Plans laid, the fleet sailed into the Narrow Sea
Frost condensed on the stone pavement of Dragon's Roost Port, chilled by the night. Crahas Hal's boots gently ground against the frost, producing a soft, rustling sound that mingled with the low hum of the longsword clashing at his waist.
The evening breeze swept in from Crab Bay, Blackwater Bay, and Narrow Sea, violently lifting his cloak, which fluttered like a battle flag about to be unfurled. In the salty sea breeze, the faint scent of dragon breath grew stronger, the mark left by the Glutton circling over the hills not far away. High in the sky, Dreamfyre's figure appeared in the air as usual, just as the people in the harbor had said. The pale blue scales of the magnificent dragon occasionally flashed a cold light in the night, silently guarding this harbor where undercurrents surged.
He walked briskly, the stone path beneath his feet leading to the brightly lit council hall. The light, like a torch piercing through thick ink, reflected the silhouettes of the warships moored along the way onto the water. The variant three-headed dragon pattern on the ship's side, symbolizing His Highness Daemon, appeared and disappeared in the interplay of moonlight and lamplight, as if it were poised to take flight.
The roar of waves crashing against the pier rocks was deafening, mingling with the lingering shouts from the training ground, weaving together a tense battle hymn. Every note proclaimed that hidden conspiracies, restless ambitions, and an impending game of conquest would all converge in the council chamber tonight.
Crahas tightened his cloak, shielding himself from the night wind. His fingertips unconsciously touched the hilt of his sword, the icy touch making him even more alert. The unusual movements of Gorne Greyjoy's fleet, Otto Hightower's scheming in the shadows, the false intelligence passed on by those two fools, Ellyn Beesbury and Maester Maron, and the burning imperial ambitions in Prince Daemon's heart—all these undercurrents had converged, and the naval power in his hands was the key to turning this game around.
The heavy oak doors of the council chamber were now in sight. The warmth of the candlelight seeped through the cracks, contrasting sharply with the chill outside. He took a deep breath, slightly suppressing his aura of menace, and strode in, meeting the gazes that awaited him and the impending moment of decision-making.
He strode through the streets and alleys of Dragon's Roost Port, the flickering lights along the way casting silhouettes of warships moored at the docks, the dragon emblems on their hulls, marking His Highness's identity, still faintly visible in the moonlight.
High in the sky, Princess Gael, the wife of His Highness, had Dreamfyre figure that flickered like a dark star. The Glutton also left behind the lingering dragon breath in the air, mixed with the salty smell of the sea breeze, which became increasingly strong and entered the nostrils. This was the aura of dragons and war, and also a sign that an undercurrent was about to surge.
The lights in the council chamber had long since pierced the darkness, like a torch piercing through thick ink. When Crahas pushed open the heavy oak door, the heat inside, mixed with the warmth of the candlelight, rushed out, creating a stark contrast to the chill outside.
Daemon stood before the council table, his deep purple eyes gleaming sharply in the candlelight. His fingertips lightly tapped the Summer Sea chart spread out on the table before him. Larys Strong leaned quietly against His Highness, his single eye narrowed, concealing a cunning wisdom that could see into people's hearts. Rayford Rosby, meanwhile, was looking down at the ledgers, the pen scratching across the parchment.
It was the only soft sound in the room.
"You've arrived." Daemon looked up at Crahas as he entered, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable authority. "I just received word from the Shadow Guards that those two fools, Ellyn Beesbury and Maester Maron, have sent away the false intelligence. Our Lord Otto in King's Landing is probably basking in the glory of his brilliant leadership once again."
However, just because these two guys are stupid doesn't mean that Otto behind them is stupid. Otto is simply being misled by the false information from these two idiots and is unable to extricate himself from his past arrogance.
Moreover, just before Daemon, he secretly rode the Glutton to Dragonstone to meet with the extremely "dangerous" and important prisoner Crahas Hal, and then sent a fleet the next day to bring Crahas from Dragonstone to Dragon's Roost Port.
Otto immediately pieced together the truth from the clues sent back to King's Landing, and at the Red Keep's Small Council in place of his close friend Viserys, he was the first to impeach Daemon before anyone else in attendance could discuss the matter.
Of course, in retrospect, it seems that they were simply fooled by the Hand of the King, the Hand of the King, Crown Prince Baelon, the master of Dragonstone, and even the messenger from the Iron Throne Dragonstone sent a symbolic messenger to question them, giving our Lord Otto some face.
Because, even before this messenger reached the Crab Claw Peninsula today.
Daemon Targaryen had already visited Caraxes Dragon's Roost Port, once again acting as the noblest messenger, just as he had when he left the Twins 'Daemon procession as a messenger of letters from family members, delivering letters from his grandfather Jaehaerys, his father Baelon, his brother Viserys, and other members of the Targaryen Lineage to Little Daemon.
Leaning on his cane, Larys's single eye gleaming with shrewdness, he handed over a scroll of confidential information. "Your Highness, news has arrived from King's Landing our Lord Otto, after receiving the false intelligence previously sent by Ellyn Beesbury and Maester Maron, has indeed lowered his guard. At the Small Council, he claimed that Daemon was preoccupied with port construction and had no ambition for expansion, and even attempted to 'persuade His Majesty the the Conciliator to reduce surveillance of Dragon's Roost Port.'"
"Very good." A sly smile crept onto Daemon's lips. "The more relaxed our Lord Otto is, the more time we have to prepare."
"Rayford, what's the current state of supplies in the port? The expedition three months from now will require sufficient food, fresh water, and weapons."
Rayford gently opened the ledger in his hand, his voice steady. "Your Highness, throughout the entire Crab Claw Peninsula, including the Crownlands and the newly reclaimed wasteland, the first batch of trial-planted salt-tolerant rye has yielded 30,000 shi (a unit of dry measure), in addition to the provisions previously provided by the Iron Throne and the grain stored in the port from all over the Seven Kingdoms. Of these, 10,000 shi have been stored in the naval base's granaries, enough for the fleet to embark on a three-month expedition."
Freshwater storage utilized distillation technology imported from the Myr Craftsmen's Guild after the war; each warship was equipped with distillation equipment to replenish freshwater at any time.
Regarding weaponry, artisans recruited from various regions are working diligently to produce crossbow bolts and longswords. It is estimated that 5,000 crossbow bolts and 1,000 longswords can be completed within a month, enough to equip the Marine Corps.
"Not enough." Daemon shook his head. "After conquering the Summer Isles, the armies of the three cities in Slaver's Bay are quite powerful, especially the Unsullied. We need more heavy ballistae and catapults."
"Have Little Horas to accelerate the modernization of the warships, equipping each capital ship with at least three heavy ballistae and two catapults to ensure absolute superiority in naval battles."
"Yes, Your Highness." Rayford bowed and immediately picked up his pen to take notes.
Just then, Jarman Waters rushed into the council chamber, his one eye wary. "Your Highness, urgent intelligence has arrived from Racallio's men. The Iron Islands ' Gorne fleet has been frequently operating between the Summer Isles and Slaver's Bay recently, seemingly plotting with the nobles of Yunkai to open a new slave transport route, bypassing their patrols."
Surround.
A cold glint flashed in Daemon's eyes. "Gorne is getting bolder and bolder. He's overstepping the patrol range of Racallio, who holds the Iron Throne's license. Crahas, what do you think?"
Everyone turned to look at Crahas, who had just entered the council hall. He had just arrived from the mansion and, upon hearing the news, said in a deep voice, "Your Highness, according to intelligence, the Iron Islands ' current slave Ironborn are fast and small. If a new shipping route is opened, it will hinder our future conquest of the Summer Isles."
"While his shipping routes are still unstable, let's send a fleet of fast ships to intercept him under the guise of supporting Racallio, who has the legitimate protection of the Iron Throne. This will not only disrupt his plans but also rescue the slaves, win over the native population, and send a warning to the increasingly rampant smuggling ships and pirates in the Iron Islands."
"That's what I meant too." Daemon nodded. "Colin, you will lead five improved speedboats, in accordance with the tactics devised by Crahas. I will write to Lord Corlys, who is currently serving as governor of the Stepstones, to grant you permission to ambush Gorne's slave ships."
Remember, capture as many of Gorne alive as possible. I need to know the specifics of his conspiracy with the Yunkai nobles, and then, under the guise of contacting overseas forces, accuse the Iron Islands of defying the monarchy and attacking merchants protected by the Iron Throne before the Iron Throne (Racallio possesses the licenses issued by the Iron Throne and the Joint Fleet). Seize the moral high ground and proclaim it to the world.
"Yes, Your Highness!" Colin bowed and replied, then turned and strode away to prepare for the fleet's departure.
With the council chamber affairs concluded, the following afternoon Daemon took Gael to the naval base to inspect the warship upgrades and...
Training progress.
Along the way, in the terraced fields, Rickard Rowan and Lucas Tyrell were leading the farmers to dry their newly harvested rye. The golden waves of wheat rolled in the wind, and their faces were full of the joy of a bountiful harvest.
On the training ground, Criston Cole and the newly returned Willie Fell were learning archery together, practicing crossbow shooting with the recruits previously instructed by Jarman and Harlan Hunter. The arrows hit the bullseye accurately, drawing cheers from the crowd.
"Dragon's Roost Port is getting better and better." Under the protection of Brienne Tarth and with the help of Mysaria and Johanna Swann, Gael leaned quietly against Daemon.
Her light blue robes fluttered in the wind, and her eyes were full of tenderness as she looked at Daemon. "Now that Lord Crahas is reorganizing the navy, and Rickard and the others are managing the farms under the guidance of professionals, and Rupert and Lyonel are training the soldiers, your expedition will surely be a success."
"Yes." Daemon grasped her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch against his fingertips. "Once I conquer the Summer Isles, we'll be able to establish our own kingdom, and you'll be the queen of the entire Summer Isles."
He paused, then added, "It's just that you'll have to wait another year before you can have a child."
Gael blushed slightly, avoiding the gazes of the others around her, and gently shook her head. "I'm not wronged. As long as I can be by your side and see Dragon's Roost Port get better and better, I'm content."
While the two were strolling in the harbor today, they came across the naval base and happened to see Crahas instructing the crew on boarding training.
The crew split into two groups, one group traveling in small boats to simulate boarding the ship from the sea.
The other team defended the warship, using wooden swords and shields to fight back.
Crahas stood at the bow of the flagship, shouting commands, "Maintain formation when boarding! One person provides cover, one person climbs, two people per group, coordinate with each other! The defenders must hold the ship's sides and not give the attackers any opportunity!"
The crew members followed instructions, their movements became more and more skilled, and their boarding efficiency increased.
Daemon watched this scene, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. Crahas's professional abilities were indeed well-deserved. With him around, the navy of Dragon's Roost Port and even the entire Crab Claw Peninsula would surely be able to sweep across the seas.
As the sun set, Colin's five fast boats were ready and began to slowly depart from the sheltered harbor of Dragon's Roost Port, speeding towards the Narrow Sea on the east side of the peninsula. He intended to head south through the Stepstones and reach the Summer Sea.
The crimson and black variegated three-headed Targaryen patterns on the sails gleamed in the setting sun, the ballistae on both sides of the ship gleamed coldly, and the crew was in high spirits, their eyes full of fighting spirit.
Crahas stood on the dock, gazing in the direction the fleet had sailed, his voice steady. "Your Highness, Colin and the others will surely complete their mission successfully. When they return, we will have evidence of Gorne's conspiracy with the Yunkai nobles, which will not only demonstrate the righteousness of conquering the Summer Isles but also prepare us for the future conquest of Slaver's Bay."
"I believe in them." Daemon nodded, his gaze sweeping over the warships at the naval base. "The warship upgrades and crew training need to be accelerated. In three months, we will set sail for the Summer Isles in our strongest form."
As night deepened, the lights of Dragon's Roost Port lit up one after another as usual, bathing the docks, shipyards, and training grounds in a warm yellow glow.
Crahas returned to his residence to continue refining the warship improvement plan and fleet coordination tactics;
Daemon and Gael stood on the high platform, gazing at the shadowy figures of the Glutton on the distant hills and the Dreamfyre swirling in the sky, their eyes filled with determination.
Ellyn Beesbury and Maester Maron "quietly" hid in their tent, compiling the "intelligence" they had gathered from Crahas that day into a booklet, carefully sealing it, and handing it over to Otto's personal messenger, who was disguised as a vagrant:
Under the oil lamp at the Alys Rivers Clinic, Bethany repeatedly studied the Old Valyria dictionary and classics that her Earl, Hobert Hightower, had specially commissioned to be sent from the Citadel of their hometown, Oldtown, some time ago, muttering to herself;
Alys Rivers stood beside the herb garden, gazing at Daemon on the high platform and the faint, flickering lights behind Daemon. The hood of her green cloak once again obscured most of her beautiful face, but a complex light flashed in her eyes.
The waves from the Narrow Sea crashed against the rocks of Longxi Wharf, lapping against the rising pearl on the east coast of the Crab Claw Peninsula, a place that controls Crab Bay to the north, faces the Narrow Sea shipping route to the east, and guards Blackwater Bay to the south. The crashing waves made a "whoosh" sound, as if they were opening the epic of this land, which was considered a wild and untamed place by the world, and playing the overture to the upcoming expedition.
The navy of Dragon's Roost Port is rising, and the horns of conquest are about to sound. The undercurrents hidden beneath the calm surface— Otto Hightower's scheming, Gorne Greyjoy's ambition, Bethany Hightower's obsession, and Alys Rivers ' secrets—will all surface in this war of conquest that will sweep across the seas.
Daemon gripped Gael, his deep purple eyes once again burning with burning ambition and determination.
He knew that the road ahead was destined to be full of thorns, but as long as he had loyal followers by his side, Gael's company, Dragonfire's protection, and an increasingly powerful navy, he could realize his imperial ambitions step by step and plant the dragon flag of Dragon's Roost Port and the Crownlands's Territory on every inch of the Summer Isles and Slaver's Bay.
In the naval base's dock, the last oil lamp went out, leaving only a few warships, more than half-modified, quietly moored in the water. The dragon patterns on their hulls were faintly visible in the moonlight, as if telling of their ambition to soon dominate the four seas. A war of conquest that would change the landscape of the Narrow Sea and sweep across the continents of East and West was quietly brewing in the lights and moonlight of Dragon's Roost Port.