The Break

Heavy leather boots struck the smooth obsidian floor, their hollow echoes drawing steadily closer.

The Ironborn filed into the hall, which had lain silent for untold centuries.

The orange-red glow of their torches instantly stained the tranquil space, jarring against the cold blackness of the vaulted ceiling.

"Drowned God above..." An Ironborn tilted his head back to stare at the towering pillars and the vault soaring beyond sight, stunned awe written across his filthy face.

The firelight twisted and stretched across the mirror-smooth floor, reflecting their small, bedraggled figures.

"What the fuck is this place?" another Ironborn asked, his voice warped by shock. "Crow's Eye said there was treasure beneath these ruins. He never said there was... anything like this!"

"Treasure? Where's the treasure?" An Ironborn with fresh burns on his face looked around impatiently and spat bloody saliva.

"Since we fell into this shithole, all we've found is stone, mud, and those 'fire worms' crawling out of the lava. Not a fucking thing to show for it! Several of our brothers got dragged under, armor and all, with barely time for a couple of screams!"

Their gazes were naturally drawn to the raised stone dais in the center of the hall.

The Ironborn exchanged glances and tightened their grips on their weapons, cautiously approaching the dais in a loose ring.

The torchlight gradually illuminated its top.

Empty.

There was nothing on the dais, only cold stone covered by an even, exceedingly thin layer of dust.

"Fuck!" The Ironborn with the injured ear could not help swearing. He kicked the base of the dais hard, producing a dull thud.

"Fucking empty again!"

"No." A cold, cloying voice came from the entrance.

The Ironborn stiffened, immediately fell silent, and parted to either side.

Euron Greyjoy strolled in.

His dislocated arm seemed to have been roughly forced back into place, then crudely bound against his side with strips torn from his cloak. The fresh abrasions on his face looked particularly savage in the flickering torchlight.

His single eye swept almost indifferently over the breathtaking grandeur of the underground hall before settling on the empty dais at its center.

The unnatural blue-purple stain at the corners of his mouth gleamed eerily beneath the orange-red torches.

"It seems a rat got in here before us."

Crow's Eye did not speak loudly, but every Ironborn pricked up his ears.

Rather than looking at the dais, he slowly turned his single eye toward a corner in the deepest part of the hall, behind and to one side of it, with the teasing amusement of a cat toying with a mouse.

That was where the light struggled most to reach, where the shadows lay thickest.

"Like playing hide-and-seek?" Crow's Eye licked his lips, his blue-stained fingernails tapping lightly against the hilt of the dagger at his waist.

"A pity a rat is still a rat. Hide as deep as you like, you'll never cover up that... disgusting stink."

The shadows remained silent.

A few breaths later, something seemed to swallow the light along the edge of that impenetrable darkness.

A figure slowly stepped out, its outline sharpening from a blur. Steady footsteps struck the smooth obsidian floor, their echoes clear and cold.

Against a black base, a dark red sheen rippled in the torchlight like waves across water.

The armor's contours were sleek and fierce, its pauldrons shaped into roaring dragon heads. It covered every inch of the wearer's body, radiating a quiet, extraordinary power. This was no ordinary steel.

The visor concealed the wearer's face completely, leaving only a narrow viewing slit.

The Ironborn sucked in sharp breaths and instinctively retreated half a step. Shock flared in their eyes, then gave way to an even fiercer greed.

That armor was anything but ordinary!

The instant Euron saw it, a sharp gleam flashed deep within his single eye.

It was an overwhelming desire to possess an unknown treasure.

His gaze fixed firmly on the viewing slit.

Just then, the figure seemed to turn slightly at their arrival. A few strands of silver-white hair slipped through the gap between helmet and neck guard, strikingly conspicuous.

At the same time, the violet eyes behind the visor swept sharply over everyone, like flames trapped in ice.

Crow's Eye noticed the glimpse of silver hair and violet eyes, and his blue-purple lips spread into an oily smile.

"Aha... look who we have here."

"Our little lost Dragonlord not only found his way, but got himself a new suit of... rather impressive-looking tin."

His gaze passed over the shifting dark red sheen, a barely perceptible scrutiny flickering in his single eye. "This material... interesting."

"It seems," Crow's Eye said, his voice frighteningly soft yet rough as an iron hook scraping a ship's hull, "our little Dragonlord is quick with more than his tongue. His hands and feet are nimble too."

"That outfit... suits you. However..." His tone suddenly turned cold, his single eye locking onto Aegon. "I suggest you take it off. Now."

"Or shall I help you?" Crow's Eye looked Aegon up and down, as though appraising a priceless treasure lost and recovered-or a thief brazen enough to lay hands on his riches.

"It might be a little rough. Some of your blood is bound to stain those lovely plates... but I don't care." The murkiness vanished from Euron's single eye, leaving only an intense, seething hunger to possess.

Aegon's straight brows drew together. His voice emerged through the visor with a metallic resonance, yet remained remarkably calm. "You can try."

"Let's see whether I fall first, or your blade loses its edge."

His gaze swept quickly over the prisoners being shoved inside by the Ironborn, and his heart sank. Henry's bulky frame huddled at the back, his left arm hanging unnaturally and a fresh gash on his face. Carl stood ahead and to one side of him. She looked bedraggled, but had no serious injuries.

They were still alive. That eased his taut nerves a fraction.

"Heh..." A muffled, gurgling chuckle rose in Crow's Eye's throat, as though he had heard something amusing. He turned his head and casually waved toward the entrance.

The Ironborn roughly shoved the captive mercenaries forward. Crow's Eye gestured at them with his dagger, his tone utterly casual. "Look at these poor wretches."

"They could have quietly served as 'bait,' like the useless fools before them, and died a worthwhile death. Unfortunately, they weren't very obedient. They wasted some of my time."

He strolled up to a trembling young mercenary and patted the man's pale face with the cold flat of his dagger. "Now they have a new use." Crow's Eye turned back, fixing his single eye on Aegon once more, undisguised cruelty gleaming within it.

"Every time you refuse, I'll slit someone's throat."

"Starting with the loudest!"

The air froze.

Aegon's grip on his blade tightened, his brows furrowing beneath the visor.

He remained silent for several seconds, as though weighing his options.

At last, he spoke again, his voice still steady. "You can't have the armor."

"But there..." He raised his empty left hand and pointed to an inconspicuous gap in the shadows beneath the dais. "There's something else you might find more to your taste."

As Crow's Eye and the Ironborn instantly focused on him, Aegon slowly walked to the dais, bent down, and retrieved Dragonbinder from the shadowed gap, its length banded in red gold and dark steel.

The moment the horn appeared, the ancient magic within it seemed to awaken. Even the orange-red glow in the air seemed to tremble.

The Ironborn's breathing grew heavy again. Even the captive mercenaries stared wide-eyed.

"Dragonbinder." Aegon lifted it, letting firelight and starlight illuminate the twisted runes upon it. "They say it can bind a dragon's will. It's worth far more than a suit of armor."

The moment Euron saw the horn, the gleam erupting in his single eye almost seemed fierce enough to burn through his eyepatch. It was the most primal greed for power, for control, for a thing of legend.

He licked his lips more rapidly.

"This," Aegon's voice rang clearly through the hall, "in exchange for all of them."

"You get the horn, you release the prisoners. We both get what we want."

He knew the legend of this horn: dragons would obey its master, but whoever sounded it would die with their innards aflame.

Better to hand that dangerous prize over to Crow's Eye.

Crow's Eye did not answer immediately.

He stared fixedly at Dragonbinder, the light in his single eye flickering wildly.

Seconds passed, each one grinding across a taut steel wire.

At last, the savage expression on Crow's Eye's face receded like the tide, replaced by a strange, almost placid smile.

He nodded slowly. "A fair trade, boy. Give me the horn." He waved at the Ironborn. "Let them go."

Cursing and grumbling, the Ironborn began cutting the ropes binding the mercenaries.

Uncertain and suspicious, the mercenaries slowly gathered toward Aegon. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, lowering the hand holding the horn slightly as he prepared to complete the exchange.

Just as the first freed mercenary staggered past Euron, and most of the Ironborn were distracted by the process-

"Take him!" Crow's Eye's voice was bone-chillingly cold, without a trace of hesitation.

The three Ironborn nearest Aegon had long been poised to strike. Like hounds hearing a command, they roared and lunged!

A battle-axe and curved blades whistled through the air, hacking at the dark armor from three different directions!

Aegon's taut nerves and muscles sprang into action!

He had appeared relaxed, but in truth had remained utterly vigilant.

Facing the sudden assault, he swung Dragonbinder like a club at the enemy on his left, forcing him back. At the same time, he twisted sharply right and precisely parried another curved blade with his long blade, sending sparks flying!

The third weapon, a battle-axe, scraped across his breastplate, leaving only a shallow mark on the Valyrian steel with a teeth-grating screech.

"Heh..." Crow's Eye stood outside the fray, watching the melee indifferently with his single eye, a cruel smile curling his lips.

He waved lightly, and several more Ironborn howled and joined the fight, trying to wear Aegon down through sheer numbers. "Again and again..." he murmured, his voice like a serpent's hiss. "Who do you think you're playing games with?!"

Euron Greyjoy had never known the meaning of keeping his word. He wanted everything-the treasures, and every last life!

His patience had run out.