Redd rode on the back of King Ghidorah, overlooking the city that was being "purified" by the flames, without any pity or fluctuation on his face.
The core of the resistance (altars and dark creations) had been destroyed by Aegon, and the remaining organized resistance apparently collapsed under Dragonfire.
He no longer hesitated and gave the final order to Marcus on the ground:
"Send an order to the entire army to rush into the city and take over everything!"
"Primary target: control the warehouse, weapons depot, temple area and the wealthy area that has not been seriously damaged!"
"Suppress any form of resistance, gather survivors, and extinguish unnecessary fire sources (with the premise of protecting valuable materials and areas)."
"From now on, everything here belongs to me."
The war has come to an end in the most violent and thorough way.
In the Norvos city-state at night, the outlines of towers and temples were silent in the flickering light of torches.
In the Governor's Council Hall, beside the round table inlaid with ivory, the incense robes of the bearded monks and the velvet coats embroidered with gold threads of the Governors were almost next to each other, but they were clearly different.
Smoke filled the air, and the air was so thick it could squeeze water out of it.
"Waiting means waiting to die." The chief monk's voice was dry, like a worn scripture, "Qohor's altar was razed to the ground, not even a stone with runes engraved on it was left.
He hates gods and all traces of the past. We go forward and offer the keys to the city and the seal of the temple, and maybe... we can save the foundation of the temple."
"To surrender voluntarily is to be the first to stick out your neck." The spokesman of the Governor's Council, a man with a thin cheek and sharp eyes, tapped his finger on the table, "Qohor resisted, so he was crushed.
Let's wait and see if the Three Daughters Kingdom will finally feel the cold.
When his army arrives at the city gates, we will open the city gates again. This is forced by the situation and a helpless move to protect the people. This is different."
"Deceiving yourself!" A younger monk couldn't help but raise his voice, "Braavos's envoy is still watching at sea, and Three Daughters's kingdom only has calculations. 'Different'?
In the eyes of Dragon King, is there any difference between a coward who steps early and a coward who steps late?
He demolished the altar of Qohor, and the next one will be our temple of Norvos!
Those idols, sacred objects, ancient contracts... things we have guarded for thousands of years!"
"What we have guarded for thousands of years is, first of all, the city and the living people!" the governor retorted, "the temple can be rebuilt and the faith can be hidden in the heart.
If we offend him and make him think that we must eradicate him, then we will be doomed!"
The debate circulates, and fear is the only consensus.
Fight to the death? This thought passed through everyone's mind like a ghost, but no one mentioned it.
The ruins of the Qohor city wall and the "Black Goat" altar, which was said to have been completely purified by Dragonfire, have extinguished all the blood.
They are not warriors, but businessmen who are good at calculating and monks who serve the gods. In the face of absolute power, they only know how to weigh which surrender gesture has less loss.
At the same time, in the distant Volantis and the Black Wall, the new nobles were also talking secretly. Red wine swayed in the crystal glasses, reflecting the gloomy faces.
"Those Norvos guys are probably still arguing about the time to kneel down." A Tiger Party member sneered, but there was not much relief in the laughter.
"Timing is not important anymore." An Elephant Party veteran said slowly, "Qohor fell too fast. That was not a war, it was... erasure.
He holds not only dragons, but also powers that we cannot understand.
Three Daughters Kingdom may be thinking about how to please this new overlord rather than how to stop him."
"The entire Free Cities..." someone whispered, with a fatalistic trembling in his voice, "Nine city-states, nine fates, will they eventually become nine coins with different patterns for the same owner?"
Qohor, The bustling street market in the past is now filled with smoke and dust and a strange silence.
At the ruins of the altar, huge stones have been pried up and carried away, and the deep pit is being filled with soil.
The soldiers worked in silence, and the officer overseeing the work vigilantly scanned any place where strange lines might remain.
Redd stood on the terrace of a tall tower not far away, overlooking everything.
The wind blew his dark cloak, and he was playing with a black stone taken out from the core of the altar. There seemed to be some warmth left on the surface of the stone, but no abnormal fluctuations could be felt inside.
"God..." He whispered to himself, tightening his fingers, and the stone turned into fine powder in his palm, falling from between his fingers and drifting in the wind.
In his eyes, it was not sacred, but an anchor and tool set by more powerful and ancient creatures. His territory did not need such an anchor.
He cast his gaze to the northwest, which was the direction of Norvos, and also the direction of all the city-states that were still watching, calculating, and hesitating.
He did not urge the army to leave immediately. It takes time to digest Qohor. More importantly, he wanted to let the fear fully ferment, so that those rulers who thought they were smart could make the "correct" choice on their own while waiting in despair.
Surrender voluntarily, or march to the city? For him, the difference may not really be big.
What he ultimately wants is a completely cleansed new order without the shadow of "gods".
The monks and governors of Norvos are now carefully calculating for him which way can allow them to retain a little more of the faded glory of the past in the dust of the new era.
Redd's fingers traced across the spread map, finally stopping at the position of Norvos, tapping unconsciously with his fingertips.
A direct march can certainly demonstrate force, but attacking a well-prepared city-state that is famous for its religion and fortifications will inevitably result in considerable losses.
Persuading surrender in writing is like a psychological game that requires precise chips and timing.
Marcus' footsteps interrupted his thoughts.
The news brought by this person made Redd raise his eyebrows slightly.
"Viserys took the initiative to cease the war? And also assigned Red Mountains's peripheral area to Dorne?"
Redd repeated the key information, with a playful arc at the corner of his mouth.
"This is not a concession that the 'nice' king would make.
Dorne has taken a real advantage... unless he encounters trouble and has to withdraw."
He immediately thought of Iron Bank.
He took over Braavos Bank with iron-blooded means, emptied nearly 70% of its reserves, and forced a large number of high-risk loans to stop. The entire Essos financial system was stagnated.
This shock has obviously spread to the other side of the Narrow Sea.
"Interesting." Redd said to himself.
He did not immediately connect this matter to his actions, but his intuition told him that there must be a connection.
In the afternoon, the letter brought by the raven confirmed his guess.