Chapter 22 – Envoys of Fire and Iron
"A crown is not enough. You must make men kneel to it."– High Envoy Kaldris of Norvos
🌍 World State Update
📜 Valyrian Freehold: Fractured, regional holds declaring independence
🏰 House Vórenyx: Ascendant – controls Flamehold and the Embershore Isles
🌊 Westeros: Rumors of a Dragon King spread among seafaring lords
🐉 Dragon Count: 2 (Ashryn & Vaerax)
🧠 Political Intrigue Level: HIGH
🎯 Main Quest: "Embers of Empire"
– Objective: Send Envoys to Westeros– Sub-Goals: Forge at least one Noble Pact, Acquire Political Leverage, Avoid Naval Conflict
I. The Crown's Weight
The flames in the obsidian hearth danced with blue tongues—a sign that the old gods were listening.
Vaeron stood alone in his sanctum, adorned now with the twin symbols of his new kingdom: the flaming wyvern of Vórenyx, and the Blacksteel Crown forged from the melted weapons of his enemies.
His armor had been reforged too—Valyrian steel woven with shadowglass and dragonbone, its crimson glint like dried blood under moonlight.
Yet it wasn't the steel that weighed him.
It was decision.
Peace must be bought, not declared. The Doom had wiped out half the continent, but ambition thrived like fungus in shadowed corners.
He turned to the map, fingers tracing the western sea routes. One name burned brighter than the rest.
Westeros.
Mylara entered, armored in dark red, her daggers strapped across her thigh and back.
"The ships are ready. Two for Oldtown, one for Dragonstone. I'll lead the mission to Dorne. Ser Druvos will take the Reach."
"And you trust them?" Vaeron asked.
"No," she said without hesitation. "But we're not asking them to love us. Just to fear us less than they fear what comes after the Doom."
II. A Storm Over Sunspear
System Notification: Quest Branch Initiated – "Sand and Shadow"
Objective: Secure Trade & Military Alliance with DorneConditions:– Win Favor of Ruling Prince– Survive Political Intrigue– Use Dragonflight Sparingly to Avoid Provocation
The Dornish coast shimmered like bronze in the heat. Mylara's ship—a sleek cutter named The Emberwing—slipped into Sunspear's harbor under the rising sun.
Waiting for her was Prince Rhaenor Martell, young, sharp-eyed, and surrounded by spearmen in polished copper scale.
"Another dragonlord," he said, inspecting her Valyrian armor with obvious amusement. "Let's hope you're not as arrogant as the last ones."
Mylara smiled, bowing low. "I carry fire, not chains."
The court of Sunspear was unlike any other she had seen—half war camp, half palace, with courtyards draped in colored silks and filled with whispered laughter.
But not everyone welcomed her.
The Lady Serenya, cousin to the prince, eyed Mylara with quiet venom.
"You come with dragons and say you bring peace. You're either a liar—or a fool."
Over the next weeks, Mylara had to navigate poisoned wine, veiled threats, and a failed seduction meant to blackmail her.
She turned all of it back on them.
When assassins tried to enter her quarters, she let them in—then calmly slit their throats one by one, and left their bodies on the sand with a note:
"I am no fool.And I am worse than a liar."
By week's end, Prince Rhaenor invited her to dine privately and offered a sealed treaty:
Dorne would open its ports to Flamehold trade
In return, Vaeron would share drakescale armor with Dorne's royal guards
And if war came from the East—Dorne would ride with fire
III. Whispers in the Reach
Ser Druvos, former sellsword and now Flamehold's Marshall, had landed at Oldtown.
There, he found a different battle: words, wine, and slow poison.
The Hightowers were rebuilding after the Doom had cracked their harbor and swallowed half their fleet. But now they looked eastward, fearing pirates and dragons.
Druvos entered the citadel, meeting with Maesters who pored over scrolls speaking of "the Flame Tyrant" in hushed tones.
He found unexpected aid in Maester Alon, a grey-bearded scholar obsessed with Valyrian magic.
"If you lend the Citadel access to your magical vaults," Alon said, "I will speak for your lord."
Druvos agreed—and found, to his surprise, the old man's words carried more weight than swords.
The Hightowers agreed to neutrality and opened their harbors to Vaeron's ships.
IV. Dragonstone's Oath
The last envoy sailed not across a sea, but into history.
Vaeron himself flew to Dragonstone, upon Ashryn's wings.
There he found a crumbling fortress clinging to cliffs and a house barely surviving.
The Targaryens, exiled remnants, had heard of him.
They offered him cautious hospitality. But it was Lady Elenya Targaryen, young and fire-eyed, who asked the hard question.
"Are you kin to us, or just another flame that seeks to burn us?"
Vaeron answered honestly.
"We are the same fire. You just burned longer. But now, I burn hotter."
Their discussions were tense but respectful. He promised aid, artifacts, and protection. She offered him a Targaryen silver ring—an ancient sign of blood alliance.
With that, the pact was sealed.
V. Beneath the Ember Vault
Back at Flamehold, Mylara and Kaelor entered the sealed Ember Vaults. With the relics they'd gathered, they unlocked an ancient mechanism: a starmap projector of Old Valyria.
It revealed the final coordinates of the Dragonhold lost beneath the sea.
🎯 Side Quest Activated: "Vault of the First Flame"Location: Sunken Valyrian Hold (Submerged)Rewards: UnknownRisk: Extremely High (Environmental & Magical)
Mylara turned to Kaelor. "This could contain the secrets of how the dragonlords tamed magic itself."
"Or it could kill us all."
She smirked. "That's half the fun."
VI. The First Western Betrayal
But while the embers of alliance began to glow… not all hearts burned for peace.
A raven arrived from the Reach.
The Redwyne Fleet, under pressure from Myrish gold and whispers of Rhogar's hidden heir, attacked one of Vaeron's trade galleys. It was a test.
Vaeron answered.
He sent two ships, not with soldiers, but with chained crates—containing the heads of the pirate lords he'd killed in the Stepstones.
Attached was a letter, written in Valyrian runes, soaked in blood.
"There will not be a second warning.Only fire."
The Redwynes backed down. But the game had begun.
VII. A Throne Still Unclaimed
At Flamehold, the high flame priests conducted the Rite of Sovereign Flame. The people gathered. The dragons roared.
Vaeron stepped onto the platform carved of obsidian and meteorite.
Priests raised the sword Sorrowfang, forged from three slain dragonlords' blades, and placed the crown of flame-steel upon his head.
🏆 SYSTEM MILESTONE: Kingdom Founded – Emberhold Sovereignty
🎖 Title Gained: Dragonking of the Embershore
📈 Political Power Gained: +80% Respect / +60% Fear (Western Lords)
Mylara knelt beside him, whispering in his ear, "Now we have a throne."
"But the game," he whispered back, "is just beginning."
End of Chapter 22