"He actually tamed the Cannibal—the one no one dared touch. Incredible. That's the Sea Burner for you."
Ser Robert Quince and the other senior Black councillors flushed with excitement. Logar had already delivered staggering victories; now he rode the most savage wild dragon alive. Their chances against the Greens had just skyrocketed.
On the other side of the square, the newly minted dragonriders Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White also spotted Logar soaring toward the keep on the Cannibal's back.
Both men stared in raw shock at the monstrous black dragon. Compared to their own mounts, the Cannibal was every bit as massive as Vermithor, yet far more menacing—jet-black scales gleaming like wet obsidian, every line screaming raw aggression.
Silverwing looked like a pampered broodmare next to it. Vermithor looked like a tired old warhorse. Only the Cannibal looked exactly what it was: a prime, bloodthirsty apex predator in its full glory, carrying the same terrifying presence as Aegon the Conqueror's Black Dread Balerion.
"No… that's impossible. How the hell did he tame the Cannibal?"
The moment Hugh Hammer recognized the rider, every ounce of satisfaction he'd felt from claiming Vermithor and being knighted by the queen evaporated. His face twisted with pure jealousy and hatred.
That fucking Sea Burner. We're both bastards—why does everything come so easy to him? Why does he always have to be better?
Even Ulf the White, who had been happily drunk on silver and praise since claiming Silverwing, lost his grin. He stared up at the approaching shadow, face grim. Suddenly being a dragonrider didn't feel quite so glorious anymore.
ROAR!
The Cannibal descended with earth-shaking force, its colossal wings kicking up a storm of dust across the courtyard. The spiked tail lashed once for balance, then settled. The dragon's sheer presence hit everyone like a physical blow.
Every person present swallowed hard, instinctively stepping back. Up close, the Cannibal was overwhelming—towering, obsidian scales catching the sun, crown of razor horns, cold green eyes that seemed to pierce straight through flesh and bone.
No one even noticed Baela gliding in behind on Moondancer and landing quietly in the square.
"Your Grace!" Logar called, voice carrying across the stunned silence as he sat tall on the Cannibal's neck. "Logar, Lord of the Stepstones and commander of the World Devourers, presents himself—and the Cannibal—before the queen!"
The Cannibal lowered its massive head in a slow, deliberate bow, acknowledging Rhaenyra exactly as its rider had.
The queen's earlier anger and unease vanished in an instant. She pressed a hand to her chest, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Wonderful… truly wonderful, Logar. You have my deepest thanks. I will reward you richly for this."
"I knew I had not misjudged you. Taming the Cannibal proves your worth once again. House Targaryen shines brighter because of your loyalty."
"Congratulations, Your Grace! Another dragonrider swears himself to our cause!"
Ser Robert Quince and the senior lords immediately offered their congratulations. With the Cannibal added to their ranks, the Blacks now held overwhelming dragon superiority over the Greens.
"Excellent! Excellent! This is excellent news!"
Rhaenyra was beside herself with joy. Vermithor and Silverwing had given her confidence to fight the Greens. The Cannibal gave her the courage to march on King's Landing tomorrow if she wished.
Dragonriders were the ultimate power of this age.
Having them meant you could be this arrogant.
In the crowd, Ser Alfred Broome—the same man who had rushed to tattle on Logar only minutes earlier—broke into a cold sweat. He stared at the Sea Burner now seated on the Cannibal and wished he could slap himself.
If he had known the man had tamed the Cannibal, he would never have dared run to the queen with any complaint. Even if Logar had slaughtered every wild dragon on the island, Alfred would have kept his mouth shut.
"Logar! Congratulations on claiming the Cannibal!"
The moment Logar slid from the dragon's back, Prince Jacaerys was the first to step forward, gripping his shoulder with genuine excitement.
Ever since Logar had been made Lord of the Stepstones, he had shown the prince nothing but respect—unlike the other Black lords who often treated Jace with thinly veiled impatience. That had earned him a special place in the young prince's heart.
Especially today, when the newly knighted Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White—both fresh dragonriders—had grown crude and disrespectful, acting as if their dragons made them equals to royalty.
Logar was different. He had earned legendary victories, tamed the fiercest wild dragon alive, and still treated the royal family with proper deference.
In Jacaerys's eyes, the Sea Burner was now the most reliable pillar of the Black cause.
Logar, however, didn't notice the prince's warmth.
To him, the Blacks had treated him well so far—titles, gold, respect—so he returned the same. But if the queen ever turned on the bastard dragonriders and tried to strip them of their power, his loyalty would vanish in a heartbeat.
That was simply how he operated.
Now that he rode the Cannibal, his confidence had soared. He no longer saw himself as just another feudal lord. In his mind he was already calculating how to use this dragon to carve out his own kingdom.
Queen Rhaenyra, standing on the high platform, had no idea her newest dragonlord was already planning his exit strategy.
She gazed at the Cannibal—every bit as massive as Vermithor—and felt nothing but delight. In a single day the Blacks had gained three new dragonriders. It felt like the gods themselves were smiling on her house.
She was still basking in the moment when a messenger hurried up and reported that Addam, the new rider of Sea Smoke, was already on his way to Dragonstone to present himself.
Rhaenyra's joy doubled. She immediately ordered another feast to celebrate both Logar and Addam.
As the servants rushed to prepare, she shot Ser Alfred Broome a sharp look, silently ordering him to forget everything he had reported earlier.
With the Sea Burner now riding the Cannibal, he was far too valuable to the Black cause. Whether anything had happened between him and Baela no longer mattered.
She would speak to her daughter privately later, woman to woman, and that would be the end of it.
As for Grey Ghost's death? She no longer cared in the slightest.
There were plenty of dragon eggs in the pit. One young, uncontrollable wild dragon was nothing compared to a man who had tamed the king of wild dragons.
Ser Alfred received the queen's warning loud and clear. Cold sweat poured down his face. He didn't even dare glance at Logar as he slunk away to arrange the feast.