The Narrow Sea, Lower Half.
The deep blue sea was calm and peaceful.
"Hiss—Gah—"
A massive black dragon let out a low growl, its body gliding just above the water's surface. Its claws skimmed the sea, splitting the waves beneath it.
Stone Step Isles, Outer Waters of Gray Gallows Island
Two small cargo ships drifted aimlessly, their decks covered with a conspicuous black cloth.
Boom!
The black dragon soared into the sky, unleashing a breath of dragonfire upon the ships.
The black cloth ignited instantly, revealing two heavy scorpions (ballistae) hidden beneath.
Seated on the dragon's back, Rhaegar remained unfazed. He spoke coldly, "Dracarys."
The gluttonous dragon showed no mercy, circling the two ships and evenly spreading its eerie green flames across the decks.
Before long, chaos erupted within the ship holds. More than a hundred disheveled pirates scrambled out, wailing and cursing, only to be consumed by fire, turning into ash along with their vessels.
"Let's go, Devourer."
Watching the burning wreckage drift away, Rhaegar felt nothing. He steered the dragon back toward Sunspear.
"Hiss—Gah—"
The massive dragon let out a low roar and nimbly twisted its enormous body, soaring toward Cape Wrath.
Rhaegar's expression relaxed as he leaned back into his saddle, lazily gazing up at the sky.
It had been a month since the second wave of the Dragon's Wrath began.
Dorne had suffered multiple bouts of dragonfire, leaving its already scarce castles and villages in ruins.
With the war taking place in Dorne, outside forces beyond the Narrow Sea were bound to seize the opportunity to stir trouble.
Pirate bands occasionally emerged, harassing the trade routes around the Stone Step Isles and smuggling supplies into Dorne via secret sea routes.
Such petty schemes were too numerous to count.
Feeling the salty sea breeze against his face, Rhaegar closed his eyes briefly and pondered:
"Dornish uprisings persist. Scattered noble remnants continue to rally peasants, organizing small-scale rebellions."
None of them were significant enough to warrant real concern.
Rhaenys remained in Sunspear, overseeing Quentyn Martell and a portion of the Dornish nobility who had surrendered.
The Sea Snake had moved to Plankytown, working to restore the shipping routes along the Greenblood River and its extension to the Stone Step Isles. This connected all of the Disputed Lands while effectively sealing off the lower half of the Narrow Sea.
The only real drawback was the lack of naval forces. The patrol fleets could detect incoming ships, but pirates still occasionally dared to sneak through.
"The Prince's Pass is sealed, and the Boneway is being fortified."
With the naval defenses in place, Rhaegar turned his thoughts to securing the Red Mountains.
The blockade at the Prince's Pass was now fully enforced.
To the north stood Nightsong, and further in was King's Grave.
House Fowler of Skyreach had been entirely captured. After months in captivity, they had finally submitted.
Lord Fowler had three sons.
The eldest was a staunch extremist, harboring deep hatred for the Iron Throne's conquest of Dorne.
Rhaegar hadn't executed him. In fact, he hadn't even met him in person.
Instead, he stationed Mors Hightower in Skyreach to manage the troops, allowing the eldest son's influence to spread.
A message was subtly delivered to the three Fowler brothers—whoever remained loyal would inherit the title and lands.
The eldest barely had time to rally his old vassals before his younger brother, eyeing the inheritance, poisoned him.
The moment the eldest drew his last breath, the youngest brother personally escorted Mors into Skyreach to apprehend their treacherous sibling.
Thus, a grand spectacle of "brotherly love and justice" unfolded.
With only one brother left, the youngest naturally inherited Skyreach.
Mors took control of the city's military forces, carving out a portion of the land to house Dornish refugees fleeing the war.
Meanwhile, fortifying the Boneway remained a pressing task.
Helena had been dispatched to the Prince's Palace, overseeing the transportation of supplies and using dragonglass to expedite construction efforts.
Blackhaven had suffered significant troop withdrawals, leaving just enough soldiers to hold the Boneway while aiding Daemon in rooting out rebel forces hiding in the mountains.
At the Boneway's exit, east of the Dragon King's Altar, a new settlement was being built to accommodate displaced civilians.
Donald Tarly led ten thousand Reachmen troops to garrison the area, both overseeing the town's construction and managing the incoming refugees.
The refugees were allowed to build temporary shelters based on their numbers. They received just enough rations to survive while able-bodied men were drafted for labor.
With this, the three-pronged blockade—Prince's Pass, the Boneway, and the Greenblood River—was successfully implemented.
The remaining rebel forces were trapped in Dorne's deserts and hinterlands, unable to breach the Red Mountains. Without access to ports or the Narrow Sea, they were essentially caged.
Feeling at ease, Rhaegar muttered to himself:
"Dorne has no farmland, no wells. The remaining rebels will soon grow desperate. When the time comes, I'll launch the third wave of the Dragon's Wrath."
Within six months, the starving commoners would abandon the rebellion.
Without their support, the noble resistance would be nothing more than a handful of grains lost in the vast desert—no longer a threat.
"Roar…"
Suddenly, Devourer let out a low, wary growl, its massive head fixated on something in the distance.
Rhaegar detected a hint of uncertainty in the dragon's tone and propped himself up on his elbow.
Devourer was flying fast, already past the boundaries of the Stone Step Isles. To the west, the coastline of Cape Wrath was now visible.
Following the dragon's gaze, Rhaegar saw something unusual—Isle of Estermont.
The island sat across the sea from the Stormlands, near the southern rainforests and Mistwood, making it the domain of House Estermont of Greenstone.
At that moment, the sky was clear, with scattered clouds drifting under the blazing sun.
"Hiss—Gah—"
A sharp, sorrowful cry rang out.
Whoosh—
A pale silver dragon suddenly burst out from the island, disappearing into the clouds in an instant.
Rhaegar's eyes narrowed as he murmured, "Sea Smoke?"
Sea Smoke fled hurriedly, its mournful cries echoing faintly in the sky.
He had heard the Sea Snake mention that Sunspear's fishermen had spotted a dragon wandering between Cape Wrath and the Summer Sea.
It seemed Sea Smoke still hadn't given up.
"Sigh, Cousin Laenor really let a good companion down."
Rhaegar sighed, no longer paying it much attention.
Across the battlefield of Dorne, a total of eight dragons appeared.
Six unleashed their dragonfire, participating in the conquest of Dorne.
Vermithor returned to Dragonstone, leaving only Seasmoke still trapped in the shadow of its fallen rider.
...
Sunspear.
A man and a dragon returned, landing in the courtyard of the Old Palace.
"Meh, meh~~"
Sheepstealer crouched in a corner of the courtyard, enjoying the meal of goats that the attendants had thrown to him, listening to the pitiful cries of his "prey."
Glutton lowered his head, his green, vertical pupils scanning the other dragon.
"Hiss—crack!"
Sheepstealer let out a startled cry, swallowed an entire goat in one gulp, and shuffled further into the corner.
Better not provoke him.
Rhaegar climbed down from the dragon's back and entered the Old Palace.
He glanced up and caught sight of the golden Sunfyre perched atop the highest tower of the Sun Spear, his pale pink wings outstretched arrogantly.
Rhaegar shook his head and thought to himself, Like rider, like dragon.
At least Sunspear was relatively safe. With two dragons roaming freely, no one would dare try anything.
Old Palace, the Prince's Study.
Alone, Rhaegar removed his loose black robe and sat down at his desk, taking out a finely engraved carving knife.
The war was entering its final phase—just tedious clean-up left.
Amidst the busyness, he found time to cultivate his craft.
Scratch, scratch, scratch…
With precise, small movements, he guided the carving knife, shaving bits of stone from a grapefruit-sized block, gradually shaping it into the form of a fiery mountain peak.
On the wooden desk, an array of stone carvings was displayed—mostly dragons and various architectural structures.
Rhaegar studied the fire mountain in his hand, dissatisfied, and continued refining it.
The carving knife required skilled craftsmanship to replicate intricate engravings.
For now, he focused on stone carving, intending to recreate a complete Freehold Fortress Empire, just like his father once did.
Knock, knock—
The door was pounded on rapidly, then kicked open.
Rhaegar's hand jerked, leaving a gash at the base of the fire mountain.
His face darkened as he stiffly looked up.
Standing in the doorway, Aegon wore a scowl as if the whole world owed him a sack of gold dragons.
Bang!
Rhaegar slammed his hand on the desk, nearly flinging the carving knife like a dagger. With a fake smile, he said, "Aegon, you better have a reason for kicking my door."
Otherwise, you'll regret it.
Aegon hesitated for a moment, noticing the shattered fire mountain in his brother's grip. His arrogance instantly faded.
Rhaegar's tone was deceptively gentle. "Speak quickly, before I decide to slap you while I'm still in a good mood."
It had been a while since he last beat his younger brother.
He glanced at the carving knife, then shook his head inwardly.
One slice, and the kid would be done for. Not to mention Alicent—Father wouldn't be pleased either.
"Gulp."
Aegon shivered and swallowed hard. "Uh, Otto sent me a letter, urging me to go to Oldtown to guard against a Dornish attack."
Afraid of making his brother angrier, he quickly added, "You know me, big brother. I hate Oldtown and the Hightowers, but my mother keeps nagging me—it's driving me crazy."
"So?" Rhaegar gave him a strange look.
Was this brat trying to show loyalty?
Aegon's eyes flickered as he tested the waters. "How about… you go to Oldtown for me and handle it?"
"I go?" Rhaegar's expression shifted completely.
Did he even hear what he just said?
Guess why Otto and the others insist on sending you—constantly bypassing me, the one overseeing everything?
Aegon put on a knowing look and lifted his chin. "It makes perfect sense. You go to Oldtown, while Aemond and I keep fighting in Dorne—no time wasted."
He had heard about the situation in King's Landing—his father bedridden, his mother and Otto pushing him to Oldtown while trying to bring Aemond back to the capital.
It was obvious they were up to no good.
He might be lazy, but he wasn't stupid.
Using his long-dormant brain for once, he decided to stay lazy.
Rhaegar chuckled, not answering immediately. Instead, he asked, "Do you even know what's going on in Oldtown?"
"Dayne and the Blackmonts gathered a thousand men, bypassing the mountain roads and approaching Oldtown."
Aegon spoke smoothly, as if he had memorized the report. "Half of the Hightower forces were deployed to the Stepstones, thirty percent are at the Prince's Pass, leaving only a few hundred guards in the city."
"The acting lord ordered Oldtown to be locked down. The Dornish are raiding the surrounding farmlands instead."
He had done his homework.
Rhaegar mused, "Mund is overreacting, and Otto is meddling unnecessarily."
"Exactly!"
Aegon agreed wholeheartedly, grumbling, "Mund keeps pestering me, saying that if I don't return to Oldtown, he'll go himself."
Rhaegar replied calmly, "He already left. He's probably in the Hightower as we speak."
"Huh?" Aegon was dumbfounded.
Rhaegar just smiled and said nothing.
The Dornish reaching the Reach so easily—specifically targeting Oldtown—was his doing.
The Hightowers had too many skeletons in their closet. Whether Aegon went or not, Mund wouldn't feel secure.
And he especially feared that Rhaegar, as heir to the throne, would use the opportunity to burn Oldtown to the ground.
A shadow courier from Nightsong had already informed him—Mund had secretly left two weeks ago.
The Prince's Pass was now under the command of Nightsong's acting lord.
Aegon, still clueless, wore a blank, almost innocent expression, his recently filled-out face frozen in stupidity.
Rhaegar put away his carving knife and stood up.
As he walked past Aegon, he patted his brother's shoulder and said, "Get Aemond. Tomorrow, we're all going to Oldtown together—just the three of us."
With that, he walked away.
"???"
Aegon nearly dropped his jaw. He pointed at his own face, protesting, "I still have to go?"
(End of Chapter)