When the dragons descended, the colors in people's eyes became vibrant, for each dragon was a confluence of several hues: black and red, emerald green, bronze and black, cream and gold.
The azure sky was clear as a mirror, with only the figures of the dragons moving up and down, diving or soaring.
Frankly, the salty air of Dragonstone was not ideal for human life, but in the face of the great miracle of dragons, everyone was willing to watch a while longer.
This was the King of the Skies, the power and might that dominated the heavens.
Anguy the Archer, Lothor.布伦, and Robar Royce guarded Gendry and his companions, who also had Maester Qyburn and Ser Barristan beside them.
The ladies—Daenerys, Brienne, and Dacey—were still in the middle of the courtyard, their eyes tracking the dragons' flight.
"Your Highness, in addition to intelligence gathering, there is also a dedicated team responsible for finding dragons and dragon eggs, and another dedicated team for monitoring and dealing with Warlocks," Maester Qyburn said.
To counter the Warlocks, Gendry had the Red Priestess, Maester Qyburn, and later, the Warlock Marwyn.
Although the Red Priests of Volantis also claimed him as their savior and swore their lives to him, Gendry reserved his trust in them.
He also had a good candidate for those searching for dragon eggs in Westeros.
Gendry saw Ser Lothor and the others waiting on the other side. "Ser Lothor."
Lothor, in his gold cloak and black armor, approached them. "Your Highness, Ser Barristan, Maester Qyburn."
"I have an important task for you," Gendry said to Lothor.
"You will assist Maester Qyburn and be responsible for gathering intelligence on dragons and dragon eggs."
"As you command, Your Highness," Lothor replied.
Lothor was a bit older than Anguy and the others, and he was also the Deputy Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing.
He was loyal, reliable, and taciturn, making him well-suited for such work.
Ser Barristan would have been a good choice, but Ser Barristan was too busy and too old; this task should belong to someone younger and more vigorous.
"As you command, Your Highness," Maester Qyburn nodded.
Though he was old, with a slightly hunched back and many wrinkles around his blue eyes, he still possessed a certain strength and faith.
The world's so-called science was not real, and magic was now reviving.
"If news of dragons spreads, dragon eggs will surely become even more precious."
"Currently, the only suitable Iron Guard is Jon Strong (Gregor Clegane's body + Khal Jhezkahn's head), and suitable options are truly too few.
My current research focus has shifted to identifying special bloodlines and their abilities; I will submit detailed materials to you later," Maester Qyburn whispered.
Indeed, there were not many suitable black tech vessels like Gregor Clegane; after all, first-rate and super-first-rate warriors don't just grow on trees, and Gregor Clegane was exceptionally gifted.
The original Khal Drogo, Bloodbeard, and others had all been killed by the storm.
There was a suitable candidate during the Battle of the Blackwater: Krazz, the "Slayer of Hearts" from Yunkai, was a skilled and incredibly fast pit fighter, whose speed could even astonish Ser Barristan, making him the fastest.
However, Krazz also met a tragic end.
"You've worked hard, Maester Qyburn."
"For the glory of the storm," Maester Qyburn said in a deep voice.
Gendry entered the center of the courtyard and stood with Daenerys and the others.
The Dragons had already swooped down from the high heavens, tracing beautiful arcs.
They still needed to undergo more intense training; a dragon's growth was accompanied by the baptism of spears and arrows, adapting them to the life of war.
As dragons aged, their scales grew thicker and harder, providing them with stronger protection.
Were it not for vulnerable areas like their eyes, dragons had strong regenerative abilities...
Sunlight shone on the southwestern corner of Westeros, a very wealthy region; Oldtown was even one of the wealthiest areas in the known world.
Two great houses dominated this area: House Hightower of Oldtown and House Redwyne of the Arbor.
House Hightower controlled a large, C-shaped fiefdom; their direct domain included Oldtown and its vicinity.
Where the Mander flowed into Whispering Sound and the Sunset Sea lay Oldtown, the earliest established city in Westeros, a place of wealth and prosperity; it was also the southernmost point of the Rose Road, which connected Highgarden and King's Landing.
The other five lord vassals under House Hightower owned other lands.
This was hard to imagine in other regions, for a Lord of the Hightower to possess such rich and vast lands, which also demonstrated his strength.
A swan ship from the Summer Isles entered Whispering Sound.
The ship's prow was a flying bird, and its billowing white sails were beautiful.
Lookouts in the crow's nest carefully observed the sea.
The archers of the Summer Isles were eager; their huge goldenheart bows shot further and more accurately than the yew bows of Dorne, and few dared to disturb a swan ship.
The black-paneled captain, "Qhi," saw a castle on the cliff and knew that Three Towers was reached, not far from Oldtown.
As the ship continued, Qhi saw beautiful fields and leisurely villages; war seemed unrelated to this area, and merchant ships and fishing boats came and went.
"It's still very peaceful here," the black-paneled captain said, very satisfied.
War had swept through the east and north of Westeros and the west of Essos, but fortunately, House Hightower's lands had remained undisturbed.
The swan ship sailed towards Oldtown, but on the morning of the second day, they encountered people checking them.
Beside a busy fishing village, a galley emerged from the fog, slowly rowing towards them.
Her prow resembled a slender maiden, clad in leaves, brandishing a spear, and the name "Huntress" was carved into her hull.
Moments later, two smaller galleys appeared on either side of her, like a pair of greyhounds following their master.
To Qhi's relief, in addition to the stepped white tower banner of House Hightower of Oldtown, the ships also flew the golden Stag and dragon banner; House Hightower always adapted to the changing winds.
"Please forgive me," the captain of the Huntress apologized, then requested to board and inspect.
The captain was very tall, with a smoke-grey cloak edged with flame-like red satin.
The captain's ship pulled alongside the swan ship, then the oars were retracted, and amidst shouts, the Crossbowmen of Oldtown's ships and the goldenheart archers of the Summer Isles faced off.
The captain, with a few knights, boarded, nodded to Qhi, and began inspecting the cargo, to which Qhi agreed.
"Thank you for your understanding," the Oldtown captain said.
"We appreciate your understanding, but you must realize our difficulties.
War has swept across most of the world, and this peace is hard-won.
Caution is key; whether it's the Ironborn or other scoundrels, we must be careful.
Otherwise, if they infiltrate Oldtown and set fire to the docks or other things, it will be bad."
"I think you're being overly cautious," Qhi joked; he also spoke the language of Westeros.
The Oldtown captain shook his head.
"You don't know the scale of the war; the Battle of the Blackwater was fought in utter chaos.
King's Landing, both inside and out, was engulfed in war.
The quartesi people rallied a group of slave masterss to fight the storm, and they were ultimately annihilated; the Lannister burned the Blackwater Rush but could not hold King's Landing.
Now King's Landing has fallen, and Marajo and the tyrant Governor of Lys are dead.
But the war is far from over; the Ironborn are rampant in the north, the lion is fighting like a cornered beast, and Volantis and Lys will not wait for their demise.
Oldtown is too good, too rich; there will always be those who want to profit in the chaos."
"Praise the storm, he is a great liberator of slaves.
Praise Jhiqui, we will not become slaves," Qhi said.
The shameful era of the Summer Islanders as slaves lasted nearly two centuries, until the warrior woman named Jhiqui appeared.
This princess of Sweet Lotus Valley (who herself had been enslaved) united the islands and ended the slave trade.
It took the Summer Islanders nearly a generation, ultimately winning the war known as the "Abolition War" under the leadership of Princess Jhiqui's daughter (who succeeded her to the throne), known as "Shataana the Arrow."
"The Ironborn are natural brigands, they like to raid from the sea, steal gold and women, and then flee far away.
And places like Volantis and Lys, they are also a bad lot who like to plunder slaves."
"You still have the Redwyne Fleet," Qhi said.
"That's true, but the enemy is cunning, and we must be careful; large ships are not as agile as pirate ships, after all.
If the Magistrates of Volantis continue to support the war, then the Slavers Bay nations and Westeros will remain hostile, and the Redwyne Fleet will be embroiled in it, leaving Oldtown to rely on itself."
"Who is governing Oldtown now?" Qhi asked curiously.
"It has always been Lord Leyton's children. Lord Leyton and the Madwoman are studying magic books together at the top of The Hightower. I hope they can summon an army from the abyss. Lord Leyton's children are in charge of managing Oldtown. Baelor is counting and building ships, Ser Gonsal is in charge of the port, Garth is selecting new recruits, and Hendry might go to Lys to see his whore sister (Great Bear's ex-wife) to borrow some ships from Lys. If the wind is favorable and the bloody power struggles of the Lyseni are a bit more stable, after all, too many of them have died. Rhaenys killed the other Magistrates, and Rhaenys herself died on the Blackwater Rush."
"Lord Leyton's children are excellent. Oldtown should be safe and sound."
"Excellent? Lord Leyton's children are indeed excellent, and one can praise them as such in normal times, but war is war, the cruelest game in the world," the Oldtown Captain said sharply. "I pray they can cut off enemies' heads with their longswords like a storm, and be invincible. But I dare not hope for such a luxury. They are distinguished, they know how to dress, but they may not be familiar with war. They rarely leave Oldtown, and the prosperity of Oldtown wears away ambition."
The Oldtown Captain left the swan boat, wishing them a pleasant journey.
The Summer Islanders arrived in Oldtown on a bright morning. The fog was not heavy now, and Captain Qi could see the beacon of The Hightower.
Although the Oldtown Fleet was not as large as the Redwyne Fleet, its scale was also considerable. The Glory of Oldtown was the largest, with four rows of oars.
"Stop, I need to board this ship." At the dock, Ser Gonsal Hightower, Lord Leyton's son, personally boarded the ship. He wore a silver robe and gray glazed scale armor. Ser Gonsal had studied at The Citadel for a few years and spoke the Summer Isles language.
"Good morning, Captain." Ser Gonsal and Captain Qi went to the captain's cabin. Captain Qi wore a dazzling feather cloak that he only wore when going ashore, and the Oldtown Garrison taxi soldiers boarded the ship for inspection.
"You come from afar, have you heard anything interesting?" Ser Gonsal asked.
"Interesting things? Not many. The whole world is full of war and the sound of horns, riots, slaughter, bloodshed. The coup in Lys, the Tiger Party's comeback in Volantis. Volantis, allied with Lys and Slavers Bay, is fighting against the Storm and his two daughters, and slaves are revolting everywhere. Aren't you also fighting in Westeros?" Captain Qi replied.
"Well, the division of the daughters," Ser Gonsal laughed heartily. "Have you been to Qarth?"
"Qarth? Not this time," Captain Qi said. "It's too far, and Slavers Bay is expanding its army, so it's chaotic. But I did hear an interesting thing from a Qarthesi captain. The merchants of Qarth say that the red comet is a sign of the Dragons' resurrection, and the Warlocks of Qarth are very certain. This legend somehow spread in Qarth. The quartesi people say that the Dragons are probably in the hands of "Storm" Gendry and the True Dragon Daenerys."
"Dragons," Gonsar chewed on the word. "It seems other merchants have heard the quartesi people spreading this, but how could Dragons possibly reappear in the world?"
"The Red Priests of Volantis say the red comet illuminates the Storm's future, and those who die fighting for the Storm will ascend to heaven. If there are Dragons, they will certainly fight for the Storm, and besides, he has the last True Dragon girl in the world," Captain Qi emphasized. "The red comet is lightbringer, and the Storm is the one chosen by the gods."
"Well, legends of Dragons, monsters, and saviors. I wish you a pleasant journey…" Ser Gonsal Hightower stepped off the ship and continued his inspection at the dock.
"How many people have said Dragons have appeared now?" Gonsar's heart felt heavy, his throat felt choked, and the piety and superstition of these people towards the Storm were frightening.
The Great Storm, the ever-victorious Storm, and also the Iron Storm. But such a young monarch is often the most powerful and overbearing. Will he not see the silent Hightower, the silent Hightower in The Reach? In these troubled times, what should House Hightower do?
Gonsar gazed at the towering The Hightower. What exactly were his father and elder sister studying? In these chaotic times, were illusory things more important than the future of House Hightower?
On The Hightower, the beacon atop The Hightower still burned. The raging fire at the top of The Hightower has guided people in the fog and illuminated their future since ancient times. It is the tallest building in the world, even taller than The Wall.
At the top of The Hightower, the room was filled with books and scrolls, some spread on the table, others thrown on the floor.
The light came from a tall black candle in the center of the room. The black candle was three feet high, slender as a sword, with spiral edges sharp as a knife, faintly shimmering with black light, a dragonglass candle.
"Do you see anything?" Leyton Hightower asked. He was an old man, and his long years of secluded study made him appear somewhat decadent, but his handsome features remained unchanged.
"No, Father. But the candle is lit, indicating the arrival of magic," the Madwoman Moroa Harlaw replied. She was a tall, beautiful woman with long silver hair. But her temperament seemed a bit frenzied, with a sense of being immersed in witchcraft and knowledge.
The Madwoman focused intently on the candle on the table. The candle's flame was very strange, white as new snow, yellow as molten gold, red as a blazing fire, but its shadow was so black, like a black hole in the human world.
"Do you see in the fire if there are Dragons around the Storm? Stories of Dragons arriving are already circulating in Qarth, and a terrible era is about to begin again," Leyton said anxiously. "If it's true, it also explains why the candle reignited. The resurgence of the magic tide, the resurgence of magic."
"I cannot see the Storm. And there are also mages around the Storm," the Madwoman shook her head. "Originally, the protagonist should not have been the Storm; the prince that was promised was someone else. It is the Storm's power that has disrupted everything."
"But he is going to win," Leyton's eyes widened. "He defeated Renly, Tywin, and Stannis. Those Ironborn and slave masterss are no match for him either. Even if there is still the prince that was promised, what good is it? The blood of House Durrendon is also extraordinary."
"The undecided one, the one who has disrupted fate," Moroa Harlaw placed her hand on her chin. "This is not something I can predict."
"Alright. Suppose, and I mean suppose, he really has Dragons," Leyton said. "Then we will need to welcome the next The Conqueror."
"It's not that simple," Moroa Harlaw shook her head with certainty. "Young Dragons, hatched Dragons, are not invincible either. We also have Dragon blood, perhaps we can send someone to investigate."
"That blood is too diluted. I don't trust the collateral Hightowers, and if this matter is exposed, it will be irrecoverable."
"Even so, we have countermeasures. The Stone Giant will hatch," the Madwoman suggested.
"No, that is the last resort," Leyton said definitively. "Only death can exchange for life. If a large number of people are sacrificed, then what is the meaning of my summoning it? "
"A few blades of grass, if they die, they die. In winter and night, those who survive may be even more miserable. Everything for the family, for tomorrow, my father. When I foresaw the Long Winter and the Long Night, I warned you," Moroa Harlaw laughed heartily.
"Alright," Earl Leyton's demeanor instantly softened. His daughter had a talent for magic and was obsessed with it all day. Father and daughter influenced each other, but was such a daughter good or bad? Thinking of this, Leyton still had a hint of regret. But he could not regret. With the Long Night stretching on, where was there a glimmer of hope?
"I'll go rest for a bit." Leyton got up and went to the small room on the floor below, while the Madwoman remained in place.
Moroa Harlaw looked at the flame in the candle and murmured, "I did not see the Storm, but I saw another person, Father. The power of the Blood Kraken, all blasphemers, who will ultimately win?"
Moroa Harlaw looked at the scene in the flame. She saw a tall, twisted fellow with one black eye and ten long arms, galloping on a sea of blood.
But the image vanished in an instant. Moroa Harlaw only had a premonition of the unprecedented bloodiness and cruelty of the Blood Kraken. The Blood Kraken would bring slaughter, death, and an end to the world.
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