Shield Islands.
"Escape, quickly!!"
A fleet of Ironborn fled in haste. Accompanied by the first mate's terrified screams, a galley behind them had its mast snapped by a pillar of fire, its hull engulfed in a blazing inferno.
"Screee—!"
Caraxes circled in the sky, his pair of red leathery wings like a giant umbrella blotting out the sun, fire pouring incessantly from his dragon maw.
A dragon's flight speed was far beyond imagination.
Caraxes' flight speed was among the most elite of all dragons.
At sea, he was a reaper of human lives.
This vanguard fleet of Ironborn could not put up any decent resistance at all; under the terrifying deterrence of the giant dragon, they fled in panic and were ultimately buried in a sea of fire.
"Dragonfire!"
Daeron, riding Caraxes, was in no hurry to burn all these Ironborn to a crisp, gradually adapting to dragon-mounted combat.
Caraxes was very cooperative, sometimes soaring high and sometimes diving low, like a flexible giant serpent with wings, toying with the Ironborn fleet in the palm of his hand.
Some Ironborn dared to resist, gathering their companions to draw bows and fire arrows.
Daeron watched coldly as he guided Caraxes to fly past; only the crisp clattering sounds could be heard from the slender dragon belly. The many iron arrows caused no damage; instead, the shafts snapped and the arrowheads were blunted upon impact.
Dragons were the ultimate magical creatures!
Aside from a pair of vertical pupils that could see through all things, there was not a single flaw on their entire bodies.
Caraxes' scales were as hard as iron, and his wing membranes were tougher than the sturdiest leather. Swords hacking at them would only strike sparks and could not cause the slightest harm.
A volley of arrows shot from below could not even graze his skin.
"Screee——!"
Caraxes' molten-gold vertical pupils were cold and ruthless. His waist and abdomen suddenly exerted force as he flapped his huge leathery wings, his snake-like body diving downward.
Dozens of Ironborn below turned pale with fright, throwing down their weapons and scrambling to strip off their armor, shouting: "No, no, no!"
Boom—!
Crimson Dragonfire descended like a pillar of fire, sweeping across several pirate ships like autumn leaves before a gale, purifying them with raging flames.
Daeron rode the dragon away, speaking in High Valyrian: "Let's go, Caraxes!"
Caraxes gave a cheerful cry, his soaring speed suddenly increasing as he raised his head and charged into the thick mist, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Noon, 12:00.
Highgarden.
Man and dragon landed successfully; the round trip had taken less than half a day.
With a thud, Daeron jumped off the dragon's back, loosened his tight belt, and casually unslung Dark Sister.
——
"Prince, you've returned quite quickly."
Mathis Rowan came out to greet him.
He was tall and wore a full suit of armor, his hair combed meticulously and his chin clean-shaven.
Daeron let out a breath and said calmly, "The group of Ironborn that appeared at the Shield Islands was easier to deal with than imagined."
The man was the Lord of Goldengrove.
Count Mathis had actively responded to the summons of the Iron Throne, personally leading three thousand five hundred soldiers to Highgarden to prepare for the upcoming northern expedition against the rebels.
"I was referring to your speed."
Count Mathis had a cold face but was an understanding man. He said with reverence, "Your dragon is simply a miracle; its flight speed is faster than any bird or tool I have ever seen."
From Highgarden to the Shield Islands, it would take at least two days and one night by horse.
Prince Daeron, riding his Red Dragon, had made the round trip in a single morning, and had even dealt with the Ironborn fleet that came to test them along the way.
"Ha, I can't even imagine how we could lose the coming war."
Count Mathis felt joyful in his heart.
"Screee——!"
Caraxes had a fierce temper; he screeched to drive back the servants who wanted to approach, directly breathed fire to kill the sheep brought to him, and began to feast greedily.
When a dragon is tired, it must eat its fill.
Daeron ignored him, arranging for Howland to lead men to stand guard.
On this trip to The Reach, he had left Barristan and Ser Jon in King's Landing to protect his family and supervise his teacher, Tywin.
For guards, he brought "Blackfish" Brynden and the newly appointed Kingsguard Jaime.
Jaime was young and aggressive; it wasn't good to leave him in King's Landing.
For communication, he brought Davos, Howland, and the local Count Owen.
It was worth mentioning that Howland had already mastered Life Force. Through the "Thief's Shin" bestowed upon him, he had comprehended Life Frequency and could be considered a minor expert.
He served as a scout in the party.
Thief's Shin (Level 4 Dagger): "Damage 7~12, Critical Hit +2, Critical Power +25."
The preferred weapon for those with agile movements and mysterious actions.
..
In the meeting room.
As soon as Daeron entered, he saw Davos and "Blackfish" Brynden planning a march route with a burly bald man.
"Prince!"
Randyll Tarly's voice was deep as he put down the map and charcoal pencil in his hand, his etiquette impeccable.
He was tall and imposing, with a clean-shaven bald head, wearing a suit of heavy plate armor with a greatsword leaning beside him, still in its scabbard.
That was the ancestral sword of the Tarly family—the valyrian steel greatsword "heartsbane."
But even such a famous sword could not compare to Randyll Tarly's cold and resolute eyes.
Daeron put down Dark Sister, first nodding, then saying, "My Lord, I have eliminated the Ironborn scouts at the Shield Islands. I did not encounter any Greyjoys."
As previously expected, the Ironborn coveted The Reach greatly.
In the span of ten or so days, several waves of Ironborn fleets had harassed the Shield Islands, testing the defensive deployments there.
Count Randyll said, "Quellon Greyjoy is advanced in years, and his sons are eager to prove themselves. Those scattered Ironborn are all the handiwork of the little krakens."
He was famously blunt as he gave his analysis.
Daeron found it reasonable.
Harassment by small groups of Ironborn was always the prelude to a large-scale Ironborn raid.
The fact that the person behind the scenes had delayed action meant they were being suppressed and could not dispatch a large fleet.
Davos asked hesitantly, "But we used the dragon to burn the Ironborn fleet; won't that alert the enemy?"
"Ironborn don't have that kind of intelligence!"
Count Randyll said calmly, "Ironborn only know how to pillage. As long as the potential profit is sufficient, they will take any risk."
There was another sentence he didn't say aloud.
That was, since the Ironborn dared to test the Shield Islands, he suspected Quellon Greyjoy was dying.
Otherwise, his sons would not dare to blatantly disobey his orders.
"Prince, look here."
Randyll set aside the topic of the Ironborn and placed his hand on the map.
As time passed, more and more of The Reach's allied forces gathered, with the army's numbers increasing by hundreds and thousands every day.
Furthermore, the noble lords along the Mander River, such as those from Cider Hall, Longtable, and Bitterbridge, were already fully prepared to welcome the army north and join forces.
By preliminary calculations, they could call upon sixty thousand men.
"Sixty thousand men—that's more than the total forces of the Crownlands and the Riverlands combined."
Daeron was satisfied and asked, "Davos, what news from Stormlands?"
Davos pulled out several letters and said quickly, "There are letters here from Fawnton, Fallwood, Allsight, Blackwater, and
Nightsong. The lords are all willing to respond to the Iron Throne."
Daeron was slightly surprised, but it was within expectations.
These five lordly families were the first to pledge loyalty, with Blackwater and Nightsong holding the highest status among them.
Both Blackwater and Nightsong were in the Dornish Marches; one blocked Boneway and the other guarded the Prince's Pass, both being front-line battlefields for resisting Dornish invasions.
Count Randyll said, "I have some friendship with the two counts. As soon as they heard you were in The Reach, they immediately chose to join the Royalist army."
Impressive, the lords of the Dornish Marches were moving in unison.
Daeron smiled faintly and made a final decision: "Before marching, we must first deal with the Ironborn of the Iron Islands to prevent them from attacking the rear of The Reach's lords."
"Deterrence or total subjugation?"
Count Randyll asked seriously, offering two options.
Shipbreaker Bay.
The climate here was extreme, with storms gathering year-round, accompanied by gale-force winds and torrential rain.
A ship rode the waves, entering the sight of Storms End.
"Away from home for several years, I have finally returned."
Robert looked toward Storms End perched on the cliff, his eyes shimmering with faint excitement.
Anyone who had been away from home for many years would miss their native soil.
Moreover, he also carried a mission on his shoulders.
Robert took a deep breath and turned to look north of Shipbreaker Bay; even through the thick dark clouds, he didn't blink.
That was the direction of Dragonstone.
The greatest enemy of his life was on Dragonstone.
Robert's gaze was firm as he said in a deep voice: "Rhaegar, I will personally smash your collarbone and carve open your chest to see if your heart is red or black."
"
Stepping into Shipbreaker Bay, his hatred was like these surging waves, layer upon layer, without end.
His parents, while searching for a bride for Rhaegar, had sailed into Shipbreaker Bay on their return journey; the ship was destroyed and everyone perished.
He and his brother Stannis had stood on the balcony of Storms End, watching with their own eyes as their parents disappeared into the vast sea.
From that moment on, he no longer believed in the Seven.
His parents were good people; if the Seven were real, they shouldn't have taken the lives of good people.
Therefore————
Robert gritted his teeth: "Rhaegar, you owe me more than one life, and I will collect them all!"
Boom——
A thunderclap fell, illuminating Robert's cold, hard face and speaking of his unvented fury.
Storms End.
Stannis Baratheon stood on the balcony, watching as the large ship flying the "stag" banner drew closer, knowing that his elder brother Robert's return was imminent.
"Maester Cressen, prepare the ravens."
Cressen was advanced in years and stout of build, a kind old maester.
After the death of Duke Steffon and his wife, he had taken on the burden of caring for and educating the Baratheon brothers.
Cressen suggested: "Robert has been away for a long time and has just experienced the Battle of Gulltown. I will prepare a feast for him, so you and Renly can have a good reunion with him."
The brothers hadn't seen each other in years; it was time to properly foster their relationship.
"No need!"
Stannis refused flatly: "War is coming; Robert has no time for revelry."
Maester Cressen hesitated but nodded helplessly in agreement.
Compared to Robert, who was sent to The Eyrie as a ward, Stannis, who had remained at Storms End year-round, had spent the most time with him; the two were almost like father and son.
Stannis was rational and intelligent, with clear goals and no hesitation in his actions.
But beneath his rigid expression, he always gave off a sense of cold detachment.
Stannis did not think so.
His gaze was deep as he considered which Stormlands nobles could be won over.
He was not the Lord of Storms End and had no authority to bypass his elder brother Robert to send ravens to Stormlands nobles, calling for their submission.
But now that Robert was back, everything could proceed smoothly.
"Dragon Prince Daeron, the Targaryen who rides a giant dragon—"
A shadow fell over Stannis's eyes, and he blamed today's perilous situation on his elder brother Robert's recklessness and impulsiveness.
A Targaryen with a dragon was hailed as the person closest to the gods.
The House Baratheon was descended from the House Targaryen, and they also had the dragon blood passed down from their grandmother, Princess Rhaelle.
They should not have allied with the Arryns and Starks to openly oppose the Iron Throne.
"But you are my brother; I can only help you."
Stannis was excessively rational; he did not dwell on who was right or wrong, focusing all his thoughts on a strategy.
How to avoid the giant dragon and win this war.