Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 304: Dragon Horn
The heart tree was already charred, but the face with weeping eyes could still be seen clearly, just covered with a layer of black ash. The tangled roots had been completely burned, and most of them had turned to ash, covering the uneven surface of the godswood with a thick layer of black debris.

The children of the forest sat around the heart tree, chanting a language that was difficult for humans to understand. Attis only knew from ancient books that the language spoken by the children of the forest and other natural races was the original language. From the perspective of age, this roughly refers to the original language. The children of the forest used this language to praise the earth, praise nature, and, for example, now, use the original language to praise the heart tree and the old gods.

However, the ravens in the cages of Simon the Butler stopped talking, stared at the Heart Tree with their scarlet eyes, and listened attentively.

Simon looked at his raven anxiously, and from time to time he looked at the prayers of the Children of the Forest with suspicion, and said awkwardly: "In ancient times, scholars left records saying that ravens can understand and even speak the original language. Could it be true? The ancients nowadays are so weird?"

Simon's fat body shook, and his face was even painted with rouge imported from Salt Pan Town. Attis felt that he looked more and more like an old friend who once looked down on King's Landing with his intricate spy network.

The dragon grinned and roared, and its extremely thin dragon wings flapped twice in the air, spewing out a breath of dragon flame. The flame was orange all over, with gold threads on the edges. Blue shadows were dim in it, like extremely fine lightning in the sunlight, raising a cloud of gray smoke from the ground and covering the raw mutton.

For a moment, the aroma of burning raw meat and the smell of charcoal filled the Shenmu Forest Garden.

The blue dragon opened its sharp mouth and tore into the mutton that was thrown to it, eating it with relish and neighing from time to time.

As if it could sense that Attis was examining it, the blue dragon bared its teeth at its food, its pupils spinning in its sockets, closing and opening, aiming at itself step by step.

"That's queer," said Simon uncomfortably, looking up at the sky. "I thought it would fly away."

Attis looked at the dragon's body. It was like a kitten, curled up and could be held in one hand. "It's highly likely," he smiled, "this dragon can't fly."

"This castle has magical powers," Melisandre came up behind him at some point, her tone solemn, "Many structures in the walls even have a lot of dragon crystal. It's hard to imagine whose advice King Harren took to build this magnificent castle."

"Are you a weirdo like me?" Simon shrugged, took a sip of the warm tea in his hand, and made a joke.

Melisandre did not refute, "I think you are right, Lord Simon."

Simon's embarrassed expression suddenly returned to his face. He rubbed his hands and pulled out a tuft of hair on his forehead. "I remembered that I still have work to do. I'll, ahem, Your Excellency the Duke, I'll leave first."

"What kind of blood magic can allow dragons and humans to establish a connection?" Attis asked after Simon walked away.

Melisandre could only answer with the legend known to everyone: "The Valyrians claim that they discovered dragons from the Fourteen Fire Peaks and mastered the method of dragon taming. They never mentioned how to tame dragons or how their bloodline was connected to these beasts." She looked at the blue dragon tearing out strands of mutton, watching it fall headfirst into the charred wool, blinking her eyes, and chose to continue: "The Asshai people say that dragons come from the Shadow Land, and a vanished nation taught the magic of dragon taming to the Valyrians."

"I don't know how many years ago, thousands of years ago? Tens of thousands of years ago? Anyway, in the legends of Asshai, there was a time when dragons were everywhere in the world. Wild dragons, tamed dragons, and living, hot dragon eggs were everywhere."

Attis shook his head. "Legends are just legends after all."

"After witnessing all this," Melisandre smiled, "Do you still believe that legends are just legends?"

Attis responded with silence.

After a long time, Attis finally spoke: "I don't know when the long night will come, but seeing that the weather is getting colder, I'm afraid it will be this winter."

"If that's the case," Artis said, "a baby dragon is not enough, it needs to grow up quickly." He was silent for a moment after saying this, and then changed the subject: "If the grown dragon can really grow to the size of the legendary Black Death, and if we still don't know how to tame a dragon." His mind flashed back to the tragedies caused by dragon wars during the Targaryen dynasty for centuries. "Then after all my efforts, what I hatched is not a savior, but a disaster."

"Sir!" Simon's voice came from a distance again, "Sir, there is a guest, it's the doctor, it's the doctor!"

Artis frowned, walked over quickly, and told Ange, "Doctor of the Citadel, go and get the Duke's formal dress."

"Doctor Marwyn, 'Magician' Marwyn!"

When he heard the name, a hint of surprise flashed across Atis' eyes, but without thinking too much, he quickly walked towards the Hundred Furnaces Hall.

The ground was littered with corpses and blood.

Two dragons in the sky were playing in the blood, picking up corpse after corpse, people with milky white skin, dark skin people from the Summer Islands, and even Yi people from thousands of miles away. They played a game of burning human bodies in the air and swallowed them up in a few bites. It was bloodthirsty and terrifying.

Victarion gazed at the dragons in the sky with satisfaction. These two dragons were still small now, but they would grow fast and sooner or later become the dragons ridden by Aegon the Conqueror. By then, he would be the new conqueror, riding on a dragon, conquering the Seven Kingdoms, granting land to his crew and sailors, expanding the territory for the Ironborn, driving the pitiful faith of the Seven Gods and the Old Gods out of the continent, and letting everyone worship the true god Aegon, the Drowned God of the salt sea and reefs!
He picked up the iron axe and staggered into the cabin and into the dark and damp corridor. With every step he took, water spiders crawled quickly on the floor, just like the slave soldiers who had just escaped.

Victarion also wanted to select slaves. He ordered his crew to pull open the bolts of the prison and examine the civilians or slaves who were looted from all over the place who were huddled in the prison.

Lyseni, Yunkai, Summer Islanders, and even a half-Valyrian-Qartheen.
"You, you, you," Victarion said, choosing three men to be the unlucky ones first, in case one of them collapsed due to the power, thus forcing the next one to continue. "Come out to the deck."

The Iron Man immediately went up and pulled out the three people he had picked.

The floor was very slippery, and the three men had lost the will to resist. They were dragged limply onto the deck by the Iron Man.

The horn sat there, glowing black and twisted. It was six feet long, the size of a tall ironborn, and streaks of red and gold and the markings of Valyrian black steel covered its surface. Victarion guessed that these were strange runes.

Euron told himself that the ancient dragon kings used this to bind dragons, especially wild dragons that could not be controlled alone. A tamed dragon can be controlled by relying on the master's identity and the blood in his body, but an unruly wild dragon can only be controlled with the Dragon Horn.

The dragon horn before you is called "Dragonbinder" and is just one of the many dragon horns owned by the Valyrian nobles.

"Blow it, and you will be free," Victarion told the slave, but he looked up at the dragon.

There was a gleam of disbelief in the slave's eyes. He looked blankly at the iron races around him who were not saying a word. As he watched them move away from the horn, he walked forward with some confusion, held the horn with both hands, opened his mouth, and blew it.

Victarion's pupils dilated immediately. Thousands of dead souls were biting at his ears, ready to puncture his eardrums and tear off his earlobes. Blood seemed to flow all over his face, and his whole body trembled, as if a flame was roasting his internal organs and steaming his skin from the inside out.

"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!!!"

The slaves were emitting steam all over their bodies, and the runes of the Dragon's Horn emitted white light, which quickly covered the sky above the Invincible Iron Victory battleship, covering the blue, leaving only a vast white wilderness above everyone's heads.

"Aoaoaohou!~" The dragon was roaring and struggling, its wings flapping uncontrollably, flapping again and again.

"Stop!" Victarion stretched out his hand, his eyes full of bloodshot, his palm seemed to have lost a piece of flesh, veins and bones bulged, and he shouted loudly.

No one has blown the dragon's horn for a long time, but the remaining sound still echoes in my ears and the white light still shines.

Viserion roared a few times, flapped his wings, and fell to the ground again and again, getting closer and closer to the ground, flying uncontrollably towards the coast.

Lei Ge floundered a few times and fell heavily to the ground, falling headfirst into the pile of corpses that the Dragon Queen's soldiers had just piled up to burn. The body parts fell to the ground one after another like rubble from a hill.

Jorah Mormont in the distance seemed to have foreseen something and immediately organized his soldiers to control the fallen Dhaug. The Unsullied pushed a two-wheeled cart over.

"What a pity." Victarion narrowed his eyes and looked at the thousands of Dragon Queen's soldiers gathered on the coast, while his own longships were scattered all over the Slaver's Bay, with no more than a hundred crew members, and many plunderers were still on the shore trying to plunder the spoils.

Viserion fluttered a few times and landed on the deck just below the Dragon's Horn, almost falling on the two surviving slaves.

"Woo, woo, woo!~" The other side reacted quickly enough, and the plunderers who had not yet returned to the longship were instantly surrounded by the Unsullied. Jorah Mormont led the cavalry and seemed to be rushing towards his Invincible Iron Victory.

"Bang!" The iron chain that had been prepared to bind the dragon was immediately tied around Viserion's long neck, and he was dragged to the bow by four or five strong iron men.

"This," Victarion thought, "is the iron coin for the dragon queen."

He turned back to the cabin, came to the dark-skinned woman, carried her horizontally to the bed, and vented his desire.

The woman had no expression on her face. Her tongue had been cut off by Euron long ago, just like the sailors on his warship. She just looked at him blankly and obediently let him have fun.

After Victarion left, the dark-skinned woman touched her forehead, carefully feeling her body temperature, walked to the table, picked up the flesh with the rotten sores, and swallowed it mouthful by mouthful.

(End of this chapter)