Arthur took a yellow banner from his aide and waved it toward the Rhoynar soldiers fighting him.
Then he raised the Prince's Spear and shouted in Valyrian with a Rhoynar accent, "The Prince's Spear is here! All men obey the command!"
The cavalry fighting beside him echoed the call loudly.
Some of them had already noticed the danger around Viserys. Rushing back now meant saving the king, which guaranteed generous rewards.
They quickly opened their faceplates and shouted in clumsy, Rhoynar-accented Valyrian:
"The Prince's Spear is here! All men obey the command!"
Marcus and Clement squeezed every breath of air from their lungs. Their voices were so thunderous that the surrounding fighters fell silent for a heartbeat.
The strain came at a cost—blood pooled in their mouths, and they doubted they could ever shout so loudly again.
"The Prince's Spear is here! All men obey the command!"
"The Prince's Spear is here! All men obey the command!"
The other guards tore at their throats as well, shouting like this one call was the purpose of their entire lives.
Among the Rhoynar fighting Arthur were officers planted there by Lothan.
The moment they saw the yellow sunburst banner, they ordered their troops to open a path.
One Rhoynar soldier, however, seemed to lose control. But the loss of one or two lives was tolerable now.
The charging cavalry trampled straight over him.
At that moment, the mercenaries fighting Viserys felt the ground tremble with a growing rumble. The sound rolled toward them like thunder.
They glanced back and saw white cloaks and silver armor, with a knight raising a blue spear.
Before Arthur reached them, Yigo had not fought nor fled.
But when he saw Arthur, for a fleeting moment, he felt the Dawn Sword Knight's figure overlap with the Warrior of the Seven.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
Panic twisted Vargo's face. He shouted desperately while sprinting toward his horse.
The mercenaries saw their commander suddenly abandon the fight—then saw the cavalry storming toward them.
"You useless bastard! How did they break through the Rhoynar without you reporting it?!" Vargo lashed a guard across the face with his whip.
A red welt crawled up the man's cheek like a blood-red centipede.
"The... Rhoynar let them through! They let them go!" The mercenary stammered, but Vargo understood instantly.
He looked at the vast fields filled with Rhoynar and Targaryen soldiers and shuddered.
It felt like ice shards were poured under his armor.
Enemies, enemies, enemies.
The entire battlefield was a trap for him.
He looked again and saw Yigo's Dothraki cavalry surrounded by Targaryen and Rhoynar forces.
Behind Oberyn too, yellow sunburst banners were waving.
Yigo howled in fury, desperately trying to break out, but Oberyn blocked his path like an unmovable wall.
"Come on then! Let me see what you're truly capable of, you savage!" Oberyn taunted, spear raised.
The Dothraki wore no armor at all.
Oberyn felt that even if he won, it would hardly be honorable—but this savage had clearly earned his place as a commander.
Yigo screamed and charged with his curved blade.
Oberyn's spear was far longer than Yigo's weapon. He expected an easy advantage.
But Yigo simply rolled along the horse's back, dodging the strike with effortless acrobatics. When they turned their mounts again, Oberyn saw a new cut on his armor.
Those impossible stunts on horseback pressed heavily on his nerves.
Yigo reared back and raised his curved blade high like a beast baring its fangs. He dug his heels hard into his horse.
The animal surged toward Oberyn at full speed.
Oberyn, frozen for a heartbeat, did not move.
With less than ten meters left, he threw aside his spear and drew two ready-loaded crossbows.
Two quick shots.
The bolts punched through Yigo's chest. He toppled from his saddle like a sack of meat.
Vargo saw Yigo fall and felt ice fill his stomach.
He mounted his horse, abandoning all thoughts of others.
Mercenaries were merchants of violence and chaos. Their reputation differed little from brigands.
They shared no loyalty. Honor meant nothing to them.
But when Vargo kicked at his horse, the animal felt weak, like it hadn't eaten for days. Then he saw Yigo's horse—slow, stumbling, barely able to move.
Right there, a panicked, crying Yigo tried to flee but his mount barely trotted.
Arthur arrived like a white lightning bolt. His spear plunged forward, lifting Yigo high before smashing him under the hooves.
The force threw Yigo upward again. He flipped twice before crashing to the ground.
He still had a flicker of awareness, but before he could recover, Arthur's horse stomped on his groin. The scream drowned beneath the thunder of hooves.
Vargo saw everything—and then smelled something foul.
He looked down.
The area where they had kept their horses was covered in fresh droppings. Then he saw the foam at the horses' mouths.
Someone had tampered with the mounts.... And only one man had the opportunity to do so.
Vargo felt something twist violently at the back of his skull. The world spun. He felt like a fish dragged into a whirlpool.
One moment his men had surrounded Viserys. The next, Arthur's cavalry shattered their formation.
They tried to flee but were quickly encircled by the advancing infantry.
Once they realized even their commander was running, their will to fight vanished instantly. There was no point in dying. No honor to die for.
Those who saw escape was impossible dropped their weapons and fell to their knees almost immediately.
So fast it was as if the steel in their hands had suddenly turned burning hot.
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