King's Landing.
The Red Keep, the King's Chambers.
Viserys leisurely fiddled with the stone figurines on the table, occasionally smiling knowingly.
Knock! There was a knock on the door, and Otto Hightower demanded an audience.
"Come in!" Viserys, engrossed in his play, was irritable.
Creak! Otto strode in, his expression grave. "Your Majesty, Daemon has ascended the throne in Lys."
Viserys froze.
"Daemon and the Sea Serpent have formed an alliance to establish the Order of the Two Cities," Otto exclaimed indignantly.
Crack! The dragon-shaped stone figurine fell to the ground and shattered.
Viserys's eyes were blank, and he instinctively held his forehead. The amount of information was overwhelming, so he paused.
"Your Majesty, we have no way out," Otto urged gravely. The Order of the Two Cities, formed by two ambitious men with dragons, was far more dangerous than the Triarchy and Dorne combined. No other power could rival it.
A moment later, Viserys leaned on the table with both hands and took deep breaths repeatedly. He was furious; his brain had almost stopped thinking. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel chills run down his spine. The authority of the Iron Throne was being challenged.
"Damn Daemon!" Viserys slammed the table and cursed angrily.
"Your Majesty, you must face this crisis head on," Otto urged.
Viserys remained silent, slowly closing his eyes. No one could understand his emotions at that moment: Shock and anger. Of course, there was also a hint of relief. By listening to his nephew's advice, he had taken the initiative to attack Myr. If he conquered Myr, he could still control the lower half of the Narrow Sea. Otherwise, Daemon and the Sea Serpent would pin him down.
Otto looked at the king with complicated eyes, hoping he would cheer up.
"Block the news and don't spread it yet." Viserys finally spoke.
"Should we gather an army?" Otto asked cautiously.
"Wait a moment." Viserys shook his head and said calmly, "The Sea Serpent and Daemon will not come to King's Landing. Let's wait and see how the battle in Myr unfolds."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Otto replied solemnly.
Bang! The door closed, leaving only one person in the chamber. Viserys bent over to pick up the broken stone figurine and stared blankly at the blue sky and white clouds outside the window. He felt a deep sense of powerlessness. The royal family did not have enough strength to conquer Daemon and the Sea Serpent. Moreover, he was very worried about his nephew, Aemon. Myr was very powerful. Would they be in danger?
The scene changed.
"Hiss—"
"Hiss!"
Six majestic dragons circled above Myr, a utopia. They were different colors and sizes. Together, they formed an intimidating dragon swarm.
Myr Bay was the harbor. Nearly two hundred large ships advanced into the bay with unstoppable force, overcoming the poorly prepared harbor defenses.
At that moment, in the Grand Arena, seven Myr governors and a dozen slave owners, each accompanied by their slaves, hid in the aisles of the auditorium.
"Damn it! Why are there dragons in the sky?!" a terrified governor exclaimed.
Half an hour ago, they had been holding slave competitions. It was a way for the governors, with the Myr regime split into two factions, to vent their frustrations. They sent each other's slaves to the arena for entertainment. The first duel pitted a slave fighter against a bear that had been starved for three days. The bear was undoubtedly full. The second duel involved fifty men, including the elderly, the weak, women, and children. Each side fought until only ten men remained.
Halfway through the fight, a thunderous dragon roar echoed throughout the city.
"Dragon, here we come!" A sharp whistle blew, signaling the arrival of the city guard.
"Hurry, hurry!" The purple-bearded governor, overjoyed, dragged his slave soldiers along and fled.
Boom! Suddenly, a dark cloud enveloped the entire arena.
"Dragon flame, Meleys!" Rhaenys, wearing red armor, gave indifferent orders.
"Hiss!" Meleys fell from the sky like red lightning. Red dragon flames gushed out like a waterfall, covering the heads of the three thousand garrisons.
"Ah!"
"It's on fire! Save me!"
..."
The garrison suffered heavy losses in an instant, and screams echoed through the inner city.
"Kill them all!" Aemon glanced at him without mercy. The termites of this city-state will be crushed to death today.
"Attack, Syrax!" Rhaenys shouted crisply.
"Hiss!" Syrax roared, flying through the streets and alleys and spewing thick golden dragon flames along the way. The flames swept through, blocking the garrison's retreat.
"Fight back quickly! Use bows and crossbows!" Someone raised a three-shot crossbow, attempting to slay the dragon.
Boom! The next second, a crimson fireball over a meter in diameter slammed precisely into the arena.
"Hiss!" Grey Ghost cackled, mocking the clumsy humans.
Boom! Vermithor, Silverwing, and Vhagar—three massive dragons—coordinated their breath of dragonfire, demonstrating the very essence of disaster. Flames erupted and thick smoke billowed. The garrison and the slave soldiers were instantly engulfed in flames.
"Gods!" A Myr governor slumped to his knees, his defenses completely broken. It wasn't just one dragon; it wasn't even two. It was a swarm!
The dragons swarmed out, soaring toward Myr.
"Escape!" Terrified, the other governors and slave owners of Myr gathered their slave soldiers, preparing to evacuate the Colosseum.
Suddenly, a flag bearing a black rose on a white background was raised above the audience. Like a signal, merchants, bankers, and landowners waved handkerchiefs emblazoned with black roses.
"Don't let the slavers escape!" Cole and the others rushed out of the crowd.
"Aemon the Shacklebreaker has arrived! Down with the abominable slavers!" someone suddenly shouted, rallying the slaves.
The slaves in the field shuddered. They were elderly, weak, women, and children, all huddled in corners. With a clang, a figure emerged, cutting the locks off the slave dungeons with a sword. The figure held aloft a linen cloth painted with black roses and shouted, "Kill all the slavers!"
The young male slaves imprisoned in the dungeons witnessed this scene, and their blood surged with passion. They had just witnessed the brutal fight. No one is born to be a slave and be treated like a pig or a dog.
A month ago, news spread among the slaves. Far away in Slaver's Bay, Astapor, and Ghis had been liberated. All the slaves had been freed and had become "proud fair men." Could they be liberated today?
"Charge!" someone shouted. They pushed aside those around them and rushed out of the dungeons. They picked up weapons from the arena and chopped down the bewildered guards.
In an instant, the entire slave community boiled with excitement.
"Fight for freedom!" someone shouted as they rushed out of the dungeon one after another. They killed the few remaining guards, took their weapons, and charged into the audience. They hacked the fleeing Myr governors and slave owners to death. Those who waved the Black Rose flag were spared and given weapons.
The same scene played out throughout Myr, even in the most prosperous inner city. Many mansions and estates raised the Black Rose flag. Aemon overlooked these mansions and drove Vermithor away from them. Those were the people Johanna had secretly recruited. Subjugating them would allow for a swift takeover of the city-state.
Boom! Suddenly, the harbor exploded, sending forth a plume of green flames resembling smoke and mist. It was wildfire, developed by the pyromancers. With its powerful detonation, the harbor's defenses collapsed instantly. A gaping hole was blasted through the White Wall, creating the perfect shortcut for a siege.
"Shh!" Aemon's dragon arrived. Vermithor circled the wildfire filling the sky and unleashed a blast of dragonfire at the breach. The flames, as bright as copper foil, descended and engulfed the green wildfire. The breach was left with a mottled gray-black residue, but it was still passable.
"Unsullied, charge!" Grey Worm shouted, hurling a spear that struck a fleeing defender in the head.
Thuds! Five thousand Unsullied soldiers formed a square and led the charge into the outer city. The Second Sons, the Knights of the Vale, and the Royal Navy successively landed and joined the indestructible Unsullied army for the invasion.
"Next stop, Vermithor!" Aemon growled, curling up his lips. He knew the war was won.
"Hiss!" Silverwing flew by, chirping joyfully as they circled above the Unsullied. Even the docile female dragons were excited by the smell of gunpowder.
The unrest lasted a day and a night.
On the third day, five thousand Unsullied took over the city defenses and split into small teams to patrol the streets. Three thousand Second Sons manned the city gates to prevent other forces from exploiting the situation. Two thousand Gulltown sailors and five thousand Royal Fleet troops blockaded Myr Bay and protected the harbor. Meanwhile, twelve thousand Vale allies and three thousand Royal Army troops freed all the slaves and broke into the homes of the governors and slave owners.
Under the iron fist of Aemon and his vassals, everything was managed with perfect order. The harbor and Green Grass Square were bustling.
Myr's largest square, it was now densely packed with people. The crowd gazed up at a high wooden platform. Aemon stood on it, receiving a report.
"Your Majesty, Myr's population exceeds two million," Johanna respectfully reported. "Three hundred thousand civilians and one and a half million slaves." In the disputed lands outside the city, vast farms and estates secretly housed nearly two hundred thousand serfs. The ratio of civilians to slaves reached a staggering one-fifth.
"The population of Myr is equal to that of the North," Aemon marveled. In his great-grandfather's time, the maesters of the Citadel had estimated the population of Westeros. King's Landing was the most densely populated city, with over half a million residents year-round. They estimated the total population of Westeros at around thirty million, half of which lived in the Crownlands, the Riverlands, and the Reach. This was enough to astound the world and extol his great-grandfather's achievements. Who would have thought that a single city could have a population comparable to that of an entire region? The disparity between the two sides of the Narrow Sea was enormous.
Johanna then gave a brief report on the financial situation. Nearly ten million gold royals were confiscated from the homes of governors and slave owners. Merchants, bankers, and manor owners who surrendered kept their property but voluntarily surrendered all their slaves. Aemon was in high spirits. Of the forty large ships he had brought back from Slaver's Bay, most were loaded with silk, spices, and other goods that would be difficult to sell in the short term. This money relieved the urgent need for governance.
"Your Majesty, everyone is here." Koen of the Runeguard and Eryk of the Kingsguard arrived together.
"Thank you for your hard work, Ser," Aemon said, especially to the latter. Under Alicent's orders, the Cargyll brothers had been carrying out a mission hidden among the slaves in the Colosseum. They were instrumental in quelling the slave rebellion.
"It's my duty," Eryk replied gravely.
Aemon nodded and scanned the dense crowd in the square. There were the wealthy, commoners, and even more slaves who had been freed from their chains. At a glance, there were no fewer than a hundred thousand people. They were spectators watching the execution and representatives of the people of Myr.
Aemon turned. Laena and Rhaenyra stood side by side behind him, each with a one-handed sword at her waist. Aunt Rhaenys stood nearby. Their eyes met, and she gave him an encouraging look.
"Hiss!"
"Hiss..."
A pale silver dragon swooped across the square and landed slowly on a tall tower. Behind it came a majestic scarlet dragon and a young topaz-colored female dragon. Meleys and Syrax circled the sky with energy, flying slowly and leisurely. If one were to observe closely, one would see the occasional flicker of a pale, grayish-white dragon among the drifting white clouds.
The dragons danced together, symbolizing a new era of peace after victory. Thousands of Myrians admired the spectacle, captivated by the irresistible beauty of the dragons. They were not afraid. The dragons burned part of the city but killed the foolish governors and greedy slave owners. The surrendered rulers and common slaves were unaffected. Everyone realized one thing: Myr had a new master.
Suddenly, the rich, time-worn sound of a horn echoed through the air. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound. Aemon stood tall and blew an ancient, bronze-inlaid horn.
The next moment, somewhere in the city-state, two dragon roars—one deep, one high—echoed simultaneously. The clamor ceased abruptly, and the square fell silent. The only sounds were the horns and the roaring dragons.
Soon, Aemon lowered his warhorn. Koen of the Runeguard strode out, his voice booming: "You stand before Aemon of House Targaryen, 'Bronze and Fireborn,' Lord of the Vale and the Stepstones, Regent and Protector of the Realm, Dragonslayer, Breaker of Chains, and Knight of the Dragon."
As these words fell, the expressions of most people shifted slightly. A strange sense of respect and admiration permeated them. Such a long list of titles was a sight to behold. Aemon's face remained expressionless, but he couldn't help but smile. Besides the "Knight of the Dragon," a hidden honor he had bestowed upon himself denoting his training in the Binding Charm, his title was already comparable to that of the Mother of Dragons of later generations.
"Your Majesty, please!" Koen bowed and withdrew. His throat was dry from speaking so much.
Grey Worm stepped forward and led the Unsullied in bringing several captured governors and slave owners to the front of the stage.
Wow!
Thousands of eyes fixed on those bewildered faces. Aemon swiftly unsheathed the Lady of the Void and shouted, "People of Myr! Today, I declare slavery abolished!"
With that, the Lady of the Void swung, emitting a flash of black light.
Puff!
A governor's head flew off, blood gushing from his neck like a fountain.
"From now on, the people of Myr will live under the rule of the Dragon Lord in a truly free trading city!" Aemon raised his hands, his voice resounding.
"Hiss—" Vermithor's massive body soared high into the air in response, spewing a stream of searing dragonfire.
Boom! Vhagar flew out from another part of the city, his bloody maw open and roaring. In an instant, the dragons that had landed took flight. Six dragons circled in the air, forming a massive disk. Vermithor stood in the center with his broad brown wings spread out, blocking the sun and shrouding most of the city.
Thousands of eyes gazed skyward, stunned.
"Kill!" Aemon commanded.
The Unsullied thrust their spears through the chests of the kneeling governors and slaveholders. This was both a threat and a break with the old order.
"Dragonlord!" the formerly oppressed slaves cried out, tears welling in their eyes. As each slaveholder was tortured, their cries surged like a tidal wave.
"Dragonlord!"
"Slave Liberator!"
"King of Myr..."
Aemon closed his eyes, listening to the deafening roar. Laena and Rhaenyra came to his side, resting their hands on his arms. The former tilted her head slightly and leaned into his embrace. The latter smiled and tapped the ground with the "Light of the Realm." In that moment, he was a conqueror.
Rhaenys watched silently, her violet eyes flickering. In a trance, she seemed to see the three Conqueror siblings.
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