The Bearded Monk of Norvos Prophesies

Half a month later.

Norvos Hills, High Mountain Stronghold.

The sky was dim and sunless, perpetually shrouded in a dense blanket of clouds. The climate was cold and damp.

Mountain ranges rose and fell beneath the stronghold, surrounded on all sides by towering peaks and dense pine forests.

Of the nine Free Cities, Norvos had perhaps the harshest environment.

"Stay alert! Don't let the dragon catch you by surprise!"

On the battlements, a bearded monk in a red robe berated the soldiers on guard.

The soldiers carried battle-axes, and blue axe tattoos had been branded onto their faces.

This was a religious tradition in Norvos, signifying that a warrior was wed to his axe and would remain faithful to the weapon in his hands for life.

Faced with the scolding of a religious official, the soldiers cowered and dared not show the slightest hint of defiance.

"Don't let your guard down. The Dragonlords of Valyria are the most treacherous of all!"

The bearded monk spoke with a flawless Valyrian accent, his sallow face etched with gravity.

Ten days ago, large numbers of mercenaries from Qohor had been transferred and stationed throughout the Norvos Hills.

Three days ago, a great army had encamped below the High Mountain Stronghold.

It looked as if a storm were about to break.

As soon as he had finished speaking,

"Siga—"

A colossal dragon, black as charcoal, soared over the mountains. Its vast wings blotted out the sky above, like dark clouds rolling in overhead.

Rhaegar smiled. "Dragonflame!"

Boom—

Cannibal threw back his head and roared, spewing ash-like Emerald Green Dragonflame that drifted lightly over the entire stronghold.

In an instant, a green veil covered the sky.

"No! No, no!"

The guards' eyes bulged, and their ranks instantly fell into chaos.

Sizzle, sizzle...

Emerald Green Dragonflame