Ernst dodged Aegor's first chop with lightning speed, immediately realizing that although the Hand of the Queen before him had decent speed and strength, his swordsmanship was barely second-rate. To prevent this from being a trap of feigned weakness, he conservatively avoided attacking vital points directly. Instead, he held one dagger ready to block any possible change in Aegor's swordwork, and used the other to slash at Aegor's waist. While easily slicing through Aegor's black clothes and discerning the type and outline of the armor beneath, he did not encounter the expected counterattack. Only after confirming that the target was not feigning weakness did he boldly duck to evade the second sweep, while confidently using both daggers to fiercely slash at Aegor's arms.
These two fierce attacks, which should have severed both of Aegor's sword-gripping hands, still failed, only producing a series of grating metallic scrapes and a few scraps of black cloth. Ernst was slightly surprised. His two weapons were top-grade even among Valyrian steel of their kind, able to cut through iron like mud and ignore most light armor. Being blocked by a thick breastplate was understandable, but how could they not even cut through a pair of ordinary armguards?
Could it be that his opponent was wearing Valyrian steel armguards? He had never heard of such a thing.
Distracted, he was nearly decapitated by Aegor. After narrowly parrying the longsword and rolling away, Ernst retreated outside Aegor's attack range, both considering his next attack strategy and waiting for assistance from his two subordinates.
...
Aegor did not know Ernst, but he knew that the man standing before him was the strongest and most dangerous opponent he had ever encountered in his life.
If not for the Dragonsteel Armor on his body perfectly fulfilling its duty as protection, he would have suffered two fatal injuries in those brief moments just now. He had only witnessed such astonishing martial skill when he sparred with the Red Viper, Oberyn Martell, in King Robert's camp back then.
Even Oberyn, who had held back, could make him sweat profusely. Ernst, coming at him with full force and intent to kill, naturally gave Aegor a greater sense of oppression.
And when an enemy whose skill completely overwhelmed his also lacked martial ethics...
Aegor, tense all over, stared intently at the two long daggers flashing with an eerie cold light, knowing that even a moment's distraction or a single unnecessary movement would cost him his life. He had no thought or energy to spare for the two men beside him aiming their military crossbows. "Thwack," "thwack," two crisp sounds rang out as two short crossbow bolts shot into his legs. The immense impact and pain nearly made his knees buckle, sending him to the ground.
Ernst charged forward again the instant he was hit by the bolts, this time targeting Aegor's unprotected head, face, and throat.
"Roar!" A nearly inaudible low growl surged from Aegor's throat. He found the feeling he had when fighting desperately against the White Walkers.
He was about to die!
He threw his longsword with all his might at the killer a few meters to his right, who was starting to reload his military crossbow. Without time to see whether he had hit the target, he raised his hands, bent his arms to protect his face, and adopted the classic boxing defense stance, completely entrusting his life to the armguard sections of the Dragonsteel Armor.
"Clang!"
"Clang!"
One after another, the grating sound of Valyrian steel scraping against Valyrian steel echoed through the street. Ernst launched a storm of continuous light dagger strikes within seconds. Aegor, holding his head, retreated back and forth like a small boat in a stormy sea, but the daggers never managed to cut even an inch of his skin.
Ernst took half a step back. While confirming that his opponent was indeed wearing Valyrian steel armguards, he realized he had just gotten carried away. He should have immediately changed his attack strategy after two unsuccessful strikes, but he had stubbornly struck the armguards a few more times, wasting a precious second.
Two thoughts entered his mind at that moment.
The first was that even if he killed Aegor today, he probably would not have time to strip off the Valyrian steel armguards as spoils.
The second was that, based on his extensive experience assassinating armored targets, there had to be a gap between the breastplate and the Valyrian steel armguards where a dagger could be inserted.
Half a second later, he raised his leg and kicked fiercely at Aegor's chest.
Ernst was an assassin, and his strength was not particularly outstanding. Normally, even if Aegor could not dodge in time, he should have been able to withstand the kick, take half a step back, and regain his balance, but now both his legs had been hit by crossbow bolts.
In intense pain, he lost his balance and fell backward onto his back. In the flash of lightning between trying desperately to ensure that his back, rather than his head, hit the ground, he still used his arms to firmly protect his throat and face, giving the killer no opportunity.
Ernst pounced on him, straddling him, raised both daggers high, and fiercely lunged toward Aegor's armpits, which were exposed because he was protecting his face with bent arms.
"Gritch."
The daggers finally no longer met hard resistance, but neither did Ernst get the familiar feeling of piercing through armor gaps and into the chest cavity. The dagger tips plunged deep into the metal rings connecting the armguards and breastplate of the armor Aegor was wearing. The impact was so great that it stretched and deformed the rings, but ultimately, it could not cut or break any of them. Only the very tips of the daggers penetrated, with most of the blades stuck outside.
That Ernst could determine Aegor was wearing Valyrian steel armguards in under ten seconds was already a rare and astonishing judgment. But he could not have dreamed that Aegor was actually wearing a full suit of Dragonsteel Armor. Every metal component of it was made of dragonsteel.
The assassin, eyes wide with surprise, finally vaguely realized the truth. What was preventing him from killing this man was likely a priceless treasure, one that could not be bought with all the wealth of the Iron Bank. Was such a treasure worth risking more time to strip from the target?
He could not make a decision immediately, and soon after, he no longer had the chance to choose.
The less than half a second of surprise, shock, and hesitation caused by the daggers failing to penetrate the target's armpit gave Aegor a fleeting opportunity to counterattack. The unarmed Hand of the Queen in black instantly seized the chance for survival brought by this momentary mistake and chose the safest strategy. He tightly grabbed the assassin's arms with both hands, endured the pain of his flesh being pierced, clamped the opponent's hands under his armpits, and stared intently into Ernst's eyes with bloodshot eyes.
Aegor really wanted to glare the killer to death with a furious look, and he also wanted to let out a roar and tear Ernst's arms off his body, but reason told him that "tearing the enemy apart" was just one of the illusions brought by boundless rage. The heat emanating from R'hllor's gift at most caused his adrenaline to surge wildly, increasing his strength by two or three times compared to usual, but it was absolutely impossible for him to turn into some legendary hero or transform into Superman.
After exchanging a glance, Aegor adopted the only counterattack strategy he could use at that moment.
A headbutt.
He suddenly curled his abdomen and sat up, striking Ernst's face with his forehead.
There was a crisp crack, and Ernst's nose broke instantly, blood spurting from his nostrils in a flash.
The assassin tried to dodge, but Aegor's hands clamped onto his arms like iron pincers, forcing him to remain mounted on top of him. He also tried to twist the daggers to use the pain to force Aegor to let go, but this only made the force of the second headbutt, which was coming at him, even greater. The target area of the second strike changed from his face to his mouth. Amid more cracking sounds, countless teeth left their sockets. The third strike was to the chin, the fourth to the cheekbone... Soon, Ernst's face looked as if it had been splashed with a bucket of red paint.
In fact, the assassin's only chance to escape at this point might have been to counterattack with a headbutt as well, hoping the other party would suffer a concussion and lose consciousness first. But facing a cornered beast fighting for its life in its death throes, who would have the courage to clash head-on?
After all, this was a hunt, not a suicide attack, and they were not in a duel.
"Pull... pull me!" Ernst shouted incoherently, his mouth full of blood, hoping his two subordinates could help him escape the danger.
Aegor was currently pinned to the ground and unable to move, making him an excellent target. No matter how formidable the Dragonsteel Armor was, it could not defend against shots to the head. However, one of the crossbow-wielding killers had been stabbed through the stomach by Aegor's incredibly powerful longsword throw and was now lying on the ground barely breathing. Although the other had finished reloading, he could not separate the two men wrestling on the ground. He swayed left and right with the military crossbow, and just as he finally managed to roughly aim at Aegor's head, a crisp shout suddenly came from the direction of the carriage.
"Hey!"
A petite red figure glared at the killer with wide green eyes. After making a strange gesture with her hand, she pointed at him. "Go to hell!"
The killer was startled. The intelligence did show that Aegor was accompanied by a tall and beautiful high-ranking priestess of the red god. Anyone slightly informed would certainly have heard of the terror and strangeness of these Red Priestesses. Although the little Red Priestess before him did not match the height and build described in the intelligence...
The crossbow-wielding killer had no time to think further. Driven by self-preservation, he turned his crossbow and shot a bolt at that flash of red.
Myrcella shrank her head back in fright. The crossbow bolt flew past, almost grazing her scalp. She quickly ran behind the carriage, hid behind cover, and picked up stones from the ground to continue harassing the killer.
The killer looked down at his body and saw that he was neither on fire nor bleeding. He immediately realized he might have been tricked, cursed, "Bitch," and looked back at his team leader. He saw that the leader had been flipped over and pinned to the ground, his two daggers gone, and their assassination target was sitting on top of him, swinging punches at his face. He hurriedly fumbled for another crossbow bolt...
He never got the chance to load this last crossbow bolt.
A massive dark shape descended from the sky with a fierce roar, plunging into the street without any grace or order, like an eagle swooping into a narrow ditch. Its two hind feet landed heavily on the ground not far behind Aegor, cracking the flagstones of the road. Its huge wings could not be folded and simply draped over the roofs of the houses on either side. Before it had even settled, Rhaegal's long neck had already swung down, biting the last standing assassin, man and crossbow alike, into its mouth.
...
Rhaegal was stuck between the two rows of houses, and every slight twist of its body brought scattered architectural debris crashing to the ground. Beneath the dragon's belly, the Hand of the Queen, his face, hands, and legs covered in blood, sat slumped on the ground as if drained of all strength. A shrunken version of a Red Priestess was kneeling beside him, frantically trying to deal with the two crossbow bolts stuck in his legs... And beside them lay an assassin on his back, his face unrecognizable, his features indistinguishable, with two gem-hilted daggers plunged straight into his chest.
This was the scene that the rear guard, who finally broke free from obstruction and rushed to the site a few minutes later, saw.
"My lord..."
"I'm not going to die!" Aegor waved his hand, interrupting the concerned question, and pointed toward the carriage. "Go drag Melisandre out!"
"Yes, but you..."
"Then wake her up. Slap her or splash cold water on her face, whatever you want, just wake her up as soon as possible!"
"Ah, what?"
"Tell her to use whatever damned magic she wants to immediately contact Priest Moqorro in King's Landing." Aegor took a breath before he had the strength to continue. "Notify the Queen, tell her about my assassination attempt, and have her immediately cancel all her schedule for the next few days, hide in the Unsullied camp, and not go anywhere!"
(To be continued.)