The tallest tower on Dragonstone was the Sea Dragon Tower. This was where the maesters resided.
But now, Willem had the place tightly sealed off.
Inside the Sea Dragon Tower were Queen Mother Rhaella, Elia, and Lyanna. They each held a spyglass, trying to make out the details of the battlefield.
Unfortunately, the distance was too great—they could only barely discern the faint outlines of blue and black sails.
As for the finer details of the battle, they couldn't see a thing.
"Don't worry, Your Grace. His Majesty Viserys will be fine. The three Kingsguard are with him—there's no one stronger than them." Lyanna tried to comfort the other two. Rhaella lowered her spyglass and nodded slightly.
......
On the battlefield, Arthur Dayne, clad in a white cloak, was like a whirlwind of pale light.
The moment he landed on the enemy ship, he cut through it from bow to stern in the blink of an eye. The soldiers of the Redwyne fleet feared not only his skill, but also his name.
The Targaryen soldiers following Arthur were equally ferocious.
To them, the men on the enemy ships weren't foes—they were walking gold coins.
From above, it looked as if Arthur and his men were acting like the piston of a syringe, pressing Redwyne's soldiers down into the sea.
Some soldiers, panicking, tried to jump ship and flee, but the fast ships surrounding them had already sealed off all escape routes.
Davos tried to steer his ship away, but the Targaryen fleet had blocked every path. For a moment, the man known as the Onion Knight prepared himself for a desperate fight.
But the looks in the eyes of the Targaryen soldiers—they were like ravenous beasts.
Their eyes were bloodshot, gleaming with hunger.
And that made his blood run cold.
"The Sword of the Morning!"
"It's the Sword of the Morning!"
When the men on the ship finally realized Arthur Dayne was among them, they lost the last bit of their fighting spirit.
Davos looked back at his eldest and second sons, who had come to war with him—both were so terrified they could barely hold their swords.
.........
[Redwyne fleet repelled]
[Participation: 75%]
[Reward earned: Veterans (archers) x454, Veterans (infantry) x522, Elites (archers) x322, Elites (infantry) x122]
The outcome of this battle had exceeded all expectations. Around forty enemy ships were either sunk or captured.
Roughly three thousand enemy troops were killed or taken prisoner.
On the Targaryen side, only two to three hundred men were lost. Four ships were sunk, seven damaged and in need of repair. A ten-to-one kill ratio—a clear and resounding victory.
As soon as the ships docked, Viserys began distributing coin.
Soldiers who had brought back severed ears as proof of kills lined up to receive their rewards. When the heavy, gleaming gold coins landed in their hands, their smiles were wide enough to split their faces.
Captains who had sunk or captured enemy ships would have their claims verified and be granted noble titles.
They were full of hope for the future.
But Viserys knew the joy wouldn't last.
Soon, the soldiers would realize they had nowhere to spend their newfound wealth. And the captains would discover that House Targaryen had no fertile land to offer in reward.
If Viserys couldn't deliver on his promises, it wouldn't take long before his incentives lost their effect.
For men like Gerold and others who had risen above base desires, ideals and respect could win loyalty. But for common soldiers, if you wanted them to fight like wild beasts, you had to throw meat into their mouths.
So even though they had won the battle, Viserys couldn't breathe a sigh of relief. He still had to find a way off Dragonstone and seek a better place to build strength.
"Your Grace, shall we return and report to Queen Mother Rhaella?"
"Yes."
Leaving Arthur and Oswell with the army, Viserys returned to the castle with Jorah.
He felt a bit uneasy.
He hadn't stopped by to see Rhaella before leaving for the battle. She likely wasn't thrilled.
When the two arrived at the Stone Drum, Ser Lamy and Maester Faelor were by Rhaella's side. Her violet eyes revealed neither joy nor sorrow.
"Queen Mother, the enemy has been repelled. We killed or captured approximately 3,400 men and either sank or seized..."
Even someone unfamiliar with warfare could tell from Jorah's words that it was a true victory.
"Excellent. Well done, Ser Gerold. Please extend the royal family's gratitude to Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell. I will host a banquet in your honor tonight.
Also, distribute two thousand barrels of wine from the cellars to reward the soldiers."
"As you command, Dowager Queen. On behalf of the men, thank you for your generosity." Knowing it was time to leave, Gerold bowed and excused himself.
Lamy and the maester also tactfully withdrew.
Now only Rhaella and Viserys remained.
Her gaze held no reproach, only helplessness. The Targaryens had no adult men left—Viserys was the only one still able to stand.
Her youngest son, still so young, was already shouldering such a heavy burden. In her heart, Rhaella resented Aerys all the more.
They had only wed because of prophecy, with no love between them.
"Mother, I promise—I'll never go into battle again without telling you first." Viserys spoke softly, a bit guilty.
"My good boy, how could I ever blame you?"
Mother and son comforted each other for a while. Viserys thought this would be a good moment—on the heels of a great victory—to tell her about the coming "Great Storm."
This victory would likely keep Robert from attacking Dragonstone again for at least a year.
Rhaella might feel calmer now.
Telling her about the storm that would destroy their fleet—she might not react too harshly, "Mother, I had a dream... During your labor, a great storm struck Dragonstone and destroyed all our ships..."
By now, Rhaella had come to accept Viserys's gift as a dream-walker.
So she took his words seriously.
After thinking for a while, she said, "When I feel I'm close to giving birth, I'll issue an order in my name to have the fleet sent out to sea.
If the storm never comes, then all the better. If it does, only then will we reveal that it was your foresight."
Rhaella's plan showed not only how deeply she loved Viserys, but how far ahead she could think. She would shoulder the risk so he could gain fame.
More importantly, the fleet was the Targaryens' last hope.
Sending it out temporarily at a specific time wasn't too much to ask.
If handled properly, it could even boost morale. In a world ruled by fate, a lord who could predict disaster was an irresistible figure.
And Rhaella's idea made Viserys resolve not to let her die in childbirth.
If that mysterious force still insisted on taking Rhaella's life—then even if it was a god, he would cut off its head.
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