A Song of Ice and Fire: Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon

It was under these circumstances that Viserys, on the last day of the old century, rode his dragon back to King's Landing.

Tomorrow would be the first day of the new century, the year 300 AL and 8 NL. However, it was not a promising start to the century. Human civilization was shrouded in darkness, its future uncertain and difficult to predict.

If humanity could not replicate the glory of their ancestors and once again triumph over the darkness, they would likely perish in this endless Long Night.

It was with this dream of saving humanity that leaders and representatives from all factions of the western world—the Sealord of Braavos, the Magisters and three Princes of Lorath, the Magister-Monk of Norvos, the Red Priests of Qohor, the Triarchs of Volantis, envoys from the Kingdom of Sarnor, the Kingdom of Omber, the 'Forest Walkers' of Ifequevron, representatives of the Dothraki, and the Magisters and Archons of the Three Daughters: Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh—gathered in the rebuilt capital of the Valyrian Empire from across the Narrow Sea in Essos to convene the ultimate meeting to save the world and discuss the future of humanity.

This meeting was momentous enough to be recorded in history books with great emphasis. The usually stagnant state of King's Landing had come alive.

The main reason was the sudden influx of so many foreigners in the city. The City Watch maintained order on the streets, and news of such a grand event had already leaked out.

People had high hopes for this meeting, as uniting to defeat the darkness was everyone's desire. In the face of survival, all past conflicts could be temporarily set aside for unity and cooperation.

However, the progress of the negotiations was not smooth, mainly due to the unclear division of obligations and responsibilities that each faction needed to bear.

For example, the wood-walkers of Ifequevron, whose race and nation were on the brink of extinction, as the lands occupied by the White Walkers had surrounded their homes, could only rely on the forests to barely contend with them.

Similarly, the Sarnori of the Kingdom of Sarnor and the kings and nobles of the Omber Peninsula were also in the same situation. Their nations and races were on the verge of extinction, and they were at a point where they had to fight for their lives.

However, for the distant Volantenes, they had not yet seen the imminent danger. Although the consequences of not controlling the situation could be foreseen, Volantis was still too far from the White Walkers, just as Dorne's attitude towards the White Walker invasion during the first war between humans and White Walkers.

The Volantenes, as the mistresses of the Summer Sea and one of the overlords of Essos, were only willing to take on a very small responsibility, sending a small number of troops to participate in the fighting and unwilling to provide food.

In fact, armies could be dispatched, but no one was willing to contribute food. After all, if the Long Night continued, these soldiers would all die sooner or later, but food was truly something that diminished with each bite. Many of those present had plans to dig a cellar and survive the entire Long Night.

Therefore, the inability to unify the responsibilities and obligations of each power naturally led to endless arguments.

Braavos, on the other hand, had a long-term vision. The Sealord of Braavos, the Keyholder of the Iron Bank, and others could recognize the consequences of not being able to stop the White Walkers' advance.

But people still had their own agendas. When asked to send out the invincible fleet to attack Ibben from the sea and cut off the White Walkers' retreat, these Braavosi shook their heads faster than a rattle drum.

However, the problem was in front of them and needed to be solved. The wood-walker envoy from Ifequevron, his face filled with anger, finally couldn't bear it any longer. He slammed the table, stood up, and shouted.

"Enough!"

"Everyone! While we argue here, our enemies are constantly growing stronger!"

The wood-walkers were one of the most miserable nations after the White Walkers landed from Ibben this time, second only to the Ibbenese.

Ibben had been destroyed, turning into a living hell, and the Nefer became the last of the Ibbenese. They didn't think of uniting to resist the White Walkers' invasion and reclaim their homeland but instead fled towards the Bone Mountains, hoping that the eastern world held the hope for the continuation of their race.

The wood-walkers, on the other hand, did not flee. They chose to fight the invaders to the death. Now, the wood-walker territory was surrounded by the White Walkers. They could only rely on magic to contend with them in the forests, facing the danger of annihilation at any moment.

Therefore, the envoy from Ifequevron was naturally anxious and couldn't help but slam the table and shout.

However, the wood-walker envoy's words did have some effect. The human supreme council was held in the throne room of the Red Keep. The envoys, magisters, and princes of various nations and city-states were seated in chairs below. Instantly, the room quieted down considerably.

The Ifequevron were known as 'Forest Envoys' because they lived in the forests like the children of the forest and were said to possess forest magic.

However, the wood-walkers and the children of the forest in Westeros were two similar but not identical races. They were short in stature but slightly taller than the children of the forest. Their arms and cheeks had wrinkles resembling tree bark, and they had green eyes and wore leaves on their bodies.

"That's right," the Sealord of Braavos calmed down and turned to look at the representatives of the many nations and city-states present. "While we argue here, the White Walkers are constantly devouring innocent lives to strengthen themselves."

All those who had been arguing with flushed faces and thick necks had now calmed down, but they were still unwilling to give up their interests and pay a higher price.

At this moment, in the throne room of the Red Keep, several stone pillars burned with fire, emitting light and heat. Unsullied soldiers with icy expressions guarded this palace that had witnessed many historical stories.

The protagonist of this human supreme council, the young founding Emperor of the Valyrian Empire, sat on the hideous throne in the center of the palace. His figure swayed slightly in the firelight, and the throne beneath him emitted a metallic sheen.

The young man with silver-gold hair and a handsome face wore a Valyrian steel crown, the red gem in the center radiating warmth. At this moment, his pair of pale purple eyes were looking down at the chaos that had just unfolded below.

"To defeat the Long Night," Viserys spoke, his voice echoing in the vast throne room, "everyone must unite, or it will be the path to death."

Below, the princes, magisters, wood-walker envoys from Ifequevron, the Sealord of Braavos, and others from numerous nations and city-states fell silent in an instant. Not a single person made a sound, and some even couldn't help but take a deep breath and sit up straight.

"We are the light of all civilized worlds."

"If even we lose, the entire world will be beyond saving!"

"Even if we flee to the Summer Isles to eke out an existence..."

On the other side, not far from Viserys, in a corner, a maester from the Citadel was hurriedly transcribing something, his heart surging with excitement, not missing a single word Viserys had said.

Because he knew that at this moment, he was witnessing the birth of history.