Chapter 111: A Tower Rising from the Sea
In 271 AC, the war for the Stepstones turned into a maritime massacre!
Rhaegar, astride his dragon, swept across the seas around the Stepstones in a frenzy. Below, the fleet under Ser Corlys Velaryon of Driftmark prowled, its scorpions, javelin-men, and longbowmen pushing floating booms, burning pirate hulls, and killing every soul they could, trapping the corsairs on barren isles.
The swift pirates fled toward Myr and the Disputed Lands; the slow ones were left to the mercy of dragonflame, longbows, and scorpion bolts.
The Iron Throne's royal fleet and the Redwyne Fleet kept tightening the noose—seize the islets first, then choke Bloodstone and Grey Gallows together.
Rhaegar's tactic of besieging strongholds while annihilating relief forces paid off: pirates and Lysene exiles had limited manpower, and without formal backing from the Free Cities they held no advantage at sea. In its prime, the Kingdom of the Three Daughters had launched ninety great warships at once and ruled these waters; now Rhaegar's dragon-fury and his Fire Sight gave him total command of the skies above the Stepstones, and the pirates' famed mobility was rendered useless.
Day by day the pirates and Lysene refugees lost ground, and the once-blockaded trade routes pulsed with life again.
Yet the cheers Rhaegar won in Westeros were matched by the hatred he earned in Lys and Myr.
He was the true dragon of Westeros—and the Butcher of the Narrow Sea to every corsair of Lys and Myr. Youngest among the high command, he dealt the pirates their gravest wounds, and the Free Cities seethed that a youth so ruthless should wield such power.
Rhaegar wheeled the Silver Emperor above the waves, with the black dragon and the purple dragon close behind. When not on campaign the young dragons loved to hunt, but the Stepstones and Dorne offered little prey; sometimes they even dove to snatch fish from the sea.
As for distant Sothoryos or the Summer Isles, Rhaegar could not yet fly so far.
The goldenheart longbows of the Summer Isles were peerless weapons, yet the islanders forbade their export; hoping to chance upon more was mere fantasy.
"The outlook is murky. Lysene and Myrish fleets may intervene. They loathe pirates, but they loathe the Iron Throne holding the Stepstones even more."
"A cabal of Lysene merchants is already lobbying the First Magister to keep the islands a three-way no-man's-land."
Letters borne from Lys and Volantis carried news to Rhaegar.
As the Stepstones war ground on, Lys and Myr began to stir.
"Things are turning uglier."
The parchment in Rhaegar's hand flared to ash.
If Lys moved openly, Tyrosh would respond, and the Stepstones would boil once more. Tyrosh and Lys were ancient rivals; the appearance of Lysene galleys would spark retaliation. Rhaegar had quietly exchanged correspondence with the Archon of Tyrosh.
In the end, it was commerce and power. Pirates fenced plunder through Lysene, Myrish, and Tyroshi brokers, hired sellswords in the Disputed Lands, and supplied flesh to the pleasure houses and slave markets of Lys and Tyrosh. Now Lys and Myr feared the Iron Throne would choke the Stepstones and levy crushing tolls, perhaps even dominate the Narrow Sea's arteries.
"Time to hasten the end," Rhaegar decided. Lysene and Myrish squadrons might intervene at any moment. The pirates must be broken swiftly.
"Come, Silver Emperor!"
The dragon bore him toward the encircled islands.
From above, Bloodstone and Grey Gallows appeared like twin towers rising from the sea.
Every passing merchant could see it: palisades ringed the shores without a gap, and beyond them the Royal Fleet maintained vigilant watch.
A long cordon of ships choked the islands. Using aerial supremacy and manpower, Rhaegar had ordered sunken hulls and barriers raised piece by piece, sealing Bloodstone's coastline. Great warships loomed beyond, scouring every inlet; any pirate who showed himself faced flame, lance, spear, and arrow—an advancing wall of death.
From the sky, the twin islands resembled uneven circles.
The first ring was palisade and wreckage—a siege base of timber and earth.
The second ring consisted of patrolling Westerosi galleys, their sheer size inspiring dread.
Soldiers drove stakes into sand and rock alike, gradually tightening the stranglehold, leaving only narrow passages. Any pirate who attempted a breakout met a storm of steel—unless he cast down his arms and surrendered.
When the first palisades rose, the corsairs attempted to burn or topple them, but dragonfire and naval bombardment drove them back.
Even the dullest pirate now understood: the Iron Throne meant to starve them.
Without food, water, or hope, they would consume one another.
Rhaegar chose to purge Grey Gallows first.
"Beat the drums—advance!"
He intended to finish before any outside power could interfere.
Ser Corlys would command the fleet.
Ser Brynden would lead the longbowmen.
Bronze Yohn Royce would oversee the main landing force.
War drums thundered as dragons wheeled overhead.
The corsairs heard the drums—and perhaps their own death knell.
For whom does the bell toll?
The Iron Throne's levies raised shields and spears, opened the barriers, and surged onto the beaches.
Dragonflame had already scoured the shoreline countless times. The starving pirates, weakened beyond measure, clustered in the island's interior. The landing was swift.
The dragons shrieked in savage delight.
Fire blossomed—crimson, silver, violet—each detonation echoing like thunder.
Repeated strafing runs pinned the defenders, leaving them barely capable of resistance.
White flags rose.
The most stubborn fled toward Bloodstone, though none believed that neighboring rock could save them—they ran only to prolong their lives.
Rhaegar observed the surrendered pirates: ragged, skeletal, eyes hollow with hunger.
Another fortnight and they would have turned upon each other.
Wave after wave of troops secured the island.
The self-proclaimed King of the Narrow Sea now hid within his cavern on Bloodstone, watching his dominion collapse isle by isle.
Then—
A commotion erupted along Bloodstone's palisade.
Driven past desperation, the pirates gathered.
They would launch a mass assault against the walls.
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