The mont the molten gold touched Viserys, he absorbed the crystal-like warhorse statue.
The divine essence belonging to the Horse God.
The instant he absorbed the divinity, Viserys discovered he could move his body again.
He desperately dodged the falling molten gold.
He only managed to save his head, barely avoiding disfigurent.
The golden liquid poured through his collar and down the back of his neck.
Scalding molten gold wrapped around his body.
The horrifying part was that the basin seed bottomless.
The gold kept pouring until nearly eighty to ninety percent of Viserys's body was covered.
At first, Viserys thought the burns would not be fatal... But he had underestimated R'hllor's thods.
The molten gold was mixed with divine power.
This bastard truly intended to kill him. And it had to be done through this thod.
Through this "ritual."
'I've already absorbed the divinity... I shouldn't die, right?' That was what Viserys told himself.
But his heartbeat slowed more and more. He felt no pain, yet his consciousness beca increasingly blurry.
Like soone who had gone ten days without sleep.
He could hear the soldiers around him descend into chaos as they rushed to surround him.
R'hllor had departed.
The soldiers had regained control of their bodies.
In his fading vision, Viserys saw a white figure appear before him.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Can you hear ?!"
Arthur's voice?
With what little awareness he had left, Viserys reached out weakly, trying to find him.
Arthur grabbed his hand tightly, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face.
He did not understand why Viserys's armor was so hot.
Then he looked closer.
The inside of the armor was filled with solidified gold.
The sll of burnt flesh continuously filled his nose.
"Your Majesty, hold on! I'll find soone to treat you!"
But Viserys used the last of his strength to speak.
"No... Ser Arthur... listen... listen to ..."
He grew sleepier.
More exhausted.
He did not know whether he would ever wake again.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
Arthur held Viserys in his arms helplessly like a child.
"Ser Arthur... don't... don't execute my royal guards... let them protect... Aegon... the throne..."
"Aemon... marshal... make them marry... Braavos... Volantis... store more grain... Long Night... be careful..."
Viserys no longer had enough strength to form complete sentences.
He could only speak in fragnts, compressing his plans and orders as much as possible.
Arthur had followed Viserys longer than he had followed Rhaegar.
He fully understood what Viserys ant.
"Mother... don't let her... be sad..."
After saying that, Viserys's hand fell limply.
"Your Majesty!"
Arthur let out a grief-stricken roar like a wounded beast.
At that mont, Gerold arrived with reinforcents.
Hearing Arthur's cries, he practically stumbled his way over.
He saw Viserys lying in Arthur's arms, his neck covered in hardened gold.
"Arthur... what happened?! What happened to His Majesty?!"
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
Gerold knelt before him, trying to wake him.
Arthur cried openly.
Gerold, anwhile, forcibly held back his tears.
As Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he was the first to regain his composure.
"Royal Guards, hear my orders! Seal all information!"
"Spread the news that His Majesty slew Drogo! Tell the entire army! Tell the Dothraki and the Norvoshi as well!"
"Yes, Commander!"
"I'm going to find Connington!"
Without waiting for Arthur's response, Gerold mounted his horse and rushed down the mountain.
But before he could leave, one of his guards shouted:
"Ser! The Braavosi and Volantenes have arrived!"
Gerold pulled his horse to a halt and looked into the distance.
The forces of Braavos approached from the north under their banners. The army of Volantis advanced from the south atop war elephants.
"Inform the entire army! Prepare for battle!"
"Yes, Commander!"
Originally, Gerold intended to hide the news of Viserys's death from the troops.
But now that Braavos and Volantis had arrived, it could no longer be concealed.
And if those two hostile powers learned Viserys had fallen, there was every chance they would strike imdiately to destroy House Targaryen.
Even Ogo might take his people and leave.
This battle had not been cheap for the Targaryens.
Though their losses were manageable, they were still severe. The army retained roughly seventy to eighty percent of its combat strength.
But for Gohor, this battle had cented its position as the overlord of the Rhoyne.
The trade routes across the Dothraki Sea had been opened.
Gohor's geographical importance would only continue to rise.
"After this war, I'm finally going ho to marry a wife. I killed seventeen Dothraki. At fifty acres per head, that ans I'll get... I'll get..."
An Andal soldier bragged excitedly to his comrades, though his math was terrible.
"Oh, shut up. Out of those seventeen, ten were those crazy old bastards."
"What was the phrase again? Unard? Yeah, unard. They didn't even have nails in their hands. What's there to brag about?"
"So what? If they resisted, they were enemies. His Majesty will definitely count it!"
The soldiers calculated their rewards and military rits, eager to return to Gohor.
The stories from this battle alone would last for generations.
After such a massive victory, the atmosphere within the Targaryen army was filled with celebration and hope.
Even the issue of the elderly and child soldiers had solved itself.
The burden was gone.
Oberyn had personally witnessed Drogo rampaging across the battlefield like a monster.
What he still could not understand was how Viserys had managed to kill sothing like that.
Didn't that an Viserys was even stronger than Drogo?
All this ti, Viserys had mainly displayed strategy and intelligence. Who could have imagined his personal combat strength was this terrifying too?
And then there was Drogo resurrecting after death.
Oberyn felt like he no longer understood this world at all. Especially now that magic was openly appearing on battlefields.
No one in Westeros possessed anything remotely like this.
While he was still lost in thought, a squad of royal guards rode through the army with Drogo's severed head mounted on spears.
"His Majesty has won! His Majesty cut off Drogo's head!"
"His Majesty has won! His Majesty cut off Drogo's head!"
The Targaryen soldiers erupted with excitent upon hearing the news.
Their king could communicate with gods and slay monsters. In this chaotic age, nothing gave people more security than that.
"Drogo... lost?"
At that mont, Ogo was resting inside a temporary tent.
After witnessing Drogo's overwhelming strength earlier, he had nearly decided to flee.
But the situation had changed again.
Suddenly, a cold wind brushed past the back of his neck. Ogo turned around in surprise.
"Maester Cromwell?"
But Cromwell did not answer.
More than twenty armored warriors wearing steel masks had already surrounded him.
"Maester Cromwell... what is the aning of this?"
Cromwell's eyes were icy cold.
He clearly had no intention of explaining.
As the warriors stepped closer, Ogo hurriedly dropped to his knees and begged:
"Why?! Cromwell! I want to see His Majesty!"
___________
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