Chapter 109: I Found You Too
"I told you I have nothing to do with Tyrosh." Lycario twirled an ornate dagger between his fingers. "But you were right about one thing, Loja—the Triarchy was never truly united. As soon as the Hand of the King left, the Archon of Tyrosh sent me a letter." He pointed mercilessly at Loja. "Look at how many of the ships you brought here are from Lys. The other two cities have long since grown dissatisfied."
Loja gritted his teeth as he glared at Lycario and threw his scimitar to the deck. "Raise the white flag. We surrender. I'm finished!"
At that moment, Shadow Nightmare descended from the sky and landed steadily atop the Silver Fleet's flagship, the enormous Prince Silverblood, a monstrous galley with five hundred oars. Together with Silent Lord and Dragonzel's Glory, it formed the core of House Varezes's Silver Fleet. Its captain was Ser Samwell Hermosa, a broad-shouldered young man personally knighted by Dragonzel during the Dornish War and now one of the pillars of the Silver Fleet.
"Prince Ray, the enemy wishes to surrender." Samwell rested his battle-axe on one shoulder, still bare-chested except for a breastplate. His messy golden hair looked as though it had not been combed in weeks. The young captain raised his axe slightly, asking whether they should accept the surrender.
"Let him go." Ray shook his head. "Big Brother said the situation in the Triarchy is unstable, and it will likely fall apart after the war. Sam, you know the sea better than anyone. Lord Gaemon and Sebastian should already have reached their designated positions by now, correct?"
Samwell nodded. "Unless they encountered a storm, Dragonzel's Glory should already have led the Silver Fleet to the rendezvous point and completed the encirclement of the enemy's eastern flank alongside House Velaryon's fleet."
Ray nodded in understanding and tightened his gauntlet straps. Shadow Nightmare spread his wings and took flight once more, carrying him back toward Dragon Nest City.
"Let Loja leave?" Lycario stared at the Varezes marine who had delivered the message, somewhat stunned. He quickly understood House Varezes's intentions and brushed back his long purple hair. "Understood. And the reward that was promised earlier…"
"House Varezes never breaks its word, Lord of Bloodstone." The marine answered calmly.
Seeing that the warships surrounding him were no longer closing in, Loja understood what House Varezes intended and could only sigh bitterly. "Lisandro… Lisandro… you underestimated the strength of House Varezes." Flying a white flag, the Lysene pirate vessel slowly withdrew from the battlefield.
Meanwhile, Otto Hightower, who had been anxiously waiting day after day, finally welcomed the mercenary fleet he had long awaited.
Then he saw the seahorse banners of House Velaryon and the silver dragon-and-laurel banners of House Varezes rise upon the horizon.
The Hand watched in despair as the warships of the Triarchy escorting the transport fleet offered only token resistance before turning and fleeing. Behind them, the mercenary transports raised white flags one after another and scattered without even looking back.
Otto watched helplessly as the trapped transports were sunk one after another by the Silver Fleet and the Velaryon fleet. More ships abandoned the battle entirely, fleeing eastward beneath white banners of surrender. He saw Ser Virri Fell, the Kingsguard knight commanding the mercenary host, struck down by the axe of a Varezes marine boarding his flagship. He watched King Aegon's golden banners vanish into the flames.
And yet not a single ship from the Arbor fleet—promised as reinforcements—appeared.
In that instant, Otto understood.
Lord Borros Baratheon stood silently behind him atop the battlements, accompanying the Hand of three kings as they watched the sea burn within Shipbreaker Bay.
"Lord Otto, had House Varezes not entered the war, I would have gladly supported Aegon." Lord Borros sighed deeply, rage hidden beneath his voice. "I have four daughters and not a single son. I love my daughters dearly, but I also know only a son may inherit my seat… and the warhammer. Unfortunately…" Borros stood beside the silent Otto. "What I must ensure now is the survival of House Baratheon."
The Lord of Storm's End took the Queen's quartered banner from a knight and planted it firmly upon the battlements.
"I understand you, Lord Borros." Otto closed his eyes, unwilling to continue watching the blazing sea and the transports sinking beneath the waves. "But Rhaenyra's reign will not last. The people of King's Landing have limited patience. She starved the city through blockade for a month and followed it with crushing taxation. The people cannot endure such a ruler forever."
"The Blacks are not only Rhaenyra, Otto." Borros shook his head. "But what of you? Ah, yes—you probably haven't heard yet." He paused briefly. "Prince Aemond is dead. He and Vhagar were slain above the Red Fork by Prince Dragonzel riding Vermithor. Tens of thousands witnessed the dragons falling from the sky. Afterward, the Riverlords utterly shattered Jason Lannister's army. The Westerlands have surrendered."
"What of the Reach?" Otto gripped the battlements tightly. "Do not hide the truth from me any longer."
"Lord Ormund's main host was ambushed by dragons along the Honeywine. Silverwing and Vermax burned thousands alive. Lord Ormund retreated all the way back to the walls of Oldtown before gathering his surviving forces. Now the armies of Lord Rowan and Lord Caswell have surrounded Oldtown itself. Lord Redwyne betrayed your cause. He joined the Arbor fleet with Obara Sand's warships to blockade Oldtown's harbor. Had Ser Hobert not reacted swiftly enough, the young prince and princess would already have been captured. Queen Helaena now refuses to ride into battle. She remains within the Starry Sept to protect the children."
Otto closed his eyes as Borros delivered one catastrophe after another.
"Still no word from the King?"
At last, Otto released the final breath trapped within his chest and slowly climbed atop the battlements.
Lord Borros watched him silently, neither moving to seize him for a reward nor attempting to stop him.
"My ambition destroyed my daughter… my grandchildren… and my House." Otto looked skyward, though his eyes remained tightly shut. "After this war, there may no longer be a House Hightower."
As his words fell, the Hand of three kings drew the dagger from his belt and drove it into his own throat.
The old man's body toppled from the high tower of Storm's End like a falling leaf, vanishing silently into the dark waters of Shipbreaker Bay below.
Dragonstone.
A small fishing boat loaded with salted fish drifted slowly ashore.
A bald young man wrapped in filthy rags sneezed violently. "Larys… this was your idea?"
"Your Grace, we had little choice." The other ragged figure was none other than Larys Strong, Master of Whisperers. "Your Grace, you heard the rumors during our voyage. Rhaenyra's rule has already earned the hatred of the smallfolk. Once you return triumphantly to King's Landing, they will welcome you with open arms."
"Seven Hells." Aegon the Elder rubbed his bald scalp. "Did it truly have to be done this way?"
"It was the safest method, Your Grace." Ser Marston Waters spoke quietly, his sword hidden beneath the pile of salted fish. The knight nervously scanned the deserted shoreline.
"According to our intelligence, the two wild dragons of Dragonstone—Seasmoke and Grey Ghost—often hunt around this coast, Your Grace. If we can tame even one of them, we may yet reverse the war."
"Achoo!" Aegon sneezed again and muttered irritably, "I'd rather hatch another Sunfyre. By the way… any word from Aemond?"
"Your Grace, once you rise from Dragonstone upon a dragon's back, Prince Aemond will naturally come to join you." Larys Strong still wore his calm smile.
"Good. Good." Aegon ripped away the foul-smelling rags, jumped ashore with Marston Waters, and shook the seawater from his arms. "Seven Hells… was this cloth covering rotten fish before?" He sniffed his sleeve and nearly vomited.
At the same time.
On Driftmark, Daemon felt warmth radiating from the bloodstone hanging against his chest.
He had already learned of Vhagar's death from the ravens sent from High Tide.
The Rogue Prince slowly turned toward the direction from which the strongest heat emanated.
"I found you too."
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