"Dragons! The dragons are burning the city!"
The moment the city guard captain died, the harbor docks fell completely. Under the fury of the Cannibal and Sheepstealer, the entire waterfront turned into a raging inferno.
The mercenaries and slave soldiers sent by Archon Bambarro Bazanne stared up at the two dragons circling overhead and broke. None of them dared come any closer.
Truth was, they had few ways to actually hurt the beasts. Unless the dragons flew low for crossbow shots or heavy ballistae could target the eyes, dragon scales were nearly impossible to pierce.
Merchants and dock workers fled screaming. Fortunately, Logar had only targeted the warehouses and soldiers who attacked him—he wasn't slaughtering civilians—so casualties stayed limited.
Still, the chaos spread fast from the docks to the main city and out to the surrounding islands.
The powerful noble families ruling Lys were stunned. They rushed men from their private islands toward the harbor, but by then Logar and Nettles had already withdrawn.
Riding high on the Cannibal, Logar left one last message booming across the burning port:
"You get one more day! Deliver Prince Viserys unharmed!
Refuse, and every day after that, I'll burn one of your islands until you hand him over!"
With that, he and Nettles flew away, leaving the harbor in flames.
Once the dragons left, the Archon's council called an emergency meeting in the grand hall. The leaders of Lys gathered to decide how to handle these Black dragonriders who'd crossed the Narrow Sea.
The old families—House Rogare, House Vhyss, and the rest—immediately turned on Archon Bambarro Bazanne. They blamed him for poor leadership and failing to stop the dragon attack, claiming he'd brought massive losses down on them all.
The loudest voice belonged to Lysandro Rogare, head of House Rogare.
Lys's richest banker had long wanted the Archon's seat. The war losses hadn't hit him too badly, but he saw his chance to destroy Bambarro.
"The Gullet battle losses aren't even counted yet, and now the Blacks have sent dragonriders across the Narrow Sea to attack us! Our fights with Tyrosh and Myr aren't settled, and now we've got two dragons breathing fire down our necks..."
Lysandro Rogare's platinum-blond hair caught the light as his voice rang with outrage. "My dear Archon, how exactly do you plan to fix this disaster and repay our losses?"
"Exactly!" the head of House Vhyss joined in fiercely. "We took heavy losses in the Gullet, and Myr and Tyrosh are still accusing us of holding back troops. Now the Westerosi Blacks have sent dragonriders demanding blood. When has our proud Valyrian jewel of Lys ever been humiliated like this?"
As the bankrupt Archon, Bambarro Bazanne had nothing left to lose. He had zero intention of handing over Prince Viserys—that boy was his last and only ticket back to power.
He cleared his throat and spoke with forced calm: "Gentlemen, one problem at a time.
We can set aside our issues with Tyrosh and Myr for now. The immediate priority is dealing with those two dragonriders and their beasts..."
"How are we supposed to fight them?" one councilor sneered. "We all saw what happened today—your mercenaries were completely useless against two dragons!"
"You're mistaken," Bambarro replied with a twisted smile. "Today's attack was merely a test to learn how they operate.
Don't forget—we still have our army of Unsullied. They're our true strength. And we have one final, ultimate weapon that will definitely take care of those dragons!"
"You mean...?" Lysandro Rogare's eyes narrowed sharply.
"Exactly. The Strangler," Bambarro said, his eyes lighting up with manic intensity. "Even though dragons have been absent from these lands for generations, the knowledge of how to kill them hasn't been forgotten.
The Alchemists' Guild of Lys produces the poison known as the Strangler—and it is the perfect counter to dragons!"
"Tomorrow, I need every family to send out your purchased Unsullied to engage the dragons. We'll coat our arrows with the precious Strangler poison. That will bring them down!
Not only will this recover our losses, it will send a message that will make those bastards in Tyrosh and Myr think twice. Why wouldn't we do it?"
The Unsullied—those elite, emotionless slave soldiers trained in Astapor—knew nothing but absolute obedience and had no fear of death.
The Strangler was an even rarer and more deadly poison than the famous Tears of Lys. With both weapons combined, how could they possibly fail against mere dragons?
Seeing the crazed look in Bambarro's eyes, most of the councilors fell silent. A few even looked intrigued.
Only Lysandro Rogare and the Vhyss patriarch exchanged a knowing glance. They understood exactly what this meant.
The Archon was going all-in. He was betting everything on one desperate throw of the dice.
"Go ahead and empty your purse, Bambarro," Lysandro thought with cold amusement. "I'll enjoy watching you lose everything."
As the old saying went: If you want a man destroyed, first drive him mad.
Bambarro Bazanne had already lost the trust of the city after the Gullet disaster. Another failure would finish him for good.
While lending their Unsullied and precious stores of Strangler poison was a risk, Lysandro was perfectly happy to watch the Archon spiral. After all, it wouldn't be his men facing dragonfire.
In the end, the motion passed. The ancient houses of Lys agreed to place their elite Unsullied troops under Archon Bambarro Bazanne's command and supply the deadly Strangler poison.
The meeting broke up quickly. Everyone hurried out to make preparations.
They had witnessed the dragons' wrath today and had no desire to suffer even worse destruction tomorrow.
"Damn Rogare... and damn the Vhysses too..."
Once the council chamber emptied, Bambarro Bazanne sat alone, his face dark as a storm cloud.
He knew full well that those two family heads wanted nothing more than to see him fall so they could seize the Archon's seat. The great houses of Lys had always feasted on each other's weakness.
His most trusted aide slipped into the room and whispered a quiet report.
Bambarro listened with an expressionless face and gave a slight nod.
Prince Viserys had been secretly moved to an unknown safe location long before he'd left his estate. No one would find him.
Only after confirming the prince was completely secure did Bambarro finally let out a long breath.
His total bankruptcy had given him the courage for one last desperate gamble. Everything now rested on tomorrow.
If the Unsullied and the Strangler succeeded in slaying those dragons, every crisis facing him would vanish in an instant.
"Everything comes down to tomorrow."
He stared out the window at the harbor still smoldering with the aftermath of dragonfire, a glint of pure madness in his eyes.