A Western fantasy journey that began with Game of Thrones

The sound of shouting and horse hooves hitting the ground filled the whole world. The strong shield strike with a bloody smell was like a heavy hammer that hit his tall and fragile nose bone with a bang.

A strong sour feeling suddenly emerged, but was quickly replaced by severe pain.

This was not the end of the disaster.

The huge force of the collision made him fall off the horse involuntarily, but because of a stirrup tied on his calf, he did not completely get rid of the maroon warhorse under him, but was dragged headfirst by the violent warhorse at a high speed.

The fully armed body drooped upside down on the side of the galloping horse, and the head with a steel half helmet rolled and wailed on the wet mud. The turbid mud smell was slightly hazy because of the damage to the nose. The eyes were also painful and could not be opened. He only felt that more than a dozen riders swarmed by his side. They might be enemies, but they might be his own people.

He thought so, and the next moment he had no time to care about it.

A faint swooshing sound was heard, and then the horse fell!

Along with the whimpering and wailing of the horse, and the huge force brought by the heavy object falling to the ground, his legs were quickly squeezed and twisted, and finally broke from the middle with a click like chopsticks.

The hysterical scream of pain stopped before it was born in his throat. Under the roar of collapse, the light chain mail on the chestnut warhorse collided violently with his silver mail mail. The fierce force came, and a whole row of ribs was broken. His breathing was dull because of the coverage of the giant, and at the same time, it was intermittent because of the broken neck.

Everything in front of him quickly became extremely dark, weapons clashed, the black three-headed dragon flag fluttered in the wind, the rumble of the riders galloping past, screaming, laughing, howling, roaring, begging for mercy...

Everything was stripped away from the battlefield. At this time, only pain was his real enemy, cheeks, neck, heart, whole body, the pain everywhere, crazy, sharp, cruel, unbearable...

He lost!

It was unclear when the terrifying enemy was defeated, but as the darkness was lifted, as the world changed from chaos to silence, as a sleeping little boy in the tower bedroom screamed and sat up from the feather bed and gasped, the result of failure was self-evident.

…

The footsteps sounded from outside the room, followed by a knock on the door: "Young Master Renly, are you okay?"

The voice sounded muffled through the door.

"It's okay, it's just a nightmare!"

The suppressed hoarse voice responded to the servant, but it seemed to persuade himself.

Unfortunately, the words were normal because of deliberate control, but as long as you look down, you can find that his pair of white hands and two arms that were grasping the silver-gray quilt were shaking and twitching uncontrollably.

The servant outside the door obviously couldn't see this, so the sound of thumping was born again and quickly faded away.

The boy called Renly didn't pay much attention to this, but kept looking down at his hands in front of him. The beautiful blue eyes still had the pain from the "nightmare", but with a strange change, his hands and the heart that trembled with them quickly calmed down.

[Racial level: LV1]

...

It seemed to float past his eyes, but it seemed to be just a special enlightenment. When this information was captured by his brain, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fake, yes, all fake! I'm still alive, I wasn't crushed to death by my own horse, and I'm not an adult knight..."

Muttering, he felt it carefully. The surging pain not long ago really disappeared, and only the illusion left in his memory was still bothering him.

But it wasn't real.

He comforted himself silently, but turned his head to the bedside table beside him uncertainly.

On the low bedside table made of old oak were several decorative scarlet garnets and moonstones, a half-melted white wax candle, and a silver-plated round mirror from Myr across the narrow sea.

As he watched, a delicate child's face was reflected in the clear mirror of the round mirror. He was only about four or five years old, with black hair and blue eyes. He looked at him quietly, and his bloodshot eyes were full of scrutiny.

Another piece of information emerged.

[Heraldry LV6], [Language LV1], [Etiquette LV1]

...

There was no such data-based ability in the dream, so he completely put his mind at ease, and everything that was ignored around him quickly emerged.

This was a quiet and petite bedroom with dim light. The heavy brown door was less than two meters away from the bed. The fireplace with accumulated black ash was quietly embedded in the wall opposite the bed, only one leg away from the end of the bed. On the blank space above it were several exquisitely crafted light golden brocades. The surface of the satin was embroidered with the crown and stag symbol of the Baratheon family and some of the family's past achievements.

The Baratheon family was an ancient and honorable family, one of the eight great feudal nobles of the Targaryen Dynasty, so it was not difficult to imagine how exaggerated the paintings on the brocade were.

But Renly did not keep his eyes on it for long. After a glance, he moved his eyes to the narrow window on the left.

A beam of sunlight shone from the glass of the window, slender and bright, illuminating a nearby floor, but also covering a floating dust that was invisible to the naked eye.

At this time, he was inside the towering tower of his family's Storm's End, so high that he could see only a hazy sky beyond the light except for the sunlight.

But a strange fragrance was wafting in from the window. It was strange, like the scent of books formed by the blending of ink and parchment, but it also had a faint smell of burning.

So Renly lifted the silver silk quilt, put on the shoes on the floor beside the feather bed, and walked towards the window in a thin black velvet pajamas.

Sparse and trivial sounds continued to sound as he walked. It was the rush mat on the floor that was causing trouble. Usually Renly always disliked that this thing was too noisy when walking, but at this time he had basically ignored it and focused all his attention on his goal.

The window embedded in the wall was not low, and he was not tall enough to reach it, so he moved a long bench nearby and climbed up, and then pushed the narrow square window open.

With a creaking sound, the breeze that was blocked outside blew in through the window, the sound of seagulls, the salty sea breeze blew up his short charcoal-black hair, and the coldness brought by the wind caused goose bumps on his fair arms.

Looking across the courtyard under the tower and a forest of sacred trees, the morning mist covered the sea outside the city wall, blurring the vast ocean scene.

Farther away, the hazy shadows of ships slowly rippled in the depths of the fog, not just one or two, but dozens or even hundreds.

They were in neat formation, surrounding the seaside castle on the towering cliff from the sea, looking like a group of black knights quietly hidden in the fog, riding their horses with high spirits, aiming their spears at the enemy, and waiting for the horn to sound before launching a charge - the target was the Wind's End Castle.

The head of the Baratheon family, Robert Baratheon, his eldest brother, had previously launched a rebellion against the royal Targaryen family. As a result, they were hit hard by their good neighbors to the west, the Tyrell family, the lords of the Reach, who were loyal to the royal family, and were forced to leave their own territory and disappear without a trace. The family's Storm's End was also besieged by the soldiers of the Reach.

However, they have been besieging for more than half a year, but there is still no movement. Maester Cressen, who taught Renly, claimed that Storm's End had never been captured for thousands of years. The Tyrell family obviously knew this, so they only besieged but did not attack, hoping that the supplies in the castle would run out and starve them to death.

Renly was not sure whether this statement was correct or not, and he was not interested in delving into it, because if nothing unexpected happened, the castle would stand firm until the last moment, until Robert Baratheon smashed the heir of the Targaryen dynasty to death with a hammer and successfully usurped the Iron Throne.

Of course, he was not sure about this. Although this was a familiar world, no one could guarantee whether it would develop according to the plot in his memory...

The tower was tall, but due to the location of the bedroom, Renly could only see the seaside at this time, and there was nothing to see there.

So he shifted his gaze.

There were faint shouts of soldiers behind the tower. It might be daily training, or someone might be giving a speech. He stretched his neck and looked down. There were two figures talking face to face in the courtyard at the root of the building.

The distance was too far to hear any words. Due to the height, they looked like two small ants, one black and one gray, not very noticeable.

However, Renly could clearly identify who they were.

Maester Cressen of Storm's End, and the coach Gavin Wilde.

Maester Cressen taught him some necessary knowledge for the noble children every day, and it was not long before the teaching time. But Renly's blue eyes were looking at the coach of Storm's End standing opposite the maester.

The smell that smelled like books but also a bit burnt came from this person. The distance was too far, so it was actually difficult to identify at the moment, but the smell had already existed.

As the third son of the Baratheon family, although he was still young, sometimes Renly needed to eat in the same hall with the coach, so he was very sure of this.

So the question is, would a normal person emit such a strong, special fragrance that transcends such a high level?

Or is it abnormal, is it really Coach Wilder?

Leaning against the window, he raised his hand and touched his nose, as if the sourness and pain still existed.

The boy pursed his lips.

He didn't know how he entered this very cruel world in his impression, and he was reincarnated as a Baratheon. Many things before becoming Renly were also quite vague, but the abnormality was obvious at the moment.

The inexplicable fragrance, the unique "data" that emerged faintly as he looked at it, and most importantly-

This was not the first time he had that kind of "dream".

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