All Living Things in King's Landing and the Burning of the Vipers

King's Landing.

This city had not only the Red Keep where the royal family lived and comfortable houses for the nobility, but even more haphazardly built shacks, earthen houses packed from mud, and decrepit multistory buildings piled atop one another. The vast majority of its population of five hundred thousand lived in such conditions.

The nearby Crownlands, the southern Reach, and thriving maritime trade kept the city functioning, ensuring the common folk did not starve to death. They had "brown stew" boiled from who knew what to drink, and wealthier citizens and craftsmen could even taste meat now and then.

A black-haired woman ran excitedly home with a basket in hand. Beside her were many others just as excited. Some carried baskets covered with cloth, while others hugged bundles to their chests, but every face shone with joy.

The woman pushed open an old wooden door and ducked into the low earthen house. The tiny room served as both kitchen and bedroom. The simple bed was covered in grime, though the bedding and straw beneath it were clean. A sickly little girl sat on a chair with one broken leg, looking eagerly at her mother.

"Mom, I'm hungry."

The woman hurriedly set down her basket. "All right, be good. We have something tasty today. Where's your father?" She swiftly took several jars from the basket, along with two or three fresh carrots, a cabbage, a handful of peas, and two pieces of bread that were clearly still soft and contained few visible impurities. More importantly, there was also a sizable piece of cured meat, seemingly fish.

The little girl's gaze was immediately drawn to the cured meat. "Dad went looking for you."

"What happened at the market today?" A tall man with silver hair and beard ducked in from outside. The moment he entered, he saw his wife efficiently chopping the cabbage and carrots and throwing them all into the pot over the hearth.

"Someone was giving out meat for free at the market today, along with cheap salt and spices." Without looking up, the woman poured the peas and a handful of oats from their own stored sack into the pot, stirred hard, then chopped the cured meat with a loud clatter.

"They said a member of the royal family had returned from the east to meet His Majesty the King. His people were selling some of their surplus food cheaply to common folk like us."

The woman tossed the chopped meat into the pot as well. "This meat is surprisingly fresh, and there's plenty of salt in it. We don't need to add any this time."

The man smiled and stroked his daughter's cheek. "Don't rush, little one. We're having meat today." He turned to the woman. "Dear, why didn't you buy more meat and bread?"

"We didn't have enough money." The woman pushed the jars toward him. "There's salt, pepper, chili, nutmeg, a little saffron, mint, and a tiny bit of cloves in here. Mother bless us, that septon said the medicine for our girl's illness contains saffron and nutmeg. Mother bless us, Mother bless us."

The man also touched his chest seven times. "The Seven bless us. Thank the Mother."

"The market will remain open for another three days." The woman stirred the porridge in the pot, cut three pieces of bread with her knife, and brought them over with bowls of the thick stew.

The man placed the largest piece of bread before his daughter, took a smaller piece for himself, and began eating it dipped in the stew. "All right. I'll go to the Smiths' Guild later and ask for an advance on my wages. We can buy more grain and meat to store away."

"Don't forget our daughter's medicine." The woman smiled as she watched her daughter devour the stew, rich with the smell of meat. "If you go too late, all those lords and nobles will buy it up."

"I know." Without hesitation, the man lifted his bowl and swallowed the stew in a few gulps. He took up the bread, wiped the remnants clean, and ate them. "I'm going now."

There were far more smiths at the Smiths' Guild asking for advances than the man had expected. He had to rely on his large frame just to force his way inside, where he received two chipped silver stags and more than a dozen copper coins.

"Listen up. If the guildmaster hadn't taken pity on you, you wouldn't get a single copper today."

The finance officer's shrill voice still echoed in his ears, but the man had only one thought now: get to the market as quickly as possible.

The market was already packed solid.

"Xiu Fu, why are you in such a hurry?" A smith who knew him stood behind him in line, holding an enormous loaf of bread and looking curiously at the anxious Xiu Fu.

"Is there still saffron and nutmeg?" Xiu Fu shouted, standing on tiptoe. The people ahead turned to look at the reckless man. The vendor shouted back impatiently, "Yes, yes, yes! Stay in line! Whether you can buy any, pray to the Seven!"

The smith immediately understood Xiu Fu's purpose after hearing what he needed. Leaning close, he whispered, "Xiu Fu, stop squeezing in here. Go to the docks. The goods in the market all come from there."

"How do you know?" Xiu Fu asked in astonishment.

"I have a relative who works as a ratcatcher in the Red Keep." The smith looked somewhat envious when he mentioned the Red Keep, but his face fell when he spoke of ratcatchers. "He said three princes riding dragon gods returned from overseas. They brought enough wealth to buy half the kingdom. The king personally knighted the three princes and invited the High Septon to anoint and baptize them. The princes took pity on the hardships of King's Landing's people and specially provided cheap, even free, goods for everyone. Hurry to the harbor."

Xiu Fu immediately broke into a run. He did not want to keep squeezing through the crowd.

He left the faint cries of "Long live King Viserys! Long live Prince Lonzell!" behind him.

The whole city of King's Landing was filled that day with cheers of "Long live King Viserys! Long live Prince Lonzell! May the gods bless the prince bestowed by the gods!"

Just as Xiu Fu successfully bought grain, meat, urgently needed medicine, and spices at the docks, then ran home carrying a bundle half as tall as himself, the sky suddenly darkened.

He could not help looking up.

A bronze dragon roared as it flew south, with a silver dragon close behind it.

The people's cheers grew even louder.

But the Red Keep was far from peaceful.

Viserys sat beside his beloved model of King's Landing, turning over a Valyrian steel ornament sent by Lonzell. No one knew what he was thinking until Daemon pushed open the door and entered.

The two brothers remained silent for a long time.

Until Viserys spoke first. "Little Jie and Little Lu did well." He handed the ornament to his younger brother. "I am satisfied that the kingdom has heirs like them."

Daemon looked toward the direction where the two dragons had flown beyond the window. He suddenly sighed, but said nothing.

On a tower platform of the Red Keep, Prince Aemond, the one-eyed prince, quietly watched the south. Yet his remaining eye held an indescribable envy. Lonzell had gifted the royal family an extremely pure sapphire, and the royal craftsmen planned to use it to make a splendid prosthetic eye for the one-eyed prince.

His brother Aegon had run off somewhere to fool around again. Other than seeing that drunken bastard with his acne-covered face and dark circles during the daytime audience ceremony, no amount of searching through the Red Keep could find his damned, absurd older brother.

Aemond could not help sighing as well.

Septon Collen was a missionary appointed by the High Septon, responsible for overseeing the Valaerys family's conversion. Regarding this matter, the learned ascetic was conflicted. He wanted badly to help a flock of lost lambs return to the embrace of the Seven, but their dragons and heathen faith meant this mission would inevitably be extremely difficult, even though their young leader had readily accepted the High Septon's baptism.

The moment he boarded the ship, Septon Collen received an enthusiastic welcome. Vansen Kaon, the chief retainer, personally poured him a cup of reddish honey water and solemnly declared that, in respect for his faith, no alcoholic beverages had been prepared.

Deeply honored, Septon Collen naturally drank the cup of water.

Then he had a strange dream.

In the dream, the Seven gazed lovingly upon him as he prayed devoutly, but without his noticing, the faces of the Seven began to change.

They became Lonzell's face. Masculine, aged, feminine, and skeletal versions of Lonzell all lowered their heads at once to gaze upon the devout septon.

Then scales grew, and dragon wings spread high.

As Septon Collen immersed himself in prayer, seven humanoid dragons were already crowned amid stars, fire, and blood.

"God is dragon, dragon is god. Praise the Seven, praise the ancient kings, praise the great Lonzell Valaerys." Those were Septon Collen's first words upon waking.

"Lower the bridge!" A masked man clad in bronze scale armor and a spiked helmet shouted, holding a spear. Countless Dornishmen followed behind soldiers carrying a long bridge, endlessly hurling javelins and arrows at the plain castle before them.

The castle was small, but its black basalt walls had stood the test of time, while the bottomless dry moat had protected it countless times. The white star and purple lightning on the black banner proclaimed the castle's allegiance.

The Dondarrion family of Blackhaven.

The Dornishmen bore banners showing venomous snakes biting at ankles. These bandits from Wyl had joined forces with nomads from the Red Mountains and Wildlings, forming a great force that had burned the villages and fields outside Blackhaven, slaughtered able-bodied men, and violated women and children. Ser Davos Dondarrion, heir to Count Edric Dondarrion, had unfortunately been killed by a poisoned Dornish crossbow bolt. Along with the heir, twelve knights, more than a hundred cavalrymen, and over four hundred infantrymen had perished.

"Maester, has King's Landing replied?" Count Edric ran along the wall with his shield raised and ducked into the tower. "When will our new Governor of the Borderlands come to relieve us? Have Nightsong and Stonehelm replied? What about Storm's End?"

The maester raised his head tremblingly. "Young Lord Jon has not replied yet. Nightsong and Stonehelm say they cannot even protect themselves, and Storm's End has not replied either."

"Seven Hells." Count Edric tightened his breastplate and ducked back outside with his shield raised. With a bang, a javelin struck directly into his shield, startling him badly.

The Dondarrion soldiers loosed volley after volley of arrows, hoping to slow the Dornish advance.

But their long bridge drew ever closer.

"Dragon!" A sharp-eyed soldier suddenly shouted. The count hurriedly looked in the direction the soldier pointed.

There was nothing there.

"You—" The count was about to explode in fury.

But then he saw the Dornishmen below suddenly descend into chaos, abandoning their siege equipment and fleeing backward in rout.

"Come back! Come back! Don't panic! Archers! Archers!" The commander witnessed a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life.

A bronze dragon that blotted out the sky slowly rose from behind Blackhaven. Its dragon eyes were cold, and the silver-haired youth in the saddle wore magnificent scale armor and a helmet shaped like a dragon spreading its wings. He coldly gave his companion the command.

"Dracarys."

The commander watched helplessly as dragonfire consumed him. Before he could even cry out, he became a lump of charred black flesh.

"Aaaaaah!"

Vomysor climbed higher, leveled its wings, and glided toward the fleeing Dornishmen. Torrents of dragonfire poured down like water. Everywhere on the battlefield came the agonized screams of Dornishmen, though even more were simply burned into piles of charred remains.

Silverwing also reached the battlefield at that moment. Valar lay sprawled across the saddle, shouting excitedly, "Dracarys!" Silverwing obediently followed behind Vomysor, breathing fire.

The Dornishmen, who had seemed so invincible moments ago, now found themselves in hell.

The banners of the vipers slowly turned to ash in the flames.

Along with them, more than a thousand panicked raiders fleeing for their lives were reduced to ash.