Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
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"Honor is a fool 's prize. Glory is of no use to the dead."
Revan
"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere, yes. Even between the land and the ship."
Grandmaster Yoda
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There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no fear; there is power.
I am the Heart of the Force.
I am the revealing fire of Light.
I am the mystery of Darkness
In balance with Chaos and Harmony,
Immortal in the Force
Je'daii Order Code
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Narrow Sea, Bay of Pentos
Year 298 AC (After Aegon Conquest)
Raevan
The Bay of Pentos stretching around them was an excellent harbor and a place for defense, but not before Pentos had a sufficiently large navy.
However, since the loss of the war with Braavos, they could only manage a fleet of 20 warships, and while some of their merchant ships likely carried hidden weapons, this was still too small a number to effectively defend the entrance to the bay.
Furthermore, defense was even less possible when the attack came by surprise. Raevan, using a mixture of pyro, cryo, and telekinesis, created a fog that obscured the arrival of his fleet.
Three dozen ships from the Driftmark and as many war galleys belonging to Braavos easily destroyed the four ships patrolling the entrance to the bay, then captured the bay in the blink of an eye.
As for the fortress on the edge of the Gulf at the entrance to the bay, Raevan took it personally. Ripping its gate from the walls and crushing a large portion of the defenders with it before the rest surrendered in terror.
Of the eight remaining Pentos warships in the bay, only two were ready, while the rest were docked in the harbor.
Raevan had chosen dawn for the attack for a reason, when fog often formed naturally on the coast. So as the fog he created with Force slowly engulfed the city, concealing his fleet as it slowly approached the harbor, no cries of panic or alarm reached them.
"Aurane, prepare the men to disembark. We must be quick," he said to the bastard of House Velaryon, who, in his father's name, commanded the Velaryon fleet sent to attack.
The young man smiled, excitement evident on his typically Valyrian face, and after a short pause, said, "As you command, my Prince." He began issuing orders to the waiting soldiers and sailors.
Raevan, meanwhile, reached through the Force into the mind of Doriano Antaryon, the Sealord's son, who commanded the Braavosi fleet in this attack.
Interestingly, while both the Sealord and his son, despite their previous oath of allegiance, responded surprisingly well to the order to attack Pentos, the same was true for the rest of the city.
On his orders, Braavos was completely sealed off for two days, and no ships were allowed to leave port until the war fleet had sailed.
In this way, he ensured that news of his seizure of Braavos and the fleet's movements would not reach his enemies beforehand.
As a result, all ships belonging to the other Free Cities were commandeered and incorporated into the Braavosi merchant fleet, which Raevan now considered his own.
Raevan proclaimed with a Force-enhanced voice from the summit of the Titan of Braavos that the city had joined the alliance with the Seven Kingdoms - this was the official version for now - and that they would soon conquer the remaining Free Cities together, introducing a complete ban on slavery.
The city's inhabitants were initially hesitant, but in the name of fighting slavery, they embraced this "alliance" with surprising ferocity.
Of course, the most important figures in the city, including the keyholders of the Iron Bank, were informed of the true situation.
Braavos pledged him fealty, and he became its ruler for life, though the details would be worked out later.
Upon learning that he would command Braavosi ships in an attack on Pentos, their once-hated rival, Doriano couldn't hide his excitement, which masked his earlier anger at Raevan himself.
Taking control of Braavos itself was a key move in the coming war. The Free City not only harbored an innate animosity and resentment towards the other Free Cities, which practiced slavery, but also possessed the largest navy in the world.
600 warships, the finest in the world at that, at least until his Ships of the Line sailed. Moreover, he was even more determined to have their shipyards, which were said to be capable of producing one ship per day. A truly insane achievement.
With such a resource, with the right adjustments, he could probably produce new ships every few days until they conquered the seas.
Braavos was a significant victory, and now it was time for the next targets. While he was attacking Pentos, another 100 ships set out from Braavos to capture Lorath.
His thoughts returning to the coming battle, he telepathically addressed the Braavosi commander, "Dorian, your task and that of your men are to seize the docks and all ships in the harbor. Every ship captured is a ship belonging to us more."
He heard a curt reply, "As you wish, Prince Raevan." Then his thoughts focused on Pentos itself, searching for any possible Force users.
After reassuring himself several times, he breathed a sigh of relief, not because he feared them, but rather because he could focus on capturing the city itself and coordinating the attack.
Besides, he didn't expect much resistance, for according to what he had learned from interrogating Pentosian merchants captured in Braavos, only four hundred Second Sons were stationed in the city.
Pentos itself had no army of its own, save for a city guard of no more than 700 men. Raevan expected the city to be conquered with the easiest ease of all his planned conquests.
Perhaps 150 meters from the shore, Raevan abandoned the slowing ship and plunged forward, running underwater, propelling himself with carefully controlled telekinetic thrusts.
In the blink of an eye, he found himself on the quay, which, like most of the port area, was shrouded in fog. Raevan released the fog from his control, because for the purposes of his plans, visibility in the city had to be good.
He then began incapacitating the few guards patrolling the harbor, ignoring the early-morning dock "workers," who were essentially slaves.
A broken neck here, a crushed heart there. He moved through the city like a ghost, heading towards Illyrio Mopatis's residence, where the damn magister and the Second Sons command were located, leaving numerous corpses in his wake.
The slaves he had spared naturally began to flee, but his men were already ashore. The few thousand he had with him should easily have pacified the city, which was still three-quarters composed of slaves by a much more pleasant name.
He smashed into the mansion's gate with a Force-enhanced kick, shattering the wooden, iron-bound gates and killing two Unsullied and several of the mercenaries camped in tents within the mansion's walls.
Panic erupted among the remaining mercenaries, while several Unsullied rushed toward him without hesitation.
He extended his hand toward them and, using telekinesis, flung them like rags into the surrounding buildings, walls, and mercenary tents.
The sound of shattered flesh and breaking bones terrified the mercenaries even more, most of whom, sleepy and nearly naked, rushed in the opposite direction.
He hurled the Dawnbreaker, renamed the former Lady Forlorn, in front of him, and then, controlling the flight of the Valyrian steel blade, it cleaved two dozen mercenaries in a matter of seconds.
Although a momentary silence fell outside, broken only by the sound of bells ringing throughout the city, the interior of the manor was filled with screams and the sound of numerous footsteps.
As the hilt of his sword landed in his hand again, he sheathed the blade. Then, focusing his gaze on the sprawling mansion, he stretched out his arms, reaching out with the Force in an attempt to perform one of the most ambitious feats of telekinetic control in his life.
The entire building, easily two thousand square meters in size, began to shake to its foundations and then, a moment later, lifted off the ground.
He gritted his teeth, feeling sweat slowly dripping down his forehead, then drew even deeper into the Force, simultaneously drawing from both the Light and Dark Sides, blending them together.
The slowly rising structure began to fall into fragments, but this wasn't the chaotic collapse of crumbling walls. Nothing like it. Driven by his will, every stone, every pillar, every piece of wood, and thousands of other objects inside, along with the people inside, began to levitate individually, separating themselves from one another.
People began pouring out of nearby buildings, primarily the residences of other magisters, watching in horror at the supernatural event before them.
After waiting a few minutes, he was sure he had attracted enough attention, especially since Illyrio's residence, as well as several others belonging to the wealthiest magisters, were situated on a slight rise, slightly overlooking the city, and what was happening was visible from most of the city.
Dozens, hundreds of thousands of building fragments rose to heights of several dozen meters, creating a slowly swirling tornado, while levitating people, primarily Unsullied and slaves, began to slowly descend to the ground nearby, one by one.
Gritting his teeth in even greater effort, he began lowering the levitating building components to the ground, arranging them in their proper stacks.
He knew this feat would cost him a splitting headache and mental exhaustion, but he knew it would be worth it. Word of such a display of power would spread throughout the world, likely exaggerated many times over.
Taking a deep breath, knowing that Raevan had moved forward amidst the stunned slaves, many of whom lay on the ground terrified and even vomiting from the experience.
He finally stopped before a bald, obese, and naked man cowering on the ground, his eyes filled with utter terror.
Raevan looked at the man cowering at his feet with barely controlled fury, fully aware that this wretched reptile was one of the people responsible for his mother's death. Illyrio was the mastermind of the entire alliance against the House of the Dragon.
He couldn't bear the thought that this insignificant worm, now crouching at his feet, his feeble ambition reaching higher than he had any right to, had contributed to such a tragedy.
He would have done to him what he had done to the Faceless Men, but he had no use for the worthless fool.
He also didn't intend to waste hours on torture; instead, he delved into his mind to extract as much information as possible, breaking through the barriers created by Sith Alchemy. Of course, he intended to do everything in his power to make Illyrio Mopatis regret the moment he first looked west with his greedy eyes.
Extracting what he could, despite the magister's very soul being erased by the Dark Side ritual, he used pyrokinesis to slowly heat the blood in Illyrio's veins. At the same time, he used Force Heeling to keep the man alive as long as possible. The screams that escaped the man's lips were more like the sound of an animal being slaughtered.
He was certain that if any of the Jedi Council members saw what he was using the techniques of the light side of the Force for, they would have heart palpitations. Against a normal opponent, Raevan might have hesitated, but not against Illyrio and his allies.
When he was finished with them, their potential successors would whisper his name in fear in dark corners, praying to their gods that his wrath would not fall upon them. He didn't kid himself that there would never be men foolish and ambitious enough to oppose him, but it was a calculated risk that would always exist as long as men lived.
After all, wasn't such behavior the reason why the human race settled most of the galaxy and dominated it? Stubbornness and ambition to reach higher and further than their status or means allowed. Added to this was a healthy dose of stupidity and recklessness. And thus, humans became the most influential race in the galaxy.
So did he blame Illyrio for his ambition? No. But for the fact that his ambition had been turned against him, absolutely. With cold satisfaction, but without joy, he watched as the most important Magister of Pentos and one of the richest men in the world writhed in pain before his eyes.
His mind and body were in such agony that they merged. The magister's blood literally boiled, and his mind shattered into pieces until the end came.
Illyrio's lifeless corpse fell to the ground, his body reddened and swollen, steaming blood pouring from orifices on his body, his face a mask of terror and torment.
Raevan looked at the people around him, mostly slaves, who were backing away from him in terror, some even crawling.
"I am Raevan Targaryen, and from this moment on, Pentos belongs to me!" he said, his Force-amplified voice echoing not only across the hill but throughout the entire city. "Your debts are now null and void, and from this moment on, you are all free and equal in my eyes! In addition, anyone who betrays one of the magisters or lords to my people will receive 10 gold coins!"
With these words he sealed the city's fate, for the city's confused and frightened inhabitants, most of whom were slaves in all but name, upon hearing the promise of freedom and gold, turned against their former masters without hesitation.
Even despite the fervor with which the former slaves rushed to hunt their masters, there were no major massacres in the city. His soldiers maintained order, and his display of power was so deeply etched in the minds of the people that it curbed their wildest urges.
By evening, the city was under his complete control. The former lords, magisters, and most influential figures of Pentos were gathered in several of the larger residences, where Raevan sifted the chaff from the weeds. Those he deemed useful he spared, while the rest were slaughtered, except for the youngest children.
Was it cruel? Certainly. But was it necessary? Absolutely. The last thing he needed was future avengers. War never changes. It has always been cruel and will remain so, no matter how nobly one tries to justify it.
Ahead of them lay an incredibly long campaign, likely stretching for years across all of Western Essos, for Raevan had no intention of stopping until all the Free Cities and Ghiskar cities had fallen.
He couldn't afford to let his emotions, or even his morality, influence warfare. He had experienced so much conflict in his life that he had long ago understood that sentiment had no place in war.
Certain principles had to be upheld, but not at the expense of everything else. His armies would not rape, burn, or pillage, not because it was honorable or immoral, but because it was his will.
And because he had no intention of wasting time rebuilding those damned cities. This war would not only shatter the Free Cities but also the soldiers of the Westeros army. He intended to break them and forge them into the strongest army in the world during this conflict.
On the second day, at dawn, he found himself in port, observing the constantly arriving ships carrying the first part of his army, which was to assemble in Pentos. Five thousand soldiers, with another thirty thousand expected to join within the next moon.
At the head of this army, he intended to set out for Ghoyan Drohe, an old Rhoynar city destroyed during the war with Valyria.
Although he had heard that, like the other Rhoynar cities, this one was cursed, he was certain it would pose no problem for him. He had his own ways of dealing with "curses."
Ghoyan Drohe would become his base of operations for attacks on Norvos and Qohor, but above all, it would be the gateway to the River Rhoyne and the absurdly rich and fertile lands surrounding it.
All records indicated that the wealth of these lands surpassed anything Westeros could offer. They were just waiting for someone with the knowledge and courage to seize them.
Let Aegon keep the Seven Kingdoms, and he would build his own empire, one that would surpass all that preceded it in glory and, in the future, reach even to the stars.
But this would take time and careful planning. As his army slowly gathered in Pentos, he intended, rather than sit and wait, to go ahead.
Soon, he would lead the armada against Myr and Tyrosh, while the Redwaynes, along with another forty thousand men under Randyll Tarly, would take Lys.
Thus, the entire western coast would fall under their control—or rather, under his control. For that was the condition he had set for his father.
If he wished to win this war, and if he wished to avenge their mother's death, everything west of the Narrow Sea would belong to Raevan.
He always knew his mother desired him to one day ascend the throne, and though she hid it well, her thoughts were more than apparent to him.
So he saw this war and conquest not only as an act of revenge for Lyanna Stark's death but also as a tribute to his mother's desire. For revenge might not soothe the pain of her loss, but fulfilling her dream might.
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Essos, Myr
Year 298 AC (After Aegon Conquest)
Merek Vashar, Member of the Conclave of Myr
"Malaquo Maegyr is dead; the same goes for Leorio Alequo. They were killed by the prince," the black-robed figure said, and while it seemed as if she was simply informing them, Merek felt as if she was making accusations against them.
"But that's not all. Raevan Targaryen destroyed the order of the Faceless Men and destroyed their temple. Our Lord is displeased with your incompetence."
Hearing those words, he felt like throwing something. Had one of those arrogant sorcerers not only allowed himself to be killed by the prince but also ruined their alliance with the High Septon, whose revealed betrayal allowed the Targaryen's to consolidate control of their kingdom.
As it turned out, however, his friend Ernesteo from Lys had no qualms about pointing out their own mistakes to their 'allies.' "Didn't you say you'd deal with Prince Raevan and the threat he posed? But as we all see, he's the one who dealt with you."
Before either of them knew it, their hooded ally was in front of Ernesteo, his hand outstretched, and a net of lightning bolts shot out, covering the man and leaving only a smoking corpse in seconds.
The room fell silent, filled with the stench of burning flesh, and neither he nor any of his allies dared to even draw a breath.
"Let this be a warning and a reminder to you," the figure spoke, its voice sending shivers down their spines. "We need you while you are still useful. When you are no longer useful, we will replace you with your opponents. And without us, you are alone in your fight against Raevan, and I assure you, it is a fight you cannot win."
Marcus looked down at his hands, which were trembling uncontrollably, while a terror blossomed within him, vivid and almost tangible, a kind he had never experienced before.
They were trapped in a war between sorcerers who possessed powers that shouldn't even exist. He regretted the moment he'd welcomed Illyrio into his home and allowed himself to be talked into this absurd plan.
Though the thought of what would have happened if he had refused haunted him. Wouldn't he have ended up like Ernesteo? Moreover, without any action, Myr faced a not-so-slow decline, as the Targaryens had taken over two-thirds of their glass customers within four years. And that number was growing all the time.
He was ripped from his thoughts by the voice of the hooded figure, who spoke again, this time offering a carrot instead of a stick.
"Our Lord also admits that he underestimated Prince Raevan's strength, despite his suspicions. Therefore, he will send two dozen of his finest adepts into battle, including two Dark Lords of the Sith from the Dark Council."
Looking at their confused faces, he added by way of explanation. "This may not tell you much, but each of them will be more powerful than I am. Their domain is combat, and they specialize in killing."
The figure fell silent for a moment, then added, "One more thing. Our Lord will not forget the promise he made to you. If you prove useful, you will receive wealth and power beyond your wildest dreams. Prove your worth, and the reward will be just as magnificent."
Marek glanced at the others, seeing the same relief in their eyes. If they were to receive their rewards, they would grit their teeth, bow their heads, and do as they were told for now.
"When can we expect our new allies to arrive?" he asked, gathering his courage.
"Not soon. The journey from Asshai is long, and even though they set sail some time ago, it will still take them about two moons."
The answer they received was more than satisfactory. Asshai was indeed extremely far away, so he had expected it to take much longer, but the sorcerers clearly had methods to speed up the journey.
Suddenly, the hooded figure's head turned immediately toward the window, overlooking the city and the coast beyond.
"He's here," the man said, waving his hand and opening the window with his magic, through which a thick fog began to pour.