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Aboard the Queen Rhaenys, Vaemond stood with his face smeared in blood, watching as two of his own warships were engulfed in flames. Yet, instead of anger, an eerie satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
Though he could not fathom how Jacaerys had appeared here, he had to admit the prince had turned the tide of battle.
However, as someone who had always considered Jacaerys a bastard, Vaemond refused to accept such an outcome.
And yet, who could have foreseen that Jacaerys, the greatest contributor to this battle, would mercilessly burn both his own soldiers and ships?
Such an act was a perfect reflection of the reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness he carried across the Seven Kingdoms.
In Westeros, only those with noble names and honorable conduct could earn the admiration of both lords and smallfolk alike.
After what Jacaerys had done today, he could forget about securing a firm foothold within House Velaryon.
Suddenly—
SPLASH! SPLASH!
The familiar sound of a ship slicing through the waves came from behind.
Vaemond instinctively turned around.
Another fleet? Was it his older brother's?
So, all that talk about blocking the waters around Grey Gallows had been a lie?
Had he been used as bait—by both his brother and Jacaerys—to lure the fleet of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters near Bloodstone?
A storm of thoughts surged through Vaemond's mind as he watched the rapidly approaching fleet.
But as the ships drew nearer, his expression abruptly shifted. His eyes widened in horror, and his face twisted in panic as he roared—
"Pirates! Everyone to the port side! Defend the deck!"
His voice cut through the chaos, but panic was already spreading like wildfire.
"Hurry! Send a signal! Tell that damned Jacaerys to return and assist us immediately!"
Aaaahhhh—!
More than thirty pirate ships, each bearing sails emblazoned with a snarling tiger skull, surged forward like a pack of starving wolves.
They were mostly small and medium-sized warships, but they wasted no time in closing the circle around the Queen Rhaenys, whose masts and sails were still smoldered from the flames.
With guttural howls of excitement, the pirates leaped over the railings and stormed the deck.
The Queen Rhaenys had already suffered a brutal battle, leaving fewer than a hundred Velaryon soldiers still standing—and even they were utterly exhausted.
They were no match for the pirates, who had been lying in wait, conserving their strength.
Velaryon warriors fell one after another, their blood slicking the wooden planks, while the pirates, practiced in their craft, ruthlessly seized control of the Queen Rhaenys.
"I am Ser Vaemond Velaryon! Do not harm me! My brother will pay a ransom that will surely satisfy you!"
Vaemond knew when to surrender. He had already discarded his sword and shield, raising his hands high as he proclaimed his identity.
Just as he had expected, the fierce-looking pirates hesitated upon hearing his words and refrained from cutting him down.
However, after binding him, they did something unexpected—they descended into the lower decks, took their places at the oars, and began rowing, steering the ship away.
The surrounding Velaryon warships were either occupied with crushing the remnants of Forrest's fleet or locked in battle against the swarming smaller warships of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters.
The pirates had taken the Queen Rhaenys so swiftly—
Not to mention, the two warships—originally set ablaze by Vermex using barrels of liquor—now served as burning obstacles, further hindering any chance of rescue.
Meanwhile, Jacaerys' fleet remained entirely focused on their own battle, showing no intention of turning back to aid them.
And so, before everyone's eyes, a massive, hundred-meter-long warship—valued as highly as a small castle—was stolen by pirates in the midst of a battle.
These pirates from the Stepstones certainly lived up to their reputation as scavengers, daring to snatch a prize even amid the chaos of war.
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At the heart of the battlefield, the fighting was drawing to an end.
The Velaryon fleet closed in from three sides, trapping Forrest's remaining warships like a vast fishing net tightening around its prey.
Of the four large vessels under his command, two had already been captured.
Sensing the moment was right, Jacaerys gave the order.
Fourteen of his personal guards stormed Forrest's flagship, moving in disciplined rows as they pressed forward toward the remaining enemies.
A good blade must be honed!
Jacaerys had spent nearly seven years painstakingly training his personal guards. And only through real combat could they continue to grow.
Without bloodshed, they would never become true warriors.
However, it was always the inexperienced soldiers who suffered the highest casualties on the battlefield. Jacaerys would not let his men perish simply due to a lack of experience.
That was why he had chosen this precise moment for them to enter the fray.
"Front row, shields up! Attack!"
At Captain Stone's command, the six personal guards at his side moved almost instinctively, as if their bodies had been conditioned for this very moment.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
SWOOSH! SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
The guards in the front row raised their round shields, intercepting the attacks of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters' soldiers. Then, without hesitation, they swung their longswords, slicing toward their enemies' throats with ruthless precision.
A few, overcome by tension, failed to deflect the strikes perfectly. However, even when enemy blades found their mark, they merely clashed against the guards' superior armor, unable to cause serious harm.
"Front row, reform the line! Second row, advance and attack!"
From the rear, Captain Rudy barked his orders at the perfect moment.
His guards surged forward, launching a fresh wave of assaults while Stone's squad finished off the wounded and reformed their ranks.
On a chaotic battlefield, an army that moved with precise coordination and unwavering discipline was a terrifying force.
The two squads of personal guards advanced like twin scythes, methodically reaping lives in relentless waves.
They were few in number, but their presence alone shattered the deadlock that had long gripped the battle on the command ship.
Amidst the blood-soaked carnage, Lord Forrest, drenched in crimson, immediately took notice of this spear-like force cutting through his formation.
Wielding a massive battle-axe, he charged forward, flanked by two of his most formidable elite guards.
"First row, hold them off! Do not engage recklessly! Second row, eliminate the others!"
Stone, ever quick-witted, adjusted their formation the moment he spotted Forrest's towering, ferocious figure barreling toward them.
He and his six guards engaged Forrest and his men in a tangle of steel, keeping them occupied without locking into a direct clash.
Meanwhile, Rudy's squad continued carving through ordinary enemy soldiers, further destabilizing their lines.
Stone's team executed their strategy flawlessly, refusing to meet Forrest's brute strength head-on.
In mere moments, Forrest found himself mired in a frustrating struggle, his overwhelming power rendered useless against a foe that refused to engage directly.
Just then—
SWISH!
"Aaaahhh!"
Forrest's mind was still in disarray when a green blur streaked past the edge of his vision, followed by the agonized scream of one of his elite guards.
He turned just in time to witness the man clutching his groin, blood gushing uncontrollably from between his legs, pooling onto the deck.
"Hehehe!"
A soft, teasing laugh rang out.
The green blur was none other than Baela, clad in light green leather armor and wielding a slender rapier.
Having successfully "stolen the eggs," she giggled mischievously, celebrating the first time her blade had tasted blood.
Her incredible speed, choice of weaponry and precise footwork made it clear—she was an agility-based swordswoman.
This fighting style had been meticulously designed for her by Jacaerys, tailored to her petite frame and slight build.
But that was not all.
The rogue prince, who had once roamed the Free Cities alongside Laenor Velaryon in his youth, had no shortage of contacts. He put them to use immediately.
To Jacaerys' great surprise, Daemon had actually managed to hire a Braavosi Water Dancer to train Baela in the legendary art of Water Dancing.
That's right—Jacaerys' goal was to mold Baela into a dragonriding version of Arya Stark.
[P.S: Yes! Hell Yeah! Like, come on, baby!!]
Now, back to the battlefield—
With one of Forrest's elite guards writhing on the ground from excessive blood loss after having his "eggs stolen," Baela immediately turned her attention to the last remaining one.
Clad in heavy armor and wielding a massive weapon, the man was hopelessly outmatched in speed. She effortlessly outmaneuvered him, twisting and weaving with the grace of a dancer.
However, the guard was cautious, keeping his vital spots well protected, making it difficult for her to land a finishing blow.
Forrest, enraged by the loss of his comrade, initially intended to charge in and help the remaining guard eliminate Baela.
But before he could act, Jacaerys appeared in front of him, a taunting smirk playing on his lips.
"Hey, you big oaf! Your opponent is me!"
With a furious roar, Forrest raised his massive battle-axe and charged, fully intending to cleave the insolent youth in half.
Yet, strangely, Jacaerys did not move. He stood rooted to the spot, making no attempt to dodge.
Was he paralyzed by fear?
WHOOOSH!
Forrest's battle-axe whistled through the air, carrying terrifying momentum as it came crashing down.
CLANG!
THUD!
At the last moment, Stone suddenly lunged in front of Jacaerys, raising his round shield with both hands. He caught the axe's devastating strike head-on.
The sheer force of the blow sent him crashing to his knees. Had his shield not been tightly strapped to his arms, the impact would have torn it from his grasp.
Forrest's strength was indeed monstrous, befitting the battlefield terror of Bloodstone.
However, he had been fighting relentlessly, and this swing drained him of nearly all his remaining strength.
When his energy was exhausted, his body briefly faltered.
And on the battlefield, even the briefest moment of weakness could prove fatal.
SCHLUNK!
Jacaerys swiftly slipped out from behind Stone, his longsword striking with deadly precision—plunging straight into Forrest's left eye.
Daemon had once commented on Jacaerys' swordsmanship, saying his attacks were sharp and ruthless, but his defense lacked finesse.
This was because Jacaerys had long known that he wasn't a natural-born swordsman.
Rather than being mediocre in both offense and defense, he had chosen to refine his offensive prowess to the extreme.
From the very beginning, he had never even considered training in defense.
Why bother defending when he already had Stone? When he had Rudy? When he had fourteen personal guards completely devoted to him?
Even Baela could serve as his shield.
This—
This was Jacaerys' unique way of fighting.
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[IMAGE]
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[Chapter End's]
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