After the Golden Company's defeat, the Stepstones beca a powder keg.
Dozens of factions moved in the shadows, trying to recruit the shattered sellsword company. The Golden Company, anwhile, blad both Daeron and the Volantenes for their losses and went into hiding.
On a small island.
Black Barq's face was darker than usual. He muttered in Sumr Islands speech, "One dragon almost burned off my cock. Those filthy Volantenes stole my ship."
No one understood him. They just assud he was complaining.
"Bandages! Now!"
Harry Strickland waddled in on his bowed legs, hands covered in blood, shouting for dical supplies.
He was the Golden Company's paymaster and Myles Toyne's right hand. Short, ugly, and timid, but sharp with numbers.
Soone rushed off and returned with the supplies.
Harry hurried into the cave to treat the badly wounded captain.
Myles Toyne lay on a makeshift plank bed, half his body a mass of burned flesh. Two surgeons struggled to peel away armor fused to his skin while pouring strong spirits over the wounds.
Dragonfire burned hot.
Even with his body strengthened by rubies, Myles had only survived by throwing himself into the sea. His n had barely pulled him out in ti.
"Coming, coming."
Harry brought clean bandages boiled in water and helped the surgeons dress the wounds.
Outside the cave.
Lyswell, the two Mudds, and the other sergeants sat around a fire.
Little John Mudd looked terrified. "That dragon was terrifying. Burned over two hundred of our ships and nearly killed the captain."
"How can a dragon be that strong?!"
Chain's face was grim. The red dragon had left a deep mark on all of them.
It was a killing machine.
No one could withstand its fire. Even a near miss cooked n alive. Several of Chain's own n had been turned to charcoal because they were too slow.
"Why did Dragon King Daeron appear? And why did he help the Volantenes?"
Lyswell, still soaked from the sea, ground his teeth. "That white-haired monster. We never wronged him."
The other sergeants had only lost a few n each. Lyswell had lost a cousin. His standing in the company had dropped sharply.
Every sergeant looked uneasy, still shaken by the mory of the dragon.
They had heard stories. Dragons were terrifying.
But until they actually faced one, they hadn't truly understood.
The Golden Company supported the Blackfyres. They had once challenged the Iron Throne itself.
How bad could a dragon really be?
Now they knew. True despair. Soul-deep terror.
There was nothing they could do.
They were on ships. Arrows and spears couldn't even reach the dragon. When one lucky shot finally hit, it bounced off like nothing.
"Could Dragon King Daeron have co because of that island?"
Black Barq asked suspiciously.
The cave went silent.
Lyswell imdiately denied it. "Impossible. Only we know about that island."
The others exchanged uneasy glances. They wanted to believe him, but Daeron's sudden attack made no sense otherwise.
"That island is our future," Chain said coldly.
Greed flickered in every sergeant's eyes.
The island was paradise. Ferns, coconuts, and ginger grew everywhere—most of it special crops of decent quality. For sellswords, special crops were priceless.
There was also a mine and an active volcano. Untapped wealth.
Harry slipped out of the cave and whispered, "We can't leave. That island is pure gold. We can't just hand it over."
He didn't need to say it. No one wanted to abandon it.
:
Lys.
Council of Governors. Thirteen archons present.
Tregar Ormollen looked around at all the new faces and felt deeply uncomfortable.
They had fought so hard to monopolize power, only to spread it thin just to buy loyalty.
"Volantis defeated the Golden Company head-on. Dragon King Daeron appeared out of nowhere and seems to be working with them."
New archon Laris Bahot was a broad-shouldered man who ran one of Lys's banks. His information was excellent.
Fredo Rogare, now also an archon thanks to heavy bribes, chid in eagerly. "Exactly. The Golden Company was crushed!"
Valarr frowned. "What is going on? Dragon King Daeron and the Volantenes together?"
The mont he spoke, the council erupted.
Most of the new archons trembled at the na "Dragon King Daeron" and stayed quiet.
When soone ntioned the Volantenes, however, they bared their teeth and demanded war.
"Dragon King Daeron is not working with the Volantenes," Natalya said firmly. "A group of drunken Volantenes in my brothel said Malacho is trying to recruit him. That arrogant bastard wants an alliance with House Targaryen."
"Then why did he help them?"
One of the older rchant archons snapped, "Because the Golden Company has history with the Iron Throne. Haven't you heard?"
Even without that history, Targaryens were mad. If one of them took a dislike to you, he would burn you from dragonback and call it a day.
Valarr rubbed his temples. "The Volantenes were already difficult enough. Now Dragon King Daeron has stuck his nose in and we can't read the situation at all."
The fight for the Stepstones was like breeding gu. Everyone had a chance.
But the sudden appearance of a Targaryen dragonrider was like dropping a god into the arena.
No one wanted to provoke those lunatics. They still rembered what happened to Tyrosh.
Tyrosh's gates still weren't repaired.
"We have to fight. The Volantenes are too arrogant!"
"Exactly. The Stepstones belong to us, not Volantis."
"We'll contact Myr and Tyrosh. Gather the full strength of the Triarchy and push them back—"
Most of the archons were still hawks.
Before they beca archons, losing Grey Gallows and watching the Volantenes swagger had been soone else's problem.
Now that they held a share of the island's profits, things were different.
They would take Grey Gallows back and restore Lys's glory.
Valarr had been waiting for this. "Very well. I'll send word to Myr and Tyrosh. We go to war with Volantis."
Dragon King Daeron was dangerous.
But if he stayed out of it, Lys had no fear of the Volantene invaders.
News of the Volantene victory over the Golden Company—and Daeron's involvent—spread like wildfire along both shores of the Narrow Sea.
Every faction and pirate band was shaken. They feared Dragon King Daeron had returned.
But after that single battle, Daeron vanished again.
It looked as if he had simply disliked the Golden Company and stomped on them while passing through.
Half a month passed.
The Volantenes regrouped and launched another conquest of the Stepstones.
At the sa ti, the Triarchy struck Grey Gallows. Both sides fought with real fury.
:
Two giants clashed, and every vulture and hyena ca running.
Pirates, slavers, and smugglers from the Narrow Sea, Slaver's Bay, and the Sumr Sea poured in, joining the chaos and fighting for every island.
Even slave traders from as far as Qarth sailed in to snatch captives and profit.
Once again the Stepstones burned.
"The real culprits are the Golden Company," Daeron said flatly.
He was on Tars Island, using Myr's intelligence network to follow events.
The Stepstones were almost as bad as they had been before the Battle of the Narrow Sea. Every kind of evil flourished and the fighting had spread across the entire Disputed Lands.
At least no pirates were foolish enough to raid Westeros anymore.
Daeron's bloody reputation had done its job.
Because of him, the old image of House Targaryen—fallen, weak, mad—had shifted to sothing far more dangerous: dragons, warlords, noble dragonblood.
Daeron chuckled. "If the Golden Company hadn't been eyeing Ginger Island, I wouldn't have been so aggressive."
Even without his intervention, the Volantenes alone would have caused chaos across the Disputed Lands.
Unlike Daeron, who was simply stirring the pot, the Volantenes had co to conquer.
"Your Grace, fresh news."
Ser Arthur entered quickly.
Daeron smiled. "Go ahead, Ser."
Ser Arthur's face was serious. "The Triarchy has hired a large number of sellswords—including the Golden Company."
"That's right. They've already gathered their forces and are sailing for Grey Gallows."
Tyrion slipped in and spoke without invitation.
Jas was right behind him, along with Lord Lucerys.
Jas put a hand on his brother's shoulder, silently telling him to stay quiet.
This kind of discussion was not for them to interrupt.
Tyrion ignored him, dragged a stool over to the table, and climbed up with difficulty so he could see the sand table. He pointed at a spot. "The Volantenes are arrogant. They're not fighting a defensive war. They're committing everything to intercept the Triarchy at sea and force a naval battle."
Lord Lucerys agreed. "Volantene ships and equipnt are excellent. They ca prepared. A sea fight favors them."
The Triarchy was only a few years old. At its core it was still a collection of pirate companies funded by rchants. Their soldiers and gear were average at best.
Volantis was different.
Their warships, armor, and siege engines were all purpose-built for war.
Proper professional soldiers.
Jas dragged his brother off the stool with a dark expression.
Tyrion still tried to show off and nearly got shoved under the table.
Daeron ignored the byplay. "Make preparations. We move when the ti is right."
Let the snipe and the clam fight. The fisherman would take the prize.
He had already decided. He would wait until the Triarchy and Volantis had worn each other down, then strike.
One blow for the Golden Company. One for profit.
Early June.
The Stepstones saw battle after battle. The Triarchy and Volantis fought with growing fury.
On this day, both sides clashed at sea once more.
The Volantene fleet sailed boldly toward the Triarchy's temporary base in the Stepstones, intending to wipe them out in one stroke.
The Triarchy fleet t them head-on.
As the fighting began, the Triarchy started to fall back.
Malacho grew overconfident and chased them.
Boom!
Suddenly a massive scorpion bolt slamd into the side of a Volantene ship from the flank, punching a huge hole clean through it.
"What was that?!"
Malacho spun around and saw a new fleet approaching.
Dozens of Golden Company warships were sliding into the fight. Ten of the lead three-masted galleys carried giant scorpion crossbows mounted on their decks.
"Take aim! Ready!"
Black Barq's eyes bulged as he directed the crews. Two n loaded a heavy steel spear into each scorpion while others cranked the windlass and sighted.
Each scorpion required five n.
"Fire!"
Black Barq pointed at the Volantene flagship.
Boom!
Ten steel spears launched like dark cots and slamd into the enemy vessel.
The flagship shuddered violently. Its side was torn open. Wood splinters flew everywhere.
"Abandon ship!"
Sailors scread in thick High Valyrian and dove into the sea.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Nine more scorpions fired. The flagship was riddled with holes. Water poured in. She began to list and sink.
Malacho was stunned. "Where did these bastards get weapons like that?!"
"Counterattack!"
Seeing their new allies arrive, the Triarchy pirates roared with renewed fury and charged, eager for the boarding fights they loved.
The scorpion crossbows were not the Golden Company's own. Lys's archons had paid for them.
Tregar Ormollen had hired alchemists to copy the designs, originally intending to mount them in Lys itself as defense against dragon attacks.
But war was war. The weapons had been stripped down and shipped to the front.
With the newly ard Golden Company joining the fight, the tide turned.
The Volantenes were now outnumbered and outgunned. Their catapults could no longer dominate at range. They were dragged into chaotic boarding actions.
"Fight! Don't be afraid!"
Malacho shouted orders while quietly slipping his own ship toward the rear.
To his credit, the Volantenes fought hard.
Once the battle turned to boarding, the scorpions couldn't fire freely. Both sides locked in a brutal stalemate.
"What do we do? Think of sothing!"
Malacho grabbed his lieutenant by the collar, ready to throw him overboard.
The lieutenant stamred. He had no ideas.
Who could have guessed the Triarchy would spend so freely?
"Play dead or I'll throw you in the sea myself!"
Malacho was a cruel man. Born inside the Black Walls, he looked down on everyone.
"My lord, I—"
The lieutenant started to protest.
"Hiss-graa—!"
A streak of blazing red tore across the sky. A massive shape burst through the thick clouds, crimson wings spread wide, and appeared directly above the battlefield.
"Caraxes. Dragonfire."
Daeron's eyes locked onto one of the scorpion crossbows.
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