Chapter 139: The Bloody Civil War of Tyrosh
Rhaegar walked the streets of Tyrosh, codenamed Justin the Piper.
Tyrosh is a fortress city protected by high walls, located at the northeasternmost tip of the Stepstones. Its black inner walls are magnificent and grand, possessing a strong Old Valyrian style. Unfortunately, the Targaryen family knows little about these techniques, not even the fundamentals. Many of the Dragonlords had long lost the deeper knowledge of Valyrian craft, and even the royal line retained only fragments of that legacy. When Rhaegar sees Tyrosh, he always thinks of Sunspear in Dorne on the peninsula; the two cities are quite close. However, Tyrosh is much larger and livelier. The Dornish voluntarily gave up much of their naval strength, and Sunspear became more land-oriented; otherwise, Dorne's capital might not have been inferior to Tyrosh. The relationship between the Dornish and the Tyroshi is also very close; in earlier years, many children of Tyroshi Archons were fostered in Dorne's Water Gardens.
The Tyroshi are known worldwide for their flamboyance, boldness, and greed. Rhaegar's blue attire did not stand out much here. He merely appeared younger, more handsome, and more vibrant than most.
Rhaegar scanned the streets of Tyrosh. Religious freedom prevails here, as it does in all the Free Cities, except for more rigid places like Norvos and Qohor. The Three-Headed God of Tyrosh resides in a tower with three turrets; one head devours the dead, another gives birth to life, while the meaning of the third remains obscure. Besides this god, there are also followers of the Red God, R'hllor.
The Red Priests ignited sacred flames, chanting loudly as they prayed. Their red robes were trimmed with patterns of golden fire. Their prayers spoke of light against darkness, warmth against the cold, guidance through the Long Night, and salvation from monsters lurking in the dark.
Rhaegar had little interest in such beliefs. He was already resistant to magic, so faith held little meaning for him. Whether it was the Three-Headed God, the Seven, R'hllor, or the Black Goat of Qohor, he viewed them all with equal indifference.
Instead, Rhaegar was more interested in finding Dragonseeds of Targaryen blood in Tyrosh, and searching for traces of the Blackfyre line. Daemon Blackfyre's wife had been Rohanne of Tyrosh, a noblewoman of a powerful family. After Daemon Blackfyre was slain by his half-brother on the Redgrass Field, the surviving Blackfyres fled across the Narrow Sea, settling in the Free Cities.
Rohanne had borne many children—seven sons and several daughters—and most had lived to adulthood, which was rare for the time. With such numbers, the Blackfyre line could never truly vanish. Rhaegar did not believe they were extinct; somewhere, the Blackfyre bloodline still endured—and with it, perhaps the ancestral sword Blackfyre itself.
However, his striking appearance brought constant trouble. Mercenary companies and pleasure houses alike tried to recruit him. His youth, looks, and apparent agility made him seem better suited to the life of a sellsword than a wandering musician.
The pleasure houses were even more direct—claiming that with his face alone, even if mute, he would become their greatest attraction.
Rhaegar found them irritating. Those who were polite were ignored; those who were rude were beaten down without hesitation. Soon, rumors spread through Tyrosh of a handsome but dangerous wandering piper.
Still, Tyrosh was descending into chaos, and few cared about such rumors.
Rhaegar eventually commissioned a silver mask and wore it. Tyroshi smiths were skilled craftsmen, capable of forging intricate and extravagant designs. The mask fit well—both practical and symbolic.
The Silver Piper. The Silver Fool. The Silver Flash of Tyrosh.
Perhaps Shireen might recognize him, but she had not appeared—likely occupied with greater matters.
As Rhaegar walked, the city's divisions became clearer. Mercenaries roamed everywhere, and clashes between factions broke out frequently.
"Lies! All lies! The treaty is false, the peace is false! The Archon has sold the Stepstones to Westeros! He fears dragons and fire—he is no true Archon of Tyrosh!" roared a fat slave trader with a forked blue beard before a temple of the Three-Headed God.
"Rubbish! Have you forgotten how Lys undermined us in trade wars? And now you want alliance? Peace is better! The Stepstones are barren—only pirates and slavers care for them!" another man retorted.
"You defend Westeros? Traitor!"
"You're the fool!"
The two began fighting immediately.
Rhaegar observed calmly. Slave traders, pirates, and mercenaries favored war—they thrived in chaos. Merchants, however, preferred stability and trade routes. For them, it was better for Westeros to control the Stepstones than for Lys and Myr to interfere.
Soon, Tyrosh descended into open conflict. Fights, riots, assassinations, and kidnappings spread throughout the city, fueled by Lyseni and Myrish interference.
Rhaegar looked up at the sky. It felt as if the entire city had been stained red.
"War! War! We want war!"
Near the Fountain of the Wine God, a massive procession surged toward the Archon's palace.
Rhaegar stood among the crowd, watching silently. A movement of this scale meant the situation had already spiraled beyond control.
At the front stood Governor Dario, a senior magister and a leading opponent of the Archon. His blue forked beard and bright robes made him impossible to miss. Each of his shouts stirred the crowd into frenzy.
Behind him gathered supporters—magisters, merchants, mercenary captains, and slave traders. Even agents from Lys and Myr could be spotted among them.
The elections of Tyrosh were infamous for corruption. Wealthy backers gambled on candidates, investing heavily for power. Now, with foreign gold flowing in, Dario had risen again.
"Brother, why not shout a bit? They're paying," a mercenary beside Rhaegar whispered.
"No," Rhaegar replied calmly. "This won't end easily."
"The Archon's guard is coming!"
At once, many onlookers scattered, leaving only the core supporters.
A force of several hundred guards advanced, clad in bright armor and armed with swords and crossbows. These were the Archon's personal troops, loyal only to him.
"Disperse immediately!" the captain shouted.
The guards formed a shield wall and pushed forward.
Governor Dario showed no fear. He stripped off his outer robe, revealing armor beneath. The mercenaries behind him stepped forward as well.
The moment before bloodshed had arrived.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 40+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics