Chapter 421: Encountering Sea Smoke

The environment of the Dornish Desert, where oases are scarce, makes it difficult for civilians to survive, causing them to flock to the Vulture Mountains. This issue, reported earlier this year, has now escalated into a significant problem.

Viserys frowned, confused. "It's just a group of disorderly people. Even if there are tens of thousands, the two passes should be able to handle it."

The Boneway was treacherous, with Blackhaven strategically positioned halfway through. The exit of the Prince's Pass was at Nightsong in the Dornish Borderlands, the territory of Lord Royce Caron, House Caron.

This territory was supported by House Tully to the west and led to Highgarden to the north. Whenever there was a rebellion in Dorne, large numbers of garrison troops were sent to defend The Reach.

Tormund sighed softly and explained, "Lady Jeyne of Eyrie City sent a message that the Sealord of Braavos recruited tens of thousands of mercenaries and transported them to Dorne for support."

Tens of thousands of people sounded like a lot, but in fact, only a dozen or so ships were needed, and they could be smuggled in batches with several round trips. Dorne was allied with the Triarchy and had always been adept at using mercenaries for their charges.

Viserys was stunned, aware of the danger. He stood and looked at the map, pointing out, "The Dornish sent their main force into the Stormlands, and the mercenaries and stragglers poured into the Vulture Mountains. Is this an attempt to fight on two fronts?"

As he said this, his finger pointed at the Disputed Lands and the Iron Islands, his face hardening. "With the Triarchy holding our main forces in check, and the Iron Islands taking the opportunity to invade the Westerlands and the Reach, we'll be stretched thin."

The weaker a person's mind was, the easier it was to see something in the worst possible light. Ironically, sometimes that kind of thinking was very close to the truth.

Lyonel and Otto stood up almost simultaneously and looked around at the map. Corlys' face fell, and the large hand holding the tablecloth clenched with tension.

Hearing the king's speculations, the possibilities seemed great indeed. Otto looked at Corlys and said flatly, "According to the current situation, Dorne has significant intentions of invading the realm, and the Vulture Mountains will be a trouble."

Another layer of meaning was implied. With Dorne paying such a high price, the sneaking up on Sunspear scenario would be difficult to pull off. After all, Qoren was no fool who only cared about his head and not his tail.

Corlys' face darkened even more, and not bothering to argue, he suggested, "There's no problem with sending troops from the Stepstones Islands. Sneaking an attack on Sunspear is more practical than sending reinforcements from the sea to aid the Stormlands."

Since there was a change in the Vulture Mountains, the sooner the war in the Stormlands was pacified, the better. Sunfyre plus two thousand naval forces would be more useful than the five thousand army that the King's Landing had temporarily conscripted.

"What about the Vulture Mountains?" Viserys asked bluntly, his eyes filled with inexplicable meaning.

"We can send word to Highgarden and Blackhaven to fortify the pass," Tormund replied.

"Tens of thousands of mercenaries, tens of thousands of refuges, plus the siege equipment secretly provided by Braavos..." Viserys raised his head, reciting Dorn's home base word for word. "With such thorough preparations, Blackhaven and Nightsong may not be able to hold them."

"Your Grace?" Tormund was confused for a moment, unsure of what the king meant. Otto and the others also looked puzzled, staring at the king in surprise.

It wasn't that fortresses hadn't been lost in history, but it seemed as if the king was almost expecting it.

Viserys felt uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gazes, lightly coughing twice to cover up his discomfort. His expression immediately turned serious. "The Vulture Mountains have treacherous terrain. Hidden threats are difficult to locate; a dragon with the defending army is necessary."

Otto's eyes flickered as he countered, "While it's true that many savages hide in the mountains to avoid detection, the people aiming to attack the fortress will have to reveal themselves."

He casually pointed the holes in the king's argument.

Lyonel nodded, adding, "We don't have any more dragons available. We may have to wait for Prince Rhaegar to return to the mainland."

Laenor's fate is uncertain, and they can't ask Laena, who just lost her son, to fight.

With Rhaenys and Daemon guarding the three city-states, the only dragon riders they can mobilize are Prince Rhaegar and Aegon.

Seeing the objections of his advisors, Viserys straightened his back and declared with determination, "My lords, don't forget that your king is also a dragon rider!"

As he spoke, he wiped the weariness from his face, revealing a few shades of firmness.

Otto said, "Your Grace, Prince Aegon's betrothal feast to Lady Selene has yet to be held. Perhaps you should focus on that matter instead."

"Don't mention these pesky matters to me now," Viserys snapped, his face darkening with disgust. He was disgusted by House Hightower's attempts to profit through his son. Alicent had also been pressuring him to recall Aegon, making a lot of noise.

Lyonel added, "Dorne and the Iron Throne have a long history of enmity. We lost a queen and dragon in the War of Dorne more than a hundred years ago, and now we've lost a Velaryon dragon rider. With all due respect, the kingdom cannot afford to lose the king, even if the likelihood is low."

"Lyonel..." Viserys began, his anger rising, ready to argue.

The old and calm Lyman interrupted quietly, "Your Grace, the defense of the Reach is not as fragile as you think."

Viserys could barely contain his frustration. "I am a dragon rider. My mount is Vermithor, and I've even ridden Balerion. Do you think I'm a braggart or a coward?"

He just wanted to go to war for once. Why did it always seem like he was bound to have an accident? If his sons could participate in the war, why couldn't he, as their father, take action?

The advisors were silent, not daring to challenge the king's harsh words. A king could be a fool or morally corrupt, but no one could call him a coward.

After a moment of silence, Corlys looked around and let out a loud laugh. "See, Our Grace is so competent and doesn't lack the vigor to bloodily wash away the offenders."

He was truly impressed. He had thought that his cousin-in-law and king was still a coward with a weak character. Now it seemed very different.

Viserys, with a solemn face, said, "I'll ride Vermithor south down the Boneway, while Lord Corlys can sneak into Sunspear by boat."

Defense and offense simultaneously.

Corlys stopped laughing, looked around, and said in a deep voice, "Vermithor is an adult dragon second only to Vhagar. I support Your Grace's decision."

The Bronze Fury's name had spread across the continent for decades and had long been deeply rooted in people's minds. At least in Westeros, the Bronze Fury's prestige was greater than Deathwing.

With supporters, Viserys was full of energy and said, "I'm going on a royal expedition, just like a conqueror."

The advisors were silent, quietly looking at each other, unable to find a reason to oppose. It was a good thing that the king dared to go into battle and take on the responsibility of guarding the entire realm.

In Westeros, brave lords were more worthy of following. The brave Heir Prince was the best example. Every lord loved him and was willing to follow him into battle.

The council hall remained silent for half a tea's time, and still no one objected.

In the end, the king's proposal passed.

...

Outside the closed door of the meeting hall, two Kingsguards stood tall, guarding the entrance. Alicent, dressed in a green gown, stood nearby, picking her nails anxiously. Her daughter, Helaena, was half crouched with her freckled face pressed against the door, trying to listen to the discussions inside.

Helaena had returned to King's Landing from Harrenhal the night before. That morning she had heard of Laenor's accident and Aemond's disobedience, prompting her to eavesdrop on the meeting.

When the meeting ended, Helaena sat up, her expression blank. Alicent noticed her daughter's faint dark circles and approached her with concern. "Did you not sleep well?" she asked, her voice filled with motherly concern. In the vastness of the Red Keep, caring for her children was Alicent's way of finding a sense of presence.

Helaena shook her head. Alicent reached out and gently stroked her daughter's soft, bouncing cheek. "Don't be afraid. Aemond is well, and Ser Laenor will be blessed by the Seven Gods."

"I'm not worried about Aemond. He has his own fate," Helaena replied, her voice calm and measured.

Her thin eyebrows furrowed as she added cryptically, "I saw a fishmonger, working on a blue island."

Alicent looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Helaena quickly responded, stepping away and heading towards the door. As she walked, she muttered under her breath, "I need to check it out and caution Aemond on the way."

...

Day by day, time flew by.

Stormlands, East Coast.

"Roar-"

As soon as the white clouds parted, the black dragon soared into the air, its vast wings casting a large shadow below.

"Faster!"

On the dragon's back, Rhaegar's silver hair flew wildly, his black robe billowing in the wind.

Cannibal's vertical pupils were cold and indifferent as it lifted its wings across the lush Rainwood, startling countless birds into flight.

One man and one dragon moved with extreme speed, rushing towards Crow's Nest.

Halfway there.

"Roar..."

A sharp roar echoed, and orange and yellow Dragonfire laced with light silver shot into the sky.

The Cannibal's vertical pupils flashed with a cold light, and its flying speed slowed.

Rhaegar's heart filled with fear as he gazed into the distance.

In the southern part of the Rainwood, a greenish-gray castle stood majestically.

At that moment, a light silver dragon hovered in the air, recklessly spitting dragonfire and relentlessly bombarding the castle.

Rumble-

The castle towers were scorched black, the glazed windows shattered, and rolling black smoke rose into the air.

On the tall walls, there wasn't a single guarding soldier, and even the flags were carefully retracted.

A large portion of the defensive walls had collapsed, revealing the castle's dilapidation.

"Sea Smoke!?"

Rhaegar blurted out.

From a long distance away, he recognized both the castle and the dragon.

It was the Mistwood Castle of House Mertyns, and the dragon was Sea Smoke, now riderless.

"Roar..."

Sea Smoke's nose sniffed lightly, seemingly sensing danger, and stared at the black dragon approaching from the distance.

Its vertical pupils flashed with a touch of tyranny, and it growled as if in defiance.

Immediately afterward, it spat out another mouthful of Dragonfire at Mistwood below and then twisted its head to soar in the opposite direction.

Although it was furious, it still remembered the terror of the Dragoneater Cannibal.

As he watched Sea Smoke fly away, Rhaegar's mind raced, and he quickly called out, "Cannibal, go after it."

"Roar--"

Cannibal's green vertical pupils appeared gloomy, its wide black wings flapped, and it quickly stormed after Sea Smoke.

A young dragon, less than a third of its size, dared to challenge it. It didn't know what was good for it!

The two dragons chased and fled, flying over the territory of Mistwood.

Sea Smoke flew very fast and was in a strange state.

Whenever it passed a village, even if it was unremarkable, it would lower its stature for a dive.

"Roar..."

Sharp and violent cries echoed as Dragonfire plowed through the villages without mercy.

(Word count: 1,975)