The red-and-white giant dragon burst out of the thick smoke. Standing atop the dragon's head, holding onto its horns, was Wright, his face covered in tears.
Taking several deep breaths of fresh air, Wright removed his helmet and wiped the tears from his face. "Odahviing, northeast direction," he said.
Odahviing made a wide turn in the air and flew to the spot Wright had indicated. The searing dragonfire erupted once more, creating a long wall of flames along the mountaintop.
The smoke from the burning fresh trees was overwhelmingly pungent, and the nearby mountains were set alight. Thick smoke spread with the wind, and Wright and the dragon had no choice but to push through the stinging eyes and dive back into the smoke.
During his morning patrol, Wright had discovered a group of vampires. After leaping down from the sky and invisibly entering the camp, he managed to capture a lower-tier vampire. But before he could extract any useful information, it struggled and accidentally died. Annoyed, he went for a second vampire, but his movements made noise, and the humans in the camp heard them. They shouted and woke everyone, including the vampires.
Vampires need rest too. When they sleep, their awareness falls into a deep slumber, and their bodily responses nearly vanish. This is when other vampires or humans are needed to guard them.
Wright held a vampire by the neck and waited as they encircled him.
There were dozens of vampires, all dressed in elegant clothing and adorned with jewelry. The humans, numbering two or three hundred, wore tattered robes. They had given their clothing and jewelry to the vampires.
Wright had once thought the humans were captives, but now he realized they had betrayed their own kind and become the vampires' servants.
"Traitors!" Wright shouted angrily, but none of the humans showed any remorse. In fact, they stood tall.
"You must be Wright the Archmage. There are many non-human races on the continent—giants, children of the forest. We are a wise race from beyond the Wall, here for peace. Look, we live harmoniously with humans," said a tall, graceful, and extremely beautiful vampire woman. As she spoke, she walked toward Wright, opening her robe slightly, revealing her flawless, snowy white body.
"Wright the Archmage, perhaps there's been a misunderstanding. Please release our kin first. We can talk things over."
The woman was about the same height as Wright and walked to within ten centimeters of him. She noticed Wright's gaze scanning her body and smiled in satisfaction. She leaned in closer, opening her blood-red lips, releasing a sweet fragrance as she spoke: "Wright the Archmage, I could battle with you for a week, but if you don't like me, I have other sisters."
Wright remained silent. He raised his left hand, still holding the vampire by the neck, allowing the captive to stand. His right hand slowly slid around the beautiful vampire's waist, caressing her firm, smooth back through her robe.
"I'll just call you Wright, little Wright. Do you want to start now? It's fine; we don't mind. It's a perfect chance to show them your strength." The alluring vampire teased, licking her lips as she moved in even closer, her expression full of seduction.
"I'm not little!" Wright calmly replied.
"Not little? We'll see," the alluring vampire smirked, twisting her waist to press Wright's right hand closer.
Wright turned his head and saw the vampires around him laughing, while the male humans' faces were filled with jealousy, and the women's faces with deSere.
Wright smiled, and with a sudden force, he pulled the beautiful woman into his arms.
"Ha~~" The woman began to scream in pain, her sharp voice echoing through the mountain. Along with her screams came the sound of sizzling, like hot iron searing flesh, accompanied by rising blue smoke. Wright held her tightly, his heated dragonbone armor pressing against her bare body. The Valyrian steel of his armor, besides the dragonbone, was also a metal that suppressed vampires.
Her limbs thrashed, her fists pounding at Wright. Boom! A spell was hurled at Wright, exploding on the surface of his dragonbone armor. Wright remained unmoving, while the vampire's hands and body were injured by the blast of her own magic.
Wright pressed his helmet against the woman's head and whispered in her ear: "The well-prepared lines, along with your seductive magic. If I didn't know your kind so well, you would've truly caught me off guard today!"
"Please, let me go!" the woman begged, her voice trembling in agony.
Her clothes had already been torn, and Wright's arms around her waist felt like steel, not loosening despite her desperate struggles. Ignoring her pleas, Wright held her tighter, the scent of burning flesh filling the air.
"Quick! Save the master!"
"Kill him!"
Just as it seemed Wright might join their ranks, now he was holding a beautiful human body in his arms and attacking. The situation reversed too quickly. The vampires, realizing what was happening, began preparing to fight, and the humans drew their weapons, glaring at Wright with hostility.
Wright's left hand tightened, his grip on the vampire's neck turning into a fist. The vampire's head fell, and the limp body, along with the decapitated head rolling to the side, began to self-ignite.
The vampire in Wright's arms was to be interrogated later. She had been the first to step forward. From the way she behaved, it was clear she held some influence here and knew a lot. As for the other vampires, not a single one would be spared. The traitors among the humans, even if captured, would be sentenced to death—he would eliminate them all at once.
A shrieking wind blade, sharp ice spikes, explosive fireballs, and dancing lightning strikes tore through the crowd. Clad in his dragonbone armor, Wright, carrying the white-skinned vampire, moved through the camp like a human cannon. Small spells constantly shot from his raised left hand.
The vampires' spells either missed, were blocked by magical shields, or were absorbed and turned back on them by more powerful magic Wright released.
They couldn't win, let alone save anyone. Escape became the first priority for the vampires.
As Wright watched the vampires scatter, each of them using magic to float quickly over the jagged rocky terrain, some leaping off cliffs to hide in the valleys, he soon lost track of their movements. The terrain here was difficult to navigate, and chasing one was easy, but once it was the second or third, crossing a canyon or scaling a mountain peak became necessary.
Wright stood still, releasing his grip on the vampire. He gently tossed her body into the air, catching her once more, this time holding her around the waist instead of the back. Her front was scorched, the sizzling sound now gone, and Wright turned her over.
Suddenly, the giant dragon swooped down from the clouds, its golden-red flame spraying onto a nearby mountain peak. Thick smoke billowed upward, the fiery explosion lighting up the sky, and dark smoke blew swiftly toward Wright's direction.
Wright began to run, holding the vampire. His steps felt weightless, effortlessly leaping from stone to stone. The vampire's body was tossed around with each step. He soon reached the edge of a cliff.
The vampire, now unable to resist, hung limply in his arms, her legs twisted in weakness, her upper body dangling with her arms and long hair also dragging on the ground. Wright knew she was not dead—vampires burned upon death. He extended his right leg and pulled her back to sit on his thigh.
A sizzling sound echoed once more.
In the distance, after finishing a few more sprays of dragon flame, Odahviing sensed Wright's magical link and quickly flew toward him.
Wright seized the moment, using a powerful leap to grab hold of the dragon's horn. As Odahviing twisted its enormous neck, its sharp teeth aimed directly at Wright.
In mid-air, Wright didn't have time to dodge, not sensing any intention from the dragon to attack. A thundering crash resounded as the dragon's fangs closed in front of Wright. Wright, however, managed to use his magical hand to grip the dragon's nostrils. When the dragon's neck snapped back, Wright landed on its head.
"Odahviing! What are you doing?" Wright roared, his right hand holding the vampire, her white body now burning from the waist down, little sparks of flame appearing.
"Dragonborn, never try to put this monster over my head!" Odahviing's deep, growling voice came through.
Wright slapped the dragon's horn with the back of his hand armor, exasperated. "This was the only one I managed to keep alive! Can you hold off for just a moment? Let me finish interrogating her, then I'll kill her!"
"Principle! It cannot be broken!"
"Fine, they've scattered. I can't chase them, but you can burn this mountain range!"
Having ruined his own plans, Wright ordered Odahviing to unleash the flames. Let the dragon burn itself out; he wasn't in the mood for fresh meat anyway. If the dragon got hungry, it could go find something to eat.
The rocky mountains were riddled with stone caves, and when the dragon's flames rained down, many vampires dove into the caves to hide. However, it did them no good. The heat from Odahviing's fire could melt steel. The rocks would turn into molten lava, which would either flood into the caves through cracks or melt the entire cave, trapping the vampires in burning stone.
While Odahviing was busy setting the mountains on fire, Wright opened a pouch on his belt, taking the burning lower leg of the vampire and placing it into the bag. With magic-enhanced hands, he slowly ground the ashes, the blue-white powder gradually filling the pouch. Vampire ashes could be used to craft high-level mana potions, so nothing could go to waste, even in death.
As Wright filled the pouch, he thought back to the bits of information he had gleaned from previous interrogations. The vampires and wights had pooled their powers, and through the Wall's defenses, only six vampires had crossed. The northern Mountain of the Moon were one of their locations. One male vampire had arrived and, after infiltrating a wildling tribe to breed descendants, began spreading into the Riverlands. He frequently vanished for periods of time, and none of his descendants knew where he went. The others speculated that he had met up with the other five vampires.
Recently, they received an order to search for the Chosen One! The blood of the Chosen One could destroy the magical array embedded within the Wall.
Wright was unsure about the truth of the matter. Although he had heard about the Son twice, he still found it too absurd to believe—one Son being able to destroy the magical barrier of the Wall that stretched over a thousand kilometers seemed as ridiculous as an ant killing an elephant. Wright was convinced that this was likely a smokescreen released by the vampires to hide their true intentions.
---
Two days later, outside the camp of the Western Army, Qyburn and the knights who had climbed the mountain with Jaime returned to the camp, but Jaime had not yet come back. They had received orders to return first, and it seemed Jaime had found the target of their mission.
Addam Marbrand stood anxiously at the camp's entrance, pacing back and forth, visibly agitated.
As they delved deeper into the Mountain of the Moon, his mind grew increasingly conflicted. If Jaime found their son with Cersei, then the three of them would each have their own families on the surface but would continue to live together in secret. If he couldn't bring him back, however, Jaime and Cersei's bond would be broken, and their feelings would gradually fade. Tywin would pressure Jaime to marry and have children, and then Addam could be with Cersei, perhaps even convincing Tywin to marry her to him under another name.
Once the heart wavers, a demon appears. Addam hoped that Jaime wouldn't find their son. In fact, he wished for something to happen to Jaime—maybe a fall off the cliff that would sever any thoughts Cersei had for him. But then he thought of Jaime, his lifelong friend and Cersei's brother, and he became even more conflicted.
"Ser Jaime has returned!"
Soldiers were about to approach, but Jaime waved them off, signaling them to keep their distance, ignoring the calls of his relatives, Qyburn, and Addam. He walked alone, head down, into his tent.
"Something's wrong!" Qyburn, always observant of bodies, noted with suspicion.
Addam hurried over to Qyburn, his voice low with concern. "Maester Qyburn, what did you find? Is Jaime not well?"
Qyburn held the small orb he used to detect vampires. It hadn't lit up, which made Addam worry that Jaime had encountered vampires.
Seeing Addam's nervous expression, Qyburn finally spoke plainly. "Jaime's alive, but I saw that both of his gauntlets were neatly sliced open at the wrists. He couldn't hide it with his cloak, and I noticed it when he waved to the others."
"What!?" Addam was shocked. If the gauntlets had been sliced at the wrist, his hands must have been severed. But Jaime had waved earlier—his hands had looked fine. Addam quickly realized, "He must have taken the healing potion Wright gave him to reattach his hands!"
"You're close with him, so go check his tent. Jaime's our commander, and if he's not well, it'll affect the whole team. We're always on the verge of vampire attacks," Qyburn said, stroking his long white beard, his voice sounding very wise.
"Understood! I'll report back if there's any issue, Master Qyburn," Addam said, giving a noble bow before rushing toward Jaime's tent.
The guards outside had been sent away by Jaime, and Addam pulled back the tent flap to find Jaime sitting at a small table. His gauntlets were laid out in front of him, and he stared at the two gauntlets that had been cut into four pieces. He didn't even notice Addam's entrance.
"Jaime!" Addam crouched in front of him.
"Jaime!" He repeated, a bit louder.
"I'm fine!" Jaime finally responded, as Addam gently nudged him.
"Your gauntlets are cut off. What happened?" Addam asked, pointing at the table.
Jaime didn't answer at first, slowly lifting his hands and placing them on the table. Addam saw the healed scars on his wrists. Two neat scars circled his wrists below the joint—Jaime's hands had indeed been severed, and then reattached using the potion.
"Who did this?" Addam asked, his eyes shifting to the empty scabbard leaning against the small table. "Where's your sword? The Sun's Maiden, where is it?"
The Valyrian steel sword, bought for four hundred thousand gold dragons, wouldn't just be abandoned on the mountain.
Jaime still didn't speak. His head lowered, his forehead pressed against the table. He was avoiding the reality, unwilling to face what had happened.
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