The next day, the guests who had come to celebrate said goodbye and left on their ships.
At the port of Tyrosh, Aemon put his hands behind his back and watched the Myrish ships sail away.
"They're all targets for blackmail."
The people who came to the betrothal ceremony were relatively simple. Almost no one came from Westeros; the Lysenes were too busy fighting among themselves. Only locals from Tyrosh and Myr from the Triarchy attended, plus some nobles and wealthy merchants from other city-states.
Unable to capture the city-state, Aemon planned to make some money. He would blackmail the Myrish people severely, pretending not to participate in the internal conflict of the Triarchy, and simply taking advantage of the chaos to profit.
"Don't you want to stay one more day?" Laena walked over and leaned on his shoulder.
"If you miss me, find me on the Isle of Tarth," Aemon said, hugging her.
Laena shook her head gently. She couldn't leave, as the battle for Tyrosh was imminent. Aemon also had his own things to do; being reluctant to separate would only interfere with each other.
"Wait until the ships are far away before you do anything," Laena said, knowing what he was about to do and stressing it again and again. He couldn't rob them right outside their home.
"Don't worry," Aemon's smile gradually turned devious. He wanted to upset everyone with his actions.
Not long after, the two walked back to Driftwood City hand in hand. Two huge monsters were crawling in the back garden.
Aemon thought for a moment and took off the sapphire amulet around his neck. He called up his personal panel.
[Aemon Targaryen]
Talent: Dreamer (gold)
Bloodline: Ancient Valyrian Dragon Lord (58%)
Skills: Archery (never misses), Riding (top), Swordsmanship (mastered)...
Witchcraft: Binding Spell·Remnant (mastered), Burning Rune (entry), Solid Rune (proficient), Empty Hands (proficient)...
Magic Cards: Strong Body (blue), Solid as a Rock·Intermediate (purple), King's Temperament (purple)
Forces: The Vale (all regions), Isle of Tarth
Equipment: "Lament", "Lady of the Void", War Horn, Double Valyrian Daggers, Sapphire Amulet (2/3), Fire Warlock's Stone Sculpture, Fire Warlock's Night Light
Pets: Golden-nosed Rat (blue), White Deer (auspicious beast)
Evaluation: "The gradually maturing Dragon Lord has not yet mastered a qualified blood witchcraft."
Ignoring the nitpicking in the evaluation, Aemon put the sapphire amulet on Laena's slender neck.
"Aemon, this is your jewelry," Laena was surprised. She knew that Aemon treasured the small gadgets he carried with him. Especially this necklace inlaid with sapphires, which had accompanied him since childhood. He would not take it off even when taking a bath or going to bed.
Aemon put it on her, admired the sapphire hanging down her delicate collarbone, and smiled with satisfaction: "I give it to you. It can protect you."
[Sapphire Amulet]: Provides three magic shields, resisting three high-level magic attacks.
He had used it once, so it could now only resist two attacks. He had the passive defense [Rock Solid·Intermediate], and the sapphire amulet could only serve as a backup. Laena was going to fight, and needed a protective item more than him.
"Aemon, it can protect you too," Laena looked straight at him.
"Keep it," Aemon wouldn't allow her to refuse, and then teased: "I haven't married two wives yet, but I don't want to lose one like the Conqueror."
"Hmm~" Laena's eyes sparkled. She opened her arms and wrapped them around his neck, pulled him down to the same height, and gently bit him.
Aemon was even more eager, biting back fiercely. None of the Targaryens were vegetarians.
It was midday. The sun was scorching, and the blue sea was sparkling.
A fleet of several Myrish governors sailed out of the Tyrosh Sea and was about to enter the Myrish Sea. Suddenly, a small fleet appeared in front of them.
"What's the situation?" A Myrish governor felt something was wrong and shouted to the scout on the observation tower.
"Two large cargo ships, three medium-sized warships, and five small sailing ships," the scout shouted while watching, and his eyes widened suddenly when he pointed his monocular telescope: "It's a ship from the Isle of Tarth, and there's a three-pointed dragon-eagle flag on it!"
As soon as the words fell, the Myrish governor was shocked.
"Signal! What are they stopping us for?"
There were many kinds of ships on the sea, but only a few were commonly used. Cargo ships were large and small, and all long-distance ships were large. The largest warship was medium-sized, and any larger one was not fast enough. Small sailing ships were scout ships, and with rams, they were the vanguards that specialized in attacking the enemy's main ship.
He didn't take a small fleet seriously. But the fleet flying the flag of "Dragon Slayer Aemon" blocked their way, and it was obvious that they were coming with ill intentions.
Woo, woo, woo—
The Myrish fleet echoed with the sound of horns, interweaving various signals. Several Myrish governors and the wealthy merchants accompanying them found something wrong and were on uniform alert.
However, it was useless.
Boom—
Suddenly, the thin clouds were torn apart, and a huge monster swooped down from the sky. The Myrish people looked up at the sound and were completely shocked.
"Dragon!!" "Get out of the way..."
Shouts came one after another, and the clever old sailor immediately fell to the corner of the deck.
"Hiss—"
The next second, the bronze dragon dived down, stretched out a pair of rock-like brown wings, and glided past the sails. In an instant, boom! More than 30 large and small ships shook violently. The big ship almost capsized, and the small ship capsized on the spot.
"Ah!!"
The thick dragon tail swung over a large cargo ship, and in an instant broke the heavy mast, causing the large ship to tilt sharply. It was just a little short of the deck fence being flooded by the sea. With a muffled rumble, the large ship was bounced off by the pressure of the seawater, and a surging wave was set off. Accompanied by screams, many people fell into the water, and a small number of them hit their heads and bled.
"Quiet, Vermithor!" A warm voice sounded, and a silver-gold flash flashed on the back of the dragon.
"Roar!" Vermithor soared into the sky, and a pair of guillotine-like wings cut through the wind resistance and hovered high in the air. At this height, ships at sea couldn't even touch it. Even if a scorpion crossbow was brought out, it couldn't touch a single scale.
"Great Dragon King, we surrender. We have no ill intentions!" The ships below were stable, and the Myrish people who knew High Valyrian hurriedly raised the white flag and shouted. "We surrender!" "Prince, let us go..."
Ignoring their companions struggling in the sea, the Myrish people, from the governor to the sailors, all knelt on the deck and begged for mercy.
"Haha~~" Aemon sneered.
You have no ill will towards me, but I have full ill will towards you.
After a while, the Tarth fleet docked beside the Myrish fleet. The soldiers tied up the Myrish governors and wealthy merchants in gorgeous clothes and drove the sailors to a ship. This behavior is generally called... kidnapping!
"Your Majesty, please be merciful and spare your lives."
Lord Cameron had a cold face and ordered his men to plunder the Myrish cabins. Everything was moved to their own ships, whether it was gold and silver utensils, spices, lace, glass and other goods, as well as female slaves and boys purchased on the way.
His Majesty had said: When a goose passes by, its feathers are plucked, and when a beast leaves, its skin is left. Not even a silver wine pot could be spared.
"Hiss—" Vermithor hovered in the sky, his copper-bright vertical pupils flashing with impatience, wanting to spit out dragon flames to burn everything.
"Stop the war!" Aemon patted the dragon's back and soothed it with the skills of the binding spell. He had ill will towards the Myrish people, which affected Vermithor. Its emotions were easily provoked and often lost their restraint.
"Roar!" Vermithor roared in a low voice, and its copper-bright vertical pupils blinked a few times, returning to its indifference of keeping strangers away.
Aemon smiled lightly. Dragons had different personalities, and there were always warmongers who tended to be violent and bloodthirsty. Vhagar, Vermithor and Caraxes were all typical. To some extent, the worse the dragon's personality, the higher its talent and combat effectiveness.
Vermithor would be furious for no reason, but fortunately, he had a way to soothe it. The incomplete version of the binding spell and the repaired war horn could ensure that the dragon did not lose control.
"But it's not enough." Aemon's eyes were deep. There were a thousand dragons in the peak period of ancient Valyria, so how could there not be some dragons with a violent nature? The dragon horn was said to be able to control dragons, but it was a treasure that would not be easily moved. Ordinary dragon kings should have better dragon-controlling skills.
"Roar!" Vermithor roared, slowly circling over the open sea, and confining the ships below like a shepherd.
The kidnapping of the Myrish people was perfectly implemented. Lord Cameron kidnapped all the high-ranking officials, killed the sailors and servants, and freed up a ship to let the butlers and guards and other attendants go. The ransom conditions were made public.
For a Myrish governor, the price was his weight in gold, and a ship of spices, lace, glass panes and other finished products.
For a wealthy businessman, the price was his weight in gold.
For a slave owner or mercenary, the price was all his slaves and 800 golden dragons.
The price was fair, and no one was cheated.
Lord Cameron stared at him with his eyes wide open, threatening: "I will only give you one month to send the ransom to the Isle of Tarth, otherwise!" The next moment, he chopped off the head of a mercenary with a sword.
The people who were released did not dare to neglect and fled frantically in a small sailboat. They were protected by only a few mercenaries and did not even have a formal fleet. Even if they did, the other side had an adult dragon!
At the beginning, there were mercenaries with unruly personalities who wanted to resist, but they were burned into ashes by the copper-like dragon flame, causing the entire warship to sink into the sea. In the vast ocean, the fleet had nowhere to escape. They could only become the dragon's playthings. Especially the adult dragons with thick scales that even scorpion crossbows could not penetrate. It was like calling the roll: whoever was called would die.
Time passed in a flash, and half a month passed. Myrish ships crossed the strait and delivered ransom to redeem people. Several Myrish governors had disheveled hair and were almost unrecognizable. The slave owners were even worse. They worked hard every day and were in a trance when they were redeemed.
There were even worse ones. Some wealthy businessmen and mercenaries were not redeemed and continued to be locked up in the dungeon for a full month.
"Your Majesty, should the goods be shipped back to Gulltown or King's Landing?" Lord Cameron asked loyally.
"Leave the gold, give the spice lace to Rhaenyra, and ask someone to sell the rest in King's Landing," Aemon said, standing on the beach, watching the ships sail away after the ransom.
One group left, another group came. The Lysenes, Tyroshi, and even Volantines. As long as there was maritime trade near the Stepstones, they were all robbed by him.
The Stepstones conquered by Daemon were taken away by the Triarchy. His Highness was avenging his father and retaliating against all ships that had close dealings with the Triarchy. When the former Tyrosh Grand Lord handed over the Stepstones, the revenge would stop. If they didn't, they could come to Tarth. Aemon wanted to see how powerful the Triarchy was back then, or how hot the dragon flames of "Bronze Fury" were.
Lord Cameron obeyed the order and stepped back to arrange the ransom.
"Why is there no movement in the Stepstones?" Aemon muttered in a low voice. He did this, firstly to make money, and secondly to claim the legitimacy of the Stepstones. The occupation of the Stepstones would be more or less legitimate. Unfortunately, the former Tyrosh Grand Lord seemed to be dead. He had not responded and seemed not to be paying attention to the outside news.
In fact, the former Tyrosh Grand Lord was indeed dead.
Stepstones.
Bloodstone Island, Dragonblood Castle.
The head of the former Tyrosh Grand Lord was stuck on a spear and hung on the top of Dragonblood Keep.
"Take back Tyrosh and drive away the sea snakes of Velaryon!" "..."
A large number of mercenaries boarded the warships and swarmed in all directions. No matter whether it was a counterattack on Tyrosh, they could no longer stay in the barren Stepstones Islands.
Mercenaries had no loyalty; they only pursued gold and beauty.
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