Recharino was swift, yet Drakoncrest answered even faster.
The island did not rely on the tangled feudal chains of the Seven Kingdoms, where a liege summoned his vassals, who in turn summoned their own lesser lords. Drakoncrest obeyed a different order, one forged by Prince Aegon himself.
The North and East districts were divided into villages of varying size, each with its own elected village chief. Three to five villages formed a production town, whose town chief was directly appointed by Aegon and granted the rank of ninth-level knight. Village chiefs reported upward, town chiefs answered directly, and the chain of command was clean and ruthless.
Thus, when Kraken issued a single order in Aegon's name, five thousand able-bodied youths were mobilized at once.
True Dragon Port.
Fifty knights stood in polished armor, banners snapping in the wind. Five thousand armored youths filled the docks and shoreline, spearpoints glittering beneath the gray sky.
Loren surveyed the harbor, his jaw tight. He spoke without raising his voice, yet every man nearby leaned in.
"Our fleet is limited," he said. "We cannot meet the Tyroshi at sea. We force them to land. The beach is their weakness."
He lifted a gauntleted hand and pointed toward the pale strip of sand beyond the port walls.
"That shoreline is suited for fast ships. We fortify it. True Dragon Port is deep-water and nearly complete. It must be defended at all costs, along with the stores and dry docks within."
Ent Staunton swallowed, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.
"We have five thousand men," he said, unable to keep the strain from his voice. "They have come in force. Thirty thousand at least. How are we meant to hold them?"
Loren turned, fixing him with a sharp stare.
"One thousand board the ships and defend the harbor itself. Three thousand five hundred take the beach. Five hundred remain inside the port as reserve."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You will oversee the deployment. I am going to find Kraken."
Ent's eyes widened. "Me? Lord Loren, I…"
Loren cut him off with a snap of his fingers.
"No excuses. If these defenses are not in place when I return, I will report directly to His Highness. You may explain your failure to Prince Aegon yourself."
Ent's shoulders slumped as Loren strode away.
He had only wanted a quiet post, a life of ledgers and routine. Yet war had found him all the same. Still, despite his lack of field experience, his grasp of theory was sound. He drew a steadying breath and began issuing orders.
Loren rode hard toward the Dragonpit.
Sunfyre had just emerged, golden wings catching the light as the dragon shook himself free of dust and ash. Kraken stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back, his posture stiff with tension.
Kraken frowned when he saw Loren approach. "Something wrong? You should be at the port."
Loren dismounted. "I came to see how much Sunfyre understands of complex orders."
Kraken blinked, then let out a short breath. "You need not worry. Sunfyre is… sharper than we ever expected."
Loren hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Can he follow the fleet into battle? True Dragon Port must not fall. If it does, the consequences will be beyond measure."
Kraken pressed his lips together. After a moment, he nodded. "I will try."
Sunfyre tilted his head, slit pupils narrowing as he studied the two men. The dragon's thoughts were alien, simple in their certainty.
Kill the enemies. Drakoncrest remains safe. Why speak so much?
A low rumble rose from his chest.
With a sudden beat of his wings, Sunfyre leapt skyward, climbing into the clouds without waiting for further command.
Loren stared after him. "That was… unexpected."
Kraken shook his head slowly. "I told him only the general situation."
He sounded as uncertain as he looked.
Loren exhaled. "Then we leave it to fate. Hugh has already sailed for Tyrosh. Whoever withstands the other's blow will decide this war."
Hugh, now a dragonrider, carried Dragonstone's elite fleet with him. Landing on Tyrosh would be far easier than Tyrosh landing here. If fortune held, he would tear a great wound into that bloated city.
True Dragon Port.
The defenses were in place.
Three thousand five hundred lined the beach behind hastily raised barricades. One thousand manned the ships. Five hundred waited within the port, ready to reinforce any breach.
Ent walked the line, correcting positions, adjusting formations. His heartbeat steadied as the plan took shape.
Then the horns sounded.
A dark line appeared on the horizon, swelling into a forest of masts and sails. The Tyroshi fleet rolled forward like a living thing, blotting out sea and sky alike.
Some of the conscripts went pale. A few trembled openly.
Others grinned.
Those were the former slaves who had followed Hidolf from the beginning. They had slaughtered masters with their own hands. To them, slavers were not demons, but vermin that screamed when cut.
Among the fifty knights, the mood was singular.
Not fear. Anticipation.
Their deeds today would decide how much land they would claim once the war was done.
Across the water, aboard the flagship, Recharino watched Drakoncrest grow larger.
His chest was tight with tension. This was a wager of everything.
If a dragonrider was stationed here, the Triarchy's cause would collapse, forcing a retreat to the Disputed Lands.
When only a few miles remained, she let out a long breath.
The intelligence was true. Aegon Targaryen had taken all the dragons with him. No dragonrider guarded the Stepstones.
He straightened, steel plates of her armor catching the light.
"Signal the fleet," he said, voice sharp with excitement. "Full speed ahead."
Horns and drums answered at once. The Triarchy's combined fleet surged forward.
Recharino gestured again. "Myr and Lys in the vanguard."
Let them bleed first.
The drums quickened. Oars churned. Sails snapped taut.
"For Tyrosh!" Recharino shouted, raising her sword.
A shadow swept across the deck.
A roar split the sky.
Recharino's blood ran cold. He threw up an arm, squinting into the sun, and saw gold descending from the clouds.
"Dragon!" someone screamed.
She did not hesitate.
Recharino leapt into the sea as dragonflame followed, a torrent of molten gold that ripped her flagship apart in a heartbeat.
Sunfyre needed no rider.
His intelligence alone was enough.
Semi-liquid flame poured from his jaws, reaching farther than any common fire, striking with devastating force. Great ships shattered like kindling when touched by it.
Above the fleet, Sunfyre raged.
The Tyroshi tried to respond, but there was no pattern to his attack. He was everywhere at once. Worse still, many ships carried trebuchets rather than dragon-bolts.
Recharino surfaced, gasping, and clawed his way toward a smaller vessel. he tried again and again to regain command, but each time another ship vanished in fire.
Sunfyre struck only the largest targets, reducing them to wreckage with terrifying efficiency.
At last,he she hauled herself aboard a skiff.
Her eyes were bloodshot as she watched the fleet die.
He had known this was a gamble.
Even so, when total defeat arrived, it was unbearable all the same.
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A/N:
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