*
In the heavy infantry formation of the gathered Northern army, Lord Amber stared blankly at the approaching black dragon. His massive body on horseback made the North's unique long-haired horse seem diminutive. But all of that became irrelevant the moment the black dragon appeared.
"What a huge dragon!"
This was the only thought remaining in the mind of Lord Amber, who was uncultured and even relied on maesters for reading and writing.
The next moment, this Northern man, rumored to possess giant blood, suddenly felt his own blood begin to boil. He stared at the Amber family infantry he led; these Northern men also became excited. It wasn't their first time seeing dragons; Vermithor and Vermax had both flown over the North. Some of the older ones had even personally witnessed Vermithor, like a mountain obscuring the sky, soaring above the North.
And during that long winter, before she disappeared, Queen Mother Baela had also ridden Moon Dance to the icy snows of the North, bringing fire to the Wall and Last Hearth.
They were not unfamiliar with dragons.
But when the dragons truly arrived on the battlefield, every Northern soldier instantly felt their blood surge. They had already fought more than one battle against the wildlings. To round up the more than fifty thousand wildlings led by Selgon, the Thenn' "Magna" (meaning: lord), and Silas "the Cruel," the leader of the raiders, Commander Jason and Lord Cregan had pressed forward and planned every step. The cavalry led by Domilick Bolton and Lord Amber, along with the Night's Watch cavalry, continuously harassed the wildling camps in the Ghost Shadow Forest. The most glorious victory was when the Northern cavalry once trampled through the entire wildling camp, and Lord Amber's greatsword cut off a giant's head. Silas, the leader of the raiders, only escaped by disguising himself as a Night's Watch Ranger.
In that attack, thousands of wildlings died merely from being trampled by their own kind.
The painful defeat forced Selgon and Yaga to act according to the plans of Lord Cregan and Commander Jason. Driven by the Northern cavalry and Rangers, they were forced to leave the Ghost Shadow Forest, which was familiar to them. Beneath the icy wall of the Wall, Selgon led giants riding mammoths and long-haired horse riders from Beyond the Wall in a counter-charge, briefly repelling the allied cavalry, but their camp and supplies were burned by Domilick Bolton.
Ultimately, Selgon was forced to decide to divide his forces into three groups to cross the Wall, which marked the beginning of his downfall.
Three thousand elite wildlings who entered the North through the underground passage of Sable Hall in the east were met with a crushing blow from Lord Manderly and Lord Karstark. Beneath this castle, considered a disgrace to the Night's Watch, where "Proud" Lord Bracken lost his life, knights bearing merman banners shattered the wildling lines. When Lord Karstark led cavalry clad in furs and chainmail to appear behind the wildlings, defeat was already certain.
Not a single one of the three thousand wildlings survived to rejoin their two leaders. Lord Karstark ordered their heads to be piled at Sable Hall, as a warning to all wildlings.
Five thousand wildlings who crossed the Wall through the underground passage of Greyguard were met by the Night's Watch and the army of Lord Glover from Deepwood Motte, who had been waiting there. The mountain clans also dispatched troops to support Lord Cregan's operation. This elite force of twelve hundred engaged in fierce combat with the wildling elites. Ultimately, the wildlings paid a heavy price to defeat the Northern army.
Silas "the Cruel," the leader of the raiders, cruelly flayed Lord Glover and his eldest son, sharing their flesh with the wildlings.
Consequently, the soldiers of the Glover family who joined the main force were filled with rage, vowing to make the wildlings pay the price they deserved.
"Your Grace, order the charge!" Lord Amber impatiently rushed to the center army where Lord Cregan was located. The moment the big man burst into the formation, his eyes fell upon Legan, but he only gave a puzzled glance before shifting his gaze to Rhaegor.
"Prince Rhaegor, your hair?" Lord Amber looked him up and down, confirming his intuition was not wrong, then asked with some confusion.
He was very perceptive.
Rhaegor thought for a moment and understood how Lord Amber had recognized him. Although Legan now looked more like a Valyrian than he did, there was a fundamental difference between him and Legan in terms of temperament and many other indescribable things.
"Don't mind these," Rhaegor said with a smile, grabbing a handful of his hair. "Star Song will be landing soon."
"Arthur Amber." Cregan's stern voice came from behind Rhaegor. The bearded lord now looked full of majesty. He merely glanced at Lord Amber, instantly making the big man as docile as a child: "You're not on your left flank, what are you doing running over here?"
"My lord, our warriors can't hold back any longer." Lord Arthur Amber pounded his breastplate with his iron-gloved hand. "Prince Rhaegor's dragon has arrived, and the lads don't want to be trailing behind the dragon watching roasted wildlings."
"Lord Amber, the more wildlings roasted, the fewer losses your warriors will suffer," Rhaegor said loudly, walking up to Lord Amber, who sat on his horse like a small mountain.
"Your Highness, you're absolutely right," Lord Amber laughed loudly. "Your Grace, you can punish me after the battle; Domelique is watching the left flank, so nothing will go wrong there."
With that, Lord Amber slapped his horse's rump and galloped away in the blink of an eye.
The dragon drew closer, spotting Rhaegor in the crowd at once. It let out a joyous, melodious roar, like a song, and slowly descended onto the high ground where Cregan was stationed.
The Northern soldiers were a little fearful, a little excited, but mostly curious and delighted as they watched Star Song.
Star Song was the fastest-growing dragon in the Dragon Nest City's Dragonpit. Only Syrax could rival its growth rate. Its size had already surpassed Shadow Nightmare and was rapidly catching up to Silverwing. Its crown-like, disc-shaped horn-crown also grew larger with age. Now, in terms of the proportion of its horn-crown's size, it was no less impressive than Hovendes, known for its massive horn-crown in the Dragonpit, and second only to Syrax, who possessed a pair of dragon horns like moose antlers or two gigantic weirwood trees.
The silver-gold star-like markings on its body were also growing, shimmering with a metallic luster under the sunlight. At night, these markings would even emit a beautiful silver-gold glow.
"This dragon is so big," a young Northern soldier said blankly, looking at Star Song, unable to help but speak to his companion.
"That's because you haven't seen much," an older veteran, though not yet a "greybeard," said unceremoniously. "I've seen Prince Dragonzel's dragon; that was truly massive. But this dragon is indeed big." The veteran changed his tone. "If I'm not mistaken, it's bigger than King Jacaerys's Vermax."
"Does this mean we're guaranteed to win?" a clearly younger warrior said excitedly.
"Silence, all of you!" their officer, a Stark family guardsman, gruffly interrupted the soldiers' whispers. "As soon as the dragon takes flight, we'll immediately show those bastards who deserve to be eaten by wolves what's what."
The guardsman spat, but everyone could hear the excitement in his voice.
The entire Stark family formation instantly seemed to ignite.
At this moment, behind the wildling army, the Night's Watch cavalry from the Wall also arrived.
Commander Jason Lannister led all the Wall's cavalry to the battlefield, and he saw Star Song landing on the high ground.
The former Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock, suddenly recalled Vermithor above the Red Fork River.
When Vhagar was struck down from the sky by Vermithor, Jason, already severely wounded, knew that victory no longer belonged to them.
But today, victory belonged to them.
Warriors bless.
Commander Jason silently drew a seven-pointed star in his heart. The morale of the Night's Watch cavalry was also exceptionally high. A considerable number of them had personally experienced the battle on the Red Fork River, and no one knew the power of a dragon better than them.
Unlike the high-spirited allied army,
The wildling army actually wavered when they saw the dragon.
Many were afraid.
They were trembling.
Although they had not been bathed in dragonflame, nor had they witnessed the majestic sight of a dragon soaring in the sky, they had heard ancient legends and songs, knowing the tales of evil dragons that circulated on the continent before their ancestors migrated to this extreme northern land.
"Free Folk, what are you afraid of?" "Cruel" Syrax suddenly shouted. He rode a shaggy horse past the wildling army. This wildling leader held a captured iron sword and loudly encouraged his companions: "Dragons are just legends, but there are also dragon-slaying heroes in legends! Don't you want to be those heroes who bathe in dragon blood and hold a dragon's head to greet the bards' poems? Don't you want to have bragging rights when you're rolling around with your wives? Don't you want to proudly tell your children that their father and mother cut down a dragon?"
He pointed at Star Song in the distance and roared, "Now, the dragon is there, brothers and sisters, look around you." He raised his longsword and pointed at the big guys and elites among the wildlings.
More than thirty giants from the North, riding mammoths, roared and raised their spears and battleaxes made of bronze, bone, and stone. There were Thenn riding shaggy horses and clad in bronze armor, hard-footed folk with feet harder than ice, tribal wildlings riding moose, and Night's Watch deserters in tattered black clothes.
And countless wildlings, holding all sorts of weapons, howling.
The giants let out ancient war cries, the Thenn blew their bone horns, and the wildlings raised their weapons.
"We are no worse than these southern whelps. They grew up by the hearth, we grew up in the wind and snow. We are steel and bronze, they are twigs and grass." Syrax glanced at the silent Magna and shouted again: "Charge, brothers! Let the southern whelps see our true savagery!"
Whether it was Syrax's speech that worked, or the legend of dragon-slaying that inspired them, in short, these wildlings also became excited.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh~
Dull horn sounds rang out in unison, and the wildlings slowly began to move.
"Prince Rhaegor." Lord Cregan saw the wildlings move and turned to Rhaegor, saying, "It's time."
Rhaegor smiled: "My lord, you can consider how to punish these lawless wildlings."
He grabbed the rope ladder hanging from Star Song's dragon saddle and climbed up in a few steps.
"Because victory belongs to me and my Star Song."
Star Song, feeling her long-lost companion, let out a long, melodious cry of joy.
"Star Song, be good." Rhaegor said in High Valyrian: "Take off, let's teach these wildlings a lesson."
Star Song roared, flapping her wings, slowly ascending into the sky illuminated by the pale sun. Her huge wings obscured the sun, causing the Northern soldiers below to suddenly find their vision dim.
The dragon flew higher and higher, higher and higher.
Rhaegor's hair slowly faded from black, returning to its brilliant pure silver, and the emerald green in his eyes, like a summer lake, was gradually swallowed by deep purple.
Rhaegor Varese is back!
Star Song roared, folding her wings, and swooped down towards the wildling army.
The giants yelled, throwing stones, and scattered arrows and javelins also flew towards the sky, but these inferior ranged weapons could not be thrown far. Only the huge stones thrown by the giants could approach Star Song in the sky.
But those slow-moving stones, in front of Star Song, were simply an insult to her.
The dragon was enraged. These big, hairy guys were simply not treating her as a dragon.
What awaited them was only the dragon's wrath.
"Star Song, kill the giants first, then burn the infantry with dragonflame, maintaining distance."
Rhaegor calmly gave the command.
The dragon flapped her wings, gaining a bit more height, then spread her wings and began to glide over the wildling army. Silver-gold dragonflame poured down, like lighting candles.
One giant after another was ignited. The hair on these big, hairy guys became the very thing that took their lives. The mammoths beneath them fled in terror, and countless wildlings were trampled underfoot by the mammoths, turning into puddles of flesh and mud.
But the flames did not extinguish; they shifted from the screaming giants to the mammoths, and then, as the mammoths struggled, scattered into the wildling army.
Screams were everywhere. The giants' screams were like dull bells, the mammoths' screams like broken gongs, and the human screams...
But none of them were as melodious as Star Song's roar.
Unfortunately, every melodious dragon roar brought more screams.
These sounds converged, forming a beautiful symphony.
Dragonflame poured down again. This time, the dragon hovered back and forth over the army. Wherever the dragonflame passed, a long path would instantly be cleared. Inside the path were people turned to ash, and outside the path were people about to turn to ash.
Magna, the Thenn, was ignited. He was very unlucky; a giant, upon being burned to death, fell right beside him, and so he was also ignited.
Amidst cries of "This is impossible," the silver-gold dragonflame engulfed Magna. He died in the raging flames without even seeing what the boy on the dragon's back looked like.
In the last moments of this wildling leader's life, he saw the cavalry of the North and the cavalry of the Night's Watch thundering towards him.
Lord Amber roared, brandishing his greatsword, Lord Karstark raised his battleaxe, and Lord Dustin's spear still had a wildling, covered in flames, hanging from it.
Every Northerner was uncontrollably excited.
The Night's Watch was the same. For thousands of years, the Night's Watch fought under a dragon for the first time. They sought prey in the sea of fire, precisely plucking out the "eyes" of these old opponents.
Everywhere was fire, everywhere was blood. Warhorses trampled over the wildlings' old and weak, while sharp blades sliced across the necks of the wildling warriors.
The wildling army instantly scattered.
Countless spears then advanced.
A massacre began.
Star Song contentedly ignited a path, turning dozens of wildlings into ash. She slowly descended to the edge of the battlefield, letting out a melodious, joyful song towards the wildling army, which had already scattered under the dragonflame's bombardment.
Rhaegor, on the dragon's back, saw the half-burnt wildling leader, "Cruel" Syrax.
He had been scorched by the dragonflame during the charge and was now on his last breath.
"You southern whelp, you've destroyed the Free Folk's dream! You have no idea what's Beyond the Wall…"
Rhaegor responded with a smile:
"I will know what's Beyond the Wall, but you should also know that today is your doomsday."
"Haha… it doesn't matter." Syrax gave a tragic smile: "I only regret that we couldn't have a Mirror Shield Sarvan. To let a suckling babe… Haha, doomsday? The Free Folk are endless. Sooner or later, someone will cross the Wall again and skin and behead you and your dragon, boy."
Rhaegor nonchalantly stroked Star Song's neck. The pent-up anger he had finally found an outlet.
"Mirror Shield Sarvan, huh?" Rhaegor said mercilessly: "Then come on, let's see if you have more people, or if your people are more resistant to burning." He lightly pressed a scale on Star Song's neck. "The flames will tell you, wildling."
The dragon roared, and a burst of flames instantly engulfed the wildling leader before him.
Rhaegor watched Syrax turn to ash. He pulled up the dragon saddle's handguard.
Star Song roared and flew up.
Beneath the dragon, wildlings fled across the mountains and plains.
And flames spread across the mountains and plains.
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