Chapter 146: The Tyrosh Siege, 9:00 AM

Everyone stared at Wright, their expressions frozen in place.

Since Wright's birth, magic had been present in Westeros for over a decade. Everyone in the room were nobles, and they had no doubt about the power of magic users, but they didn't believe anyone could take on thousands alone. Wizards were still human—they could starve, grow tired, and bleed. Magic was not infinite, and they were at sea—how was he supposed to swim over there?

Baristan spoke up, "Lord Wright must have his own plan. How many fast ships do we need to prepare?"

Wright replied, "No need to prepare anything. You continue the plan to attack Tyrosh as planned, and once I've dealt with the Purple Fleet, I'll be there to support you soon."

Aside from those who had participated in the Greyjoy Rebellion, most in the room had never seen Wright fight. At that time, Wright had only been in his teens, and they had only heard rumors—some exaggerated, some downplaying his abilities.

After arriving at the Stepstone Isles, Wright hadn't been active in combat, mostly guiding others during the battle.

Now, they were imagining what Wright, the Archmage of the Seven Kingdoms, would be like in battle.

King Robert also spoke up, "It's decided then!"

---

Time passed quickly, and all the warships from Bloodstone Port had left two days ago to join other fleets in the assault on Tyrosh. Only a few defensive units, along with Wright, remained.

The usually busy war room was now empty, with only Wright sitting in a chair, reading a book and eating chocolate, accompanied by a temporary port defense officer.

The officer's name was Hobber Redwyne. He had an unremarkable appearance, orange hair, and a square face covered in freckles. He also had a twin brother.

The Redwyne house's fleet was one of the main forces in the Reach, but Hobber's combat and command skills were so poor that he had earned the nickname Ser Slobber. Garland Tyrell had only left him behind to guard the port.

Hobber kept nervously glancing at the golden pocket watch in his hands. His expression was more tense than Wright's.

"Lord Wright, it's 8:00 AM," Hobber said.

Wright looked up at him and handed him an apple. "It's still early. Have some fruit."

Hobber, still anxious, took the apple. "Shouldn't we help you put on your armor? It'll take some time."

"Alright. This armor has a lot of buckles in the back. I can't quite reach them myself."

Hobber called in several soldiers, and they began to carefully put Wright's armor on him, fastening the buckles and straps.

The armor was one of the family heirlooms of House Baratheon. Every noble house had many sets of armor, and this one had once been worn by Robert during his rebellion. Made of white steel, it was decorated with green patterns and featured a stag antler helmet.

Once the armor was on, Hobber had nothing else to do, so he went to check the port's defenses.

Wright resumed reading, but after a while, Hobber and several soldiers returned, "Lord Wright, it's 9:00 AM!"

"Alright, it's time."

Clang~~~

Wright stood up, the sound of his armor echoing in the room. This was the first time he wore armor in battle, and it had been forced upon him by Robert. If he didn't wear it, the attack strategy would remain unchanged.

Hobber saw Wright get up and, along with several soldiers, rushed to help adjust the armor's gaps and buckles. Wright, looking uncomfortable, quickly explained,

"I know, but I really don't need all this."

They tightened the armor's fittings, and Wright put on the stag-horned helmet, feeling suffocated, as if he were a rat in a can.

Hobber ran to the door and struggled to bring over the two-handed greatsword from its sheath.

"Lord Wright, this sword is too heavy!"

Wright took the sword with one hand, swung it twice, and then strapped the scabbard to his body.

"You need to exercise more. If that doesn't help, at least run a couple of laps around your yard every day."

Hobber chuckled, "Haha, Lord Wright, you're still joking at a time like this."

"Time's up, Hobber, the port is in your hands!" Wright said, quickly walking out of the hall, his footsteps echoing with each step.

"Understood, Lord Wright!"

Hobber and the soldiers watched as Wright, nearly two meters tall with the stag-horned helmet and the heavy armor, moved swiftly, carrying the massive sword on his back. They were all filled with envy, knowing that they, the old and weak, had little hope of keeping up.

Wright called upon his skeletal steed, Awack, and mounted it, riding southward.

He crossed several ridges and small rivers, finding that the previously established blockade had been lifted, leaving only a row of wooden fences. Though only a skeleton now, Awack carried Wright in his full armor and effortlessly jumped over the fence.

The air began to carry a sulfuric scent, and after crossing several valleys, Wright finally spotted the massive figure of Odahviing, now standing.

"Dragonborn, you're late!"

"Did you see that? It took me some time to get this armor on," Wright replied, pointing to his green-plated armor.

"You shell-covered worm!" Odahviing retorted.

Wright didn't respond, instead calling out, "Have you eaten your fill and gotten bored, or are you ready to fight today?"

"Do not doubt a dragon's yearning for the sky, nor its excitement for battle."

The white hand of the mage extended and grabbed the dragon's horn, pulling back, and Wright swiftly jumped onto Odahviing's head.

Odahviing's size made it difficult for Wright to fight from the dragon's back, unlike the Targaryens, who fought from the sky entirely reliant on their dragons. Wright, however, could still cast magic himself, and his sword, Bloody Scars, could attack from a distance. Thus, he had to find a location that provided a good view for battle.

"Odahviing, take off!"

The massive wings unfolded, and the dragon's powerful legs pushed it forward, propelling its enormous body toward the skies.

As Odahviing soared into the air, the nearby trees were bent and blown aside by the force of the wind. The dragon took flight, sending a storm that scattered 750 sheep into a pile of dung.

Hobber Redwyne and the soldiers left behind were scattered around the port, chatting in small groups. Suddenly, a massive beast appeared from the mountain ridge, flying over Bloodstone Port.

Instinctively, everyone ducked and covered their heads, not daring to make a sound.

As they watched the enormous figure that seemed to block out the sky, they had no doubt that a single dragon claw could easily pick up a ship. It wasn't until the dragon flew off and disappeared into the distance that they dared to speak.

"A dragon!"

"A red-and-white dragon!"

"There's someone standing on the dragon's head!"

Hobber Redwyne also spotted the figure on the dragon's head. The stag-horned armor was the same one he had helped Wright put on.

"The person on the dragon's head is Wright Baratheon!"

"What?!"