Game of Thrones: I became a crown prince for a day.

Chapter 686 I am Aemon Targaryen!

A deep voice sounded, startling him.

As soon as Aemon lowered his head, the black-haired burly man stared at him with burning eyes.

Seeing him looking at him, the black-haired man's eyes flashed with annoyance, and he said in a deep voice: "If you disturb my sleep again, I will break your ass."

Aemon looked at the other sleeping slaves, squatted down and said calmly: "No, you like women."

“There are no women here.”

The black-haired burly man licked the corner of his mouth and smiled maliciously.

"Let's talk?"

Imon didn't want to engage in useless nonsense and took the initiative to show his sincerity.

Passed over a...half a leftover potato.

The black-haired burly man glanced at him and said disdainfully: "Are you sending away homeless people?"

After saying that, he took the potato with the tooth marks on it and started chewing it.

It's time to eat and talk.

Yimon understood the thoughts of the lower class the best, and lowered his voice: "Do you want freedom?"

When he was in Tyrosh, he often hung out in the slums.

The other party's temperament and martial arts are like a down-and-out hired knight.

The black-haired sturdy man seemed to have heard a joke and said contemptuously: "With you?"

Smart people don't waste their words.

"I have some little skills that are not very good."

Aemon raised an eyebrow, revealing the shackles around his ankles.

He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a twisted fork.

It was made of iron and was conveniently hidden from the dining table in the lounge area.

Click!

The tip of the fork was inserted into the keyhole and turned, and the shackles opened with a click.

Aemon looked at the other person, took off the shackles and shook them.

As if to say, see?
The black-haired burly man sat up straight and said strangely, "I have some tricks."

The Colosseum was a well-known slave organization, and the shackles and shackles worn by the slaves were all carefully made.

Ordinary thieves and petty thieves simply cannot pry open the lock.

Aemon put the shackles back on and said seriously, "Help me out, and I can get you all out."

It is no secret that there is a dragon under the Great Pyramid.

As long as he is given the chance to contact the dragon, there is a 50% chance of getting out.

"Don't even think about it. Just knowing how to pick a lock is useless."

The black-haired sturdy man poured a basin of cold water on him and shook his head, saying, "Without weapons, you are no match for the guards with your bare hands. You will die in vain."

After the duel, the weapons will be taken back, leaving no hope for the slaves.

Aemon was not discouraged and said preparedly: "I saw the warehouse where the weapons are stored today. It is behind the rest area."

Knowing where the weapons are hidden, the problem can be solved.

He pried off the shackles on his feet, opened the cell door and sneaked out, and finally killed the warehouse guard and seized the weapons.

Everything has a traceable path, as long as you dare to give it a try.

The black-haired sturdy man was quite smart. After thinking about the key, he still hesitated and said, "There are many guards in the arena, so it will be difficult to get you out."

As he spoke, he glanced at Aemon.

It's difficult to send it out, not that it's impossible to send it out.

But why should we believe that the other party has the ability to turn around and rescue them?

"I am of true dragon blood."

Eamon said with certainty, "You can ask Sally. She will testify for me."

Hearing this, the black-haired man's pupils suddenly shrank and he fell into deep thought.

……

In a blink of an eye, seven days later.

Meereen, the Great Arena.

Another duel was over, and the victorious slaves walked back to the rest area.

Iemon blended in with the crowd and found an inconspicuous spot to sit down.

"I found fifty people who are willing to help us."

The burly black-haired man strode over, his eyes darting everywhere.

Aemon whispered, "Aren't there more people?"

Even dozens of people could hardly defeat the guard of the weapons storage room.

The black-haired burly man snorted, “There are so many people, can you trust them?”

Aemon stopped talking and nodded silently.

Being able to win over dozens of people in a large arena with complicated human relationships is already a very difficult method of winning over people.

Any more would be unsafe.

The black-haired muscular man munched on the black bread, looked around and asked, "When do we start?"

The thought of killing the guards and breaking out of Slaver Bay to gain freedom.

Can't wait.

Yimeng thought for a moment and opened his mouth to speak: "Just half a month..."

Clang!

Before he could finish his words, a shrill gong sounded outside.

Knocking three times in succession was the signal to summon the slaves.

"Go and have a look first."

Aemon swallowed his words, stood up and walked out of the lounge area.

The other slaves cursed, stuffed their mouths with food, and quickly followed him out.

The slave owners were high and mighty, and the guards under their command were the cruelest executioners.

No one dared to resist the guards' orders.

in the arena.

The spectators in the auditorium had left, and the arena was empty and quiet.

Aemon walked out of the iron gate, the sunlight was so bright that he couldn't open his eyes.

When I got used to the light, a familiar figure appeared in front of me.

“Sally!!”

There was a gallows covered with thorns standing in the arena where the bloodstains had not yet been washed away.

The middle-aged woman who had taken care of him along the way was tied to the gallows, her bloated body was marked with blood marks from the hemp rope, and dry firewood was piled under her.

Aemon was stunned. He didn't expect to see her again in this way.

Clang!

The gloomy guard struck the gong, pointed at the gallows and shouted, "This lowly slave girl is an evil blood wizard who secretly trades potions to the slaves in the Grand Arena."

There was an uproar.

Aemon was confused as to what was going on, but the dark-haired burly man in the cloak looked shocked.

Slaves in the Colosseum were not valued, unless they were strong slaves who had won every battle.

As a result, it was difficult for slaves to receive adequate treatment when injured.

This priestess traded medicine with them through the slave owners' channels in exchange for intelligence and secret operations.

The vicious guard yelled and scolded the slaves, then picked up a torch and threw it on the pile of firewood.

boom!
The firewood was doused with kerosene in advance and exploded and burned instantly.

The middle-aged woman closed her eyes and muttered something with her thick lips trembling.

It's like praying for help from the sheep god of faith.

"No~~"

Aemon stood there in a daze, and subconsciously took a step forward.

Then he was grabbed tightly by the black-haired burly man and his mouth was covered to prevent him from speaking.

The guards did not implicate the slaves because they could not figure out who had contact with outsiders.

If the guy with the crew cut had been rash enough to expose himself, his life would be in danger.

"Woo~~"

Yimon struggled for a while, staring at the fire. The woman had taken care of him all the way, persuading him to live and not give up his life too early.

Although she doesn't look good, she can always use her body to exchange for spoiled food and dirty water to ensure that the two people will not starve.

The fire burned fiercely, emitting billowing black smoke.

The middle-aged woman's eyelids were tightly closed, and her lips were muttering rapidly.

The flames spread to the clothes and quickly burned the skin.

Soon, the prayers turned into screams.

"Don't look."

The dark-haired burly man frowned and blocked Aemon's view.

Aemon was confused, his body stiff and numb.

At the last moment of sight, I saw the face of a middle-aged woman.

The other person opened his eyes, and his green eyes were full of fear of death.

Coincidentally, the two pairs of eyes met.

The middle-aged woman saw Aemon in the crowd through the flames.

She was stunned for a moment, and wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes.

It's no use.

The screams gradually turned into curses, cursing all the slave owners and their lackeys to die with her.

Aemon was pressed into the arms of the black-haired muscular man, listening to the shrill wails.

"Burned to ashes?"

Aemon closed his eyes and moved his lips slightly.

He understood that this was the middle-aged woman's last wish before death.

Soon, the public trials that intimidated slaves ended.

All the slaves returned to the underground cells, wasting the rest area rations.

On the way, the black-haired strong man was in a heavy mood and asked carefully: "Is the time set for half a month later?"

I happened to hear from the guard that a grand meeting would be held in Meereen in half a month.

The defense will be relaxed by then, which will be a good opportunity.

"No!" Aemon lowered his head and gritted his teeth, "Tonight."

……

Dusk.

The guards took turns eating, and the underground cells were less guarded.

Click!

A prison door was quietly pushed open, and several figures slipped out.

Aemon dropped the shackles and opened the remaining cell doors one by one.

The slaves in the cell had shining eyes and shouted excitedly.

Whether you rush out or find the guard and inform on him, you can give it a try.

"Get out of here! If you want freedom, follow me!"

The black-haired burly man shouted and led the way out of the dungeon.

He broke open the cell door in one move and, as the two guards looked on in shock, he threw off the shackles and strangled him.

With two clicks, he fell to the ground.

"Rush!!"

The slaves were extremely excited when they saw the blood and they all rushed out.

Some ran around, while others followed the burly black-haired man.

Yimon had a clear goal and went straight to the warehouse behind the rest area.

"who is it!?"

A team of guards sat in the warehouse, armed with weapons to deter others.

The slaves were frightened for a moment, then pounced on him madly.

Seize the spear weapons and tear into pieces the guards who tried to shout for support.

Click!

Yimon's face remained calm as he immediately pried open the iron lock of the warehouse.

The door opens, and a wide variety of armor and weapons are at your fingertips.

Slave Bay was breathing rapidly and was about to rush in to rob.

"Stop right there, everyone. If you want freedom, listen carefully!"

The black-haired burly man took out the giant sword he was good at, stuck it in front of the door and roared loudly.

With one shout, all the slaves were frightened.

There were a large number of slaves, and even if some of them ran away, there were still thousands of them.

But only a few dozen of them were recruited in advance, and the rest were more or less hoping for luck.

"What do you want to say? If you don't run now, when will you run?"

A young slave was filled with rage and desperate to escape.

Where there are weapons, there is hope.

The other slaves nodded repeatedly and stared at the black-haired man with unfriendly eyes.

Whoever stops them is the enemy.

"Listen to me, you bastards!"

Aemon stood up at this time and said in a bad tone: "You want freedom, I also want freedom, but can we get freedom with the few people here and the weapons in the warehouse?"

They couldn't even get out of the Colosseum, let alone the heavily guarded city of Meereen.

"So what should you do?"

The young slave had a gloomy face and looked down on the boy.

"Help me and I will set you free!"

Aemon opened his arms and gave a speech imitating his father's: "I am of the blood of the dragon. If you help me escape, I will repay you."

The slaves didn't understand what true dragon blood was, and they didn't trust the young boy.

Wow!

Aemon didn't need to say anything and simply overturned the brazier at the door of the warehouse.

The burning charcoal was scattered all over the ground, and the flames rose up.

Aemon walked over to the flames and thrust his right hand into them.

He picked up a dagger from the guard's body and cut his wrist with a "swish".

The blood dripped onto the burning charcoal.

boom!
The blood seemed to be the best fuel, and in an instant the flames surged to a height of ten feet.

This scene stunned the slaves.

This was exactly what Aemon wanted. He endured the burning pain and the severe pain in his wrist and said through clenched teeth: "I am Aemon Targaryen. I am the lost true dragon. Who is willing to fight for me and for freedom? "

There was total silence, and everyone stared in a daze.

Aemon was sweating profusely and let the flames burn him.

He was not unburnable, and the flames still caused damage to him.

But in order to win people's hearts, a little pain means nothing.

Aemon took a deep breath and shouted again: "I am a real dragon. Who is willing to fight for the real dragon?"

Pfft!Pfft!
A large group of slaves knelt down with a crash, their faces flushed with excitement.

His mouth trembled, the words stuck in his throat.

At this moment, all that was left in his eyes was the half-grown boy in the flames.

"Fight for the real dragon!!"

The black-haired burly man suddenly shouted loudly and swung his sword to cut down the shelves in the warehouse.

"For the real dragon!!"

"..."

The slaves shouted loudly, their morale reached its peak, and they got up from the ground and rushed into the warehouse.

Aemon staggered, his arms stinging from the burn.

Looking down, a layer of fine scaly lines seemed to appear under the smooth skin.

(End of this chapter)