Chapter 280: Ghost Ship Incident
Time passed quickly.
On the vast sea, the three-masted sailing ship drifted slowly, like a fallen leaf caught in a river's current.
Gulp, gulp, gulp...
About two hours into the voyage, the gray seawater began to bubble strangely, resembling boiling water. Scorching steam, thick with the smell of sulfur, surged upward, and scalding splashes erupted sporadically.
Unable to withstand the heat, the mercenaries in the canoe clambered back onto the sailboat in a panic, seeking refuge.
Rhaegar leaned against the rail and watched the turbulent sea.
"My lord, the Smoking Sea comes from the region of the Fourteen Flames, so there are numerous volcanoes and magma lurking beneath the water," Robert explained, sweating as he removed his jacket.
The climate of the Smoking Sea is unpredictable, unlike any other ocean in the world. Active volcanoes intermittently erupt below the surface, causing constant crustal movement. This constant activity explains the ever-present haze and boiling appearance of some areas.
Rhaegar had familiarized himself with these facts before embarking on this journey, so he wasn't too surprised. He silently lamented the loss of the Fourteen Flames, once a natural dragon's nest. Had it not fallen, the Freehold of Valyria might never have fallen, and both Westeros and Essos might still be under dragon rule.
"Roar..."
A loud roar echoed from afar as a black dragon shadow pierced the haze and glided over the sailboat.
Rhaegar, snapped out of his thoughts by the dragon's roar, tensed, "Look out, there's movement!"
Swish...
The hired mercenaries quickly gathered at the bow, torches in hand, staring intently into the misty waters.
Robert, startled and nervous, asked, "My lord, why is the dragon roaring? What has happened?"
The pitch-black Cannibal hovering above the ship had roared for the first time, signaling something unusual.
"Not sure, anything can happen on the Smoking Sea," Rhaegar replied with a slight frown.
Cannibal was responsible for surveying from a medium to long distance to prevent the ship from encountering unavoidable dangers. Rhaegar sensed a warning in its roar—something nearby had caught its attention.
Rumble...
A thunderous explosion echoed from afar. Rhaegar looked up in surprise, seeing a column of fire piercing the sky and splattering like fireworks through the indistinct haze.
Though the haze obscured the view, it was evident that a volcano had erupted.
"My lord, it's an active volcano! There's a volcano erupting in the distance!" Robert trembled, his one remaining eye wide open.
Rhaegar hastily consulted the map, comparing landmarks to determine their position. Moments later, he sighed in relief and said, "This active volcano is not on our route. It's a random eruption."
From a distance, the eruption site was several dozen miles away. The eruption was so powerful that the magma broke through the surface and could be seen from afar.
"Roar..."
A gust of wind rocked the ship as Cannibal swooped overhead, roaring sharply. Rhaegar grabbed the railing to brace himself against the wind.
Cannibal's roar echoed in his ears, and he snapped to attention, yelling, "Alert, enemy!"
Cannibal's roar was usually thick and heavy, but this one was different. It signaled the approach of an unknown enemy.
...
Volantis.
The free people of the city-state gathered beneath the black walls of the east side.
Ten nights ago, Varos, the new leader of the Elephant Party, was killed in a fire.
Under the leadership of the two Tiger Party Triarchs, the city held its annual election.
It lasted for ten days, with the city's freeholders casting their votes.
Finally, on the tenth day, the Elephant Party elected a rotund, middle-aged man with a beaming smile.
His name was Dofas Bartholomew.
Originally a member of the Elephant Party, he quickly gained the favor of many freedmen who revered the "Emperor for a Day" and was elected as the new Triarch.
When the election concluded, Dofas stood on a temporary platform, raising his arms and shouting, "My fellow citizens, I will honor His Majesty the Emperor's will and improve the order and construction of the Western District!"
"Good..."
The free people cheered, admiring the Triarch who pledged to follow the Emperor's will and improve the lives of the commoners.
After the proclamation, slaves brought buckets of wine, fruits, and meat for all to enjoy.
This was a custom in Volantis: ten days of voting followed by ten days of revelry.
Dofas joined the crowd, celebrating with them.
On the platform, only the old nobleman and Tesrio, the Tiger Party Triarch, remained.
The old nobleman leaned back in his chair and whispered, "Is the mastermind behind the fire gone?"
"Yes," Tesrio replied, enjoying a massage from a female slave, his eyes half-closed. "He heard where the Emperor went and took a boat to chase after him."
"Sigh, being targeted by the Dragonlord family means Volantis will never know peace," the old nobleman sighed, full of worry.
He was an old man, only wanting to secure the right to make money without risking his life.
Tesrio opened his eyes, disdain evident. "Volantis was lost because of people like you. Now, with the support of the two Dragonlords, what is there to fear?"
His thoughts were simple.
Volantis had the potential to conquer other free trade city-states, but it lacked an opportunity and a strong ally.
Now, both the opportunity and the allies had come.
...
The Smoking Sea.
The three-masted schooner drifted aimlessly, its deck crowded with battle-hardened mercenaries.
Rhaegar stood at the center, his hand absently rubbing the hilt of his Dragon Claw sword.
A deep, mournful horn sounded across the chaotic sea, its eerie, orderly tone lending a sense of solemnity to the moment.
Rhaegar's eyes narrowed, locking onto the direction of the horn's source—somewhere behind the sailboat.
Through the haze, a massive shape emerged, cutting through the boiling water and drawing closer.
"It's a ship! A warship!" cried a sharp-eyed sailor in panic.
Ignoring the rising clamor, Rhaegar focused on the approaching vessel, barely discernible in the dim, smoky environment.
"An exploration team?" he speculated, noting the warship's approach from the Smoking Sea's entrance.
After a moment's consideration, he ordered, "Raise the flag and sound the horn!"
"Yes, my lord."
Several mercenaries sprang into action, hoisting the three-headed red dragon flag of House Targaryen and blowing a warning horn.
In the perilous Smoking Sea, encounters often ended in violence, but Rhaegar hoped to avoid conflict.
However, the warship continued its relentless approach, seemingly oblivious to their signals.
Rhaegar noted the warship lowering its own horn, adopting an unmistakably aggressive stance.
"Fools," he muttered, "they have no idea what they're dealing with."
He mentally communicated with Cannibal, preparing to unleash dragonfire upon the intruding vessel.
The warship loomed closer, its sailors' frantic horn blasts now audible.
Cannibal hovered above, ready to unleash destruction.
As the ship broke through the haze, its full form came into view, and Rhaegar's eyes widened in shock.
The warship was a wreck, its hull tattered and torn, marked by knife and axe scratches. Its filthy canvas flapped in the wind, riddled with holes.
The decaying deck was swarming with eerie figures—men with scarlet eyes fixed on the sailboat.
These creatures, covered in cracked, gray dead skin, moved with stiff, twisted limbs and lifeless faces.
Rhaegar recognized them instantly: Stone Folk.
"Get away from the sailboat immediately!" he shouted, his voice sharp with urgency.
The schooner already carried a few Gray Scale patients awaiting banishment. If these Stone men boarded, none of the crew would survive.
"Roar..."
Cannibal roared, swooping down with a burst of green dragonfire.
Boom...
The warship was engulfed in flames, the sticky dragonfire quickly spreading over its hull.
The boat of Stone men was consumed by dragonfire, their roars turning into mournful wails as they struggled in the green flames. These irrational creatures, now reduced to primal fear, thrashed wildly.
"Release the arrows! Release the arrows!" Robert shouted, his voice filled with urgency as he urged the mercenaries to draw their bows.
Arrows flew as the tattered warship, teeming with Stone men, began to burn. Those not immediately consumed by the fire leapt into the boiling sea, driven by a desperate instinct to survive.
The sea bubbled and roiled as Stone men fell into the water, floundering and roaring in panic. Mercenaries drew their bows, firing arrows into the writhing mass.
Cannibal circled above, unleashing dragonfire on the broken warship, determined to reduce it to ashes.
"Save your arrows, evacuate the ship!" Rhaegar commanded, sensing the need for a swift retreat. The sudden appearance of a warship laden with Stone men was too unsettling.
At Rhaegar's command, the schooner quickly turned and set a new course. Stone men survivors swam after the sailboat, some managing to cling to the hull, their hideous forms clawing and roaring as they tried to climb aboard.
Mercenaries lined the sides, dispatching the creatures with point-blank shots. Slowly, the schooner sailed away, leaving the boiling waters behind.
The immediate danger passed, and the tension aboard the ship eased. Rhaegar looked up, surprised to see the sky clearing, the sun breaking through.
Turning back, he saw the haze of the Smoking Sea still hanging in the distance.
Robert approached with a chart, excitement in his voice. "My lord, we've entered a safe zone. The Smoking Sea abnormal distribution is scattered here."
The Smoking Sea, once part of a continental collapse, had areas of relative calm where the volcanic activity was less intense. In these zones, the haze would lift, and the sea would be more serene.
Rhaegar sighed in relief, a smile tugging at his lips. Encountering the Stone men had shaken him a little, but now they were in safer waters.
As they sailed further, the outline of land appeared on the horizon. Beaches, hillsides, and patches of greenery came into view, signaling their approach to their destination.
(Word count: 1,635)