From far away, smoke could be seen even in Pyke.
Balon's pupils suddenly constricted, fear surging like a tide into his heart as he subconsciously wanted to flee.
Dragons, invincible beings!
"No, I have to think carefully."
Balon forced himself to calm down, walking toward the Lord's chambers.
He did not yet have the rich experience of his later years; his cruelty and cunning remained at an idealized stage.
His father, King Caleon, had abolished the old way and strengthened marriages with the Green Lands; even the wife he married was of Riverlands noble birth.
He must have a countermeasure.
Inside the Lord's chambers.
King Caleon's face was pale, stomach pains and arrow wounds flaring up simultaneously; even a powerful warrior who mastered Life Force couldn't withstand it, breaking into a cold sweat from the pain.
When Balon entered, he happened to see the other man taking Milk of the Poppy.
"Balon, what is it?"
Seeing his eldest son's anxious look, King Caleon felt an ominous premonition.
Balon said in a heavy voice, "The dragons are attacking!"
He recounted exactly what had happened on Great Wyk.
King Caleon felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar, completely helpless.
At the Battle of the Mander River, he had also witnessed the terror of dragons for the first time.
With dragons and a massive fleet attacking the Iron Islands, unless the drowned god performed a miracle, the Ironborn would only become the dragons' meal.
"Father, Great Wyk is about to fall!"
Balon was impatient, his already scarred face looking even more hideous, making the Old Maester's heart tremble with fear.
King Caleon waved his hand: "Maester, you may leave."
The Old Maester was immensely grateful and fled the room.
Once only father and son remained in the room.
King Caleon sighed deeply and said, "Lead half of the Iron Fleet and take refuge in the Summer Sea first; do not try to withstand the dragon's Dragonfire."
The slavers and pirates of the Summer Sea were terrifying, but they were still more amiable than fire-breathing dragons.
"Flee!?"
Balon had a strong reaction.
He had just been chosen as the heir and was about to inherit the seastone chair; how could he flee?
King Caleon fell silent.
Having seen the terror of dragons, the shadow in his heart was no smaller than anyone else's.
Telling his eldest son to flee was a move of desperation.
"I will inherit the seastone chair, I will be the next King Greyjoy, I will not desert the battlefield!"
Balon seemed to be speaking more to himself as he slammed the door and left.
...
Great Wyk, Warhammer Point.
A fortification built on the tip of the island, it was the ancestral seat of House Goodbrother.
"Draw bows!"
Ironborn were hidden behind various corners, aiming at the terrifying Red Dragon that had landed.
"Screee—!"
Caraxes first smashed through the gates of Warhammer Point, its snake-like body landing on the ground, its slender neck arching as a continuous stream of crimson Dragonfire erupted from its maw.
The Dragonfire was like a pillar of flame; while powerful, it spread outward upon contact, maximizing the impact force.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
The Ironborn drew their bows and fired, arrows coming from all directions.
Daeron remained calm, drawing Dark Sister.
"Screee—!"
Caraxes let out a sharp shriek, its huge red wings spreading out like two indestructible shields, blocking the rain of arrows with a series of clangs.
A few stray arrows passed through the gaps, but Daeron swung Dark Sister, easily cutting them down.
The arrows exposed the Ironborn's hiding places, and Caraxes breathed a blast of Dragonfire, burning the Ironborn who were drawing their bows a second time into cinders.
"No!!"
An experienced old Ironborn was about to dodge when the crimson Dragonfire rushed at him, hitting him instantly.
With a tearing sound, his fragile body was blown apart by the impact of the Dragonfire, performing a personal display of fireworks until the charred remains hit the ground with a thud.
"Charge!"
Soon, the Redwyne Fleet charged into Warhammer Point, beginning the slaughter of the remaining Ironborn.
Daeron's lips curled up; sitting on the bumpy back of the dragon, he patted the Red Dragon's scales: "Let's go, Caraxes!"
"Screee!"
Caraxes was in sync with its rider; its massive wings spread, its small hind limbs gathered strength, and it took off from the spot, leaving the war-torn battlefield.
Dragons didn't like chaotic environments either.
As for how the chaos started, well, don't worry about that.
A few days passed in a flash.
Seaguard, the docks.
Daeron took off his boiled leather armor and fed the three dragons special fish caught in Ironman's Bay, checking their bodies for injuries while he was at it.
"No problem, no problem—"
Both Caraxes and Tessarion were fine, their scales intact and wing membranes undamaged, baring their black dragon teeth as they tore into the special fish.
Until Toothless—
Daeron frowned, noticing a scratch from an axe on Toothless's shoulder blade, where the scales had previously been as perfect and black as coal.
The scratch wasn't deep, but it had marred the black scales.
Daeron grabbed Toothless's neck, pried open its large mouth, and shouted, "You stupid dragon, did you eat a person!?"
"Screee! Screee!"
Toothless was feasting when its throat was suddenly locked, and it let out a guilty shriek.
Daeron snatched the food from the dragon's mouth, pulling out the large halibut and tossing it to Tessarion, who was almost finished eating.
"Screee!"
Tessarion was overjoyed, catching the plump halibut in its mouth and swallowing it whole.
Toothless:!!
Despite its struggling, Daeron wouldn't let go, determined to give it a painful lesson.
A dragon's eating habits were very regular; during normal activity, a young dragon would eat once every few days, while an adult dragon might eat once every two weeks or a month.
Only during long flights or before battles would they have extra meals to ensure sufficient stamina.
Daeron already pampered them, keeping them well-fed to increase their growth rate.
A dragon eating a person—was arguably a normal occurrence.
After a battle, the ground was covered with burned enemies; eating a few bites when hungry didn't really matter.
But Toothless's scales being scratched meant it had treated an Ironborn as prey and hunted them while they were still alive, getting struck by the person's axe.
This was what was strictly forbidden!
"You idiot, don't just do whatever you want just because you're a dragon, do you hear me!!"
Daeron threatened fiercely.
Toothless immediately behaved, lying on the ground and letting out a pitiful shriek.
Dragons are intelligent creatures, possessing a wisdom no less than that of humans.
It could understand human speech.
If it didn't listen, it meant it was doing it on purpose.
Daeron didn't let it off easy, giving the black dragon's head two firm punches; his fists hurt from the impact, and Toothless bared its teeth in pain, showing signs of anger.
"Screee—!"
A long, slender cry came from deep within Caraxes's throat, its molten gold vertical pupils fixed on its little brother, an aura of majesty instantly erupting.
Toothless: "Ga!"
Its green pupils instantly cleared, and it obediently lay back down, its sharp dragon teeth retracting into its gums.
Just as he finished disciplining his rebellious younger son, Count Paxter and Count Jason Mallister walked over together.
Seaguard is the seat of House Mallister.
House Mallister is a vassal of the Tully family of Riverrun.
Count Jason Mallister was polite and honorable, a tall, thin, and powerful middle-aged man with a clean-shaven beard and a very tough-guy aura.
"Prince, you have stayed in Seaguard for three days; I'm afraid I can no longer host you."
Count Jason said with a serious expression, ruthlessly seeing him off.
Daeron glanced at him, washed his hands in a bucket, and said calmly, "No matter, I was just about to leave."
The other man clearly breathed a sigh of relief, the gravity in his sharp gray-blue eyes fading slightly.
Count Jason said, "As an apology, I will provide three days' worth of provisions for your army, and ten sheep for each of your dragons as compensation."
In this War of the Usurper affecting the entire continent of Westeros, his liege lord, the Tully family, had not yet declared whether they would stand with the Rebels or the Loyalists.
He upheld his knightly honor and decided to follow his liege, Hoster Tully.
Allowing Daeron to bring his men ashore to rest was his recognition of the legitimacy of the Iron Throne.
And providing provisions and sheep was out of respect for the other's attack on the Iron Islands and for being a man of his word.
Seaguard is the Riverlands' first line of defense against Ironborn invasions.
The two sides had a long-standing enmity.
He was happy to see someone sending troops to the Iron Islands.
Daeron wiped his hands dry and asked as he walked, "Lord Jason, your nephew should have returned home safely. Did he not tell you what happened that day?"
Among the noble youths who followed "Wild Wolf" Brandon to King's Landing, there was one from House Mallister.
Count Jason's conviction was firm: "Rickard Stark intended to rebel, but my liege is very—cautious. Regardless, I support Lord Hoster."
Among nobles, things were never simply black and white.
The marriage between the Stark and Tully families didn't prove that the Tully family was also rebelling.
At least for now, Hoster Tully had not indicated which side he would support.
On the contrary, the Riverlands lords were eyeing their liege hungrily, with many thinking of replacing him at any moment.
He didn't want to betray his knightly honor.
Seeing that the other man was very stubborn, Daeron said no more: "Good luck, Lord Jason."
"You too, Prince."
Count Jason saw him to the shore and ordered the promised supplies to be loaded onto the ships.
Iron Islands, Harlaw.
"Screee—!"
Caraxes flew over Pebbleton, its Dragonfire scattering the fortifications and creating an opportunity for their army to attack.
Daeron used the dragon to suppress them, specifically targeting the longships at the docks to burn first.
This time, the ones attacking Harlaw were the Shield Islands fleet, rushing onto the island to begin their encirclement, sending the Ironborn fleeing in panic.
"Find Ten Towers first; that is the ancestral castle of House Harlaw."
Count Randyll commanded personally, the army advancing unhurriedly.
Under his command, the army steadily pushed through the Ironborn like a dragon-mountain, sweeping across the entire island of Harlaw.
"Not bad."
His mission complete, Daeron steered Caraxes to land on a cliffside.
...
He and Count Randyll had consulted together and developed a flanking tactic specifically for the Iron Islands.
The dragons would strike first, followed by the army.
The army would withdraw, and the dragons would cover the retreat.
With the coordination of genuine dragons and an army, they combined rapid strikes with hit-and-run tactics, withdrawing after a wave and returning to strike again.
This avoided the unnecessary trouble of defending the islands after occupying them.
It left the Ironborn exhausted, making them deeply feel the terror the dragons brought, eventually sinking into chaos amidst despair.
After the battle, Daeron would lead the fleet to withdraw from the Iron Islands and stay in Ironman's Bay.
The main strategy was:
If you run, I strike; after striking, I don't occupy.
If you strike, I leave; after resting, I come back to strike again.
Repeatedly pulling back and forth, carrying the harassment to the end.
Even more frustrating was that the Ironborn not only lacked the initiative in the war but also couldn't escape.
Once any Ironborn tried to sail out of the Iron Islands, they would fall into the naval blockade of the Redwyne Fleet and the Shield Islands fleet.
"After this series of operations, even iron men will be flattened."
Daeron's smile was kind.
In less than half a month, the Iron Islands would be in the palm of his hand.
Daeron's smile faded as he pondered: "The Tully family is surprisingly patient, still able to hold back."
Hoster Tully had rebellious intentions; that much was certain.
In the original story, as soon as Lord Arryn reached out, he immediately agreed to join the Rebels.
He hadn't rebelled yet only because the Riverlands lords below were eager for action, and The great Lannister army above was stirring, forcing him to stay in line.
"It should be soon."
Daeron didn't believe Hoster Tully would just wait to be captured and liquidated by the Iron Throne after the war.
The Tully family were never ones to stay quiet.
Ten Towers.
"Blackfish" Brynden and Jaime teamed up, leading the army to capture the city gates.
Harlaw was not small, with several Ironborn lords on it, but they were all House Harlaw of Ten Towers or branches of the Harlaw family.
Once Ten Towers was taken, Harlaw would be considered fallen.
"Targaryen lapdog, do you dare face me in a one-on-one duel!?"
A burly man stepped out, wearing full armor with a "scythe" sigil on his chest, holding a heavy flail in his hand.
Rodrik Harlaw, Lord of Ten Towers, and one of the most powerful Ironborn in the Iron Islands.
"Ser, let me!"
Jaime shook his head and blocked Brynden behind him.
Brynden didn't compete for glory with the young man, saying raspily, "Boy, the opponent also masters Life Force; don't be careless and lose your life."
"..."
Clearly meant as kindness, the words took on a different flavor when spoken.
Jaime was already used to it; spinning the sword crafted by a master in his hand, he said confidently, "I'm one step away from condensing a Life Seed; I won't be afraid of a mere Ironborn."
"Arrogant!!"
Rodrik roared, swinging his flail at the young knight in the white cloak.
Jaime moved nimbly, skillfully dodging every attack and closing in on his opponent.
After several rounds, both sides had gauged each other's strength.
"Die, boy!"
Rodrik threw the flail, his strong body charging forward as he pulled out a short-handled axe from his waist.
"The one who dies is you."
Jaime struck the short-handled axe with his sword, his palm reaching for his lower back, pulling out a dagger and plunging it into his opponent's eye socket with a squelch.
Rodrik was caught off guard; by the time he realized it, the dagger had already scrambled his brains.
"Ugh!!" He trembled all over, his mouth hanging open as he let out an unwilling groan of pain.
Thud!
Jaime pulled out the dagger and pushed the corpse to the ground, chuckling, "A brainless brute, just like the Northerners."
"It's your luck that you picked a brute."
Brynden didn't know when this boy had learned to be so underhanded, but hearing him talk about "Wild Wolf" Brandon, even if he looked down on him in his heart, he spoke up to defend him.
He wondered if his niece Catelyn losing her fiancé was a blessing or a curse.
"I've always been lucky."
Jaime was incredibly arrogant but knew to respect his idol, saying instead, "The Prince ordered us to find someone from House Harlaw; he said there's a valyrian steel sword."
This was a genuine treasure.
There were about two hundred valyrian steel swords in all of Westeros.
But the ones that were well-known could be counted on two hands.
His father Tywin, a Great Lord of a realm, had once tried to buy a valyrian steel sword from a fallen noble family, only to be strictly rejected.
The Ironborn were different.
The Ironborn paid the iron price; their things were all plundered.
So it was only reasonable for them to pay the iron price in return, plundering what the Ironborn had plundered.