If all goes well, that is...
And for the most part, it did...
Househusbandry and midwifery were going very swell.
While the recreation of fused dragonstone and Valyrian steel was aided by the fact that he had dragons. Necessary and complementary support for creating these Old Valyrian creations.
Ronan even snuck in his alchemy studies in between.
Dragonfire and wildfire just had a sort of correlation... and transmuting metals seemed like a subject that is really compatible with the making of special steels.
As for the egg painting... or the egg runings... he decided to not be rash on that.
After all, his failed attempt at an invisibility cloak of a cloth was a cautionary experience that wasted a shapechanger's skin.
And dragon eggs, even if duds, were obviously and objectively more precious.
So, Ronan had to be extra cautious. Beefing up the structure of the runes and the specifications of its script over and over... again and again...
Until he was satisfied.
Until he can say it was Ready Perfectly.
Unfortunately... just as he was in a rhythm and on a groove... life just finds a way to get in the way.
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For troubling news came to Westeros...
Surprisingly so... especially when just about a year had passed since the Bold Bronze fed Craghas Drahar to the stones and crabs of Bloodstone.
A year since the Triarchy's hounds had been torn down with their leader slain and scattered by pincers.
Many had believed the matter settled. The Stepstones were quiet. And the involved Free Cities acted as if they never were.
So, trade flowed... and the Narrow Sea breathed again. Somewhat.
More so when tales of the Bronze of the Deep and his Kraken were being circulated amongst its seafarers.
Many believed that with such a presence... peace had long been assured.
Alas, that belief was a comfortable lie.
In Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh, ships had actually been building. In a quiet mum that was only known until now.
Hulls thicker than before. Crews drawn not merely from sell-sails and pirates, but from city levies and trained soldiers. Essosi coin flowing freely from these rich kingdoms.
For it would seem that they didn't want to opt for hurried retaliation.
They chose proper and calculated preparation.
But once again, the Triarchy chose another point person to lead them.
They chose a certain man... one who had apparently survived long enough to be feared and followed. A Tyroshi captain-general of ill repute and undeniable talent.
Racallio Ryndoon.
And with those facts made known and compiled... the news reached King's Landing with the same conclusive words whispered again and again... that this was a stronger force than before.
More ships. More men. Better supplied. Better paid. The Triarchy meant to show that the defeat of the Crabfeeder had been a mere insult... in the grand scheme they had in mind.
And now, they were finally taking it more seriously. Now, they meant to heighten the scale.
No whore-marrying Rogue Prince, no shamed Sea Snake, and not even that famous Bronze can stop their taking of the Stepstones.
However, worse followed.
The Triarchy-backed Ryndoon was not doing it just by themselves.
A certain Dornish from that Principality… and Dorne itself had joined their cause.
The alliance was not proclaimed with banners or treaties, but it was known all the same.
Dornish ships would not harry the Triarchy's fleets. Dornish ports would be open. Dornish spears would be ready should the battle spill ashore.
That knowledge unsettled Westeros more than just the Kingdom of the Three Daughters.
In King Viserys's court, tempers flared. The Small Council spoke of old wars and older grudges.
Some urged caution and restraint. Others spoke of taking immediate action. Yet all agreed that Dorne's involvement changed everything.
Among the lords, letters flew thicker than ravens' feathers.
Storm's End strengthened its coastal garrisons. The storm lord called his banners.
In the Reach, castles along the Dornish Marches doubled their watches, and grain was moved inland.
While the seas, the rivers, and the sands were also guarded.
Even the ladies of the Houses took to gossip with sharpened tongues. They spoke of Dornish knives in the dark, of poisoned wells, of children stolen from their beds. Fear spreads faster than fleets.
For this was no longer a matter of corsairs and occupying broken lands.
If the Triarchy held the Stepstones again, their ships would sit astride every eastern bay. The Gullet. Blackwater Bay. Shipbreaker Bay.
Trade could be strangled at will. And it was no longer just a matter of an annoying blockade.
Raids could reach as far as Driftmark, Duskendale, and even the Crownlands themselves.
What had once been a private confrontation between the Rogue Prince and the Sea Snake against a conniving corsair... was now threatening to become something far greater.
Turning those three years of clashing into a mere skirmish by comparison.
And the Stepstones, blood-soaked and barren as they were... seemed once more poised to serve as the focal point of this worrying conflict that blindsided many.
Not even the recent shocker of the Bold Bronze commanding 5 dragons was deterring the enemies.
However, it was still something that settled many Westerosi into a balancing calm.
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Then again, while those contrasting information was making waves in the mainland...
In a ghost land far far away... stationed Bronze Order members and Runestone shipwrights expected their days to be like usual.
In this very spot that was quite pivotal for most of the Bronze Fleet's operations on this side of Essos and the Shivering Sea.
Here, they welcomed fellow ships of Runestone make... repaired some damages... while some were even tasked with making more of said ships.
For such reasons, this renewed Vaes Leisi was more of a Vaes Yaillin than the Vaes Braedazma that it was currently known as.
Regardless of such a discrepancy, work still had to be done.
However, just as they were also in a rhythm of their own...
Kee-eeeee-arrs sounded from above.
And sure enough, it was the hawks... flying in from the forested kingdom of the wood walkers... circling the air to warn them of something.
Fortunately, a stationed leader knew what it meant... and got to order everyone to haul on out of there... urging many to get into the boats.
Only later from the cold waters did the clueless understand the reason for the overblown reaction.
After the sound of galloping horses could not be missed... and savage cries from bloodthirsty raiders could be heard in the mix.
Without a doubt, this could have been an overwhelming raid that their pitiful few stood no chance against... brought about the infamous horselords of the Great Grass Sea.
Breaking their established superstition of this ghost settlement... and charging unto it with a horse-driven ferocity.
Ready to slaughter the brazen occupants that flaunted their stay.
Unfortunately for the Dothraki and fortunately for those under the bronze banner... their young lord had prepared for such a possibility.
Making them float about in what the horsemen considered poison waters... as a taunting move against the hapless khals and their khalasars.
That stifled violence found another target, however... and the established shipbuilding infrastructures were not able to escape that wild wrath.
Meaning that some "damage report" had to be sent.
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Regrettably, trouble just had to come in droves.
And Ronan could only let out a sigh after reading a missive from a Keep raven... and that redundant report from his House-trained hawk.
Phase 2 of the Stepstone War was actually commencing and as timing would have it, the Dothraki also attacked.
At an odd coincidence...
Bombarded by annoyance on two fronts... all before Rhaenyra and he could even bring their new life into the world. Barely entering the second trimester at best.
And while the Dothraki raid-rage was somewhat understandable... the Triarchy was just out of nowhere.
After all, he hadn't even bothered them that much... because it was a hassle. While Dorne was barely registered to his thoughts at all.
Meaning that they were asking for it. And he might have to teach all of them a lesson... that they were sure to not forget.
But, on that note, Ronan had to check up on the Thousand Islands he renamed 300... and the secret city he renamed Nefer Titty as well.
Just in case... of course.