"Ser Balon Swann," he commanded, "search the main keep and kitchens thoroughly. Don't miss anyone. Lord Rosso, search the maester's tower and the Armory. Earl Jack Clebbe, you're responsible for the stables, sept, and barracks. Drive everyone into the courtyard. Unless they resist to the bitter end, no killing. Those who surrender are also the king's loyal servants. We're not here to carry out a massacre. Watch the Mother's altar and the towers. Look for hidden stairs, secret chambers, and secret passages leading down the mountain."
The three magic dragons landed in the courtyard, eyeing the assembled prisoners who had surrendered. The atmosphere was heavy.
Beef and mutton were brought from Deep Den's kitchens. The magic dragons breathed fire as they began gulping down the meat. Once it was charred, the air filled with a scorched stench.
Real magic dragons, each with a wingspan of over twenty-five or twenty-six feet, amid the scent of fire and sulfur.
Gendry stroked Balerion's horns. He had tested how much weight he could bear and reckoned that once he grew a little larger, he could take to the skies as a Dragon Knight.
"Greetings to the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms." Earl Lymond Lydden, wearing a brownish-green woolen tunic, hurried into the courtyard square and dropped to his knees with a thump, leading the others.
Earl Lymond had even found a badge bearing House Baratheon's original Crowned Stag somewhere and pinned it on himself. He seemed to have prepared for this long ago. He was a very smooth operator.
"Your Majesty, blessed by the gods, I have been secretly embroidering stag banners all along, waiting for you to deliver us!" Earl Lyman burst into tears on cue, giving a thoroughly convincing performance.
"You even toasted me when you drank?" Gendry asked, looking at