The coming storm
As evening approached, the wind around Dragon's Roost Port suddenly became violent, carrying the salty and damp air of the Narrow Sea, making the pine forest rustle.
The dark clouds on the horizon spread rapidly like spilled ink, obscuring the bright morning light, as if foreshadowing the impending downpour that Vaegon Targaryen had warned of.
Daemon stood at the lookout point on the fortress's high platform, the sunlight sweeping across the bustling crowd below. Berna Brune's cousin Rosso Brune, heir to the Brown Burrow Mountain House Bren, was leading Daemon's newly recruited private army from Crab Claw Peninsula to help reinforce the drainage ditch's embankment; the sound of planks hitting rammed earth was particularly clear in the night's wind.
Rupert Crabb directed the craftsmen to weigh down the roof of the makeshift workshop with huge stones to prevent it from being blown off by the strong winds;
Gael held Mysaria's hand as they moved among the refugee tents, comforting the women and children who were agitated by the unusual weather. Her light purple skirt clung tightly to her body in the wind.
"Your Highness, the western section of the drainage canal is still twenty feet long and hasn't been reinforced yet. At this rate, it might not be ready in time for the downpour." Rayford Rosby ran in against the wind, his parchment ledgers rustling in the breeze. "Sir Ellyn Beesbury just delayed the allocation of a batch of timber, citing the need to verify supplies, saying it required confirmation from King's Landing."
A cold glint flashed in Daemon's eyes. He was indeed the "sycophantic villain" Garlan Tyrell had described.
Even our shrewd Master of Laws, Otto Hightower, probably didn't expect that the people he sent would be so foolish as to act at this time; it's practically suicidal.
He's trying to delay the drainage project today, which will definitely hinder the construction of Dragon's Roost Port and shake the morale of the displaced people if the torrential rains cause flooding. But what's the difference between him standing up now, acting all clever, and dancing on the tip of Daemon's Blackfyre and under the Dragonfire of the Glutton?
"Send Jarman and Harlan and a few others to the warehouse with their men and weapons to forcibly move the timber. Also, tell Sir Ellyn Beesbury that he cannot afford the consequences of delaying my work."
He dares to obstruct my plans today; tomorrow I'll send Honeyholt Glutton to the Reach and burn him in the Hive, wiping out his entire family!
"After all, the King of the Wild Dragons, without the restraint of Dragonknight, left its master and went berserk on its own." Even if Earl Lyman Beesbury himself were here, he would surely have to forgive him.
Daemon said in a deep voice, "In addition, have the warriors of the Black Hill Tribe assist in reinforcing the dikes. They are familiar with the swamp terrain and know where the dikes are most likely to breach."
Rayford accepted the order and left. He hadn't gone far when Jarman Waters rushed over, his one eye tense with vigilance. "Your Highness, that Maester Maron has suddenly disappeared. Our men discovered that he secretly contacted some young Tyrosh refugees this morning, saying that King's Landing had ordered them to be wary of the native tribes." He has now vanished at the edge of the pine forest.
"Trying to sow discord, and then try to escape?" Daemon sneered, turning around to toss a dried fish to the Grey Ghost behind him and patting his head before instructing, "You little rascal who's learned to Glutton from the Glutton, go find him, don't kill him, and bring him back."
The Grey Ghost immediately let out a sharp dragon roar, spread its light gray wings, and rushed into the pine forest like a bolt of lightning.
Despite its cowardice, this "cowardly dragon" was extremely obedient to Daemon's orders. Moreover, in just the past two days, this greedy little guy, who had been hunting on his own, had become quite familiar with the terrain of Dragon's Roost Port.
Meanwhile, in a secluded depression at the edge of the swamp, Alys Rivers stood under an old pine tree, facing the old chief of the Black Hill Tribe.
She removed her hood, revealing a pale face, and held a black stone engraved with ancient runes between her fingertips, whispering something.
The tribal chief's expression gradually changed from doubt to solemnity. He took the black stone, held it tightly in his hand, and bowed deeply to Alys.
Harlan had come to inspect the drainage ditch, witnessed this scene. He immediately hid behind a tree and watched as Alys turned and disappeared into the depths of the swamp before quietly retreating and reporting what he had seen to Daemon.
"Ancient runes of unknown origin—" Daemon stroked the hilt of the Blackfyre. Alys Rivers' recent behavior had become increasingly suspicious.
This black stone may be related to her origins, or it may hold the secrets of the Crab Claw Peninsula.
But who knows? At least, we don't want to know about the equally mysterious and unmentionable Black Dragon for the time being.
"Never mind her for now. With the storm raging, stability is our priority." He made a quick decision. "You take some men and keep an eye on Alys Rivers, but don't alert her; I'll go over to the drainage ditch and make sure the dam is secure."
When Daemon arrived at the western section of the drainage canal, Rayford was directing Myles Rivers and Tybolt Crakehall, along with the craftsmen, to fill the last batch of boulders into the breach in the dam.
The rain had begun to fall, with large raindrops hitting the ground and splashing up fine water droplets. The distant swamp was gradually shrouded in rain and mist, blurring the view.
"Just one more section, another half hour and we'll be done!" Johanna Swann gently wiped the rain off Gael's face. Gael's voice was tired but still firm.
These Tyrosh refugees and the Wildlings of the Black Hill Tribe fought side by side, none of them backing down. They knew that this dike was crucial to their future livelihood in this Dragon's Roost Port.
Just then, the Grey Ghost returned with Maester Maron. The little dragon pressed Maron's nape with its claws and threw him in front of Daemon. Maron was soaking wet, pale-faced, and muttering, "I am a maester sent by the royal family, you can't treat me like this—"
"The royal family sent you here to 'assist in governance,' not to sow discord or delay the project."
Daemon looked down at him, the tip of his Blackfyre lightly touching his throat. "Either stay and teach properly, and never interfere in any military or political affairs again; or I'll have Grey Ghost throw you into the swamp to feed the crocodiles."
Maester Maron was clearly terrified by the Grey Ghost earlier, and now he was even more frightened by Daemon, trembling all over. He immediately kowtowed and begged for mercy, "I'll be good! I'll never do it again!"
Daemon sheathed his longsword and instructed the guard beside him, "Take him to the workshop and have him help the craftsmen record the supplies. He must be supervised the entire time and not allowed to leave their sight."
The rain intensified, pouring down like a burst dam. The water in the drainage ditches rose rapidly, the murky water mixed with withered branches and leaves crashing against the newly built embankment.
Suddenly, a crack appeared in the western section of the embankment, and muddy water seeped out along the crack, causing the crowd to gasp in surprise.
"Quick, block it with sandbags!" Daemon shouted, and took the lead by carrying a sack full of sand and rushing over.
Rosso, Jarman, and Rupert also joined in, while the warriors of the Black Hill Tribe jumped directly into waist-deep water and used their bodies to hold up the sandbags.
The Glutton hovered high in the sky, occasionally spewing black Dragonfire at the accumulated water outside the dam, evaporating some of the floodwater and relieving the pressure on the dam.
After an hour of hard work, the crack was finally plugged, and the drainage canal successfully diverted the floodwaters into the Narrow Sea. Although the camp and workshops in Dragon's Roost Port were flooded, they did not suffer serious damage. The rain gradually subsided, and a faint ray of light appeared on the horizon.
Daemon, soaked to the bone, didn't bother to rest and immediately convened a meeting of the core members. "Maester Maron and Ellyn Beesbury are still useful for now, especially Ellyn Beesbury. Let them think their little tricks haven't been discovered, and we can use them to pass false information to Otto."
He looked at Jarman, "Any new developments from Alys Rivers' side?"
"She returned to her tent alone, without contacting anyone else, and simply stared blankly at the strange black stone Harlan had reported," Jarman replied.
"Keep an eye on it." Daemon nodded, then looked at Gael. "The water in the workshops and houses needs to be cleared as soon as possible, and the craftsmen need to check the stability of the houses to prevent them from collapsing later."
The warriors of the Black Hill Tribe have rendered great service this time. Their rations and pay will be doubled according to their merits, and they will be allocated a piece of land near the pine forest to settle down.
Gael nodded with a smile, "Little Mei, Hannah, and I have already had hot soup and dry clothes prepared, and we'll distribute them as soon as the rain stops."
According to previous reports from Vaegon, the soil on Crab Claw Peninsula will be more fertile after this heavy rain, making it ideal for planting salt-tolerant crops.
By the time the meeting ended, the rain had stopped, and the setting sun shone through the clouds, gilding Dragon's Roost Port with a golden hue.
The marshes and pine forests, washed clean by the rain, exuded a fresh, damp air, and the harbor's waters shimmered with light.
Standing on the high platform, Daemon looked at the restored order of Dragon's Roost Port and knew in his heart that this rainstorm was not only a test of construction, but also a test of the unity of people's hearts.
Otto's schemes were thwarted by the foolishness of his own people, the Black Hill Tribe was completely integrated, and the foundation of Dragon's Roost Port became even more solid during this crisis.
But Alys Rivers ' secrets and the undercurrents of King's Landing still lurk in the shadows, and the road ahead remains full of challenges.
However, at this moment, Alys Rivers had also come out of her tent and was distributing the potions that she had prepared at some unknown time with Gael.
As for King's Landing, he would return the King's Landing after tomorrow to participate in his "temporarily" final Small Council, where he would plant a permanent "spy" within its Small Council.