The Sunset Sea.
The Redwyne Fleet merged with the Shield Islands fleet, passing Lannisport in the Westerlands and heading toward Ironman's Bay.
"Screech—!"
The Red Dragon circled in the sky, guarding the fleet from above.
Daeron stood on the deck, looking up; he could still see two dragon shadows, one blue and one black, weaving through the clouds, following the Red Dragon in high flight.
"Tessarion and Toothless are also very energetic."
Daeron held the railing with both hands, enjoying the sea breeze blowing through his hair.
He was going to attack the Iron Islands.
Ironborn, do not be afraid.
"Even if you are afraid, I will not let you go."
Daeron smiled faintly.
It wasn't that he was looking for trouble or couldn't distinguish the importance of the war's direction.
First, on the vast sea, Caraxes, who held the name of the "God of the Sea" from Old Valyria, was invincible.
—And invincible on land as well.
Second, the Ironborn were a special group.
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They came to raid, and Daeron drove them away; that's called a defensive counterattack, not a war or beating them into submission.
To truly beat them into submission...
...is to keep chasing and attacking them after driving them away.
Even if they hide on the Iron Islands, he must chase them down.
To the point where seeing a flash of red or hearing Daeron's name makes the Ironborn flee at the sight of him, scurrying like rats.
That is what's called beating them into submission!
Otherwise, the Ironborn will treat you as a weak and easily bullied coward, and the moment you let your guard down, they will continue to invade you.
Daeron: "Now, it's my turn to invade you."
"Prince, the logistics and supplies are complete."
Earl Paxter Redwyne walked over and reported the situation.
He was tall and thin, with an unattractive long face, messy blonde hair, and a somewhat long beard, but he was actually quite young, just looking older than his age.
Daeron said seriously: "With Lannisport, we don't need to worry about logistics."
He had already written to his teacher, Tywin.
Tywin strongly supported his student's attack on the Iron Islands to give those ignorant Ironborn a lesson.
However, he probably didn't expect that Daeron wouldn't know when to stop with the "lesson."
"Yes, Prince!"
Earl Paxter took his leave and continued to command the fleet's progress.
Daeron was completely relaxed; if the ship weren't so fast, he would have wanted to cast a few lines to give the three dragons a little snack.
"The navy is different."
After merging the Redwyne Fleet and the Shield Islands fleet, he finally experienced the joy of the Dragonlords during the Old Valyria period.
During the reign of the Dragonlords, there were roughly three noble classes on the Valyria Peninsula.
The first, of course, were the forty Dragonlord families.
The Dragonlords rode dragons and were the true rulers of the Valyria Peninsula.
At their peak, half of the Essos was their colony.
The second tier consisted of the local nobles of the Lands of the Long Summer and the maritime nobles.
The local nobles owned the most fertile lands in the Lands of the Long Summer, ensuring the Dragonlords' logistics and grain, and maintained marital ties with the Dragonlords.
The maritime nobles were the most special, being military nobles who followed the Dragonlords into battle.
Such as the Velaryon and Celtigar families.
During the Old Valyria period, they were allies of the House Targaryen; on the eve of the Doom, they followed the House Targaryen to the continent of Westeros.
Maritime nobles are just too useful!
Daeron looked around; the massive fleet of over two hundred longships was like a torrent of steel, cutting through the azure sea with an unstoppable, majestic momentum.
As the sea breeze grew stronger, the fleet's speed increased.
This was precisely the irreplaceable advantage of maritime nobles—having impressive marching speed at sea.
Moving a large army is very slow and full of difficulties.
It took Daeron half a month to bring his men from King's Landing to The Reach.
Most of that time was spent in noble castles like Longtable, waiting for the troops to catch up with him.
Maritime nobles are different.
A distance a dragon flies in three days, maritime nobles can match in five or six days with some effort.
Because dragons need to rest, and riders need to eat and sleep.
But ships can keep moving on the vast sea without needing to rest midway.
This made the Dragonlords favor the maritime nobles, leading them to conquer far and wide; the nine Free Cities and Slavers Bay were basically all colonies of the Dragonlords in the past.
Among them, the maritime nobles achieved great military honors.
"When the rebellion is over, I must take over the Royal Fleet."
Daeron made up his mind.
Leaving such a good thing to Rhaegar would be a pure waste.
Would he even know how to use it?
The Iron Islands.
Pyke, the Lord's chambers.
King Caleon lay on the bed, wrapped in bandages, in a stupor.
"Maester, when will my father wake up?"
Balon stood by the bed, his raspy voice sounding like a ghost.
The old Maester lowered his head, not daring to look at Balon's face, and hurriedly said: "King Caleon has chronic ailments and relied on his physique to pull through in the past. This time, a stray arrow hit his lungs, I'm afraid—"
Balon's expression shifted as he asked: "Maester, just tell me, can he wake up?"
"He can!"
The old Maester quickly promised.
Balon waved his hand, signaling the other to leave.
If his father died, there would be trouble over the seastone chair.
If he didn't die, Balon could become his father's designated heir.
"Thanks to Victarion, otherwise none of us would have made it back."
Balon stood up and walked to a floor-length mirror in the room.
In the mirror, his current face was reflected.
His already gloomy left face was burned into a bloody mess, the left eyelid was gone, and half an eyeball bulged out.
Most of his black hair had fallen out, with only a few strands stubbornly remaining.
To say he was a person would be less accurate than saying he was a lingering ghost.
"Dragons—"
Balon took a deep breath, deep fear surfacing in his eyes.
He had been severely traumatized by the fire of that Red Dragon.
Every night in his dreams, he would relive the suffocating feeling of falling into the water that day.
Like seaweed wrapping around his whole body, unable to struggle free, tightening more and more until it dragged him into the deep sea.
"Damn it, how can dragons be so terrifying!!"
Balon trembled all over, uncontrollably throwing a punch, smashing the floor-length mirror with a "bang."
"Cough, cough—"
A burst of coughing came from the bed; King Caleon was awakened by the sound.
Balon's eyes flickered as he walked to the bedside: "Father, you're awake?"
.
Pyke, a remote beach.
A figure appeared in a small boat, pulling it onto the rocky beach, a frantic smile of survival on his face: "Pyke, I'm back!"
Euron "Crows Eye" panted for a while, stripped off the leather armor encrusted with a thick layer of salt, and strode toward Pyke.
When he spotted the Red Dragon in the sky, he had jumped into the water to escape.
He swam out of the Shield Islands amidst the chaos, stole a fisherman's small boat midway, and returned to the Iron Islands alone.
"Fortunately I was fast, or I would have died with Balon and the others."
Regarding his desertion, Euron felt no shame, but rather pride.
Ironborn should be this shameless to make a career for themselves.
That Red Dragon was clearly not something they could deal with.
It was simply a dimensional strike.
Returning to Pyke, Euron could no longer smile.
Balon wasn't dead.
Even his father, King Caleon, was alive.
Euron didn't understand; shouldn't the script be that both were burned to death by the dragon, and he would return to the Iron Islands to inherit the seastone chair and lead the Ironborn to conquer the Stepstones?
"Euron, come here!"
King Caleon forced his body up and summoned the lords and captains of the Iron Islands to gather by his bed.
Balon and Euron stood on either side, preparing to hear the decision on the succession.
But those who supported Balon clearly outnumbered those who supported Euron.
Especially the Ironborn who had narrowly escaped the Battle of the Mander River; their eyes were exceptionally fierce as they looked at Euron, wishing they could skin him alive and break his...
bones.
Euron was somewhat wary, his expression changing unpredictably as he pondered his future response.
As expected, King Caleon announced publicly that his heir after his death would be his eldest son, Balon.
Balon was the eldest son and more beloved by the Ironborn.
In a crisis, he had saved his father.
King Caleon had no reason not to choose his eldest son.
"Hmph!"
Euron was completely dissatisfied with this result, showing his displeasure publicly and leaving with a flick of his sleeve.
When his back was to the crowd, the malice in his intact blue right eye almost overflowed.
Several days later.
Balon took over King Caleon's power, deploying Ironborn to defend various islands to prevent a sneak attack from Lannisport.
At the same time, he prepared to inherit the seastone chair.
He did not neglect his brothers.
He sent people to constantly monitor the second brother, Euron, to prevent him from stirring up trouble.
There was no news of the third brother, Victarion; rumors said he had died in battle, which made Balon sad for a while.
"I will avenge you."
Regardless of whether he could actually get revenge, Balon first made a harsh declaration to make himself look more like an Ironborn.
Boom—
Suddenly, a loud roar came from Great Wyk.
Immediately after, flames soared into the sky, mixed with the clamor of shouting and killing.
"What's going on?"
Balon's face changed drastically as he ran to the window to check.
Great Wyk.
The Redwyne Fleet appeared on the horizon, ships packed densely, pouncing on the docks like a tide.
:
Warhammer Point.
Earl Gorold Goodbrother was shocked and paled; he grabbed the collar of an Ironborn nearby and roared angrily: "What's going on? How could The Arbor's fleet appear within three nautical miles of Great Wyk!?"
That Ironborn was also stunned by the roar, unable to figure it out no matter how hard he thought.
The Iron Islands consist of several islands.
Great Wyk, Old Wyk, Pyke, Harlaw...
Among them, Pyke is the territory of the Greyjoy family.
And Great Wyk is the largest among the many islands, even exceeding the sum of two or three others.
Logically, there should be Ironborn patrols outside every island of the Iron Islands.
It's impossible for a situation to occur where the enemy appears in the inner sea and is only discovered when they are about to attack the island.
Because they had never seen a dragon!!
"Screech—!"
Along the coast of Great Wyk, Caraxes circled at a low altitude, breathing Dragonfire to force back the Ironborn troops coming to defend.
"Screech!"
"Screech—"
Following it, a cobalt blue and a charcoal black dragon flew past in succession, leaving behind traces of diamond blue and ghostly green Dragonfire.
Daeron rode Caraxes, destroying the coastal defenses and flying toward Warhammer Point.
To attack the Iron Islands, Warhammer Point could not be overlooked.
After finishing with Great Wyk, he had to rush to Harlaw.
He heard that someone from a branch of the Harlaws at Grey Garden on Harlaw held a valyrian steel longsword—"Nightfall."
This item was destined for him; he had to go and see the situation.
Boom! Tessarion and Toothless were on the battlefield for the first time, following behind their father and elder brother, burning through the Ironborn on the coastal defense line.
The diamond blue Dragonfire was like a waterfall, with exceptionally strong impact.
The ghostly green Dragonfire was like smoke or mist, with strong adhesiveness.
Any Ironborn burned by the two types of Dragonfire either died on the spot or wailed in agony.
"The Prince has broken the defense line; follow me onto the island!"
Earl Paxter's eyes lit up as the Redwyne Fleet accelerated forward, landing at the docks of Great Wyk.
To be honest, he had never fought such a smooth battle.
With the dragons clearing the way ahead, the fleet only needed to charge fiercely.
"Charge!!"
The navy rushed onto Great Wyk, sweeping through the Ironborn who had lost their courage to the three dragons, quickly seizing the docks and sweeping toward the castles on the island.
"Don't run, none of you run!"
Earl Gorold was shocked and angry; he snatched up a greatsword and ordered his Ironborn to counterattack.
"Screech!"
A dragon shadow as black as carbon swept over his head, and ghostly green Dragonfire like smoke and mist descended from the sky, accurately hitting Earl Gorold's face.
"Ah!!" Earl Gorold instantly let out a shrill scream.
His hair and skin were ignited, and his armor became a prison for his flesh.
No matter how he tried, rolling on the ground or splashing sand and water, he could not extinguish the Dragonfire.
Before long, he turned into a human torch, falling to the ground with a thud, his charred corpse twitching incessantly.