With the World Devourers' arrival at Dragonstone, the Black army's full muster was finally complete.
The harbor was packed wall-to-wall with warships, barely any water visible between the hulls. Soldiers stood rigid along the rails like a forest of spears, eyes sharp and radiating cold, murderous intent.
Queen Rhaenyra stood on the high pier, gazing out at the magnificent sight of her assembled forces. Excitement surged in her chest.
She had already sent word to Prince Daemon at Harrenhal, briefing him on the detailed plan to march on King's Landing.
No more hesitation. She swung onto Syrax and gave the order in a ringing voice:
"All forces—move out! Target: King's Landing!"
At the queen's command, the Black fleet weighed anchor. Wave after wave of ships surged out of the harbor, heading straight for the capital in a massive, unstoppable column.
Lord Corlys the Sea Snake, Lord Celtigar, the Earl of Stone Dance, Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, and the rest—all in full armor—led their vessels right behind the main force.
Logar rode the Cannibal at the front, flanked by Nettles on Sheepstealer and Addam on Sea Smoke. The three dragons rose slowly into the sky, their wings blotting out the sun.
Hugh Hammer on Vermithor and Ulf the White on Silverwing followed a beat behind.
They knew that as long as the Blacks won this war, the rewards would be rich. Swallowing their resentment at being under Logar's command, they grimly joined the formation.
Including Queen Rhaenyra's Syrax, six adult dragons glided low over the fleet. Their roars shook the heavens, instantly boosting the Black soldiers' morale to its peak.
Every man clenched his fists, utterly convinced that with six dragons overhead they could take the royal city without spilling a single drop of blood.
On another elegantly decorated warship, Lara Rogare stood at the railing, her eyes following the six circling dragons with burning intensity.
She wore a dark traveling gown, the sea wind tugging at her skirts. Behind her, the towering figure of Sandoq the Shadow stood like a silent guardian, never leaving her side.
Logar had wanted to leave her safely on the Stepstones, but Lara had insisted on coming. She claimed she wanted to witness the final decisive battle between Black and Green with her own eyes.
Of course, she had other plans in mind.
The civil war among the Three Daughters was intensifying, and Lys grew more unstable by the day. House Rogare's banking interests were bound to take a hit.
Only by helping Logar plant deep roots in Westeros and seizing enough profit from this Black-Green war could her family secure greater opportunities across the Narrow Sea.
Logar had no idea about her calculations—and even if he did, he wouldn't have cared.
He had his own plans. In this war he intended to seize not only gold and treasure but people—skilled craftsmen and common folk alike—and bring them back to the Stepstones to bolster his labor force. He had no intention of fighting for the Blacks for free.
In his view, once Rhaenyra took King's Landing, chaos would follow on an even larger scale. Displaced talent and civilians would scatter everywhere. This war was the perfect chance for him to rapidly expand his own power.
The six dragons roared in unison, soaring high into the sky. Below them, the massive fleet formed an unstoppable army surging at full speed toward King's Landing.
...
Red Keep, King's Landing.
The pale-red stone walls rose imposingly, seven iron-topped drum towers piercing the sky. The thick fortifications protected the royal palace like an iron shell. Deep inside the throne room, the Iron Throne sat waiting.
Right now, an urgent small council meeting was underway in the Red Keep's council chamber.
Aemond Targaryen sat in the regent's seat as Protector of the Realm, ruling in place of the wounded Aegon II. His single eye gleamed with cold ruthlessness.
Beside him stood Ser Criston Cole, the Hand of the King and former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard—tall, proud, and full of vigor.
On either side sat Larys Strong the Master of Whisperers, Tyland Lannister the Master of Coin, Jasper Wylde the Master of Laws, Grand Maester Orwyle, and the others. The atmosphere was heavy and tense.
Aemond rapped his knuckles on the table and got straight to the point.
"Daemon the traitor has already gathered Black loyalists from the Riverlands, the Vale, and the North at Harrenhal. He'll march on King's Landing any day now. My lords, how should we respond?"
Before anyone else could speak, Criston Cole rose at once, voice booming.
"Your Grace, Daemon's position is still shaky. This is our chance to strike first—send the army immediately and crush him before he can catch his breath!"
His hatred for the Blacks ran bone-deep, and he was eager to prove his loyalty to Aemond. His tone left no room for compromise.
Killing intent flared brighter in Aemond's eye.
Daemon wasn't just his uncle—he was his mortal enemy. Eliminating Daemon and seizing Harrenhal had become his most urgent obsession.
He nodded repeatedly, ready to give the order, when the usually silent Larys Strong suddenly spoke.
"Your Grace, our spies on the Stepstones report that the islands have been seized by a man calling himself Sea Burner Logar. It is said he has tamed a dragon and joined the Blacks."
The council chamber erupted in murmurs.
They had never heard of this Sea Burner Logar before, but they knew Dragonstone already housed several dragons. It was not impossible for the Blacks to have gained another dragonrider.
Grand Maester Orwyle stood with deep concern. "Your Grace, this is no small matter.
The Blacks already had dragons. Adding another rider greatly increases their strength. We should first strengthen King's Landing's defenses, prepare contingencies, and only then march on Harrenhal."
He feared new variables in the war, but he had no idea the Blacks hadn't gained just one additional dragonrider—they now had six. Nor did he suspect that the Blacks were about to throw everything they had at King's Landing itself.
Aemond's silver eye turned icy. His hatred for Daemon still outweighed everything, but news of another Black dragon made him slightly more cautious.
After a moment's thought, he said gravely, "Daemon remains our greatest immediate threat. I will not rest easy until he is dead. However, we cannot leave King's Landing completely undefended."
Opinions were divided. Jasper Wylde looked hesitant. Larys Strong kept his head down in silence. Only Tyland Lannister remained calm.
Ever since Aemond became regent, he ruled with absolute authority. No one dared risk angering him with the wrong words.
Finally Tyland spoke. "Your Grace, striking first is wise, but we cannot pull every soldier out of King's Landing. We should leave a portion behind to defend the city while we wait for House Baratheon from Storm's End to arrive."
Lord Borros Baratheon of Storm's End had already pledged to the Greens and was gathering an army of over six thousand men—a formidable force.
With support from Oldtown and the Lannisters of the West, the Greens held a strong position.
"Waiting for the Baratheons will take too long," Aemond cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. "Ser Tyland, I order you to remain in King's Landing. Keep five hundred loyal men plus the Gold Cloaks to defend the city. Add two hundred elite Hightower troops to guard the gates and the Blackwater shoreline.
We still have some wildfire stored in the city vaults. Deploy it at the harbor forts. If any small Black force dares approach, use the wildfire to scare them off.
The rest of the main army will march north with me to Harrenhal. We will kill Daemon and punish every rebel lord!"
His mind was made up. Only because of the rumor about Logar did he add this minimal defense as a precaution.
First, Blackwater Bay was blockaded by the Sea Snake's fleet, so Green intelligence was severely limited—they had no idea the Blacks had gained five new dragonriders through the Sowing of the Seeds.
Second, in Aemond's view, the Black main force was with Daemon at Harrenhal. Any attack on King's Landing would be nothing more than a minor nuisance. The troops and wildfire he was leaving behind should be more than enough to handle any surprises.
Criston Cole immediately bowed. "Your Grace is wise! I volunteer to march with you and swear to crush the rebels to the last man!"
In the end, Aemond gave the order. The army would march north to Harrenhal.
Though Tyland Lannister felt uneasy, he told himself he was overthinking it.
Following Aemond's commands, he began inventorying the wildfire and organizing the defense force, treating it as preparation against possible harassment.
He had no idea that a full-scale assault on the city was already bearing down on King's Landing.
Soon the gates of King's Landing swung open. Aemond and Criston Cole led four thousand men marching north along the Kingsroad.
The army consisted mostly of infantry—the full force Aemond had rebuilt after the Battle of Rook's Rest. He took the bulk of his strength to Harrenhal, leaving only a skeleton garrison to protect the capital.
The great host moved slowly northward. In a few days they would reach Harrenhal and clash with Daemon in decisive battle.