On the vast ocean east of the Red Keep, the decisive battle between the combined naval forces of the old and new dynasties was in full swing. Slightly to the south, a third party that had not yet joined the fight was closely watching the clash between the first two.
The Ironborn temporarily possessed the largest fleet in the known world, but their foundation was weak. Even with victory seemingly assured, Euron still chose to wait, waiting for the right moment to maximize his gains.
The dragon was still nowhere to be seen, and Stannis's fleet, as expected, was closing in on Daenerys's navy's formation. The center was already locked in fierce combat with his vanguard, and the pincer movement on both flanks was about to take shape. Anyone with a basic understanding of military tactics could see that the situation was like Daenerys punching into a bag that Stannis had opened. Surrounded and facing enemies from three directions, she would instinctively shrink back toward the center in confusion and retreat. If she could not withdraw from the battlefield or break through the front, the inevitable outcome would be to be squeezed together and utterly annihilated.
Daenerys's fleet responded by having the center, closely following the vanguard, begin maneuvering and spreading north and south, changing the shape of the entire fleet from a long strip into a cross. Then the somewhat twisted and weak wings extending left and right pushed forward, finally stretching the fleet into a strange Ψ shape.
Honestly, Euron could not understand it.
Was she trying to counter-encircle Stannis's fleet with those hastily formed wings?
There was neither enough time nor enough ships.
Was it a hasty response made in an emergency, trying to rescue the vanguard that was already trapped?
It seemed so, but if she knew this would happen, would it not have been better to form a line from the beginning? Sending the vanguard into danger as cannon fodder first, then frantically pulling the formation to rescue them, it was like shooting herself in the foot. What kind of game was this?
Could it be a new formation designed to face enemies from two sides?
No matter how Euron looked at it, he could not figure out how Daenerys's fleet, already locked in combat with Stannis's navy, was going to deal with the coming massive assault by the Iron Fleet.
"Rumble."
The front line was already in chaos. To avoid friendly fire, the cannon-carrying ships in the center of Daenerys's fleet had ceased firing. The silence lasted less than two minutes before it was shattered by deafening volleys once again.
It was only after hearing the sailors' exclamations, turning to see them pointing, and following their gaze to spot large ripples and splashes near the ship's side that Euron realized what had happened. The enemy had changed direction and begun bombarding his fleet.
Seeking death?
A fierce glint flashed in his uncovered blue eye, and the malice and bloodlust suppressed by reason suddenly awoke.
He had intended to let the enemy live a little longer, but since they were so eager to die, he would grant their wish.
"Give the order. Full speed ahead. To hell with Stannis's or Daenerys's ships. No prisoners today."
A battle horn, more somber than that of the Royal Fleet, sounded and passed from one ship to another. In an instant, horns blared across the entire Iron Fleet. Some were homemade by the islanders, but more were spoils seized during raids across the Seven Kingdoms. They came from all corners of the world, differing in size and tone. Suddenly, Blackwater Bay seemed filled with rising and falling wails and roars. The Ironborn warships, hearing the call, accelerated sharply, forming a broad line stretching for miles as they charged menacingly toward the Dragon and the Stag, already locked in battle to the north.
Euron had every right to be arrogant. Although not as many as a thousand as claimed, the Ironborn ships participating in today's battle were indeed more numerous than those of Stannis and Daenerys combined, more by over a hundred.
For the two rival kings, who had many supporters and acknowledged subjects, this naval battle might have been only part of the larger struggle for King's Landing. But for the Iron Islands and Crow's Eye Euron, this was a battle staking the fate of the nation, a true debut before the world to reveal his ambition.
He had to win this battle, and he had to achieve a result that would shake the Seven Kingdoms and even the shores of the Narrow Sea.
To accomplish that, there was no better way than to utterly annihilate the fleets of Stannis and Daenerys in a single battle.
Euron had not dared hope to fully achieve this goal, but now Stannis's fleet was attacking with full force, and Daenerys's navy was making foolish moves in response. A once in a thousand years opportunity lay before him.
Hundreds of prows cleaved the blue waters. Directly ahead, Daenerys's strange formation, seemingly prepared for the Ironborn, appeared cumbersome and slow to react. The vanguard was trapped in close combat with the Royal Fleet. The center was half attempting to rescue the vanguard and half maneuvering in confusion. The rear, barely ready for engagement, faced south. With the entire fleet struggling to counter the Iron Fleet, how long could this mere third of the ships hold out?
The massive formation swept toward the snipe and clam fiercely contending in the middle like a huge fishing net. Because they had so many more ships, the Ironborn could easily execute a pincer movement against both Stannis's and Daenerys's fleets at the same time, and still spare the fastest longboats to circle around and strike from behind. The outcome seemed certain, yet the attackers did not dare grow careless. The small but formidable fleet of Ice Canyon Port, created by the North in cooperation with the Night's Watch, and the astonishing rumors of the Gift army routing thousands with only a few hundred on the Blackwater River days earlier, had set alarm bells ringing in their hearts.
The Iron Islands had suffered several unspoken losses against those damned men of the Night's Watch. They absolutely could not capsize this time.
On the decks of the numerous ships, sailors ran everywhere, distributing buckets, wet cloths, and shields. The bombs and wildfire used by the Night's Watch had left a deep impression and a heavy shadow over the Ironborn. If they encountered them again, they had at least made preparations against those deadly weapons.
The sun was gradually setting. The massive shadow of Aegon's High Hill transformed from a small patch along the coast into a long, narrow greatsword stretching from west to east at astonishing speed, already threatening to cover the first battle group locked in fierce combat. Enduring continuous cannon fire, the Iron Fleet closed in on Daenerys's fleet. The enemy had clearly recognized the Serenity as the flagship. Amid scattered cannon fire, they specifically targeted the black-sailed, red-hulled warship. The hull had already been struck by a cannonball, yet Euron still stood fearlessly at the bow, commanding the attack without changing expression.
He could not allow anyone to see him dodging cannon fire.
With the morale of the rabble he led, any slight disturbance or sign of weakness could trigger a collapse.
Daenerys's fleet, its formation thoroughly disrupted by Stannis, laboriously pulled ships from the rear to the southern side, forming a thin line facing the Iron Fleet. These were dozens of large ships captured from the Volantis Invincible Fleet, each with tonnage no less than the Serenity. Lined up together, they looked formidable. If fully crewed, they might withstand his first wave of attack. But once the wings closed in, their fate would be sealed.
Euron tossed the long-handled axe from one hand to the other, relying on the repetitive motion to restrain the frenzy and bloodlust rising in his heart. He scanned the line of warships advancing toward him, preparing to choose the most unfortunate one to deal with personally.
His pupils suddenly contracted when he saw a familiar longship.
A two hundred foot black streamlined hull, a massive mast thick as a man's embrace, more than a hundred long oars, a deck spacious enough for two or three hundred men to stand, and at the bow, a huge unadorned steel ram. Though technically still a longship, its design focused more on combat and naval supremacy than raiding.
Ships of this size were common, but giant longships of this shape were rare in the world.
Even reduced to ashes, Euron would recognize it. This was the flagship of his foolish brother Victarion Greyjoy, whom he had sent from the Iron Islands to Meereen, only for him to perish in dragonflame after blowing the dragon horn. The former flagship of the Iron Fleet, the Invincible Ironborn.
Had his idiotic brother risen from the dead to oppose him, or which bastard dared challenge him at this crucial moment by using this eyesore of a ship to provoke him?
(To be continued.)