Chapter 36: The Serpent's Fang Strikes North
The interrogation of Lyra Maelon had been a dam breached, unleashing a torrent of dark secrets that now fueled King Baelon's cold, calculating fury. Her ultimate fate was swift and silent, a matter for Lord Larys Strong's discreet disposal teams once every last whisper of information had been wrung from her shattered psyche. Baelon had no use for broken tools, only for the knowledge they yielded. And that knowledge was now being weaponized.
In his war room within the Great Pyramid, surrounded by maps detailing not just coastlines and cities but also the newly charted depths of Braavosi intrigue, Baelon plotted his next moves with chilling precision. The Voldemort soul within him, that ancient, indomitable will, relished this intricate dance of power, espionage, and impending annihilation. This was no mere conquest of territory; it was an unmaking of an ancient order, a shadow war against a god of the abyss and its fanatical devotees. His ambition, always vast, now took on an almost cosmic scope. He would not just rule; he would cleanse.
The purge Lyra's confessions had triggered was already underway across his Essosi protectorate, a brutal but necessary excision of the Drowned Brethren's hidden cells. From the opulent manors of Volantene merchant princes who dabbled in forbidden lore for power, to the grimy back alleys of Lyseni pleasure houses where secrets were traded alongside flesh, Larys Strong's agents moved with the silent lethality of their master. Arrests were rare; disappearances became common. Fear, already a constant companion in Baelon's domains, deepened into a primal dread of unseen eyes and swift retribution.
Archmaester Vaellyn and his scholars in Meereen worked feverishly on the artifacts Lyra had possessed and the biological samples from "Echo of Stillness." They confirmed that the Abyssal Lodestones – the nine-armed kraken coins – resonated with a peculiar, low-frequency magical energy, one that seemed to pulse in sympathy with the tides, regardless of proximity to the sea. Vaellyn theorized that these were indeed linked to larger "Beacons," likely submerged or hidden in places of significant geothermal or magical activity, allowing for untraceable communication and perhaps even the channeling of power. The assassin's blood, they found, contained unique proteins that facilitated rapid cellular regeneration and adaptation, explaining her uncanny ability to reshape her form and recover from grievous wounds, though Vaellyn suspected this process was immensely painful and energetically costly, likely requiring periods of deep recuperation in environments saturated with the cult's specific abyssal energies.
The Titan Stirs, The Sea Rebels
News of Braavos's "Grand Mobilization of the Titan's Fleet" was not long in manifesting into action. Scout ships from Aemond's newly established base in the Basilisk Isles reported large flotillas of Braavosi warships, their distinctive purple sails like bruises on the horizon, moving southwards. These were not mere trade galleys; they were sleek, fast war-galleys and heavier, oared dromons, their decks bristling with marines and siege engines.
The first major clash occurred near the Stepstones, where a Braavosi squadron, attempting to escort a vital convoy of timber and iron from Qohor (likely financed by the Iron Bank to circumvent Baelon's sanctions), encountered a Velaryon patrol led by one of Lord Corlys's more aggressive nephews, Ser Vaemond Velaryon. Vaemond, eager to prove his house's martial prowess even under Baelon's restrictive directives, engaged immediately.
The battle was fierce and bloody. The Braavosi fought with their famed skill, their ships maneuvering with uncanny speed, attempting to grapple and board. They employed pots of burning pitch and volleys of heavy crossbow bolts. Vaemond's ships, heavier and more reliant on their archers and scorpions, initially struggled against the Braavosi agility. However, the tide turned when three of Rhaenyra's younger dragons, Syrax, Vermax, and Arrax, accompanying the Velaryon fleet under the command of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon (a calculated show of Targaryen support and a test of the young princes' mettle), descended upon the Braavosi. Dragonflame proved a terrifyingly effective counter to Braavosi seamanship. Two Braavosi war-galleys were incinerated, their crews leaping into the sea, only to be picked off by Velaryon archers. The remaining Braavosi ships, battered and demoralized, broke off the engagement and fled northwards, abandoning their convoy, which was promptly seized by the Velaryons.
The victory was a morale boost for Baelon's forces, but it also served as a stark reminder of Braavos's naval strength and determination. Larys's spies in Braavos reported that the news of the defeat, particularly the involvement of dragons so far south, caused outrage and renewed calls for decisive action. The Sealord, Ferrego Antaryon, was said to have sworn a blood oath in the sight of the Titan to avenge the loss.
Simultaneously, the "pro-bono" services of the Faceless Men began to manifest in more insidious ways. Lord Crakehall, Baelon's unimaginative but loyal governor in Yunkai, narrowly survived an assassination attempt. A venomous sand viper, a creature not native to Yunkai's immediate environs but known for its lethal bite, was found coiled in his bedclothes. Only the sharp eyes of his new Volantene bedslave, a woman whose family had been saved by Baelon's conquest, prevented his demise. The incident bore the hallmarks of a Faceless Man – subtle, deniable, using local elements to mask their involvement. While Crakehall was not a significant strategic loss in himself, his death would have caused considerable administrative disruption. Security around all of Baelon's key commanders was immediately, and drastically, increased.
The Purge Yields Its Grim Harvest
Larys Strong's purges across the Valyrian Protectorate were conducted with surgical brutality. In Volantis, a hidden temple to a "Many-Angled Navigator" (a clear euphemism for the Drowned God, given the nine-limbed kraken carvings found within its damp, subterranean chambers) was unearthed beneath the cellars of a prominent Old Blood family known for its extensive shipping interests. The family, along with their attendant priests and acolytes, vanished overnight. Their considerable wealth, including several more Abyssal Lodestones and texts bound in what appeared to be tanned human skin, now flowed into Baelon's coffers and Vaellyn's research labs.
In Myr, a cabal of artisan-mages, famed for their intricate lenses and mirrors, were discovered to be using their craft to create scrying devices attuned to the specific frequencies of the Drowned Brethren's Beacons, allowing them to spy on rival merchant houses and, potentially, Baelon's own administration. Their workshops were razed, their knowledge confiscated.
These purges, while effective in disrupting the cult's immediate network, also served to further terrorize the populace, reinforcing Baelon's image as an omniscient, omnipotent ruler whose wrath was inescapable. The Voldemort soul within him approved; fear was the bedrock of true, lasting order.
Archmaester Vaellyn, fueled by the new artifacts and texts, made a significant breakthrough. He determined that the Abyssal Lodestones did indeed function as a form of sympathetic telegraphy, but their power could be amplified or disrupted by certain sonic frequencies and specific magnetic fields. He also theorized, based on the esoteric texts, that the primary "Grand Beacon" of the Drowned Brethren was not in Braavos itself, which was too geologically stable, but likely hidden within a vast, submerged volcanic caldera known as the "Kraken's Maw," located in a desolate, fog-choked region of the Shivering Sea, north-east of Ibben – a place spoken of in sailors' legends as a ship-swallower, where the veil between worlds was thin. This, Vaellyn posited, was likely where "Echo of Stillness" and other high-ranking cultists went to commune with their abyssal master or to regenerate their unnatural abilities.
The Serpent's Fang is Honed
Armed with this new intelligence – the location of the probable Grand Beacon, the knowledge of the cult's communication methods, and the confirmation of Braavos's escalating aggression – Baelon Targaryen prepared his counterstroke. He would not launch a full-scale invasion of Braavos; the Titan's fleet, though bloodied, was still formidable, and a direct assault on the city of a hundred isles remained a costly, high-risk endeavor. Instead, he opted for a series of surgical, devastating strikes designed to cripple the Drowned Brethren's leadership, disrupt their operations, and send an unequivocal message to the Sealord and the Iron Bank.
His primary target: the Kraken's Maw, the supposed location of the Grand Beacon.
"Prince Aemond," Baelon commanded, his voice echoing in the war room as he addressed his half-brother via a long-distance scrying mirror maintained by his most powerful mages, "your campaign in the Basilisk Isles has been… adequate. You have secured a valuable outpost. Now, a task more suited to Vhagar's temperament, and your own. You will take your fleet, your legion, your Unsullied, and Vhagar. You will sail north, under utmost secrecy, to this 'Kraken's Maw'." He indicated its presumed location on a nautical chart. "Your objective is twofold: locate and utterly destroy this Grand Beacon of the Drowned Brethren. If it is a physical structure, melt it to slag. If it is a magical phenomenon, Vaellyn will provide you with devices and incantations designed to disrupt it. Secondly, I want any cultists, priests, or guardians found there eliminated. Take no prisoners, unless they possess knowledge of the assassin 'Echo of Stillness' or the cult's highest echelons. I want that abyssal pit rendered silent and lightless."
Aemond's single sapphire eye gleamed with savage anticipation. "A hunt in the frozen north, Brother? Against a drowned god's lair? Vhagar will enjoy stretching her wings in colder climes. Consider it done."
For the second part of his counterstroke, Baelon turned to his own resources. He would personally lead a strike, but not against a military target. Lyra Maelon had revealed the names of several Keyholder families in Braavos who were not just sympathetic to the Drowned Brethren, but active members, their ancestral vaults supposedly containing hidden shrines and considerable wealth funneled towards the cult's activities. One such family, the Antarions (no direct relation to the Sealord, but a cadet branch of significant influence within the Iron Bank), had a secluded island villa several leagues south of Braavos, used for private retreats and, Lyra had confessed under extreme duress, for certain… initiatory rites.
"Lord Larys," Baelon said, "you will prepare a detailed dossier on this Antarion villa – its defenses, its household, its routines. Archmaester Vaellyn, you will devise a method to temporarily neutralize any aquatic or abyssal wards they might employ. I intend to pay them a personal visit. Silverwing and I, along with a small, handpicked force of my Dragon Guard and Kael's most silent Freedmen. We will deliver a message directly to the heart of the Kraken's worshippers."
The plan was audacious. Aemond would strike at the cult's spiritual nexus in the far north, a display of overwhelming destructive power. Baelon himself would conduct a precise, terrifying raid on a Keyholder family's sanctuary, a demonstration of his reach and ruthlessness, designed to sow terror and paranoia within Braavos's ruling elite.
The Coming Storm
As Aemond's fleet, under a new moon and magical enchantments designed to cloak their passage, slipped out of the Basilisk Isles and began its long, perilous journey towards the Shivering Sea, Baelon finalized his own preparations. He selected twenty of his most skilled Dragon Guard knights and fifty of Centurion Kael's Freedmen, chosen for their stealth, their ferocity, and their absolute loyalty. They would travel on swift, dark-sailed ships, with Silverwing providing aerial reconnaissance and, if necessary, overwhelming firepower.
The fate of Lyra Maelon was decided. She was too dangerous to keep alive, too knowledgeable to risk escape. Larys Strong attended to her end with his usual quiet efficiency, her screams unheard beyond the deepest dungeons of the Pyramid. But the secrets she had yielded were now Baelon's weapons.
On the eve of his departure for the Antarion villa, Baelon stood once more on the balcony of the Great Pyramid, the nine-armed kraken coin cool against his palm. He looked northwards, towards the distant, fog-shrouded menace of Braavos. The Grand Mobilization of their fleet, the pro-bono services of their assassins – these were the desperate flailings of a power that sensed its own impending doom.
"They believe their god dwells in the deep, Umbraxys," Baelon communicated to the shadow dragon, whose immense presence felt like a comforting mantle of absolute power around him. "They believe its silence is strength, its shadows impenetrable."
The Voldemort core of his being resonated with cold, predatory amusement. "We shall teach them that there are older, colder, and far more terrible silences than those found in their lightless abyss. We shall show them that even drowned gods can bleed. The Serpent's fang is now aimed at the heart of their northern darkness. And it will not miss."
He crushed the kraken coin in his fist, not with the symbolic anger he had shown the marzipan dragon, but with a slow, deliberate pressure, as if testing its alien substance before its inevitable destruction. The tides of war were indeed rising, and King Baelon I Targaryen, the Ageless Serpent, was about to unleash a storm of his own making, a storm that would drag the secrets of the abyssal cult into the harsh, unforgiving light of his imperial wrath. The hunt for one assassin had transformed into a crusade to unmake a god and its ancient, shadowed dominion. And Baelon was eager to begin.