Chapter 664: The Battle of Skyreach City

The wheels of history do not halt for any single event.

As King's Landing took the historically significant step toward the Determination to Rebuild Valyria, the distant battlefields of Skyreach City in Dorne were ablaze with war.

"Charge!"

The royal army soldiers were launching a fierce assault on this 'Heaven-Adjacent City,' situated at the end of an ancient road, just past the Prince's Pass.

Skyreach City was dubbed the 'Heaven-Adjacent City' due to its elevated location, which was easily defensible but challenging to assail. Below lay a terrain of jagged strange rocks, devoid of any proper path or leveled land. Siege engines like trebuchets and battering rams could hardly be deployed, necessitating soldiers to rely on their flesh and blood, hoisting up ladders to initiate their attack on the walls.

"Charge!"

A Dornish youth named Caron, clad in lightweight leather armor and cloaked in the colors of House Connington from Griffin's Roost, led a group of archers. They unleashed a volley of arrows toward the walls of Skyreach City, suppressing the archers above.

Caron, the village's most talented hunter, saw no difference between hunting men and animals, and perhaps found humans even less agile, their movements clumsy like large brown bears.

With brown hair flowing, the young man drew his bow, eye narrowing as he aimed at a soldier of House Fowler peering from behind a merlon. Releasing his fingers, the bowstring twanged.

Thud—

The arrow, swift, accurate, and brutal, burrowed into the Fowler soldier's eye socket.

"Ahh—"

A piercing scream ensued, as the man toppled from the wall, knocking a half-ascended royal army soldier from his ladder. Both tumbled down the wall, becoming nearly lifeless upon impact.

Beneath the walls of Skyreach City lay barren, extremely hard strange rocks, some even adorned with sharp points, ensuring that a fall from the wall resulted in either death or severe injury.

After Caron, leading fifty warriors, traversed the Red Mountains, endured numerous hardships, successfully ambushed Prince's Pass, and inflicted a significant defeat upon House Fowler's soldiers, he was personally knighted by the Hand of the King, Jon Connington.

For his merits, Caron was dubbed a knight of the Stormlands, destined to possess his own land and title upon return.

Yet, at this moment, he was fighting side-by-side with his comrades, assaulting Skyreach City, avenging his father, mother, and brother.

"Die!"

The brown-haired youth, taking cover behind a boulder, plucked another arrow from his quiver. Drawing the bow and releasing the arrow, he claimed another Fowler soldier's life with an arrow fueled by vengeful fury.

"Die—"

Caron's archery skills were astonishing. His arrows, brimming with vengeful wrath, cleansed with the blood of his enemies.

The scene of war was intensely fervent. Not long after the fall of Prince's Pass, the Old Falcon, leading only a few soldiers, had retreated to Skyreach City. Subsequently, utilizing the geographic advantage of the city and the few soldiers, a tenacious resistance was put up.

However, at this juncture, a retreat horn echoed from behind the royal army.

It turned out that an army, brandishing the banner of House Uller from Hellholt along with more banners of Dornish nobility, had arrived. They launched an attack on the royal army, and Jon Connington, as the supreme commander, was compelled to sound the horn, ordering the troops to halt the assault on Skyreach City and retreat to the camp.

"Reinforcements for Skyreach City have arrived."

"It seems House Fowler has many 'friends.'"

The middle-aged man with grey-red hair sat astride his warhorse, the badge of the Hand of the King faintly reflecting the sunlight upon his chest, his expression stoic, unflustered.

"Have they lost their minds?"

"Daring to oppose the Iron Throne?"

A general from the Second Legion from the continent of Essos, a Lorathi, queried with perplexity.

He did not regard these Dornishmen as his kin, for they were the Rhoynish people who, led by Princess Nymeria, had crossed the Narrow Sea to flee to Dorne a thousand years ago. This involved a plethora of ancient grudges of the Old Kingdom of Lorath, which needed no elaboration.

In the Lorathi general's eyes, the 'Prince' was an absolute entity. Yet these people dared to rebel against their 'Prince,' especially when they evidently could not win. He could not comprehend.

"There's nothing incomprehensible."

"They are Dornish."

"If you can fathom the thoughts of the Dornish, you become one of them."

Jon Connington sat atop his warhorse, voice cold, revealing his disdain for the Dornish.

Although he and Oberyn were considered good friends, it did not affect his negative perception of the Dornish.

This was also understandable, for Jon Connington was a nobleman of the Stormlands, and his fief before being stripped of his title by the Mad King was Griffin's Roost. How could a Stormlands noble possibly harbor goodwill toward the Dornish, the centuries-old mortal enemies?

"Perhaps they've been pampered with too many privileges in the past few years and have forgotten who their sovereign is."

"Or perhaps defeating dragons hundreds of years ago has given them too much confidence."

After Princess Rhaenys came of age, Jon Connington had repeatedly advocated for Viserys to marry her, declaring it the King's 'duty.'

He did not explicitly say against whom, only stating it was the tradition of House Targaryen, and the Valyrian dragonlords.

If they learned from the history of the previous dynasties, to maintain the orthodox lineage of the royal family, a prince with pure blood must ascend to the throne, not one of mixed blood.

Jon Connington did not express it overtly, but the insightful knew he was vehemently promoting the new queen to join the harem, aiming to replace and balance the position of Queen Arianne from Dorne.

And Oberyn, clear-headed, initially intended to oppose but after contemplation chose to observe coldly from the sidelines, privately advising his old friend not to delve too deep.

Because the power struggle within the royal palace was often exceptionally cruel and bloodless.

And even if Viserys married Rhaenys, the young queen still carried half of the Dornish bloodline, so Dorne's interests remained unharmed.

Unfortunately, Jon Connington did not heed Oberyn's sincere advice.

"It's time."

Then, gazing at the army in the distance, fluttering the banners of Hellholt and more Dornish nobility, Jon Connington murmured.