Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

"Lay down your weapons, surrender and you will not be killed."

"Lay down your weapons, surrender and you will not be killed."

"..."

The loud voice repeated over and over, as if tireless.

This voice was the nightmare of everyone in the entire contingent.

The Stormlands soldiers who had been resting in the shade on the beach all sprang up, instinctively rushing forward.

No one thought they should try to resist.

But their steps quickly slowed dramatically, until they froze in place or even collapsed, as if they had fallen into a swamp made of sand and stones.

The reality was more terrifying than being trapped in a swamp.

On the road ahead stood demonic figures, with fiery red armor and silver-white cloaks.

The soldiers who had not completely despaired slowly retreated, observing their surroundings nervously and quickly. There were also dozens of monsters behind the contingent, and figures were scattered on the rocks and slopes to the east, forming a sparse encirclement.

Sparse, yet unbreakable, with no gaps.

"We still couldn't escape," Nabert Grandison sighed.

Somehow, he felt a little relieved, as if a heavy stone he had been carrying all along had been lifted, and the predetermined future he would eventually face had arrived.

Bruce Buckler, who was beside him, finally spoke, "How much do you think we're worth?"

Nabert Grandison glanced at him in surprise. This fellow had always been taciturn and resolute in action, yet now he was actually considering surrendering?!

How could he not know his own worth?

Nabert knew that a healthy knight commander from House Buckler could reasonably fetch a ransom of one or two hundred Gold Dragons.

As for the other knights and cavalry...

Those with family backgrounds would likely be safe, while those who couldn't afford the price of freedom would be entirely at the mercy of the enemy.

Compared to them, Nabert and Bruce were fortunate.

They were closely guarded by the Lannister men, spending their days on horseback, in secret rooms, or in dungeons, waiting for the exchange of prisoners to begin, or for the ransom from His Majesty Renly and their families to arrive.

At least it was a better outcome than death.

Moreover, they had already done their best to serve His Majesty. Even if they failed in the end, they should preserve the dignity of their families and face it calmly.

Nabert Grandison stood silently.

If they surrendered, could they truly wait for the day of prisoner exchange?

When would the war end?

Recalling the scalding white steam on the night of the night raid, Nabert Grandison had a vague premonition that the day he returned to his family and reunited with his parents, wife, and children would be unexpectedly early, or late.

"Bruce, Nabert, everyone."

Nabert looked up, and a familiar pockmarked face appeared behind the Lannister soldiers.

Roland Storm shouted loudly, "Please stop the futile fight. We have indeed failed, but not due to cowardice or arrogance. This is not our shame."

"In the name of warriors, brave fighters who fought hard should accept life or death, victory or defeat, with a smile."

"I have received the promise of the Earl Tarth, and I swear by my honor, Roland Storm, that every warrior who lays down their Swords and gives up resistance will be properly settled, their lives safe, and they will not be insulted."

"That's right, I guarantee it on my honor." A red-armored Warrior took off his helmet, revealing golden-red long hair and a handsome face.

Nabert saw the purple forked lightning Sigil on the star pinned to his breastplate.

The Earl of Blackhaven, Beric Dondarrion.

Beric Dondarrion was not nervous at all. From the moment he set off from King's Landing, he knew his mission would surely be accomplished.

The only difference was the extent of their own casualties.

To ensure that not one of the two hundred Holy War Army sent to him by King Joffrey was lost, Beric Dondarrion worked hard to remain humble and steady.

He didn't go directly to the target.

Instead, he chose to travel by ship to Tide Island north of Massey's Hook, where he contacted the Dragonstone fleet to prepare the battle plan.

The intelligence provided by the Security Bureau was always detailed, accurate, and timely.

Beric Dondarrion quickly discovered a good opportunity to attack and immediately led his team by warship to land on the west coast of Massey's Hook, 20 kilometers south of Sharp Point.

This was the closest location on the west coast to the rebel camp.

Without stopping for a moment, all the Holy War Army marched on foot, recovering their strength with the help of the Priests, moving quietly along the way, avoiding scouts and eliminating outposts based on the Security Bureau's intelligence.

In less than half a day, they approached the unsuspecting rebel camp.

It was late at night then.

The Ruins of this devastated small town had fallen silent, with only a few patrolling soldiers wandering around.

With the help of the Divine Grace Light Screen, the two hundred Holy War Army communicated with each other, dispersed according to plan, forming a neat encirclement, and then took out the "Water Drop" tied to their waists.

The "Water Drop" was a portable weapon designed by the Logistics Bureau specifically for the Holy Fire Warriors.

It was spherical, with horizontal and vertical stripes carved into its steel shell, making it look somewhat like a peeled pomegranate. It could be held tightly or thrown with one hand.

The sealed steel shell was filled with a sphere of clear water.

When in use, a Holy Fire Warrior only needed to infuse it with the power of fire. After one or two breaths, steam would instantly erupt, the steel would shatter, and high-temperature water mist would spread everywhere. Within a radius of ten paces, it would instantly turn into hell.

After using it once, all the Holy Fire Warriors praised the Water Drop.

Before this, their power of fire could only be stored in their bodies for a long time. Once it left their bodies, it would instantly turn into fire and high temperature.

The power of fire was limited.

If they absolutely had to use a large-scale or dragon-shaped flame to kill enemies far away, the consumption would be too great to support the entire battle.

Because of this, close combat was still the Holy Fire Warrior's first option.

Now.

The Water Drop just made up for this deficiency of the Holy Fire Warriors.

Although they didn't know how the Water Drop delayed the eruption of the power of fire, this did not prevent the Holy Fire Warriors from using it to achieve a perfect victory.

After everyone was in position, Beric Dondarrion issued the command.

Throw! Throw! Throw!

Every Holy Fire Warrior threw three "Water Drops" within half a breath.

The town's patrol hadn't even reacted.

Continuous explosions and roars drowned out all other sounds. Fragments, high temperature, and white and light red water mist swept through everything.

Beric Dondarrion led the charge, and two hundred Holy War Army attacked simultaneously.

Stables, supplies, barracks.

The Holy Fire Warriors ran straight towards their targets, unleashing flames to destroy the rebels' reliance for counterattack.

The Holy Shield Warriors charged through the enemy ranks, making no defense, only focusing on cutting down the enemies in front of them. As a result, they were unharmed, while others were either killed or injured.

A few Priests and Sorcerers were responsible for assisting their teammates and did not actively kill enemies.

But if anyone dared to provoke them, the fleeting wounds and twisted, deformed earth, stone, and steel were enough to make them doubt the reality of the world.

The Night Raid plan was successfully completed.

Half of the two thousand rebels were either killed or surrendered, and the other half who fled had no horses or rations, and even abandoned their armor and weapons, throwing away their Swords.

Next was the mop-up.

Compared to the scattered defeated Soldiers in the interior, this large group of defeated Soldiers on the west coast was easier to pursue, so they were left for last.

Originally, they could have been made to suffer for a few more days, but there was no time.

Before sunset today, Stone Dance City.

Calculating the journey, Beric Dondarrion urged, "Have you considered it? Leave your life to witness the future, or silently sleep at the bottom of the sea?"

Nabert and Bruce exchanged glances.

They threw their Swords onto the beach.

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