The Second Departure from Meereen's Red Port
Meereen's Red Port glowed a dark red in the morning mist. Illyrio stood by the helm of the dragonflame, his fingertips tracing the newly nailed iron plating of the hull—this was a reinforcement he and his craftsmen had completed in three days. The edges of each iron plate were chiseled with saw-toothed grooves, designed to latch onto the bow of enemy warships during impact, increasing the defensive strength by 30% compared to the first departure. From below deck came the sounds of slave craftsmen moving barrels of wildfire. The outside of the barrels was marked with "Improved Formula" in charcoal—a ratio he had adjusted based on modern chemical knowledge, burning at twice the temperature of ordinary wildfire and not easily extinguished by seawater.
"Lord Illyrio, Tyrion is waiting for you in the cargo hold. He said he needs to verify the quantity of the last batch of dragonglass weapons." The voice of the Unsullied squad leader interrupted his thoughts. The dragon sigil on the officer's armor was covered in morning dew, and the manifest he held in his hand was densely packed with details of supplies. Illyrio nodded and turned to walk towards the cargo hold. The sea breeze lifted his red robe, revealing two items at his waist: one was a dragonglass dagger gifted by Daenerys, and the other was a tactical map of the Narrow Sea he had drawn himself. Three key reef areas requiring heightened vigilance were circled in red—these were navigation vulnerabilities he had added based on prisoner confessions after the last interception by the Golden Company.
Inside the cargo hold, Tyrion was pouring himself wine from a flask. On the wooden table in front of him lay three piles of weapons: to the left were sharpened dragonglass spears (two thousand in total, enough to equip half of the Unsullied), in the middle were short swords inlaid with dragonglass shards (for the Dothraki Riders), and to the right were several valyrian steel daggers—one of which had the House Stark Direwolf carved into its hilt, previously confiscated from a prisoner of House Bolton. Tyrion said, "Perhaps it can be given to someone from House Stark in the future."
"Can your 'flame-thrower nozzle' really be used in a Narrow Sea storm?" Tyrion shook his flask, the amber liquid swirling inside. "I've seen similar devices in King's Landing. Once they encounter waves, the wildfire easily backflows into the pipes. Then, instead of burning the enemy, you'll burn your own ship."
Illyrio picked up a dragonglass spear, his fingertips tracing the cold gleam of the spearhead: "I added a one-way valve at the end of the nozzle, made of copper, to prevent seawater from backflowing. And next to each nozzle, there's a sand bucket for extinguishing fires, so even if a fire does start, it can be put out within ten breaths." He paused, then pointed to "Snake Island Anchorage" on the tactical map. "We're not following the original route this time. We'll go to Snake Island first to rendezvous with Daenerys's vanguard—her messenger said there's someone in the vanguard who understands the Others in the North, and can provide us with crucial intelligence."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow and put down his flask: "Others? Those things that only appear in old nannies' stories? I thought Jon Snow was just trying to rally the Northern lords, is it real?"
"It's real." Illyrio's finger paused at the "The Wall" mark on the tactical map. "The intercepted Golden Company secret letter mentioned that Lannister scouts saw 'blue-eyed dead men' beyond The Wall. Cersei has secretly sent people to The Citadel to destroy related records, fearing panic." He picked up the valyrian steel dagger with the Direwolf sigil. "And Samwell Tarly's secret letter from The Citadel says that valyrian steel and dragonflame are the only ways to fight the Others—this dagger, perhaps, will soon come in handy."
The cargo hold door suddenly burst open, and Daenerys's personal handmaiden hurried in, looking urgent: "Lord Illyrio, Tyrion, the lookout has spotted a fleet approaching from the east, flying the Targaryen three-headed dragon banner! It should be Queen Daenerys's vanguard!"
Illyrio and Tyrion exchanged glances, then immediately rose and rushed to the deck. As soon as they stepped onto the deck, they saw the silhouettes of over a dozen warships appearing on the distant horizon. The dragon banners on their sails unfurled in the morning breeze, like clusters of burning flames. "Order the fleet to adjust formation, form a 'wedge formation,' leaving the central channel open for them to enter!" Illyrio shouted to the messenger beside him, simultaneously pulling out a monocular telescope from his embrace—a tool he had made himself with glass lenses from Pentos. It now clearly showed the flagship of the vanguard: a dragon's head cast in pig iron adorned the bow, soldiers in Night's Watch black stood on the deck, and there were also several Dothraki Riders in leather armor.
"Night's Watch?" Tyrion leaned in to look through the telescope. "It seems Jon Snow really has formed an alliance with Daenerys."
Illyrio said nothing, his gaze falling on a figure on the flagship's deck—it was a girl in a Night's Watch cloak, slender, with a short sword at her waist, standing on tiptoe, gazing at their fleet. Her movements were agile, like a wary little wolf. When she occasionally raised a hand to adjust her hair, he could see a string of rough wooden beads on her wrist, a common ornament for Northern girls.
"Interesting." Illyrio lowered the telescope, a slight curve on his lips. "Tyrion, do you think that girl might be the 'Stark child' mentioned in Samwell's letter?"
Tyrion smiled and took a sip of wine: "Whoever she is, as long as she can bring intelligence about the Others, she's our friend. But you need to be careful, people from House Stark are very 'stubborn,' especially the second Miss, Arya, who is said to be tougher than a boy. Don't let her short sword cut your face."
Illyrio didn't respond, his gaze returning to the approaching fleet. He knew this rendezvous was not just about supplementing forces, but also about exchanging intelligence—the threat of the Others was imminent, and Cersei's fleet was still patrolling the Narrow Sea. They had to quickly consolidate all their strength to gain a foothold upon reaching Westeros and join forces with Jon Snow's Northern army to collectively confront the coming winter.
2. First Encounter and Intelligence Exchange on the Bridge
An hour later, Daenerys's vanguard fleet slowly sailed into the channel next to the dragonflame. Illyrio stood on the bridge of the dragonflame, watching as the vanguard's flagship lowered its gangplank, and several figures walked across it—led by an Unsullied captain in golden armor, followed by a middle-aged man in Night's Watch black (later identified as Beric, an envoy sent by Jon), and finally, the girl he had seen through the telescope.
As the girl walked onto the bridge, Illyrio noticed her light footsteps, almost silent. Her right hand remained on the hilt of the sword at her waist, and her eyes scanned everyone on the deck with alert vigilance—an instinct developed from prolonged exposure to dangerous environments, very similar to his own state when he first transmigrated to this world.
"Lord Illyrio, Tyrion," Beric spoke first, his voice bearing the characteristic hoarseness of the Night's Watch, "I am an envoy of Lord Jon Snow, tasked with escorting Miss Arya Stark to rendezvous with Queen Daenerys's vanguard. This is Miss Arya Stark. She has just returned from Braavos and knows a lot of intelligence about the Others."
"Arya Stark?" Tyrion stepped forward, smiling and extending his hand. "I am Tyrion Lannister. I've long heard of the reputation of House Stark's second Miss—I hear you can defeat three strong men with a short sword, even more formidable than me, the 'Giant of Lannister.'"
Arya did not shake his hand, only nodded slightly, her gaze falling on Illyrio, or more precisely, on the dragonglass dagger at his waist: "Is the dagger at your waist made of dragonglass? Have you seen the Others?"
Her directness surprised Illyrio. He raised an eyebrow, drew the dragonglass dagger, and handed it over: "I have, but not in direct combat—last time outside Meereen, we encountered wights converted by the Others. This dagger can easily pierce their hearts. What about you? Have you seen the Others?"
Arya took the dagger, her fingertips tracing the cold surface of the dragonglass, her expression becoming serious: "In the forests of the North, I saw the Others kill Night's Watchmen. They are taller than men, their skin is like ice, and their eyes are blue. Ordinary swords cannot harm them; only valyrian steel and dragonglass can kill them." She paused, then drew her own short sword from her waist—its scabbard was rough leather, its hilt wrapped in cloth, and the exposed blade gleamed faintly silver. "This is 'needle,' made of valyrian steel. I've used it to kill wights."
Illyrio's eyes lit up. He had only learned about the Others from documents and prisoner confessions before, never having any actual combat experience, and Arya's experiences could perfectly verify his tactical conjectures. "What is the movement pattern of wights?" he pressed. "Do they act alone, or do they attack in groups? Do they have any obvious weaknesses, such as being afraid of fire?"
"They like to attack in groups, surging forward like a tide, and they don't feel pain. Even if they lose an arm or a leg, they can keep charging." Arya recalled the scene, her voice somewhat low. "They are afraid of fire; ordinary flames can temporarily drive them back, but cannot kill them. Only dragonflame can completely burn them to ashes." She looked at Illyrio. "You have dragons, right? Queen Daenerys's dragons can breathe dragonflame, that is the most effective weapon against the Others."
"Yes, Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion can all breathe dragonflame." Illyrio nodded, pulling out a piece of parchment from his embrace with sketches of Others and wights—drawn by him based on prisoner confessions. "But the number of dragons is too small. We need to formulate tactics to maximize the effect of dragonflame. For example, we can set up wildfire traps on the battlefield, first using wildfire to drive back the wights, and then having the dragons breathe dragonflame to ignite the traps, eliminating a large number of wights at once."
Arya looked at the sketches, a flicker of agreement in her eyes: "This method is feasible. Last time beyond The Wall, the Night's Watch used fire to burn wights, but there wasn't enough wildfire, and the wights quickly broke through the defenses. If there's enough wildfire, combined with dragonflame, it should be able to hold off their attack." She paused, then added, "Also, the leader of the Others is called the Night King. He can turn dead people into wights. As long as he is killed, the other wights will lose their ability to move. But the Night King is cunning, always hiding behind the wights, making him difficult to approach."
"The Night King?" Tyrion leaned over to look at the sketches. "Do you know how to kill him? With valyrian steel or dragonglass?"
"Either can work, but you must stab him in the heart." Arya's finger pointed to the Night King's heart on the sketch. "I heard Bran say that the Night King was created by the Children of the Forest using dragonglass, so dragonglass can kill him. valyrian steel contains components of dragonglass, so it can achieve the same effect."
Illyrio quickly jotted down this information on the parchment, the tactical framework in his mind becoming clearer and clearer. He knew that Arya's intelligence was crucial, not only confirming his previous conjectures but also supplementing key details—such as the Night King's weakness and the wights' movement patterns, all of which would help them formulate more precise countermeasures.
"Thank you, Miss Arya." Illyrio put away the parchment and took back the dragonglass dagger she handed him. "Your intelligence is very important to us. If it's convenient, during the rest of the voyage, I'd like to ask you to elaborate on the situation in the North, such as Lord Jon Snow's troop deployment and the defensive status of Winterfell."
Arya nodded, the wariness in her eyes lessening slightly, replaced by a hint of trust: "Alright. I also want to know how many forces your fleet has, and when you can reach the North—Sansa and Jon are still waiting for us in Winterfell, and the Others will soon cross The Wall."
3. Narrow Sea Storm and Tactical Integration
On the third day after departure, a storm suddenly swept across the Narrow Sea. The fierce wind howled over the sea, whipping up giant waves several meters high. The dragonflame swayed violently in the waves, and the wildfire barrels on the deck rolled everywhere. Several slave craftsmen were thrown to the ground, crying out in fright.
Lord Illyrio stood on the bridge, gripping the helm tightly, trying to keep the ship steady.
His clothes were already soaked with seawater, and his hair was plastered to his forehead, yet he dared not relax—he knew that this kind of storm was most likely to cause ships to collide or be wrecked on reefs, so he had to constantly monitor the movements of the surrounding fleet.
"Lord Illyrio! The 'freedom' on the left has been tilted by a huge wave!" the lookout's shout came from above.
Illyrio looked up and saw that the 'freedom' (a transport ship carrying five hundred Unsullied and a batch of dragonglass weapons) had tilted thirty degrees, and the soldiers on deck were desperately moving heavy objects to the other side of the ship, trying to restore its balance.
"Order the 'roar' and 'lightning' to go support! Secure the 'freedom' with ropes!" Illyrio ordered loudly, and at the same time said to the messenger beside him, "Let Miss Arya go to the cargo hold to help; she is familiar with moving in confined spaces and can help secure the flame-thrower nozzles!"
The messenger took the order and ran down the bridge.
Illyrio continued to command the fleet to adjust its formation, arranging the warships in a circle to protect the transport ships in the middle, reducing the impact of the waves on them.
The strong wind cut at his face like a knife, the waves constantly crashed against the bridge, and the cold seawater flowed down his collar, but it did not affect his judgment at all—he knew that the more critical the moment, the calmer he had to be, otherwise the situation would only get worse.
Half an hour later, the storm gradually weakened.
Illyrio wiped the seawater from his face and looked at the 'freedom' on the left—with the support of 'roar' and 'lightning', the 'freedom' had regained its balance, and the soldiers on deck were clearing up scattered supplies.
He breathed a sigh of relief, and just as he was about to order an inventory of the losses, he saw Arya walk out of the cargo hold, her clothes covered in dust and oil, but with a hint of excitement on her face.
"All the flame-thrower nozzles in the cargo hold are secured; not one was knocked over," Arya walked up to Illyrio and handed him a dry cloth.
"Your ship is very sturdy; any other ship would have been smashed by the huge waves long ago."
Illyrio took the dry cloth, wiped his face, and smiled: "It's the work of the craftsmen; they reinforced the planks very well.
By the way, you didn't encounter any danger in the cargo hold just now, did you?"
"No," Arya shook her head, "I used the method you taught me to tie the ropes to the beams and move along the ropes; it was much safer than on deck."
She paused and added, "But I found that the flame-thrower nozzles in the cargo hold are not placed very reasonably.
If we encounter another storm, there is still a risk of them being knocked over.
I think we can divide the flame-thrower nozzles into two rows, leave a passage in the middle, and fix the barrels with wooden planks, so that even if the ship tilts, the flame-thrower nozzles will not roll."
Illyrio's eyes lit up.
He had only considered using ropes to secure them before, but had not thought of the method of arranging them in rows—Arya's practical experience just made up for his shortcomings.
"You're right," he immediately said to the Unsullied squad leader beside him, "Order all transport ships to rearrange the flame-thrower nozzles according to Miss Arya's method, fix the barrels with wooden planks, and make sure to complete it before dark."
Over the next two days, Illyrio and Arya began frequent tactical drills.
During the day, they practiced tactics against wights on deck: Illyrio taught the Unsullied how to set up oil traps and how to coordinate dragonflame attacks; Arya taught the soldiers how to stab wights with valyrian steel and dragonglass weapons, and how to protect themselves on a chaotic battlefield.
Once, while they were practicing the "oil trap + dragonflame" tactic, Arya suddenly proposed an improvement: "We can add some dragonglass powder to the oil trap, so that when it ignites, the flames will carry dragonglass fragments, which can not only burn wights but also prevent the Others from reanimating them."
Illyrio immediately adopted this suggestion, having craftsmen grind dragonglass into powder and mix it into the oil.
During the test, the ignited oil indeed emitted green flames, mixed with tiny dragonglass fragments, which could easily pierce wooden planks when they landed—the effect on wights would be unimaginable.
"You have a great talent for tactics," Illyrio said to Arya, looking at the green flames, "better than many generals who have fought in wars."
Arya lowered her head shyly, her fingers caressing the hilt of needle: "I just learned some survival skills while on the run; it's not really a tactical talent."
She paused, then looked up at the northern horizon, "I just hope these tactics are useful, that they can save Winterfell and the people of the North."
Illyrio looked at her determined eyes, and suddenly felt a stir in his heart.
He thought of his original intention when he transmigrated to this world, which was just to survive, but he never expected to be involved in so many disputes, and to fight to protect the people of this world.
And Arya, a teenage girl, who had experienced the pain of losing her family, still hadn't given up hope, and was still fighting for her family and for the North—this kind of courage was more precious than any tactic.
"It will be useful," Illyrio said softly.
"We have dragons, we have dragonglass, we have valyrian steel, and we have brave people like you.
As long as we stand together, we will surely defeat the Others, save the North, and save everyone we want to protect."
Arya looked at him, her eyes filled with trust.
She knew that Illyrio was not comforting her, but truly had confidence—his gaze was firm, like the snow-capped mountains of the North, unshakeable no matter how great the storm.
Four, Lannister Scout Ship and News from Winterfell
On the fifth day after setting sail, the lookout suddenly spotted an unfamiliar warship.
Illyrio observed it with a telescope, and his expression became solemn—it was a Lannister scout ship, with a golden lion emblem on its sail, and a dozen soldiers in red armor standing on deck, holding crossbows, heading towards their fleet.
"It's Cersei's people," Illyrio put down the telescope and said to Tyrion beside him.
"They should be here to scout our fleet size and route; we can't let them go back and report."
Tyrion nodded, took a sip of wine: "Order 'roar' and 'lightning' to attack, sink their ship, and leave no survivors."
"Wait," Arya suddenly spoke, "I have a better idea.
We can pretend not to have discovered them, let them get close, then use the 'flame-thrower nozzle' to burn their sails, trap them at sea, and then send people to board and capture them, to find out the movements of Cersei's fleet from their mouths."
Illyrio's eyes lit up.
This method could not only avoid alerting the enemy but also obtain intelligence, which was more advantageous than directly sinking them.
"Do as you say," he immediately ordered, "All warships retract their weapons, pretend to be sailing normally, 'roar' and 'lightning' quietly circle to both sides of the scout ship, ready to attack their sails with the 'flame-thrower nozzle'."
The Lannister scout ship indeed had no suspicions and continued to sail towards their fleet.
When the distance was only a hundred paces, Illyrio shouted: "Act!"
The "flame-thrower nozzles" on "roar" and "lightning" simultaneously spewed out blazing oil, like two fiery snakes, accurately hitting the scout ship's sails.
The sails instantly caught fire, black smoke billowed into the sky, and the Lannister soldiers panicked, some jumping into the sea, others trying to put out the fire with wooden barrels, but it was all in vain.
"Board!" Illyrio ordered.
Unsullied soldiers quickly approached the scout ship in small boats, wielding dragonglass spears as they boarded the deck.
Although the Lannister soldiers resisted stubbornly, they were no match for the Unsullied and were quickly all captured.
Arya followed Illyrio onto the scout ship and saw a person in black robes among the captives—he had a Lannister lion emblem pinned to his chest and held a scroll of parchment, evidently a messenger.
"The parchment in his hand must contain intelligence," Arya said to Illyrio, simultaneously drawing needle and pointing it at the messenger, "Hand over the paper, or I will pierce your heart with this valyrian steel sword."
The messenger trembled with fear and immediately handed over the parchment.
Illyrio took the parchment, unfolded it, and his expression became even more solemn—it contained Cersei's orders: to have the Lannister fleet ambush in Blackwater Bay, and when their fleet arrived, to destroy all warships with wildfire; at the same time, the remaining forces of House Bolton were to launch a rebellion in the North, attempting to tie down Jon Snow's army and prevent him from meeting Daenerys's army.
"The remaining forces of House Bolton have rebelled?" Arya's face instantly turned pale, "Sansa is still in Winterfell; will she be in danger?"
"Don't worry," Illyrio quickly comforted her, "Lord Jon Snow will surely quell the rebellion.
And our fleet is not far from Westeros; we can reach Dragonstone in at most three days, and then we can send an elite force to Winterfell to support them."
He paused and said to Tyrion, "We need to speed up; we must reach Dragonstone before Cersei's fleet completes its ambush, otherwise the consequences will be unimaginable."
Tyrion nodded and put away his flask: "I will have the craftsmen speed up the repair of the warships to ensure the fleet can sail at maximum speed.
In addition, we can send a fast ship to notify Her Majesty Daenerys's main force to also speed up and rendezvous with us at Dragonstone."
Over the next two days, the fleet sailed towards Westeros at maximum speed.
Illyrio and Arya discussed tactics on the bridge every day, adjusting their plans according to the latest intelligence—they decided that after arriving at Dragonstone, they would first send an elite force composed of Unsullied and Dothraki Riders, carrying dragonglass weapons and oil, to Winterfell to support Jon and Sansa; at the same time, the main fleet would remain at Dragonstone, preparing to deal with Cersei's fleet attack.
On the morning of the seventh day after setting sail, the lookout suddenly shouted: "Land sighted! It's Dragonstone!"
Illyrio and Arya simultaneously ran to the edge of the deck and looked in the direction the lookout was pointing—in the distance on the horizon, a black island gradually appeared, and the castle on the island stood like a huge black dragon on the cliffside; that was the old home of the Targaryen Family, Dragonstone.
"We've arrived," Illyrio said softly, his eyes filled with determination.
Arya looked at the outline of Dragonstone, gripped needle tightly in her hand, and silently recited: "Jon, Sansa, I'm coming.
We'll see each other soon, and soon we'll fight the Others together, and take back our home together."
The soldiers on deck erupted in cheers.
Illyrio knew that this was only the first step of their journey, and more arduous tasks awaited them—fighting Cersei's fleet, quelling the rebellion in the North, and defeating the approaching Others.
But he was not afraid, because he had strategists like Tyrion by his side, warriors like Arya, and allies like Daenerys and Jon.
He turned to Arya and said with a smile: "Are you ready to go to Winterfell? Your family is waiting for you."
Arya nodded, tears glistening in her eyes, but with immense determination: "I'm ready.
I've been waiting for this day for a long time."
The outline of Dragonstone became clearer and clearer, and the sun shone on the black castle, casting a golden glow.
Illyrio knew that a war that would decide the fate of Westeros was about to begin, and they would be the protagonists of this war, guarding the hope of this world with dragonflame and swords.