Chapter 419: Seasmoke Out of Control

Cole couldn't tell if he was happy or angry and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Laenor denied it, putting an arm around Cole's shoulder and laughing with a boozy gesture, "My favorite thing about riding dragons and drinking wine is that it gets my blood pumping."

"I hope so." Cole lowered his head again, subconsciously pulling away from the arm around his shoulder.

Seeing this, Laenor knew he was in the wrong and took the initiative to show affection, "Don't sulk. Remember that Red Gem you had your eye on last time? I'll give it to you when we get back."

Compared to his former lover Joffrey, he was more willing to satisfy Cole with material things. Cole came from a commoner's background and had lived in poverty since childhood. It was not easy to be knighted, and he had a strong desire for money.

Cole sniffed, forcing a smile, "You are always so generous to me."

"That's right, we're good brothers," Laenor grinned, wrapping his arm around Cole as they continued to walk forward. Using money as a form of appeasement always worked.

Cole didn't struggle, following Laenor toward a reef area.

"Roar..."

The light silver dragon chirped in boredom, swooping further out to sea. With a plop, it plunged its feet into the water, capturing a large fish. The dragon hissed softly, seeking out other sea fish to feed on.

Cole glanced at the distant light silver dragon and suddenly asked, "Laenor, do you ever think of Joffrey?"

Laenor blushed, feeling annoyed and guilty, "He's been sent across the Narrow Sea. I haven't seen him in a long time."

"Yes?"

"Of course."

Their conversation, seemingly small talk, carried hidden agendas. The more Laenor talked, the more unhappy he became. The guilt of his infidelity made him not want to continue.

"Laenor."

As they approached the reef area, Cole stopped and called his name softly.

Impatient, Laenor turned, "Cole, we're out for a walk. Let's not talk about unhappy things."

"You're right."

Cole lifted his head, his previously complex eyes now cold and determined. His steps were sharp and light as he approached Laenor, drawing a cold, gleaming dagger from behind his waist.

"Cole..."

Realizing something was wrong, Laenor turned back to ask. But before he could finish, Cole's large hand tightened around his neck, silencing him.

"Laenor, you have been unfaithful, and the Seven Gods will not forgive you."

Cole's face was livid as he strangled Laenor, his right hand driving the dagger violently into Laenor's back.

Plop! Plop! Plop!

A series of stabs, the dagger soaked in blood.

Laenor, unprepared, felt his strength wane as blood poured from the wounds in his waist. His powerful struggles diminished to weak, feeble motions.

Pfft...

Cole released him, and Laenor fell limply to the ground, staring up in disbelief.

Breathing heavily, Cole yelled, venting his fury, "What do you take me for? A whore at your beck and call, selling myself for money!"

With that, he kicked Laenor in the head, the blows landing with sickening thuds.

Laenor, unable to resist, rolled back and forth, attempting to crawl away, his palms pressed into the sand.

"Get back here!"

Cole wouldn't let him escape. He grabbed Laenor by his silver hair, pressing his head hard into the wet, muddy sand.

"Your bloodline is noble, you are a dragon rider, you are marvelous..."

Cole's eyes were red, venting his heart'sdissatisfaction, letting out all his pent-up rage and lowly emotions.

After torturing his former lover for what felt like an eternity, Cole finally dragged Laenor up from the beach. His body was numb from blood loss, his eyes as lifeless as a dead fish's.

The sneak attack had come too fast, leaving him no chance to resist.

Laenor's head drooped, his mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Cole, expressionless, dragged him into the sea like a discarded carcass.

The tide churned, wetting the legs of Cole's rolled-up pants. The cold sensation invigorated his nerves.

"Cole..."

Laenor, now fully submerged in the water, mustered the last of his strength to clutch at Cole's coat, a look of desperation in his eyes.

He was terrified.

Thoughts of his parents, his sister, and his wife alone in their house filled his mind as he faced death.

Responsibilities and unfulfilled dreams surfaced in his head; he realized he hadn't lived enough.

"Die!"

Cole growled, ignoring Laenor's pleading eyes, and flung him into the crashing waves.

Plop-

A wave crashed, and Laenor, drowning inremorse, was swallowed by the sea.

Cole's eyes widened in horror. He swallowed hard, realizing the gravity of his actions, and turned to flee.

Hidden among the reefs was a wooden boat. Desperation fueled his frantic movements as he pushed the boat into the sea, leapt in, and began to paddle furiously.

His direction was not towards the Narrow Sea to the east but southward towards Cape Wrath.

The sun was rising, and the morning chill was dissipating.

No one on the vast, empty beach witnessed the murder.

Except for...

"Roar!!"

A sharp roar echoed across the shore as the light silver dragon, Sea Smoke, returned, its vertical pupils filled with endless fury.

Just moments before, it had sensed the pain and anger of its rider.

This overwhelming negative emotion deeply agitated Sea Smoke's nerves.

"Roar..."

After a frantic search with no sign of Laenor, Sea Smoke roared angrily, unleashing its Dragonfire in a blind rage.

It searched up and down the beach, but its rider was nowhere to be found.

The dragon, intelligent as any human, quickly realized that something terrible had happened to Laenor.

"Roar!!"

Sea Smoke's vertical pupils turned blood-red, every inch of its flesh and blood seething with rage as it flew back towards Mistwood.

Dragonfire spewed uncontrollably along its path.

The Rainwood burned, and the villages in its way were engulfed in flames.

Sea Smoke was beyond reason, consumed only by an uncontrollable fury.

In its singular mind, one thought remained:

Find the rider! Burn everything in sight!

...

In the afternoon

Stonehelm, Cape Wrath.

Beneath its grayish-white walls, thousands of Dornish soldiers scrambled to climb, their roars of rage and screams of pain echoing through the air.

On the city wall, Lord Swann, pale and strained, desperately commanded the defense.

As the minutes dragged on, his face grew ashen, a sense of powerlessness seeping into his bones.

One mile outside the city, a well-organized Dornish force of a thousand soldiers stood ready.

At the forefront of their formation, in addition to a dozen stone throwers, were an equal number of scorpion crossbows.

Originally designed for long sieges, these crossbows had evolved to target not just fortified forts but also swift cavalry and the dragons in the sky.

In terms of destructive power, they were unparalleled.

Olyvar Yronwood stood proudly at the front, bellowing, "Load the crossbows and aim them at the gates!"

With Braavos as an ally, unexpected advantages like these siege weapons were at hand.

With the scorpion crossbows and stone throwers, breaching the city walls was only a matter of time.

The Dornish soldiers stood at attention, efficiently loading steel-tipped bolts into the scorpion crossbows.

At Olyvar's command, they unleashed a relentless barrage on Stonehelm.

The catapults and scorpion crossbows fired incessantly, their impact shaking the city walls and causing chunks of stone to collapse, scattering debris everywhere.

Lord Swann's face turned ashen as he watched his defending troops take heavy casualties and the walls of Stonehelm begin to crumble.

"Fire!" Olyvar shouted, his expression cold as he watched his forces pound the city.

His method of attack was brutallystraightforward, sacrificing his soldiers in relentless suicide attacks.

It was costly in lives, but brutally effective.

The defenders trembled at the sight of bloodied Dornish soldiers.

Faced with an enemy of overwhelming numbers and firepower, their morale crumbled in despair.

Boom!

A rolling stone launched from a catapult slammed into the city's battlements, right where Lord Swann stood barking orders.

Feeling the rush of air, Lord Swann turned, his eyes widening in horror.

Rumble—

With a deafening crash, the wall exploded into a cloud of gray masonry, mingling with the blood and flesh of the castle's lord.

"Lord Swann is dead!"

"Lord Swann has fallen in battle!"

The sight sent a shockwave through the defenders, who had been watching their commander.

Panic spread through the ranks.

The castle, now in chaos, teetered on the brink of collapse.

...

Dusk.

Crow's Nest Castle.

Royce Caron's face was ashen as he held a raven-sent letter, his body trembling.

The letter read: Lord Swann was killed in battle. Stonehelm has fallen.

Lord Morrigan of Crow's Nest stood beside him, his expression equally grim. "Lord Royce, we must send troops immediately."

Stonehelm was the first line of defense on the Cape Wrath. With the Dornish occupying it, they had the advantage of attack and retreat, making the war much more difficult.

Bang! Royce slammed the table heavily, shouting in frustration, "Where is Prince Aemond? Has he not sent troops yet?"

A young maester, his eyelids fluttering nervously, replied, "Prince Aemond heard the news and has flown on his dragon to lead the army to strike."

"Strike? Where is he striking?" Royce's eyes widened, his voice frantic.

With Stonehelm captured, Crow's Nest was now the frontline. A risky counterattack on Stonehelm could only result in more losses.

The maester quickly answered, "He must have just departed. We can send a message to stop him."

"Then what are you waiting for? Send the message immediately!" Royce roared, nearly exploding with anger.

If Stonehelm was lost, the ruthlessness of the Dornish would mean no survivors for House Swann. As the commanding officer, Royce would bear the responsibility.

"Yes, my lord." The clerk, drenched in sweat, fled to carry out the order.

Lord Morrigan furrowed his brow, pointing to the map on the table. "Prince Aemond is willing to send troops. Together with Ser Laenor of Mistwood, two dragons and thousands of Stormlands warriors can recapture Stonehelm."

He tried to calm Lord Royce. The battle had always been in their favor, which was why Prince Aemond had delayed his troops, stalling the battle.

The reason was obvious to anyone clever enough to guess. Now, with Lord Swann dead, the two dragon riders could turn the tide.

Royce, his face set in a grimace, gritted his teeth. "That Targaryen brat, so narrow-minded. Elenda should never have let her daughter marry him!"

Targaryen's marriage to Baratheon's daughter was an encroachment on certain rights of House Baratheon. With Aemond officially marrying Lady Cassandra of Storm's End, it was easy for him to meddle in Stormlands affairs. With such an ill-intentioned brat in power, the Stormlands nobility would suffer.

"This is not the time for that discussion," Lord Morrigan murmured. "Remember, you also took the that position thanks to the royal family."

"We must send a message to Mistwood," Morrigan continued, "and inform Ser Laenor to lead an army to close in on Stonehelm."

Royce sighed deeply. "We also need to send a message to King's Landing to urge the Crownlands to speed up their support."

The Dornish had come in force, exceptionally well-armed, backed by Braavos and the remnants of the Triarchy. The Stormlands needed all the support they could get from King's Landing.

(Word count: 1,879)