Tyrosh, the Blacks' eastern stronghold.
Morning always came early in Tyrosh.
When the first rays of sunlight crossed the eastern horizon and spilled over this prosperous Free City across the Narrow Sea, the docks were already bustling with activity.
Fishing boats, merchant ships, and warships crowded the harbor. The shouts of sailors, the cries of merchants, and the chants of dockworkers blended into a single cacophony.
But today's Tyrosh felt different from usual.
At the most conspicuous spot on the docks now flew an enormous banner—the quartered flag of the Blacks.
Beneath the banner stood a long table, where several clerks were busy registering names and handing out pay.
A long line stretched out before the table, winding all the way to the street corner.
Because of the war, large numbers of refugees from the Disputed Lands had fled to Tyrosh.
And the Blacks were taking this opportunity to rapidly expand their forces.
"Next!"
A dark-skinned burly man stepped forward. He wore battered leather armor, and a rust-covered sword hung at his waist.
"Name?"
"Vogg."
"Ever fought before?"
"Sure have." The burly man grinned, revealing several yellow teeth. "Worked as a sellsword in Myr for three years. Killed two Volantenes."
The clerk looked up at him, scribbled a few lines across the parchment, then counted out ten silver coins from a nearby pouch and pushed them across the table.
"Take it. Go collect your equipment over there, then report to the barracks."
"Food and lodging provided."
"After a month of training, if you pass, you'll start getting regular pay."
The burly man took the silver coins, weighed them in his hand, then turned and left under the guidance of a soldier.
The line shuffled forward another step.
"Next!"
Scenes like this were unfolding simultaneously at Tyrosh's four city gates, three docks, and two public squares.
Ever since the Blacks captured Tyrosh, these recruiting officers had barely rested.
The terms they offered were enticing: food and lodging provided, fifteen copper coins a day in wages, plus extra rewards for victories in battle.
For Tyrosh's unemployed dockworkers, ruined craftsmen, and refugees flooding in from every direction because of the war, this was a good thing.
Inside an unremarkable manor within the city.
Hugh Hammer sat beside a window, casually playing with an exquisite sword in his hand.
The blade bore the distinctive rippling patterns unique to Valyrian steel, glimmering with that dark, muted sheen.
The hilt was carved from pale golden stone, white gemstones inlaid with golden veins, with a sapphire the size of an eye set into the pommel.
A fine sword.
Hugh sighed in admiration inwardly.
He had spent his entire life as a blacksmith and had seen countless swords, but he had never once held a Valyrian steel blade.
Such swords were unbelievably sharp and would never rust—treasures coveted by all those lofty nobles.
He had dreamed of owning one before, but it had always been an unreachable fantasy.
The price of a single Valyrian steel sword was enough to buy an entire castle.
And hardly anyone ever sold them. Instead, they treated such blades as family heirlooms, passing them down from generation to generation.
Now, this sword was in his hands.
"Lord Hugh, what do you think?"
The silver-haired, purple-eyed young man seated across from him finally spoke.
He wore the black robes favored by Volantene nobles, the collar embroidered with golden patterns. He looked to be in his twenties, with strikingly handsome features.
Nefas Lanser.
A noble of Volantis's Black Walls, the nephew of Eluna, Volantis's secret envoy.
And heir to House Lanser.
Hugh did not answer. He simply continued toying with the sword in his hand.
His fingers brushed across the inscription etched into the blade—the words were written in Valyrian. He could not read them, but he knew what they meant.
Nefas introduced it.
"This sword is called Awakening..."
"A fine name indeed. Awakening..." Hugh smiled faintly as he looked at the inscription on the blade.
"Lord Hugh?" Nefas asked again. The smile on his face remained unchanged, though a trace of impatience had already flashed through his eyes.
At last, Hugh raised his head and looked at him.
"Lord Nefas," he said slowly, "tell me... who am I now?"
Nefas answered instinctively, "You're a bas—"
But he immediately realized the slip and quickly adjusted his expression.
"You are Hugh Hammer. A hero. A descendant of King Jaehaerys."
"A descendant of King Jaehaerys." Hugh repeated the words, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bastard."
"A bastard without even a surname."
"A bastard who spent over twenty years as a blacksmith, sleeping beside stinking gutters."
Nefas said nothing.
"It was Prince Lucerys who gave me a noble's status," Hugh continued.
"He raised me from a bastard into a knight. Made me commander of the castle guard."
"Thirty gold dragons a month in pay. He gave me all of that."
Nefas's smile stiffened slightly.
"So," Hugh said, looking at him, "what makes you think I'd betray him?"
Nefas took a deep breath before speaking slowly.
"Lord Hugh, you are a hero."
"The blood of King Jaehaerys flows through your veins."
"Are you truly willing to spend your entire life as an obscure knight?"
Hugh did not answer.
Nefas continued.
"What has Prince Lucerys given you? A knighthood?"
"What's that worth?"
"A man like you deserves far more. A castle. Lands. A surname you can pass down to your descendants."
"That is what you deserve."
Hugh lightly tapped the blade with his finger, producing a crisp metallic ring.
"This really is a priceless sword. You people are certainly willing to part with a lot," Hugh said meaningfully as he looked at Nefas.
Nefas replied with a smile, "Lord Hugh, in my view, only heroes deserve to wield Valyrian steel swords..."
At the same time, his heart was bleeding.
This was House Lanser's ancestral blade. They only possessed two Valyrian steel swords in total...
But as long as they managed to win Hugh over, the plan would succeed.
Compared to dragons, what was a single Valyrian steel sword worth?
"You Volantenes," Hugh said, "really do know how to talk."
"One smooth line after another. Makes people feel good listening to it."
Nefas smiled faintly. "I'm merely stating the facts."
"The facts?" Hugh laughed as well. "Then let me tell you the facts."
He placed the Valyrian steel sword onto the table and stared directly into Nefas's eyes.
"You Volantenes allied with the Blacks to fight the Triarchy."
"Tyrosh was taken by the Blacks. Myr was taken by you."
"But now? Lys is under your siege. The Triarchy is finished. Volantis has become the most powerful force on the eastern continent."
"Do you still need to fear the Blacks?"
The smile vanished from Nefas's face.
"No, you don't," Hugh answered for him. "What you need now... are dragons."
"Dragons that can help you dominate the entire eastern continent."
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