild flames began to subside, and the soldiers gradually got to their feet.
When Amos turned back, the barbican was already lost, engulfed in wildfire from inside out.
The green flames rose dozens of feet high, turning the entire barbican into a massive torch.
It stood out vividly in the pitch-black night.
"It's over. There's no way back."
Amos stood frozen, murmuring in despair.
The fall of the barbican had cut off their route back to the castle.
They were now trapped in a dead zone between the inner and outer walls.
"My lord, our only option now is to break through to the outside."
The Oath Knight helped Amos to his feet and made a suggestion.
Targaryen's dragon was still circling in the night sky, appearing and disappearing unpredictably.
If they didn't find a way out soon, they'd be reduced to ashes before dawn.
Clutching the token tightly, Amos gritted his teeth and said, "There's an ambush by House Blackwood in the outer city."
"We have no choice but to take a gamble. We might just make it."
The Oath Knight had no better options.
Breaking out offered a slim chance of survival—better than waiting for death.
Amos shut his eyes in fear, his whole body trembling. "Alright, let's break through!"
"The Lord has given the order—open the gates and charge out!"
The Oath Knight shouted loudly, leading the remaining forces to open the city gates and lower the drawbridge.
…
**Sacred Grove.**
The ritual bonfire gradually burned out, leaving behind only ashes and bone fragments.
The Red Witch knelt before the ashes, clasped her hands together, and muttered prayers, "May the Lord of Light bless me…"
As she chanted a jumble of incantations, her once youthful and alluring face began to wither.
In just a few breaths, she transformed from a mature beauty in her twenties into an old woman with a face full of wrinkles.
The Red Witch, unfazed by her sudden aging, scooped up a handful of ashes and smeared them onto her aged face.
As she spread the ashes over her face and neck, she continued her devout prayers.
The application was even—no spot was left untouched.
Then, something miraculous happened.
The wrinkles on her face vanished, her skin grew smooth again, and she regained her youthful beauty.
In fact, she looked even younger than before—now appearing like a radiant young maiden.
"Haha! It worked!"
Sensing the change, the Red Witch let out a sharp, triumphant laugh. "That foreign priest didn't lie to me after all!"
Her laughter gradually faded, and her expression grew serious. "No, I need to leave this place immediately."
Now that she had achieved her goal, survival was the top priority.
As for her lover, Amos Brecken—he was nothing more than a foolish tool.
She had used him up, and now, she would discard him without hesitation.
Rising to her feet, she lifted the hem of her red robe and ran toward the castle.
…
After a long while, under the cover of darkness, the Red Witch arrived near the stables at the back of the castle.
**Rustle…**
A faint noise reached her ears.
She quickly hid behind the edge of a well, cautiously peering out.
From the darkened stable, a tall and rotund figure emerged.
The figure crawled out from a pile of hay, clumsily brushing the straw off his body, his head hanging low in dejection.
With just one glance, the Red Witch recognized him.
It was that discredited maester—the big oaf with a trace of giant's blood in his veins.
Her eyes flickered with cunning. She made up her mind and shouted, "Who's there?!"
**Screeeech—**
To her shock, the response wasn't a human voice, but a deep and guttural dragon's roar.
**Whoosh!**
A massive black dragon flapped its wings, sending a fierce gust of wind that scattered the hay across the stable as it circled above the castle.
On the dragon's back, Rhaegar furrowed his brows slightly—he had vaguely heard something.
Looking down at the castle, he saw no lights. Everything was deathly silent.
"Glutton, land."
Rhaegar did not act rashly by setting the castle ablaze with dragonfire.
Before taking action, he needed to clarify his objectives.
Capture Stone Hedge.
Wipe out House Brecken.
Execute Amos Brecken.
Of these three tasks, seizing the castle came first.
Stone Hedge was a well-established fortress and noble estate.
Conquering it was far more valuable than simply burning it down.
**Boom!**
Glutton landed in the stable, crushing several fragile hay shelters under its massive feet.
The moment he touched the ground, Rhaegar immediately noticed two figures hiding in the stable.
"Come out! Don't make my dragon breathe fire on you!"
Rhaegar dismounted, towering over them as he commanded in a deep voice.
"Y-yes, esteemed prince!"
The towering, overweight Trull scrambled out, dropping to his knees in the muddy ground with a loud **thud**.
He had terrible luck.
The old maester's escape attempt had drawn Amos's attention.
In response, Amos had ordered the secret escape tunnels around the castle to be sealed off, cutting off Trull's route of escape.
Now exposed, the Red Witch had no choice but to step out as well, trembling.
Her beautiful eyes locked onto the enormous Glutton, and her legs nearly gave out beneath her.
She had even worse luck.
If she had known a dragon would come, she never would have shouted earlier.
Rhaegar frowned deeply, surprised by the pair before him.
One was a massive man in a gray robe—but without a maester's chain.
The other was a seductive woman in a red robe, dressed like a witch.
Especially the Red Witch.
She reminded him of the red-robed woman he had casually slain while massacring the mountain clans in the Vale.
The woman was accompanied by a shadow lynx, unafraid of flames—a force to be reckoned with.
Thinking of this, Rhaegar took out a ruby-encrusted necklace and interrogated the Red Priestess from above, "Do you recognize this?"
A concise, probing question designed to catch her off guard.
The Red Priestess timidly raised her head, her gaze first sweeping over Rhaegar's handsome face before landing on the necklace.
When she saw the ruby, her eyes widened in shock, and she blurted out, "The Heart of Flame!"
"You do recognize it," Rhaegar's lips curled into a smile.
He'd struck gold with just one bluff.
The Red Priestess's breath quickened, her eyes gleaming with desire. "That gem is one of the sacred relics of the Temple of R'hllor. It was lost long ago during the war when Volantis invaded Lys."
R'hllor, also known as the Lord of Light, was a widely worshiped deity.
The Free Cities were melting pots of various religions, and belief in R'hllor was quite widespread. One of the largest temples dedicated to him was located in Lys.
However, the locals of Lys did not follow R'hllor. They revered a secretive goddess of desire whose name was never spoken aloud.
Rhaegar dangled the necklace and shook it slightly, realizing its potential value. "What does it do? Fire immunity?"
"No, no, no! That would be such a waste!"
The Red Priestess's eyes remained fixated on the ruby. Her lips trembled as she said, "According to the High Priest, the Heart of Flame is a divine gift from R'hllor. The bearer can communicate with the god and have their wishes fulfilled."
Thud—
Rhaegar tossed the necklace directly at her feet, saying coolly, "Try it. Show me what it can do."
The dragon beside Rhaegar, bound to him through a deep mental connection, raised its back and aimed its fearsome snout at the Red Priestess.
Should anything go wrong, dragonfire would follow without hesitation.
The Red Priestess had not yet noticed this threat.
Her gaze was locked on the fallen ruby. She scrambled toward it without any care for dignity, cupping the gem tightly in her hands.
Under the night sky, the ruby's light was dim and unremarkable.
"Oh great R'hllor, your faithful servant..."
The Red Priestess held the ruby, eyes shut, nervously praying.
But nothing happened.
The gem lay cold in her palm, devoid of any divine manifestation.
"How can this be?"
She turned the gem over repeatedly, disbelief clouding her eyes.
Seeing her failure, Rhaegar lost patience. "Is it useful or not?"
The dragon lowered its head, its searing breath grazing her skin.
"It is! It absolutely is!"
Cold sweat beaded down her back as she stammered, "Perhaps... it's been too long since proper rituals were performed. The gem has lost its divine power. It needs a sacrifice."
She was back to thinking about sacrifices.
Rhaegar fixed his gaze on her, voice dangerously low, "What kind of sacrifice?"
The Faith of the Seven and the Old Gods did not require sacrifices.
R'hllor, an exotic foreign faith, was more uncertain to Rhaegar.
The Red Priestess's eyes flickered with cunning as she smiled suggestively. "The sacrifice is..."
Before she could finish, a sharp blade pierced through her back, emerging from her chest.
Blood gushed out.
Her body stiffened, and she struggled to turn her head.
In her final moments, the last thing she saw was the terrified yet furious face of the corpulent, disgraced maester.
Thud—
Her body collapsed to the ground, convulsed twice, and then fell still.
Rhaegar watched quietly, intrigued.
He had seen the large man's movements but chose not to interfere.
Once the ruby failed to react, the Red Priestess had lost all value.
Her death was inconsequential.
Having personally killed someone, the corpulent man, trembling with fear, dropped the dagger. His belly quivered with each labored breath.
After taking two deep breaths, he bent down, picked up the ruby, and raised it above his head, voice quivering with something close to tears.
"Honorable prince, this woman was nothing but a fraud. She caused countless deaths."
He had been forced to kill her.
The Red Priestess had already deceived a nobleman from the Riverlands, leading him to believe he could successfully rebel.
She couldn't be allowed to manipulate a prince and cause even greater catastrophe.
Though his reasoning was sound, he underestimated Rhaegar and overestimated Amos.
Rhaegar simply wanted to find out whether the ruby possessed any hidden fire-related magical powers.
Targaryens, who had mastered the art of dragon-taming, had no need for sacrificial rituals.
Rhaegar looked down at the fat man below, amused by the stark contrast between his physique and demeanor.
He asked, "Who are you? You're dressed like a scholar."
The man lowered his head respectfully and answered, "Your Highness, my name is Trull..."
Trull was born in the Riverlands as a commoner, without a surname.
He had once joined the Citadel to further his studies and had achieved some success.
However, he became fascinated by wildfire and secretly began researching it.
One failed experiment blew up his room.
As a result, he was expelled from the Citadel and cast out of Oldtown.
After wandering for some time, he ended up with House Bracken, becoming their tool for wildfire production.
After hearing his story, Rhaegar was a little surprised.
He examined Trull carefully but could not have guessed that beneath such a burly frame was someone capable of developing wildfire.
A real talent!
After a brief moment of contemplation, Rhaegar decided not to dwell on his background and got to the point: "Where are the members of House Bracken hiding?"
"I know—they're in the castle's cellar," Trull replied, full of grievances. Not only was he betraying them, but he also had to help strategize.
"There are many commoners inside the city, driven in by Lord Amos. I can gather some men to capture the Bracken family members."
Rhaegar glanced at the castle, reluctant to burn it down with dragonfire.
So, he agreed to Trull's plan.
"Go do it."
"Yes, Your Highness."
…
Outside Stone Hedge.
The drawbridge was lowered, and Amos fled in haste, surrounded by his soldiers.
He had no choice but to run—the outer walls were ablaze with dragonfire and wildfire. Even a single spark could be fatal.
Under the pitch-black night sky, over three hundred soldiers trudged through the muddy grasslands.
They couldn't see the road ahead, stumbling as they fled in disarray.
Woo-woo-woo—
A horn suddenly echoed across the open fields.
Two thousand soldiers from House Blackwood emerged from the darkness, radiating killing intent.
"Kill them all—leave no one alive!"
(End of Chapter)