Mesalia curled her lips slightly when he said the last half of the sentence, but then stopped.
Her eyes stopped on the paper, as if she was re-examining the information that he had not directly seen yet - about her original ideas and plans.
There was a narrow gap between Redd's words and a plan she was preparing recently. Redd didn't know it, but she knew that the plan was only a few steps away from being implemented.
She originally planned to use the Dragon King fleet left by Redd to secretly cut off House Velaryon's remaining sea lanes and eat away at Driftmark's peripheral routes one by one in the next half month while Driftmark had not fully repaired its fleet.
Until the other party's trade income drops below the minimum line that is not enough to maintain the daily maintenance of the fleet and purchase dragon feed, even if the dragons and large battleships are not used by then, the other party will be forced to shrink on its own due to the break in the capital chain.
By then, all control from Blackwater Bay to the throat will be completely in the hands of the Dragon King fleet.
However, Redd's instructions require her not to push the opponent to a dead end, which means that she needs to re-evaluate the rhythm of the promotion and the final position to which Driftmark will retreat, so as not to trigger the bottom line of the opponent Dragonrider's desperate fight.
Her eyes stayed on the paper for a moment, then she raised her head, her tone still calm, as if she was stating an adjusted result.
"I will adjust the pace. The intensity of the interruption and blockade will be controlled so that the owners of the two dragons will not realize that they are being completely surrounded."
Redd looked at her without correcting her or adding any new instructions.
He knew that she understood what he meant, and he also knew that she would hold the line of propriety during execution.
He leaned back in his chair, looked away from her, and looked out the window at the sea surface that glowed with broken silver in the sun.
King Ghidorah has left with the Demon Dragon legion for nearly a day. According to the normal flying speed of the dragon group, they should be approaching the sea area outside Volantis.
After he finishes handling the government affairs at Dragonstone and hands the last letter that needs to be signed to Mesalia, he will set off to meet up with King Ghidorah.
The conference hall was quiet for a moment. The wind seeped in through the cracks in the window, blowing the edge of an unpressed piece of paper at the corner of the table, making a thin sound, like insect wings tapping the paper.
"Material reserves and remaining troops have been put in place, and the remaining government affairs have almost been completed."
Mesalia gathered the reviewed documents on the desktop into a pile and placed them in the storage grid next to the bookshelf, "When do you plan to leave?"
Redd stood up, walked to the window, and pushed the half-open window open a little further.
The sea breeze blew in, carrying the smell of salt baked by the midday sun, and ruffled the edges of his robe.
He looked at the thin gray-blue line that separated the sea from the sky in the distance. "Tomorrow morning, everything that needs to be signed will be signed. You can handle the rest."
Mesalia didn't ask any more questions. She bent down and packed up the last stack of documents, turned around and walked towards the door, her boots making a slight and rhythmic sound on the stone floor.
When she reached the door, she paused without looking back. Her voice was softer than before. "Be careful on the road."
Redd did not respond. He just stood in front of the window, looking at the sea surface that was being slowly ruffled by the sea breeze, his eyes falling further than the ship and the port.
The documents on the table have been put away, and the inkwell and quill have been returned to their original places. The cry of seagulls outside the window has become vague and distant at this distance, like a small echo from another world.
He will leave here at dawn tomorrow and head to Volantis along the route that has been confirmed many times to join the dragons. The affairs of Dragonstone will continue to run in the hands of Mesalia, slowly advancing in the directions he has charted in the rhythm and way he confirmed when he left.
The sun was sinking into the horizon on the west side of Blackwater Bay, dyeing the entire sky into a color that slowly transitioned from deep orange to indigo. The clouds were lined with a narrow and bright golden line at the junction of the two tones, as if someone had lit a slender wick in the gap in the sky.
Under the reflection of the setting sun, the sea surface lost the clear blue color in the morning and turned into a piece of crumpled golden satin. The edges of the undulating waves were glowing with fragmented light, like countless pieces of thin metal that were ignited and then extinguished at the same time.
The window of Dragonstone Castle opens to the west. From that position, the view can extend to the slightly curved arc where the sea and the sky meet, without any islands or rocks in the middle blocking the view.
The sea surface is like a mirror slowly stirred by the wind, reflecting the color of the sky, constantly being crushed, put together, and crushed again at the intersection of two kinds of light and shadow.
Redd stood in front of the window, with his hands on the edge of the window, his posture a little more relaxed than during the day.
His eyes fell on the slowly narrowing golden line in the distance, watching the light narrow and dim bit by bit, and finally seemed to be sucked away from below by something, leaving only an afterglow lingering between dark blue and ink. After half a quarter of an hour, it slowly sank below the sea surface.
His breathing was steady and even, and his chest expanded slightly with each inhalation, and then slowly fell back with each exhalation.
The air carried the unique smell of evening mixed with sea salt, dry rocks and distant cooking smoke. It was wrapped in the breeze blowing from the water, passing through the window cracks and brushing against the side of his face.
He has been standing here for a long time.
Over time, the sunset changed from dazzling to soft, from soft to weak, and from weak to a dark red afterglow that can only be vaguely seen at the westernmost end of the skyline.
In the corridor of the stone castle, the sound of footsteps in the distance has gradually dissipated, replaced by a deep silence that belongs to the night.
The attendants knew that he didn't like to be disturbed when he was standing in front of the window. No one knocked on the door, no one brought candles, and even the footsteps that would have been patrolling at the end of the corridor disappeared after a certain point in time. It was as if the entire castle was cooperating with the blank period before he withdrew his gaze during this period of silence.
He tapped his fingers on the window sill twice, then took them back and folded them on his chest.
He will leave tomorrow, and it is unknown when he will return.
From Dragonstone to Volantis, follow the route that has been traveled many times, arrive at the port that was expanded and stood on the ruins, rest there for a few days, and then leave all inhabited City-States and the port, flying towards the broken peninsula shrouded in volcanic ash, soaked in curses and death for thousands of years.
He has been waiting for this day for a long time about the secrets of that land.