Five days later, outside Volantis.
The army of the Valyrian Freehold stood before the city.
Duke Arthur's main force of fifty thousand approached from the west, accepting the surrender of every outlying village, town, and stronghold along the way. Moro's Dothraki cavalry cut off all overland supply routes.
At sea, Duke William's fleet blockaded the mouth of the Rhoyne, cutting off Volantis's maritime supply lines. Volantis was trapped.
Most despair-inducing of all, however, were the two dragons circling overhead.
They had heard the legends of dragons, but seeing them with their own eyes was another matter entirely. Their immense bodies and the terrifying sight of King Ghidorah's three heads were beyond mortal comprehension.
The Black Wall, built in the days of the Valyrian Freehold, had now become Volantis's last hope.
The battlements were packed with soldiers: Volantis's elite Tiger Cloaks, along with countless civilians forcibly conscripted into service. Scorpions, cauldrons of boiling oil, and every other kind of defensive equipment were ready.
Archon Valerio Vaharis came to the walls in person to oversee the defense.
His expression was grim as he watched the mass of enemy troops and the dragons outside the city. With both their navy and army destroyed, this city was all they had left. Yet he remained confident. The Black Wall was imbued with magic and could hold back dragons, and the city had enough food to last a year.
"Let that Silver-Haired Bastard attack," he sneered. "Once his army bleeds rivers beneath our walls, once the other city-states come to their senses, the situation will change."
But news of the crushing defeat in the Land of Long Summer and the fleet's destruction had already spread throughout the city.
Those losses struck like a sledgehammer at the heart of every citizen of Volantis. Panic spread into every