When you were in this game, you had to keep your word. If I said I would move your whole family, then I would definitely move your whole family.
After the Autonomy Council was quickly prepared and established, and the High Septon was dragged out of the Starry Sept and paraded through the streets... After the entire internal and external political environment of Oldtown had been stabilized, House Hightower, realizing that no one would come to their rescue, finally recognized the situation and began to cooperate by packing their luggage and planning their journey. On the last day of the seven-day deadline Aegor had set, a week after he entered Oldtown, they set off for King's Landing under the "escort" of a full contingent of Unsullied.
Turning his hand made clouds, overturning it made rain. It was probably something like this, right?
Aegor had never thought of himself as someone with a thirst for power. His entire path in this world had been helplessly pushed forward. But when he truly stood in a high position and enjoyed the feeling of looking down on everything, he admitted that he did feel a little lightheaded.
Having completed the epic achievement of "moving the Lord of the Hightower," Aegor still did not leave with them. He received good news from both the Iron Islands and the Arbor, so he flexibly changed his original itinerary and decided to continue overseeing Oldtown, supervising and commanding the assembly, integration, and training of the fleets from the Iron Islands, Oldtown, and the Redwynes. Here, he would equip most of the artillery carried by the Western Expeditionary Army onto the ships and conduct naval combat adaptation training for the artillerymen...
Aegor would depart slightly later than those traveling by land, and would very likely return to King's Landing a few steps slower. Daenerys would certainly be exceptionally agitated and anxious while waiting for this. But a little waiting would definitely be worth it. King's Landing could not possibly fall into the hands of the slave masters, and when he returned to the Narrow Sea, he would surely be leading a united fleet that had already raised the red dragon banner, was fully integrated, and ready for immediate combat.
Today, he was going to the harbor to inspect the first phase results of mounting the cannons on the ships.
The wooden carriage wheels clattered over the flagstone road, the rhythmic sound accompanied by constant side-to-side swaying. As the former economic capital of Westeros, Oldtown's urban construction and infrastructure were extremely complete, but like all early-developed areas and pioneers, they were somewhat old and in disrepair. He hoped the upcoming Autonomy Council would make good use of the initial maintenance funds he had given them and truly do some good deeds that would benefit the citizens... If they could not, or even if they were corrupt and embezzled the funds, it would not matter. Economic problems were always the best political leverage. When the time came to deal with them in the future, they could be readily used again to replace them with a group of people more obedient and loyal to Daenerys.
Ahead on the road, noise and shouting came again. This must be the cavalry escorting his Hand of the Queen's procession, driving away stalls and other vehicles along the way. When he was a commoner before transmigrating, he had also been annoyed more than once by this kind of ostentatious behavior that disturbed the public. But now, he truly understood how precious every second of his time was and how it could not be wasted. In this dangerous enemy territory, he absolutely could not be obstructed or delayed on the road by any accident, becoming a fixed target for assassination or murder.
Although his carriage had been reinforced with a "bulletproof" design, large weapons like the dragon-hunting ballista could still easily pierce through it.
The noise quickly subsided. If the stalls had spread too far, they must have been packed up. If there were pedestrians or other vehicles coming from the opposite direction, they had to stop by the roadside to let him pass first. The coachman lightly flicked the whip in his hand, slightly speeding up, wanting to pass through this narrow section flanked by buildings as quickly as possible.
Aegor withdrew his thoughts and turned his head to look inside the carriage, feeling somewhat amused and helpless at the two Red Priestesses, one large and one small, sitting opposite him.
Although he had clearly informed Myrcella that he would not transfer her work, this sensitive and stubborn little princess still took advantage of his inattention, ran to Melisandre, and, under the latter's witness, swore a sacred oath of conversion to R'hllor, vowing to dedicate herself to the red god from then on, never marry, never have children, and wholeheartedly follow and serve him for her entire life. She even used her own pocket money to somehow commission a set, or perhaps several sets, of red dresses similar in style to priestly robes, and had been wearing them since yesterday.
At this moment, she sat side by side with the stunningly beautiful Melisandre, looking like both sisters and mother and daughter, which truly made Aegor feel a stir of desire.
Although they were pleasing to the eye and capable, he had to seriously think about how to explain this to Tyrion.
...
The attack happened at this moment, without any warning.
The source of the explosion was a two-wheeled cart that had just been driven to the side of the road by the forward cavalry, or more accurately, the bags of goods loaded on it. The ignition device was a red-hot crossbow bolt shot from a half-open window not far above it... The timing of its launch was incredibly precise, hitting just as the carriage Aegor was riding in passed the cart. The steel penetrated the sacks and the cloth tightly wrapped around the gunpowder bags, and the high temperature ignited the dense black powder. The gases produced by the combustion and expansion violently burst outward, instantly tearing apart their container and disguise, throwing out countless fragments amid intense light and heat.
Aegor was riding in a specially made carriage with an enclosed compartment, and he had not opened the window to look outside, so the flash of fire did not injure his eyes. He only felt the deep, booming sound of "boom," and then the entire carriage was blown away as if a god had slapped it into the center of a storm with a giant palm. It rolled twice before stopping against a building across the street, throwing him into a corner of the compartment as well. His head hit a solid wooden beam, and his vision briefly went black.
East of Oldtown, in the center of the temporary Western Expeditionary Army camp outside the walls, now empty except for a few dozen basic guards, Rhaegal, who had been sleeping soundly in his dragon's nest, suddenly opened his bronze eyes. He raised his long neck and looked toward the small mushroom cloud slowly rising in the west, then got up and leaped. Amid a gust of wind and startled cries, he flapped his wings and flew toward the city.
"My lord, wake up!"
Aegor was shaken back to reality. He groggily opened his eyes, forcing himself to sit up on the floor... the ceiling... of the carriage compartment. Enduring the severe pain that felt as if his whole body were falling apart, he observed his surroundings amid intense dizziness and ringing in his ears.
He did not know whether it was because the quality was excellent or because the power of black powder was limited to this extent, but although the carriage compartment was upside down, flipped a hundred and eighty degrees, the overall structure was still intact. Only the windows had been shattered by the blast. Even the door panel was still in its proper place. Light shone in diagonally through the window openings, and the air was filled with choking smoke and the smell of gunpowder.
"How long was I unconscious?" As soon as he spoke, Aegor realized this was a pointless question. The smoke had not even dissipated yet, so he must have only lost consciousness for a few seconds before waking up. He immediately changed his question. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Myrcella said somewhat guiltily. She had been riding in the same carriage as Aegor and Melisandre. Both adults had blacked out while she was fine. Of course, it was not simply because of good luck or toughness. It was because she had used the Hand of the Queen and Lady Melisandre as human shields, which was why she had not ended up similarly bloody-headed and unconscious. "You're bleeding!"
Aegor, with his ears ringing, could not hear Myrcella's answer clearly, but he still saw her gesture as if to touch his head. Reaching up to his hair, he found his palm indeed full of blood.
That was close!
Although he was wearing armor, it was impossible to wear a helmet at all times. If the impact had been just a little heavier...
Following the shock and lingering fear was a surge of burning heat and anger that suddenly erupted from his chest. The dragon scale bestowed by R'hllor seemed to have sensed its host's injury and peril, and was sending waves of heat to all parts of his body with incredible intensity and efficiency. Not only did it quickly stop the bleeding on his scalp, but it also suppressed the widespread pain in his torso. Overriding the discomfort was a sudden, incredibly clear and surging sense of battle intent and power.
He now wanted to tear the assassins who had planned this attack apart with his bare hands!
After Myrcella confirmed that Aegor was not in danger, she turned her head toward the carriage door. "What should we do now? How about I go outside first and let you know when it's safe?"
"Don't move. Stay in the carriage!" Aegor grabbed Myrcella, who was about to lean out, and pulled her back to his side. "Since someone thought of and had the ability to organize this attack, they must be determined to kill me. They must have a backup plan. Leaving the carriage now would make you a living target for crossbow bolts. Wait here and take care of Lady Melisandre until the patrol team comes to secure the area and provide aid!"
(To be continued.)