Chapter 258: Dragon Colosseum

The Colosseum of Tyrosh was packed with spectators, their roars echoing menacingly through the arena. At the center of the spectacle, a young dragon, bright yellow and the size of a calf, faced off against a massive black bison. Despite its smaller size, the dragon was agile and could fly, constantly darting around to deliver quick bites and slashes.

"Go on! Bite it to death!"

"Bite the beast's neck, bite its neck!" the crowd shouted.

Under the fervent cries of the spectators, the yellow dragon seized an opportunity and sank its teeth into the bison's testicles, yanking out the long white sperm cord. The male audience members winced in shared agony. The bison, overwhelmed by pain, collapsed onto the ground. The dragon stepped onto the bison's belly, took a deep breath, and unleashed a stream of orange flames directly onto its head. The arena filled with the smell of burning flesh as the bison let out a final, pitiful wail.

With the bison defeated, the yellow dragon bit open its throat, deftly dodging the spurting blood, then tore into its belly to feast. The battle was over, but the feast had just begun, and the crowd watched with morbid fascination.

After more than three months of growth, even the smallest of the seven dragons was now the size of a powerful motorcycle. Viserys had abandoned his previous ventures and instead turned to exploiting the dragons for profit. The war and Tyrosh's harsh slave policies had left the gladiatorial arena short of fighters, so Viserys purchased it and transformed it into the 'Colosseum of Dragons.' Here, the gladiators were none other than the seven young dragons, whose bodies were rapidly growing. Viserys believed their extraordinary growth and insatiable hunger were linked to blood magic.

To sustain them, Viserys devised a way for the young dragons to earn their own keep. The arena fees were modest, but the stands were always full. After one spectator watched 100 consecutive matches, Viserys sent him a piece of dragon scale the size of a fingernail as a reward. This sparked a frenzy among the wealthy elite of other Free Cities, who flocked to Tyrosh for a chance to obtain the precious dragon scale—worth more than any gemstone.

In addition to selling tickets, Viserys capitalized on the frenzy by selling an array of dragon-themed merchandise. Dragon-patterned carpets, figurines, and other memorabilia flew off the shelves, establishing a thriving 'Dragon Culture Industry.' This even gave rise to a fan culture centered around the dragons. The most popular was the largest yellow dragon, which had two black, lightning-shaped stripes running from its eyes to its neck, giving it a look that was both domineering and charming.

Rhaelarion, the silver dragon closest to Dany, also had her admirers. Slender and graceful, Rhaelarion was the most elegant of the seven dragons, winning the hearts of many maidens. It was affectionately nicknamed the "Silver Queen."

Thanks to this booming industry, the cost of feeding the young dragons was insignificant compared to the profits. However, Viserys had no intention of using the money for personal indulgence. Instead, he made all proceeds from the 'Dragon Culture Industry' public, using most of the funds to run an orphanage. In the orphanage, children received basic education in grammar and arithmetic, and were surrounded by images of dragons and the three-headed dragon sigil. These children, Viserys believed, would grow up to be his most loyal bureaucrats.

In addition to the orphanage, Viserys established a relief station, providing low-cost medical treatment and accepting credit. The common folk began to call him "the Benevolent King," a title that stuck. Though running an orphanage and relief station seemed altruistic, Viserys knew that these acts of kindness would ultimately secure him a steady stream of income and unwavering loyalty.

While the idea of universal education and healthcare was a distant dream in an agricultural society with limited resources, Viserys understood that taking care of his people and managing his own affairs were challenges enough.

In the VVIP box of the coliseum, Viserys watched the giant dragons battling the bison alongside his foster "sons". 

The sight of blood and flames left a lasting impression on the young men. Though the dragons were no larger than calves, they could easily defeat and devour a full-grown bison, a feat that struck the boys with awe. They had heard tales that these dragons would one day grow large enough to swallow a horse whole.

They can only ride horses, but Viserys would ride a dragon in the future.

Horses had their limitations—unable to traverse mountains, lakes, dense forests, or the towering "pounds of stone"—but dragons were bound by no such constraints. The spectacle of the dragon fight engraved a deep sense of awe and loyalty in the hearts of these half-blood Dothraki teenagers.

"The dragons are still young, but they grow quickly. Just three or four months ago, they were only the size of kittens," Viserys remarked, gesturing with his hand to illustrate their rapid growth.

The older Dothraki boys were astonished. If the dragons had grown this large in less than half a year, what would they become in another six months? Or a year? Upon arriving in Tyrosh, they had heard many stories about dragons—how adults could grow to the size of a wagon and swallow it in a single bite. Now, it seemed those tales were true.

Viserys observed their expressions carefully, pleased to see no trace of doubt or inappropriate thoughts in their eyes. He knew that when one was powerful enough, there was no need to be overly cautious—he was simply ensuring their loyalty and avoiding future trouble.

"Ser Connington, for now, take them and teach them the basics of swordsmanship and grammar," Viserys instructed Young Connington.

"Yes, Your Grace," Young Connington replied before leaving.

Once he was gone, Old Connington approached Viserys. "Your Grace, the fleets of Arbor and the Westerlands have been gathering near King's Landing, and the fleet of Dragonstone is urgently enlisting advisors. It seems Robert is preparing to make a move," Connington reported as he handed over intelligence.

"How is Robert's army coming together?" Viserys asked.

"The armies from the Stormlands, Crownlands, and Riverlands have already set out for King's Landing, but those from the Westerlands, the North, and Dorne are still on their way. It will take another month or so for them to fully assemble."

Viserys had trained a messenger raven using blood magic, enabling him to stay informed about events in Westeros.

'Their pace is indeed slow,' he mused. 'It has been three or four months since my 'major announcement,' and yet the army has not fully gathered.'

One of the key reasons for this is the trick he played on Robert from afar.

Food prices had spiked. Mercenaries were refusing to be recruited. The loyalty of the lords was wavering. Without moving a single soldier, Viserys had managed to sow the seeds of collapse in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Have the chains I had forged been delivered?"

"Yes, Prince. The five chains, each weighing 2,000 pounds, have been received by Ronan," replied the attendant.

Ronan was the pirate Viserys had encountered by chance. After pledging his loyalty, Viserys took him in as a pawn, positioning him strategically in King's Landing. Armed with an almost endless supply of soap and cigarettes, Ronan quickly became a popular figure in the capital. He was also contracted to oversee the construction of the port at Blackwater Rush.

Viserys had grand plans—he aimed to reenact the Battle of the Blackwater Rush. At the right moment, Ronan would build the ''Winch Tower'' at Blackwater Rush, just as Tyrion had once ordered Stannis's fleet to be trapped in the original conflict. This time, however, it would be Robert's fleet that met its demise before even leaving the harbor.

'I think the look on that fat stag's face when he sees his fleet engulfed in flames will be priceless,' Viserys mused. But he wasn't about to leave the task entirely in the hands of a pirate. He had other allies on the ground, including the Red Viper, who would help keep an eye on things.

"We need more wildfire. Send additional alchemists to King's Landing," Viserys commanded. Understanding the challenges of transporting wildfire, he had already drafted half of the Lysene Alchemist's Guild to secretly manufacture it within the capital.

Once Robert's fleet was destroyed, Viserys was confident that they wouldn't be able to assemble another one quickly, leading to inevitable internal unrest. But Viserys's ambitions went beyond merely reconquering Westeros—he sought to centralize power, dismantling the alliance of 'stag, falcon, wolf, and fish' piece by piece, stripping power away from the lords.

'After I've obliterated Robert's fleet, I'll capitalize on the Iron Throne's inability to strike back and pay a visit to Slaver's Bay,' he thought. 'The Warlocks who call themselves the Unduing Ones are the last threat. Once they're dealt with, I can turn my focus to the Night King.'

...

Westeros, King's Landing

Transporting thousands of pounds of chains into the Blackwater Rush is no easy task, especially with Ned Stark keeping a watchful eye. To safeguard the warships, he had stationed a considerable number of Gold Cloaks around the Blackwater. Anyone entering or leaving the southern gate of King's Landing, known as the 'Muddy Gate,' had to pass through at least three checkpoints. For added security, King's Landing had even temporarily cut off trade with the Free Cities. After all, those cities were now loyal to Viserys, and continuing business with them would be seen as 'collaborating with the enemy.'

Additionally, warships now lined both sides of the Blackwater, turning the once spacious channel into a crowded passage. Merchant ships struggled to navigate through the cramped waters.

"Ronan, you brat, what's this ship carrying?" A man from the North, whose very appearance would make Viserys hesitate, halted the vessel Ronan was managing. The man was Jory Cassel, captain of Ned Stark's garrison at Winterfell. To the Stark children, Jory was like another uncle. He had journeyed south with Ned and should have perished in a skirmish with Jaime Lannister, but due to Viserys's machinations, that clash never took place. Not only had Jory survived, but Ned had also entrusted him with overseeing all the ships entering and leaving the harbor.

"Lord Jory!" Ronan greeted, recognizing the man immediately. His excellent memory allowed him to recall the faces and preferences of nearly every noble in King's Landing. Viserys, in particular, had been enough to put Ronan on edge. As soon as he reached Jory, he pulled out a whole box of cigarettes from his coat. "Something from the Free Cities, my lord," he said, lighting one for Jory.

Seeing Jory's eyes linger on the box, Ronan didn't hesitate to hand it over entirely. "There's some soap in there as well. Are you running low on what I gave you last time? I'll send more."

Jory was Ned's trusted man, upright and loyal. But the North was a place of scarcity—lacking in almost everything. Even Sansa's favorite lemon cakes were a rare treat. Since arriving in King's Landing, Jory had been amazed by the city's wealth and abundance.

His men often visited brothels, though he himself remained restrained, perhaps due to the limited temptations. Under the influence of Ronan's charm and bribes, Jory soon realized that this smooth-talking fellow seemed trustworthy. Generous and simply fond of doing a little business—'What harm was there in that?' And Jory, a man of the North, wouldn't just admit to being out of soap, let alone stockpile it for the return journey.

Seeing no reason to distrust Ronan, Jory relented and prepared to let the ship pass into the Blackwater. As he did, Ronan let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Lord Jory. I'll get you some good stuff later. There seems to be a new batch of high-quality cigarettes that have become popular in the Free Cities."

"Thank you in advance!" Jory patted Ronan on the shoulder and laughed, ready to wave him off.

Just as Ronan was about to leave, Jory suddenly called out, "Wait!"

"What is it, Lord Jory?" Ronan swallowed, a little nervously.

"Why is your draught line so deep?" Jory asked, pointing at Ronan's ship.

'How could it not be deep? There are thousands of pounds of iron chains inside!' Ronan thought.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I have to go up and take a look!" Jory declared.

"Lord Jory! Lord Jory!" Ronan didn't dare to stop him and could only follow him step by step.

Jory knew that these merchants would not be honest, but when he entered the cabin with a torch, what he saw was indeed sacks and sacks of grain.

"Lord Jory!" Ronan hurriedly followed behind him. "Lord Jory, I know that King Robert has ordered that no grain be hoarded, but there are so many people under my command who need to eat. I really can't do without stocking up some grain!"

Seeing that Jory was about to say something else, Ronan quickly took out two fingers' worth of golden bars from his bosom. "Lord Jory, this is just a ship of grain. Please consider this my fine."

Jory hesitated. This was a ship of grain, and by his estimation, it contained two to three thousand catties of it. It would last for only a month or so, and it didn't seem to have any impact on the grain prices in King's Landing.

So, with the promise that this would not happen again, Jory decided to let the matter slide, and in doing so probably caused the destruction of Robert's fleet.