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The flow of time outside was not particularly fast, but Viserys had already undergone round after round of combat trials within the Dragon Tamer.
There is a world within the mirror, where time passes unnoticed.
Viserys had never seen such a wealthy and grand display of dragon warfare; perhaps only the House Targaryen before Aegon's Conquest had witnessed such things. All fear stems from a lack of firepower.
The House Targaryen's Dance of the Dragons involved roughly twenty dragons, including Stormcloud, Moondancer, Morghul—young dragons the size of horses—and semi-mature dragons like Vermax and Tessarion filling the ranks.
Ordinary dragons do not grow as rapidly as those touched by the red comet.
Yet the Valyrian great wars of conquest that Viserys witnessed involved dozens, even hundreds of adult dragons deployed together, with no small dragons like Stormcloud among them.
Valyria did not lack adult dragons and would not resort to the desperate measure of sending hatchlings into battle to be slaughtered.
The power of a hundred dragons deployed in unison was simply incomparable.
Combat! Exhilarating!
Viserys felt this was the pure aesthetics of violence. The essence of war was firepower—crushing, overwhelming firepower.
The dragons roared and breathed fire without pause; when the dragons unleashed their fury, it was thunderous.
This also demonstrated the magical foundation of Valyria at its peak. It was difficult for any other nation to muster hundreds of sorcerers to oppose Valyria; in this world, only dragons were truly unrivaled war machines.
Even Water Sorcerers lacked the aggression and lethality of dragons, Fire Mages, and blood sorcerers.
The people of Valyria were arrogant and cruel; those who resisted often saw their armies and city-states alike wiped off the face of the earth.
In the final battle between Valyria and the Ghiss Empire, the enraged Dragonlords crushed the Ghiss legions, and Dragonflame burned Ghiss and its pyramids into dust.
After the fall of Ghiss, the Valyrians sowed every inch of its land with salt, sulfur, and dry bones, ensuring no survivors would ever return.
What left the deepest impression on Viserys were those key, decisive battles.
The five total victories of the Valyrians against the Ghiscari Empire at the dawn of creation, the battle where a hundred dragons burned to death the Andal warlord "The Great" Kor Lon who had unified the Lorath islands outside Norvos (as seen in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire), and the battle where three hundred dragons crushed the rhoynar coalition led by Prince Gaelin at the Rhoyne River.
In Ghiss, Norvos, and along the banks of the Rhoyne River, Viserys witnessed one powerful army after another destroyed by Dragonflame, causing ancient kingdoms to collapse.
The Ghiss Empire's black-armored infantry legions, marching in unison with sword and shield—this training was the predecessor to the Unsullied, and today, New Ghiss is attempting to train Iron Legions.
The Andal heavy cavalry and infantry, mounted on tall horses and clad in full iron armor, were fanatically devoted under the banner of the seven-pointed star, only to die in a steaming heap of gore.
Then there were the agile and slender rhoynar princes and princesses, wearing silver scale armor and fish-shaped helmets, wielding spears and turtle-shell shields, their long hair flowing in the wind, along with their equally proud and devout Water Sorcerers.
Dragons became a litmus test for a strong nation; the more that were deployed, the stronger the enemy, though none of these opponents could escape death.
In terms of combat scope, the Ghiscari, Andals, and Rhoynar were all considered formidable enemies.
Viserys observed the dragons in combat, the battle patterns of the enemy armies, and the battle patterns of the Valyrian armies.
These dragon battles greatly expanded Viserys's horizons and experience: how to attack from high altitudes, how to maintain protection at ultra-low altitudes, how to utilize his own Fire Magic, and how to deploy troops to counter different military formations.
However, the Valyrians' victories still stemmed from their superiority in firepower, magic, and equipment; they were simply too ferocious in war.
Along the Rhoyne River, the plains of Ghiss, the mountains of Norvos, deserts, and the open sea—dragons were essentially adapted to all battlefield environments.
Except for the Heart of Winter, a place dragons were unwilling to go.
Beyond war, Viserys also personally experienced scenes of hunting and Dragon Rider duels.
The hunting scenes were diverse: dragons soaring over the summits of the Fourteen Flames of Valyria, killing the giant Firewyrms that occasionally burst from the surface.
Viserys piloted a dragon in Sothoryos, the dragon roaring as it killed wyverns and giant serpents.
Viserys also flew over the vast ocean, killing whales and the giant sea monsters that occasionally surfaced.
What Viserys was certain of was that the scenes of dragon hunting rarely included Westeros, at most only Dragonstone.
It seemed that Westeros, as a forbidden land, had been studied by the Dragonlords as a "place where the gods dwell" that could not be encroached upon. Otherwise, the Lannister family's gold mines, famous throughout the world, would have been plundered long ago.
Then there were the competitions between Dragonlords. The Valyrians were heavily influenced by the Ghiscari; they adopted slavery and had a strong preference for arenas.
In the high towers of Valyria, Dragonlords from different families would occasionally duel in the Dragonlord arenas, wagering their beloved possessions, such as magical gems or pieces of Valyrian equipment.
Viserys was also in the high towers, dueling Dragonlords from other families.
Both sides would pit their dragons' speed or the dragons' attack power against each other.
There were dragons with strange bodies and tails that were as fast as bloodworms. There were also golden, shimmering dragons with immensely powerful fire.
Those dragons trained with binding spells were indeed more intelligent than those trained with whips; it felt like they were from a different dimension.
Viserys piloted a purple-gold dragon, parrying left and right, and managed to take on various opponents in the Dragonlord arena.
In the end, the glass surface of the Dragon Tamer ceased to ripple with light, signaling the end of the trial.
Viserys was no longer the Viserys of the past; in those few moments, he had truly witnessed the changing of the ages.
Viserys put down the glass mirror. Not much time had passed outside, but he had already experienced verdant flames of war within the mirror.
"Although Sunfire is a hatchling, my fragments of mental incantations and the experience from the Dragon Tamer ensure that this surprise attack will be foolproof."
Viserys changed into a silver robe, strapped the True Dragon Sword to his waist, and strode out of the Kings Tower.
The construction of the dragon nest forged for Sunfire was still underway in full swing, so Sunfire had temporarily dug a burrow outside the Kings Tower and was lying inside.
There were numerous guards, both open and hidden, protecting the dragon.
"Wake up, young man." Viserys looked at Sunfire. Sunfire had been eating and drinking to its heart's content in Viserysburg, and scattered cow and sheep bones lay inside the pit.
Sunfire flapped its wings and took flight, the leathery wings making a sound like a thunderclap as they beat the air.
Sunfire's lava-like eyes stared at Viserys, sensing that the Dragon Rider had undergone new changes.
Viserys cut his finger, red blood flowing out, followed by flames rising from his fingertips.
"Fire, Sunfire!" Viserys commanded.
Sunfire roughly perceived Viserys's command and chose to trust its companion.
The gold-red Dragonflame turned into a tiny, intense flame, tangling with the golden flame flying from Viserys's fingertips.
Viserys chanted the ancient incantation, "Blood is fire, fire is blood. By my blood, I summon the blood of the dragon. By my fire, I summon the fire of the dragon. Blood to blood, fire to fire..."
"I am Viserys Targaryen, and my blood is enough to tame all the dragons in the world. We are partners, friends, travelers... I, Viserys of the House Targaryen, sign a mental pact with my dragon, Sunfire. An eternal pact, a mental pact."
The two flames slowly fused together in the air, changing with the incantations and gestures, in the ancient Valyrian language.
Then Viserys gathered this cluster of flames and absorbed them.
The pact between human and dragon, the pact of blood and fire, was complete.
Viserys had only mastered this introductory level. If binding spells were several major chapters, Viserys had only grasped the mental incantation, but this was already enough.
Like a chain, Viserys perceived Sunfire's inner heart.
Aloof, cunning, greedy, ferocious...
This was a wild golden dragon that stood proudly in the Valyrian Ruins, hatched thanks to the slow rise of magic.
In some aspects, Viserys felt that he and Sunfire were connected.
Sunfire's arena was the Valyrian Ruins, while the arena Viserys participated in was the game of power—equally bloody and cruel.
Even more powerful, even more evil.
Glory is at the heights; glory is power itself.
Sunfire's furnace-like eyes looked at Viserys; they were friends, with the mental pact as their bond.
"Sunfire, fly!" Viserys called out the dragon's name. The dragon had already perceived this summons; their thoughts were one, as if moving an arm or a finger.
Sunfire's figure soared high into the sky, like a boat untethered.
Even if the dragon was domesticated, a certain amount of hunting was necessary to maintain the dragon's combat effectiveness.
Viserys took the dragon and flew up, soaring together over the vast Andals hills to hunt for food.
At the very least, before the war, there were many more things they needed to become familiar with.
At the foot of the mountain of Viserysburg, a strange group appeared—a small squad of mercenaries carrying banners.
The Ragged Prince looked at the magnificent White City before him. Judging by the scale and population of the city, this little king seemed qualified to negotiate a deal with him.
The Ragged Prince had silver-gray hair and wore silver-gray armor, but his ragged, tattered cloak was sewn together from many different colored fabrics—blue, gray, purple, red, gold, green, magenta, vermilion, and sky blue—all faded from years of exposure to the wind and sun.
Few people knew his real name; they only knew he came from the wealthy city of Pentos and was fleeing to escape his fate.
In the Windblown Company, even the commander would not reveal his real name. Many existing free mercenary companies were born in the century filled with blood and chaos after the Valyrian the Doom, while even more were fickle and could disband at any time. The Windblown Company fell somewhere in between.
"This place is not bad," said the warrior poet, a subordinate of The Ragged Prince.
"It is not bad, but we are here for another round of haggling, and I hope my new patron will offer me satisfactory terms."
The Prince spoke in a soft, gentle voice, his eyes filled with sorrow and melancholy.