Battle in the Gallows Fog, Serpents Among the Reefs

The morning fog on Grey Gallows was thicker than that on Bloodstone Island, so thick it seemed as if water could seep out of it.

The damp mist, carrying the salty sea breeze, lashed against people's faces like a cold spider web, and even breathing felt chokingly chilly.

The tattered ropes on the gallows swayed in the wind. Frost that had condensed last night clung to the blackened wood like a layer of shattered ice. From a distance, the crooked gallows looked like a group of lurking ghosts. Some of the wooden beams were broken in half, and the knots of the hanging ropes still maintained their tight curves.

Some of the bases are sunken in the soft black sand, and the exposed rotten wood is covered with holes gnawed by sea worms, as if they might collapse in the fog at any moment, guarding this sea full of reefs.

As Daemon rode the Glutton, suspended high in the air, he could feel the coolness of the mist through his fingertips. The coolness seeped into his bones through his fingers, and even the temperature of the dragon scales seemed to be absorbed by the mist.

With each flap of the Black Dragon's wings, it stirred up large swaths of mist. The mist droplets fell onto its scales, slid down the raised lines, condensed into tiny water droplets on its claws, and fell into the bottomless sea of mist below.

The Grey Ghost clung to the Glutton's wings, its light gray scales almost blending into the mist. Only occasionally did a small burst of Dragonfire from its nostrils burn a brief, bright hole in the mist—a hole that vanished in an instant, but was enough to mark the location of the reef.

Last night, before Daemon and his companion departed, Corlys specifically warned them that the reefs on the east side of Grey Gallows were hidden three feet underwater. At high tide, even the swift silver ships of the House Velaryon had to go around them. The surface of those reefs was covered with slippery seaweed, and if a ship's hull hit them, it would at least tear the planks, or worse, run aground. If they were attacked by Dornish fast ships, it would be certain death.

"Little Daemon! Over here!" Daemon Targaryen's voice came from the mist, carrying his usual carefree laughter, but with a sharper edge than usual.

Before the words were finished, Caraxes's crimson dragon shadow suddenly shot out from behind the gallows, splitting the fog like a burning lightning bolt. Dragonfire wrapped in scorching heat sprayed towards a crooked wooden frame, and the cracked wood was instantly burned with a crackling sound. The charred wood chips fell into the fog, carrying a pungent burnt smell, and even the surrounding fog was warmed up a bit.

Daemon immediately urged the Glutton to dive. The Black Dragon folded its wings and crashed to the ground like a heavy black stone. The black sand and mist it kicked up when it landed rustled against Daemon's leather armor.

Only then did he see the scene before him clearly: the old docks of Grey Gallows had been reinforced by the remnants of the Triarchy, the rotten wooden stakes had been replaced with new oak, and barbed iron chains were wrapped around the stakes. The barbs gleamed coldly, and the tips were stained with dark red rust—it was hard to tell whether they were traces of seawater corrosion or dried blood.

A rotting fishing net hung from the iron chain. The hemp rope of the net had turned black and brittle, and would break at the slightest pull. Fragments of bone were still wrapped in the mesh of the net, some were small finger bones, and some were jawbones with teeth. It was obvious that they were the remains of civilians or prisoners who had resisted them before.

A dozen or so remnants, holding Myr crossbows, peered into the fog. Their movements were stiff, indicating they had been waiting in the fog for quite some time.

The three-headed chain emblem on the armor, symbolizing the Triarchy, was damp with fog and had a dark rust color. Some of the emblems had fallen off halfway, revealing the mottled metal underneath.

One of the remaining members couldn't help but shiver. The bowstring dangled in his hand, drawing a glare from the person next to him, who whispered a few words of reprimand, their tone full of impatience and fear.

"They should keep those civilians and prisoners locked up in their lair." Daemon Targaryen flipped off Caraxes's back.

The Dark Sister drew their swords with a crisp clang, their silver blades flashing in the mist before instantly slicing through the throat of a nearby remnant. The man didn't even have time to scream before collapsing to the ground, clutching his neck. Blood seeped from between his fingers, quickly absorbed by the damp ground, leaving only a dark red stain.

"When Caraxes and I were secretly scouting just now, we saw at least fifty civilians locked in the old pirate cave. There were crossbows at the entrance, and anyone who went near them would be accidentally injured."

Daemon frowned – this time, the remnants of the Triarchy had learned their lesson and knew to use civilians as shields, but they were truly vicious.

He touched the amulet Gael had given him, which was made from a young scale of Grey Ghost. The edges were polished smooth, and the feel of the dragon scale calmed him down, even easing some of his agitation.

"When will the silver ships of Corlys and House Velaryon arrive?" he asked, as the light swept across the fog at the end of the dock, where the faint sound of waves crashing against the rocks could be heard.

"Almost there," Daemon Targaryen said, pointing eastward into the fog, his fingertip piercing through the thin mist. "I just saw the sails of the silver ships; their white sails looked like floating clouds in the fog. And Redwyne's fleet, their sails painted with grapevines, clearly visible even through the fog. Alyn waved at me just now; he's probably waiting for the tide to come in and circle around the reefs, after all, he doesn't want his father's ships to run aground on rocks. The North longships and the Crab Island fleet are almost upon us too. I even saw Manderly's ram gleaming in the fog; that thing is covered in iron plating, it could puncture a ship's planks with a ramming attack."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a sharp horn blared from afar—the signal of the the North Longships, long and piercing, carrying far through the fog, signifying that the Dornish fastships were approaching.

Daemon's heart tightened, and he immediately flipped over and leaped onto the Glutton. Sensing its master's urgency, the Black Dragon let out a low growl, its wings clearly ready for takeoff.

"You ride Caraxes to the west and block the Dorne ships, preventing them from reaching the shore to provide support; I will ride Glutton, with Grey Ghost, to rescue the civilians and our captured brothers, and burn the ballistae at the cave entrance; once Corlys House Velaryon leads his fleet around to the east, we will attack from three sides, leaving these remnants with no way to escape!" he commanded rapidly, his voice brimming with decisiveness.

"Understood!" Daemon Targaryen grinned, revealing two rows of neat teeth, showing no sign of nervousness. He flipped onto Caraxes, the wind whipped up by the red dragon's outstretched wings dispersing the surrounding mist and revealing more gallows below.

"Don't let Grey Ghost get scared by the crossbow bolts again. I remember the first time I saw it in King's Landing, it was hiding under the bed!" he joked, urging Caraxes to fly west before Daemon could respond. The crimson dragon shadow quickly disappeared into the mist.

Daemon ignored his teasing, patted Glutton's neck, and whispered, "Let's go."

The Black Dragon immediately took to the air, with the Grey Ghost following closely behind, like a light gray shadow clinging to its side.

The gallows in the fog grew denser, some with dried corpses hanging on them. Their clothes were tattered and torn, but one could see the style of fishermen from the Stormlands of Westeros— they were made of coarse linen, clearly people plundered by the Triarchy.

Daemon's heart sank, and he gripped the Blackfyre even tighter, his knuckles turning white from the force. He could imagine the despair these fishermen faced before they died, which strengthened his resolve to rescue the island's civilians.

The pirate cave is located on the western slope of Grey Gallows. The entrance is blocked by several huge rocks, leaving only a narrow gap, just wide enough for one person to pass through.

Two Myr repeating ballistae were mounted outside the gap. The metal parts of the ballistae gleamed coldly, and the wooden barrels were polished smooth, indicating that they were frequently used.

Four remaining soldiers were keeping a close watch on the movements in the fog. They had a clear division of labor: two were responsible for observation, and two were responsible for loading crossbow bolts. Their movements were skillful, and they were obviously experienced veterans.

The cries of ordinary people came from the cave, intermittent and filled with barely concealed fear. Some were women's sobs, some were children's cries, and some were the weak coughs of the elderly. These sounds came through the cracks and were particularly clear in the fog, making them all the more heartbreaking.

Daemon's heart clenched. He knew he couldn't wait any longer and had to act quickly, otherwise the situation would become even more complicated once the Dornish fleet got closer.

"Grey Ghost, fire the ballista's winch!" Daemon ordered swiftly, his voice deep and powerful.

The light gray dragon immediately swooped down, folding its wings, and charged towards the ballista like an arrow. It opened its mouth and spewed out a small burst of dragon breath, the flames hitting the ballista's wooden winch precisely. The dry wood instantly ignited, and the flames spread rapidly, quickly charring the winch black.

Seeing this, the remaining members of the gang responsible for loading the crossbows screamed and rushed to put out the fire, carrying fire blankets made of burlap. However, they were forced to retreat repeatedly by the Dragonfire spewed out by the Glutton.

The Black Dragon's flames were extremely hot; the moment you got close, they burned your skin. They could only watch helplessly as the winch was destroyed, their faces filled with despair.

As Daemon flipped off the dragon's back, the Blackfyre was instantly drawn, its black blade gleaming brightly in the mist.

He moved with incredible speed, like a black shadow rushing towards the nearest remnant. With a single sword stroke, he cleaved the man's shoulder blade, the sharp blade easily piercing through the opponent's leather armor, revealing the bone.

The man screamed and fell to the ground, the crossbow bolt in his hand still reflecting the purple poison on the arrowhead, clearly coated with a deadly poison; if it had hit him, even a god could not have saved him.

"Those who don't want to die, put down your weapons!" Daemon's voice carried through the fog, carrying an undeniable authority.

The crying inside the cave gradually subsided. Several commoners peered out through the cracks, their eyes filled with hope. They could see the royal Targaryen coat of arms on Daemon's body, as well as the dragon beside the prince, and knew that he was the one who had come to rescue them.

Just then, a shout came from the eastern shore, "Little Daemon Corlys! The main force is coming! Those Dornish reinforcements are trying to escape!" His voice was anxious, clearly indicating the urgency of the situation.

Daemon turned around and saw a dozen gray-painted fast ships flashing through the fog. They were Dornish ships, long and narrow, extremely fast, with the House Martell's sun-piercing spear emblem painted on their sails. The emblem, in red and gold, stood out conspicuously in the gray fog.

Caraxes's crimson Dragonfire burst forth from the mist, igniting the foremost Dorne ship. The sails instantly burst into flames, which quickly spread and burned the entire ship to ashes.

Without the power of the sails, the ship spun in the waves like a Leaf that had lost its way. The Dornish on board screamed and tried to put out the fire, but to no avail.

"Big Daemon can't stop so many!" Daemon thought anxiously, and was about to urge the Glutton to go and help when several heavy Westerlands ships suddenly rushed out of the fog on the west side. The ships were thick and heavy, twice as wide as the Dornish fast ships. The decks were full of heavily armored infantrymen who held shields with the House Lannister golden lion emblem. They were lined up neatly, and the rams at the bows were covered with thick iron plates that gleamed coldly in the fog as they charged straight at the side of the Dorne ships.

"That old fox, Taimond, has finally made his move." Daemon breathed a sigh of relief, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He knew Taimond Lannister wasn't genuinely helping, but rather afraid that if these Dorne ships escaped, the trade routes in the Westerlands would be threatened in the future.

After all, if these Dorne Sand Snakes were to gain a foothold in the Narrow Sea, the wealthy Westerlands merchant ships would likely be the first to suffer, and House Lannister would not allow their interests to be harmed.

Lancel Lannister stood at the bow of the foremost heavy ship, clad in silver-white armor, the golden lion emblem on his chest particularly striking.

With a command, the Westerlands heavy ship slammed into the side of a Dorne ship with a loud "crack," and a large hole was punched in the Dorne ship's deck, allowing seawater to rush in instantly.

The Westerlands Rangers leaped down, their battleaxes cleaving through the Dornish spears. Their golden lion-patterned armor gleamed in the mist, and the two sides instantly clashed. The sounds of clashing weapons, screams, and shouts of battle mingled together, echoing through the fog.

Lancel gripped his longsword and moved with lightning speed, piercing the chest of a Dorne sailor. The man's blood splattered onto his armor, creating a stark contrast with the golden lion.

"The lion of the Westerlands will not allow you vipers to run rampant!" he shouted, his voice full of pride, inspiring the soldiers around him.

The Dorne ships were too agile; although the heavy ships of the Westerlands were powerful, they could not keep up with the small, fast ships.

Three Dorne ships managed to bypass the Westerlands heavy ships and escape to the reefs north of Grey Gallows. There were more reefs there, and the fog was thicker. If they ventured into the reefs, it would be difficult to catch them again.

"Glutton, after him!" Daemon leaped onto the dragon's back, his voice carrying an unquestionable command.

The Black Dragon spread its wings and instantly took to the air, spewing out jet-black Dragonfire from its mouth, burning towards the stern of the escape ship.

The rudder was instantly burned off, and the out-of-control Dorne ship crashed wildly in the waves, soon colliding with a huge reef. Wood chips flew everywhere, the hull broke apart instantly, and seawater rushed into the cabin. The Dornish on board jumped into the sea, trying to swim away.

The Grey Ghost followed closely behind, and the small, light grey dragon nimbly circled to the bow of the ship. Its breath struck the Dornish crossbow bolts, instantly setting the quiver ablaze. The flames then ignited the ropes beside the ship, and the entire bow was quickly engulfed in flames.

The Dornish who had jumped into the sea struggled in the water, but were scooped up by the House Velaryon silver ships that arrived shortly afterward. The sailors of the silver ships were skilled; as they cast their nets, they caught Dornish in the water, leaving no one behind.

Corlys stood at the bow of the "Sea Snake," his white hair disheveled by the sea breeze. He clutched a secret letter that had been found on Dorne ship, his face frighteningly grim.

"Little Daemon, look at this! According to the Sand Snakes ' plan, Obara Shad didn't come at all. These are just bait. She took the main force to Cape of the Broken Arm on the west side of Bloodstone Island, trying to ambush our supply ship!" he said, handing the secret letter to Daemon.

Daemon took the secret letter. The paper was damp in one corner by the seawater, and the ink was slightly blurred due to the mist, but it did not affect reading.

The handwriting was messy yet menacing, clearly hastily written, "With the Bloodstone Island supply ship destroyed, the Targaryen fleet will be like a tree without roots. When the Triarchy reinforcements arrive, they will surely be able to trap them in the Narrow Sea." Every word was like a poisoned needle, piercing Daemon's heart.

"Oh no!" Daemon's heart sank, and cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.

The supply ship from Bloodstone Island just departed this morning, escorted by three ships led by Rayford. The ships carried ten days' worth of food and fresh water for the entire Joint Fleet. If they were to be attacked by Obara, the massive Joint Fleet would only have enough food and fresh water to last five days. At that point, the Three Cities Alliance would be in dire straits on their own, without the Triarchy having to lift a finger.

"Big Daemon, you take Caraxes and the Westerlands Fleet to pursue Obara. Make sure you stop her and don't let her get close to the supply ship. Corlys, you lead the Silver Ship to clear out the remnants of the Grey Gallows, rescue the native civilians, and ensure no one escapes. I'll take the Glutton and Grey Ghost back to Bloodstone Island and inform Rayford to change course and have him sail the supply ship to Crab Island for temporary storage!"

He made arrangements quickly, his tone urgent, each word clear and forceful, leaving no room for the listener to slack off.

Daemon Targaryen landed beside him on his Caraxes, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by seriousness.

"Don't worry, I won't let those Dorne snakes hurt Rayford —after all, he still owes me a jug of Arbor wine from the bet he made the other day!" he said, a faint smile playing on his lips as he tried to ease the tense atmosphere, but the determination in his eyes remained undiminished.

Daemon nodded, said no more, and urged the Glutton to take off.

The fog on Grey Gallows gradually dissipated, and sunlight shone through the fog onto the gallows. The crooked wooden frames looked particularly glaring in the light. The bloodstains, charred wood chips, and broken crossbows on the ground silently told the story of the fierce battle that had just taken place.

The longship from the the North had already docked, and William Manderly of the Manderly family, wielding a battle axe, led his soldiers to mop up the remaining remnants.

He was tall and imposing, wielding his battle axe with great force. With a single blow, he cleaved the boulder in front of the cave, causing it to collapse and reveal the crowded civilians inside.

Civilians poured out and knelt before the soldiers of the Joint Fleet, their eyes filled with gratitude. Some were even moved to tears, repeatedly expressing their thanks.

The Glutton's dragon wings swept across the sea, creating a gust of wind that whipped up huge waves.

Daemon looked down and could vaguely see the sails of supply ships in the direction of Bloodstone Island. The white sails looked like tiny white dots on the distant sea, which made him feel a little more at ease.

He touched the amulet in his pocket; its warm heat seeped through his clothes, strengthening his resolve to notify Rayford before Obara could arrive. He couldn't let the supply ship be damaged, and he couldn't let the Triarchy's conspiracy succeed.

The Grey Ghost shadow clung to the Glutton, its pale gray dragon breath occasionally spewing onto the sea, creating tiny splashes, as if guiding them.

Daemon knew that the Narrow Sea War surrounding the Stepstones was more complex than he had imagined.

Dorne's sneak attack, the reinforcements from the Triarchy, and the individual calculations of the fleet members—every step was fraught with danger, and the slightest misstep could lead to total defeat.

But he was not afraid. For he had the Glutton, the Grey Ghost, Baelon, Daemon Targaryen, Corlys, his brothers who had followed him since the beginning of his journey, the soldiers of the Joint Fleet, and Gary and her companions King's Landing for him in King's Gael.

These people are his support and the driving force that motivates him to forge ahead on the battlefield.

He will use Dragonfire and the Blackfyre to block every sneak attack and defend every inch of the sea until he completely drives the Triarchy and the threat of Dorne out of the Narrow Sea and restores peace to the Narrow Sea.

The crimson rocks of Bloodstone Island drew ever closer through the fog, and the sails of the supply ships became increasingly clear.

Daemon gripped the Blackfyre sheathed at his waist and whispered to the Glutton beneath him, "Faster. We need to get there before those serpents from Dorne and protect the supply ships."

The Black Dragon let out a deep roar, its wings flapping even faster, like a black lightning bolt slicing through the morning mist of the Narrow Sea, and flew towards the supply ship.

A new battle of interception is about to quietly unfold in the waters west of Bloodstone Island.