King's Landing, a certain room.
"Allison, there's nothing I can do to help with your request."
Janny sat upright in her chair, expressing regret.
Opposite her, Allison said with displeasure, "You said that in this man's world, we women must stick together."
"The marriage request from Dorne is not unreasonable. The decision is for the king to make, and I can't interfere," Janny said, her hands helpless.
"Viserys will definitely marry Helena to Dorne, and I must make a change before he agrees," Allison pleaded. "I only have one daughter. I can't just abandon her."
Janny's expression remained unchanged. "My power lies in the Vale, not in King's Landing."
She knew full well the dangers of a political marriage for women.
If not, she wouldn't have been unmarried at 24.
But the decision for a marriage between the kingdoms and Dorne was in the hands of the king. Her words alone wouldn't be enough.
Allison knew she wouldn't help, and her face darkened. She coldly said, "Janny, don't forget our agreement. I've been whispering in Viserys' ear all this time."
They had promised mutual aid when they formed their alliance, yet now, in a time of need, Janny wanted to stand by and do nothing.
Allison only had one thing to say: "Not possible!"
Janny furrowed her brows slightly, displeased. "I haven't seen any results from your efforts. I fought for it myself, only to be discarded like rubbish. I can't even imagine how I appear in Rhaegar's eyes."
The other party hadn't helped her, nor did it seem they had any intention of doing so.
"So what? Viserys is considering your marriage as he does with Helena's. It's all the same to him."
Allison completely lost her temper, her face growing hard as she threatened, "Janny, I am the Queen. It might be difficult for me to accomplish something, but destroying something is all too easy."
Janny's expression darkened. "Threatening me won't work. Being powerless means being powerless."
The most embarrassing thing in her life was being rejected by Rhaegar.
Before that, she had been a lady of high rank. She would never bow to anyone.
Allison stood up and looked down at her. "Once I leave, our alliance is over."
"Do as you wish!"
Janny's lips parted slightly, indifferent.
Allison snorted and left quickly.
Just as she was about to close the door, Janny's voice echoed softly.
"I can't help you. Think carefully about who can influence the king's decisions, and then go ask for help from them."
"No need to remind me!"
Allison, ungrateful, pushed the door and left.
After leaving Janny's room, Allison's gloomy face returned to calm, and she tidied up her appearance.
She then walked towards Rhaenyra's room.
She understood the meaning behind Janny's last words.
Who in the kingdom could influence Viserys's decisions?
The answer was clear.
Rhaegar!
And who could influence Rhaegar's decisions?
Rhaenyra!
Before entering Janny's room, Allison already knew the plan.
During their secret discussion in the attic, Larys Strong had already given her a perfect plan.
First, ask Janny for help.
No matter what, Janny would give her assistance, especially considering Helena's status.
Even if Allison had to threaten her, Janny still offered her advice.
When the time came, she would act.
Next, go to Rhaenyra to complain and beg for help.
With this plan in mind, Allison arrived at Rhaenyra's room and knocked on the door.
*Knock knock knock...*
"Rhaenyra, I need to talk to you."
Allison changed her tone, sounding pitiful.
---
**Tyros, the Wine-scented Garden.**
A group of middle-aged people dressed in fine clothes with various hair colors gathered here.
An elder with dark skin and red-dyed hair, wearing a brocade robe, sat in a pavilion holding a young girl in his arms.
In the pavilion, a group of rebellious young men in leather armor sat on either side, each holding a beautiful woman.
Opposite the brocade-robed elder stood a young man with silver and golden curly hair and blue eyes.
The young man spoke, "Lord Gulagas, the war on the Stairs Islands is going well. The Three-City Alliance is about to win."
The brocade-robed elder, known as the Lord, lowered his eyelids and chuckled, "That golden-haired Lannister is so easy to deceive. Just releasing some half-truths and he's fooled."
"Indeed, that sea snake nearly died. Westeros's army might never recover," said a dark-haired, olive-skinned young man from Mill, laughing heartily.
The Three-City Nation, also known as the Three-City Alliance, consists of the free trading cities of Tyros, Mill, and Lys.
The ruler of Tyros is called the Lord, referring to the brocade-robed elder.
The rebellious young men are one of Tyros's specialties—mercenaries.
Mill is governed by a council of governors, and the young man from Mill is one of them, sent as a representative to Tyros.
Lys operates on an election system, with only one governor.
The young man with silver and golden curly hair was Sandro Rogar, the brother of Lys's governor, Litsandro Rogar.
The Rogar family is the most prominent family in Lys, owning a bank as rich as Braavos's Iron Bank.
They are incredibly wealthy.
**Sandro Rogar said,** "The war for the Stepstones isn't over yet. The Targaryen prince is still gathering supplies and troops, preparing to reclaim Bloodstone Island."
**"A green boy fresh to the battlefield? Aside from his dragon, he's not worth mentioning."**
The elderly man in embroidered robes waved dismissively, showing utter disdain for the so-called prince.
If Daemon Targaryen were leading an army, riding Caraxes into battle for the Stepstones, he might have been concerned.
But a young and inexperienced Targaryen, holed up on Grey Gallows Island, unable to even detect spies infiltrating his camp?
And yet, he dared to declare a decisive battle in half a month?
What a joke.
The Myrish youth pulled out a letter and reminded them, **"My lords, this is the latest report from the front. The troops on Grey Gallows Island are running low on supplies and are in urgent need of reinforcements."**
**"What are the enemy's movements?"**
The elderly man in embroidered robes asked.
**The Myrish youth replied,** "Four dragons have been taking turns bombarding Bloodstone Island, but our men are hiding in caves, suffering minimal losses."
**"They're just relying on their dragons to flaunt their power!"**
The elderly man scoffed, clearly full of contempt for dragons.
The Myrish youth continued, **"According to intelligence, in two days, a large fleet of supply ships will depart from Tideshead, heading toward Grey Gallows Island. We can intercept them."**
**"The enemy has dragons. They won't just stand by and watch us destroy their supply ships,"** Sandro Rogar objected.
**"Normally, no, but now is not a normal situation."**
The Myrish youth smirked, **"Our spies report that Grey Gallows Island is mustering its troops for an imminent counterattack on Bloodstone Island."**
**"We can launch a feint to draw their main forces away and, in that crucial window, destroy their supply lines."**
The elderly man in embroidered robes nodded. **"A solid plan. Cut off their supplies, and Grey Gallows Island's army will crumble on its own."**
When they seized Bloodstone Island, the mercenaries looted all the supplies.
The remaining Westerosi forces had no provisions and had to rely on shipments from the rear.
If they destroyed the supply line in advance, there would be no need for a decisive battle—starvation would finish off the enemy.
**"We could also raid the Gullet and plunder Tideshead. That place is full of wealth."**
The Myrish youth's eyes gleamed with greed.
Sandro Rogar frowned. **"Rhaenys Velaryon guards Tideshead. She rides Vhagar—the largest and oldest of the dragons."**
**"So what? Our forces can land, pillage, and retreat. A dragon won't burn down an entire island."**
The Myrish youth was confident.
Dragons were formidable in battle, but they weren't invincible.
He didn't believe a dragonrider would risk destroying their own land.
After some debate, the elderly man in embroidered robes made the final decision.
**"In two days, we'll send a small force from Bloodstone Island to raid Grey Gallows Island and draw the dragons away."**
**"Meanwhile, the main fleet will intercept and loot the supply ships. Depending on the situation, we may also invade Tideshead. But first, we must sever their supply lines."**
Upon hearing this, both the Myrish youth and Sandro Rogar pondered briefly before nodding in agreement.
---
### Two Days Later
The Narrow Sea, near Tarth Island.
The deep blue sea stretched endlessly as more than a dozen large supply ships sailed toward the Stepstones.
The fleet advanced slowly, entering the waters near Windward Point.
**"Attack!"**
**…**
A fleet of warships appeared on the horizon, all bearing the banners of the Triarchy.
A lookout aboard the supply ships spotted them and immediately shouted, **"Enemy ships approaching! Change course!"**
The helmsmen, panicked, turned their wheels sharply, trying to escape.
But it was too late.
Warships moved much faster than heavily loaded cargo vessels. It wouldn't take long for them to encircle the fleet.
Before long, the Triarchy warships closed in.
The lookout counted with trembling fingers.
**Sixty warships.**
**"Lower the rams! Charge!"**
The Triarchy warships pressed forward, their commanders barking orders to ram the cargo ships.
**Boom!**
The first wave of warships reached the target. Their massive rams tore through the cargo ships' hulls, bringing them to a grinding halt.
**"Board them!"**
The Triarchy commander drew his curved blade and led his pirates onto the ships, using grappling hooks and gangplanks to swarm aboard.
Before long, the entire cargo fleet was surrounded, with pirates spilling onto the decks, slaughtering and looting.
Then, something strange happened.
Before the pirates could even board, the helmsmen and sailors of the cargo ships leaped overboard, abandoning their vessels.
The pirates paid no mind and rushed to the cargo holds to plunder their goods.
They smashed open the hatches—only to find them completely empty.
Not just one ship—all of them were empty.
Only a single vessel held anything of value.
From its cargo hold, a small force of soldiers suddenly burst forth.
At the forefront was Ser Criston Cole, swinging a morningstar as he bellowed, **"Kill every last one of these Triarchy pirates!"**
Behind him, fewer than a hundred soldiers fought with fearless determination.
Seeing this, the Triarchy commander immediately realized something was wrong.
His face paled, and he shouted, **"Retreat! It's a trap! Get back to Bloodstone Island—now!"**
His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the empty ships.
There had never been a massive supply shipment.
The intelligence they'd received was likely a complete fabrication.
But before he could rally his forces—
**"Screeeeeeech!!"**
A deafening chorus of dragon roars filled the air, echoing across the sea.
The pirates looked up in terror.
**Dragons.**
**Four dragons.**
Coal-black Tyraxes.
Blood-red Meleys.
Golden Sunfyre.
Pale silver-gray Seasmoke.
From atop Tyraxes, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen gazed down at the Triarchy fleet and parted his lips.
**"Dracarys."**
**"Screeeeech!!"**
Tyraxes roared, diving toward the fleet, unleashing a torrent of ghostly green dragonfire.
Rhaenys, Aegon, and Laenor followed suit, their dragons spewing flames of crimson, gold, and silver-blue.
In an instant, the sky above the Triarchy fleet was filled with fire.
(End of Chapter)