Game of Thrones: The Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon

These two once glorious races have been shattered by the crushing force of history. Although they are numerous on the continent of Westeros, they are now indistinguishable individuals resulting from racial fusion.

Only on the continent of Essos, the homeland of the Andals and Rhoynar, can the Andals and Rhoynar maintain their traditions and pure bloodlines, and now the two races are reduced to village-level skirmishes.

This exciting news quickly spread throughout the village, and then, under the leadership of the clan chief, the entire village moved to their long-awaited home.

"By the Seven Gods."

"Our merciful Heavenly Father still loves us."

With a sense of pilgrimage, the Andals migrated as a whole to the source of the Upper Loen River.

Their Andal king, crowned by the seven gods, established a new city here, his piety bordering on a prayer at every step.

During their relocation, they encountered people from other Andal villages who also appeared to be migrating as a whole to the city of Andalus.

The two migrating groups met briefly, but remained wary of each other, refraining from any communication and silently continuing towards their destination.

Young Bessie gripped a dagger at his waist in one hand and carried a rudimentary bow and arrows on his back, watching warily the Andal caravan that was also migrating in the distance. The men from the many villages around him were doing the same.

Seeing that the other party indeed had no malicious intent, he lowered his guard slightly and turned to look at his companion.

"It looks like we really have to move there now."

The boy spoke in a calm voice.

"Why? Doesn't that sound like a scam?"

When the other boy, Mil, heard that his companion was also stubbornly clinging to his beliefs, he became quite anxious.

“The Seven Gods abandoned us long ago, otherwise we wouldn’t have been bullied by that despicable Royna.”

Mil's voice sounded somewhat impatient; he felt that everyone in the village was possessed, and that he was the only intelligent person.

"And where on earth did this king, crowned by the seven gods, suddenly appear from?"

However, Mir's words startled his companion Bessie. He hadn't expected his friend to question the Seven Gods. Bessie glared at him and rebuked him.

"Shut up, Mir!"

"Stop saying that!"

He was chosen as the son of a warrior from the village. Although he was not a knight and had not been anointed with holy oil, where in a small village could one find such good conditions? Being physically strong and skilled in combat was enough to be chosen as the son of a warrior to guard the will of the seven gods.

Bessie also has a seven-pointed star symbol engraved on his arm, which is his pride and his belief, so he naturally will not allow his companions to question the existence of the Seven Gods.

Bessie's reprimand was a bit loud, which immediately attracted the attention of the surrounding villagers.

The young son of a warrior took a slight breath, then waved his hand to tell the surrounding villagers that nothing had happened, that he and Mir were just chatting.

Mir was timid and shrank back in fright when his companion shouted at him. Then, surrounded by the gazes of the villagers, all his anger dissipated.

"Remember this, Mil, and don't say such stupid things again."

"The brilliance of the Seven Gods is beyond question."

After explaining the situation to the surrounding villagers, Bessie turned around, grabbed Mil's shoulder, and spoke to her companion in as calm a voice as possible.

His anger had subsided considerably, because he knew that Mil was just that kind of person—outspoken and sometimes so anxious that he didn't even know what he was saying.

Mir nodded vigorously.

"never mind."

Then Bessie's eyes flickered slightly, and she shook her head, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Actually, I also feel that there is something strange about this matter, but there is nothing I can do. My mother is willing to move, and she is almost there now."

Bessie was somewhat helpless about this.

The relocation of the entire clan was not a forced order; a considerable number of people chose to stay, while others chose to leave.

It's hard to leave one's homeland.

Bessie didn't want to leave her home, but for some reason her mother insisted on moving.

The boy couldn't argue with his mother, and since his father had recently died, Bessie didn't want to anger her, so she had no choice but to come along.

Mir's parents were in the same situation; after receiving a sum of money, they chose to follow the chieftain to the city of Andalus.

Mir couldn't argue with his parents either, so he could only suppress his resentment.

...

"A combination of faith-based offensive and a money offensive."

"Your Majesty's methods are indeed excellent."

And in the so-called 'Andalus City'.

Viserys had been learning to ride a horse for the past few days, and now, sitting on the back of a white pony, he was able to move around a bit while gripping the harness, but he couldn't quite control the direction.

Standing below the horse was a young man with black hair, still wearing a thin academic robe but with an extra cloak draped over his shoulders. He was shivering slightly from the wind as he walked and talked with Viserys.

"Is that so?"

"Scholar Günther is too kind."

Viserys gripped the saddle with one hand, his cheeks slightly tense. He didn't want others to see his nervousness due to his inability to ride, so he pretended to be nonchalant and then spoke.

Chapter 80 Andalus City

Winter is coming soon.

"Although winters in Andas aren't too cold, I can't let the soldiers spend the winter in flimsy tents."

Viserys gripped the horse harness with one hand, then glanced down at Maester Günther standing beneath his horse.

"Bachelor of Arts".

"His Majesty."

The black-haired scholar rubbed his nose; he felt like he was about to catch a cold from the wind.

"Relay my orders..."

As Viserys sat on his white horse, about to say something, he suddenly saw another caravan migrating from afar in the distance.

These people were persuaded by his faith and financial incentives to migrate to the still-under-construction city of Andalus.

tata tao...

In the densely packed Targaryen camp, two knights rode out to greet them, inquiring about their intentions and verifying their identities.

Viserys glanced at the team that had come from afar, then looked away.

Such teams have been around every day these days, so it's no longer surprising.

"Let them build their own settlements."

Then, Viserys remembered what he hadn't finished saying and began to add it.

"Scholar, convey my order: divide these prisoners into three groups and have them work through the night to rebuild the castle."

"I don't want the progress to stop for even a second."

"Do you understand?"

Viserys' face was tense, and his voice was calm but undeniably authoritative.

Then the little king pulled on the reins, trying to make the white horse understand his meaning, and turned the horse's head to ride away into the distance.

Tap tap…

The sound of horses' hooves swirls up the grass on the ground, and his voice comes through with them.

Tell them... once the castle is finished, let them leave.

"Of course, if those bandits were still alive by then..."

Viserys rode away from the hill.

But in the distance.

The newly arrived Andal caravan was talking to two knights who had ridden out of the military camp.

Among this group, two boys saw the city of Andalus that had been rumored in recent days, and also saw a boy riding away on horseback not far away.

"That must be the son of this 'His Majesty the King'."

"Mir said sourly. Although he didn't know much about horses, just looking at the horse's coat shimmering in the sunlight and the boy's gorgeous clothes on the back of the horse was enough to prove that the other party was no ordinary person."

Moreover, the other party was accompanied by attendants.

He saw Maester Gunther, who had been left behind by Viserys and had eaten some dust. He dusted himself off and shook his head before conveying Viserys's orders.

He knew that Viserys meant what he said; if he had promised to release the bandits after the castle was built, he would definitely do so.

However, what would happen after releasing these bandits was unknown to Maester Gunther.

In short, he felt that these guys who were causing trouble in this land probably wouldn't get a good end.

On the other side...

As the village's 'son of warriors,' young Bessie frowned slightly upon hearing his companion's words.

He really couldn't bear to interrupt him, but his friend's lack of culture made him feel somewhat embarrassed, so he interrupted him.

"Stop, Mir, please stop talking."

Do you think the king's son should also be called a son?

Young Mir looked somewhat bewildered upon hearing his words.

"Isn't he the king's son?"

"The king has been cuckolded?"

Hearing her companion's silly words, Bessie rubbed her temples again, feeling a headache coming on.

"of course not."

"Stop embarrassing yourself, Mir. I've always advised you to broaden your horizons."

"The sons of noblemen are called 'young masters,' but the king is the greatest nobleman. What do you think he should be called?"

Bessie spoke as she watched Viserys' departing figure in the distance.