After analyzing the situation, Rhaegar proposed a strategic adjustment.
"Send out the ravens immediately and mobilize forces from the Crownlands and the Riverlands."
"Load the remaining ships in King's Landing with supplies and send them to Tarth, then transfer them to the Stepstones."
Finally, Rhaegar pondered and said, "Send an initial batch of supplies first. I will dispatch 800 Dragonguards from the Dragonpit to escort them."
The journey from King's Landing to Tarth, and then to the Stepstones, would take at least three days.
Considering the time needed to load supplies and assemble the troops, the process would take even longer.
The troops stationed in the Stepstones couldn't defend their position on an empty stomach—they needed an advance unit to transport supplies.
"Prince, the Three Daughters' pirates have taken Bloodstone. There's a high chance they will intercept our supply ships in the Narrow Sea," Leonor pointed out.
Rhaegar responded calmly, "No matter. I will escort them personally on dragonback."
Melyas and Seasmoke were still stationed at Grey Gallows, ensuring its protection, so he didn't need to rush there immediately.
The priority was securing the supply route.
If their supply lines were cut, the war in the Stepstones would be lost.
With the problem addressed, the tension in the hall eased slightly.
Viserys' expression softened, and he waved his hand. "Leonor, do as Rhaegar says."
Upon hearing the dire news, he had been overcome with panic, his mind consumed with rage toward Tyland and the others.
His eldest son's plan was clear and well-structured, aligning with his own thoughts.
"Yes, Your Grace," Leonor said, visibly concerned, before hurrying out of the hall.
Grand Maester Melos rose from his seat and followed him out—he needed to send ravens with the orders.
Watching them leave, Rhaegar spoke again. "Father, this war is of utmost importance. I suggest Aegon ride his dragon to Grey Gallows in advance to aid in its defense."
Another dragon would mean more strength.
At such a critical moment, he had no time for sentimental concerns about brotherhood.
Aegon had to step up.
Viserys agreed without hesitation. "Alright, I'll notify that wretched boy soon."
Aegon had drunk himself into a stupor last night and was still sleeping off his hangover.
With everything settled, Rhaegar took his leave. "Father, I'll go assemble the Dragonguards now."
"Go ahead. Lord Lyman will handle the supplies and ships," Viserys replied.
Rhaegar rose and left swiftly.
Jeyne, sitting nearby, stood up as well, offering a brief "Farewell" before following him.
—
Rhaegar descended the steps and exited the Red Keep.
With the tides turning against them, his mind was restless.
The near-total annihilation of the royal fleet was a devastating blow to the crown.
As for the Sons of the Second, the mercenary company he had recently backed, he had no idea how many of them had survived.
They were all highly trained warriors, educated in knightly traditions.
At the Dragonpit, Rhaegar hurried inside and found Menas, instructing him to summon the Dragonguards.
The Dragonguards were traditionally a force of a thousand men.
He had reinforced them with some freedmen from the Crackclaw Point, bringing the total to 1,200.
He selected 800 for the mission, leaving 400 to guard the Dragonpit.
As he addressed his troops, Jeyne entered the Dragonpit, flanked by a squad of Vale knights.
Rhaegar's expression turned complicated when he saw her.
He had rejected Jeyne the night before, and guilt weighed on him.
She was a striking woman of noble birth.
The Duchess of the Eyrie had lowered herself to invite him to share a bed—a rare occurrence indeed.
In normal circumstances, their union, bound by mutual interests, would have been a blessing of the Seven.
But the jealousy of a woman in love could be dangerous.
He feared that her feelings might turn to resentment and make her a liability.
"Rhaegar, are you alright?"
Jeyne approached swiftly, her voice filled with concern.
Rhaegar raised an eyebrow, doubtful of her current state of mind.
"Why wouldn't I be? I'm still me, unchanged in body and spirit."
Jeyne smiled elegantly and said, "Even though you left me last night, I still want to be your wife. My love for you remains the same."
"Jeyne, you should return and rest," Rhaegar said, stepping back slightly, his voice patient.
Now he was certain—something was off about her.
Jeyne took two steps forward and grasped his hand. "I was too impatient last night. I don't blame you."
Rhaegar looked down at her fingers, gripping his tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.
That didn't seem like the attitude of someone who didn't care.
Jeyne followed his gaze and hesitated briefly.
"Oh, my apologies," she said quickly, releasing his hand. "I suppose I do care a little."
Rhaegar tested the waters. "I'm just glad you can forgive me. A person should always follow their heart."
"No! I will never forgive you. I'll remember this for the rest of my life," Jeyne declared, stepping closer. "I love you, and I don't mind your choices. But you have left me feeling humiliated."
"Would you like me to apologize?"
Rhaegar took two steps back.
"No need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."
Jeyne was surprisingly open-minded and remarked, "Besides, I don't feel any regret. At least I never had the chance to betray Rhaenyra."
Having an affair with Rhaegar weighed on her conscience.
Rhaegar blinked, realizing that the woman before him had an unusual mindset.
"Rhaegar, you looked very charming, strategizing at the Small Council."
Jeyne smiled and continued, "I asked the Grand Maester to send a raven to Runestone. The Royce family has a small port and can provide some reinforcements."
"Runestone suffered heavy losses. Can they still spare troops?"
Ignoring her first comment, Rhaegar focused on the pressures facing Runestone.
Jeyne replied confidently, "Don't worry. By confiscating the wealth of House Shett and the Arryn branches, more than half will be used to compensate Runestone. It will be enough to restore their strength."
Rhaegar nodded. "Thank you."
"There's no need for thanks between us. You know what I want."
Jeyne's gaze was filled with ambiguous intent.
Suddenly, she changed the subject, looking around the empty dragon pit. "Where is the dragon? I heard there's a hatchling. Can I see it?"
Rhaegar was momentarily caught off guard by her abrupt shift in conversation. He summoned a dragonkeeper and spoke in High Valyrian, "Bring Blizzard here. Watch both the dragon and the people carefully."
Then, he turned to Jeyne. "I have other matters to attend to, but you can observe a hatchling."
With that, he assembled eight hundred Dragon Guards and left the dragon pit.
Jeyne watched Rhaegar's departing figure as he led the Dragon Guards away. A slight smile appeared on her lips.
—
**Noon.**
Three large merchant ships were docked at the port of Mud Gate. Sailors and Dragon Guards boarded one after another.
Soon, the ships raised their anchors and set sail.
Whoosh—
A powerful gust of wind billowed the sails as Devourer flapped its wings, soaring toward Blackwater Bay.
Ahead of Devourer—
Aegon had been dragged out of bed by Viserys and forced to mount Sunfyre, heading for the Stepstones.
Time passed in a blur, and two days later…
Over the Narrow Sea—
Three merchant ships sailed steadily, appearing as mere specks on the vast, endless ocean.
As they passed Windward Point in the Stormlands, a sudden change occurred.
Five medium-sized warships appeared ahead, their sails emblazoned with the sigil of a three-headed beast. The decks were crowded with heavily armored mercenaries.
They belonged to the Triarchy—the alliance of the Three Daughters—mercenaries hired by the Free Cities.
Judging by the three-headed beast on their sails, they were likely from Tyrosh's mercenary fleet.
"Full speed ahead! Seize those merchant ships!"
The mercenary captain barked in a corrupted Valyrian dialect, ordering his men to attack.
The two fleets sailed toward each other.
The merchant ships had no time to turn and escape. The mercenary warships were faster and quickly closed in.
Just as the warships prepared to ram and board, a deafening dragon roar echoed across the sky.
"Hissss-gahhhh—"
A torrent of emerald dragonfire rained down from above, engulfing one of the warships in an instant.
"AHHH!!"
Screams of agony filled the air as the ship was consumed by flames, its deck covered in charred corpses.
Witnessing the carnage, the remaining mercenaries were thrown into chaos, gripped by fear.
Devourer's massive black form dived, unleashing another fiery breath upon a second warship.
"Scorpions! Prepare the scorpions!"
The mercenary captain shouted frantically, commanding his men to ready the ballistae.
"Hissss-gahhhh—"
Devourer roared, incinerating the ship before the scorpions could fire a single bolt.
For the remaining two warships, Devourer methodically repeated the process, reducing another to burning wreckage.
By the time only one ship remained, the terrified mercenaries abandoned all thought of resistance, leaping into the sea in desperation.
A fully grown dragon was a force beyond human reckoning.
"That's enough, Devourer!"
Rhaegar, perched on the dragon's back, ordered it to halt before destroying the last vessel.
Devourer let out a low growl, lowering its altitude so Rhaegar could address the remaining mercenaries.
Rhaegar shouted, "Go back to your masters and tell them: once the kingdom's supply shipments are complete, our army will meet them in battle in half a month!"
The mercenaries were paralyzed with fear, staring up at the towering black dragon.
"Hissss-gahhhh—"
Devourer let out another mighty roar, its sulfurous breath washing over the ship.
"Did you hear me?!"
Rhaegar shouted again.
"Yes! We will report everything to our employers exactly as you said!"
The enemy commander hastily replied, dropping to his knees on the deck.
"Then get lost!"
Rhaegar's expression was icy, and Devourer's slitted pupils bore into the remaining ship like daggers.
The mercenaries, feeling as if they had just been granted a royal pardon, scrambled to turn their vessel around and flee.
As the warship disappeared over the horizon, Rhaegar looked down at his own fleet.
On the deck of the lead merchant ship, the Dragon Guards stood in formation.
Lying motionless at the feet of a towering four-meter-tall giant was Tormund, his pupils eerily white.
To prepare for war, Rhaegar had brought his most crucial skinchanger to keep watch over enemy movements.
The giant was Borro, reassigned from the royal fool's troupe.
With his massive stature clad in full armor, he was a walking engine of destruction on the battlefield.
He was wasted as mere entertainment for his father.
Tormund twitched, his pupils returning to normal, and said, "Prince, why did you let those mercenaries go?"
His voice was weak and feeble. The small giant, Boru, spoke on his behalf, his voice loud and rough.
Hearing this, Rhaegar replied, "Be patient. The battlefield changes in an instant!"
…
The next afternoon, three cargo ships arrived at Grey Gallows Island.
The soldiers on the island had been starving for three days and were already famished.
As soon as the cargo was unloaded, the first priority was to start a fire and cook.
The Devourer landed on the island, and Rhaegar climbed down from the dragon's back.
A group of people immediately gathered around him.
"Rhaegar, when will the kingdom's reinforcements arrive? The Three Daughters have been observing the coastline closely in recent days."
Rhaenys looked exhausted, her eyes filled with urgency.
The army had first suffered a crushing defeat, then been stranded on Grey Gallows Island, starving for three consecutive days.
The only reason the soldiers hadn't mutinied was because of the presence of the three dragons.
"Aunt, I have a daring plan."
Rhaegar's gaze was deep and resolute.
(End of Chapter)