Before dawn, the sea was black as ink.
Two days earlier, the Greens' final ultimatum had just been delivered to Driftmark.
Now, under cover of night, they had already taken ships and fled.
The fleet left behind had orders to carry the wealth the Velaryons had accumulated on Driftmark to Tyrosh.
So they ran.
They hoped to flee to Dragonstone or Tyrosh before the army of the Greens arrived.
"The wind is favorable."
Aboard a twin-masted fast ship named Silver Seagull, the captain looked at the sails swollen with wind and showed a relieved smile.
"At this speed, we should soon reach Dragonstone, then turn toward Tyrosh…"
"We'll take the wealth to Tyrosh."
"When Lord Corlys returns with his army, we will still have a chance to rise again."
The captain looked into the distance. More than thirty Velaryon warships were sailing with them—this was the retreat arranged for them by Ser Cregan Velaryon, who had remained behind with the fleet.
This old commander knew well that Driftmark could not be held, so he had allowed these great ships to withdraw first, carrying the wealth accumulated by House Velaryon through a century of trade.
On every warship were members of the Velaryon family, craftsmen, and the house's core assets.
At this moment, aboard the Silver Seagull, more than thirty notable figures stood on the deck, all breathing a sigh of relief.
"The Seven be praised…" a middle-aged noble murmured in prayer.
Before his words had even faded—
"Port side! Port side—ships! Many ships!"
The lookout at the prow let out a shrill scream.
Everyone rushed to the port side of the deck.
The morning mist was beginning to disperse. On the horizon, a mass of black sails was pressing in from the northwest. Not one or two ships, not a dozen, but an entire fleet—at least thirty warships—spreading out in a fan formation and closing in with the posture of an encirclement.
The banners on the masts gradually became clear in the morning light: a golden three-headed dragon on a black field. The banner of the Greens.
"How is this possible…" The captain's face turned deathly pale. "Shouldn't they be attacking the harbor first? Why are they here…"
Of course, he had no way of knowing how thorough Aemond's orders had been.
Several days earlier, when Driftmark received the ultimatum and these people began preparing their escape, the spies Aemond had planted on the island had already been watching them constantly.
Before dawn today, when the Silver Seagull and the fleet left behind quietly slipped out of the harbor, they had already been marked.
The main fleet of Ser Elwyn Redwyne had long been lying in ambush along this sea route, waiting for these fugitives to throw themselves into the net.
"Turn the ship! Back to the harbor!" the captain roared.
The sailors desperately spun the helm and adjusted the sails.
But it was already too late.
From the clouds came a deafening dragon's roar.
The people on the deck covered their ears and looked up in terror, only to see a massive gray figure tearing through the clouds and diving down.
Vhagar.
"No!"
"How can Vhagar be here?!"
Two warships bore the brunt of it first, swallowed outright by the dragonfire the ancient dragon spewed from her jaws.
A sea of orange-red flames engulfed the hulls in an instant. Timber burst apart, sails burned, and the screams were drowned out by explosions.
Survivors leapt into the sea to escape, struggling in the icy water.
Taking advantage of the chaos, the swift ships of the Royal fleet closed the distance and seized the windward position, like a pack of sharks that had scented blood.
"Catapults!" Ser Rosso Brun, the naval commander, waved his hand and gave the order aboard his ship.
One fleeing warship was struck. A jar of burning oil smashed beneath the base of the sail, and the linen canvas erupted into flames at once.
The fire spread to the mast and the rigging, and before long the entire vessel became a blazing torch upon the sea.
The people aboard screamed as they jumped into the water, but upon the vast sea, to leap overboard was the same as death.
The Silver Seagull was somewhat luckier. Most of the arrows struck the ship's sides. But a stray arrow pierced the captain's shoulder, and he collapsed with a scream.
"Lower the sails! Stop the ship!"
The first mate looked at the Royal warships drawing ever closer, then at Vhagar raging in the sky above.
"We surrender! We surrender!"
A white flag was raised.
But the Royal fleet did not stop.
Ser Rosso remembered what Aemond had said at the council of war before the battle: "Those great ships carry the wealth accumulated by House Velaryon over generations. Close in and capture them. Those who resist—kill them without mercy."
The order was passed down.
Some warships still attempting to flee were caught by Vhagar. Dragonfire poured down, and their hulls exploded apart.
The scorpions and arrows aboard the fleet were useless against the ancient dragon. With a single sweep of her four-hundred-foot wings, the currents of air knocked those attacks aside.
Even if they struck, Vhagar felt nothing at all.
Those attacks could not pierce her dragon scales.
Flames destroyed the warships that tried to flee back toward the harbor. Timber shattered, and seawater rushed in.
Velaryon soldiers who fell into the water thrashed in the sea, while soldiers from the Royal warships rowed close in small boats and finished them with spears and arrows. Blood stained the seawater red, though the waves soon diluted it.
Of the fleeing fleet that remained, not a single ship escaped.
Facing the crushing power from the sky of Vhagar, Sunfyre, and Lothorne, together with the encirclement of the Royal navy at sea, the ships slowed one after another and began to accept surrender.
Only four warships, which stubbornly insisted on fleeing, were completely destroyed by dragonfire.
For those who insisted on fleeing, the Royal navy showed no mercy.
Dragonfire burned the ships, and those who leapt into the sea were shot down. More than four hundred people sank beneath the waves, among them many of Driftmark's elite sailors.
The Master of Ships, Ser Elwyn Redwyne, stood at the bow, looking out over the sea that had returned to calm, looking at the fleets that had surrendered. A surge of satisfaction rose in his heart.
These Velaryon warships left behind, and the wealth they carried aboard…
If the "Sea Snake," Corlys, were to learn that the wealth his house had accumulated over many years had been seized, he would surely spit blood.
The tally of the battle: six enemy ships sunk, twenty-nine captured, around four hundred fugitives annihilated, and almost no casualties on their own side.
A perfect victory.
Elwyn raised his head toward the sky. Vhagar and Sunfyre were flying toward Driftmark.
Now that this last fleet left behind had failed in its escape, there was no navy left upon these waters capable of opposing the Greens.
"Send ten warships to cover the prince's operation," Elwyn ordered.
The remaining fleet still had to gather the prisoners and inventory the property aboard the ships—wealth that would amount to an astronomical sum.
When Vhagar's enormous shadow appeared above the harbor, order in the port collapsed completely.
"Cast off! Cast off at once!" The captain of a Pentoshi merchant ship waved a curved blade, driving back the civilians trying to board. "This ship belongs to Pentos! Get away!"
"Captain, the Velaryon fleet has already been destroyed!" A sailor pointed to the black smoke rising from the waters outside the harbor. "Where can we flee?"
"Back to the eastern continent! This is a war of the Westerosi—what does it have to do with us?!"
On the docks, more than twenty merchant vessels scrambled to weigh anchor and raise sail. Sailors from the Free Cities of the eastern continent cut the mooring ropes, shoved aside the crowds pressing onto the gangplanks, and even slashed with blades at civilians trying to force their way aboard.
"Let me on the ship! I'll pay double the fare!"
"My child! My child is still on the shore!"
"Stop pushing! The ship will capsize!"
Crying, curses, and the clash of steel blended into a single cacophony.
At that moment, a dragon's roar came from the harbor entrance.
Everyone turned their heads—
A merchant ship attempting to flee was directly swallowed by the dragonfire rushing toward it and exploded into a ball of flame.
The harbor fell instantly silent. The merchants of the eastern continent were not fools. They understood: today, no one would leave.
More than ten warships entered one after another in dark ranks. Leading them were three triple-banked galleys, their prows sheathed in iron, their sides filled with firing ports. Golden three-headed dragon banners flew from the masts, and at the bows stood Royal navy soldiers in black armor, bows already drawn.
"The dragon is here!"
"It's the Greens!"
"The Royal navy has arrived!"
"Run!"
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