The two quickly snapped out of their shock.
Roro drew a deep breath, his gaze sharpening as he barked an order to the officer waiting behind him.
"Pass the word! All ships, hoist sail and row hard. Sweep the sea clean—drag out every last one of those Seven Kingdoms wretches still breathing. Not a single one slips through."
The officer raised the signal flag at once.
The command rippled outward like waves across the fleet.
Nearly a hundred warships, like sharks scenting blood, drove their oars into the water, cutting through the waves toward the golden stretch of sea still burning, littered with wreckage and survivors.
After nearly two months of repairs, Salladhor's seventy-five warships were back in service. With Lo Quen's original forty-eight, their fleet now numbered one hundred and twenty-three.
But a large portion remained stationed near Broken Spear Isle to watch and contain the Tyroshi, leaving fewer than a hundred ships to take part in this battle.
Though called a "naval battle," Roro and Hal's task was brutally simple—mop up survivors.
The Seven Kingdoms fleet had collapsed utterly beneath Dragonfire. Those still alive clung to splintered planks or corpses in the freezing sea, struggling like dumplings tossed into a boiling pot.
Roro and Hal's ships scooped them up with ease, hauling them aboard as though casting nets for fish.
The sailors and camp followers had long since lost the will to fight, terror and cold leaving them limp and compliant as soldiers bound them like husks of men.
Knights and soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms, however, remained defiant, thrashing in the water or resisting once dragged ashore.
Most wore heavy armor. Struggling in the icy waves had already drained them dry, leaving them too weak to resist once hauled onto the decks. Soldiers pounced like wolves, ripping the sodden armor from their bodies and binding them with hemp rope in a humiliating "prawn-shape."
For many lords and knights, it was a degradation they had never known.
Their faces turned livid, eyes blazing with fury as they glared at the men they called "Stepstones pirates," spewing curses with what little strength they had left.
Roro and Hal had no patience for the pride of beaten men.
When nobles or knights spat filth and postured, soldiers slapped them hard across the face without hesitation. Bloodied and dazed, they were forced into silence.
At the same time, Roro and Hal ordered a careful accounting of the captives—names, houses, lands, titles—every detail recorded.
Some lords and knights refused to answer, still wearing their arrogance.
Roro only sneered and had them beaten until soldiers who recognized them confirmed their identities, stripping away their pride piece by piece.
The number of survivors far exceeded expectation. Roro and Hal's fleet made trip after trip across the waters, hauling in captives.
Only when night had fallen and the last bodies disappeared beneath the sea did they return to Bloodstone with their final load of prisoners.
...
Bloodstone, the Tower.
Lo Quen took the thick roll of names from Roro, his gaze flashing over it like lightning. His brow furrowed.
"The King of the Seven Kingdoms—missing?!"
Shame flickered across Roro's face. "My lord, Hal and I searched for hours. Every hiding place we could find. There's no sign of the King.
And according to Meizo Mahr, this campaign was led not only by the King himself, but also by Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End.
But of those three, we found none."
Lo Quen was silent a moment before asking, "And the Kingsguard? White cloaks, white armor—they should be easy to spot."
If the king's sworn shields had been captured, they could have offered a clue.
Roro shook his head. "None, my lord. Not a single white cloak."
Lo Quen's eyes narrowed. "This sea is perilous, but not enough to drown every soul aboard the King's flagship. Some must have survived. Yet we haven't caught a single key figure... Their reaction was fast. They slipped away before the hammer fell."
He recalled the order of his assault—he had struck first at the ships landing near the pier. That had given the vessels further out a chance to flee.
Seeing his master's unease, Roro quickly added, "Lord, there's no need for worry. Hal counted the wrecks of the Seven Kingdoms warships consumed in the fire. Three hundred and ninety-five in all. Even if a few escaped, they'll never have the strength to return."
Lo Quen gave a slow nod. Roro was right.
The Seven Kingdoms' naval strength rested on three pillars: the Royal Fleet, the Redwyne Fleet of the Arbor, and the Iron Fleet of the Iron Islands.
This time Robert had thrown in nearly everything—every warship of the Royal Fleet and the best of the Redwyne Fleet, some four hundred ships in total.
Now the Royal Fleet was gone, the Redwyne warships nearly wiped out. Only their vast merchant fleet remained, their might reduced to almost nothing.
But merchantmen were no warships.
Built broad and heavy, designed to carry cargo across oceans, they relied on sail, not oar. In narrow seas and close combat, they were hopelessly outmatched by warships built for speed and maneuver.
Moreover, merchant ships lacked heavy weapons such as ballistae and catapults. If struck by a professional oared warship, their hulls—or even their keels—could be smashed by rams and bolts, dooming nearly everyone aboard.
And after seeing with their own eyes the terror of a dragon, could the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms truly find the courage—or the means—to mount another expedition of such scale across the sea?
The answer was obvious.
Lo Quen's gaze fell back to the list.
It was crammed with the names, houses, and titles of more than three hundred captured nobles and knights of the Seven Kingdoms.
The soldiers, camp followers, and sailors had also been tallied.
Roughly twenty thousand soldiers were taken, along with nearly fifty thousand laborers and sailors.
Roro spoke up beside him. "My lord, four hundred ships—at the very least three hundred men to each—would mean over one hundred and twenty thousand in total. Only about seventy thousand survived. Of those, no more than a third were true fighting men. The rest were laborers for grain and equipment, craftsmen for building works, as well as oarsmen and sailors."
Lo Quen was not surprised by the proportion.
In wars fought with cold steel, men of supply often outnumbered men of battle many times over.
Among these captives from across the Seven Kingdoms were skilled artisans—stonemasons, blacksmiths, carpenters, shipwrights—as well as countless cooks, porters, and other laborers.
All of them were valuable resources.
Lo Quen gave his orders to Roro. "Good. Sort the laborers and sailors by craft and trade, and prepare me a clearer list of their numbers."
Then he tapped the roster of noble names, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smile. "As for these honored lords—invite them to the hall of the tower. I intend to give them a proper welcome."
Roro bowed his head in understanding. "Yes, my lord."