Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Chapter 256: Sky Dyed in Blood

The afterglow of the setting sun scattered across the fields.

Everything in sight was tinged with a golden light. On the nearby stream, patches of golden light floated, rising and falling with the current, drifting downstream, like a simple, joyful, and tireless game.

The messenger from Golden Grove leaned alone against an apple tree, gazing at the beautiful scenery under the red sun, and decided to rest here.

The messenger was bleeding.

He could not walk any further, nor did he want to.

It was a pity he could not deliver the plea for help from Golden Grove, he thought with regret.

What would happen to Golden Grove?

He actually had a premonition in his heart. After all, he had seen it that day as well.

Without any warning, a massive army suddenly appeared from the south of the Mander River. The marching army formed a long, endless line, holding aloft hundreds of golden rose banners.

The army of Highgarden, the liege lord of Golden Grove, had not sent any ravens or messengers beforehand to inform them.

Golden Grove continued to observe.

Beneath the golden rose banners, thousands of infantrymen lined up along the east bank of the Mander River, advancing steadily. The cavalrymen gradually emerged from the formation, breaking away from the main force, stepping over the soft grass and wheat fields, and charging towards Golden Grove.

Just looking at the formation, one could tell that the newcomers were not friendly.

Golden Grove quickly reacted. They sent guards out of the city to negotiate with the army, while nervously gathering manpower to prepare for any sudden situation.

But this little preparation was clearly not enough.

If the army outside the city truly came with malicious intent, then whether Golden Grove was carefully defended or had its gates wide open, it would have no impact on the outcome.

After all, only a mere two hundred guards remained within Golden Grove, and the vast majority of House Rowan's forces had been taken by Lord Matthos to Goldengrove to defend against the Lannister lions from the west.

To the enemy, Golden Grove was almost an empty city ripe for the picking.

People could only pray that the army from the south was a friendly reinforcement, a genuine House Tyrell, and not a fake disguised with golden rose banners.

The prayer was half answered.

The golden rose banner was real. The leader of the vanguard cavalry had a familiar face: the heir of Highgarden, Willas Tyrell.

Although it was unclear what had happened to his lame leg, allowing him to ride a steed as nimbly as a normal person, there was no mistaking that face. Willas Tyrell had no reason to be an enemy of Golden Grove.

However, regrettably, this assumption was quickly shattered.

The negotiating team was actually captured and detained on the spot by Willas's men! A knight struggled desperately, finally breaking free from the encirclement and running towards the city gate, only to be shot and killed by the cavalrymen with crossbow bolts!

Golden Grove immediately blew the horn, closed the city gate, and raised the drawbridge.

The maester's tower also quickly released flocks of ravens, carrying urgent messages to all directions. Some letters expressed accusations and confusion about the current situation, while others expressed pleas for help or surrender.

Then.

On the orders of Lady Bethany Redwyne, the messenger took the plea for help and left the city through the west gate, which was about to close, crossed the arched bridge, stepped onto the west bank of the Mander River, and headed towards Goldengrove further west.

Lord Matthos would know everything here and lead his troops back to reinforce them.

The messenger knew the importance of the matter.

He dared not delay for even a moment, driving his mount at full speed, so fast that the cavalry behind him gave up the chase.

Before running completely out of sight, the messenger took one last look back.

Golden Grove was already completely surrounded by golden rose banners. The long line of infantrymen from the south gradually gathered outside the castle, like cream on a cake, wrapping layer upon layer, tightly sealing the center, leaving not a single gap.

There was no way Golden Grove could hold out on its own.

The messenger was very clear.

Regardless of Highgarden's true intentions, he had to deliver the message to Lord Matthos, who was stationed at Goldengrove, as quickly as possible.

No later than four days, the sooner the better.

The messenger's plan was good. He spared no effort, rushing at full speed towards Coldmoat, the seat of House Webber, estimating that it would take only one day. Then, he would change horses there and head straight for Goldengrove. If nothing unexpected happened, he would be able to deliver the message to Lord Matthos in just over two days.

However, unfortunately, the plan encountered heavy resistance in the very first step.

The messenger had only traveled west for an hour when he saw red-helmeted, red-robed cavalrymen in the peach orchard beside the road. Lannisters.

They had also spotted him.

A fierce chase ensued. The messenger galloped ahead, with the Lannister cavalrymen in hot pursuit.

He turned into a small path, and the cavalrymen followed.

He went left for a while, then right for a while, and the cavalrymen did the same.

Seeing the danger getting closer and closer, he rushed into the forest, wholeheartedly throwing himself into the thrilling activity of dodging rows of trees and obstacles and holes under the horses' hooves.

After who knows how long, suddenly the world opened up, and the messenger and his mount stepped onto a gentle grassland, bathed in bright sunlight. He gasped for breath.

All around was quiet. Only then did he realize that he had shaken off the pursuers behind him.

But he was also lost.

Fortunately, after one night, he encountered a rather lively town.

He did not relax his vigilance, searching for possible enemies while asking the people in the town for directions.

But people told him that Goldengrove had already fallen, Renly had failed, and now there were Lannister soldiers everywhere, and this town was no exception.

In addition to being shocked and disbelieving, he also smelled a strong sense of danger and was about to mount his horse and leave immediately.

But the cavalrymen in the town had already arrived, having heard the news.

Good luck did not favor him this time.

Although he drove his horse to accelerate a step ahead, the random crossbow bolts behind him injured him, and the horse's butt was also hit by an arrow.

He fled in panic, and the cavalrymen did not pursue him any further.

Subsequent events proved that the cavalrymen's choice was correct. Injured, he could no longer complete his mission, and could not even go far.

The mount, agitated by pain and fatigue, threw off its master, and he had to walk with difficulty.

The further west he went, the slower his pace became.

A crossbow bolt was deeply embedded in his body from the back. Although it did not injure his internal organs, it caused him to bleed non-stop, and his head was dizzy. Another crossbow bolt pierced his left forearm, greatly delaying his actions, and there was also a risk of suppuration.

He, who could only wander in the wilderness, had no way to treat himself.

He cut off the arrow shaft with a heavy heart.

Then, the only thing he could do was wait for death, and hope for a miracle that was almost impossible to happen.

Ha.

The miracle did not appear after all.

He leaned against the rough tree trunk, only feeling more and more weak and powerless, and his vision gradually blurred.

The stream gurgled, as if urging him to sleep.

Gusts of breeze blew, but made him feel as if he was sometimes submerged in a world of ice and snow, and sometimes wrapped in the heat of a stove.

He sniffed.

The air was full of the sweetness of apples on the trees and the fragrance of green grass. In normal times, he would have to eat four or five apples.

But he could no longer waste the energy to get up and pick them.

At most, he could reach out and take out the letter from his arms.

He had not read the contents of the letter, but at this point, it did not matter.

He relaxed his body and leaned closer to the tree trunk.

After his vision was raised, there seemed to be a streak of blood on the sky of fiery clouds.

Is it an illusion?

He blinked. It was still the same.

That wisp of blood started from the northwest, drawing a long tail towards the southeast, brighter than any star.

A miracle, perhaps...

He lowered his arm, without any further movement, only his eyes reflecting the comet moving in the sky, and the almost stagnant leaking blood flow.

For a long time.

A bright butterfly fluttered over and landed on his palm, repeatedly licking the bloodstains.

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