Chapter 110:Rectification of the Disputed Lands (Part 1)
Essos — Disputed Lands — Dragonfire Basin
Dragonfire Basin was a vast horseshoe-shaped valley located deep within the Disputed Lands. During the , countless soldiers from had been burned alive here by .
From that day forward, the place earned the name Dragonfire Basin.
That brutal war had once turned the entire Disputed Lands into a scorched wasteland. Yet strangely, perhaps nourished by blood and bones, the land recovered quickly—becoming even more fertile than before.
Now, the basin was bustling with activity.
Over the past two months, the Chainbreakers Coalition, led by , had turned the entire Disputed Lands upside down.
Countless remnants of the army had been hunted down and crushed like rabbits. After Tyrosh's fall, most of its forces had splintered into independent factions.
And that fragmentation was exactly what Tyrion exploited—defeating them one by one.
However, as time passed, more and more Tyroshi commanders realized a harsh truth:
Facing Tyrion alone meant certain destruction.
Thus, at the right moment, they gathered their strength—forming a massive coalition army within Dragonfire Basin. And with that, Tyrion's rapid advance was finally halted.
The valley was now filled with endless military tents. Along its perimeter, cavalry and mercenaries patrolled constantly.
At present, nearly half of the Disputed Lands had already fallen into Tyrion's control. If not for his caution toward and , his expansion would have been even more aggressive.
"Come, drink!"
"Hahaha!"
"Victory is ours soon!"
"Long live Tyrosh!"
Inside a massive central war tent, Tyroshi Archons and commanders feasted and drank in celebration.
Lavish carpets from Myr covered the ground, while naked bed slaves served delicacies to the nobles seated at low tables.
Some drunken men, intoxicated by wine and excess, openly harassed the slaves—adding a layer of vulgarity to the already chaotic scene.
At the head sat Archon Yaarl Gira, one of the few remaining powerful leaders of Tyrosh.
Nearly fifty years old, he had dyed his greying hair bright blue, pairing it with a purple beard—an unmistakable mark of Tyroshi nobility.
Beside him sat a military archon from Myr—Byron Jon.
At sixty, Byron was old and occasionally muddle-headed, but his influence in Myr remained unquestionable.
"Hahaha… Durrandon—"
"I am Yaarl Gira, not that unfortunate Storm King of !"
Yaarl Gira corrected him with visible irritation.
Because his name resembled that of the last Storm King of House Durrandon, Byron frequently mixed it up when drunk.
If not for the man's age and status, Yaarl might have already thrown wine in his face.
"Ah, yes, yes… Lord Yaarl," Byron said, waving it off. "A good day indeed. Keep pressing forward—drive away that Targaryen menace. I hear is preparing to send envoys."
"I know," Yaarl replied, his tone tightening. "That is precisely why we need Myr's support. Once we retake Tyrosh, the northern territories will be ceded to you as agreed."
Though confident he could reclaim those lands later, the looming involvement of Braavos unsettled him.
Over the years, Braavos had grown into the most prosperous city in Essos—rivaled only by distant Yi Ti. Known as the "Bastard Daughter of ," its influence stretched far.
and Lorath had effectively become its puppets.
Even and had formed alliances to counter it.
And now, with Jon Snow's abolition of slavery, Braavos would surely support him.
"The glory of Valyria must not be desecrated," Yaarl declared. "We are its inheritors. We cannot allow ancient traditions to be overturned."
"Hahaha! Fear not," Byron replied, raising his cup. "Myr stands with Tyrosh. Our supplies and mercenaries prove our sincerity."
"My lord…"
A servant approached cautiously.
"What is it?" Yaarl snapped.
"Th-that… the Little Devil has arrived…"
At those words, the servant trembled.
By now, had become a figure of terror across the Disputed Lands.
Rumors painted him as a monster—one who devoured a Tyroshi every day, or transformed into a giant during battle.
Ironically, these rumors had originated from Tyroshi propaganda.
But Tyrion had turned them into weapons.
During one siege, his men staged gruesome scenes—mutilating corpses to simulate cannibalism.
The defenders panicked.
In another case, Tyrion tested Kongming Lanterns—a signaling method taught by Jon. Seen at night, the floating lights appeared supernatural, convincing enemies of sorcery.
Combined with sabotage from 's operatives, entire fortresses collapsed in fear.
"W-what!? The Little Devil is here!?"
Yaarl Gira lost composure.
The entire tent fell silent.
"Calm yourselves!" he quickly shouted. "We know what he is. Do not frighten yourselves! Our army is strong enough to crush him. Are you truly afraid of a dwarf?"
His words steadied the room.
Gradually, confidence returned.
"What does he want?" Yaarl asked coldly.
"He… he arrived with Prince Trig Ormollen of Lys. Only one guard accompanies him."
At the mention of Lys, all eyes turned to Byron Jon.
The fragile alliance between the Three Daughters was already strained.
"Oh? Little Trig…" Byron muttered vaguely, clearly drifting again.
No one believed he actually knew the Lysene prince.
"Bring them in," Yaarl ordered. "Let us see what trick this Little Devil intends now."
As the servant departed, the nobles began whispering among themselves.
Relations between Lys and Tyrosh had always been tense.
With their larger population and purer Valyrian bloodlines, the Lyseni had long looked down upon their neighbors.
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