On an open field, a warhorse's charge is almost unstoppable.
At this moment, Viserys Targaryen's legs felt as heavy as lead, his ears filled with the gasps, shouts, and roars of the surrounding soldiers, his mind a blank.
He knew that if The Onion Knight got close to him, he would have no hope of survival.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.
He had originally thought that leading troops to raid Storm's End, with superior numbers, would be as easy as crushing dry weeds.
Now, it seemed he had underestimated the heroes of the world.
Even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit.
Whether it was the rebels or the royal family members, all were striving with all their might for that sliver of hope.
Seeing the hideous wound on The Onion Knight's hand as he charged, Viserys Targaryen suddenly sobered up.
This was not a game; this was a war of life and death!
Noble birth and Targaryen prince status were nothing compared to the deterrent power of the longsword in hand!
He took a deep breath, then drew the valyrian dagger from his waist and threw it with all his might.
"Puff!"
Just as the warhorse was about to reach him, the valyrian dagger struck the horse's eye; blood splattered, and the warhorse neighed.
Under The Onion Knight's unwilling gaze, the warhorse suddenly reared up, then rolled to the side.
"Thud!"
Viserys Targaryen awkwardly rolled to the side, completely dodging The Onion Knight's final strike.
The startled warhorse whistled past his ear, unexpectedly falling into the water, its heavy hooves striking the surface and raising splashes.
Viserys Targaryen sullenly propped himself up with his longsword.
His eardrums were buzzing, as if even the surrounding sounds had become dull.
Whoosh—
Dust rose everywhere, and Viserys Targaryen leaned against the corner of the wall, breathing heavily.
The bloody and tense scene of the battlefield exceeded the limits of his descriptive abilities.
Now, his blood was churning, his face flushed, and his mind had long lost its rationality.
Everywhere there were flashing blades and blood, everywhere shouts of battle; both sides had gone berserk, and everyone was fending for themselves.
Ser Willem Darry, still shaken, limped forward, leaning on his sword sheath, to protect Viserys.
Countless streams of warm blood flowed down his armor to the ground, even rising in white wisps in the cool morning light.
"Your Highness, be careful!"
Ser Willem Darry's face was pale as he cautiously watched his surroundings.
He was not originally from the Kingsguard; besides being good at combat, he had almost no experience in protecting anyone.
However, when Viserys was in danger, he still used his own body to block the warhorse ridden by The Onion Knight for Viserys, securing a chance of survival for Viserys.
Looking at his blood-stained but still resolute face, a warmth rose in Viserys's heart.
Just then, a clear "clatter" echoed—the loud sound of the portcullis dropping.
Viserys Targaryen looked up, a glimmer of joy appearing in his dull eyes.
The gates of Storm's End—had opened!
"Kill—"
Accompanied by a shout, Tyrell cavalry, bearing rose banners, poured in from outside the city like a flood.
Compared to the excitement in the eyes of Viserys Targaryen and the Gold Cloaks soldiers, the Storm's End warriors' faces were ashen.
Without the protection of Storm's End's walls, relying on only a few hundred soldiers, they simply couldn't confront The Reach's army head-on!
Warhorses galloped in, their iron hooves stirring up blood and mud.
The entire Stormlands seemed to tremble, and even small stones on the ground visibly bounced.
Immediately after, as far as Viserys could see, there was a one-sided slaughter within Storm's End!
A Stormlands noble turned to run, but the next moment, an arrow instantly pierced him, and he fell before Viserys.
Viserys Targaryen knew that Storm's End was completely finished!
...The setting sun was like blood.
The entire Storm's End was filled with a nauseating smell of blood.
The Reach's army had completely cleared out the resistance forces in the city, and squad after squad of soldiers patrolled the streets and alleys in an orderly manner.
Stannis Baratheon, along with all the warriors of Storm's End, resisted until the last moment, but ultimately, under the absolute crushing superiority of strength, he had no choice but to abandon the city and flee.
"And that cunning smuggler escaped with him!"
Ser Willem Darry angrily slammed the table: "They stole a small boat and escaped by water, bypassing House Redwyne's navy!"
As the prince's protector, the news that this smuggler, who had almost caused the prince's death, was still alive was a disgrace to Ser Willem Darry.
"Ser Willem Darry, you are injured!"
Mace Tyrell, the inflatable fish, reminded him softly from the side.
As the Duke who led the campaign against the Stormlands, he had besieged Storm's End for a full six months without success, causing The Reach's army to miss the battle at the Trident.
Fortunately, it was precisely because of this that he was lucky enough to preserve the main fighting force of most of his army.
Now that Prince Viserys Targaryen had arrived, he had achieved such an inspiring great victory.
Although this was not enough to make up for Prince Rhaegar's defeat at the Trident, for the Targaryen royal family, it was still a great and inspiring victory.
"Lord Tyrell,"
Viserys Targaryen interrupted their small talk.
Looking at The Reach's army, neat and orderly, with almost no damage, Viserys Targaryen felt relieved.
"Storm's End has been taken, and the rebels are now advancing towards King's Landing; The Reach's army can return to defend King's Landing!"
"Yes, Your Royal Highness!"
Governor Mace Tyrell nodded awkwardly.
Although Prince Viserys Targaryen before him was only eight years old, his achievement of raiding Storm's End was enough to rank among the war histories of Westeros.
A half-year-long siege of Storm's End had made two famous generals on the continent of Westeros: "The True Dragon Prince" Viserys and "The Iron-Blooded Hardman" Stannis Baratheon.
And this seemingly older Duke Mace Tyrell, as the sole clown, became a permanent backdrop, nailed to the pillar of shame!
"Count Randal Tarly, you and House Redwyne's navy will travel with me by water to King's Landing!"
Viserys Targaryen issued orders in an orderly fashion.
This was a decision he and Admiral Ser Joffrey had come up with after in-depth discussion.
Although he was only eight years old, this battle, comparable to "White Robe Crossing the River," had fully demonstrated his command ability.
The strategy of cleverly taking Storm's End was admired even by the seasoned general Count Randal Tarly.
"Yes, Your Royal Highness!"
Randal Tarly knelt on one knee.
Looking at his expressionless face beneath his slightly balding forehead, the heavy stone in Viserys Targaryen's heart finally settled.
As the only excellent commander who had defeated Robert Baratheon on the front lines, with the help of Count Randal Tarly, Viserys now had an additional chip in his hand.
Rumble!
Under everyone's gaze, Storm's End's treasury was finally pried open by blacksmiths from The Reach.
The dazzling array of jewels almost blinded Viserys Targaryen.
These were centuries of collections by House Baratheon, the lords of Storm's End.
And right in the center of the pile of jewels, a blood-red stone egg was conspicuously placed in the most prominent position in the treasury!
"Is this the stone egg that the Red Priestess Melisandre later tried to persuade Stannis to sacrifice his family to hatch dragons for battle?"
Viserys Targaryen held the dragon eggs with trembling hands, his eyes fixed on it.
Just as Viserys was lost in thought, a Gold Cloaks stumbled into the hall, falling to the ground, the letter in his hand landing before Viserys.
"Your Royal Highness, something terrible has happened..."
"King's Landing... Northern soldiers have reached King's Landing!"