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Dragonstone.
With the plan to assault King's Landing finalized, Queen Rhaenyra and her vassals on the island threw themselves into full mobilization.
First was Lord Corlys the Sea Snake. His fleet formed the backbone of the queen's campaign. To support her, he emptied his coffers and committed more than thirty warships carrying over a thousand soldiers.
Part of that fleet had already been dispatched to blockade Blackwater Bay, and even his nephew Daemon had been recalled from the rear to join the march on King's Landing.
Next came Lord Bartimos Celtigar of Crab Isle, the Earl of Stone Dance, Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, and the others.
Their combined forces, together with Dragonstone's own garrison, pushed the total past one thousand men.
In other words, after two days of urgent recruitment, Queen Rhaenyra could field more than two thousand troops and over forty warships from Dragonstone alone.
The armies Prince Daemon was mustering at Harrenhal and the scattered Black loyalists across Westeros were not yet counted; otherwise the numbers would have been even greater.
Once the two-day muster ended, Queen Rhaenyra had recovered from the grief of losing her son. Watching the fleets arrive one after another, her ambition to reclaim King's Landing burned brighter than ever.
Her son Viserys had been returned safely, Aegon's wounds were healing, and Joffrey was growing more sensible by the day. Though still young, these three boys were solid heirs who freed her from any fear for the future.
With her ambition surging, the queen began discussing the details of the assault with her Black lords.
The Blacks now possessed five bastard dragonriders plus Queen Rhaenyra's Syrax—six adult dragons in total. Against the Greens, they held overwhelming aerial superiority.
After debate, the council settled on a strategy of dragons and fleet advancing together. All six dragons would take to the sky to dominate the airspace while House Velaryon's warships crossed the Narrow Sea and landed at King's Landing, delivering a crushing blow from both air and sea.
The queen listened to the plan with visible excitement.
She hated the false king Aegon II who sat the Iron Throne and his mother Queen Alicent with a passion that bordered on madness. She wanted to crush them immediately—even though Alicent had once been her closest friend.
When the discussion of arrangements ended, a discordant voice suddenly cut through the hall:
"Your Grace, forgive my bluntness, but appointing the World Devourers' captain Logar as vanguard of this battle—and granting him authority to command the other dragonriders—is truly unwise!"
The hall fell instantly silent. Several Black nobles turned their gazes sharply toward Lord Celtigar.
Celtigar swept his eyes across the room, his tone resolute:
"That boy Logar is nothing more than a bastard of unknown origin, low-born. Even though he broke Lys and rescued Prince Viserys, bestowing such favor upon him is excessive!"
His words drew nods from Ser Alfred Broome, the Earl of Stone Dance, and several others.
They held no personal grudge against Logar; they were simply old-blood nobles who disliked seeing a young upstart rise so quickly above them—especially one who had tamed a dragon.
"Everyone knows bastards lack proper upbringing and are inherently unreliable. Even if Logar appears loyal to Your Grace, we must still guard against him," Lord Celtigar added at the end.
Though the warning sounded alarmist, the nobles exchanged glances and saw the same wariness in one another's eyes.
They guarded the dignity of their ancient houses most jealously. What they feared above all was a mud-footed commoner like Logar suddenly soaring high enough to threaten their own positions.
At that moment a clear, firm voice shattered the chorus of agreement:
"My lords, you are mistaken!"
Everyone turned. Baela had risen from her seat beside the queen. Silver hair gleaming in the candlelight, her sharp eyes fixed on the nobles who questioned Logar.
"Logar may be low-born, yet his achievements are undeniable.
He rescued Prince Viserys and stabilized the Black succession. He has built a mercenary company on the Stepstones that has become an indispensable fighting force for Her Grace.
Even more admirable—he has accomplished all this without a trace of arrogance…
Does such a man not deserve this authority?
My lords fixate on his birth while forgetting that we stand at the decisive moment between Black and Green. In wartime, ability must come before bloodline!"
Baela's words rang like steel. The murmurs in the hall gradually died away.
Queen Rhaenyra sat on the high seat and nodded in firm agreement.
"Baela speaks truly. In chaotic times, the capable shall lead.
Logar's ability and loyalty are plain for me to see. Naming him vanguard and giving him command over the dragonriders was my considered decision. There will be no further debate."
Once the queen had spoken, the nobles—however displeased—dared not openly object.
Only Lord Celtigar still wore a sullen look, but with the queen's decree he had no choice. He merely glanced at Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White seated among them and muttered under his breath, "If you won't listen to me, then wait and see."
Just then a thunderous cheer erupted from Dragonstone's harbor, followed by the crash of waves against hulls and the disciplined shouts of soldiers.
"What's happening?" Lord Celtigar frowned and rose, striding to the window.
The others followed, pushing open the heavy stone shutters to look out over the port.
On the horizon, a fleet was sailing in—more than a dozen warships, modest in number yet perfectly arrayed. Sails blotted the sun; every vessel moved in flawless formation without the slightest disorder.
The soldiers aboard wore uniform gray tunics and trousers, standing ramrod straight. Even from afar, one could feel the elite discipline that radiated from them.
Above the fleet, a savage black dragon circled majestically. Its wings spread wide, eclipsing the sky; its deep roar made the very air tremble.
On the dragon's back stood a tall, commanding figure—Logar in obsidian-black armor, the engraved patterns glinting coldly in the sunlight.
He wore no helm; silver hair whipped wildly in the wind. His gaze swept the scene below with majestic pride.
"It's the Earl of the Stepstones, City Swallower Logar! He has brought the World Devourers!" a soldier on the dock shouted the announcement.
Queen Rhaenyra stood at the window, watching the magnificent fleet approach. A spark of genuine excitement flashed in her eyes as she praised aloud:
"Truly the City Swallower! To raise such an elite force from the barren Stepstones—he is the very courage of our Blacks!"
Beside her, Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White wore expressions as dark as storm clouds.
They too were dragonriders and had always carried themselves with arrogance. Yet seeing the perfectly disciplined, battle-ready army Logar had brought, and remembering that they themselves possessed nothing but their dragons, the two men felt a bitter mix of envy and resentment.
This was the difference between them and Logar. Not only had he tamed a dragon—he was a high lord with real power, commanding a true elite force!
Lord Celtigar watched the fleet draw nearer, feeling the murderous aura rolling off it. A strong sense of awe for the younger generation rose in his chest.
He had to admit: this young bastard had already grown into a presence he could no longer ignore.
Lord Corlys Velaryon, however, stroked his beard with a pleased smile.
He had watched Logar rise from an unknown sellsword to the Black vanguard, watched the World Devourers he built grow stronger every day.
It was like seeing a promising junior he had raised with his own eyes finally bloom into dazzling brilliance.
Under the eyes of the entire island, the World Devourers' warships sounded their horns in a long blast.
Logar guided the Cannibal in a low-altitude pass over every Black vessel outside the harbor—an inspection flight.
The black dragon's shadow and the wind pressure from its wings made every soldier aboard look up in awe.
Only then did he descend before the queen. Leaping down from the dragon's back, Logar pressed his sword hand to his chest and bowed, voice deep and powerful:
"Your Grace, Earl of the Stepstones and Vanguard Logar reports as ordered!
World Devourers—seven hundred and twenty-one men, fifteen warships—stand ready to tear open every defense of King's Landing for you!"
"Excellent! You arrived at the perfect moment, my brave flying horse!"
Queen Rhaenyra personally helped him rise, her gaze filled with admiration. "With your World Devourers, this battle will surely carry me back to King's Landing and place the Iron Throne in my hands!"
At that moment the Black lords on Dragonstone fell completely silent, awed by the neat, elite formation of the World Devourers.
On another warship, new recruit Andrei stood on the deck of a triple-banked galley, face flushed with excitement.
He had joined the World Devourers only recently and was still enduring new-recruit training. He had never imagined he would so soon take part in the great assault on King's Landing.
He knew it was because he had obeyed every rule and passed the harsh selection; otherwise he would have been discarded as trash long ago.
Watching Captain Logar stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the queen on Dragonstone, Andrei clenched his fists, heart burning with the desire to win glory:
"In the coming war for King's Landing, I must perform well and bring honor to Lord City Swallower!"