"I have always advocated the strategy of 'building strongholds and fighting steady battles,' but that doesn't mean we shouldn't use our
"I have always advocated the strategy of 'building strongholds and fighting steady battles,' but that doesn't mean we shouldn't use our brains, nor does it mean we only take blows without striking back.
A wise defense and counterattack is my core principle," Grazdan declared with force.
Everyone's attention was drawn to him, their curious and expectant gazes fixed on the suddenly sharp-edged God of War.
The representative of Tyrosh looked at him with admiration and softly asked, "How do we counterattack while defending?"
"The Dragon Queen's fleet is only 300 kilometers away. Without a doubt, after taking Tolos and burning Astapor, her ambitions have grown and now she intends to strike at New Ghis.
Since that's the case, we continue with our previous plan. Dispatch a fleet to lie in wait for an ambush. She came rushing here, so she can't possibly have brought too many warships.
At the same time, we send word to Mantarys, asking them to cooperate. While the Dragon Queen is tied down near New Ghis, have the wyvern flocks strike at Astapor's factories, Kayren's wheat fields, and Meereen's labor camps.
Burn the factories and the endless wheat fields, liberate the hundreds of thousands imprisoned in the labor camps.
I will set fire to the Mother of Dragons' rear on all sides. I will see all her years of effort destroyed in a single night!"
The God of War's expression burned with fervor. Gesturing wildly, he was nothing like the cold, lifeless man who had once spoken of "building strongholds and fighting steady battles."
Cragg smacked his thigh in sudden realization. "Right! I almost forgot—the Valyrian remnants still have wyverns. Damn it, taming wyverns is such a huge matter, and no one bothered to tell us?"
"If Mantarys is willing to cooperate, General Grazdan's plan truly has promise," Xaro said with delight.
"If it works, Daenerys will probably go mad," the representative of the Isle of Elephants said excitedly.
"Hahaha! That's exactly what we want—drive her mad first, then she will be destroyed," Grazdan laughed heartily.
The council reached a decision and immediately sent word to both the First Fleet and Mantarys.
With the ravens dispatched, the meeting did not disperse. The mention of wyverns left everyone wearing complicated expressions.
After a long silence, Cragg finally asked the question everyone wanted to ask: "Can Mantarys spare us a few wyverns?"
"Yes! Mantarys is part of the alliance too. Hiding wyvern-taming from us is hardly proper," Xaro quickly agreed.
The representative of the Isle of Elephants spoke bitterly: "Have those Valyrian remnants forgotten who provides their grain?
Dozens of city-states along the Jade Sea, countless islands in the Summer Sea, Qarth, New Ghis, Lys—over a hundred nations have given their grain, transported through Tolos to Mantarys.
Since they've joined this allied family, they should share both dragons and responsibility.
We from the Isle of Elephants have given money, soldiers, and grain. Would sharing a few wyverns really be too much to ask?
They are wyverns, not dragons. The rainforests of Sothoryos are teeming with them."
Grazdan turned his gaze to the Pirate King of the Basilisk Isles. "Can you not search the tropical jungles for a wyvern's nest?"
The Basilisk Isles lie right beside the continent of Sothoryos.
"How could we dare enter the jungles?"
A burly black man with colorful, fine dreadlocks gave a bitter smile, his eyes flashing with fear. "Even on the islands, there's miasma everywhere, plagues every year. To venture deep into the mainland jungles—that would be suicide."
Thinking of Yazzan, his fellow "Hero of Yunkai," Grazdan sighed, dropped the subject, and asked instead: "What does the Dragon Mistress say? In nearly a year, seven or eight families, more than five hundred people—why hasn't a single dragon egg hatched?"
The governor of New Ghis, responsible for the matter, replied: "The Dragon Mistress believes their bloodline is not pure enough."
"The Dragon Queen has already hatched her fifth dragon, yet we haven't seen so much as a dragon scale. Why? Is this Dragon Mistress truly not a fraud?" Xaro questioned loudly.
"The golden dragon that once belonged to the great master Murinio is nearly big enough to carry a rider, and you still doubt Lady Dragon Mistress?" Zanetti said unhappily.
Zanetti was the one who had originally provided Murinio's dragon egg, as well as the introducer and guarantor of the Dragon Mistress.
It was also he who insisted they keep her in New Ghis to hatch dragons.
The entire project was under his command. Of course he could not disavow her.
Not to mention, who would bear responsibility for the deaths of those five hundred burned alive?
"Then tell me this—about the fifth red dragon. Which close relative did Daenerys sacrifice for it? In fact, instead of losing kin, she has gained one more great-grandfather and a nephew," Xaro pressed loudly.
The hall fell silent, everyone's hearts heavy.
"Because she sacrificed someone else's kin! Just like the Dragon Mistress sacrificed Murinio's family, not her own.
Everyone knows the Mother of Dragons dabbles in magic.
She must have done the same as the Dragon Mistress—in Volantis and Lys, she sacrificed hundreds of noble souls."
Zanetti repeated the explanation the Dragon Mistress had given him, without hesitation.
Whether others believed it or not, he had no choice but to believe.
The God of War's eyes gleamed coldly. He asked in a chilling tone: "Speaking of Aemon and Aegon—what do you think?"
There was no hesitation. As if agreed upon in advance, nearly everyone wore the same feral, merciless expression and snarled in unison: "She must be given bloody retribution!"
"Heh, heh, heh." The God of War laughed darkly. "The gods be praised. The wise, mighty, and invincible Dragon Queen finally has a weakness!"
An old wise lord who had escaped from Yuankai licked his lips and sneered. "Yes, we crave revenge, but she has always been alone.
Sometimes I wonder, if only her second brother and her son hadn't died, how great that would have been."
"If her son were still alive, we would have already sent the Sorrowful Men to Slaver's Bay," Zaro sighed.
"As if your Qarth Sorrowful Men would even get the chance. In the southern Jade Sea, our 'Bloodthorn Alliance' may not know the art of disguise, but in assassination they surpass even the Faceless Men, and many of our assassins are skilled in sorcery.
If she dared to free the slaves, countless slavers' teams would pay the Bloodthorns to kill her son," the delegate from the Isle of Elephants said bluntly.
"Assassination carries risks. Our poisons from Lys are renowned across the world. Killing a child would hardly be difficult," said Prince Trigg of Lys.
"Hmph, if her son had survived, I would have disguised myself as a merchant, slipped into Astapor, and while she was off riding her dragon in Westeros, I would have kidnapped the boy. Why bother with assassins and poison?
There's no satisfaction like taking revenge with your own hands." The Pirate King bared his teeth in a cruel grin.
"Heh, Astapor is crawling with Unsullied. You think you could kidnap her son? Foolish dream. Even that blue-lipped warlock is more reliable than you," Zaro mocked.
"Hey, stop quarreling. If her son had lived, the Braavosi would have sent the Faceless Men long ago," the Tyroshi representative sneered.
"The hypocrites of Braavos use the name of the Sorrowful Men to fool us. If the Mother of Dragons hadn't spoken up herself, we'd still be in the dark.
Since they oppose her, why don't they simply join our alliance? Hiding in the shadows, too timid to act, only invites the laughter of all the world's heroes," Zaro said with contempt.
"Unfortunately, she has no son. Fortunately, her blood nephew still lives. That old Aemon doesn't matter—he's too old, too distant in kinship. If he dies, she won't care much.
But Aegon is her elder brother's only son. Killing him would be like tearing away half her soul," the God of War said coldly.
"So what shall we do? Do we send infiltrators, or hire assassins? The Bloodthorns, the Sorrowful Men, warlocks, poisoners, or the Faceless Men?" Sanetti asked.
The God of War pondered for a moment, then suggested, "Everyone contributes. The more you hate her, the more you pay. Whatever the sum, we'll hire as many as we can."
With that, he waved his hand grandly. "I wish I could eat her flesh and drink her blood, but her swordsmanship is unmatched, her magic too powerful. Even the Faceless Men cannot touch her.
So I'll put up half my fortune to buy her nephew's life. As long as it makes her heart bleed, three million golden sun coins is worth it!"
"I represent Qarth—four million!" Zaro said through a twisted face.
"One million!"
"The Isle of Elephants, two million."
Finally, a naval commander from Tolos, face contorted with fury, declared, "My house is destroyed. I have only five hundred thousand at hand, but I'll put it all in. I'll even borrow another one and a half million from the Iron Bank. If killing her is impossible, then I'll take out my rage on her nephew instead!"
His name was Pirlo Valorys, younger brother of the wyvern rider Piero.
The Dragon Queen had always been merciless to her enemies.
The day she foresaw an attack by wyverns, she and her people hid away, leaving the Valorys and Telirys families inside the governor's mansion.
As fate would have it, under Piero's own command, the first wave of thirty wyverns unleashed their fire-oil barrage directly onto the mansion, wiping out both his and his father-in-law's houses.
Thus Pirlo's hatred for Aegon had sunk deep into his bones.
Indeed, his hatred extended to all connected.
When the contributions were tallied, everyone was both shocked and relieved. The pooled funds exceeded twenty million golden sun coins—enough to commission every renowned assassin guild in the world.
"Send out the invitations. Spend every coin. Swear to kill Aegon Targaryen!" Grazdan decreed.
"Swear to kill Aegon Targaryen!" the crowd echoed in unison.
In that hidden chamber, the scene was like that of a demonic overlord rising to dominate the martial world, with righteous heroes forced into the shadows—slaughtering chickens, burning incense, drinking blood wine, smashing bowls, and swearing to heaven and earth that they would rid the world of evil and avenge the countless fallen.
"Achoo! Achoo!"
The night breeze was cool. Aegon pulled his collar tighter, rubbed his weary nose, and sighed. "Big Black, you're wise and understand human speech. After talking so much, you must realize my situation now, don't you?"
The Battle of the Bay of Grief was already over. Around five in the afternoon, Gars's long galleys finally reached the battlefield.
The oil-transport ships always remained two kilometers behind the First Fleet. Little Gold, Little Green, and the six wyverns under Tyrion's command fetched the fire-oil bombs from those ships.
If any enemy vessel dared break from formation to attack the supply ships, Little White would immediately dive beneath the sea to destroy them.
Helpless, the commander of the First Fleet ordered the grand formation abandoned, regrouping into squadrons of four warships each, launching a desperate charge against the thirty ships of Slaver's Bay.
A colossal naval battle ensued, pure chaos.
After sunset, the dark sea was covered with wreckage, burning like countless stars scattered across the waves.
Dany, of course, won a resounding victory. She lost only two ships, destroyed sixty enemy vessels, captured twenty-one, and only about four slipped away under cover of night.
From the sea alone, over eight thousand prisoners were hauled up.
Among them was the fleet commander, the Triarch of Volantis, Elyos.
Leaving the White Knight to reorganize the fleet, Dany returned to Astapor around three or four in the morning on dragonback.
And then, Aegon resumed his daily dragon-taming ritual—confiding in Big Black.
(End of Chapter)
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