Logar never noticed the bastards in the crowd watching him with dark, envious eyes.
When the sun climbed directly overhead, horns blared across the square and the prisoner presentation and enfeoffment ceremony began in earnest.
He walked forward with calm confidence, personally handing the bound-and-gagged enemy commander Sharako Lohar and the other high-value captives to Ser Alfred Broome at the queen's side.
The prisoners kept their heads down, iron chains scraping loudly over the stone as they were led away. The harsh sound cut through the solemn hush of the square like a warning.
Logar turned, climbed the steps to the high platform, and bowed deeply before Queen Rhaenyra. His voice rang out strong and clear for every soul in the crowd to hear:
"My respects, Your Grace. I bring before you every enemy leader who dared trespass on the realm's soil."
"Excellent."
Under the eyes of thousands, Rhaenyra's violet gaze sparkled with open pleasure. Her voice carried the full weight of royal authority, cutting cleanly through the square.
"In recognition of the great victories you and the World Devourers have won, I, on behalf of House Targaryen, formally take your company into my service!"
She paused, eyes locking onto him with fierce pride.
"Furthermore, I hereby raise you to the rank of Earl of the Stepstones. Sea Burner Logar—do you accept this title?"
Sunlight flashed across her crown. The entire square fell deathly quiet, every ear straining for his answer.
Logar's chest tightened with raw emotion. He lifted his head, violet eyes blazing with resolve, and spoke in a voice that carried to the farthest edge of the crowd:
"I, Logar, swear that from this day forward the World Devourers will ride the waves and carve the battlefield for Queen Rhaenyra—until the last breath leaves my body!"
A warm, satisfied smile broke across Rhaenyra's face. She took a magnificent longsword from a waiting page. Sunlight glinted coldly along the blade as she rested its flat against Logar's shoulder.
"Then hear me, all of you!"
Her voice rang like a silver trumpet.
"I, Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, by right of blood and fire do hereby enfeoff Logar, captain of the World Devourers from Essos, as Earl of the Stepstones!
May he serve faithfully, conquer without fail, and put every foe who dares threaten Targaryen soil to the sword!"
She deliberately omitted the Seven—common among the smallfolk—to draw a sharp line against the Greens in King's Landing. Even so, the square erupted.
Nobles and commoners alike roared their approval, clapping and cheering until the very stones seemed to shake. For the first time in weeks the black cloud of defeat hanging over Dragonstone lifted. Here was living proof that the Blacks still rose: a sellsword captain, risen from nothing, now a landed earl.
Flower petals rained from the viewing platforms, drifting down onto Logar's silver hair and polished armor. The ceremony ended on that triumphant note. Rhaenyra withdrew to the keep, leaving the glory and the cheers to the man of the hour.
"Your bearing was perfect," Lord Corlys said first, stepping forward with open approval. "I knew I had chosen well."
Logar bowed respectfully. "My thanks, Lord Corlys."
In his heart he was genuinely grateful—the old Sea Snake had kept every promise made back on Driftmark.
"Lord Logar, your presence on the battlefield must be terrifying indeed," Ser Robert Quince added warmly, clasping his forearm. "I look forward to many more victories together."
"I am honored, Ser Robert," Logar replied with a courteous smile. He remembered the man's grim fate in the original timeline and quietly noted to warn him later if the chance arose.
Up on the noble platform, Rhaena Targaryen could not tear her eyes away from Logar. She tugged her sister's sleeve, voice bright with excitement.
"Sister, the Sea Burner is so handsome! Can you truly believe he burned two thousand men with a single night of fire?"
"Hmph. If you're so curious, go ask him yourself," Baela muttered.
Her gaze had been glued to Logar since the moment he stepped onto the platform. Hearing Rhaena's praise sent an unexpected twist of irritation through her chest. She told herself she must be coming down with something—why else would her mood swing so wildly? And the cause of it all was that damned man!
Still fuming, Baela glanced at her betrothed, Jacaerys, clapping politely beside her. Next to Logar he suddenly looked like a boy who had never left the nursery. The comparison only annoyed her more. With a sharp huff she spun on her heel and strode away.
"Sister, wait for me!" Rhaena called, hurrying after her in confusion.
Jacaerys watched his betrothed leave with mild puzzlement but thought nothing more of it.
Once Corlys had moved on, the young prince approached Logar himself, smiling broadly.
"Lord Logar, congratulations on your new title! May we fight side by side from now on and crush every enemy who threatens the realm!"
"I look forward to it, Your Highness," Logar answered with a respectful bow—neither too humble nor arrogant.
He knew Jacaerys, as the queen's chosen heir, was desperate for every ally he could find while the Blacks' position grew more precarious by the day. Since Logar had already thrown in with the Blacks, he was happy to build goodwill with the future king.
Jacaerys flushed with pleasure at the proper respect. No one else at court treated him like a man grown. He gripped Logar's hand tightly and, remembering how Logar had studied Vermax during yesterday's arrival, asked eagerly:
"Lord Logar, I have heard you carry Targaryen blood as a bastard. Would you be interested in attempting to claim one of our family's dragons?"
"Of course, Prince Jacaerys," Logar answered at once. This was the entire reason he had come to Dragonstone.
"Wonderful!" Jacaerys's face lit up. Ever since he had suggested summoning every person with even a drop of dragon blood, the plan had cost two loyal lords their lives. The pressure on him was immense. If Logar succeeded, it would silence every critic.
"I'll speak to my mother at once and arrange—"
Logar raised a hand gently. "There is no rush, Your Highness. I have only just arrived. I would like two days to learn the island and study the dragons' habits before I try. When the moment feels right, I will be ready."
Jacaerys blinked, then nodded in understanding. "Wise. Very well. Settle in first. If you need anything at all, send word to me directly."
Logar bowed again. As the prince walked away, his gaze drifted toward the dragonmont behind the keep. A quiet spark of anticipation flickered in his violet eyes.
The real test was only beginning.