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On the second day after formulating the Bloodstone plan, Jacaerys set sail, escorting over three hundred Dornish prisoners back home.
Meanwhile, Lord Corlys relied on the merchant fleet of his family and his vast wealth to procure the special supplies Jacaerys required.
The Velaryon family had now completely seized control of Grey Gallows and had laid siege to Bloodstone Island.
This meant that, in essence, they had gained a tenuous hold over the Stepstones' waters.
With their fleet patrolling the sea, Velaryon merchant ships could now travel freely between the Stepstones and Westeros without interference.
---
Bloodstone, Inside the underground fortress
For over half a month, Racallio had been in a state of constant unease. Even his favorite purple gown, which he once adored, had been left untouched.
In Tyrosh, Racallio was infamous for his cunning, unpredictability, and peculiar habits.
Yet never had he imagined that he would suffer such a disastrous setback in the Stepstones.
As he reviewed the events of the past weeks, he couldn't shake the feeling that, during that fateful night raid, he had been led by the nose.
If it had been mere coincidence, he could accept it. But if not, then the enemy must have gained an exceptionally skilled commander.
From years of battle, he knew that neither Lord Corlys nor his brother possessed such tactical acumen.
Suddenly—
TAP, TAP, TAP!
The hurried sound of footsteps echoed through the stone corridors, reaching Racallio's ears.
He lifted his head and forced his voice into a calm tone as he addressed the newcomer.
"Coleman, what is it? Do you bring news of reinforcements?"
"No, Captain," Coleman answered quickly. "It's that dragon—it's appeared again after vanishing for more than half a month! And the Velaryon fleet is closing in on the coastline. It looks like they're preparing to launch a full-scale assault."
"Good! They finally lost patience."
Instead of showing alarm, Racallio's face lit up with excitement. He swiftly issued orders to Coleman.
"Tell the fifteen hundred or so brothers still left on this island to stay sharp. We'll teach these mongrels a brutal lesson. Do they think we've spent all these years on Bloodstone just drinking and dancing?"
"Understood!" Coleman responded firmly before rushing out to deliver the command.
---
At midday, as the Velaryon fleet neared the shores of Bloodstone, a barrage of projectiles was launched from the catapults positioned beside the crimson-colored fortresses.
The larger warships could endure the impact—at most, a boulder might smash through their decks, leaving gaping holes.
But for the smaller vessels, a single well-aimed strike meant destruction. Any Velaryon soldiers aboard were doomed to sink beneath the waves.
Suddenly—
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A powerful flapping of wings resounded through the sky.
From the thick cover of the clouds, a massive shadow emerged—it was Vermax, descending swiftly toward the battlefield.
"Dracarys!"
At Jacaerys' command, the dragon unleashed a torrent of blazing fire as it swooped over a low-lying crimson fortress.
FWOOSH!
The searing flames instantly ignited the catapult stationed beside the fortress.
Several soldiers of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, who had been operating the war machine, were engulfed in the inferno, reduced to nothing but charred husks.
The fortress itself, built from sturdy red sandstone, remained mostly intact despite its blackened exterior.
Yet even as the flames roared, several fearless soldiers burst forth from within the fortress.
They hurriedly pulled away a concealed covering, revealing a massive ballista that had been preloaded.
With a loud twang!, they fired a volley of enormous iron-tipped bolts at Vermax as he passed overhead.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Accompanying the bolts were heavy chains trailing behind them—
It was clear that Racallio intended to capture the dragon alive.
Perhaps he hoped that offering a living dragon as a prize would atone for the failures he had suffered thus far.
But was such a feat even possible?
Vermax was not only swift but also exceptionally agile due to his trait.
Moreover, the sheer weight of the chains slowed the massive bolts, making them even easier to evade.
They posed no real threat to the dragon at all.
After several catapults were reduced to smoldering wreckage, Racallio, who had been observing the battle from within the fortress, finally abandoned the idea of capturing Vermax.
He turned to Coleman and issued new orders.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A relentless rain of arrows, accompanied by ballista bolts flying at full velocity, filled the sky.
Jacaerys, still guiding his dragon in a dive, immediately felt the rising pressure.
Even with Vermax's thick, armored hide, he could not be certain whether the beast could withstand a direct hit from one of those massive bolts.
Using Vermax's agility, Jacaerys maneuvered skillfully, dodging the ballista fire while enduring the storm of arrows.
In the midst of the chaos, he managed to set three more catapults ablaze before making a calculated retreat.
Sensing that the timing was right, Jacaerys urged Vermax back into the concealment of the clouds.
His task for today had been accomplished.
His task today was never to directly destroy Bloodstone Island's fortifications. Instead, he had only one objective—to draw the enemy's attention and keep them occupied for as long as possible.
---
Twenty Minutes Earlier, Aboard the Laenor
On the deck of the Laenor, Baela stood with a cold and commanding expression, addressing the one hundred or so Dornish prisoners assembled before her. Her voice was clear and unwavering as she shouted,
"The chance to survive is right before you. Whether you seize it or let it slip away—it is entirely up to you!"
She paused briefly, letting her words sink in before continuing,
"Of course, you could also run toward those red fortresses for shelter. But believe me when I say this—no man can outrun a dragon!"
Her gaze sharpened as she raised a hand.
"Enough! Proceed as planned!"
"Yes!"
The one hundred Dornishmen answered in unison before leaping overboard, wading through the shallow waters, and charging toward Bloodstone Island.
CLANG! CLANG!
As they ran, the wooden crates strapped to their backs rattled, revealing the presence of something solid within.
And it was not just the Laenor taking action. Several smaller warships had also launched their groups, adding up to a total of three hundred and ten prisoners now surging toward the enemy's stronghold.
These were the very prisoners Jacaerys had taken from Grey Gallows Island.
Having witnessed their comrades being either devoured by Vermex or burned alive by his dragonfire, the surviving Dornish captives now understood one brutal truth—they would do anything to stay alive.
A force of over three hundred prisoners charging across the shore naturally drew the attention of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters defenders stationed in the red fortresses.
However, at this moment, most of their focus remained on the great green-scaled dragon circling above them. Following their commander Racallio's orders, they prioritized aiming their ballistae and archers toward the sky, hoping to bring down the beast.
Only a handful of fortress garrisons turned their bows toward the advancing prisoners.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Arrows rained down, their sharp tips easily piercing the unarmored bodies of the charging Dornishmen.
One after another, the prisoners collapsed onto the rocky shore, their wooden crates hitting the ground with a dull thud, spilling out cylindrical objects of a bright yellow hue.
After three or four volleys of arrows, less than two hundred prisoners remained on their feet.
But then something strange happened.
Rather than continuing to charge toward the enemy fortresses, the remaining Dornish prisoners suddenly veered sharply to the left, abandoning their path.
This unexpected maneuver left the Stepstones defenders momentarily baffled.
Why? Why would they drop over a hundred bodies on the battlefield, only to run off in the wrong direction?
Did they mistake their target?
What was even in that direction?
The defenders racked their brains for answers.
Nothing particularly valuable came to mind—except for a scenic natural cave carved into the island's rocky landscape.
While the Stepstones soldiers were still piecing things together, the Dornish prisoners acted with clear purpose.
They rushed into the cave without hesitation and immediately set down the wooden crates they had carried all this way.
Then, working with swift precision, they began assembling the long, yellow cylinders that had tumbled out.
These were golden bamboo stalks, a variety native to the riverlands of Westeros. Their greatest strengths were their durability and lightweight structure.
Each segment had been carefully selected and treated, ensuring a uniform thickness, allowing them to be seamlessly connected.
Rustle, Rustle!
Piece by piece, the bamboo was joined together.
As the segments were connected, the structure grew longer and longer—until at last, it extended out of the cave's mouth and into the sea itself.
Though the cave was nestled within the red sandstone cliffs, its deepest chamber actually lay below sea level due to the island's unique topography.
And now, with the golden bamboo forming a continuous pipeline from the ocean to the cave's depths, a natural siphoning effect took place.
Seawater, drawn by gravity, began to pour into the cave.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
The clear, untainted seawater surged through the bamboo tunnel and followed the cave's downward slope.
The deeper it flowed, the further it seeped—until, at last, it reached the underground freshwater reservoirs of Bloodstone Island.
---
Islands like Bloodstone relied almost entirely on rainfall to replenish their underground water supply.
Rainwater would filter through the porous rock, forming subterranean rivers and reservoirs beneath the island's surface.
Breaking through Bloodstone's fortresses with a direct assault would be nearly impossible.
So Jacaerys devised a different plan—to pollute the island's entire water supply with seawater.
It would not happen overnight.
But now that the bamboo pipes had been successfully connected, all he needed to do was hold the Valyrian fleet in position long enough for the seawater to complete its work.
The defenders had two choices.
They could abandon their fortresses and attack the cave, trying to cut off the pipeline.
Or… they could do nothing—and slowly perish from their thirst.
But if Jacaerys's plan succeeded, if the underground water sources of Bloodstone Island were truly overrun by seawater…
Then it would take years, decades—even centuries—for natural rainfall to cleanse and restore the island's freshwater supply.
This was not simply a siege.
This was annihilation.
A cruel, merciless gambit—a plan that would leave Bloodstone uninhabitable for generations.
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[Chapter End's]
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