In the year 115 of the Conquest Era (115 AC), in Blackwater Bay, the late-summer breeze blew in from the east, carrying the salty tang of the Narrow Sea across every sun-heated sail of the Royal Fleet. Summer sunlight fell like molten gold upon every banner.
Blackwater Bay had never shone so brilliantly.
The three great ships at the front cleaved through the azure sea, their gilded dragon figureheads appearing and disappearing amid the spray.
At the top of the main ship's mast, House Targaryen's red dragon on a black field snapped in the wind. The sails of the escort ships on either side bore the silver seahorse of House Velaryon-these were the pilot ships sent by Corlys Velaryon, which had joined the Royal Fleet off Dragonstone the previous day.
Behind them, twelve three-masted sailing ships formed a wedge, their bows slicing through the blue waters of the Narrow Sea and throwing up white spray that dissolved into fine mist in the sunlight.
The flagship at their head was particularly magnificent-her hull was built entirely of dragonglass and oak, and her prow resembled a golden dragon spreading its wings to take flight, its gold paint gleaming in the sun. She was the Sunfyre, the belated gift Viserys had commissioned for Aegon after his Name Day four years ago, and now Aegon's vessel at sea.
The sea breeze carried a strong smell of sulfur. It did not come from the Dragonmont-Dragonstone was already half a day's sailing behind them-but from overhead.
Syrax circled low above them, her golden scales almost blinding beneath the fierce midday sun.
Over the years, the she-dragon had grown ever plumper, much like her mistress. Every beat of her wings held a languid elegance, as though she were merely enjoying the warm afternoon breeze rather than escorting