Undercurrents in the Narrow Sea, Crisis on Bloodstone

The winds of the Narrow Sea, carrying the lingering smoke of battle, made the sails of the Joint Fleet flutter loudly.

The seahorse markings on the House Velaryon silver ships gleamed coldly in the setting sun, like a school of giant silver fish swimming on the waves;

The Stormlands battleship's Crowned Stag flag followed closely behind, its ram still stained with iron filings from the Battle of Grey Gallows, glowing a dark red in the afterglow.

Daemon stood at the bow of the "Blackfyre," his fingertips brushing against the Dragonglass fragments that hadn't been cleaned up on the deck. They were fragments that had splashed off when the Dragonglass ballista was fired yesterday, their edges still carrying a sharp, cold edge.

The Glutton soared above the deck at the stern of the ship, its dark dragon scales shimmering slightly in the sea breeze. It looked up toward the Stepstones and let out a low dragon roar, as if sensing the presence of something in the distance.

"Your Highness, news has arrived from the Bloodstone Island prison." Rayford Rosby rushed in, carrying a scroll of parchment, ink still staining his fingers, clearly a recent urgent report. "Jarman has written that Crahas is inciting the other prisoners in the cell. He somehow obtained information that Lord Tyrosh has sent thirty fast ships to support them and will soon capture Bloodstone Island. Many remnants of the Three Cities are restless, and even two guards have been bribed to secretly pass daggers to Crahas."

Daemon took the parchment, his fingertips tracing the words "Tyrosh Clippers" and "Bribed Guards," his brow furrowing slightly.

Crahas, the "Crabfeeder," is indeed restless. He attempted to escape from Grey Gallows before, and now, hearing that reinforcements are on their way, he wants to stir up trouble even more.

"Have Jarman increase security. Separate Crahas and Racallio, and chain them up with reinforced chains. One understands tactics, and the other can incite people; putting them together is bound to cause trouble. Also, find out who the bribed guard is and deal with them according to military law. Don't let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch."

Just as Rayford turned to relay the order, a series of urgent horn calls suddenly came from the western sea.

Those were the warning signals from the House Velaryon silver ships: three short and two long signals, meaning "enemy ships spotted, number unknown."

Daemon immediately climbed the Watchtower and raised his brass telescope to look.

In the distance, through the mist, a dozen fast ships flying the Tyrosh tricolor flag were rapidly approaching. Their hulls were painted dark gray, almost blending into the night of the Narrow Sea. If it weren't for the sharp eyes of the House Velaryon lookout, they probably wouldn't have been noticed until they were right up close.

"It's Tyrosh scouting ship!" Rupert Crabb's voice came from the side. He stood at the bow, holding a previously captured scimitar. "Light and fast, they're probably here to gather intelligence on our fleet's movements. It seems that Tyrosh High Lord has sent reinforcements again; their final counterattack is probably not far off!"

Daemon lowered his binoculars, his gaze sweeping across the fleet. "Roland, take three light Stormlands and circle around to the west, pretending to be lone transport ships, to lure them closer; House Velaryon silver ships, prepare your ballistae, concealed behind the sails, and fire when they enter range; I'll take the Glutton to the east to hold them off and prevent them from escaping!"

As soon as the command was given, the Glutton spread its wings, and its dark dragon shadow swept across the sea like a bolt of lightning.

Daemon rode on the dragon's back, the Blackfyre slung across his waist, the dragon pattern on the scabbard glowing hot in the sea breeze.

He recalled Racallio's words that "Lord Tyrosh hired mercenaries from the Disputed Lands," and that behind these scout ships, there was probably an even larger fleet.

Grey Ghost followed closely behind; the small, light grey dragon nimbly weaved between the ships, occasionally spewing out small bursts of dragon breath that briefly burned bright streaks on the sea surface.

This once timid dragon, who was so frightened by a cat that it hid under the bed, is now a master of various specialized tactics and an indispensable "living compass" on the battlefield.

Roland Clinton quickly steered the sailboat westward, deliberately lowering the sails halfway to make it appear damaged.

The Tyrosh reconnaissance ship took the bait as expected. Three fast ships accelerated and approached. The mercenaries on the deck held up their Myr crossbows, their eyes filled with greed. They probably thought it was a transport ship loaded with provisions and wanted to take the opportunity to plunder it.

"Fire!" As the scout ship came into range, Rayford and Rupert gave the order in place of Daemon, and several ballistae on the House Velaryon silver ship fired simultaneously.

The sound of arrows piercing the gray-painted ship's planks was piercing. Seawater rushed into the cabin through the gaps. The Tyrosh mercenaries screamed and jumped into the sea, but were stopped by the Stormlands longships that arrived later. They were either hacked down with axes or surrendered.

"The interrogation is complete!" Roland led a Tyrosh captain aboard the "Blackfyre." The captain wore a purple and green silk robe, and his hair was dyed bright blue—the distinctive attire of the Tyrosh. "This kid says that Lord Tyrosh has sent fifty more fast ships, and has also joined forces with the ' Broken Blade Mercenary Company ' from the Disputed Lands. They've already reached the east side of Bloodstone Island and have even intercepted Lord Corlys's supply ship left there!"

Daemon's heart sank. Although Bloodstone Island was the core of the Stepstones, apart from the necessary defensive lines, the remnants of the Triarchy Fleet from the previous battles, as well as the pirates from this area who were still scattered throughout the Stepstones, meant that Baelon, Daemon Targaryen, and Corlys House Velaryon were each leading their own Joint Fleet to search and pursue them.

Only Colin Celtigar and Clymont Celtigar remained on the east side with ten ships. If the supply line were cut off now, the soldiers and prisoners on the island would not have enough food for five days.

"Speed up! Get back to Bloodstone Island tonight!"

The fleet sailed through the night. In the darkness of the Narrow Sea, only the sound of sails fluttering, waves crashing, and the occasional low murmur of Glutton could be heard.

Daemon leaned against the dragon's back, his fingertips tracing the embroidered pattern on the edge of the amulet in his pocket, which was faintly visible in the moonlight. He remembered what Gael had said at King's Landing docks, "Go early and come back early," and a sense of urgency rose in his heart.

"Your Highness, the Grey Ghost seems to have discovered something," Rayford's voice came from below.

Daemon looked down and saw a small, light gray dragon circling a floating wooden boat, its breath scorching the wreckage and leaving blackened marks.

Those were fragments of House Velaryon silver ship, with seahorse patterns still engraved on its planks. It was clearly a ship sent to request reinforcements, but it was sunk by the Tyrosh fleet.

At Dawn the next day, the outline of Bloodstone Island finally emerged from the morning mist.

But the scene before them made everyone's hearts tighten:

The fifty fast ships of the Tyrosh fleet formed a crescent shape, completely surrounding the harbor of Bloodstone Island. Soldiers of the Broken Blade Mercenary Company on the decks raised their battle axes and fired warning shots at the island's fortifications.

Inside the harbor, three House Velaryon silver ships were billowing black smoke, their sails charred black, clearly having been severely damaged during their breakout attempt the previous night.

"Colin!" Daemon swooped down on his Glutton, unleashing a torrent of black Dragonfire that ignited the Tyrosh fleet. The ship's decks burst into flames, and the mercenaries screamed as they scrambled to put out the fire.

Colin stood atop the wreckage of the warship, his hand gripping his crab claw, his armor stained with blood, yet his eyes remained sharp. "Your Highness!"

The Tyrosh launched a surprise attack last night, cutting off our freshwater supply. Clymont and his men are guarding the makeshift well on the island, but they won't last more than two days!

Just as Daemon was about to order the attack, an explosion suddenly came from the direction of the prison—it was Jarman Waters's signal!

"Oh no, something's happened to Crahas!" He immediately urged the Glutton to turn, and the Black Dragon's wing swept across the gun barrel of the Tyrosh's Clipper, snapping it in half.

In the island's prison, Crahas brandished a dagger he'd tricked from a guard, inciting the prisoners to riot. "Tyrosh's reinforcements have arrived! Fight your way out and you'll live! Staying here means certain death!"

The remnants of the Three Cities gathered firewood from the ground and charged toward the prison gate. Jarman and his Dark Blade Guard brothers fought desperately to stop them, their Shadow Guards stained with blood.

"Grey Ghost, burn their weapons!" Daemon ordered swiftly.

The light gray dragon immediately swooped down, its breath striking the firewood in the prisoners' hands. Flames spread instantly, startling everyone into dropping their weapons.

The Glutton landed on the roof of the prison, surrounded by black Dragonfire, forcing Crahas to retreat to a corner, his dagger trembling in his hand.

"Crabfeeder, you think reinforcements can save you?" Daemon leaped off the dragon's back, his Blackfyre unsheathed, its black blade gleaming coldly in the morning light. "The Highlords of Tyrosh only see you as a pawn. Once you're no longer useful, they'll feed you to the crabs!"

Crahas's face was deathly pale, yet he still tried to resist. Suddenly, Racallio kicked him to the ground from behind. This mad "King of the Narrow Sea" had somehow broken free of his chains; his purple and orange striped hair and beard were disheveled, but his eyes were clear. "I told you, going against the Targaryen will only end badly! You fool, you just wouldn't believe me!"

Daemon raised an eyebrow, not expecting Racallio to suddenly turn against him.

Racallio grinned, revealing two rows of uneven teeth. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid! No matter how much gold Lord Tyrosh gives me, it's not as good as following someone who can win! If you can defeat Tyrosh's fleet, I'll help you persuade the mercenaries in those Disputed Lands to surrender; many of them owe me favors!"

Daemon didn't immediately agree, but instead had Jarman lock Crahas up again, then turned to look at the harbor of Bloodstone Island: "Let's deal with the Tyrosh outside first."

Rayford then delivered new intelligence. "Your Highness, the commander of their Tyrosh fleet is the nephew of the Tyrosh Grand Prince, named Marcos. This man is greedy and cowardly, but he is skilled at using chains to blockade harbors—they have chained their ships together, and our ships simply cannot break through!"

"Chains?" Daemon looked at Colin, who immediately understood. "The House Velaryon silver ships are light and can circle around to their rear through the gaps in the reefs and chisel through the chains; the Stormlands warships will hold them off from the front, using ballistae to bombard their hulls: Your Highness, you only need to lead the Glutton to burn their command ship, and as soon as that Marcos escapes, the Tyrosh fleet will be thrown into chaos!"

Daemon nodded, about to give the order, when the Grey Ghost suddenly let out a rapid dragon roar towards the eastern sea.

As everyone looked, they saw three fast ships bearing the insignia of House Martell emerging from the fog—they were Dornish ships!

"Obara's reinforcements?" Roland gripped his longsword, his eyes filled with vigilance.

Daemon stared in the direction the three ships had appeared. The sun-piercing golden spear emblem on the sails was particularly conspicuous. This cunning Sand Snakes was clearly not going to let the burning of Grey Gallows go unpunished!

"Splitting the forces!" Daemon decided immediately. "Roland, take five Stormlands longships to block the Dorne ships and prevent them from getting close to Bloodstone Island; Colin, you lead the silver ships to flank and break the chains; Racallio, you come with me, take your trusted men and persuade the mercenaries you believe in to surrender!"

Racallio immediately agreed and followed Daemon respectfully. This mad "King of the Narrow Sea" was not afraid of dragons at all, and even reached out to touch the scales of the Grey Ghost, which made the little dragon purr softly. A breath of Dragonfire gave the "King of the Narrow Sea" a new hairstyle.

The Glutton charged at Tyrosh's command ship first, their black Dragonfire burning through the sails, and Marcos was so frightened that he hid in the cabin.

Daemon leaped down, his Blackfyre cleaving open the hatch, just in time to see Marcos trying to jump into the sea to escape. He knocked Marcos's dagger away with a single blow. "Did your uncle send you here to die?"

Marcos knelt on the ground, begging for mercy. "Your Highness, spare my life! My uncle forced me to do this! I'm willing to surrender, and I'll even get the Tyrosh fleet to withdraw!"

Meanwhile, Colin's silver ship had circled behind the Tyrosh fleet. The sailors, chisels in hand, approached the chains in small boats, and amidst the flying sawdust, the chains snapped.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the Stormlands Fleet rushed into the harbor. The brothers Lorent and Theogood, armed with weapons, jumped onto the Tyrosh ship. When the mercenaries saw that the command ship had been captured, they all abandoned their weapons and surrendered.

Seeing the situation was not good, the Dorne ship on the east side tried to turn around and escape, but was stopped by Roland himself leading the team.

Byron Swann deflected a Dorne sailor's weapon with his longsword and said coldly, "Trying to run? The score between Red Watch and Stonehelm isn't settled yet!"

As the last Tyrosh ship lowered its sails, the sun was already high in the sky over Bloodstone Island.

Daemon stood on Marcos's command ship, watching Racallio persuade the mercenaries of the Disputed Lands to surrender. This mad "King of the Narrow Sea" was indeed quite capable; with just a few words, he got the mercenaries to lay down their weapons and even promised to help them get their back wages from Lord Tyrosh after the war.

"Your Highness, Crahas is going on a hunger strike in his cell," Jarman said, his voice tinged with helplessness. "He said he'd rather die than surrender, and he even called Racallio a traitor."

Daemon sneered, "Let him be. Starve him for two days and he'll behave. Besides, have the prisoners from the Dorne ships been interrogated? Why is Obara still colluding with Tyrosh?"

"The interrogation is complete!" Rayford approached with the confession. "The Dornish Sand Serpents wanted to take advantage of the situation to retake Grey Terror Fortress. Obaya deliberately withdrew her troops, drawing us back to the Stone Steps Islands so that the Tyroth fleet could launch a surprise attack on Bloodstone Isle—they wanted to coordinate an attack from within and without to completely cut off our supply lines!"

Daemon's fingertips tightened slightly, and his grip on the Blackfyre felt heavier.

The alliance between the Dornish Sand Serpents and the Three Cities Alliance runs deeper than he imagined, and the war surrounding the Stone Steps is far from over.

He looked up toward King's Landing's Landing, the amulet pressed against his chest, as if he could feel Gael's warmth at any moment.

Just then, a raven flew down from high above and landed on the mast of the "Blackfyre." The parchment tied to its leg, still carrying the incense of King's King's Landing, was a letter from Gael!

Daemon hurriedly unwrapped the parchment, and familiar handwriting came into view. "All is well in King's Landing. I had Brienne deliver the honey cake; it should arrive in a few days. When you return, shall we go to Dragonstone to see the Glutton ' lair?"

Daemon's fingertips brushed over the little Glutton figure drawn at the end of the letter, and a faint smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

He looked up at the Glutton and the Grey Ghost. The Black Dragon was dozing to one side, while the Little Dragon was happily playing with the silk thread on the letter.

"Your Highness, Lord Corlys has sent a letter saying that the defenses of Bloodstone Island must be reinforced as soon as possible. Lord Tyrosh will not let this go easily." Colin's voice interrupted Daemon's thoughts.

Daemon put away the letter, his gaze hardening again. "Inform Uncle Baelon to send ten Royal Fleet back to support us; also, have the House Celtigar ships and the Stormlands fleet return to Cape Wrath, and tell Borros that Dorne might launch another surprise attack, so he should be on high alert."

"By holding the Stepstones, we hold the eastern gate of Westeros."

The winds of the Narrow Sea blew again, and the red rocks of Bloodstone Island became even more crimson under the rising sun.

The sails of the Joint Fleet rose again, and the roar of the dragons mingled with the sound of the waves, like an unfinished war song.

Daemon knew that the Highlord Tyrosh's revenge, Dorne's ambush, and King's Landing's concerns all awaited him ahead, but as long as the Dragonfire remained burning and the fleet was united, he could protect this sea and the road back to Gael's side.

Meanwhile, in the distant Tyrosh, the High Lord Tyrosh, atop the Bleeding Tower, watched his fleeing ragtag army and, in a fit of rage, smashed his wine cup on the ground.

The mercenary commander beside him bowed and said, "My lord, should we ask Lys and Myr to send troops again? As long as we pay them enough gold, they will help us deal with the Targaryen!"

The Highlord rubbed his temples, a ruthless glint in his eyes. "Go! Tell Governor Lys that I'm willing to give him thirty percent of the Narrow Sea's toll; tell the Council of Myr that I personally will purchase ten of their repeating crossbow ships! I want to see if the Targaryen dragons can withstand the combined might of the Triarchy!"

The undercurrents of the Narrow Sea are about to surge forth with their fiercest wave—the final counterattack from Lord Tyrosh.