Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

"Bruce, have we escaped?"

The knight, his voice hoarse, leaned against the jagged cliff face, gazing blankly at the western sea, murmuring the question to his companion.

The west coast of Cape Marseille had been ravaged into desolation by the two thousand cavalrymen under their command.

Not to mention the seaside villages and towns, even the fishermen on the boats had long since gone to the safer north to make a living; the sea was empty, not even half a boat could be seen.

For a fleeing defeated army, such a beach seemed to be the best route.

The deserted beach was concealed enough to allow them to stay away from the remaining people on Cape Marseille, avoiding making any noise that would startle the “hunters”.

Moreover, they had lost all their supplies.

If they didn't want to spend their time hunting and gathering fruit, collecting food in the ruins, giving the “hunters” time to catch up with them, the answer seemed to be only one thing—the beach.

The tide would bring many shells and small fish, and for them, who were on the road all day long, the seafood they saw was enough to fill their stomachs.

The only problem was fresh water.

There would be some puddles of accumulated fresh water behind the rocks and mud flats, but for them, with hundreds of people, it was just a drop of water poured on a bonfire, disappearing without a trace with a "sizzle", and the flames were still hot and thirsty.

Without enough fresh water, they would die of thirst before they could get out of Cape Marseille.

Everyone knew that.

But to go deep inland for this, risking approaching those small rivers and lakes?

Anyone with a sane mind also understood that the guards of Sharp Point City and Stone Dance City, the hundreds of monsters that suddenly appeared, these “hunters” would definitely stare at every water source, waiting for them to walk into the trap.

Fortunately, this was only the third day they had fled south, and the situation had not yet become serious enough to cause disputes, looting, or even fratricide.

Fortunately, it rained heavily yesterday.

The powerful raindrops hit every inch of their skin, and everyone looked up to the sky, moistening their chapped lips, letting the raindrops fall directly into their open mouths.

Finally, everyone filled every tool that could store water, showing a rare smile.

If they were lucky enough, they would be granted several heavy rains one after another, enough to replenish fresh water, but not so heavy that the sea level would rise, or even a storm would occur.

But even so, the rain was not all beautiful and kind.

More than twenty companions had already fallen on the road. Some had wound infections, some had high fevers, and some simply fell headlong while walking.

Obviously, the rain had bestowed hope, but it had also given a test.

Only those with the strongest will and the strongest bodies could possibly go south all the way, pass through Cape Marseille, cross the border of the Royal Territory, and return to their homeland in the Stormlands.

This would take at least half a month.

After all, they had been defeated too thoroughly, with only their armor and weapons with them, no horses to ride, and no rations to sustain their lives.

It is no exaggeration to say that their current situation is even worse than those refugees whose villages and towns have been destroyed.

You know, in order to allow as many refugees as possible to go to King's Landing to be a burden, they gave each refugee two weeks of rations and other basic supplies.

And those monsters that destroyed the entire camp had not considered what they needed on their escape route.

For three days, they lacked food and fresh water, endured the scorching sun and cold dark nights, and experienced wind and rain, monsters chasing after them, and the continuous death of their companions.

How far have they gone?

Have they escaped the hunting range of those monsters?

The knight lowered his head, staring blankly at the black sleeping lion on his breastplate.

“Let sleeping lions lie,” the Grandison family of Gulltown had always taken this as their motto, expressing the peaceful meaning of the sleeping lion, while deterring foreign enemies who dared to invade.

The sleeping lion was already so powerful, how dare anyone wake it?

But on that night three days ago, the flame monster that suddenly appeared launched a night attack, waking the sleeping lion from its slumber.

What was the result?

Amidst the raging fire, steel, and roars and howls that did not sound like those of humans, Norbert Grandison woke up suddenly from his bed, and then confirmed the reality, someone was attacking!

Where did the people come from?

The sentries had no warning at all?!

Norbert Grandison immediately woke up his servants, and while hurrying to put on his armor, he pondered the strangeness of it all with a face full of disbelief.

By the order of the earls, their two thousand cavalrymen would go north all the way to Sharp Point City at the northernmost tip of Cape Marseille, destroying all the villages and towns along the way, so that everyone would have no one to rely on and flee to King's Landing.

The mission had been going very smoothly.

They did not waste their energy on hard-to-crack castles, but only took care of the villages and towns.

The scattered knights and guards of the various lords could only shrink inside the city walls and stare blankly. Once they dared to come out to resist, the only ending would be to be beheaded or captured.

By this night, they had cleared most of Cape Marseille, leaving only a small area around Sharp Point City in the north. The land there was even more barren, and the population was probably only a few thousand or tens of thousands.

The mission was about to be completed successfully, and the guards of Stone Dance City and Sharp Point City were still cowering in the city and dared not move.

Even so, they still acted cautiously.

Norbert himself, Ser Bruce Buckler of Bronzegate, Ser Hart Fell of Fellwood, and Ser Roland Storm of Nightsong each led a team.

But since entering the territory of Cape Marseille, their four teams had gathered in one place every time they camped.

This time was no exception.

A full two thousand cavalrymen were stationed together in the nameless town between Sharp Point City and Stone Dance City. The scouts sent to various places had all returned safely, reporting that everything was normal, and there were also sentries and patrol teams taking turns on duty at night.

With such careful and thorough arrangements, how could they be quietly attacked at night?

Norbert couldn't figure it out.

But when he walked out of the door, everything he saw in front of him made him feel like he was in a nightmare.

Endless flames were roaring, dancing, and flying.

People were burning, horses were burning.

Weapons, houses, and even the ground were covered with layers of fire.

The air was as hot as being in a steamer, and the field of vision was as bright as broad daylight under the scorching sun, but it was red.

How could the flames be so thick?

This must be a nightmare, right?

A gust of whirlwind blew past, and the hot but humid air rushed towards Norbert's face, making him even more convinced that he was in a dream.

How could the flames in reality be so humid?

But the shouts and battle scenes from all directions still made his heart beat faster, and he couldn't help but tighten the long sword in his hand.

"Drop your weapons and surrender, and you will not be killed!"

Norbert turned around abruptly, the owner of the voice was shouting in another direction.

Good opportunity! Norbert approached quickly and lightly.

But he soon stopped. The silver-white cloak behind that person was embroidered with a golden hexagram, but it was undamaged, as if it had just been washed.

As expected, it's a dream!

Norbert was hesitating whether to continue approaching.

The man took out a ball from the bag around his waist and threw it into the distance.

Boom!

The ball shattered, flesh and blood splashed, and a layer of white mist slowly covered the air.

Then, the man turned around.

He saw him.

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