Chapter 222: Lys’ Dragon Dance

The harbor.

Ragged slaves were toiling away, their chains clinking with every step.

Suddenly, one of the slaves froze, pointing toward the vast ocean. "My lord, it seems a ship has docked over there."

Splat—

A whip cracked down on the slave's back, and a guard soldier shouted angrily, "Get back to work!"

The guard turned to look at the dusky sea. The fleet was already less than a mile from the harbor.

"Roar..."

A muffled dragon roar echoed from the harbor. The soldiers and slaves had no time to react before a gust of wind knocked them to the ground.

Boom...

Ghostly green dragonfire rained from the sky, bombarding the cargo ships in the harbor. The fires crackled as they consumed the wooden ships, casting an eerie green light over the area. Screams filled the air as many perished in the flames.

"The sky! Look at the sky!" someone shouted, drawing everyone's gaze upward.

Against the night's darkness, a massive, charcoal-black figure hovered in the sky. They couldn't make out its full shape, but a pair of cold, merciless green eyes shone down.

Boom...

The green dragonfire erupted again, carving a scorched path toward the inner buildings of the city.

"Roar..."

Another sharp dragon roar echoed through the night, reverberating across half of Lys. The pale gray dragon, Grey Ghost, also flashed by, unleashing pale white dragonfire. They fell like a meteor shower, igniting the harbor.

As the fleet of ships approached, passing through the burning wreckage, they arrived at the harbor.

"Men, follow me to conquer Lys!" Rhaegar shouted, leaping from the ship and landing on the wooden dock.

"Charge!"

The Dragonkeepers, Second Sons, and Knights of the Vale followed, jumping from their ships. Rhaegar led the charge, his sword dancing as he cut down the enemies in his path.

Swish...

Dragon Claw flashed with cold light, severing the head of a Lysene soldier.

"Free the slaves and children! Kill everyone else!" Rhaegar commanded, his voice unwavering.

His team followed closely as he deftly dodged the trembling slaves on the ground, charging towards the inner city. Above, two dragons flew through the night sky, their flames erupting wildly, incinerating buildings and sowing chaos.

The political establishment of Lys was caught completely off guard. By the time the local garrison launched their counterattack, the city was already engulfed in flames and filled with cries of despair.

Rhaegar led the assault with a stern expression. An open attack on Tyrosh? Wrong. Lys was his true target. His plan was to destroy a city-state and fracture the alliance of the Triarchy. The false information had concentrated the Triarchy's forces in Tyrosh, leaving the other city-states vulnerable. Lys, being the closest to the Stone Islands and the most populous, was the perfect target.

"The enemy is here! Follow them!"

As he advanced towards the inner city, Rhaegar encountered a group of Lysene defenders. He raised his Dragon Claw and roared, "Follow me and charge! Destroy them with Blood and Fire!"

An unnatural flush spread across his pale skin, and his eyes filled with bloodlust. Wisps of flame erupted from his skin, transforming Rhaegar into a fiery figure. His black robes billowed in the wind, the hood and cloak igniting like a beacon in the night.

Seeing their prince in flames, the soldiers were invigorated and shouted wildly, "Kill! Destroy Lys!"

Rhaegar, now in flames, rushed into the crowd, wielding his blazing Dragon Claw. Sword and flame made him a force of unstoppable destruction.

...

"Roar --"

Cannibal pierced the night sky and descended into a majestic garden estate.

This was the most famous wonderland in Lys.

--The Perfumed Garden.

It boasted the most opulent buildings, fine wines from all over the world, and countless prostitutes and male slaves.

The patrons here were the elite, the powerful and influential.

Cannibal's green pupils glared down upon them.

Amidst the thousands of pavilions and luxurious buildings, debauchery reigned unchecked.

"Roar--"

With another thunderous roar, spectral green Dragonfire rained down.

"Ah ... help ..."

"Run ..."

The Dragonfire spread rapidly, transforming the Perfumed Garden into hell.

On the other side of the city, Gray Ghost joyfully flapped his wings and soared over the downtown of Lys.

Boom...

Fireballs erupted from Gray Ghost's maw, toppling buildings and burying countless lives in the rubble.

The dragon knew it had been saved by the human and met him again on the eastern shore of Dragonstone Island, the human who had spoken strange words that the dragon couldn't understand.

But Gray Ghost had sensed his intent-he wanted it to follow and help the other dragon. Because he liked the human, Gray Ghost had followed him here.

"Roar ..."

Gray Ghost screeched, unleashing its Dragonfire with reckless abandon, reveling in the cruelty of its nature.

...

The Rogare House Mansion

Drazenko Rogare was in a state of panic, urgently gathering his family members. "Quickly, hide! Get to the air raid shelter!" he commanded, his voice trembling.

He couldn't comprehend it. The declaration of war had clearly stated Tyroshi as the target, so why was a dragon attacking Lys?

Rumble...

A ball of dragonfire descended, instantly collapsing the walls of the mansion.

Many fleeing family members were caught in the flames or crushed by falling rocks, dying instantly.

Drazenko stood frozen, his knees buckling as he fell helplessly to the ground. "Lord of Light, Lys is burning in dragonfire..," he whispered in despair.

...

The bombardment continued until dawn. Rhaegar, drenched in blood, charged into the inner city of Lys.

Looking around, he saw a wide river ahead with a wooden bridge crossing it. Stone buildings were scattered everywhere, making the environment disorienting.

"Robb!" Rhaegar shouted.

"Here, Prince!" Robb emerged from the crowd, breathing heavily. They had been fighting fiercely all night, repelling several waves of Lys defenders.

Rhaegar pointed his sword in one direction and ordered, "There is a Rogare Bank in Lys. You and I will each lead a thousand men and split up to search for it."

Under the relentless bombardment by Cannibal and Gray Ghost, the defense force of Lys was crumbling.

The raids and massacres had already begun, and the city was on the verge of a full-scale sack.

Lys, the most populous of the Free Cities, had accumulated vast wealth through plundering ships, running brothels, and brewing wine. The city was notoriously rich.

The locals did little work, relying heavily on slave labor. The ratio of commoners to slaves was a staggering one to three, showcasing the city's immense wealth.

Robb's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Yes, Prince!" he replied enthusiastically.

With that, he rallied his Second Sons and the Knights of the Vale, moving toward the end of the wooden bridge.

Rhaegar led the Dragonkeepers toward the high-rise buildings where the Dragonfire still burned brightly.

...

After midnight

The Dragonkeepers stormed into the wealthy district, their assault a whirlwind of fire, death, and plunder.

Rhaegar strode down the street, his face an icy mask, gripping his sword tightly. He did not stop the Dragonkeepers from their rampage. In his eyes, the wealthy who had enslaved others and disregarded life had forfeited their right to live. Sparing only the slaves and children, he allowed his men to loot freely.

"Take what you can! Seventy percent for the cause, thirty percent for yourselves!" Dragonkeeper Leader Trangal shouted, thumping his breastplate with a thick arm.

Suddenly, a dark arrow whistled through the air, aiming straight for Rhaegar's neck.

"Prince, look out!" Trangle cried, but it was too late.

The arrow flew with deadly precision, but just as it was about to strike, Rhaegar turned his head. Patterns began to emerge on his exposed skin—cheeks, neck, and hands. Green scales, like those of a dragon, materialized from thin air.

Clang...

The arrow struck the scales and shattered, falling harmlessly to the ground.

"Kill him!" Rhaegar's voice was cold, his eyes fixed on a nearby attic where the attackers hid.

"Porus, go! Tear them apart!" Trangal bellowed.

With a thunderous tread, Porus, a four-meter-high half-giant clad in iron armor, charged forward. He wielded a round shield in one hand and a massive war hammer in the other.

Crash...

The hammer, as big as a water tank, smashed through the gate of the mansion. Poru raced inside, plowing his way to the attic.

Moments later, screams echoed through the night as the attic collapsed under Porus' assault.

...

Inside the Lys War Shelter

The wealthy, who had managed to take refuge in time, cowered within the confines of the shelter.

"Where's the garrison? Go kill all the invaders!" someone yelled angrily.

"Quiet! The invaders aren't familiar with the terrain. The garrison is already in ambush," another whispered.

"Ooooh oooh oooh..." Women and children huddled together, crying bitterly.

...

It was three in the morning. The night was pitch black, the moon obscured by dark clouds. Two dragon shadows, one large and one small, soared through the sky like harbingers of death. Wherever their flames passed, only charred remains remained.

On a street lined with greenhouses and towering commercial buildings, Rhaegar and Robb met again. Both sides, each a hundred men short, carried looted gold, silver, and jewelry and herded freed slaves toward the harbor.

Rhaegar had freed the slaves, breaking their bonds and encouraging them to fight for their freedom. Fueled by a thirst for vengeance, the former slaves were even more ruthless than their liberators, taking brutal revenge on their former masters.

"Kill the slave masters!" the slaves shouted, seizing any weapons they could find.

Rhaegar led his forces through the chaotic streets in search of the Rogare Bank. He had until sunrise to evacuate the army, so they had to move quickly. The column of thousands spread out, searching in groups of two or three hundred.

Rhaegar led his men into an alley redolent with the scent of pollen.

"Surround and shoot!"

A shout rang out from above. Hundreds of  Lys' guards appeared at the windows, raining arrows down upon the Dragonkeepers.

"Ah! ..."

"Dodge! ..."

The attack was too swift. Many Dragonkeepers fell before they could react. Rhaegar's face hardened, and he deftly knocked away arrows with Dragon Claw.

Dang dang dang...

The exits of the alley were blocked by guards, their swords clashing against round shields, creating an intimidating noise.

Realizing they were ambushed, Rhaegar assessed their situation quickly. "Break out with me!" he shouted, charging toward the front of the alley.

*Pfft...*

Rhaegar's long sword sliced through the arm of an attacker. He then kicked through the wall of shields, plunging into the mass of enemies. Machetes slashed at him from all sides, but the green glow of his dragon-scale runes deflected most of the blows.

The inscriptions of bronze runes, painstakingly etched into his skin, protected his upper body, blocking most of the damage.

"Roar! Porus is coming!"

The half-giant roared as he charged the entrance to the alley, his warhammer swinging like a scythe through the wheat. Flesh and bone flew, splattering the walls with blood. In moments, he had cleared a bloody path.

Just then, a window above them creaked open. A beautiful, provocatively dressed prostitute leaned out and shouted, "Prince, follow the alleyway to the north! The Rogare House is stationed there, and so is the bank!"

She slammed the window shut before Rhaegar could answer. Doubts flickered in his mind - he had never been in a brothel and did not recognize her. But then he remembered: Lys' First Magister last name was Rogare. Slaves and prostitutes had every reason to hate that name.

After decapitating another enemy, Rhaegar turned to his men, his voice cold and commanding. "Come with me. Let's destroy the Rogare!"

(Word count: 1,933)