The Afterglow of a Golden Age Beneath the Red Walls
The morning light in Meereen always carried a hint of warmth; the red city walls glowed amber under the rising sun, a stark contrast to the bitter cold of the North. Lord Illyrio stood on the port's watchtower, clutching the economic report Tyrion had sent. His fingertips traced the words "ample grain reserves" and "caravan numbers doubled," and he finally breathed a sigh of relief. For the past three months, they had walked a tightrope to stabilize this city—the labor vacuum left after the liberation of slaves, the covert sabotage by lingering slave-owner factions, and the disruption of spice trade routes. Each problem was like a chain around their necks, but now, the numbers on the report finally proved that these chains were being broken one by one.
"Lord Illyrio!" came the shout from below, from Hassan, the head shipwright. He held up a blueprint, waving his hand on the dock. "The keel for the improved warship you requested is complete. Would you like to come down and see it?"
Lord Illyrio descended the spiral staircase of the watchtower, the gravel crunching softly under his boots. The port was a hive of activity: ten newly built warships lined the berths, workmen applying fire-resistant pitch to their hulls, the black pitch gleaming in the sun. Sailors, ropes slung over their shoulders, moved across the decks, their shouts mingling with the sound of waves slapping against the ship's planks. In the distance, several merchant ships laden with spices slowly entered the harbor, Daenerys's black dragon banner flying from their masts—these were merchants from the Free Cities who, after Tyrion lowered tariffs, finally dared to venture into Meereen's waters again.
Hassan spread the blueprint on a makeshift wooden board, pointing to the lines. "As you requested, we've made the hull pointed, which will increase speed by thirty percent when sailing the Narrow Sea. We've added three layers of planks to both sides of the hull and embedded iron plates to defend against ordinary arrow volleys. On the uppermost deck, we've left five spaces for the 'catapults' you mentioned; we've already prepared the mounting points."
Lord Illyrio crouched, his finger tracing the lines of the keel. This was a design Lord Illyrio had modified based on ancient warship blueprints he had seen before his transmigration—a pointed hull for deep-sea navigation, multi-layered planks for enhanced defense, and pre-reserved catapult positions to counter the Iron Islands fleet they might encounter during the sea crossing (intelligence reported Euron still roaming the Narrow Sea). "Excellent," Lord Illyrio nodded. "Speed it up. Daenerys hopes to complete twenty warships within half a month. We don't have much time left."
Hassan's face showed a troubled expression. "We're running a bit low on timber. The nearby forests have been largely cleared. If we cut any more, the rainy season might trigger flash floods."
Lord Illyrio looked up at the distant mountains, covered in dense forests, Meereen's main source of timber. "Send men to Yunkai to transport it," Lord Illyrio said. "Yunkai has ample forest reserves. Have them trade timber for our grain—Tyrion said last week that Yunkai's grain reserves would only last a month; they will agree."
Just as he spoke, Tyrion's figure appeared at the dock entrance. He wore a dark blue silk robe, holding a rolled parchment, a familiar playful smile on his face. "My 'wise mentor,' still pondering your warships? Care to hear the good news I bring?"
He walked over to Lord Illyrio and handed him the parchment. "This is intelligence from King's Landing. Cersei has used all the gold Tywin left to hire the Golden Company. It's said five thousand vanguards have already arrived and are now stationed on the edge of Slaver's Bay, about three days' journey from us."
Lord Illyrio unrolled the parchment. The handwriting was from their spy in King's Landing, accompanied by a simple map marking the Golden Company vanguard's position. "Five thousand men," Lord Illyrio frowned. "What's their equipment like? Do they have cavalry?"
"Mostly infantry, equipped with iron spears and shields, no cavalry," Tyrion said. "But they have twenty catapults and brought a lot of wildfire—Cersei probably intends to burn Meereen before we cross the sea."
Lord Illyrio looked at the warships in the harbor, calculating. Twenty warships were not yet complete, the main force of the Unsullied was still maintaining order within Meereen, and while the Dothraki Riders were brave, they lacked experience fighting a regular army like the Golden Company. If the Golden Company attacked now, they could win, but it would definitely delay the sea crossing plan—and according to Sam's message from The Citadel...
The Shadow of the Golden Company and Fleet Preparations
At the peak of the midday sun, Lord Illyrio arrived at Meereen's port. Three hundred warships were neatly lined up at the dock, their hulls painted dark black, black banners flying from their masts, the three-headed dragon on the banners fluttering in the wind. The Unsullied were busy transporting weapons and provisions, while the Dothraki Riders trained at the edge of the dock, their horses' hooves making a rhythmic "thump-thump" on the flagstones.
"Lord Illyrio!" Fleet Commander Grol, a former Free Cities captain who had defected to Daenerys due to dissatisfaction with the slave owners' oppression, hurried over. "The armor for the last five warships has been installed, and the hulls have been coated with anti-corrosion pitch. They are ready to depart at any time."
Lord Illyrio followed Grol onto a main ship. The catapults on the deck had been debugged, and piles of stones wrapped in pitch oil lay beside them—these were weapons he had improved based on the "wildfire principle." Although not as powerful as wildfire, they were safer and suitable for use on warships. "What is the range of the catapults?" Lord Illyrio asked, his fingers tracing the wooden frame of a catapult.
"They can reach two hundred paces with a tailwind, and one hundred and fifty paces against the wind," Grol replied. "We've also assigned ten archers to each ship, all specially trained in naval archery."
Lord Illyrio nodded and walked to the ship's rail, watching the busy soldiers below. He recalled the intelligence received three days prior—twenty Golden Company warships had already left Tyrosh and were heading towards Slaver's Bay, aiming to intercept their fleet. "Grol," Lord Illyrio's voice deepened slightly, "do you have a way to prevent the fleet from being discovered while sailing at night? For example, by covering the ship lights with black cloth, or by following a route with many reefs."
Grol frowned, pondering for a moment before saying, "The reef route is too risky; a ship would sink immediately if it hit a reef. But covering the ship lights with black cloth is a good idea. We could also have the sailors use reed pipes to breathe, reducing the sound of the ships moving. Additionally, I know a secret route near Lys that only local old sailors know; the Golden Company men certainly won't be familiar with it."
"Let's use that method," Lord Illyrio patted Grol's shoulder. "Have the fleet prepare tonight and depart at dawn tomorrow. We must leave before the Golden Company reaches Meereen; we cannot let them trap us in the harbor."
After Grol left to carry out the order, Lord Illyrio leaned against the ship's rail and pulled a dragon scale from his pocket—a scale Drogon had shed, its edges still carrying a faint scent of dragonflame. He remembered what Daenerys had said yesterday in the council hall: "Lord Illyrio, I know this sea crossing is dangerous, but we have no retreat. The people of Westeros are still suffering, and Cersei's tyranny must end."
At that time, he had replied, "Your Majesty, I will bring you safely to Dragonstone, help you unite all the forces that can be united, and let the Targaryen banner fly again on the walls of King's Landing."
Now, looking at the dragon scale in his hand, he felt even more resolute—not only to revive the Targaryen dynasty but also to stop the Night King's eternal winter. Sam's letter clearly stated, "dragonflame can destroy the bodies of Others." Daenerys's three dragons were key to fighting the Night King. They must return to Westeros as soon as possible and unite with Jon and Sansa, otherwise, once the Night King breaches the Wall, the entire world will be frozen.
"Lord Illyrio!" Daario rode his horse to the dock. His black leather armor was dusty, clearly having just come from the training grounds outside the city. "The Second Sons soldiers have assembled. Everyone is willing to cross the sea with you. Also, I captured a Golden Company scout outside the city. He confessed that Mero, the Golden Company leader, plans to raid our rear—which is Meereen's granary—when we cross the sea."
Lord Illyrio's eyes turned cold. The Golden Company wanted to destroy their supply lines, leaving them homeless at sea. "What is the security situation at the granary?" he asked.
"Only fifty Unsullied guards, it's indeed weak," Daario replied. "I've already sent two hundred Second Sons soldiers to reinforce it, but Mero has five thousand men; our numbers might not be enough."
Lord Illyrio thought for a moment and suddenly remembered the civilian patrol teams he had trained in Meereen—those who were once slaves could now take up arms to defend their homes. "Go notify the civilian patrol teams and have them assist the Unsullied in guarding the granary," Lord Illyrio said. "Tell them that Mero is an accomplice of the slave owners, and if the granary is burned, everyone in Meereen will starve. They will fight desperately for their families."
Daario's eyes lit up. "That's a good idea! Those commoners hate the slave owners, they definitely won't let the Golden Company succeed. I'll go do it now!"
Watching Daario's receding figure, Lord Illyrio looked out at the sea again. The distant horizon merged with the sky, a faint gray tint within the blue—that was the direction from which the Golden Company warships would soon arrive. But he no longer worried, because he knew that not only did they have Daenerys's dragons and the Unsullied, but also the common people of Meereen, and the distant Jon and Sansa. They were all fighting for the same goal: to break tyranny and protect their homes.
Dragonwing Messages and Multiple Intelligence Streams
As evening fell, Meereen began to cool, the wind carrying a hint of sea salt. Lord Illyrio arrived at Daenerys's palace. In the palace courtyard, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserys were sprawled on the ground, basking in the sun. Seeing Lord Illyrio approach, Viserys was the first to rise, rubbing his head against his hand—ever since Lord Illyrio had bandaged Viserys when he was injured, the young dragon had been especially affectionate towards him.
"Lord Illyrio, you're here," Daenerys emerged from the palace, wearing a red robe with a belt adorned with the Targaryen sigil. "Is Viserys ready?"
Lord Illyrio nodded, pulling two letters from his pocket, one for Jon and one for Sansa. He rolled the letters into tight scrolls, sealed them with wax, and then carefully tied them around Viserys's neck—where the scales were softest, so as not to chafe the young dragon. "The letters detail our sea crossing plan and the movements of the Golden Company, to warn Jon and Sansa to be vigilant. Additionally, I mentioned the use of dragonflame against the Others, so they can prepare pitch oil and wildfire in advance."
Daenerys stroked Viserys's head, and the little dragon let out a low purr. "Viserys, you must deliver this letter safely," Daenerys said softly, a hint of worry in her voice.
Illyrio patted Viserys's wing: "He will. Viserys is smarter than we think; he can avoid the Golden Company's warships and find his way north." After he finished speaking, he blew the silver whistle he carried – this was a signal he had specially trained Viserys for; when the whistle sounded, the little dragon knew it was time to depart.
Viserys let out a clear dragon roar, spread his wings, and soared into the sky. He circled the palace once, then flew north, his red silhouette quickly disappearing into the afterglow of the setting sun. Daenerys watched the little dragon fly away and sighed softly: "I hope Jon will trust us, and I hope the people of the North will accept the Targaryens."
"They will," Illyrio said, walking to Daenerys's side. "Jon is of House Stark and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch; he knows the Night King is the greatest threat. To fight the Night King, he must unite with us. As for the people of the North, they hate Cersei and the Lannisters, not the Targaryens—The Mad King's mistakes should not be borne by you."
Daenerys nodded, her gaze becoming firm again. "The fleet departs at dawn tomorrow. Let's go check on the soldiers' preparations."
The two walked side by side towards the port, and soldiers along the way, seeing them, stopped and bowed. Illyrio noticed that there was no fear in the eyes of these soldiers, only trust—whether Unsullied, Dothraki Riders, or the common people of Meereen, they all believed Daenerys could bring them a better future, and they believed Illyrio could lead them to win this war.
Upon arriving at the port, Tyrion was discussing the route with Grol. Seeing Daenerys and Illyrio approach, Tyrion smiled and waved: "Your Majesty, Lord Illyrio, we have just finalized the route—departing at dawn tomorrow, following Lys's secret route, avoiding the Golden Company's vanguard, and expecting to arrive at Dragonstone in ten days."
"Will the nobles of Lys intercept us?" Daenerys asked.
"No," Tyrion shook his head. "The nobles of Lys are currently busy fighting Tyrosh for spice trade rights and don't have time for us. Moreover, my informants say that the nobles of Lys are secretly very afraid of your dragons, and even if they see our fleet, they wouldn't dare to act rashly."
Illyrio added: "I also had Daario take five hundred Second Sons soldiers to Lys's secret port in advance to meet us. If an emergency arises, Daario's men can buy us time."
Daenerys nodded with satisfaction: "Very good. Now, we just need to wait for tomorrow's departure time."
That night, Illyrio did not return to his room but stayed in the command tower at the port. The command tower's window faced the fleet, and he watched the warships below, reviewing all his plans in his mind: crossing the Narrow Sea, occupying Dragonstone, uniting with Dorne, containing Cersei, heading north to rendezvous with Jon, and fighting the Night King... Every step was fraught with risk, but every step had to be taken.
At midnight, Ago suddenly knocked and entered, holding a piece of intelligence: "Lord Illyrio, the Golden Company scout confessed that Mero not only wanted to raid the granary but also had connections with the remaining slave masters of Meereen—those slave masters are hiding in caves outside the city, planning to launch a rebellion after we depart and overthrow our rule in Meereen."
Illyrio's eyes darkened. He hadn't expected that the slave masters of Meereen hadn't given up and had actually colluded with the Golden Company. "Have you found the location of the caves?" he asked.
"Yes, on Black Stone Mountain west of the city," Ago replied. "The terrain there is treacherous, easy to defend and difficult to attack. There are about three hundred slave masters, all equipped with bows and arrows."
Illyrio thought for a moment, picked up the map on the table, and drew a circle on Black Stone Mountain: "You take two hundred Unsullied, and ten jars of clay pot explosives, and set off tonight. First, use the explosives to blow open the entrance of the caves, then rush in and wipe out those slave masters in one fell swoop. Remember, leave no survivors, lest they leak our plans."
After Ago left to carry out the order, Illyrio walked to the window, looking in the direction of the west of the city. He knew that tonight's operation had to succeed, otherwise, if the slave masters launched a rebellion, it would not only destroy Meereen's order but also delay their crossing time, giving the Golden Company a chance to catch up with their fleet.
At dawn, Ago returned, stained with blood but smiling: "Lord Illyrio, the mission is complete! All the slave masters have been eliminated, and the caves have been destroyed. No one will rebel again."
Illyrio breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at the sky outside the window—the eastern sky was already turning a fish-belly white, and it was time for the fleet to depart.
IV. Oath-taking before the Crossing and dragonflame Departure
As the first rays of morning sun illuminated the port, Daenerys, Illyrio, Tyrion, Daario, and Grol stood on the main ship's deck, looking at the assembled soldiers below. Three hundred warships had already hoisted their sails; Unsullied, Dothraki Riders, Second Sons soldiers, and civilian volunteers from Meereen stood neatly on their respective warships, awaiting the order to depart.
Daenerys walked to the ship's rail, her voice amplified by a bronze horn, echoing across the entire port: "My warriors, my people! Today, we leave Meereen, cross the Narrow Sea, and return to our homeland—Westeros! There are our kin, our lands, and people waiting for us to save! Cersei's tyranny has lasted too long, the Lannister lions have devoured too many innocent lives, and now, it is time for them to pay the price!"
The soldiers let out a thunderous cheer, their voices drowning out the sound of the waves. Daenerys continued: "I know this crossing will be dangerous. The Golden Company's warships are waiting for us, Cersei's armies are waiting for us, and there are even more terrifying enemies—the Night King's eternal winter. But I believe that as long as we are united, as long as we have the power of dragonflame, as long as we remember the meaning of freedom, we will surely win this war!"
She raised her sword, its blade gleaming silver in the sunlight: "For freedom! For our homeland! For the future of Westeros! Depart!"
"For freedom! For our homeland!" The soldiers' cheers rose again, and Grol loudly ordered: "Hoist the sails! Fleet, depart!"
Three hundred warships sailed out of the port in sequence, their sails unfurling in the wind like giant black wings. Illyrio stood on the deck, watching Meereen's red city walls gradually recede, but felt no reluctance—because he knew they would surely return, bringing victory and peace, to this city liberated by dragonflame.
Tyrion walked to Illyrio's side and handed him a cup of pomegranate wine: "My friend, we have finally departed. Tell me, how long until we see Jon Snow?"
Illyrio took the wine cup, looking at the distant horizon: "We'll arrive at Dragonstone in ten days, then send envoys to the North; we should see Jon in about half a month. However, before that, we must first deal with the Golden Company's trouble—Mero won't let us go easily."
No sooner had he spoken than a lookout in the distance suddenly shouted: "Lord! Golden Company warships sighted ahead! About ten of them!"
Illyrio and Tyrion immediately went to the lookout tower and picked up their telescopes—on the distant sea, ten warships flying the Golden Company flag were rapidly approaching them, and archers on their gunwales were already ready to fire.
"Grol, have the fleet change course, and move closer to Lys's secret route!" Illyrio ordered. "Daario, have the Second Sons' warships cover the rear, attack the Golden Company's warships with catapults, and don't let them get close to the main fleet!"
Grol and Daario immediately acted; the fleet quickly changed course, and ten Second Sons warships broke away from the main fleet, heading towards the Golden Company's warships. Flaming oil stones thrown by the catapults landed on the Golden Company's warships, instantly igniting raging fires; Golden Company soldiers screamed and jumped into the sea, only to be frozen by the icy water.
The Golden Company's warships tried to retaliate, but unfamiliar with the nearby waters, two of their ships accidentally hit reefs and sank. The remaining eight warships, seeing the disadvantage, turned and fled, quickly disappearing beyond the horizon.
Illyrio put down his telescope, relieved. Tyrion smiled and patted his shoulder: "It seems Mero's 'deterrence tactics' are nothing special."
"This is just the beginning," Illyrio shook his head. "Mero surely has other tricks up his sleeve; we cannot be careless."
He walked to the ship's rail, looking at the water below. Sunlight pierced through the water, illuminating the underwater reefs, which guarded this secret route like teeth. He thought of Viserys, of Jon and Sansa, of Sam's research at The Citadel, and of the Night King's army of ice crystals—all the clues were converging in one direction, all the forces preparing for an ultimate showdown.
Daenerys walked to Illyrio's side, looking at Drogon and Rhaegal circling in the sky—Viserys had already gone north, and these two little dragons would accompany them until they reached Dragonstone. "Illyrio," Daenerys's voice was soft but firm, "no matter what difficulties we encounter, we will face them together."
Illyrio looked into Daenerys's eyes, which were filled with hope and trust. He nodded: "Your Majesty, I will always be with you, until you sit on the iron throne, until Westeros is at peace."
The fleet continued to sail deeper into the Narrow Sea; the salty sea breeze blew across their faces, and the warm sunlight bathed the deck. Illyrio leaned against the ship's rail, holding Drogon's dragon scale in his hand, filled with confidence—he knew this journey across the Narrow Sea would not be easy, but as long as they were united, as long as the dragonflame still burned, they would surely achieve their goal, let the glory of the Targaryens re-illuminate the lands of the Seven Kingdoms, and ensure that eternal winter would never come.