The tension in the Gevas village square was a palpable thing, thick and heavy. Captain Dario, a man accustomed to the clear lines of military command, found himself facing an enigma. A silver-haired lord with purple eyes, a direwolf at his heels, a colossal black dragon circling overhead, and a horde of Dothraki at his back. This was no mere bandit king; this was something out of legend.
Maegor's words, laced with Draconic Persuasion and underscored by the terrifying reality of his power, hung in the air: Resist, and burn. Submit, and prosper.
Captain Dario looked from Maegor's unyielding gaze to the thousands of silent Dothraki, then to the disciplined ranks of the Royal Guard. He thought of his villagers, their terrified faces peering from windows, their lives in his hands. He was a soldier, but he was not a fool. To fight here, to resist this, was madness. It would be a slaughter, a useless, bloody sacrifice.
Slowly, deliberately, Captain Dario unbuckled his sword belt. With a heavy sigh, he let his sword clatter to the dusty ground, a sound that seemed shockingly loud in the profound silence. He sank to one knee, lowering his head in a gesture of absolute submission.
"My lord," Dario's voice was rough, edged with a bitter resignation, "Gevas submits. We swear fealty to you, Maegor Targaryen. Our lives, our lands, our loyalty are yours. Do not bring fire to our homes."
Maegor allowed a cold, satisfied smile to touch his lips. This was precisely the outcome he desired. Blood was a cost; submission was an asset.
"Rise, Captain Dario," Maegor commanded, his voice now softened, yet still firm. "You have made a wise choice. A choice that serves your people, and your own life." He gestured around the village. "Gevas will prosper under my protection. You, Captain Dario, will not merely remain. You will be elevated. I name you Master of Gevas. You will govern this village under my authority. Your word will be law, as long as it aligns with mine. And for your wisdom and timely fealty, I grant you a unique privilege: your post will be hereditary. Your family will inherit your position, generation after generation, so long as they do not betray the Dragon."
Dario's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock, then dawning awe. Hereditary rule? For a mere village captain? It was a boon beyond anything he could have dreamed. His bitter resignation dissolved, replaced by a surge of fierce, personal loyalty. Maegor had not just spared him; he had given him a dynasty.
"My King!" Dario exclaimed, bowing deeper, his voice ringing with genuine fealty. "I swear it! My family and I will serve the Dragon to our last breath! No betrayal, ever!"
"Good," Maegor affirmed, satisfied with the genuine fervor. "Now, Master Dario, tell me of Gevas. Give me a census. Tell me of your people, their skills, your resources. Tell me of your military standing." He pulled out a fresh parchment and quill from his saddlebag, handing it to Ser Kaeto, who prepared to record Dario's report.
Dario, eager to demonstrate his loyalty, immediately began. "My King, Gevas is a humble village, but resilient. Our census is approximately seven hundred souls in total. Of those, perhaps one hundred and fifty are able-bodied men capable of bearing arms, though only fifty are truly trained as town guards. The rest are mostly farmers, fishermen, and a few dozen skilled craftsmen."
He continued, detailing the village's specialties: "Our main strength, my King, lies in our fisheries. The river here is rich with fish, and we have access to the sea. We produce good catches, which we trade with other villages and, at times, with merchant ships passing through. We also have skilled net-makers and boatwrights, capable of building and repairing smaller vessels. Our farmlands, though not as extensive as Myrosh, yield decent crops of barley and root vegetables."
Regarding their military prowess, Dario was brutally honest. "Our fifty guards, my King, are mostly armed with spears and leather armor. We have a small store of bows, perhaps twenty. Our purpose has always been to deter bandits and ensure order, not to fight armies. We have little experience with true warfare."
Maegor listened intently, comparing Dario's report with the System's intelligence. It largely matched, confirming the detailed accuracy of his acquired knowledge. He nodded, pleased.
"Your information is noted, Master Dario," Maegor concluded. "Your fisheries will be vital for feeding my growing forces. Your boatwrights will be put to use. And your men will learn new ways of fighting under the training of my Royal Guard. You have done well. Now, ensure your people understand. My rule brings order, protection, and prosperity. Any who resist, or harbor disloyalties, will face the consequences."
He left a small contingent of Myrosh Castle Guards to assist Dario in consolidating his authority, to ensure compliance, and to begin the subtle integration of Gevas into his burgeoning domain.
As Maegor turned his Sand Steed eastward, towards the next target on his map, he felt the hum of the System. He had secured his first village through diplomacy backed by overwhelming force. The process was efficient, the results undeniable. He was not just conquering lands; he was building a kingdom, one submission, one census, one strategic appointment at a time. The shadow of the Dragon was lengthening over Myrosh, promising both fire and unwavering rule.