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"Oh? The envoy from Bloodstone says they wish to surrender and offer up the island?"
Jacaerys swallowed the remaining half of a creamy cake—a rare delicacy brought by a Velaryon merchant ship—before leaning forward with keen interest.
"Yes," Baela replied, reaching out to snatch the last half of the cake from Jacaerys's plate. "The envoy said the current ruler of Bloodstone is someone named Coleman. He's already imprisoned all of Racallio's faction and wants us to stop polluting the underground freshwater. He asks that we come ashore directly and take control of all the fortresses."
She huffed. "Hmph, so that's why there was such a commotion on the island last night. They were killing each other."
She spoke through a mouthful of stolen cake, stuffing the rich, sweet treat into her mouth with relish. Such luxuries were rare in this era—especially in the remote Stepstones. For a young girl like Baela, it was an irresistible delicacy.
She and Jacaerys had both been given a piece, but greedy little Baela had devoured hers far too quickly and had immediately turned her attention to his.
Jacaerys, however, didn't mind in the slightest. He wiped his mouth gracefully with a napkin, his expression calm yet thoughtful. Then, a slow smile curved his lips.
"They figured out my plan in just four days… This man has some talent!"
Baela blinked, her cheeks puffed out as she chewed. "Mm? What kind of talent?"
Jacaerys chuckled. "Heh, he's got a brain."
His amusement quickly gave way to purpose as he straightened. "Send word to the envoy—tell Coleman to personally escort Racallio's faction out of the fortress and surrender. I will go ashore to accept it myself. Also, have Rudy bring my armor over in secret."
Baela did not know what Jacaerys was planning, but she had always obeyed his orders without question.
Two hours later…
A lone figure clad in black dragon-scale armor, wearing a dragon-headed helm, led two hundred Velaryon soldiers toward the red fortress of Bloodstone. White flags of surrender fluttered atop its walls, stark against the morning sky.
The rustling of armor and murmured voices filled the air as groups of Three Daughters' Kingdom soldiers emerged from various fortresses.
They stood divided into two factions. One group, fully armed and disciplined, bore strips of white cloth tied around their left arms—these were Coleman's followers, those who had chosen to surrender willingly.
The other group consisted of prisoners—Racallio's faction—who had been completely disarmed and tightly bound with ropes.
As the two factions assembled, the numbers became clear. Coleman's forces stood at roughly eight or nine hundred, while Racallio's faction had less than four hundred. Judging by the difference, at least two hundred had perished in the brutal infighting the night before.
CLANG!
As the dark-armored figure approached within seven or eight paces, Coleman unsheathed his sword.
Then, in a decisive show of submission, he dropped to one knee, raising the weapon above his head with both hands in a pledge of loyalty.
"Honorable Prince Jacaerys Velaryon!
I am Coleman of Pentos, and I hereby present Bloodstone to you. I humbly pledge our allegiance—may we become the sharp sword in your hand!"
The black-armored figure strode forward, his boots crunching against the fine red gravel.
Behind him, over two hundred Velaryon soldiers stood motionless, their eyes locked onto Coleman, their expressions tense and cautious.
SNAP!
No unexpected move came. Jacaerys reached out and took the sword from Coleman's hands.
"Very well!"
His voice rang out, firm and commanding, carrying over the assembled soldiers.
"I, Jacaerys Velaryon, eldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm's Delight and heir to Dragonstone—accept your allegiance!"
WHOOSH!
A collective sigh of relief swept through the ranks of the soldiers bearing white cloth bands.
Coleman, smiling faintly, slowly rose to his feet. Then, in a hushed tone, he asked, "May I have an audience with Prince Jacaerys?"
"Hmm? Are you not looking at him now?"
"Firstly," Coleman said, his voice steady and thoughtful, "Prince Jacaerys, as a strategist capable of defeating us and devising a tactic to poison the underground freshwater, would never recklessly risk his life by coming here alone. If this were a trap, your two hundred men could never protect him."
"Secondly, a dragon is a dragonrider's greatest weapon—yet, I have not seen the green-scaled beast anywhere."
"And lastly, the men behind you—though disciplined—are far too tense. Their skin is dark and weathered, not from the damp climate of Driftmark, but from the scorching sun of the Dornish deserts."
At Coleman's words, Rudy—clad in the black dragon-scale armor—smirked in admiration. Without a word, he reached into his cloak, pulled out a war horn, and blew it with all his strength.
Woooo—!
THUD! THUD! THUD!
At the sound of the horn, thousands of figures suddenly emerged from all directions, encircling Coleman and his men completely.
Unbeknownst to them, while they had been leaving the fortress to surrender, the Velaryon fleet—having already surrounded Bloodstone—had quietly transported over two thousand soldiers onto the island, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
*ROOOAR!!!*
Before they could even see it, they heard it first—
A thunderous, soul-shaking dragon's roar tore through the sky. The soldiers of the Kingdom of the Three Daughters instinctively froze, their heads snapping upward as they searched the heavens for the beast.
"Prince Jacaerys has a message for you—when you hear the dragon's roar, have your men step back!"
At first, Coleman frowned deeply, failing to grasp the meaning of Rudy's words.
But in the very next moment, realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His expression changed dramatically as he suddenly turned to look at the prisoners from Racallio's faction. His pupils dilated in horror.
"Fall back! Everyone, get away from the prisoners!"
His urgent shout rang out like a clap of thunder. Without hesitation, the soldiers under his command scrambled away, some nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to put distance between themselves and the bound captives.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
A massive green figure tore through the clouds, diving from the sky at breathtaking speed.
Hah!!!
Without warning, the beast unleashed its devastating breath.
A torrent of searing dragonfire exploded over Racallio's people with terrifying force.
Coleman saw it clearly—the man he had followed for years, the once-mighty Captain Racallio, was reduced to a smoldering, blackened husk before he could even let out a single scream.
"AHHH!!!"
The wretched cries of those caught in the inferno filled the air. Some, though engulfed in flames, did not perish instantly. Their bodies convulsed in agony, their shrieks a nightmarish chorus of suffering.
Whether it was the two hundred Dornish soldiers disguised as Velaryon troops or Coleman's eight to nine hundred men—every single one of them stood frozen, paralyzed with terror.
The sheer dread that gripped them was suffocating. No one dared to move.
They feared that the monstrous green dragon hovering above, wings spread wide, might unleash another inferno at the slightest provocation.
And truly, how long did it take to burn a group of bound, defenseless men to cinders?
Barely seven or eight minutes later, the enormous form of Vermax descended with a thunderous impact onto the now-charred ground.
The lingering embers of dragonfire were instantly snuffed out beneath the weight of its mighty body, sending up a thick cloud of ash and soot.
TAP! TAP! TAP!
From within that veil of dust and destruction, a lone figure emerged.
A young man, black-haired and strikingly handsome, stepped forward with unshaken confidence.
There was something almost demonic about him, as if he had stepped out from the heart of a burning hell itself.
THUD!
This time, Coleman did not kneel on just one knee in surrender.
Overwhelmed by the sheer presence of Jacaerys Velaryon, he instinctively dropped to both knees, pressing his forehead firmly against the rough, gravel-strewn ground.
His voice rang out in absolute reverence, trembling with both fear and awe.
"Long live Prince Jacaerys!"
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Like falling wheat under a scythe, his soldiers followed suit.
One after another, nearly a thousand men fell to their knees, their heads lowered in complete submission.
They had already been prepared to surrender.
But after witnessing this awe-inspiring display of power—the roaring dragon, the all-consuming flames, the effortless annihilation of an entire faction—their surrender transformed into something far greater.
They were no longer merely yielding in battle.
They were bowing before their king.
The atmosphere crackled with an almost religious fervor.
Seeing the thousands of soldiers kneeling before him, the Velaryon men under Rudy's command could not possibly remain standing.
Thus, with perfect synchronicity, they, too, bent their knees, their voices rising to join the deafening chorus.
"Long live Prince Jacaerys!"
The sheer force of their cry reverberated across Bloodstone, shaking the very ground beneath them.
At this moment, Jacaerys Velaryon was the only man still standing.
The sole, unchallenged ruler of the island.
He drew a slow breath, savoring the feeling that coursed through him.
Although he had anticipated a false surrender from Racallio's faction—hoping to reap an even greater harvest of trait points—this moment, this sight, was exhilarating beyond words.
A slow smile spread across his face as he turned his gaze northwestward.
Beyond the vast, endless sea, beyond the horizon itself—
He saw it.
Or perhaps, more accurately, he felt it.
The Red Keep.
And within it, the Iron Throne.
---
The Stepstones, long plagued by chaos and anarchy, had undergone a complete transformation in just a single month.
Where once these waters had teemed with pirates and warring factions, now a new order reigned.
The Velaryon merchant fleet, which had already begun establishing trade routes prior to this conquest, now operated with absolute freedom, no longer hindered by the threats that had once plagued these seas.
With open trade flowing between the two great continents, vast fortunes poured into House Velaryon's coffers—and into the hands of Jacaerys himself.
Yet wealth was not the only thing spreading across the world.
The stories of the battles fought on the Stepstones had begun to reach far and wide.
And with them, the name of Jacaerys Velaryon.
A name that now carried a reputation of unyielding cruelty, unrelenting power, and merciless domination.
..
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[Chapter End's]
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