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Game of Thrones: House of Black Dragon
Game of Thrones: BLOODTHIRSTY BASTARD
Game of Thrones: Dragon Knight of Harrenhal
Game of Thrones: Archer's Ordinary Life
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The two magisters returned to the high council with Viserys's demands. They laid everything out before the full assembly.
"Should we warn the Tyroshi that war is coming?"
"No. Let them deal with the trouble themselves."
One magister looked worried. "Warships, triple-shot crossbows, wildfire paste, siege hammers—he's not asking for gold. He wants weapons of conquest. What if he turns on Myr instead of Tyrosh?"
Myr's strength lay at sea, not on land. Against dragonriders and tens of thousands of Dothraki screamers, their walls would crumble fast.
Another magister shrugged. "He's still willing to bargain. That means he doesn't plan to burn the city outright. Otherwise he could have done it already."
A former sellsword spoke up. "We can't match him on the field. Give him what he wants and hope he moves on."
They argued for hours. In the end, the senior magister made the decision.
"Agree to everything. As long as he doesn't attack the city itself."
The others nodded. Myr would hand over twenty mid-sized warships, a supply of wildfire paste, triple-shot crossbows, and siege hammers. No sailors came with the ships—training them cost as much as building the vessels.
Viserys accepted the deal with a thin smile. He paid with coin and goods taken from Tyroshi estates. Plenty of escaped slave sailors in his ranks could crew the new ships.
He raised his hand. Sunblaze answered with a roar that shook the air.
"Those who love me—follow!"
The golden dragon launched skyward. Behind him thundered thousands of heavy cavalry and Dothraki screamers, their arakhs flashing in the sun.
"True Dragon Khal!"
"True Dragon Khal!"
The cry rolled across the plains like thunder. Myr's garrison watched in pale silence.
Viserys streaked east at the head of the storm.
---
Dusk painted the Disputed Lands in dull gold and shadow. Rich fields stretched in every direction—firewine vineyards, apple orchards, wheat, barley, and wide pastures. Low latitude and steady water made the land bloom year-round.
Viserys circled high above, searching.
The Tyroshi had gathered their forces in one place instead of scattering across their estates. A small river ran beside a cluster of manor houses. There they drilled their new slave soldiers—citizen troops on the left wing, Unsullied house guards on the right, and the poorest laborers forced into the center.
A Tyroshi governor screamed at the ragged ranks.
"Shield wall! Hold the line, you idiots!"
The whip cracked. Blood bloomed on a slave's back.
Then the earth began to tremble.
"Dragonfire."
Sunblaze folded his wings and dove. Golden-red flame erupted from his jaws, washing over the Tyroshi lines like liquid sunlight.
The lightning strike had begun.