Yet an old man at his side looked far calmer, for he knew the dragon's target was the Iron Islands, not them.
Even so, the hand gripping his longsword began to tremble involuntarily, veins bulging on its back, as though only a tight grip on the hilt could hold back the fear already spreading through his heart.
The old man had survived countless sea battles and even witnessed the towering waves stirred up by the great storm at Dragonstone more than a decade ago. Yet faced with the enormous creature sweeping overhead, he still felt an instinctive shudder.
Some of the bolder knights and officers tried to stand, only for the rush of air to send them staggering a few steps before they fell back down, striking the deck with dull thuds.
Among those who did not know the truth, some dropped straight to their knees on the deck, believing the end of the world had come, and kept crying, "True Dragon, protect us!"
"That's the three-headed dragon from the rumors, the one belonging to His Majesty, the Targaryen Dragonlord..." a soldier who had heard a few of the tales whispered, his voice full of awe as his gaze followed the golden figure receding into the distance.
"I heard an old sailor in a tavern say that one breath of her dragonfire could melt straight through an entire castle..."
"Three heads. She really has three heads..." another soldier murmured. "The stories said she had three heads, but I thought they'd made it up..."
He blinked hard, but the sight of those three slowly turning heads remained unmistakably clear. The eyes on each head gleamed like molten gold, sending a chill through him.
"Lord Horas..." The adjutant returned to Horas's side, his voice still trembling slightly. "Now that His Majesty the