July arrived, bringing the height of summer.
The Stepstones – Grey Gallows Island.
"Retreat quickly! Everyone, get back to the caves for shelter!"
"Hold the line! Don't let those Pentoshi bastards chase us down—"
"—"
On the golden sands, two groups of mercenaries clashed in a fierce battle. Catapults launched firestones, sending flames and thick smoke billowing into the sky.
"Pin them down! Don't let a single Three Daughters pirate escape!"
"—"
Leading the charge was a tall knight clad in silver armor and a white cloak, wielding a spiked flail.
Clang!
The flail whistled through the air with immense force, striking a Three Daughters pirate's head. The impact burst it apart like a shattered silver flask.
Criston Cole, a member of the Kingsguard, had once again been sent to the Stepstones—a place where he had suffered disgrace—to fight in the Narrow Sea War.
Boom!
The battle grew more intense. Warships clashed at sea, exchanging scorpion bolt fire, leaving ships in splintered wreckage.
Mercenaries screamed as they fell into the ocean. Some attempted to climb back aboard, only to be shot down by archers on the decks above. Their blood stained the waters red.
As time passed, the battle reached a stalemate.
More Three Daughters pirates were arriving from all directions, and the pirates on Grey Gallows Island were close to breaking through the encirclement and retreating into their caves.
"Screeeech—"
Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the sky. A massive, jet-black beast burst through the clouds.
"Dragonfire!"
Rhaegar's silver hair billowed as he coldly issued his command.
"Roar…"
Greedflame let out a furious growl and swooped down, spewing emerald-green dragonfire across the beach.
"A dragon—!"
"Help! Run—!"
The ghostly green flames poured down like a storm, engulfing the clustered pirates of the Three Daughters. Agonized screams filled the air.
Criston Cole looked up and shouted, "Fall back! Hold the beach!"
Boom!
Greedflame circled low, cutting off the pirates' retreat to the caves with waves of green fire.
"Loose! Loose the arrows!"
On the island's rocky peaks, a group of pirates spread out, armed with crossbows, aiming for the airborne dragon.
Rhaegar glanced over and sneered. "Greedflame, kill them."
"Roar…"
Greedflame's green, slit-pupiled eyes flicked toward the archers. Abandoning the burning pirates below, it spread its wings, gliding close to the mountainside. Its maw opened wide.
A concentrated blast of emerald dragonfire shot across the mountain, instantly incinerating a hundred crossbowmen into ashes.
"Screeech… Screeech…"
At that moment, two more piercing dragon cries echoed from the sea.
Two dragons—a pale silver one and a light gray one—soared toward the battlefield.
Lannino, clad in silver-gray armor, shouted excitedly, "Dragonfire!"
"Screeech—"
Seasmoke's sharp vertical pupils glinted as its broad, snow-white wings flapped. It dove toward the enemy fleet, unleashing dragonfire.
Grayghost hovered above the chaotic battlefield, spewing erratic bursts of orange fireballs.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The explosions sent allies and enemies alike into disarray.
Hearing his men scream, Lannino's face paled. "Grayghost! Attack from the rear!"
He spoke in High Valyrian, hoping the unclaimed wild dragon would understand.
"Screech?"
Grayghost's pale gray body, lean yet powerful, hesitated before disappearing into the clouds, watching from above.
Without a rider, it could attack alone, but distinguishing friend from foe in battle was difficult.
Seeing the wild dragon leave, the pirates below let out a collective sigh of relief.
Grayghost was not as majestic as some dragons. As it grew, its slender frame appeared slightly gaunt, but its expansive gray wings gave it an imposing presence.
Its head was adorned with overlapping fangs, and its long, narrow pupils gleamed menacingly. Two curved, gray-white horns arched backward from its skull.
Perhaps due to prolonged contact with Greedflame, it was developing an increasingly fearsome appearance.
At first glance, it looked like a white ghost.
Watching Grayghost timidly retreat, Lannino's face twitched in embarrassment. He turned back to the battle, riding Seasmoke into the fray.
The Three Daughters' pirates had overwhelming numbers. Dozens of warships anchored across the Stepstones. Fighting alone was difficult.
"Woo—woo—woo—"
Suddenly, a high-pitched war horn sounded.
A small fleet, bearing a crowned stag sigil, sailed in from the distance.
"Screeech…"
Above the fleet, an ugly brown dragon soared flamboyantly, its scarred, uneven back carrying a silver-haired youth.
Aemond's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Sheepstealer, give them dragonfire!"
"Screeech…"
Sheepstealer let out a piercing cry. Its massive form glided low over the battlefield, spewing clumps of thick, muddy dragonfire.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The flaming blobs slammed onto pirate ships, instantly igniting massive brown blazes. The deck timbers cracked as gaping holes burned through them.
"Haha! Beautifully done!"
Aemond laughed triumphantly, swaying in his saddle.
After their bonding period, Sheepstealer obeyed him well.
At least when it came to fighting.
"Screeeech—"
The Devourer raised its head and roared, plunging into the clouds before diving again, spewing eerie green dragonfire at the pirate ship.
Rhaegar looked down, surveying the battlefield as he guided the massive dragon beneath him into a crushing assault.
"Hiss… Gah…"
A gray silhouette emerged from the clouds. Recognizing a familiar rider and dragon, it slowly joined the battle.
With four dragons and two fleets now combined, the tide of battle turned instantly.
Under a relentless barrage, the pirate fleet of the Three Daughters found no escape on the open sea, their ships and crews consumed by flames.
…
As night fell, the sea battle came to an end.
Gray Gallows Island – Temporary Encampment
Rhaegar, his silver hair draping over his shoulders, wore a solemn expression. "There are still remnants of a stubborn garrison on Bloodstone Isle. We need to lead our forces to clear them out."
Lannino pounded his chest in assurance. "Leave it to me. I'll take Bloodstone Isle before dawn."
"Be careful. There are hidden tunnels on the island from before. Cole will lead troops to assist you."
Rhaegar's mind raced as he confirmed the strategy.
Bloodstone Isle had been Aegon's fiefdom and had been under royal control for three years. They were already familiar with its terrain and secret passages.
That was why he had so readily handed over the Stepstones without hesitation.
Lannino accepted his orders and set out, launching a nighttime battle for control of the island.
Rhaegar rubbed his tense brow, considering the terrain of Gray Gallows Island, calculating inwardly.
"We need a strong fortress."
Among the Stepstones, there were only two large islands—Bloodstone Isle and Gray Gallows Island.
Neither had more than standard fortifications, making defense difficult in wartime.
A properly built military fortress was essential.
As he was contemplating, Aemond, clad in a green cloak, hurried over, his voice filled with excitement. "Brother, there's a letter from King's Landing."
Rhaegar glanced at him before taking the letter. "Next time you go into battle, wear armor."
Aemond scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.
He had snuck out to the battlefield without any properly fitted armor.
His older brother had already caught him and given him a harsh lecture.
Rhaegar skimmed the letter and smiled. "The fleets from Oldtown, Greenshield, and other places will be arriving soon. That's good news."
In this Narrow Sea campaign, his goal was a swift victory, avoiding a prolonged stalemate.
Now that they had taken Myr—one of the Three Daughters—and reclaimed control of the central Stepstones, the situation looked promising.
Once reinforcements arrived, Myr and the Stepstones could form a pincer attack, allowing them to capture a second Free City quickly and claim victory in this war.
Aemond's eyes lit up. "Brother, when the reinforcements come, let me join the siege with you!"
Though he was young, his desire for honor was undeniable.
Smack!
Rhaegar backhanded him across the forehead and demanded, "What's the punishment for abandoning one's post during wartime?"
"H-hanging?" Aemond clutched his head, his voice uncertain.
Rhaegar sneered. "So you do know, and yet you still disobeyed orders and snuck onto the battlefield?"
"I have a dragon! Sheepstealer is strong!" Aemond protested.
Rhaegar narrowed his eyes and raised his hand again.
"Wait, wait!" Aemond quickly backed away.
Rhaegar lowered his hand but gripped Aemond's shoulder, his expression serious. "You have your own mission. The Dornish could attack our rear at any moment. You and your dragon must guard the Stormlands. Do you understand?"
The main battle in the Narrow Sea was being fought over the Disputed Lands, while the upper half of the sea and Dorne formed two secondary fronts.
He had sent Aegon and Helaena to Gulltown and Crab Isle, with Jeyne in command of overall strategy. He was confident about the upper Narrow Sea.
However, the Stormlands, Dorne, and even the Reach were more uncertain.
Qoren Martell would undoubtedly understand the consequences of letting his allies, the Three Daughters, fall.
The Prince's Pass, the Boneway, and Windy Point would likely be Dornish targets for invasion.
Aemond's role was to support Cassandra in managing the Stormland vassals and, if necessary, lead his dragon in a defensive battle.
If he could buy enough time, Rhaegar could fly back on the Devourer from the sea, or their father could lead the royal army from King's Landing to intercept the Dornish at key choke points.
That was why Aemond abandoning his post was a serious offense.
Aemond's gaze wavered, and he lowered his head. "I understand."
"Are you sure?" Rhaegar stared at him intently.
Aemond pursed his lips and nodded firmly.
Rhaegar patted his shoulder in encouragement. "I'll let it slide this time. At first light tomorrow, return to Storm's End and keep watch over Dorne for me."
"…Alright." Aemond sounded dejected.
Rhaegar chuckled and called for Robb, who was in charge of the garrison. "I plan to build fortresses on Bloodstone Isle and Gray Gallows Island, using black dragonstone."
Robb hesitated for a moment. "You'll need to return to Dragonstone for workers?"
"Exactly."
Rhaegar's thoughts were clear as he continued, "Daemon and the Sea Snake are leading raids on Lys and Tyrosh. I'll recall the Sea Snake. You'll assist him however you can."
With Myr fallen, Lys and Tyrosh would cling to each other tightly. Conquering them immediately was unrealistic.
The Stepstones needed to be fortified as a solid base of operations.
Black dragonstone was readily available. With dragonfire and the island's stone, the fortresses could be built quickly.
Robb nodded and left.
Rhaegar glanced at Aemond, who remained silent, and ruffled his hair.
Muttering to himself, he said, "It's about time Aegon had a castle of his own."
Bloodstone Isle was Aegon's domain, yet it lacked a proper castle—a situation that was almost laughable.
To prevent anyone from coveting the conquered lands of the Three Daughters, it was best to anchor Aegon firmly on Bloodstone Isle.
…
Braavos
In the underground chamber beneath the Sea Lord's Palace, shadows flickered across the dimly lit space. Several figures gathered near a raised platform, concealed beneath the massive remains of a dragon skeleton.
Ferrego stood with his hands behind his back, silently observing the three dragon eggs nestled in a bed of straw.
The eggs were covered in scaled patterns, worn with age, as if time itself had left its mark upon them.
Fortunately, the shells had not hardened into stone, and they still retained the potential for hatching.
"Sea Lord, there is no guarantee that all three dragon eggs will hatch," said a tall, middle-aged man draped in a bright red robe.
The man was imposing, with light purple eyes, a shaved head, and a pale but strikingly handsome face.
Ferrego's expression was arrogant as he barked, "No matter the cost, all three eggs must hatch!"
The red-robed man's eyes darkened. "That will require blood magic—not just remnants of dragonkind, but true dragon blood."
"And where do we find that?" Ferrego asked, startled.
The red-robed man shook his head. "I practice a lost art of blood sorcery. Select three Valyrian children of pure lineage from your candidates."
His gaze swept over the other figures in the chamber, his meaning clear.
Among them stood a cloaked Shadowbinder wearing a dark green lacquered mask, a gaunt-faced alchemist in a maester's robe, a Red Priestess devoted to R'hllor, and even an elderly pyromancer with silver-white hair.
The previous Sea Lord of Braavos had failed to hatch a dragon despite his efforts.
Learning from past mistakes, Ferrego had gathered these practitioners of the arcane at great expense, determined to find a foolproof method.
(End of Chapter)