After the main fleet departed from High Tide, the fleet from Silver Crown City finally left port at a leisurely pace, with Sendros and Skyfire flanking the massive transport fleet from either side.
Rhaegor had no desire to foot the bill for Daeron's grand expedition, for which he had little confidence. But as a vassal of House Targaryen, House Vaelarys was obligated to send troops.
Originally, according to Draezell's plan, it would have sufficed for just Dan and Jacaerys, both dragonriders, to demonstrate the family's loyalty. But Rhaegor didn't feel comfortable sending only his younger brothers. So instead, he dispatched three hundred elite Silverblood soldiers, led by Aenys Rondell, son of Lord Aslan Rondell, to form a four-hundred-strong host together with the second and third sons of borderland lords taking part in the expedition.
The Silver Fleet sent twenty-three warships and ninety large transport vessels. Their destination was Bloodstone Island in the Stepstones. After resupplying in Tyrosh, King Daeron's army would sail to Bloodstone Island and rendezvous with the Silver Fleet.
The dragons would give Lykar Laclen a surprise.
Two great dragons soared overhead, while three five-hundred-oar warships formed the fleet's core. Around them, House Vaelarys's three-hundred-oar and two-hundred-fifty-oar warships were arranged in triangular formations, protecting the heavy sailing ships at the center.
The wind was favorable, and the currents too. Near Ghaston Grey, Prince Lucerys Martell joined the Silver Fleet with troops and ships from two Dornish princely houses.
Ghaston Grey, God's Hidden Tower.
Maelor Sunfyre stared blankly at the two dragons passing through the clouds and the great fleet gathering near Ghaston Grey. No one knew what was going through his mind, not until the dragons disappeared into the endless blue sky did he come back to himself.
For a long while, he said nothing.
He knew full well his own parentage. The strange visitors had told him who his father was.
That man labeled a "usurper" in the histories—Aegon. King Jacaerys I had not taken much revenge on his uncle, and Aegon II had simply ignored the matter. But Viserys never forgot. He carried out the will of his father, Prince Daemon, and made sure every current history book painted Usurper Aegon as an arrogant fool, greedy and ignorant, debauched and depraved. Together with his cruel brother Aemond, his grasping mother Queen Dowager Alicent, and his ambitious grandsire Otto Hightower, they had plunged the realm into rebellion, bringing devastating losses upon House Targaryen.
Maelor Sunfyre knew that if his father hadn't "rebelled"—or if the rebellion had succeeded—he would now be like the dragonriders he had just seen, mounted upon a dragon of his own. He had, in fact, once possessed a dragon egg.
Unfortunately, after Queen Helaena entered the sept to take holy vows, the egg meant for him had been confiscated.
Maelor Sunfyre sat in silence for a very long time. This man, no longer young, with almost all his once-proud silvery-gold Targaryen hair lost, finally staggered out of his chambers, picked up a bottle of wine, and began to drink heavily.
While Maelor drowned his sorrows in drink...
Morola Ulnar, the Volantene agent operating on Ghaston Grey, also saw the great fleet crossing the sea from afar.
"Gods above," murmured the Volantene, realizing at once what this fleet signified. "They're really going through with it?"
His shoulders trembled—no, his whole body did.
War meant chaos, and chaos meant opportunity.
They had finally found their chance.
Morola immediately dropped everything he was doing. He had to find Ayar and get word to the leaders of the Tigers through their secret channels.
The true dragons had arrived in the Disputed Lands.
Volantis's moment had come.
Bloodstone Island.
House Baratheon had once enfeoffed two houses on this island. But now, the castles they built were engulfed in flame.
"Racallio, you're not dead yet, huh?" Lord George, bruised and bloodied, was forced to kneel before the white-haired "Pirate Queen" Racallio by two turbaned pirates. "Not dressing like a woman anymore? Haha, or did your 'wives' finally get sick of your old, wrinkled ass?"
The once-feared pirate lord was now a withered old man. Gone was the flamboyant pirate king with a penchant for women's clothing. Now Racallio wore a loose silk robe, with leather armor underneath—more like an old corsair than anything else.
"Who are you?" Racallio honestly didn't recognize the Lord of East Bloodstone Island. He searched his memory for a while but couldn't place who this 'Lord George' was.
"Fuck!" George cursed. "Seven hells. Lord Royce, the lords of King's Landing and Dragon's Nest, they won't let you get away with this! The King and Prince's fleet is already on its way—they'll avenge me soon. You'll feel the wrath of dragons, you bastard pirate, you maggot, you goat-fucking mongrel, you piss-drinking—"
Before the knight, once ennobled for his service in the Stepstones War, could finish his tirade, Racallio's scimitar silenced him.
"Hang him on the coast," said the former pirate lord, staring forlornly at his old stronghold with a long sigh. He waved his hand, and his men dragged Lord George's corpse away.
"Captain, we're not pulling out?" asked one pirate, clearly wearing looted mail. He clambered out of the rubble with a look of disappointment. "This place is dirt poor—not even a scrap of gold."
"Back to the ships first," Racallio murmured after a long pause, slurring his words slightly.
The pirate grumbled about this miserable place having no treasure, spat on the ground, and called for the men to return to the ships.
Behind them loomed a dense mass of pirate vessels.
Racallio watched the pirates cheerfully returning to their ships. Then he sighed, looked once more at the place where he had lived for decades, and with a long sigh, cut off his pirate braid, letting it fall to the ground.
Then, without a backward glance, he boarded his ship.
The Pirate Kings of the entire Weeping Coast had formed an alliance. As soon as they received the news, they began preparing for war and quickly united under a single banner, appointing old Racallio as their commander.
"Damn it, I'm nearly dead already," Racallio spat. "And now they want me to take on this suicide mission."
He knew all too well what fate awaited this pirate fleet—but he came anyway.
He came with a hundred and seventy pirate ships.
This massive pirate armada annihilated the small fleet of Stormland on Torture's Deep, then sailed straight ahead and crushed two noble houses on Bloodstone Isle before anyone there had time to react.
The island was soaked in blood.
Just as Racallio and the others finished landing—
High above the clouds, Dan, leading the vanguard scout unit, spotted Bloodstone Isle ablaze and the dense pirate fleet beneath the clouds.
"Sendros, we're heading back," Dan gripped the reins and slowly pulled back, signaling his dragon that it was time to return and report.
But Sendros signaled back with a single word: Refuse.
"Burning is allowed. Battle is allowed."
Sendros let out a hoarse dragon roar, ignoring Dan's command to turn back.
"Sendros, listen," Dan said in High Valyrian. "There are too many enemy ships. At least wait for Skyfyre to arrive."
Suddenly, the dark green dragon emitted a low, almost inaudible roar.
"Stinger... coming."
Followed by a deep, resonant growl: "Burning... allowed."
"This…" Dan hesitated, but at some point, he felt as though his own blood had begun to burn.
He felt the same fire as his partner.
"Alright, Sendros. Engage freely—but protect yourself."
"ROAR!"
Dan pressed himself tightly against the saddle. As he secured himself, Sendros let out a thunderous roar.
The pirates heard it.
Then they saw the end approaching.
The clouds above turned green, and a sickly green flame poured from the sky. Three pirate ships clustered together were immediately engulfed in an inferno.
Screams erupted from every direction.
Racallio looked up sharply. "Archers! Ballistae! What the fuck are you doing?! Volley! Volley! It's a dragon! A dragon!"
The aged Pirate Queen kicked over a sailor and manned one of the ballistae herself.
The massive, antler-like horns of Sendros pierced through the clouds first.
Then came the rest of the terrifying dragon. With a single sweep of its wings, it knocked aside all the incoming spears and bolts.
The dragon dove, setting ship after ship ablaze as easily as lighting candles. Racallio watched helplessly as his own bolts were deflected by Sendros's vast wings—then the ship beside him exploded with a deafening boom.
The pirate ships didn't have time to weigh anchor and escape. They could only watch as vessel after vessel was incinerated by Sendros.
To make it worse, this dragon was frighteningly cunning. It feinted toward one ship, only to suddenly change direction when nearby ships clustered together in panic, so that each blast of dragonfire burned four or five ships at once.
Suddenly, Racallio laughed.
"Come, dragon! Give me a death worth remembering!"
He was going to die, but a great pirate should never die in bed. He should die on his ship.
And to die in dragonfire—now that was legendary.
Sendros finally turned his fire upon the flagship.
The newly built Queen Racallio was instantly consumed in an eerie green blaze.
The entire coast of Bloodstone Isle was drowned in a green inferno. By the time Skyfyre arrived and spewed a single blast of blue-grey dragonfire—
Only a handful of ships remained unburned.
And the Silver Fleet was still slowly making its way toward Bloodstone Isle.
"Dan! Why did you act on your own?!"
Jacaerys stared in surprise at his younger brother seated atop Sendros. In his memory, Dan had never been this reckless.
Dan sighed, patting Sendros—who had clearly enjoyed the fiery slaughter—then shrugged helplessly.